WRESTLEMANIA 2
(04/07/86)
Ah, Wrestlemania 2. The Hollow Man 2 to
Wrestlemania's Hollow Man. Stop laughing. It's apropos,
I'm telling you. Truth is, until
Wrestlemania 3, they were BRUTALLY bad. It's just
that Wrestlemania 1, like the 1st Hollow Man, was a
tad bit less terrible. So ya,
there you go. Beloved & revered Wrestling
history equated to a shitty Kevin Bacon flick where
he becomes transparent and rapes people, and it's
subsequent straight-to-DVD
sequel.
That said, if only Hogan, like
Bacon, had the ability to become invisible. Only
like, you know, forever. I mean, why not? I mean,
that's been the case with Randy Savage for the last 14
years, so it IS possible (Hollow Man Randy
Savage?). Get your (gigantic beaming orange) head
in the game, Hulk.
Anyway,
this event actually emanated from 3 DIFFERENT venues,
thus giving crowds in Chicago, Uniondale New York and
Los Angeles the chance to witness 3 really terrible
cards, as opposed to just one. Lucky them. The official
tagline was "WHAT THE WORLD HAS COME TO", which
sounds a hell of a lot more like a tagline a studio
would use to move porn. But then again, when you think
about it, the two worlds do have their similarities.
Especially in the 80's. You know, half naked ugly dudes
with giant mustaches trying to lay on people, a
woman being pursued by a horribly un-photogenic
hairy man, midgets in compromising situations, a dude
unfurling his giant snake and laying it someone's
prone body, etc. It's all perverse. Hell, the
WWE's opening at this time even put over "the
Greeks and how they used to do it". Dear god,
this is all getting WAY out of hand. I think
I'll stop now.
Let's get to the action! Kind
of!
UNIONDALE, NEW
YORK~!
Your announcers here are Vince
McMahon and Susan St. James of Kate & Allie, umm,
fame. What, they couldn't get Wesley from
fucking Mr. Belvedere or the hot sister from Alf? What,
Bea Arthur too fucking busy to MC this thing? Holy
shit. Actually, seriously, at this point, St. James
was married to NBC president and McMahon supporter Dick
Ebersole. And obviously, Dick called in a favor and
forced his old lady on WWF here. Man, thank god Vince
learned his lesson from Ebersole here, and saw
that using your position to force family
members and their spouses on everyone is a terrible way
to conduct business. Oh.
Magnificent
Muraco w/ Mr. Fuji vs. Paul "Mr. Wonderful"
Orndorff.
This was a course the big
blow-off to the non-existent feud that was lighting
up no arena in the country. These two were just thrown
together like two retards in a potato sack race and told
'go'. Hell, they didn't even put over the fact that both
men were MASTERS of the piledriver. I myself have a
bachelor's degree in piledriving. Perhaps, one day, when
I finish my tenure at the institution that educated the
feet of Rob Van Dam, I too will have earned my
Masters. My thesis is awesome. It involves turning a man
upside down and dropping him on his head. Degree here I
come.
Oh ya, both men jockey around
for a bit and Orndorff holds onto an impossibly long
wristlock. Hell, even Randy Orton would be shaking his
head. While applying a chinlock. The sad thing
is Mr. Fuji didn't even play a part here. Which
begs the question. How the fuck did anyone ever think
that sticking Fuji as someone's mouthpiece would get
them over? I think I've understood like maybe three
things Fuji's ever said. Something about suffering, I
think. He must have been talking about this match. Even
at 8, I knew it was bad, and I was a kid who thought
neon jammers and acid-wash were like the coolest
shit ever.
Anyway, Muraco ends up dumping
Orndorff and his still proportioned arms-at-the-time
over the top, and both end up getting counted
out in about 4 minutes. Or in the redundancy filled era
of WWF, the official announcement: "Both men have been
counted outside the ring, the official decision: a
double count out...you know, on the account that both
men, those men, both of them, were counted out. So
again. Double count-out. In case you missed
it, both were outside past ten seconds. And the
referee counted. To Ten. They were out. Both. Both
out. Double Count-Out. Ya". Of course I'm just
paraphrasing here....
