Showing posts with label Sting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sting. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 24, 2019

Thursday, October 3, 2019

Friday, April 5, 2019

Saturday, October 27, 2018

Revisiting WCW Halloween Havoc 1990!

We've got the Steiners and the Nastys beating the shit out of each other, Arn Anderson and Ric Flair trying to start a race war and STAN HANSEN YELLING AT A PUMPKIN ... could you ask for anything more in a Halloween special?

Monday, May 28, 2018

Revisiting WCW Great American Bash '96!

It's the last WCW PPV before the N.W.O. angle kicked off ... and it's everything you love (and hate) about mid-1990s World Championship Wrestling condensed into one three hour block!


By: Jimbo X

Is there anything in this world comfier than 1990s WCW? Specifically, mid-1990s WCW, right before the whole N.W.O. shtick got started and you were still getting awesome heavyweight main events and seeing all the cruiserweights enter the fray and they were still letting guys like Chris Benoit and Kevin Sullivan do preposterously violent shit on live television — all while the dulcet (and hardly intelligible) commentary of Dusty Rhodes washed over the predetermined madness at hand.

I'm not sure why, but to me, WCW always feels like such a summery product — even the seasonal stuff like Halloween Havoc and Starrcade feels like it was just meant to be watched in a double-wide trailer in the woodlands of Alabama on an illegal cable box with the temperatures around 90 degrees in the shade, and if that doesn't put your soul at ease, I don't know what will.

So enter the 1996 Great American Bash. This was the calm before the storm, so to speak, as the last WCW PPV before the heel turn heard the 'round world at that year's Bash at the Beach. You could kinda' see the company trying to change gears with the Kevin Nash and Scott Hall as "furtive WWF invaders" storyline, but you still had a lot of loose ends hanging around. For example, at this point in time we still had the Dungeon of Doom feuding with the Four Horseman, and the Giant being pushed as a literally unstoppable killing machine capable of squashing top faces clean in the ring in five minute anti-bouts. So basically, what we had here was a company just on the cusp of its biggest creative (and financial) breakthrough ever, but still slogging through some of its more forgettable moments of its post-Hogan years. So yeah, this show is kinda' like Germany in-between WWI and WWII ... and I mean that in both really positive and really negative connotations.

But why listen to me flap my lips when we've got this old-ass video cassette right here to tell us what's what? Adjust that tracking and make sure your Mason jar of Dr. Shasta is ice cold ... it's time to party like it's 1996, ya'll!

The VHS begins with ads for Uncensored, Slamboree and Bash at the Beach '96 and yep, they are all cheesy as fuck,

The PPV begins promos from fucking EVERYBODY — Bobby the Brain, Lex Luger, Ric Flair, Macho Man and even Kevin Greene, for whatever reason.

We are calling this shindig LIVE from Balimore. Is it just me, or did they ALWAYS do the Great American Bash in Baltimore every year?

A big old black dude comes out holding Old Glory while the National Anthem plays and people hold their dirty old baseball caps over their hearts. Oh, by the way, that big black dude should look familiar — he should, considering he's actually Sgt. Craig Pittman.

Our play-by-play duo is Tony S. and The American Dream, Duthy Rooths, the latter of whom appears to be sporting Eddie Murphy's jacket from Delirious. Rhodes says something about pulling a bird out of Scott Hall's butt and pays tribute to the recently deceased Dick Murdoch.

Opening the festivities is a tag bout between Scott Norton and Ice Train against the Steiner Brothers. And yep, even pre-blond dye job, Scott was fucking jacked to the gills on the 'roids. Scott and Ice to begin. Shit, everybody in this match is a walking Schedule III dispensary. Scott with a shoulder block, Ice with a leap frog and a bearhug, sorta, at the very end. Scott hip tosses both of 'em and Scott rides Rick like a dog because nothing says "pro rasslin'" quite like implied incestuous homosexual bestiality. Now its Scott Norton and Rick trading clotheslines and body splashes in the corner. Literally every other move in this match is a shoulder block. Rick with a belly to belly suplex, but he can only get a two. Scott Steiner gets the tag and he gets to working on Norton. Norton lands a Samoan drop and Steiner rolls to the outside. Ice is tagged in. Suplex on Steiner and there's another belly to back suplex. Train with a body splash in the corner and Scott gets a boot up on the rebound. Scott lands a belly to back of his own and clotheslines Ice. Norton gets the tag and Steiner botches a back body drop and Norton lands right on his neck. Norton with a powerslam, but Scott S. kicks out. Ice Train is in and he immediately locks Scott S. in chinlock. Norton is tagged back in. He lands a NASTY shoulder breaker but Rick breaks up the submission attempt. Norton goes for another shoulderbreaker but Rick gets tagged in and now he's cleaning house. All four men are beating the shit out of each other, then Ice and Norton double team Rick. Rick eats a powerbomb from Norton and a body splash from Ice Train. Fire and Ice set up the Doomsday Device, but Scott crotches Train on the top rope. Train recovers and hits Norton with a double axehandle smash. Rick goes up and lands the "Big Bulldog" but Ice Train breaks up that, too, then Scott lands the WORST fucking Frankensteiner in the history of existence and that's what gets 'em the three count. Eh, for a throwaway opening bout, it wasn't that bad ... in fact, it even had, dare I say it, a few glimmers of not sucking, to boot! [** 3/4]

When you blatantly rip off Tiger Mask, and then pretend the Japaheeno is actually a Mexican ...

Mean Gene is backstage with Jimmy Hart and Kevin Sullivan and Mean Gene refers to "young Chris Benoit" as "very angry." Oh, that seems like an understatement in hindsight. Holy shit, Sullivan, can't cut a promo worth a fuck. You can literally see him struggling to read the cue card and it's kinda' hilarious, actually.

The U.S. Heavyweight Title is on the line next as EL GATO takes on Konnan. In case you're wondering, El Gato is actually Pat Tanaka. See, I wanted to scoff at the announcers calling Konnan a Cuban, but one look at his Wikipedia article actually proved that to be a veracious claim, surprisingly. Yep, El Gato is a shameless, shameless ripoff of Tiger Mask, but I guess if you have to rip off one venerable Japanese gimmick, I reckon that's the one to copy. Gato with karate kicks and an armdrag. Its weird actually seeing Konnan in shape — he looks like a big, buff Homicide. A big, buff Homicide that can't hit any armdrags worth a shit. Konnan works an extended hammerlock sequence. Leapfrogs galore and El Gato superkicks Konnan. Nobody in the crowd gives a shit about this and it's just fantastic. El Gato pounds on Konnan from the crucifix mount, using the rope for leverage. Gato with a great-looking powerbomb off the ropes. Gato with another hammerlock submission. "This could uncle you!" Rhodes says. Konnan works an Indian death lock variation while you can almost hear the people pissing in the bathroom en masse. Konnan with a clotheslines and a lateral press. Just a two. Konnan gets arm dragged to the outside, then El Gato whiffs on a baseball slide. Konnan goes for a sunset powerbomb, but it is really, really slow and really, really shitty-looking. Then Konnan hits El Gato with an Alabama slam and a bridging pin and yep, that's the match. Eh, not a whole lot to this one, but it's not like it was horrible or anything like that. [** 1/4]

We're in the back with Mean Gene again. Holy shit, I forgot Sting used to have brown hair. LOL at him low-key accusing Lord Steven Regal of being a homosexual. He completely flubs his lines and Mean Gene has to save his ass on live television. Then Sting says he's going to "straighten" out Regal and Mean Gene kind of but not really apologize for saying Regal was a bit "prissy."

Up next, we've got Diamond Dallas Page doing battle with Marcus Bagwell. LOL at Page calling everybody in the crowd "Baltimore bimbos" and shitting all over Cal Ripken. DDP cheap shots Bagwell and Marcus hits Page with a jawjacker that sends him flying over the top rope. DDP eats a couple of punches and flies over the guardrail. Back in the ring and Bagwell drops DDP with a drop toehold. He follows suit with some knees to the the back. DDP with a back elbow smash and Bagwell takes him off his feet with shoulder block off the ropes. Now Bagwell is working the arm. Bagwell staggers DDP with forearm smashes, a dropkick and surprisingly decent plancha to the outside. Bagwell with another shoulder charge (or, as Tony S. calls it "a good offensive manuever") and DDP crotches him on the top rope. Page signals for the Diamond Cutter, but first he's gotta' stomp on Bagwell's ribcage and choke him a little bit. DDP with a spinning elbow smash and a gutwrench backbreaker. Just a two-count. He hits a back drop and, of course, Bagwell kicks out of that, too. DDP with an abdominal stretch. You have to see this one retard in the crowd who keeps waving like his hand his on fire. Oh, he's wearing a king's crown, too, for no discernible reason. DDP with a modified Styles Clash/flapjack, and he throws up the diamond gang sign again. Bagwell with a punch to the gut and a leg trip. Bagwell with an inverted atomic drop, a regular atomic drop and more noggin' knockers. Bagwell with a short-arm clothesline and another back elbow smash. He lands a flying clothesline from off the ring apron and feeds Page more knuckle sandwiches in the corner. You know, this is a surprisingly decent little matchup. DDP goes for a pin with his feet on the rope for leverage. DDP with a punch to the tummy and he lands the Diamond Cutter out of nowhere. And of course, Bagwell ain't kicking out of that. Well, consider me aghast — that was a perfectly fine little midcard PPV bout. Let's give it a respectable [***] and soldier forth.

