Listen up!!

Class is in session, and it's lecture time. It'll be a two-part rant, both in defense of this great fake sport.

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Part One: Faking It Is Fantastic
I'm not part of the "Red Sox Nation," and I never will be. But I truly felt sorry for their fans when the Sox were getting drilled by the Yankees early on in the American League Championship Series. We saw image after image of fans praying for a hit. Think of that, people praying to a Higher Power for a lousy hit in a baseball game. That, class, is the power of real sports. That is the beauty of real sports -- that fans can be so connected to their team that they're transfixed into a supernatural trance in order to make something positive happen. When the team wins, it's the greatest feeling on earth. When the team loses, it's like you've been punched in the gut.

Mrs. Professor always tells the story of how I tried to break up with her during the 1987 World Series when the Minnesota Twins were trying to beat the St. Louis Cardinals. I was on top of the world when the Twins went up 2-0, but when the Cards took the middle three games, I was a basket case. Couldn't think, couldn't function and all that. I doubt I tried to break up with the missus, but she seems to think so. Everything was fine, by the way, when Kirby Puckett, Kent Hrbek and company won it all when the team returned to the Metrodome.

So what does this have to do with wrestling? Simply this: When your team chokes and your dobber is down, thank the good Lord fake sports exist. For better or worse, gonzo pro wrestling TV shows are a temporary tonic for the real sports blues.

Trust me, I'm also a Minnesota Vikings fan. I know pain and misery and heartbreak. In fact, I'll go out on a limb and say the Vikings are the most cursed team in pro sports history. Four Super Bowl losses, countless trips to the playoffs with no payoffs, a 15-1 season (1998) in which they choked like dogs in the NFC title game. Last year, a 6-0 start and they still missed the postseason. Cursed, cursed, cursed.

How did I cope? A steady diet of Verne Gagne's AWA in the beginning, with the greatest villains of all time -- Nick Bockwinkle and Ray Stevens. Later in life, it was the WWF and NWA, featuring the legendary Hulk Hogan and Ric Flair. And now, the WWE with the greatest collection of actor/tumblers ever assembled.

Wrestling -- as corny and goofy and fake as it is -- has survived and thrived this long for a reason. It's a soap opera for boys involving no emotional attachment, with instant payoffs. Sure, some of the shows are terribly written and terribly acted, but there's nothing better than a Ric Flair rant or a Chris Benoit match to get your mind off the local millionaires who don't win as often as you'd like.

It's that simple, kids. Did your team lose? No problem, an episode of RAW is on the horizon.

Lecture, part one, is over.

Part Two: I'm Not A Dirtbag
I am frankly sick to death of defending pro wrestling as a fun thing to watch or follow. But to keep my sanity, I have no problem using this column as a bully pulpit to knock the whine and cheese crowd off their precious pedestals.

My entire life, those who don't like wrestling have always said stuff like "it's low-rent" or it's "sexist" or "I can't believe people watch that stuff."

Class, they're words to make my blood boil. Here's the deal: Life is short, wrestling is just entertainment and I should be able to enjoy it without feeling like a dirtbag.

Quick quiz: What's the hottest, most talked about TV show in the country right now? Answer: that ABC jug-gernaut, "Desperate Housewives." The scripts on that show are good, kids, but let's not kid ourselves -- DH is all about sex. If it wasn't, it wouldn't be the hottest show on TV. How is that different from a typical episode of WWE programming? It's not. One person's trashy TV show is another person's treasure. Or something like that.

Ever watch "Survivor?" Ever watch "Big Brother?" Ever watch an afternoon soap opera in the past 50 years? Sex is the vehicle to get you hooked on these "socially acceptable" shows. So the "I can't believe people watch that stuff" argument just doesn't fly. It never will, whine and cheesers. You're beaten.

And don't give me that junk about wrestling being violence "aimed at kids." Any responsible parent monitors TV watching. If you think that's what wrestling is, but you're too busy -- or too important -- or too cultured to watch your kids, then you screwed up. You should not be parents.

End of lecture, part two.

If you agree or disagree, send me a note right here. Perhaps I'll print a few in a future column. But for now, that's it -- get out of here.

Class dismissed!

(Professor Wrestling is a masked employee of Internet Broadcasting Systems. His beloved Minnesota Twins knocked out of the playoffs, he's now rooting for the Boston Red Sox to win the World Series. Deal with it.)