Randy Savage w/ Elizabeth vs.
George "The Animal" Steele: Intercontinental
Title.
I imagine on WWE's newest
Wrestlemania anthology, Steele is just seen
wrestling a pixilated blob. I myself would mark out if
WWE just opted to replace anyone undesirable in WWE's
history with HHH's head. I mean, let's give these
monkeys something creative to do for once that doesn't
involve skewering every "f" in the universe like it
was a fucking secret mob witness on TV. And besides,
it's not like once Vince dies, Hunter's not going to do
it anyway.
Anyway, these two at this
point were seemingly heterosexual lifemates, as they
would wrestle, and wrestle and wrestle and wrestle and
wrestle for like a year and half before someone
realized, "Holy shit, this is the same
fucking match forever!" and it stopped. That person
than either quit or died when CM Punk and Chavo Guerrero
started feuding.
This match is for the
Intercontinental Title, a title Savage had just
won, nay I say, STOLE a month earlier from Tito
Santana, if the pleas of one Gorilla Monsoon were
to be believed. And why wouldn't they be? The man
taught me everything I know about the
truly important issues, not just limited
to the differences between wristlocks and
wristwatches, respectively. He was especially proficient
at anatomy. It's sad, because I took 4 years
of high school Science and can't remember one fucking
thing, yet, because of Gorilla, I know what the
name of that little bump at the base of my skull is
called, and to avoid compromising my lateral collateral
ligaments. It's just science. Which I
failed.
That all said, this
entire feud was built on George's "pure love" for
Elizabeth. Unlike the rest of us, who wanted to ravage
Mrs. umm, Macho Man Savage in an entirely un-pure
manner. Fuck you, Wrestlemania 2 and The World, Miss
Elizabeth was what I've Come to. Many
times.
The match itself just basically is Steele
chasing Savage in circles and throwing little silly
props at him. It's kind of like The 3 Stooges, only with
more flying elbows and sexual tension. Or less. There
was never any women around on those old episodes, after
all. I still stand by my stooges analogy, though.
I mean, we even had
an idiotic well-meaning fat, bald guy and a
dude with a frazzled receding horse-shoe running in
circles. All we lacked
here was a Moe. Hell, while we're on the topic, I
think Moe had a more varied offense than
what fucking Steele is giving us here. At
least Moe would transition his eye-poke to a hair pull.
Dear god.
Savage eventually gets a
flying axe-handle on the outside to Steele as he
propositioned Elizabeth, and then Savage hits
the flying elbow inside--but Steele kicks out! The only
other dude to ever do that would be another
bald-headed Liz Luster a few of years later.
Steele then utilizes a Greco-roman turnbuckle-padding
toss, but walks into Randy scooping his legs in the
corner and getting pin with his own feet on the ropes
for leverage. ANIMAL CRUELTY~!
Winner & Still Champion:
Randy Savage. The greatest nonexistent
Intercontinental Champion of all time. Ohhh Yeahhh. Dig
it! You know, as in a hole. Then put all records of
his existence in there and cover it back over. Vince
will appreciate it. Trust me.
-Back in Chicago, Gene
Okerlund is standing by with Big John Studd and NFLer
Bill Fralic, whom I think WWE keeps cryogenically frozen
in the basement in Titan Tower and unthaws in the event
of a joint-sport Publicity Stunt. You wrestling
Historians out there will recall that Fralic also showed
up on the USS Intrepid in 1993 and unsuccessfully
attempted to slam Yokozuna. And here, at Wrestlemania,
he was jawing with a dude whom like Yoko, also vowed
that he could not be slammed. Both men also won Royal
Rumbles at number 27, and both are DEAD. And clearly,
Bill Fralic is somehow responsible, with his bodyslams,
boyish grin and strange mismatched unitard.
Clearly, the facts speak for themselves. Attempted
bodyslams hold some sort of long-term ramifications and
shorten lives. Man, no wonder Andre died like a week
after Wrestlemania 3! Perhaps one day Bill Fralic and
Hulk Hogan will be brought to justice. I'd mention,
Luger, too, but well, justice was kind of
already served there. What can I say.