You know you've really let yourself go when you reflect on your time weighing 460 pounds as your svelte days.

Mean Gene is in the back with Jimmy Hart and The Giant. Shit, when the best promo of the night comes from The Big Show, you KNOW you've got your work cut out for you.

The WCW Cruiserweight title is on the line as Rey Mysterio, Jr. makes his company debut against Dean Malenko. Oh, this shit oughta' be good. Mike Tenay is joining the announce booth because he actually knows how to call a wrestling match with actual wrestling moves. This might be the only time I've ever seen a match in which Malenko was the TALLER competitor. Both men exchange headlocks and armdrags and we have a battle of kip ups. Dean with a drop toehold and puts Mysterio in a quasi-full nelson. Rey with a spinning armdrag, back when that shit was really novel for American audiences. Rey with a springboard dropkick sending Malenko to the show floor below. Myserio with a monkey roll and Malenko slingshots Rey over the top rope (but for some reason, it doesn't constitute a DQ. Hooray for inconsistent officiating!) Malenko kicks Rey in the face fucking hard and Rey grimaces in pain. Dean slams Rey right on his hyper-extended elbow. Malenko continues to wrench the "injured" arm. Now Dean is working a shitty-looking armbar, but Mysterio makes it to the ropes. Dean kicks Rey's elbow on the guardrail. Rey with a springboard dropkick. He flips out of a hurrancanranna and Dean clotheslines the fuck out of that motherfucker. Malenko locks in another straight armbar. Man, if this were an MMA fight, Rey would've had his arm snapped in half like, five minutes ago. Dean dropkicks Rey's elbow again and now he's elbowing the shit out of Rey's arm. Now this is a psychology course, folks. LOL at the fat guy wearing the faux-tuxedo tee-shirt. Malenko is working that straight armbar again. Dean releases the hold and he hits Rey with a TREMENDOUS hammerlock over-the-shoulder suplex. But Rey kicks out. Rey botches a dropkick. Now Malenko ties Rey up in another awesome armbar variation. Oh, so THAT is why the called him the "Man of 1,000 Holds." Now Dean is doing that old Indian death lock thing. He transitions that into an STF, and he transitions that into a Romero Special, which he extends into a bridging suplex. Rey gets the ropes, though. Now Dean is working on a fucking KIMURA. Goddamn, I could watch Malenko armbar people 15 or 16 different ways all day. Malenko with a waistlock suplex, and Rey kicks out. Man, this shit is comfy as fuck. Dean with a butterfly suplex, and Rey kicks out again. Dean working yet another armbar. Now he's wrenching it with a pumphandle-like manuever. A crappy headscissors sends Dean flying through the ropes. Rey with a baseball slide and a springboard somersault off the top rope, back when that shit wasn't played out as fuck so the fans freak out. Rey with a springboard dropkick, but Dean kicks out. Malenko with powerbomb, but Rey counters into a bridging pin. Malenko kicks out. Rey with a flying headscissors off the rope, and Malenko kicks out of that! This match is fucking great. Malenko goes up top and Mysterio hits him with a Frankensteiner. Dean goes for a tilt-a-whirl, Rey counters into a pin, but it's just a two. Rey goes for a hurrancanranna, Malenko counters with a powerbomb and then he gets his feet on the ropes to secure the heel-ish pinfall. Man, that was just an outstanding match from bell-to-bell. I want to say they had at least one match that was even better than this one a few weeks later (was it the Nitro match, or maybe another PPV bout?) but as-is this thing was still balls out teriffic. Take a cue Zack Sabre and Marty Scrull, THIS is how you do a ground technician vs. high flyer match RIGHT. I've got no problem giving this one a solid [****] recommendation as we carry on our merry little way.

Time for Mean Gene to interview Lex Luger, who has two championship belts. No, don't as me which ones because I sure as shit can't remember. As far as Luger promos go, this one isn't too bad. Well, up until he mispronounces "pride" as "pide" and stands there for five seconds with his mouth open after he obviously forgets his line.

Alright, up next it's Big Bubba (the late, great Big Bossman) going toe-to-toe with John "Earthquake" Tenta, who, for some reason, doesn't get any entrance music. Well, this match is all shades of 1990, ain't it? The brawling begins before the bell even sounds. "This ain't gonna' be a pretty sight," Dusty Rhodes says. Tena tosses Bubba into the metal steps. Apparently, Bubba is a member of the Dungeon of Doom or some shit. "I don't know if he knows a thousand moves, but he knows a fist to the face," Rhodes comments on Tenta's reportoire. Then he and Tony S. argue over what to call Tenta's ass splash. Bubba clocks Tenta with a foreign object of some kind, but the referee can't find the weapon. Tenta kicks out. Holy shit, Bossman just landed an enzuigirli. Didn't expect that. Bossman with the old running ballsack to the back of the head routine. Bubba puts his feet on the ropes and the ref breaks up the pin attempt. "He's not the man of a thousand moves, but he's a man of a half-thousand pounds," Tony S. says of Earthquke. "That's pretty clever," Rhodes says with an obviously unscripted chuckle. Bubba slings Earthquake's ankles against the metal turnbuckle. Then he starts knee-dropping Tenta's knees. Bubba chokes Quake in the corner with his boot. There's Bubba with a big, fat belly-to-back plex. Bubba climbs the top rope, Tenta grabs him, powerslams and what do you know, that's what registers the three count. Bubba headbutts Jimmy Hart by accident, then Tenta clips off a part of Big Bubba's beard with a pair of scissors. Then he jumps up and down in the ring, being fat, because that's his gimmick. Well, that was ... uneventful. Let's give it a ho-hum [* 1/2] and keep on trucking.

Mean Gene is in the back with Steve "Mongo" McMichael and Kevin Greene and their respective bitches. Not going to lie, Kevin's wife looks hot as fuck. Greene says this is "goal line territory" and "he's coming hard," because he's a football player and shit. And just when you think things couldn't get anymore awesome, in saunters MACHO MAN RANDY SAVAGE to make a whole bunch of gridiron puns.

Next, we've got ourselves Chris Benoit vs. Kevin Sullivan in a falls count anywhere match. Benoit makes a B-line for Sullivan before he even gets halfway down the ramp, and the violence, it is ON. Say what you will about both of these motherfuckers, but when they threw punche, they LOOKED like they were trying to kill each other. We've got some brawling in the crowds. Benoit makes Sullivan eat chair and The Taskmaster pokes Chris in the eyes. Benoit with headbutts galore and Sullivan screams "is that all you've got, punk?" and pops Benoit right in the face and it's great. Now they're beating the shit out of each other in the bathroom. Sullivan slams a stall door on Benoit's head and a whole bunch of black dudes start freaking out while this fat white dude in a suit tries to hold them back. Sullivan with another eyepoke, then he tries to give Benoit a swirly. "That would've been a smelly situation right there," Rhodes comments. LOL at Dusty freaking out over a woman being in the men's room. Seriously, that commentary alone makes this one of the greatest WCW matches of the decade. Now Sullivan's is trying to throw Benoit down a laundry chute. Then he smacks Benoit over the head with a sack of toilet paper. And that shit looked like it was two-ply, so you know it had to hurt worse than that Charmin shit. Benoit conks Sullivan over the head with a plastic garbage can and Sullivan sells it like a gunshot wound. More fisticuffs ensue and both men begin making their way down the stairwell back to the ring. Sullivan rolls Benoit down the stairs like a barrel in Donkey Kong. Repeatedly. "Well, that's one way to get him down," Dusty remarks. Shit, Benoit looked so young back then. Like, he looked like he was barely 21. Sullivan clobbers Benoit with a metal chair and Benoit drops Sullivan balls first on the guardrail. Benoit looks for plunder underneath the ring and swings Sullivan back into the guardrail. Now Benoit's got a table. He throws it into Kevin's face and now it's time for more chops. Benoit sets up the table in the corner and Sullivan slams his big fat belly into it but it doesn't break. Benoit sets the table up on the turnbuckle and Sullivan back drops him on the table. He climbs up the turnbuckle and Benoit lands a superplex and that gets him the pin. Post-match he slaps Sullivan around until Arn Anderson runs to the ring at three miles a week and then he and Benoit take turns stomping Kevin like a bag of flaming dog doo. Here comes the Dungeon of Doom to make the save, and Arn and Benoit just casually roll out of the ring like it wasn't no thing. A lot of people consider this one of the best brawls in WCW history (with some even considering it one of the best WCW matches of the 1990s), but to be honest fam, I've always thought this one was just *mildly* overrated. Don't get me wrong, it's a fun and wild brawl, for sure, but it's far from matching the lofty heights of the Nasty Boys/Jack and Payne donnybrook from Spring Stampede '94. It's fun as shit, without question, but you'd have to be plum goofy to think it's anything more than a overachieving garbage match. Still, I give it a very, very respectable [*** 3/4], and that's our cue to keep on keepin' on.

