The Dynamics of the American Entertainment Industry

Narrative Op-Ed By: Joaquin D. Valle, Writer | BCS Chronicle

What You Need To Know:

• The United States is very popular for its entertainment industry as it captures the world's attention with huge stars and grand events.

• This narrative op-ed explores one writer’s journey covering “Midget Mayhem” at Shiner Park in College Station, prompting him to rethink the nature of the American entertainment industry.

It was early December, and College Station had fallen asleep after the conclusion of the regular season of college football. On the night of “Midget Mayhem” though, the city felt restless. I too, felt the unease of this night as I opened my eyes to the long line of excited and half-intoxicated college students waiting outside of Shiner Park in College Station, Texas. 

While I waited for the line to snake along, groups of students were jumping in line and chatting with each other about how their week had went. Talk of upcoming exams and unfinished assignments were spliced with chatter about the upcoming weekend’s mixers and plans for hanging out with friends before winter break.

I stood by myself, glancing at my phone. To my left, another student, a young man who appeared around my age was doing the same. I wanted to start a conversation with him, but I felt nervous and decided to act busy. Luckily, I had established a little routine for situations like this: swipe the home-screen a few times, select an app at random - preferably Messages or TikTok - and scroll up and down at varying intervals while squinting every few moments as though something in particular had caught my eye.

Social anxiety was always my biggest downfall; fortunately, journalism had become a veritable escape years ago. Unfortunately, today, even my journalistic curiosity could not protect me from the biggest foe threatening to knock me out cold as if it were Mike Tyson in his pre-Jake Paul prime. Still, I was determined to make my way inside and join the throng of ensuing chaos. “Midget Mayhem” Wrestling had piqued the town’s interest, satiating that end of semester rut when all those on campus craved a cathartic respite from monotonous nights of studying and dreadful finals.

At last, the line began to ease along and students began filing into the western-themed behemoth of a bar that is Shiner Park. Groups of overall-clad guys crammed in oversized pick-up trucks sped by at full speed, whooping with excitement for tonight’s main event. The horde of freshman girls in front of me ribbed one another in the sides, eyeing some of the boys until someone up front yelled impatiently, “Keep it moving!” causing their giggles to fade into the din.

As I reached the front of the line, I showed my $25 ticket that I had definitely not purchased myself (that kind of money could buy me at least two nights’ worth of Whataburger) to a fratty-looking bouncer, and was directed to the ring side. Directed was a polite way of putting it. Actually, I had been pushed to and fro like I was being careened in a pinball machine, until somehow, I hit the jackpot and landed right by the ropes separating the spectators from the fighters. Kendrick Lamar’s 2024 hit “Not Like Us” was blasting at top volume and random college kids were talking obnoxiously loud about the about the first fight that was about to transpire. In the distance, I could make out a bar and decided to make my way over, wondering if the bartenders had an inside scoop on the night’s odds.

I waited by the bar with a $20 bill I had scrounged out of my stash of cash from my apartment, and was caught off guard when another customer began talking to me. He looked a little older than a student, maybe in his mid-twenties judging by the scruff of his beard and his attire.  

“Are you excited?" he said drunkenly. He’d clearly gotten in early.

As the neurons in my brain scrambled together to provide him a response, the bartender gave him his drink and he slowly stumbled away disappearing into the crowd. Too late.

The bartender looked at me expectantly, her hair coming undone from its bun and the sheeny reflection of the stage-lights swimming in the beads of sweat on her brow. “Quick…choose a beer…any beer,” I thought to myself.

“Miller lite, please.” It was my dad’s favorite, and one of mine, too. She handed me a can and I turned back, this time feeling stronger as I fought my way through the crowd to the front and near the stage. Usually Shiner Park’s lights were turned up bright, and the AC would be turned up high, but tonight it was dark in the bar, other than the ring which was fully illuminated, and it felt hot.

As I stood in between random students, the first big fight began to start.