Jake Roberts
vs. George Wells.
Playing the role of SD Jones
tonight will be George Wells. And I say that, because
when it comes to Wrestlemania, black people are
usually not allowed to win matches by pinfall,
unless it's against other black people. The first and
only for YEARS to even win by pinfall would be
Butch Reed, and well, he thought he was a white guy. I
could see how people could make that mistake with that
beautiful blond hair and dark brown skin.
Anyway, this is Jake's big PPV debut and he destroys
Wells, eventually hitting the DDT. We learn on Tuesday
Night Titans soon after from Jake that DDT stands for
"Damien's Dinner Time", which is kind of ironic, because
like 20 years later, it's Jake himself who would forget
to feed Damian and he starved to death. If I didn't know
any better, I'd think that Jake just ate all the food.
Which is also puzzling to me. I thought crack was
supposed to make you thinner? Yet, these days, fucking
circa-1984 Optimus Prime has more of a svelte
upper-body build than both Jake &
Roddy Piper. What gives?
After the match, Jake pulls
out Damian to the horror of Susan St. James. He then
wraps it around Wells, who then begins foaming a
strange white discharge from the mouth. Huh. I
imagine this was the scene after Sylvan Grenier was
interviewed by Pat Patterson for employment in
2003. Three months later, he was Tag Team Champion.
Coincidence? I think not.
-Backstage, Roddy Piper, with
Bob Orton, is interviewed about his boxing match
with Mr. T. He vows that if T can defeat him, he will
retire from boxing, wrestling, tiddlywinks and even
dating girls, but makes a point to say he'll
still keep Bob Orton around. Dear god. Perhaps
there's some road stories Randy hasn't heard from dear
old Dad. Maybe there's a reason why he's dressed like a
member of the fucking Village People for 30 years.
I'm afraid to ask.
Rowdy Roddy
Piper w/ Ace Orton & Lou "Melting under the hot
lights" Duva vs. Mr. T w/ Smokin' Joe Frazier &
Haiti Kid.: BIG OL' FAKE BOXING
MATCH.
Hey look! One of your judges
here is G. Gordon Liddy! One of the masterminds behind
the Watergate break-in. What would Vince have in common
with a guy that shady who refuses to ever really admit
any wrongdoing in a scandal? Oh.
Now, as for the
match, well, I could do round by
round coverage here, but as I mentioned in March
of 2005 during my vaunted "WORST
WRESTLEMANIA MATCHES EVER", I despise this
match and everything it stands for. So, I'm just going
to paraphrase and borrow from that piece, because
like a victim of sexual assault, I don't
really want to relive this moment
again. ("Yes, officer! That man with the mohawk was
the one who did this to me! I still can't watch
really terrible fake boxing without seeing his face!
*sniffle*".).
This match is of course a
fallout from the previous year's Wrestlemania, and was
brought about when Piper & Orton, to get to
T, shaved a midget (Haiti Kid). And yes,
apparently, like giving a Giant a haircut, this
RAPED HIS DIGNITY. So, for those
of you counting, if you give a haircut to ANYONE
with a malfunctioning pituitary gland, it's tantamount
to RAPE. I'd just be thankful it wasn't literal, Haiti.
Imagine the damage Ace's cast could to your nether
regions. You'd be able to shit out another full
midget. So, ya, long story umm, short, T
took offense to this, and challenged both
Orton, and eventually Piper to boxing matches. So,
see, there's already a precedent set as far as
MIDGET ABUSE setting up a marquee
match at this event goes. What can I
say? Sometimes the classics still work. And then
there's beating up midgets.
This was your big payoff. Ten
rounds of sucking. Err Boxing. An actor who's never
really boxed against a dude who only last did
when he was 16 and just looking for an excuse to
not sleep under a fucking park bench.
WRESTLEMANIA: WHERE MEMORIES ARE INDELIBLY ETCHED
INTO THE ANNALS OF TIME. Quick, pass me the WD-40 before
it sets in.