Fun fact: those action figures literally doubles as vibrators.

Backstage, Mean Gene is with Arn, Flair, Benoit, Woman and Miss Elizabeth. Shit, that's a lot of dead people. Arn cuts a great promo about how how awesome the Four Horsemen are and how the Dungeon of Doom are a bunch of no-good sons-of-bitches and Benoit cuts a promo that is, uh, not that good, honestly. Then Flair and Heenan take the mic, and, as expected, it's fucking' beautiful and you need to hear it ... especially the part where Flair subtly suggests Macho Man has erectile dysfunction. No, for real.

Lord Steven Regal is out, along with Sir William (wearing a powdered wig, naturally.) Sting gets a HUGE pop as he strolls to the ring. Huh ... earlier in the night, he accused Regal of being gay, but here *he* is wearing a rainbow scorpion on his britches. Uh, projection much, Stinger? Sting back body drops Regal on the floor and Regal responds with some European uppercuts and some knee drops to the noggin. The fans chant "U-S-A" and holy shit, did I never think I'd miss hearing that in a pro wrestling match. Way to fuck up American's greatest art form, SJWs. Regal rolls to the outside to jaw with fat fans in Hawaiian shirts. Regal shakes like a bitch every time Sting threatens to come after him. Regal with a single leg takedown and he shoves his knee into Sting's face. Time for a test of strength. Sting, of course, wins. Regal ripostes with a cobra clutch and a MEAN elbow to the face. Regal with a hammerlock. Sting lands a sunset flip but Regal kicks out. He goes back to a half nelson and socks Sting in the chin a couple of times for good measure. Regal dropkicks Sting and goes back to elbowing that motherfucker in the skull. Regal's still working the arm. Holy shit, I am DIGGING that ref's sweet mullet. Regal uses the rope for some leverage on an armbar. Sting locks in an abdominal stretch and Regal slugs him with a left hook. Regal with a pair of headscissors and an armbar. So yeah, Regal back in the day was pretty much Zach Sabre Jr, except his shit actually looked believable. Regal with a kick to the gut and some eye gouges. He locks in an inverted full nelson, Sting escapes and hits him with a dropkick and a flurry of clotheslines. Sting goes up top and Regal hits him with a shitty-looking butterfly suplex. TIME FOR THE REGAL STRETCH, ASSHOLES. For some reason, he lets Sting out of it and Sting starts punching the SHIT out of the Brit in the corner. Sting goes for the Stinger Splash, but Regal gets his knees up. Still, Sting shakes it off and locks in the Scorpion Deathlock out of nowhere and the fans go CRAZY as Regal verbally submits. Shit, did Regal ever have anything *less* than a three-snowflake affair during his WCW tenure? Both men, clearly, have had better matches, but still, that was really, really good stuff. I'd feel comfortable giving it a solid [*** 1/4], and this video cassette, it doth continue.

Michael Buffer is out to introduce Ric Flair and Arn Anderson for their "legends of wrestling versus legends of football" match against Mongo and Kevin Greene. Holy shit, is Mongo and Greene's introduction cringey as fuck, with Debra and Woman carrying DOGS with them and acting like cheerleaders and their music being this lame ass country song. In fact, they don't even get a pop until the Macho Man comes out. Greene is wearing a shirt calling him "a sack machine," which makes me think of a machine that literally makes sacks because I guess we're all kinda' autistic these days. Looks like it's going to be McMichael vs. Anderson to begin. Arn shoves McMichael into the ring post and they trade arm drags. Holy shit, you have GOT to see Greene's rat-tail. Just goddamn. Mongo tackles Arn from the three-point stance and Macho Man hops on the apron to tell Mongo what to do next. Boy, this match is slow and choppy as hell. But LOL at Arn tricking Mongo into a drop toehold on another tackle-off. Mongo, to be fair, has a pretty decen shoulder tackle off the top rope. Another collar and elbow tie-up and then Greene enters the fray to help Mongo stop the shit out of Arn. And Macho gets a free shot on the outside, because that's OBVIOUSLY what good guys do is sucker punch niggas. Greene gets tagged in and so does Ric Flair. Flair kicks Greene in the head and everybody cheers because Flair is still Flair, damn it. Greene with some mean looking shoulder tackles and then he does the Fargo Strut. Flair tries to run back to the locker room but Macho Man chases him down and throws him back into th ring. Greene with a huge back body drop and another shoulder tackle. Goddamn, that fucker did have some great looking charges. Flair keeps running into Mongo and falling down. Flair with some chops in the corner and Mongo no sells all of 'em. Mongo with some chops of his own and a hip toss. OK, this thing is way more fun than it has any right to be. Flair goes up top and, of course, Mongo launches him off like a rocket. Mongo locks in a figure four on Flair and Greene locks in a Figure Four on Greene. But woman claws Mongo's eyes, allowing the heels to escape. Arn hits Mongo with a DEMONIC DDT and he starts kneeing that motherfucker in the head and stomping him like ker-razy. Flair continues to chop Mongo and Arn gets some free stomps on the floor. Then Bobby the Brain kicks Mongo when he's down, then Mongo blatantly chokes Flair and Flair responds by hitting Mongo right in the balls. Arn gets the tag and Anderson stomps Mongo's gut. Arn with a double axe-handle smash and Flair helps him with a double suplex. Greene bumps Anderson off the dog pile and Mongo kicks out of the Flair pin attempt. Mongo clotheslines Flair and Anderson gets tagged in. Mongo throws the Horsemen into each other and Greene finally gets the hot tag. He starts body slamming everybody and powerslams Flair. Flair does his patented turnbuckle bump and Mongo makes him eat a big boot on the apron. Greene with a suplex and Arn Anderson clips Greene's knee. This match is WAY better than I would've anticipated. Arn gets tagged in and he goes for the figure four. Greene struggles to tag in Mongo, but Flair gets tagged in and stops him. Flair goes for the figure four, but Greene almost gets the pin with a roll-up. Flair with a knee-breaker and he finally gets the figure four applied. Arn gets into it with Macho Man, then Chris Benoit comes out to beat the shit out of Savage. Then Deborah McMichael, Woman and Miss Elizabeth come back to the ring to give Mongo a Four Horsemen tee-shirt and a whole bunch of money. Then he conks Greene over the head with the suitcase, allowing Flair to pick up the pin. Now it's time for a good old fashioned Four Horsemen beatdown on the Macho Man. Yep, that means Mongo is officially the fourth Four Horseman. "This is STOOPID" Dusty Rhodes says. Oh fuck, I just noticed that Flair was wearing green and yellow ... the same color of the Packers. Now that's attention to detail, Holmes. All in all, that was surprisingly fun — I'd consider it a shockingly
solid [***] opus, personally, and from there, we throw it to one Eric Bischoff.

Bischoff calls out Scott Hall and Kevin Nash ... without using their names, of course ... and he tells Diesel and Razor if they want a match in a WCW ring, they'll get one — at Bash at the Beach 1996. Bischoff bluntly asks Razor and Diesel if they're working for the WWF, but Hall says he, Diesel and "their surprise buddy" are going to "carve up" whoever they put in the ring against them. Then Diesel powerbombs Bischoff through a ramp-side table and it makes the audience gasp, like, for real. That shit was set up nearly perfectly. Tony S. and Dusty Rhodes act legitimately shocked and even now, it feels astonishingly real. I can only imagine how much marks were freaking out over this shit when it happened live — it must've been mind-blowing, for sure.

