C and D Counties
Co-host of Talking Tourneys and Violent People Radio, all around violent person.
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The time has come to see Matewan in perspective, the way we do Lexington and Gettysburg…not just as an isolated incident of the tragic spilling of blood, but as a symbolic moment in a larger, broader and continuing historical struggle…in the words of Mingo county miner J.B. Wiggins, the ‘struggle for freedom and liberty.’
David A. Corbin
The Matewan Massacre stands as a pivotal episode within the West Virginia Coal Wars, a series of disputes and battles in the early 20th century between coal miners and the hired guns and scabs of mining companies. Evictions tore families from their homes, men and women endured brutal beatings, millions of rounds echoed through the Blue Ridge Mountains, and a great deal of lives were tragically lost.
Coal and blood—this is the legacy of Appalachian children. Soon after the supposed “end” of the West Virginia Coal Wars, similar issues arose in Kentucky. The ensuing hostilities left Harlan, Kentucky, with the moniker, Bloody Harlan. Coal built this region, and in return, the industry chewed up the people and spit them out. This truth resonates in the region to this day, leaving scars that will never fade.
This is the context and history Appalachians carried when witnessing the working-class Stone Cold Steve Austin go to war against the corrupt CEO Vince McMahon. Appalachians have waged a lifelong battle against the “Corporation.” This is not the bureaucratic minutia of a white-collar boss breathing down your neck, wanting cover sheets for the TPS reports. This is a battle of right vs. wrong, a war for the very soul of a region. The cathartic release of good triumphing over evil in pro wrestling provides an escape that many Appalachians can’t find in the real world. It is my firm belief that Appalachia has a unique bond with pro wrestling, unlike any other region in the world.
To live in Appalachia is to grapple with a lack of access, it’s a lack of access to healthcare, education, jobs, or, more importantly in this context, entertainment. Harlan, Kentucky is not getting a Taylor Swift concert. Many of my friends in Pocahontas County, West Virginia are over an hour away from a movie theater. Mainstream acts, for the most part, do not tour here. Wrestling though, wrestling has consistently provided a source of entertainment, escape, and camaraderie for the people of Appalachia.
There were plenty of jokes and scoffs at AEW staging one of their few “House Rules” events in Corbin, KY. A quick search on Twitter shows almost universal confusion and derision at the selection. It didn’t surprise me at all. WWE and TNA have both run multiple house shows there. Corbin has a rich history of wrestling dating back at least to John Cazana and then later Ron Fuller running Southeastern Championship Wrestling shows at the Corbin Speedway with the likes of Ronnie Garvin, Boris Malenko, and the Mongolian Stomper.
The jokes and scoffs are familiar to the ‘hillbillies’ and ‘rednecks’ I grew up with, a common thread between Appalachia and professional wrestling, proud but ashamed. Being the punchline of a nation is something Appalachia and professional wrestling have in common. I am proud of where I come from. I love this place and its people. I get to live with some of the kindest people on this planet and take in some of the most breathtaking landscapes you can imagine on a daily basis. I’m also ashamed. I’m ashamed of the drug epidemic. I’m ashamed of the pervasive poverty and the collective blind eye we turn towards it.
Does that sound familiar to you? Ask a wrestling fan about their favorite match. I could talk your ear off about Wotan vs. Demus or Bryan Danielson vs. Rush (in fact, listen to the FKAABTs and I’ll do just that.) There’s few things I enjoy more in this world than pro wrestling done well. Now ask me to explain whatever NXT is supposed to be or ask me to review a Bussy match and I’ll be embarrassed beyond belief. If you ask me to reconcile spending money and enjoying an industry that profits predators like Vince McMahon and Kevin Dunn, I’ll shrink.
There’s a somewhat cheesy quote Jeff Jarrett throws around a lot: “For the people who believe, you don’t have to explain, and for the people who don’t believe, no explanation is good enough.” While cheesy and a little clunky, it fits. It works for wrestling and Appalachia. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been asked, “Why did you move back there?” By and large, the people here are tired of defending themselves from stereotypes and jokes. The only question I’m sure I’ve been asked more than that is, “You know it’s fake, right?” I don’t feel the need to explain my love of home anymore than I feel the need to explain my obsession with pro wrestling.
I love where I’m from because I know what it can be at its best. I love wrestling because it can be so much more than it usually is.
Wrestling is Appalachia.
Wrestling was popular here during the zenith of the coal years and as the region faced economic hardships and limited recreational options, wrestling stayed true as a form of affordable entertainment that resonated with the population.
WWE has over 300 events a year, with 170 televised…we’re putting them on in C and D counties, so we’re really stretching the brand and amassing a greater array of eyeballs for all demos, it’s good for our long-term growth. For a margin perspective, they are dilutive. There are probably opportunities, as we go through our efficiencies and synergies, to cut back those non-televised events, which will, of course, push our margin up.
Mark Shapiro, TKO President
I can not imagine any county in Appalachia not being a C or D county in the eyes of Mark Shapiro. WWE’s focus on maximizing profit by dismissing smaller towns seems callous at best. The connection between Appalachia and wrestling goes beyond dollars and cents. Cutting back on events in this area isn’t just about missed entertainment; it’s about severing a lifeline of shared narratives and emotional catharsis that goes back generations. I’m not claiming to understand business better than Mark Shapiro, but I understand wrestling, and I understand this region better than him. It would be detrimental to both to cut out wrestling in this area.
I know the joy I’ve seen on the faces of children who go to the wrestling events here. For many this is a birthday or Christmas present, a special occasion. Seth Rollins vs. Drew McIntyre may not be exciting for the fans of this website, but I promise it is for the people in these smaller arenas. Mother and fathers, brothers and sisters, and yes mean old grannies. I loved going to Ring of Honor shows in its glory years, I traveled all over for Chikara shows, I was an AIW regular for years. The crowds at those shows were 95% dudes from 15-45. No crowds compare to the family crowds you get in this region.
Running house shows in “C and D counties” is not without benefit to WWE. When you look at AEWs roster and the number of live shows they run, it seems apparent that either the roster is too big or that some of the wrestlers are not wrestling enough. Younger talent like a Hook or an Anna Jay would almost certainly be in a better place in their career with more reps. The extra events are clearly an advantage they have over AEW.
I am not arguing for wrestlers to be on the road 365 days a year, 400 if you’re Hogan flying back and forth from Japan. I fear the day that WWE leaves Appalachia and the fly-over states behind. I dread a future where WWE tours the same 12 cities all year round. The territories are not coming back. 2024 wrestling is what it is. I hope for fans’, wrestlers’, and wrestling’s sake that WWE keeps running shows all over the country.
The Appalachian story is far from over. The battles for healthcare, education, and economic justice continue. As long as those battles rage, wrestling will remain a vital part of the culture. An important thread in the tapestry of our lives, a reminder that the smallest crowds can roar with the defiance of the hero overcoming the insurmountable odds. And that hope, like a wrestler kicking out at 2.9, can never be truly pinned down.
