When one contemplates it, what is really needed for a wrestling show? Obviously wrestlers, but cameras, chairs, even fans have been proven optional. For every multimillion dollar gate that WWE or AEW bring in, there are plenty of low-end mudshows in abandoned fields or some guy\u2019s mom\u2019s backyard.<\/p>\n
What makes wrestling interesting is that there is such a stark contrast from the mainstream brands where talent is seasoned with years on the road and the guidance of backstage staff bankrolled by a publicly-traded conglomerate.<\/p>\n
On the other end, small-scale shows offer a chance for budding talent to experiment for a more intimate showing.<\/p>\n
There\u2019s always the middle ground too, where independent promotions with connections to the larger companies book talent previously showcased on television. The point of this is to emphasize how wrestling\u2019s mood changes depending on the space it inhabits.<\/p>\n
With repetition and success, these spaces become synonymous with their geological location. Regular fans become part of the mythos, being recognized among circles as superfans such as Vladimir Abouzeide<\/a> of New York City.<\/p>\n As one goes to more shows, their praises or grievances are known as a weekly viewer of The Product<\/i>. Crowds become just as a part of the show as the set itself, from fan altercations with the talent to verbal abuse, sometimes profane, chants.<\/p>\n With all these in mind, here are some of the most iconic venues in wrestling and the moments that planted them into wrestling mythology.<\/p>\n2300 Arena<\/h3>\n