Time for the main event. It's Lex Luger (with awesome music) vs. The Giant (with Jimmy Hart, but not any heat.) Michael Buffer let us know it is indeed time to rumble, and the World Heavyweight Championship contest is ON. The Giant hits Lex with a big boot out the gate, and then Luger clotheslines the Giant over the top rope. The Giant gorilla press slams Luger back into the ring and Luger hits the Giant with a barrage of forearm shots. Luger jumps on the Giant's back and tries to lock in a sleeperhold of sorts. Jimmy Hart threatens to smack Lex with his megaphone, but Sting takes it away from him and chases him to the back. Luger is hung in the tree of woe and The Giant stomps the shit out of him. Give Luger some dap, he is selling the Giant's strikes like they are pure, unadulterated murder. The Giant hits Luger with a clubbing blow to the back and a foot choke in the corner. The Giant with a backbreaker and an over-the-shoulder Torture Rack variation. The Giant stretches Luger's arms with his knee digging into Lex's back and Luger stuns him with an Ace Crusher. Luger goes for a body slam, but the Giant falls on him. The Giant goes for a quick pin, but Luger gets his foot on the rope. The Giant with more stomps. He sets Lex on the top rope and kicks him a couple of times. This has been a glorified squash match the whole way through. Luger with a shitty looking springboard dropkick and a series of clotheslines. Luger clips the Giant's knees and I laugh at the Giant's butt cheeks hanging out of his unitard. The Giant crashes and burns on a corner splash and Luger kicks the fuck out of the Giant and gets him in the Torture Rack ... only to collapse under the Giant's tremendous girth. The Giant signals for the Choke Slam. He lands it. One, two, three, and the Giant retains the belt. And rather anticlimactically ... that's how the show ends, kids.

Just so you'd know — I'd love to have Kevin Greene's wife sit on my face and recite the Constitution in its entirety.

The main event was pretty much a blowout [** 1/4] at best affair, but at least it had an air of realism to it that most modern day wrestling matches are all but devoid of. You would never see modern day WWE or New Japan pull this kind of shit, asking people to pay $29.99 to watch one of the most beloved faces in the company get wrecked by a monster heel the crowd honestly doesn't give a shit about. Not that I'm saying such is a bad thing, per se, but certainly something that shows you just how much brand management has changed over the last 22 years. 

On the whole, I would consider it a pretty solid show. Like a lot of WCW PPVs from the epoch, there wasn't anything on the card I'd consider a MOTY contender, but the stuff that was there certainly trended north of above average to very, very good. The Malenko/Mysterio match was easily the MOTN, and the Benoit/Sullivan brawl — while vastly overrated by the IWC — is still a pretty fun spectacle, and something that's probably worth going out of your way to check out at least once. Beyond that, I wouldn't say there was anything on the show truly underwhelming, save perhaps that one Earthquake/Bossman bout that, even in 1996, felt painfully passe.

Of course, the big takeaway from the PPV was its setup for Bash at the Beach, and if you don't what happened there by now ... well, you probably shouldn't be reading anything WCW-related on the Webz, homie. I had totally forgotten how great the Bischoff/Outsiders encounter was, and the way the announcers (and even Lex Luger, who even sold how distraught he was over his boss eating a table) handled it was downright stellar. For a company that just a few months ago was trying to convince its audience that a wrestler could survive being thrown off the roof of Cabo Hall, they definitely did their part to make the Hall and Nash tomfoolery feel totally believable, and today's bookers and writers definitely need to revisit the shit to see how to do an "invasion" angle right.

Granted, it's nowhere close to being the best WCW PPV of the year, but for what it's worth it is pretty entertaining and you won't get bored at any point in the three-hour shindig. Naturally, you'll get more mileage out of the experience if you grew up watching this shit, but even without the blinders of nostalgia it's still an enjoyable outing for old school pro wrestling fans of all stripes.

There are worse ways to start your summer, folks — and with an event poster like this, how the fuck else would you prefer to kick off the seasonal festivities?

Sunday, April 1, 2018

Revisiting WCW Spring Stampede 1994!

Taking a look back at one of the greatest pro wrestling pay-per-views of all-time - from Cactus Jack getting concussed with a snow shovel to Flair and Steamboat putting on an unsung classic to AARON GODDAMN NEVILLE, this show has it all!


 By: Jimbo X
JimboXAmerican@gmail.com
@JimboX

 Well, it's WrestleMania week, which means Internet Law requires me to publish at least one rasslin' related article. Sure, it would be extremely easy (and lazy as a motherfucker) to just pick a random WM from years gone by and give it the old play-by-play treatment, but that's way too predictable. In fact, we being the supreme outside-the-box-thinkers we are, we here at The Internet Is In America has decided to celebrate the biggest WWE spectacle of the year by turning our attention to their old arch-rival ... and what may very well be the single greatest pay-per-view event they ever produced.

 Mid-1993 to mid-1994 WCW has always been "peak WCW" in my eyes. Indeed, the run from Beach Blast '93 to Bash at the Beach '94 might just be the best one year run any North American rasslin' promotion had in the 1990s, if we're talking about sheer in-ring product. From the time Ric Flair returned to the company to the moment Hulk Hogan entered the fray, just about every WCW PPV was AAA material, and for my money, no WCW PPV represents the greatness of the epoch more than Spring Stampede '94.

 Simply put, this shindig from the Rosemont Horizon in Chicago-Town has it goddamn all. We've got Brian Pillman and Steve Regal putting on an awesome-as-usual TV title technical showcase. We've got Dustin Rhodes and some dude who looks like a child molester making each other bleed buckets in a Bunkhouse Brawl. We've got Cactus Jack, Man Mountain Rock and the fuckin' Nasty Boys putting on one of the single greatest garbage matches in the history of any promotion ever. We've got Big Van Vader and the Big Boss Man just fucking whaling on each other in an outstanding flab-fest. And for the main course? Oh, nothing major ... just Ric Flair taking on mother-fuckin' god-damn RICKY STEAMBOAT in a 30-minute-plus war of attrition for the World Heavyweight Championship.

 Yeah ... you don't need me to tell you this thing's going to be great, do you? Well, how about we cut out the jibber-jabber, fire up our old Turner Home Video copy of the show and take a trip down memory lane, why don't we?

We begin the program with Mean Gene Okerlund saying the Chicago crowd is "hanging from the rafters," which is probably untrue because that's almost assuredly a safety code violation. Here to sing the national anthem (of the U.S., duh) is AARON GODDAMN NEVILLE, who is rocking a leopard print vest, a ton of gold, a giant assed birthmark over his right eye and some fucking HUGE beefy biceps, thus looking more like an actual wrestler than 95 percent of the current WWE roster.

 Pulling commentary duties tonight is Tony Schiavone and Bobby Heenan. Proving Chicago, once and for all, is a collection of classless assholes, these motherfuckers have the audacity to boo The Brain. Well, fuck them.

 Our first match of the evening is Johnny B. Badd (dressed like Cowboy Curtis from Pee Wee's Playhouse, for some reason) taking on Diamond Dallas Page, back when he was more fat than muscle and still couldn't read. You know, Johnny B. Badd has to be the single blackest-looking white dude in the history of melanin. DDP gets clotheslined out of the ring early. DDP hits his foe with a great looking back body suplex and locks in a crossface. Badd counters it into a wristlock. DDP escapes but Badd hits him with a series of arm drags and you can audibily hear Page say "god damn it" on camera. DDP locks in a guillotine, but Badd bridges out of it and hits a fucking BOSS looking modified Ace Crusher, but it's only good for a two count. DDP with elbows in the corner, followed by a belly-to-back suplex. DDP with a gutwrench suplex into a gutbuster. Man, Page had some pretty good looking suplexes back in the day. Page tries to crush Badd's head with a neck wrench.  Man, Kimberly Page sure was flatter than I remember. Badd rolls out of the way and drops DDP with an inverted drop and a clotheslines. There's a back body drop and a pair of flying headscissors. A discus punch sends Page reeling to the outside - where Badd splashes him with, of all things, a fucking' plancha. Badd goes up top and lands a sunset flip on the follow-through for the fairly anticlimactic three-count.  

 Well, all in all, that wasn't too bad. Both guys showed off some pretty inventive moves, and the fact that WCW actually had Badd coming out to a ripoff of  The Dukes of Hazzard theme song for a while makes me all kinds of happy. Not great by any stretch, but still a decent enough  [** 1/2] opener. (Oh, and a reminder - unlike that closeted homosexual Dave Meltzer, we here at The Internet Is In America actually has a scientific rubric to explain our star ratings, which you can evaluate anytime you want right here.)

