By Colin McGuire, ProWrestling.net Staffer
Editor’s Note: The following blog was written on November 11, 2024 and was somehow lost until now.
In my limited experience covering small-promotion live wrestling shows for this website, I’ve observed a few things, and one of them sticks out above all the others: None of it is glamorous. You think everyone arrives in fancy suits and beautiful dresses, chills out backstage in temperature-controlled rooms, and sips on champagne after their matches? Nope. As Matt Cardona has so often pointed out during his current indie run, sometimes it’s a struggle to even find a case of water in the backstage area of these things.
One minute, you’re Enzo Amore, reciting your introductory spiel to thousands of people – who love to shout it right back to you – each night in a WWE ring. The next, you’re Real1, slowly meandering the lobby of the 2300 Arena, double and triple-checking your merch area hours before doors open for a marathon MLW TV taping. Ba-da bing, ba-da boom, they do it for the love of the game and not the size of the room.
Really, though. Working smaller, independent promotions is a grind – and I only say that as a faraway observer who’s been lucky enough to get close to it a few times. Each time I do, I’m reminded that the distance between being an indie wrestler and an unsigned rock and roll band isn’t all that far. I might not know what it’s like to take a light tube to the forehead, but I have plenty of experience driving hundreds of miles on a Sunday night after a long weekend of shows, hoping to get home in time to shower and get to my real job on time. It’s not fun.
As such, you can count me among those who are optimistic about WWE’s recently announced ID program. For those who missed it, the company unveiled the initiative last month, describing it as “a first-of-its-kind developmental program designed to provide up-and-coming independent wrestlers a pathway to a potential career in WWE.” What that means exactly, I’m still a little blurry on. It’s not a contract, but it’s kind of a contract? It’s a declaration of acknowledgement, but it doesn’t give anyone enough attention to actually … you know … give someone a job?
The mechanics of it are a work in progress, yes, but I appreciate the concept. Being an independent artist on any level, one of the biggest – if not the biggest – reward you seek is attention. The more people know you, the more money you make. More people are aware of your work. More people seek you out. More people buy your merch. More people support you in times you might need a little support. It’s an easy equation, but an essential one nonetheless. If you’re out there, grinding out indie shows in front of 30 people every weekend, hoping the promoter provided talent bottles of water, the last thing you hope to be doing five years from now is grinding out indie shows in front of 30 people every weekend, hoping the promoter provided talent bottles of water.
It’s a job, a dream, a hope and a gamble. Any tool that can help you secure stability in this equation is a welcome tool. That’s why I’m of the belief that those who instantly criticized the idea did so in bad faith. They aren’t happy that more independent wrestlers now have another tool in their toolbox when it comes to building the house of their dreams because … it’s WWE-related? WWE is evil? WWE gobbled up European talent once upon a time and the UK indie scene has never been the same? What? Do you think all those UK wrestlers went to work for WWE against their will? Come on, now.
I understand the impulse to rage against the machine – and I understand it even more when you consider all the terrible real life stuff WWE/WWF has been associated with through the decades – but this is not one of those instances that should incite outrage from social media pundits and/or wrestling influencers, especially if said pundits and influencers have never known what it’s like to drive 800 miles in a weekend for 50 bucks and a bunch of thumbtack scars on their backs. Be skeptical of The Man as much and as often as you want; this isn’t about that. Rather, this is about giving independent wrestlers a light at the end of the tunnel.
Does that mean everyone’s careers will now work out exactly the way they hope? Does this mean that should some indie wrestlers get their shot at the Big Time, promises will always be fulfilled and dreams will be accomplished? Of course not. Life doesn’t work like that. And, yes, who knows – maybe some of these people have a few years in the WWE system and maybe they get cut and maybe that’s heartbreaking and maybe that feels unfair. But even then, wouldn’t you rather have the ability to know first-hand what it was like to achieve that goal rather than always wonder what could have been?
I can say with 100 percent certainty that if, in my failed, silly musical life, I was ever afforded an opportunity to be associated with a major label, I would have taken it without hesitation based mostly on the resources they offer. Even today, when I interview independent musicians, I almost always sneak in questions about what they’d do if a label came knocking. The answers are always similar: “Yeah, I’d like to have some major label support, even if it’s just to help out with all the work you have to do to make a living out of this.” It takes a village to break through in these worlds.
Sure, there are also artists who swear they never want to lose their attachment to the DIY ethic, and because of that, they throw middle fingers at any corporate proposition that comes their way. That’s fine, too, of course – and it also represents the option afforded to WWE ID’d prospects that nobody seems to consider: These people can turn it down, you know. If WWE went to Jack Cartwheel and said, “Hey, we want you to be part of this,” and Jack Cartwheel said, “Nah, I’d rather make my GCW towns and get squashed on AEW TV every three or four weeks,” he has the right to do just that. Nobody is forcing anyone to do anything. We all have choices to make and those choices are ours to own when the time comes.
And so, as a whole, I think this program is a net positive for anyone who wants to make a career out of professional wrestling. Or, if I’m more concerned with hedging my bets, I’d say that the intention of the program is a net positive for anyone who wants to make a career out of professional wrestling. With details on the mechanics of this being scant, it’s hard to really have a feel for how it’s all going to work. But any mechanism that provides wrestlers with the hope that they could achieve something bigger than what they currently have is something in which I believe.
Because honestly: Despite the romance, the grit and the glory that surrounds it, that indie wrestling lifestyle doesn’t look like it’s going to glam itself up anytime soon. Then. Now. And probably forever.
Well of COURSE McGuire thinks something WWE is a good thing.