Bright lights and Bushwhackers: How colour and sound brought wrestling to life

It’s November 1989, and wrestling is my life. I get hyped up every Saturday night, along with every other every wrestling fan in New Zealand, ready for the show to begin. Tonight, however, was particularly special. Tonight was the first time that one of WWF’s special events had aired on our local screens. It was SummerSlam 1989, a three hour spectacular featuring the top stars of the WWF, competing across nine highly-anticipated matches.

What a time to be a fan. There I am, sitting spellbound in front of the TV in a darkened sitting room, gripping a bowl of snacks with my face thirty inches from the screen. Taking in every exhilarating moment, while my family try in vain to crane their necks around my head and flailing arms to get a view of the action.

My connection to professional wrestling goes a lot deeper than people think. As a child of the 1980s, I was heavily influenced by American popular culture. Much of my childhood centred around American television shows; particularly shows like the Muppets and Sesame Street which fascinated me from an early age.

I have wonderful memories of mum taking us to see the Muppets live at the old Farmers department store in town. My low vision never stopped me from enjoying the live experience, even if I wasn’t able to see everything. Just being there and hearing the iconic voices and the catchy tunes that fuelled my love of music was enough.

My interests fully turned to pro wrestling when WWF Superstars of Wrestling began airing in NZ in November 1988. WWF grabbed my attention in much the same way as the Muppets: the theatrics, the larger-than-life personalities and the stark contrast between hero and villain. The entrance music of each wrestler captivated me as a child and even now, writing about it evokes
feelings of nostalgia.

More importantly, what made wrestling enjoyable was how accessible it was for me on television.

Some of my favourite wrestlers included the Hart Foundation – Bret Hart and Jim Neidhart, Macho Man Randy Savage, Jake ‘the Snake’ Roberts, and Hulk Hogan. Wrestling also commonly showcased Pacific Islanders long before they were revered on the international stage. Seeing the likes of King Haku, Jimmy Snuka, and The Rock, impacted me as a New Zealand born Samoan. It was inspiring to see wrestlers that shared my likeness.

As someone with a vision impairment, the 20-foot ring that confined the wrestling battles was easy to grasp. Supported by the different sounds as wrestlers were struck or suplexed onto the mat, I could identify the level of pain these athletes were in. I was fully invested.

Supported by the multiple camera angles and cinematic style that followed every movement, the enthusiastic commentators described much detail of every match; from where the wrestlers were positioned, to their emotions and facial expressions. This meant I could follow along easily.

My excitement for wrestling was shared amongst friends and neighbours, and I regularly swapped stories and merchandise with friends at school. The teachers eventually became fed up with the hysteria, especially with kids having their own wrestling matches on the field. I confess that I was always one of the culprits. Although I was treated delicately by my peers, I was usually
one of the rougher instigators, leaving many others bruised and hurt.

As much as I tried to engage in sports that were more culturally relevant in New Zealand, my experience with rugby and cricket were mixed. Being the only student in primary school with a visual impairment, my tight-knit community were generous in aiding my participation – they were adapting as much as I. When my class played an afternoon of softball or cricket, a classmate would volunteer to bat on my behalf while I ran the field. At lunch, I played the occasional game of touch rugby, with my peers being easy on me. Navigating these sports on TV however was incredibly challenging.

In contrast to watching professional wrestling, all I could see on TV was a huge green field, with small unrecognisable figures wearing numbers on their backs. To further complicate my viewing, they were spread across the area while throwing an invisible ball. The commentary speed and terminologies were also fast-paced, making rugby difficult to follow. This meant I felt not just disconnected from the game, but also a large part of NZ’s sporting culture. As a result, my passion for wrestling remained even as my peers grew out of it.

In 1990, I went to my first wrestling event held at Mt Smart Stadium. Our neighbour and his dad invited my brother and I to see the Bushwhackers Homecoming show. The Bushwhackers were a tag team duo from NZ that had made it big in the WWF and had returned to tour the country.

We had fantastic seats in the bottom end of the stands that sat above the wrestlers’ entrance, positioned directly across from the ring. My friend’s dad, who was thoughtful of my vision, brought along a pair of binoculars so that I could fully immerse myself in the show. And what a show it was. That night, Mt Smart Stadium was lit up in lights, which made it much easier to immerse myself in the atmosphere than it would have been in the harsh sunlight of the day. When the Bushwhackers emerged from beneath the stands, the crowd erupted with a fever I’d never experienced before. I was hooked.

While my wrestling viewing transitioned with ease from live events to television, that was not the case for rugby or league. I tried attending various rugby games, and my challenges viewing it on television weren’t made any easier in the real world. Attending a Warriors game in 2017 at Mt Smart Stadium as part of my university research study, the same venue where I attended the Bushwhackers show 27 years earlier, I still felt detached. I struggled to follow the league game even with binoculars.

As an adult with a clearer understanding of my disability, and knowing the barriers faced by others like me, I viewed the grounds at Mt Smart with a more critical eye. The steps leading down the stands near where I sat as a child were unsafe. Faded yellow lines at the edge of the steps without tactiles made me contemplate whether I should descend the stairs, knowing the risk that I may reach the bottom quicker if I accidentally tumbled all the way down. The railings in the middle were of little help, as they were the same colour as the stairs, rendering them practically invisible.

These days, advancements in camera work and TV technology has changed my experience for the better. Along with the ball being a brighter colour, better lighting and multiple sophisticated camera angles makes viewing much easier. Growing awareness of accessibility may have played a hand in some of these changes, and I am thankful to the many groups who continue to advocate for accessibility. I look forward to the future with hope.