 Mean Gene Okerlun is with Jesse "The Body" Ventura, and goddamn, does he look ridiculous with that chrome dome and ponytail. Holy shit, I totally forgot that even back in 1994 WCW had Michael Buffer doing announcement gigs. Anyhoo, up next, we've got Lord Steven Regal (with Sir William) taking on Brian Pillman in a TV Championship match. Fuck, how long DID Regal have the TV title? It seems like everytime I watch a WCW PPV from 1993 to 1995, he's the perma-television-title holder. Anyway, we've got a 15-minute time limit to work with here, so be ready to pace yourself. Pillman goes after Regal early, and Pillman slaps the taste out of the Limey's mouth and we all cheer. Regal reels to the outside following an arm drag. When Pillman pursues him on the outside, Regal Pearl Harbors  ... uh, Boston Massacres him, I guess would be the better historical analogy? Back in the ring and Pillman takes Regal down with an armdrag. Then he starts slamming his arm against the metal ring post a couple of times. Pillman with some NASTY chops in the corner, to which Regal responds with an equally nasty looking European uppercut. Regal wrenches the arm and Pillman keeps slapping him. Pillman goes for a Lou Thesz press and Regal counters it with a NASTY bridging suplex.  Man, Regal is getting all kinds of heat from this Chicago audience. Regal looks like he's going for a powerbomb, of all things, but Pillman uses the ring ropes to counter it into a school boy. Regal kicks out and does a leg whip into a SICK STF variation. Regal with more European uppercuts. Pillman goes for a backslide, but Regal counters it into a muffler/crossbow stretch. Shit, that looks painful. Pillman escapes and breaks out the slaps again. Regal goes for a gutwrench powerbomb, but Pullman counters it with a hurrancanranna (but not before he conks HIMSELF on the top of the head in the process.) Regal does his patented "Regal roll" into an abdominal stretch on the ground. Now Regal's working a modified crossbow submission. Goddamn this stuff is great. Pillman gets out by absolutely CLOBBERING Regal with stiff punches, then Regal says "fuck you" and locks Brian in a single leg crab. And there's the Indian death lock. Shit, Steven Regal fucking rules. Five minutes to go until the bell sounds. Pillman back to his feet, and he drops Regal with a knife-edge chop. Regal uses a half nelson to keep Pillman grounded. More Pillman slaps. Regal fires back with some vicious elbows and a "desperation headbutt." Heenan advises Regal "pull Pillman's hair until it's straight." Pillman lands a dropkick and both men take a while to get back to their feet. Regal looks for a Boston crab but Pillman flips him over. And there's Pillman with the enziguri. Pillman goes for a monkey flip, Regal misses the fist drop and Pillman drop kicks him with a minute left. Pillman with a backbody drop and punches in bunches in the corner. Regal catches Pillman in a bear hug, they tumble over the top rope, Sir William takes a swing at Brian, and both men make it back into the ring right at zero. So yep - that means we've got ourselves a good old fashioned 15-minute draw, kiddos. 

 Yeah, the ending was kinda' bullshitty and there were some botches here and there, but for the most part, that shit was entertaining as fuck. You really wouldn't expect the styles of Pillman and Regal to gel so well, but they actually put together a solid little, ground-based technical showcase there, complete with some of the stiffest striking you'll probably see in WCW outside of a Vader match. World-changing, it might not be, but I still had a hoot with this one. Let's give it a very, very solid [*** 1/2] and carry on our merry way, why don't we?
Of course, allowing another dude to smash him in the face for real with a snow shovel isn't even in the top ten list of stupid/dangerous/awesome things Mick Foley has let people do to him for money...

Up next, we've got a falls-count-anywhere "Chicago streetfight" between The Nasty Boys and the team of Cactus Jack and Maxx Payne (a.k.a., fuckin' Man Mountain Rock.) OK, I vividly remember this one from like three or four different compilation DVDs. LOL at Payne hailing "from a State of Euphoria" and Cactus literally wearing a tee-shirt reading "Superdad" to the brawl. Unsurprisingly, the Nastys go after Cactus and Payne before they even make it down the entrance ramp, and the carnage, it is ON. Payne spine busts Jerry Sags while Brian Knobbs goes after Cactus with a sawed-off pool cue. Oh shit, now Cactus has it and its time for Knobbs to chew lumber. Jack sends Knobbs over the top rope with the fattest clothesline you've ever seen in your life. Meanwhile, Sags beats the shit out of Payne with a metal folding chair. Fuck, this feels so comfy. Now Cactus has the chair and he's whaling on Knobbs. Payne hits an elbow drop on Sags. Repeatedly. Knobbs clotheslines Cactus INTO the ring. He's still bonking him with the pool cue. Sags does a one foot plancha off the guardrail onto Payne. Heenan makes a joke about Aaron Neville, which FINALLY makes sense in context now. Cactus and Sags are still going at it. Payne throws Knobbs into a souvenir stand and Knobbs clobbers him with a plastic garbage can and throws a table on top of him. We go split-screen so we can watch Cactus bite Jerry's face in the ring. Cactus goddamn WAFFLES Sags with a chair and Heenan makes ANOTHER joke about Aaron Neville. Payne grabs Knobbs and body slams him through a whole bunch of WCW merchandise. Then he tries to cram a Sting tee-shirt down Knobbs' throats, because goddamn it, back in the '90s the wrestling business knew how to do violence RIGHT. Now Knobbs is using the metal fragments of the table to beat up Payne, as Cactus gets launched over the guardrail like a 300-pound cruise missile that votes Democrat. The merchandise stand is absolutely destroyed at this point. Now Sags is bashing Payne OVER THE HEAD with a table and it makes the most satisfying "PLONK!" sound every time the balsa wood connects with skull. Cactus see-saws a table on top of Sags before setting it up on the ramp way. But LOL, here comes Knobbs with a fucking snow shovel to El Kabong him. Now Payne grabs it and fucking wrecks him with it. Then Cactus tries to piledrive Knobbs on the table but since combined they weigh about 600 pounds physics says "nah, fuck this shit" and the thing disintegrates underneath them. Knobbs back body drops Cactus off the ramp (that's a good six or seven foot fall, by the way) and Knobbs picks up the snow shovel and literally launches it at Cactus' carcass like a lawn dart. And to capstone all this mayhem, Knobbs picks up the snow shovel like the Sword of Damocles and fucking SMASHES Cactus in the face with it one more time before scooping up the 1,2,3. And because this match isn't awesome enough already, Sacks picks up the broken table, gets a running start and El Kabongs Payne ONE more time after the bell, just 'cause.

 Shit, that match was INCREDIBLE. That has to be the most insane pre-ECW brawling the Big Two put on in the 1990s, and even now it's one of the greatest PLANNED train wrecks in the history of 'rasslin. The whole thing barely went ten minutes and these four fuckers didn't waste a second cramming as much over-the-top violence in there as the could. This stuff was super-entertaining in 1994, just as awe-inspiring in 2004, every bit as fun in 2014 and I'm pretty sure it's going to STILL hold up come 2024, 2034 and 2044, too. Yeah, it's hardly anything more than a glorified garbage bout, but it's easily one of the greatest garbage bouts ever. Call me crazy, but I think this is - from start to finish, every nanosecond in-between accounted for - one of the best WCW matches of the 1990s. Hell, maybe even top ten, pending I ever get around to rewatching a whole bunch of shit from the early '90s someday. I'd feel VERY comfortable giving that last one a stellar [**** 3/4] rating, and I'm not even being ironic about it, either.