The combatants
enter and we get our introductions. And strangely,
despite promising for weeks, Piper has not painted
himself black. (Unlike Wrestlemania 6). I'd like
to try it myself if only to see if by proxy
I'd get a giant member like stereotypes persist. It
can't hurt. Unless you're a woman on the receiving end,
I suppose. THIS IS THE MOST PERVERTED RANT
EVER.
Oh, for the record, strikes
here against T for having Joe Frazier in his
corner, instead of HOWLING MAD MURDOCH, COL HANNIBAL
and/or the A-Team Van itself. I mean, Frazier? Who
did he ever beat? Oh.
The two "box" for 2
rounds with neither really getting the advantage. Piper
however is getting cheered here and T booed. Perhaps
by on the account that like his speech to
Rocky in Rocky 3, T was bringing Pain. Sure,
it's on the account of his performance, and more of
a mental pain, but hey, whatever. It still hurts.
In
the 3rd round, the match ends
up in a disqualification when Piper bodyslams Mr. T,
which is apparently illegal in boxing or something.
Who'd have thunk it.
Winner by way of boxing
bodyslam disqualification: Mr. T. A
disputed finish not seen since Muhammad Ali lost to
Larry Holmes for busting out a flying head-scissors. Or
not.
CHICAGO~!:
Your commentators are Mean
Gene Okerlund, Gorilla Monsoon and Cathy Lee Crosby. The
other Cathy Lee. No small Asian children were
harmed in the making of these shoes. She is however,
best known for co-hosting the stunt show "THAT'S
INCREDIBLE." It really wasn't that incredible. As
a matter of fact, once you seen one asshole launched out
of a cannon, it gets old pretty quick.
Fabulous Moolah
vs. Velvet McIntyre
As 1986
began, the WWF's women's division was all
but dead. At this point, it was basically
a bunch of fat old ladies in bathing-suits throwing
jimmy elbows. Wrestling Moolah at
this stage was kind of like being caught in the
middle of a flabby armed spanking machine. It
wasn't always this way, though. Just about 6 months
earlier, Wendi Richter was your champion and insanely
over. She then made the unenviable mistake of asking
Vince McMahon for more money, and of course not
putting out for Iron Sheik despite partaking in his
medicine. The rest was history. Vince screwed Wendi.
Then Hugo Savinovich
married
her, and unlike Sheiky, got to screw her anytime he
wanted. Of course, all while insisting
on living in an entirely empty apartment void of
furniture, because it just brings up too many bad
memories. True story.
Anyway, this is match is
basically a lot like my lovemaking. There's an angry
woman, a lot of flailing, at one point someone's facing
the wrong way, more awkwardness, a lot of
discomfort, and bang, it's over in about a minute and
change. The whole thing was basically a
squash, as Moolah hands the "pride of Ireland" (No
wonder they all drink! How depressing!) her seemingly
non-existent ass. The end comes when Velvet goes for a
top rope splash, but misses, and I'll be damned if her
titties didn't come flying out. Unfortunately, this is
an era where all the lady Rassler's looked like members
of your Mom's bridge club, so put away your cock,
funboy. Moolah then gets the academic pin and
retains the title. Yes, academic. Reading, math and
school boy roll ups. No wonder our education system is
in such trouble...
Cpl. Kirshener
vs. Nikolai Volkoff: FLAG MATCH.
Ah yes. The Flag Match.
Featuring the 82nd Airborne's contribution to the WWF,
Cpl. Kirshener; a man, whom like Sgt. Slaughter before
him, never seemed to ever raise his rank. I
mean, come on, it's been 30 years, shouldn't they both
be fucking Generals by now?
Anyway, as if it wasn't
evident, the winner of this match gets to wave their
Flag. The whole things lasts about 2 fucking minutes,
but not before they somehow shoehorned fifteen minutes
worth of bullshit into it. Seriously, there was a blade
job AND a ref bump in the first 90 seconds. Holy
shit. Classy Freddie Blassie tries to toss Nikolai
his cane, but Kirshener catches it, levels Vokoff and
gets the pin...for AMERICA. It's said that Gorbachev was
so horrified by this match, that he immediately
ended communism, and tore down the Berlin
Wall, so he could re-erect it around his
Television set. Save me a piece, Gorby.
