This essay is the third of three about the issue of determining quality wrestling performances. It is my belief that the contemporary way wrestling journalists grade wrestling matches is broken, antiquated, and never really worked in the first place.
The first article, The Theory of Quality Wrestling, discussed how I believe a wrestling match should be judged in theory. The second article, The ratings system is broken, details why I believe just that.
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So now that I’ve decided to propose a new system, what challenges does that entail? Well, for one, stars are simple. People think they understand stars, even if they really don’t, as they can easily mean one thing to the reviewer and another to the reader. If I’m going to change the way we do things, I have to improve the system in such a massive and obvious way that it would become ludicrous not to move to the new approach.
Thankfully, the star-rating system is so broken that it shouldn’t be too hard.
To gain any sort of appeal, even from the other boys here at Fair to Flair, I’ve got to do the following things:
1) The system has to work for matches and “scenes” whether those scenes be interviews, attack angles, plot twists, etc. That gives my system an immediate edge, since nobody ever thinks to give a rating to anything but matches.
2) Subsequently, the rating system must also work on entire shows, months, and eras. You should be able to rate an era as well as a thirty-second ad.
3) The system has to be catchy, simple, easy to remember, and immediately understandable. If it involves too many caveats, drill-downs, and sub-parts, it will find its place alongside the Dvorak keyboard of ingenious uselessness.
4) The system has to translate across author-reader lines with as little lost as possible. If possible, this translation should also scale countries, eras, and languages.
5) It has to scale. Too many five-star reviews eventually dilute the idea of a five-star rating. The new system can’t have that problem.
6) The system has to take the weird world of wrestling into account. It should also take into account the importance history has to wrestling fans (as I’ve been learning, historical prominence means just about everything to many. Seems to be the only reason people read Meltzer).
So what do I have that answers all of these questions? It’s simple (by definition, it has to be). I present to all of you: the CSI system.
The CSI rating system
Every match, scene, show, era, etc, can be responsibly summarized in one of three ways: either it is vitally important to the history of the art and should be canonized, or it aids in the importance of something else, or it is immaterial or useless to the critical viewer.
1) Canon, or (C)
This replaces things such as “five-star classics” and “unforgettable moments” and provides a clean grade for anything we want to wholeheartedly recommend. What we grade as canon is considered important viewing for any respectable wrestling fan.
The beauty of this is that while traits such as workrate, selling, highspots, etc., are all acceptable reasons to make something canonical, many other factors come into play. Perhaps the most glaring example I’ve ever seen of the ratings system failing is Scott Keith’s rating of Hulk Hogan v. The Rock at Wrestlemania 18. He gave the match two stars. It’s one thing to disagree with him on his opinion, but I actually disagree with him on the process by which he came to that decision (by comparing it to the previous string of technically amazing Angle and Austin matches, as well as Hogan and Warrior from twelve years previous. The match is canonical. It’s recommended that you see that one. I can tell you why (and of course explanation is encouraged in this system). A canonical rating is certainly taken more seriously by an impressive recommendation. But unlike Keith’s two-star rating, simply stating something as canonical isn’t confusing in and of itself. It infers recommendation, whereas his rating infers that you keep far away from the thing. It infers that the match or scene is worth preserving.
Beautifully, it also infers that what you consider canonical is as valuable as someone else doing the same. It stays away from top-10ing in a sense. An interview segment can be just as important to history as a Wrestlemania main event, and instead of the argument being about star amounts (often cut into quarters), it can be (theoretically) based on arguments. This is important: there are no gradients. Nothing is more or less canonical. It simply goes into the book of things you believe are important to present to others. That’s the best a match, scene, or whatever, can hope to achieve.
2) Satellite, or (S)
As tempted as I was to simplify the system down to just two types of ratings (a woo/boo, if you will) I feel a third is necessary to flesh it out properly. A satellite rating is for matches or scenes that a important to a larger cause, but in and of themselves are not terribly interesting. They are footnotes, in a sense: useful for extra context, important to highlight, but marginalia. An argument in a larger essay, if you will.
Those who play loose with this system may notice that there’s a bit of overlap between satellite and canon, especially in regard to scenes. A really great scene may be one that leads to something bigger at the same time. Here’s the distinction: satellite scenes are not great on their own. In fact, they may not be even “good,” but they are necessary to explain why an ingredient in a canonical scene or match plays out as it does.
For this reason, a satellite rating has to come with some explanation, if only a reference to the canonical example it supports. Because of this, I expect this to be the least-used of the three, as it can only really be supported by a) contextual thought, and b) some sense of hindsight.
C) Immaterial, or (I)
Finally, the easiest of the three, the one that requires the least amount of thought. Is a match bad, but not so bad we need not remark on it? Is an interview boring? Is a main event a disappointment in terms of plot progression and match quality? How about the entire story between Triple H and Kevin Nash in 2003? How about the entire year of 2005? The entire existence of WWA? These things are immaterial and can easily be marked as such. An (I) attached to a review of a match marks it as missable by the general and passionate audience (if you think it’s good for one or the other, mark it as C or S and make your case!)
An immaterial rating denotes unimportance, not necessarily poor quality. Sometimes, poor wrestling is very interesting wrestling, something the star rating system utterly fails at communicating. The most important tweak I’ve made is in the lame review: it is not failure that denotes the worst mark, but lack of a memorable performance.
This system is superior for all the reasons I explained above, but I’ll go over them again in summation.
1) Whereas before only matches could be rated, scenes of any nature can now receive one.
2) Every part of wrestling history, from television to PPV to years, eras, and companies, can be rated.
3) I believe CSI is a catchy enough name, and entire shows can be distilled into simple sentences of description with a rating at the end of each segment, making it much simpler for beginning reviewers to utilize. As well, the review system awards and recommends longer arguments, rewarding experienced writers.
4) Hardcore wrestling fans understand “Canonical” as well as new and curious viewers.
5) Having too many matches and scenes listed as “Canonical” does not dilute the meaning as it would a five-star review. If anything, it promotes discussion, parsing, revision, and closer reading. In my mind, all good things.
6) Matches, scenes, etc., deemed awful and ridiculous under the five-star rating system (or simply ignored entirely) can now be included in wrestling history as canonical things, not just “great” things.
What do I expect to happen? Nothing, at first. Systems don’t change overnight. The five-star system has been in place for a long, long time, and wrestling fans have never been particularly happy about any change. But I do believe thoroughly in the superior nature of this system, even if it is untested and very, very beta. I’m sure it will change over the years and grow into its own thing. But if all I ever did was suggest something better, I’m happy with that, too.
K Sawyer Paul is an author and publisher living in Toronto. He tweets and tumbls. In the wrestling world he is known for This is Sports Entertainment and Aggressive Art.
Edited by Jason Mann.