 Next up, we've got a bout with the United States title on the line. Out first is the challenger, THE GREAT MUTA, who comes out wearing  gaudy red sequin robe. And his adversary is the reigning, defending champion, STUNNING STEVE AUSTIN, accompanied to the ring by Col. Rob Parker (get it, because Elvis' manager was named Col. TOM Parker?) Shit, Austin's music was awesome. Of course, he still has hair at this point. LOL at Bobby Heenan talking shit about the Japanese owning Radio City Music Hall and "three quarters" of the rest of the country. Muta does some spin kicks and The Brain is gobsmacked by how big the Japanese grappler is. Muta with a headlock takedown. And there's the clean break. Austin with some hard right hands and a leap frog, but Muta counters with an abdominal stretch. The fans keep chanting for "Muta," which is pretty rare for a WCW crowd in the mid 1990s. I mean, shit, shouldn't they be screaming "U-S-A!" at the top of their lungs by now? Muta with a suplex and another headlock takedown. Austin with a backdrop and Muta counters it into a suplex. Now Bobby is saying Aaron Neville lip-synched the national anthem. Muta still has Austin in a side headlock. Muta with a shoulderblock, Austin leapfrogs and Muta hits him with a dropkick. Austin counters with a headscissors submission - which looks for all the tea in China that he's making Muta suck his dick on live television. Austin breaks the hold and rolls to the outside, where Col. Rob fans him with his slave owner hat. He grabs the tights on a school boy (I didn't know Steve was Catholic!) but Muta counters with a wristlock. Now Aaron Neville is sitting beside Bobby the Brain. Heenan, of course, acts like he's the best singer in history now that he's within earshot. Parker takes a couple of free shots at Muta after Austin dumps him to the outside. It looks like Muta's face is busted up, but since he's wearing red face paint, it's really hard to tell. Austin with a running elbow off the apron, then he makes Muta eat guardrail. LOL at Tony S. bringing up "winning Battle Bowl" as one of Muta's greatest accomplishments. Schiavone says the owner of the Blackhawks is in the house tonight. That's our cue for an extended abdominal stretch sequence. Heenan says the move doesn't look too impressive on TV, but he assures the audience it still hurts like the dickens IRL. Muta finally gets a rope break, but he whiffs on a dropkick. There's Austin with a fist drop off the middle turnbuckle. Then he chokes Muta on the ropes with his boot. Heenan makes a crack about Hillary Clinton as Muta drops Austin with a spin kick. Muta with a suplex and a standing dropkick. He goes up top and, of course, Austin dodges the attack. Austin goes for "The Hollywood and Vine," this really shitty look toe-hold, which Muta easily escapes from. Then Muta STUN GUNS Austin! Steve scrambles to a neutral corner and Muta hits him with his famous cartwheel elbow smash. Muta puts Austin on the top rope and almost breaks his own neck sticking the hurrancanrana. The crowd goes wild after Muta slugs Parker, but OOPS! He accidentally back body drops Austin over the top rope, so Muta gets disqualified. Still, that doesn't stop him from hitting a slingshot plancha on both of 'em just for the hell of it immediately after the DQ verdict is announced.

 Well, that was a bit of a letdown. The hot crowd kept it interesting, buy by and large it just felt like both Austin and Muta were going through the motions. Far from being a bad match, I'd just say it was rather unremarkable, all things considered - let's give it [** 1/4] and keep chugging along.

 The "International World Title" is on the line as Sting does battle with Rick Rude. Obviously, "The Man Called Sting" gets a huge pop from the crowd. And Rude gets booed, but goddamn, how anybody could boo entrance music THIS tremendous is simply beyond me. Of course, Rude immediately demands his music be cut so he can make fun of the crowd for being fat white trash, but he's interrupted by Harley Race. He says he's here on behalf of Vader and it doesn't matter who wins, his man's gonna' kick his ass regardless. This leads to Sting - rather unheroically - clobbering Race out of the blue and back body dropping Rude over the top rope. Rude begs for mercy and Sting - in these bad ass black and white pants - mercilessly pummels him anyway. Sting gets a two on a suplex. Nick Bockwinkel joins the announce team, even though he literally doesn't say a goddamn word. Sting with a headlock from the north-south position. Sting with a standing scoop slam and an elbow drop on the rebound. Two of them, actually. OK, make it three, just 'cause he's a fuckin' showboat. Sting goes back to the north-south choke. LOL at Heenan saying Sting has a Bart Simpson hairdo, because it's literally fuckin' true. Sting still working the neck crank. Rude crotches Sting on the top rope and clothelines him to the floor before. But it's not a disqualification, because like WCW ever gave a fuck about providing a logically consistent product. Rude slams Sting's head on the ramp and tosses him back into the ring. Fuck, Rude had some great punches. And his hairy, ripped abs are just so manly - not that I'm gay or anything like that. Uh, no homo. Now Rude is shaking is dick at the audience, because that's what real men do, damn it. Rude works a camel clutch. Sting goes for an electric chair drop and Rude counters it into a roll, but then Sting counters THAT into a roll, but he only gets two. Rude back on the offensive. Now he has Sting in a standing sleeper. The ref starts doing the old "I'm going to raise your arm three times" chestnut but Rude actually breaks the hold before the third drop. Apparently, he wants to beat Sting standing. He feeds Sting a couple of forearm shots but then Sting starts to, uh, Sting up? Sting lands an inverted atomic drop, then he botches a regular atomic drop. Clothelines galore. Rude lands really iffy on his leg on a backbody drop, and an errant Stinger Splash wipes out the ref. Still, the official being incapicated doesn't prevent the Stinger from locking Rude in the Scorpion Death Lock. Harley Race tries to interfere but Sting whups his ass. Then Vader comes out and Sting kicks his ass, but it allows Rude to clip Sting's knee like a no-good sonofabitch and then Race comes in with a chair and accidentally El Kabongs Rude, allowing Sting to pick up an easy 1,2,3 to win the International Title. 

 Not the best match these two have had, but it was pretty entertaining for what it was ... and wasn't. The screwball finish took forever to come to fruition, though, so I reckon that's worth detracting a quarter star. Still, it's better than average fare - let's give it an admirable [** 3/4] and keep chugging along.
Shit ... with guns like those, Aaron Neville would be one of the most swoll wrestlers in the WWE today.

Now it's time for Dustin Rhodes vs. Bunkhouse Bunk in a Bunkhouse Match - which I suppose makes more sense than having them fight in a "Dustin Rhodes Match." Bunkhouse Buck, by the way, is Jimmy Golden, and to his credit, he literally looks like a dirty scummy chi-mo IRL, so props to him for playing the gimmick to its fullest. Also, because he's managed by Col. Rob Parker, the keep showing this one guy in the audience holding a bucket of KFC chicken and  - surprise - he's actually white. Dustin Rhodes makes a bee line for Bunk, literally flying over the top rope to give that motherfucker a clothesline before the bell even sounds. Now it's time for some heavy duty punches. Both guys are wearing blue jeans and cowboy boots, by the way. Also - I have no goddamn clue what a "bunkhouse" is, so don't even bother asking. Oh, and they also have their fists taped and one coal-miner's glove on the hand of their choosing. LOL at Rhodes wearing a tee-shirt that just says "Texas." Rhodes pokes Bunk in the eyes but he crashes and burns on a flying crossbody. Col. Rob chokes him on the outside, then Bunk clobbers his ass with one-by-two, which is a lot like a two-by-four, except, uh, only half as much. Rhodes does a full 360 rotation on a Buck clothesline. Then he chokes that honky motherfucker like a motherfucker. Rhodes takes a wild swing and falls down, allowing Buck to stomp the dog shit out of Rhodes with his cowboy boots. Oh shit, Rhodes is bleeding buckets. Huh - the more I look at Buck, the more he kinda' reminds me of Kenny Omega. Shit, he COULD be his dad, for all we know. Rhodes kicks Buck in the face a few times and falls back down. He reaches into his britches and pulls out a white piece of paper. Heenan wonders if it's his will. Nope, it's that good old fashioned "white powder," because apparently it's impossible to make "baby powder" sound threatening as a weapon. Buck pulls off his belt and starts lashing Rhodes like a runaway slave and Bobby makes a funny about how if Dusty had beat the shit out of his kid when he was younger, he probably wouldn't be in this mess. And there's Bunk with the old "kick to the cojones" chestnut. Man, this stuff is just grimy as fuck. Buck punts Dustin in the stomach. Repeatedly. Buck gets stuck on the top turnbuckle and that's our cue for Dustin to punt the shit out of that asshole. And there's the elbow smash to the noggin. Rhodes pulls off his belt and he clobbers Buck something wicked. Rhodes takes his cowboy boot off, climbs the top rope and hits Buck right in the middle of the forehead with it. Uh, wouldn't it have been easier ... and more effective ... to just jump on his head like Low-Ki or something? Rhodes rips Buck's shirt off and starts whipping Buck like Kunta Kinte. And there's another clothesline over the top rope. Now Buck is bleeding like a stuck pig. Heenan keeps talking about how much he likes "this brand of wrestling." Buck has a foreign object of some kind. He misses swinging it and Rhodes climbs the turnbuckle and elbows Buck in the head ten times, shakes his dick in his face, clotheslines him in the adjacent corner and bulldogs that fucker right out of his shoes. Parker interferes and Rhodes suplexes him into the ring and starts whipping him. Buck sneaks up behind Dustin for a schoolboy (just like Michael Jackson would!) but he only gets a two. Rhodes and Buck have a GREAT brawl in the middle of the ring and Dustin puts Buck down with another elbow smash. Parker gives Dustin a pair of brass knuckles, and of course, he clocks Rhodes right on the kisser to score the easy pinfall.