The half-drunk people who paid $40 for ringside seats were arguing amongst each other regarding who was allowed to sit where.

Even though the seats were first come first serve, it did not stop the intoxicated ignorance of a college kid and security had to restore order inside of the alcohol filled wasteland of midget wrestling. 

My biggest foe was fading away fast as my liquid encouragement was juicing me up like I have taken steroids meant for a world class bodybuilder.

I overheard 2 guys to my right talking to themselves and I had to make a quick decision. 

“Hey, where are y’all from?” I said as I barged my way into their conversation. 

What they said was irrelevant as their answers immediately went in one ear and out the other. I was not there to make friends, I had to write a story about the events transpiring before me and I was getting nervous since I feared I would have nothing of substance to write about. 

“What brings you here?” I shouted to them as the music kept increasing in volume.

“We're here to watch these f*cking midgets f*ck each other up,” shouted the one in the red shirt. 

“Yeah, I saw the ad on the internet and I told him about it, we just had to come see it,” said the other. 

“What about it piqued your interest?” I asked. 

“It’s midgets wrestling, it'll be hilarious,” shouted the man in red. 

With that statement alone it dawned on me. “Is that what the others think?” I looked around the room and people were laughing, having a good time, and drinking as much as they could; and I began to realize that maybe – just maybe – not everyone present at Shiner that night was a big fan of wrestling.

It seemed as if most of the people there were only present for some quick entertainment before they went out to explore the night’s various activities at the other Northgate District bars. This famous district has garnered a reputation for being amongst the biggest potential pitfalls for Aggie students, and it even sidelined our own grand champion, Mr. Johnny Football, while he was an undergraduate.

While lost in thought, the event started and cheers echoed throughout the crowd. Spanish-language music began playing, and a smile came to my face, as I am one of the only Latino audience members in the venue. On the sides of my eyes I saw a few people looking at me once the music started playing to see my reaction, but my eyes were fixed on the ring. 

I thought it was odd that the first few wrestlers were straight out of Mexico, but the rest were from elsewhere in Latin America. Overall, the event featured a very diverse cast of characters. As each of the wrestlers were putting their bodies on the line, the crowd was hooting and hollering.

Everyone seemed to enjoy the wrestlers hitting each other with balled up fists and trash cans. Each time a fighter revved up, smiles could be seen throughout the room alongside cheering, laughter and a few random calls of ,"f*ck you,” that were shouted from time to time. Then the show stopped and a brief intermission began. 

Since I finished my first drink I decided to go back to the bar and grab another. I still had a ten dollar bill left from the change the bartender had given me. The bar was full though, so I waited my turn and began to look around. The adrenaline of my liquid courage had began to dissipate.

Away from the ringside, the reality of what was really going on struck like lightning. Something felt wrong as the show was going on, but I could not quite put words to the feeling I had in my gut. As I stared at a small black table I noticed the wrestlers were taking turns manning the merch table. There was never a line, as none of the viewers wanted to spend any extra money to support the wrestlers. They weren’t there because they were fans of the wrestlers. They were there just because they thought it was funny.

I stood still, listening to snippets of conversations. Just about every discussion I heard consisted of “midget this” “midget that.” Whatever conversations didn’t make fun of the fighters’ heights resorted to making fun of how some of the fighters could not speak a lick of English.

One passerby in mid-conversation looked at me, and I glanced down at my phone to begin my swiping and squinting ritual. But as I was deciding which app to click on, a question loomed at the forefront of my mind, and I turned to Google instead. I began rifling through articles that covered the history of the word “midget” and learned that the word was frowned upon and often seen as a slur. But nobody at Shiner Park seemed to mind. The wrestlers did not seem to mind either as throughout the whole show they were auctioning off signed items and breaking them over the head of whoever won.

As I was getting lost in my thoughts the bartender took my order.

“What do you want to drink?” she said with a smile.

“How much is a jack and coke?” I asked.

“$14,” she responded. 

