Survivor Series Memories

My pro wrestling fanhood began when I was a kid. Before there was a WWE Network or any other streaming service, and back when pay-per-view super shows were a four-times-a-year event. My family never paid for pay-per-view, but in those days you could turn to the pay-per-view station and get a scrambled signal and audio from the broadcast.

So, four times a year, there I’d be, hunkered close to the television, often as not playing with my wrestling action figures while I listened to the show. My mom took to draping a blanket over the TV while I did this, certain the scrambled signal I’d invariably try to watch through would hurt my eyes. I did this for WrestleManias and for The Royal Rumble. I did this each August for SummerSlam.

And each November, I did this for Survivor Series.

Despite being the second oldest traditional super show for WWE, Survivor Series was, in many ways, the most minor of the big four original PPVs. WrestleMania was the biggest show of the year, and SummerSlam capped a big summer of angles and thus served as sort of a secondary ‘Mania. The Rumble had the infectious gimmick of its signature match with thirty men entering one big brawl at two-minute intervals. But Survivor Series? The cornerstone of the show was teams of four or five guys going head to head in elimination tag team matches—matches in which not just one pin or submission ended the contest, but rather each individual member of a team needed to be defeated until one full team was out. It’s a fun enough gimmick, particularly for the hardcore fan who recognizes how distinctive the circumstances are relative to a traditional wrestling match, but not as distinctive or epic as the circumstances surrounding the other PPVs. In particular, in contrast to the other big shows, Survivor Series traditionally didn’t include title matches or one-on-one matches to resolve rivalries, and thus could easily feel like a placeholder on the way to bigger and better things.

And yet for all of its limitations, when I look back on my childhood as a wrestling fan, Survivor Series stands out as one of my favorites annual occurrences. Purportedly, the event was originally launched for two main purposes:

1) To milk the most profit possible from the huge Hulk Hogan vs. Andre the Giant rivalry before Andre’s health fell off completely (in this case, having them captain opposing teams staved off boredom with their matches which weren’t actually that good, and protected Andre, because with three teammates, he only needed to work a few minutes of the match).
2) For the purpose of going head-to-head with the National Wrestling Alliance’s big Starrcade show--in a particularly competitive move, forcing cable providers to choose which PPV to carry, with the qualifier that anyone who picked against the WWF would lose the opportunity to air WrestleMania and cash-in on that big payday in the spring.

It’s particularly ironic, then, that an event so purely driven by greed and a sense of cut-throat business is one that I associate with family and togetherness. For in my childhood, Survivor Series started out airing on Thanksgiving night, then on Thanksgiving eve, to the extent that my memories of the show are inextricable from memories of the Thanksgiving holiday itself. I remember spending the afternoon playing at my grandmother’s, and I remember coming home for the one time a year our grandmother visited our house--braving the big set of stairs necessary to get to our kitchen. I remember sharing turkey liver with my father, and remember the spread of food on our table--not so awe-inspiring now that I’ve seen much bigger Thanksgiving feasts, but nonetheless plenty of food and one of the few times in a given year we’d eat family style and be welcome to second helpings. And after dinner was done, as my mother or father drove my grandmother home, I remember Survivor Series, huddled under a blanket, listening as the voices of Gorilla Monsoon and Jesse Ventura transported me to an arena that had might as well have been on another planet. I remember all of this and a sense of these wrestlers coming together in unlikely combinations--forming their teams as if they were coming together as a family, with all of its trepidations and baggage--to be together for one night.

I guess it’s these memories that still get me excited for Survivor Series each year. Nowadays, WWE leans far less upon on the elimination tag team structure—usually throwing in one or two of those matches for tradition’s sake, but otherwise structuring the show more like any old PPV with regular one-on-one and tag team matches, too. These shows aren’t always great, and often as not in my adult life haven’t objectively offered much to be excited about in the build up to the shows. Still, I think back to those younger days and remember the wonder, and take a moment to be thankful for adulthood and the modern conveniences of being able to pay for a relatively cheap streaming service and watching the show live--even re-watching the parts that I want to on a whim, whenever I have wireless.

Survivor Series isn’t booked mid-week any more but rather, most years, the Sunday before Thanksgiving. There’s a way in which that timing feeds my nostalgia, though, for I can enjoy the show in the comfort of my own home and, in its aftermath, be ready to travel near or far to celebrate a holiday. For in November, there are these certain, universal pieces of my life that beckon to me across time and space--family, friends, turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie--

and Survivor Series.