So: It's been a while since I watched professional wrestling on a regular basis. I like to think that the game passed me by—once we were no longer supposed to believe that Hulk Hogan really fought for America, that the Undertaker was really some kind of corpse reanimated by Paul Bearer, that Mr. Perfect was really the best bowler, golfer, and basketball player on planet earth, the thrill was gone. I've spent enough time in a postmodern graduate program to have to deal with people winking at kayfabe on my days off. But WrestleMania 28 went down Sunday, and I respect the tradition. I just don't know who Sheamus is, and what he's doing—having defeated someone named Daniel Bryan—with the World Heavyweight Championship.
At the same time, pro wrestling careers are still impressively long—Kane and the Undertaker both made appearances, as did the Rock, who beat John Cena in the main event. The Big Show was around, too, but once he was deemed unable to survive a monster-truck-crash on top of an arena I kind of lost interest.
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