I looked down at what once was $20 now turned to $15 exactly. I decided it would be a business decision to decline the drink since my bank account was in the worst shape it has ever been in. As I was beginning to retreat back into the void, I heard a voice from beside me yell out, “No, f*ck that!” 

I turned to my right and a man was standing there getting himself a couple of drinks.  “I have been there before, man, I know what it’s like to not have sh*t and not be able to buy sh*t,” he said. 

“Don't worry I got you,” he said as he handed the bartender his card.

“Thank you so much I appreciate it,” I said.

“Don’t worry, it’ll get better soon. I was like you once and it f*cking sucked, but now I got all this money and I try to give back to whoever needs it,” he said. 

After he said that, I did not get the chance to respond and he walked away back into the wasteland carrying three different drinks. The sense of community among the spectators made me feel at ease, I felt so content that I forgot about the true monster hiding in plain sight. 

I took my drink and returned back to my ringside spot. The bartender made it way too strong and evenjhough I detested the taste, I forced the bitter beverage down. After all, the drink was free, so I decided it was my duty to not let that random man's kindness and hard earned money go to waste.  

It seemed as if the crowd had gotten their fill of midget wrestling as the venue's numbers slowly dwindled down. The crowd was about half of its original size when the show resumed. 

The wrestlers were putting their bodies on the line to entertain the crowd and they even brought out an average sized woman to wrestle the dwarfs. At the very end they all fought against each other, jumping from the top ropes, hitting each other in their nether regions, throwing each other into poles, and concluding in a huge royal rumble. 

I left my spot as my two newly-acquired friends were long gone. Walking amongst the remaining spectators, I heard laughter from all directions, and the announcer would chime in occasionally to make fun of the wrestlers. It was confusing, and I did not entirely understand what was going on, but it made me feel uneasy. I bolted out the door and walked over to the parking lot. 

Walking was kind of an overstatement, I was wobbling to a nearby bench to figure out how I was going to get home. I waited twenty minutes drifting in and out of consciousness when I got a phone call from a friend who was on their way to pick me up. Nearby, I noted interracial couple having an argument. They were entirely in their own dramatic story and I was gazing at them like a toddler would when it sees a new person.

The argument had toxic shades of an overused Hallmark movie plot and the show Euphoria mixed together. I was watching carefully until my phone buzzed again, and when I looked down everything went black. The feelings of uncertainty, anxiousness, and cold were all gone. I was finally at peace.

When my eyes opened again, I was in the car with my friend driving to an unknown destination.

“How was the event?” she asked.

“What? You mean the midget wrestling?” I responded. 

Unfortunately that response was met with a 10 minute lecture. She scolded me on using the word “midget” and how it was insensitive towards people with dwarfism. She was 100% right. I remember reading online how the word “midget” is considered a slur and insensitive. Although, in my defense, it was literally in the title of the event.

All I could think about was the word “midget,” as it was thrown around from every person I came across at the venue. Why did this happen? Are these people not aware that the word is insensitive or is it really not a big deal?

The only thing that was clear is that the show felt as if it was designed to demean the wrestlers at every point of the show, turning them into a spectacle for our own amusement, and casually tossing around a word considered to be a slur. I fell into the trap and wasted money towards an event willing to make fun of a group of people in order to make money.

The idea was making me sick. As soon as we arrived at our destination, I stumbled up the driveway and into the house. I made it inside and I took what was left of my money and threw it and my wallet to the side, as I made my way towards the bathroom. 

I ended up feeling sick for the rest of the night and my friend ended up taking care of me until I felt good enough to lay down and sleep. In other words, my fate resembled that of every other person who went out for a night of degenerate drinking and entertainment.

My days of fighting for what is right are now over since I felt like dying at the moment but the true enemy is still out there. Those who are willing to exploit those in search of money or fame are hiding at every corner in this country, in plain sight.

In order to stop such a great evil one must see it in themselves to not be invested in entertainment with such an unhealthy dynamic. But how is this possible, if the show is so intriguing?