Winner: Cpl Kirshener! This
would be the last match I think I ever saw The Corporal
win. He'd do about 3000 straight jobs in a row, and
then go to Japan where he reinvented himself as
LEATHERFACE. Yes, he traded in his flag and
beret for a chainsaw and cannibalism. Holy shit.
What did the VIETNAM WAR do to this man?!
Ahem.
20 MAN INVITATIONAL BATTLE
ROYAL.
My
invitation must have been lost in the mail. Oh
well. it looked like a shitty party
anyway.
This is of course the famed
Battle Royal featuring Wrestlers and Football players
alike. Your outside Referees are Dick "what the fuck did
MY Ancestors do for a living" Butkus and Ed "Too
Tall" (Seriously! Stop growing already!)
Jones.
The wrestlers included
were Andre The Giant, King Tonga, (Haku) who
umm, must have abdicated his umm, throne, if he's
selling used cars on the panhandle these days; The Hart
Foundation, Bruno Sammartino, Iron Sheik, B. Brian Blair
(watch your ass. Literally!), Jumping Jim Brunzell, "Not
Jumping Around For Whitey Yet" Tony Atlas (that'd
be about 4 more years), Hillbilly Jim, or Jim
as he's know back in them there hills, "The World's
Strongest Man" and wrestling's contribution to wearing
his socks like my grandfather: Ted
Arcidi; Pedro Morales, Big John Studd and
Golden Boy Danny Spivey, who's wearing gold trunks
with long blond hair. Silly, Spivey. No tall
heavily-tanned blond dude in yellow trunks ever got
over in this company! ahem.
On the football side you had
Jimbo Colvert, Harvey Martin, Ernie Holmes, Bill
Fralic, Russ Francis,...who if you squinted hard enough
looked like Gabe Kaplan from Welcome Back Kotter, and
WWE HALL OF FAMER~!, WILLIAM 'THE REFRIGERATOR' PERRY. I
guess he got that name, because like a fridge, he's
filled entirely with food. He's since upgraded to
an industrial freezer if you saw him at the Hall Of Fame
a couple of years ago. But seriously, how hilarious is
it, that a guy who TOOK ONE BUMP, is in the Hall of
Fame, yet there's dudes who MAIN EVENTED WRESTLEMANIA
and won the WWF Title who still haven't, and
probably will never be inducted.
Anyway, I'd recap this whole
thing, but It's a BATTLE ROYAL. You know what happened.
Dudes held onto the ropes with other dudes actually
holding them in place so they don't accidentally fall
out. All you need to know is Studd eliminated Perry,
elbowing the Fridge out after a failed corner
charge (The crisper broke, and there was food
everywhere!), and then Perry illegally eliminated Studd
soon after with a fake handshake of sportsmanship.
No wonder the Studd family never asked him to pall
bearer. He'd walk half way down the church,
then flip the casket. He'd then eat all the little
tiny sandwiches during the wake. It'd be awkward
for everybody. Your final five are Andre, Russ
Francis, his porn mustache, and the Hart Foundation. Ya,
needless to say, Andre, looking like he squeezed
himself into a child's underwear, ended up prevailing.
After Francis was sent to the floor and back to 1972 to
finish depositing his load in the face of Marilyn
Chambers, The Hart's double-teamed Andre, who then
got tired of this shit and tossed them out one after the
other. He then drank 3000 bottles of wine backstage,
and still didn't die. Unlike with that
Hogan bodyslam.
The Dream Team
(Brutus Beefcake & Greg Valentine) w/ Johnny
V. Vs. The British Bulldogs w/ Capt. Lou Albano
& Ozzy Osbourne(~!) : WWF Tag Team Title
match.
This is the Bulldogs last
title shot against Beefcake & Valentine, and for
tonight, they have Ozzy in their corner! But why? What
would a completely drug-addled dude from England have in
common with Davey Boy Smith & Dynamite Kid?