 Well, that was some glorious sleaze right there, wasn't it? There are better all out brawls to be found from WCW - hell, including the Jack/Payne vs. Nastys donnybrook from earlier in the show - but this is still an immensely fun little bloodbath. It's *probably* one of the top 20 matches of Rhodes career and easily the best one of Bunkhouse Buck's career. Hell, come to think of it, I'm not sure I've seen *any* other Bunkhouse Buck match, the more I think about it. Let's call it a solid [****] and soldier forth.

 Jesse Ventura is in the locker room with Rick Rude and he still looks goddamn ridiculous with that skullet-ponytail combination. Rude and Vader get into a shoving match and the Nastys have to break it up and we come THIS close to seeing Jerry Sags' testicles on live television. 

 Up next, it's THE BOSS vs. VADER. And yes, "The Boss" is indeed THE BIG BOSS MAN. I'm pretty sure this is close to being the last match he wrestled under with that moniker, since the WWF was REALLY anxious to file copyright infringement suits back then. Anyhoo, this is billed as a "Gigantic Grudge Match," because why not? Vader, of course, fucking rules as always, so I've nothing to add to that, I suppose. Harley Race holds up the Boss and Vader goes to splash him on the ramp and, of course, the Boss ducks and Vader creams his own manager. The Boss (in a snazzy all black uniform) clotheslines Vader into the ring and he big  boots Vader back OUT of the ring because this is all about getting as much man meat and flubber flying around as possible. They brawl on the ramp some more and Vader drops the Boss with a hard jab. Then he slams Boss back into the ring. He takes a running start, jumps over the top rope and the Boss gets his knees up on the attempted splash. The Boss lands a couple of elbow drops and he clotheslines Vader to the outside again. Vader takes a WILD bump over the guardrail into the front row of fans. Then the Boss drops Vader on the rail, throat first. Man, WCW NEVER let anybody fuck up Vader this bad. It's hard to believe the company wanted to push the Boss Man THAT much, huh? The Boss with a headbutt, then he slings Vader into the turnbuckle post. Boss goes for a body slam and he gets it. LOL at Tony S. saying Vader weighs 450 pounds. Then they have an AWESOME slug fest. Goddamn, Vader had some brutal looking punches. The Boss takes a fucked up backdrop to the outside. Vader is bleeding heavily from his eye. God damn it, Schiavone is STILL talking about Aaron Neville. Vader suplexes the Boss back into the ring. VADER SPLASH, YOU MOTHER OF FUCKERS. Vader with more clubbing blows in the corner. Good, his jabs were the tits. Boss starts punching back and he connects on a sidewalk slam. The Boss lands a clothesline and Vader gets a boot to the face, followed by a fucking GRISLY lariat. Vader's eye looks like something out of a horror movie at this point. Boss launches Vader off the top rope and goes for a superplex. He botches it into a DDT then he climbs up the top rope hisself. He tries to clothesline him but he hooks it into a weird, shitty looking DDT at the very end. He goes up top again and this time Vader converts it into a power slam. Fuck, this match rules. VADER SPLASH, BUT THE BOSS KICKS OUT. Vader goes to the well again. AND THEN HE HITS A GODDAMN TEN OUT OF TEN MOONSAULT FOR THE 1, 2, 3. God damn it, that thing almost brought a tear to my eye it was so awesome. In the post-fight, the Boss grabs a nightstick and goes Rodney King on Harley Race, resulting in Nick Bockwinkel chastising him for excessive force. Meanwhile, Vader's bloody, flabby ass celebrates in the ring with all of his fat rolls jiggling and it's still freakin' awesome. In the locker room, Bockwinkel chews out the Boss for being a bad sport and LITERALLY takes his name away from him.
Yep. Nothing says "I'm an accomplished adult male" quite like holding up a KFC bucket and flipping off people pretending to hurt each other for a living.

Now that's the kind of wrestling that just don't exist no more. None of this flashy, soyboy, hippity-flippity bullshit, just two big old boys smacking the tar out of each other and bleeding buckets for the LOVE OF THE ART. Vader goddamn rules no matter what and when the Boss was allowed to go, he could flat out GO. A match of the year it may not be, but there's no denying this one was a fun as shit [*** 3/4] caliber match.

 Time for the main event. Ricky Steamboat comes out to his awesome WCW music even though he's still wearing that stupid WWF "The Dragon" costume with the lizard wings and the whole fire-breathing shtick. And in the most '90s thing that has ever happened ever, the camera pans to a guy with a disposable camera taking a picture next to a guy holding a sign featuring Beavis and Butt-head calling Ricky Steamboat cool. Another guy has a sign that reads "This steamboat will run over nature," which, uh doesn't make any damn sense. And of course, Flair comes out to the theme song from "2001," or, as it is more commonly called, "fucking Ric Flair's music, motherfucker." Michael Buffer tells the crowd now is the appropriate time to rumble and pre-N.W.O. Nick Patrick is the referee. Buffer brings up Steamboat beating Flair at the Chi-Town Rumble five years earlier. He gets a surprisingly mixed reaction from the audience. Yeah, this is DEFINITELY a Ric Flair crowd here tonight. I love Heenan calling Flair Red Grange, Kareem Abdul-Jabar, Wayne Gretzky and Hugh Hefner rolled into one human being. And to his credit, Tony S. does an admirable job recapping the famous Flair/Steamboat rivalry without coming off as too marky (New Japan announcers, take fucking note.) We get some solid arm drags and pseudo-chain wrestling to begin. Flair with a front face-lock and a quick breather against the ropes. "This people in Chicago would boo the Easter Bunny," Heenan says. "They'd *mug* the Easter Bunny." Another collar and elbow tie-up. Steamboat with a shoulder-block takedown. More good ground grappling, with both men working some great headlocks and scissor takedowns. And holy shit, Steamboat just slapped THE TASTE out of Flair's mouth, and Ric sells the shit out of it the way only he can. A ton of leapfrogs from Ricky and then we get a power slam. He hits Flair with two funky headscissors and two beautiful dropkicks, completing the combo with a flying karate chop off the top rope. You know, I never understood why it was illegal to back bodydrop a motherfucker over the top rope in WCW, but clotheslining a sumbitch over the top rope was perfectly legal. Flair with an armlock and he keeps throwing Steamboat to the mat. And now, it's time for CHOPS. God, this is fuckin' terrific. Flair momentarily exits the ring and re-enters the fray. Steamboat with a side headlock takedown and a ring rope assisted bulldog. Heenan drops a reference to People's Court, for some inexplicable reason. Steamboat with a shoulderblock and another side headlock. Now THIS is a technical showcase, kids. I LOVE how Steamboat slaps Flair's face while he has him in a headlock. Steamboat keeps spamming the headscissors. Shit, Flair used to have some DEADLY sounding chops back in the day. Steamboat still working a neck crank. More shoulder blocks from Steamboat and Ricky skins the cat ... that sick bastard. Ricky only gets a two-count on the attempted schoolboy. You know, this match has been about 50 percent nothing but headlocks but its still better than 95 percent of what the WWF put out in the 1990s. Steamboat STILL has that headlock/neck crank submission locked in. Flair tries for an atomic drop but Steamboat blocks it. Steamboat with a drop toe hold and he goes right back to the headlock. Heenan wonders why Flair's opponents never try to take his legs out, which come to think of it, is a really great kayfabe observation. Flair with shoulder charges in the corner. Ricky whiffs on a dropkick and Flair chops the SHIT out of that motherfucker in the corner. God, this is so comfy. Flair hits a knee drop. "I can smell pineapple juice," Heenan hilariously comments. Flair with chops galore and another knee drop. Just a two count. Flair keeps trying to go for a pinfall, but Steamboat kicks out like 17 times in a row. Flair with a NICE spinning elbow off the ropes. Steamboat retaliates with some HARD knife edge chops, and Steamboat is MORE than willing to return the favor. Flair ducks a chop and sends Steamboat and himself reeling to the outside on a crossbody. Flair goes for a piledriver on the outside and Steamboat flips him over. Ricky goes for a flying clothesline but he (ironically enough) winds up clotheslining himself on the metal guard rail. Flair throws him back into the ring. Flair goes up top, so of course Steamboat pursues him and superplexes that motherfucker. Naturally, it's only good for a two count. Flair does his patented turnbuckle bump and Steamboat chops his ass off the canvas. And there's flying karate chop to the outside for good measure. Flair begs Steamboat for mercy and Ricky punches Ric ten times in the corner, per the wrestling constitution. FLAIR FLOP TIME! But Flair gets his foot on the rope on the pin attempt. Steamboat gets dumped to the outside and Ric goes for a sunset flip - but Ric counters by punching him right in the goddamn face and it is glorious. Ric goes for a knee drop and Steamboat COUNTERS IT INTO A FIGURE FOUR! Flair keeps trying to get a rope break, and when he can't get it, he just pokes Steamboat in the eyes. Flair is hobbling around the ring. He tries to suplex Steamboat back into the ring but Ricky reverses it into a fallaway pin attempt. After that we have about a dozen near-fall counters with reversals, backslides and headlocks galore and it is goddamn amazing. Steamboat with a small package and Flair begs for his life once more. Steamboat backs Flair into a corner and Ric chops him good. Steamboat shoves the ref out of the way and starts throwing a million billion backhand chops. Flair flops his way through the ropes onto the ramp. Steamboat goes for a suplex. Flair counters it, then Steamboat counters the counter and chops Flair back into the ring. Ric takes another wacky turnbuckle bump and Flair gets his foot up on a flying karate chop attempt. This is an OUTSTANDING match. This one black kid in the crowd rubs Stemboat's shoulders and its really, really funny looking. Flair lands some chops, Steamboat fires back with some chops of his own. Steamboat hits a flying crossbody off the top rope but Flair kicks out. Flair chops Steamboat again and lands a snapmare. He goes up top and Steamboat launches his ass halfway across the ring. Ricky goes up top for another splash but Flair rolls out of the way. FIGURE FOUR TIME MOTHERFUCKER! Steamboat tries to block it, but he can't prevent Ric from fully sinking that fucker in. Steamboat, however, eventually makes it to the ropes. Ric immediately starts kicking Ricky's knees and goes for the Figure Four again. Steamboat rolls up Ric, but it is only good for a two count. Steamboat with a backslide - just a two. Steamboat goes for a superplex, but first he's got to punch Ric fifteen times in the face. And he sticks the 'plex. Both men are splayed out on the canvas as the ref administers a ten count. Ricky makes a cover, and Flair KICKS OUT! The ref gets bumped to the outside, but Flair esacpes the pin attempt anyway. Steamboat has an awesome bearhug/chicken wing submission locked in and he falls down, allowing Ricky to chalk up the three count? Except wait a minute, both men's shoulders were down for the count? Here comes Nick Bockwinkel to render an official verdict. LOL, he says Flair won because, technically, he was on top of Steamboat at the time of the pinfall. Some piddly looking fireworks go off and the fans boo the bullshit finish. Bockwinkel tries to explain how Flair won the match, but his explanation makes zero sense whatsoever. Well, even when WCW was awesome, they STILL had to find ways to fuck things up, didn't they?
The goddamn 1990s defined in one picture.

