I address you today as an emissary — an intermediate between the naive and the… I address you today as an emissary — an intermediate between the naive and the nameless, an ambassador between the unmindful and the unsung and, above all else, a medium between the disdainful and the disrespected.

Hello, my name is Drew Singer, and I am a professional wrestling fan.

In a poll conducted by International Communications Research, based in Media, Pa., professional wrestling ranked as the second-most hated sport in the world, second only to dog fighting.

While it is socially acceptable to watch practically every show on television, professional wrestling, for some reason, remains a taboo. It wasn’t until a past episode of WWE Monday Night Raw, when the entire company shipped off to perform live for soldiers serving in Afghanistan, that I came to appreciate just how much more professional wrestlers have to endure than, well, everyone else.

Professional wrestling is an act, of course, but what isn’t? Twenty-two million of you are watching ‘CSI’ on any given Thursday evening, yet no one changes the channel because the actors aren’t actually crime scene investigators. ‘The Sopranos’ are no more Mafioso than I am, and your beloved ‘Simpsons’ aren’t even real people. Regardless, wrestling remains the sole scapegoat for fabrication of television.

If watching a full-grown man named ‘Sergeant Slaughter’ feud with someone masquerading as ‘The Boogeyman’ just isn’t your cup of coffee, no one’s making you watch — but why the disrespect? Professional wrestling is an art. And I don’t mean that in a broadminded anything-can-be-considered-art sort of way. Professional wrestling is actually a legitimate performance art.

‘Commedia dell’arte,’ or ‘the comedy of professional arts,’ as it translates from Italian, dates back to the 1500s. Back in the day, traveling teams of acrobats and jugglers, acting as established characters, would perform their crafts through a humorous storyline.

It’s that storyline that seems to scare away many would-be fans. ‘It’s scripted,’ haters remind me. Truth. Wrestling is, without exception, entirely, 100 percent scripted. But it is by no means fake.

That fallacy is the foremost reason why wrestling receives so little respect. While Sgt. Slaughter’s Cobra Clutch, for example, might not be as painful as said Boogeyman might suggest, it is no illusion. These acrobatic actors often endure painfully real injuries, as only so much can be done to safeguard their increasingly impressive maneuvers.

Throughout history, progressive thinkers — especially in the arts — have received nothing but neglect until well past their time. Perhaps we should pause and ask ourselves, are professional wrestlers yet another shunned avant-garde, who are, simply put, ahead of their time?

Who will usher our era into the future? As we await the next generation of John Lennons and George Lucases, will we make the same close-minded mistakes as our forefathers?

If the next epoch of Platos and Picassos happens to carry pseudonyms such as ‘Psicosis’ and ‘Scotty 2 Hotty,’ we should nevertheless be prepared to accept these gentlemen as pioneers. I sure know that I am.

E-mail Drew at [email protected].