With the final episode of ECW looming this Tuesday it made me stop and think, how did we get to this point?
Of course we can debate the relative flaws and merits of this soon to be deceased "brand," but it may be better to use ECW as the case study for how in 10 years, wrestling has done from swilling beer, crimson masks, and chants of "holy shit" at high spots to the mollified TV PG product that we consume weekly with as much joy as a heroin addict gets from a methadone shot.
We'd really rather have heroin, but the methadone is all we can get.
First, let's start with a brief account of WWE history and how we got to this whole John Cena on bedsheets and Hornswoggle as part of DeGeriatric X (those wacky 40 somethings...
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