Wrestling is theater on steroids (literally and figuratively).
When people say professional wrestling is fake, I fight back the urge to remind than that being "scripted" does not equate to being fake. In the same way people watch soap operas and reality television, my family and I watch wresting. It's a release. It's engaging. It is a riot. And now, more than ever, it is entertaining.
I'm not referring to any innovative storylines or even one-of-a-kind characters. The latest and greatest entertainment aspect of watching wrestling comes from my daughter. The judgments and criticisms of my parenting may come flying as I admit that my daughter occasionally joins in on portions of our wrestling consumption. Bring it.
She has her favorites. She recognizes the music. She mimics the entrance gestures. Do we try and limit her exposure to violence? Of course. Are certain elements of the shows not necessarily toddler-friendly? Sure. Will we ever bring her to a show? You bet.
My wife and I both love it. The adrenaline. The excitement. The silliness. We grew up with it as an integral part of our own childhoods and I can't imagine wrestling not being a part of my family's future.