A common tactic in a pro wrestling match, especially a “Jobber Squash” match, is to toss the opponent over or between the ropes, sending him crashing down to the cold, hard floor. His job at that point is to lay broken and injured, a pathetic object of compassion or contempt. He must now peel his hurt body off the dirty floor and crawl back into the ring with his tail between his legs before the ref counts him out. It was always a striking image, to see the man’s body sprawled out and exposed on the floor, motionless and vulnerable as if he’s asleep.
Being tossed out of the ring is a gesture of humiliation, sent down to where the fans spit, rolling around in puddles of stale beer and used napkins, at the crowd’s feet. This treatment was reserved for the most submissive, wimpy jobbers, and is seen as a slap in the face. Also, wrestlers pride themselves on their dexterity and speed, so laying on your back motionless is a sign of weakness and defeat. And a good jobber, a true doormat, won’t just lay there either — he’ll twist around, sprawl and kick his legs, clutch his back, gyrate, put on a great show of agony and ecstasy.
In the Glory Days of studio rassling, where jobber squashes were on the menu every week, it was almost a given that the cute young rookie would, at some point, be violently and carelessly tossed to the floor, like a crumpled up old beer can. This offered the fans at ringside a close-up look at his battered flesh, tussled hair, too-tight trunks, whatever struck their fancy.
The kid’s degradation would be prolonged by repetition, because each time he tried to get back in the ring, he’d suffer a knee to the gut or cruel elbow smash that sent him right back down where he belongs. It was almost like the heel wrestler was training a puppy, smacking it with the newspaper each time it tried to walk on the living room rug. The poor kid would then rub his back or grip his head, whatever body part had struck the concrete on the last bump to the floor.
I often wondered how the weakling jobber must feel when he took a humiliating beating like this — what if his family, what if his father, was watching him, totally helpless and unable to even get in the ring??
It was a frustrating dilemma for a young wrestling fan to watch the jobber repeatedly crawl over to the ropes, dazed and unsteady, only to be hammered again and sent back down to his knees on the floor. On the one hand, you wanted him to get back in the ring quick so they could rassle some more (and you certainly didn’t want a count-out just when the match was getting interesting), but on the other hand, it was so deliciously sadistic and crude, to see him repeatedly blocked and beaten down, so you would mentally encourage the baddie to kick him in the head one more time.
