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It was a run worth remembering: For a time, the WCW ultimately bested its hated rival, Vince McMahon's WWF. The battle set the stage for professional wrestling's unprecedented popularity today. But that was long ago, and as viewers watched they were ineluctably reminded of how the WCW's wheels fell off. With a burnt-out creative team, aging stars and a hesitant Turner bureaucracy that never could decide how far down-market to chase its more vulgar WWF opponent, WCW collapsed. On April 3, viewers watched the WCW's own announcers essentially look back on national television and ask, "What went wrong with this company?"

It was a strange moment in the strange world of TV sports-entertainment -- but not unusual. WCW in recent months has taken on a morbid fascination among wrestling fans, who now watch to see just how bad it can get and how low its ratings could sink. April 3's "Monday Nitro" answered both questions. The Nielsens showed that the two-hour show logged a tiny 1.8 rating, "Nitro's" lowest rating ever. (The second hour actually sagged to 1.3.) Just two years ago "Nitro" flirted with ratings in the 5's.

Overall, WCW's television ratings are off 40 percent from a year ago, live show attendance has fallen 76 percent and its take at the gate is down 74 percent for March, according to the Wrestling Observer. (Some WCW arena shows today barely draw 1,000 people.) The most telling figures, though, come from pro wrestling's real cash cow, pay-per-view events. Both WCW and WWF sponsor one every month. In March, 47,000 people shelled out $29.95 to buy WCW's "Uncensored" PPV, generating less than $1 million in revenue. Compare that to WWF's early April "Wrestlemania," the biggest draw of the year. Nearly 900,000 fans forked over at least $34.95 (dedicated followers had the option of an all-day "Wrestlemania" PPV package for $49.95), for a total of more than $30 million. Not bad for a single day's revenue.

Today, WWF's head-to-head competitor, Monday night's "Raw Is War," routinely doubles and sometimes even triples WCW's paltry viewership. And for the year, WCW's ratings on TNT, as well as the shows on its sister station, TBS, are off 40 percent from 1999, a costly blow to the Turner bottom line. WCW is bleeding money and on track to lose $25 million this year, according to Wrestling Observer publisher Dave Meltzer.

Compare that with WWF's money machine. In 1999, the Vince McMahon-led company pocketed $56 million, and could earn nearly $90 million this year off revenues approaching $400 million. In the meantime, WWF bio books by mainstays the Rock and Mankind have shipped over 1 million copies to stores. Ratings for NBC's "Saturday Night Live" jumped 30 percent when the Rock was asked to host. CBS and USA are busy battling in court over WWF broadcast rights, WWF toys fly out of stores and editors continue to line up at WWF's door hoping wrestlers will appear on their magazine covers to produce lucrative newsstand sales jumps.

In contrast, the WCW recently attempted to broaden the brand with the David Arquette wrestling flick "Ready to Rumble," starring WCW grapplers. Dubbed "moronic and insulting" by Entertainment Weekly, it got pinned at the box office.

In other words, WWF, as a cultural entity, is on fire. How can WCW be so cold? After all, just a couple of years ago WWF and WCW were locked in a competitive, Avis vs. Hertz battle. Suddenly, the contest has morphed into Avis vs. Rent-A-Wreck.

To the casual observer, WCW and WWF weekly telecasts seem to be mirrors of one another as look-alike, beefed-up wrestlers with pounding rock themes parade around arena rings. If only the business were that simple. Instead, today's sports entertainment is a curious blend of buzz, luck and brains, all wrapped in testosterone. Wrestling fans know what they like: larger-than-life stars, plausible plot lines that maintain some semblance of continuity from week to week and a touch of the outlaw. But they can also smell a loser and will flee it in a heartbeat. "Brand loyalty in wrestling doesn't last," says Meltzer. "It changes every Monday night depending on whoever's got the hot product."

Turner and WCW have languished on the bottom before. But that was a decade ago. And once the WCW overtook the WWF, few in the business imagined its return to the basement would ever be so swift.

The Atlanta-based media mogul entered the wrestling ring in 1989 when he bought the struggling WCW (then the National Wrestling Alliance) from promoter Jim Crockett for $10 million. Getting badly beaten by McMahon's WWF, Turner considered giving up in 1993. But things soon began to fall into place. As McMahon battled public charges of steroid distribution among WWF wrestlers in 1994, Turner used his deep pockets to lure WWF superstar Hulk Hogan to the WCW, where he became Hollywood Hogan. Still trailing in the ratings, though, WCW decided to launch "Monday Nitro," pitting its wrestlers right up against WWF's showcase program, which also aired on Monday nights.

Insiders called the move a mistake. But with its live telecast (compared to WWF's then-taped shows), backstage intrigue and running story lines, "Monday Nitro" changed the look and feel of professional wresting. WCW was suddenly cool and its wrestlers were being invited down to do cameos on MTV's "Spring Break." By 1998, with established stars like Diamond Dallas Page, Bret Hart, Kevin Nash and newcomer sensation Goldberg riding high, the WCW, enjoying sold-out shows, top ratings and strong PPV buys, cranked out $48 million in profits.

But McMahon had an answer: the mad-as-hell, hard-as-nails Stone Cold Steve Austin. (Insult to injury -- he was a WCW castoff.) And when McMahon inserted himself into the ring as an overbearing corporate boss forever screwing with Austin, he unleashed perhaps the most successful promotion in pro wrestling history. (Of course, an unprecedented amount of profanity and T&A didn't hurt WWF's surge either.)

Next page | Do WCW fans really want cat-fighting Nitro Girls?