The Day I Stopped Watching WWE: A Childhood Betrayal

By Mpundu Valerie

I was 10. Sunday night, 2006. ZTV was actually showing WWE live for once, no church program cutting it.

It was John Cena vs Edge, TLC match at Unforgiven. Ladders everywhere. My whole hood was at our house because we had the only TV with a clear picture. No one breathing. Edge climbs the ladder. He's about to grab the belt. My uncle shouts, "GEVHA!"

Then Cena does it. FU from the top of the ladder through two tables! BOOM! The crowd in our living room went CRAZY. We were jumping on the floor, grandma shouting "Vamuuraya!"

Edge is not moving. Like, dead. The ref counts 1... 2... 3... Cena wins. I went to school the next day as John Cena. Wristband made from socks. "You can't see me," to my teacher. She beat me.

I came back home ready for the replay. My older brother was watching the news. He laughed and said, "Ah, you still watch this fake acting? These guys are friends, they eat lunch together after. That blood is paint."

I said, "You're lying." He pulled up YouTube the first time I saw behind-the-scenes footage. Edge and Cena laughing backstage. Hugging. My heart broke!!!! ntintinti

I watched it again, and all I could see was acting. The way they punch but don't touch. The way they scream too loud. I just stood up, switched it off, and said, "I'm done."

It was that time I realised Father Christmas was my uncle. Same pain. Same betrayal. One day you think magic is real, next day you see Baba vaTindo in your mother's red dress, fake beard falling off, drunk, trying to put your own school shoes you lost last term inside a box and calling it a gift from the North Pole.

The Day I Stopped Watching Wrestling