...oh, how this viewer misses the good ol' days of professional wrestling...those gritty, sweaty renaissance days of yore...say, about the late '50's, to the mid-to-late '70's, when the action spoke louder than the words...even louder than the often aggressively confident, sometimes boisterously arrogant fighters...back in the days when it was much more about the fight, than about outrageously colorful and self-heralding extrovert, the 'product'...or rather, the fighter, presented himself. OK, admittedly, even the awesome and spectacular fights back in the day, were carefully choreographed...indeed, the fighters truly knew how to put on a show...it was hardly as 'fake', as some naysayers might suggest. And some righteous body slams...the sound, unlike that of raw meat being pummeled and slapped onto the taut canvas...and heck, even some respectable bloodshed, definitely made things much more grueling, and well, much more 'realistic'. In the advent of the almost ridiculous, clown-like personalities, wrought from the '80's, as well as the introduction of the respectable Ultimate Fighting Championship, in the '90's, the professional wrestling venue's spectacle seems to have become more about the flash, than the fight...
...that balance between the sport and the show...looking at professional wrestling in a much more artistic meld, rather than the low-brow and commercial stigma, which it has since been pigeon-holed into...fighters, who are less 'showboat', and more 'hungry'...yes, that's also what fight promoter Steve Scarborough (...aka Steve Platinum, in labeling his proposed wrestling championship brand, the Platinum Champion Wrestling) remembers, back in that exciting time. And if he has anything to say about it, he would see that...to quote a medieval term...'fair time' come to pass, once again. His vision...his dream...his journey is the subject of intrigue, turmoil and measurable triumph, in the documentive study herein, called "The Booker"...