My youth was a time when professional wrestling was a truly seedy occupation — the sort of gig a high school guidance counselor would have slotted alongside loser careers such as carnival geek, marijuana “pusher” or projector operator at the XXX drive-in theater.

In Dallas, pro wrestlers toiled in a huge, beer-painted tin shed called the Sportatorium in a beleaguered part of town. The villains were the Great Kabuki (and his mysterious Green Mist), King Kong Bundy and the Free Birds, and they went to war every Saturday and Monday nights against the angelic Von Erich family and their deadly “Iron Claw” grip. When the bouts were over, all of the grapplers would presumably go back to the same mobile home park and share potted meat and cheap wine.

Anymore? The WWE, or World Wrestling Entertainment, is a huge business — sort of like a sweaty Microsoft — and its stars are afforded the same fame as the Royal family, the Kardashians and Food Network chefs.

If celebrity wrestling is your thing, head to the luxurious Mohegan Sun Arena Friday night for a WWE Smackdown. The card includes Charlotte Flair, Braun Strowman, The Brawling Brutes, Sami Zayn — and a tilt featuring the OC’s Luke Gallows and Karl Anderson vs. The Judgement Day’s Finn Balor and Damian Priest.

Me? I’ll be hanging out with my carnival geek pals.

WWE Smackdown, 7:30 p.m. Friday, Mohegan Sun Arena; $70-$130; www.mohegansun.com.