Oh.
The Bulldogs control most of
this one, but the tide turns when Beefcake nearly kills
Davey with a hammerlock slam with his arm behind his
back. It's not Warrior's trap door of Destrucity
shedding 40 years off your life, but it's close.
From there, Hammer & Beefcake takes turns
double-teaming Davey, but eventually, he has the
foresight to run Hammer right into Dynamite's head on
the apron--which thanks to all the HGH the dude had
ingested, was about the size of a European car.
Valentine's head then explodes, he dies, and Davey
scores the pin and the titles. Great match. Ozzy
then comes into the ring and celebrates with the
new champions. Thank God Matilda wasn't there. At this
stage, Ozzy would have ate her.
LOS
ANGELES~!
Your hosts
are Lord Alfred Hayes, Jesse "The Body" Ventura &
Elvira "Holy
shit, now that's a body" Mistress of the Dark. I may not
be nosferatu, but I wouldn't mind burying a stiff there.
I'm telling you.
Ricky "The
Dragon" Steamboat vs. Hercules
Hernandez
Holy shit, check out the afro
on Herc here. You can't tell me the motherfucker
couldn't track down a reputable barber anywhere on the
Isle of Crete? Call in a favor with your old man. When
he's done throwing lightning for no reason, maybe he can
have Hermes run your ass a pair of
scissors.
Anyway, this match was
originally SUPPOSED to be Steamboat vs. BRET
HART, but that was scrapped in favor of
THIS. Holy shit. That'd be like somehow
booking the Rolling Stones for a gig, then telling them,
"never mind, we got one of the assholes
from Kid & Play, instead". Dear god. In any
event, Ricky Steamboat proceeds to do what he does best:
ARM DRAG. And of course arm drag. Why not? It
seemed to work on all those Ninjas on Saturday Night's
Main Event. Clearly, the Samurai's needed more
body-presses and armdrags and less SWORDPLAY. I'm
telling you.
Anyway, Herc presslams Dragon,
and holy shit, he better, he is Hercules after
all...with a jewfro, but hey, I'm not
nitpicking. Herc then goes up, and misses a
splash when Steamer brings his knees up. Fucking
Hercules doesn't fly, dumbshit. Who'd need strength if
you could fuck off on out of there?
Anyway, Steamboat then goes up top himself and puts
Herc away with the flying bodypress. Let me get this
straight, Hercules can perform the 12 feats &
labors but not catch one flying Hawaiian? Holy
shit. Time to hand in your Leather lederhosen there,
Herc, and go back to Tampa err Greece and call it a
night.
Adrian Adonis
vs. Uncle Elmer
This was totally throw away
match. Good luck throwing either one of these guys,
though. Uncle Elmer was of course a Hillbilly, and kin
as it were to one Hillbilly Jim. Why, when he's not
around his family, he can't be just called "Elmer" is
beyond me. It reminds me of the time Vince called
Shelton Benjamin's Mama, umm, "Mama". As for Adonis, the
last time he was seen on pay-per-view, he was still
heterosexual, despite wearing the same gay little
leather outfit that dude from the Village People wears.
The urban legend was that Vince was so angry that
Adonis' weight had ballooned so much, that he made him
gay as a result. You gotta love wrestling. It's the only
place in the world--other than prison-- where someone
CAN FORCE YOU to become a homosexual.
Anyway, this match is brutal,
not that poor Adonis, who was tremendously underrated,
didn't try to bump for Elmer. It's just, at this stage,
there's fucking sequoias out in the woods with more
mobility than Elmer. And charisma. Elmer eventually
misses a leg drop, allowing Adrian to go up top,
and finish
with one big hurdling ball of
gayness. Not that Elmer minds, I'm sure. I've seen
Deliverance a few times. Those boys get funny when there
be no women-folk around.
Winner: Adrian
Adonis.
Terry &
HOSS Funk vs. Junkyard Dog and Tito
Santana.
Hey, somebody needs to get JYD
some lower calorie Pedigree Pal, stat. He looks like
he's ready to give birth to a litter here. Anyway, this
is the big blow-off in the feud between Terry Funk &
JYD. Hoss is of course Terry's brother, Dory, after WWF
ran him through the silly rolodex of insulting
stereotyped names. Although, knowing Vince, and how
many decades he's fucking behind in Pop Culture, he
probably named him after one of the brothers on Bonanza.
Remember, this is a company that had a character named
BEAVER CLEAVAGE. I can just picture Vince trying to book
a musical act for this year's Wrestlemania: " Someone
get me those Monkees that are so popular with the kids
these days!".
Anyway, JYD & Tito control
much of the tempo here with Terry bumping all over the
place. Eventually, Dory comes in but gets hit with
Tito's flying forearm. I imagine this is how Tito
got into America in the first place. He laid out INS
agent with the flying forearm and sunset-flipped right
over the other one, than just kept running. You'll
notice that EVERY Mexican wrestler in the U.S. is a high
flyer. THIS IS HOW THEY GOT HERE. I promise
you.
The Funks soon rally and alienate Tito.
They tell him that his mother never loved him, he has no
friends, and the person he thinks is his father
actually isn't. Or maybe they just cut him off from
making the tag. I like my version
better. Eventually,
Tito makes the caliente tag to JYD who comes in a house
of fire. Or maybe a mansion of fire in honor of his
extra poundage. However, JYD makes the mistake of going
after Jimmy Hart on the apron, perhaps to once
again pants him, but Terry retrieves Hart's megaphone,
knocks out Dog, and gets the pin. Just goes to show you,
no good has EVER came from trying to tear another man's
pants off. Except maybe cigarettes in Prison. Or a WWE
Title reign in mid 2004.
Hulk Hogan vs. King Kong Bundy:
STEEL CAGE MATCH for WWF Championship.
Your guest announcer is Tommy Lasorda,
and your guest referee, AKA, THE DUDE THAT OPENS AND CLOSES THE
CAGE DOOR LIKE 3 TIMES, TOPS, is William Conrad of Wild
Wild West fame, and money well spent, clearly. If it
wasn't for him, how'd the wrestlers
ever figure out that complicated little latch?
It'd be anarchy. And,
finally, your time-keeper is Ricky Schroeder.
Seriously. They paid thousands of dollars to a celeb to
hold a stopwatch for like 7 minutes. Who even cares
about the time? What's even the point? Oh
no, People won't ever stop wrestling! The
shows will run 24 straight hours! Come on. Considering a
good portion of people paid 30 bucks(?) for a bunch
of fucking 3 minute matches in a row, I'm thinking
this douchebag should be as discreet as possible. Ya,
let's keep a running tally of how much of my 3
hours you've fucking wasted.
Just so you know, this was the
WWF TV debut of the BIG BLUE CAGE~!, that replaced
the cyclone-fenced one, only to be quietly replaced
again by said cyclone-fence in 1998. The reason for its
creation? EASY. By creating spaces between the bars the
size of fucking pizza boxes, Hulk could easily fit
his big yellow clodhoppers in the holes, without the
worry of actually having to expend any real energy,
bruther. Plus, it made it much easier for the cameras
and the audience to see those inevitable bodyslams,
dude.
As a result of a brutal attack
by Bundy a month earlier on Saturday Night's Main Event,
Hogan has his ribs taped up here. Huh. Why not just
paint a big bull's-eye on your radiated orange middle
there, Hulk? The funny thing is, from about
1986-90, if you were big, fat, and evil, chances
are you'd eventually flop your giant
heaving body on top of the Hulkster a few times and
break his ribs. Hogan was ALWAYS breaking his ribs and
suffering internal injuries at this point in his
life...then of course, returning to action like 3 weeks
later. Which just goes to show you what I've ALWAYS
known, if you've been grievously injured, burned or
maimed, your best bet is to BE A WRESTLER, because
this stuff never sticks here. Not ever. Well,
unless it's a quad tear. That shit is like taking an
arrow to the heel.
Bundy immediately goes after
Hulk's ribs and starts to unwrap him. It definitely
lacks the base sensuality of Joseph Feinnes gingerly
unwrapping Gwyneth Paltrow in Shakespeare in Love.
That, and with more thunderous big splashes. Or
any. Bundy then uses the tape to by god choke the life
out of Hulk. Now, why he wouldn't, just, I don't know,
punch him in his exposed, broken ribs, is beyond
me. That'd be like somehow taking the fucking cast off
Bob Orton, then applying a side-headlock. Bundy
eventually switches gears (he has two: elbow drop, and
splash) and begins PUNISHING Hogan's ribs. He tells
them that they're going to their room, with NO
supper, and can't come out until they clean up the mess
they've made. That Bundy is all about discipline,
I'm telling you.
Eventually, Bundy makes the
mistake of avalanching Hogan--the move that broke the
ribs in the first place-- but Hogan's all like "no way,
bruther". And goes back on offense. I've never
understood why Hulk always waits until the absolute most
painful shit before deciding "Fuck it, dude, I'm not
selling anymore". If you have this ability ALL ALONG,
why not just fucking use it after the first move? Hell,
he even lets people full on punch him in the face TWICE
before he even thinks of trying to block. This is why I
LOVE wrestling. Seriously. It's the only place in the
world where the seriously maimed can suddenly spring
back to life like nothing's happened. Seriously. Go to
the Emergency Room sometime and punch someone right in
their diseased pancreas, I guarantee you they won't
start quivering and then point a menacing finger in your
direction. They'll just spit up a bit, go into shock and
die. Trust me. The police never bought my Hulkamania
defense.
Anyway, Hogan then ends
up POWER-SLAMMING Bundy(~!) off a missed Avalanche
follow-up. Holy shit, Hulk must be feeling spry, he's
varied his offense and that NEVER happens, bruther.
Hogan then drops the leg, and begins climbing the cage,
because going through the door is absurd, dude. Bundy,
then comes back to life, and tries to grab Hulk's orange
leg, bruther, but gets kicked off, and plummets to the
mat. I never understood why announcers never equated
this to the actual death of King Kong, since, to me, the
parallels always seemed there. Well, once you
discount the fact that Bundy looked more like giant baby
with his all-over Brazilian he was rocking here, and
less like an Ape. I couldn't have been the only one that
wanted Bobby to give the King Kong eulogy at the end.
T'wasn't the Fall that killed the beast. It was that big
orange dude there with the bald head no one's ever
supposed to mention." They may have changed it a
bit since 1933. Oh, ya, Hogan wins. He then beats
the shit out of Bobby Heenan after the match to close
the show, bruther. That's the 5th commandment, dude.
Kick the hell out of people smaller than you. It's
probably the only one I did obey...
FINAL THOUGHTS:
This was a total two match show, even though I have
always liked the Cage match. Hogan was always magic
there. Seriously. One minute he's kicking you in the
face, and the next he's pulling a never-ending red
& yellow ribbon from his trunks, then
bang, holy shit, there's a rabbit. It's quite
amazing. And bullshit. But hey, whatever. Fact is,
Wrestlemania hadn't found its niche yet. At this point,
it was just basically a televised random wrestling
card. Most of the matches were make-shift and meant
nothing. However, at this stage, wrestling was
NOT over-exposed, and we were just happy
to have whatever scraps we got. We were kind of
like Ethiopians eating someone's fucking bread crusts.
We're just happy to be digesting anything besides
our own vital internal organs. And today? Well,
were all fat and greedy. That's Wrestlemania. I think.
Thumbs Up for Nostalgia.
Thumbs Down for the Wrestling. Jazz Hands 'cause I
feel like dancin'! Look at me go!
I'm Sean.
Sean
Carless is a man of many hats. And he wears those hats to cover an
ever-increasing bald spot. Sean's various scribblings
have been read at Live Audio Wrestling , 411
Mania, Wrestlecrap, Honky Tonk Man.com, The
Toronto Star.com, and Lethal Wrestling. He has also
cured AIDS.
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