“What makes a pro wrestler good?” I asked, earnestly.

John and Ally looked at each other and smiled. It was one of those small, giddy looks people share when they really care about something. “Well,” they asked, “what makes a movie good?”

I paused for a minute. I said that a good movie, to me, is one where I get completely swept up. Where I forget I’m watching people act or that they’re famous. Where nothing breaks the illusion.

They nodded. “Exactly.”

Today’s piece focuses on my conversation with John and Ally, a couple who are huge fans of pro wrestling (specifically AEW). Their investment is emotional, financial, and intellectual. They spend around four hours a week watching, they travel to experience matches, and they host friends to watch at their home. I went into this conversation without knowing much about pro wrestling besides this Ultimate Warrior tshirt that LeBron James and I both wear:

By the end of our conversation, I invited myself to watch a future match. A fan in the making. Enjoy!

Wrestling is about story. The moves matter, sure. Athleticism, strength, and risk are part of it. But the best matches also focus on pacing, tension, and that emotional payoff. The most memorable moments aren’t just expected wins. They’re drawn out stories where characters evolve and emotions build. The highs feel higher because you stayed through the lows. John and Ally’s favorite story arc? Friendship, then betrayal, then reconciliation. It’s similar those who love an enemies to friends trope while reading!

There is a dedicated fan subreddit (r/SquaredCircle - aka the ring). People gathering around the storylines. There are fan theories and fanfiction. Like I wrote about last week, fandom is better shared.

When John and Ally first started dating, they lived in different cities. One of the first things John did (as a huge fan of pro wrestling) was send Ally three wrestling videos:

Each one was totally different just to show the range. She immediately said, “It’s like anime!” In both anime and wrestling, no character is a throwaway. You might meet someone early on, lose track of them, and then in stories later, they reappear with new meaning.

This kind of storytelling rewards long-term attention and invested fans. The easter egg and the details only huge fans notice feels like a nod from a franchise, a musician, a promo, or a brand.

One of my favorite stories from my conversation with John and Ally was about a match in Chicago. They described the energy when the music shifted. Ally’s face changed. She screamed, “Oh my god.” It was Minoru Suzuki, known to fans as Murder Grandpa. (I watched their video recording. It’s incredible.) Up until that point, they assumed they’d have to travel to Japan to see him. The surprise was emotional.

They told me another story about a match in Mexico City. Místico, a beloved Mexican luchador, was up against MJF, an American heel (heel means a wrestler who is villainous). At one point, MJF kicks Místico in the balls and tries to pull off his mask.

“Wait,” I asked, “is that allowed?”

They explained that it’s all part of the performance. Moves like these are usually agreed upon. But you don’t actually know what’s scripted or planned. John said, “My favorite moments are the ones that make me think it’s real.”

Wrestling is physical. But it’s also performative. It’s just as close to theater as it is to sport. Wrestlers act out emotion through movement. But then there’s the crowd.

“The fans are the third character,” John explained.

Wrestlers feed off the audience's energy. A heel might lean harder into their villain role when the crowd boos louder. A fan fave wrestler might rally because the audience is screaming their name. The fans know it’s not real, but they choose to believe anyway. They participate in the illusion because without them, what is left? 

At Ally’s first match, she found herself rooting for the heel. But she went with the crowd. She decided to lean into the story. John added, “This is the fakest thing that makes me feel.”

I’ve learned that some of the most interesting fandoms have a feedback loop. In my scribbles and diagrams of fandom, I’ve been noting “instances where fan objects and their fans converge.” When information flows between the two and they have a way to communicate (even if it’s someone booing), it feels collaborative. And that feels powerful.

As we talked, something became clear to me. Loving something in a broad, general way is beautiful. But choosing a specific version of that thing is when it starts to feel like yours. Choice is a secret ingredient in the world of fandom.

John and Ally don’t just love wrestling. They love AEW. They like its style. But if a match feels off or a storyline leans misogynistic, Ally turns it off. That choice is part of their fandom too.

There’s something meaningful about narrowing your focus. Picking a favorite character in a franchise or ranking your top three albums from a band you’ve followed for years or admitting that you didn’t like a book by your favorite author. These choices say something about who you are as a fan. 

Choosing your version of fandom gives it texture. The nuance makes it stickier, in my opinion. And if it’s sticky, you’ll probably stay a huge fan for awhile.

Interested in diving into the fandom? John suggests starting out with this video: Orange Cassidy vs PAC. He said it’s a great mix of excellent wrestling and comedy. The comments give you a peek into the fandom: