Increasingly so in later years, WWF was more like a soap opera than a sport - the real enjoyment came from all the behind the scenes storylines, the despicable scheming and skullduggery of the baddies and the downright greatness of the goodies.
One of the staple storylines that would always be a blockbuster for Vince McMahon's corporation was a good old comeback. Whether it be the return from the brink of death a la Brutus the Barber Beefcake; 'actual' death a la The Undertaker; or just settling an old score like the Nature Boy Ric Flair or of course the Hulkster. You couldn't beat a comeback for sheer drama, rolling back the years, coming back with a vengeance and proving to the new breed of punks they just can't throw down like the old school.
The Premier League has been evolving ever closer to the WWF over recent years - more often at the top end in particular the actual football seems to take a back seat to some kind of sensationalist plot or storyline. Most of the time this can be dismissed as the tabloid press stirring up a story to fill the inches, but every so often there are subplots in the football that can't be ignored, and could scarcely be conceived of in Vince McMahon's wildest dreams.
The comeback of Paul Scholes is one such unbelievable development. Last year at Wrestlemania he bowed out of the ring for the final time, an undoubtable legend with a decade and a half of success to look back on. He realised that he was no longer able to lay the smackdown like he used to and thought it best to step aside, maybe joining the likes of Paul Bearer and Bobby the Brain Heenan in a coaching/managerial role.
Now, suddenly, he's back and which is more he is straight into the action. For 30 minutes or so in the derby win over Man City, United fans got to witness the sight they had enjoyed for so long and pined for since last May. But this for me is where the plot turns sour.
Like returning to a beloved childhood holiday spot only to realise it is, in fact, a shithole; having your heroes turning out when past their best is more likely to end in pain and desecration than anything good. The romance in any football fan would love to think that Scholes, and for that matter Thierry Henry (who is slightly exempt since at least he has still been playing regular football and is only here for a brief period) can shine as bright as they both did in their pomp. Both of their clubs have injury problems which have proven to be the catalyst for the returning legends and both clubs are in a position where a tangible improvement could yield great results, so the scene is perfectly set.
If this was wrestling, Arsenal and Manchester United would make it to the FA Cup final and their two superstars would end up trading blows in the centre circle at Wembley until Roy Keane popped up and gave Scholesy a steel chair. They'd probably have the classic mutual respect legends ending too, embracing and then turning to face the adulation of the inbred hick masses that actually go to wrestling as grown men.
It's not wrestling though, is it. It's football and the reality is that football, more often than not, does not take prisoners. The romance of the cup is all well and good but in the first couple of minutes when Paul Scholes' poor touch led to City getting a second goal back, football demonstrated that it loves to ruin a perfectly good storyline.
Of course, fairytales do happen and there is always the chance that Scholes' introduction could revitalise United - proving temporary cover in a problematic area and giving a touch of experience to benefit some younger players. I don't believe it will happen myself, and if I was one of United's supposedly promising youngsters like Paul Pogba or Ravel Morrison, I'd be somewhat miffed at the old grandad deciding actually he does still fancy a run out and being given a go ahead of me.
In closing, I had the chance in 2004 to meet Jake the Snake Roberts, a hero of mine from my 1992-94 wrestling obsessed days. He was doing an appearance at my Uni, and I made sure I was in the right bar at the right time so I could be front of the queue to meet the great man. The overweight, dishevelled, depressed looking old man that stood before me dealt such a crushing blow to my memory of Jake the Snake that I really wish I had never gone to meet him.
For Scholes, Henry, and any other veteran player fancying another throw of the dice, they should seriously think twice before tarnishing the memory of all they achieved.
EDIT - Woke up this morning to the news that Henry scored the winner in a fairytale return for the Gunners. Thanks Thierry, for trashing my entire theory. It's a funny old game!
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