Anyhoo, that was a SUPERB main event, even with the screwy finish. Granted, it wasn't as good as their 1989 trilogy, but there's no denying it was some of the best pure, no-bullshit-need-apply mat wrestling of the decade. I'd EASILY consider this one of the best WCW PPV main events ever, and an easy [**** 3/4] classic that, for some reason, doesn't get anywhere near as much love from the smarks as you'd imagine. BTW, Flair and Steamboat had a follow-up bout on the ensuing week's edition of WCW Saturday Night, which was also pretty fucking great (and with a far more conclusive finish.) If you haven't, definitely go out of your way to check that one out, too - it's one of the best TV 'rasslin bouts you'll ever see, regardless of the decade.

 Needless to say, with one of the best all-out brawls of the decade and one of the decade's best scientific clinics ... plus a great man-meat festival with Vader/Boss Man, a scummy Hepatitis-C-spreading blood bath between pre-Goldust and some registered sex offender looking fucker, not to mention a way better than it had any right to be "throwaway" Pillman/Regal time filler ... on the same show, this is EASILY one of the best WCW PPVs of the 1990s, if not the company's absolute best ever. 

 WrestleMania 34 might be really, really good, and it might not. Who knows with the product in this day and age. What we know for sure, however, is that this particular PPV is all kinds of awesome, and if you're in dire need of some good, old-fashioned, Southern-style, lights-out, hide-the-women-and-children pro RASSLIN' the way God intended, this is pretty much the most reliable pick-me-up I can think of.

 This is a show WELL worth going out of your ways to experience, folks. If for whatever stupid-ass reason you never saw it back in the day, by all means, hit up the Vimeo or the DailyMotions or the Pornhubs or whatever you kids are using nowadays and see if this tape is still making the rounds.

 Trust me; you won't regret investing the time to find - and enjoy watching every second of - this all-time mat masterpiece.

Tuesday, October 10, 2017

Revisiting WCW Halloween Havoc 1998!

Behold ... the night Disco Inferno outwrestled Bret fuckin' Hart.


By: Jimbo X
JimboXAmerican@gmail.com
@JimboX

One of the great, bygone seasonal rites I really miss nowadays is WCW's annual Halloween Havoc PPV spectacular. Even when the show wasn't necessarily playing the gimmick to its hilt and running fucking electric chair matches and shit, the overall ambiance of the pay-per-views were still usually worth the price of admission alone. I guess it doesn't hurt that, by and large, the Halloween Havoc cards were usually among the best top-to-bottom WCW PPVs each and every year, with some of the best WCW matches ever - Guerrero/Mysterio at HH '97 and Vader vs. Cactus Jack at HH '93 immediately spring to mind - taking place during the All Hallows Eve-themed cards.

 Really, you can't go wrong picking any random-assed Halloween Havoc PPV and having yourself a gay old, seasonally-appropriate time. Indeed, I plan on eventually getting around to recapping all of the old Halloween Havoc shows, but if you had to start with just one to get the nostalgia ball rolling, I reckon you can't outdo the 1998 installment. 

 This was a very interesting time in the history of WCW. The Monday Night Wars were still a 'ragin, and we were still a good six months away from the WWF completely pulling ahead in the race and making it a pure-D laugher. In some ways, you could call this WCW at its absolute peak - that point in time where it was still not only a viable challenger to Vince McMahon, but in many ways the superior brand, both economically and in terms of in-ring quality. And without giving it away too soon, Halloween Havoc '98 is undoubtedly one of the more historic wrestling PPVs of the late 1990s - for reasons both laudable and dubious. Alas, there's no reason to spoil the tricks and treats here; how about we fire up this old VHS copy and relive the wonder and whimsy all over again? 

We begin with a weird preview video recapping the Hogan/Warrior and Goldberg/DDP rivalries through this purple, obfuscating fog while really ominous, operatic music plays over it. And yes, there is an allusion to the infamous Nitro "mirror" segment, in case you were wondering. 

 We are coming to you LIVE from Las Vegas, where the crowd is so loud you can't hear Tony Schiavone say shit. Fuck, I am already dying from nostalgia just looking at the set, which features the iconic Halloween Havoc pumpkin prop getting EATEN by a giant, mechanical Nosferatu-like head that snorts dry ice like an unholy Brahma bull. Bonus points for the spooky music, the smoke billowing off the stage and the fucking explosions everywhere.

 Our announcers (whose names are Kryon captioned onscreen in a really groovy gothic font) are the aforementioned Tony S, Bobby "The Brain" Heenan and Mike Tenay. Heenan keeps droning on and on about Hulk hitting his nephew over the head with a a chair and how that makes him one of the lowest forms of life on the planet. Then he puts on a masquerade mask (is that technically redundant?) and everybody starts chanting "weasel." I'm going to be saying this a lot, but I am gobsmacked by just how hot the crowd is for this show - and here I was, thinking it was a creative and financial dead zone for WCW. 
Allow me to sound like a 14-year-old black girl for a moment: can you name a more iconic trio than this?

The Nitro Girls (remember them?) dance a jig in the ring and this one guy in the crowd has a gigantic poster that says something about Twin Falls, Idaho (the same place where several Syrian refugees sexually assaulted a five-year-old in 2016 - predictive programming, perhaps?) and the sound of the audience totally drowns out the commentators. Maybe it was just WCW's mixing, but fuck, does that crowd sound nuclear. We throw it to Mean Gene Okerlund, who interviews Rick Steiner until Buff Bagwell comes out wearing a FUBU shirt and says everybody is sick of Scott Steiner and he wants to form an alliance. While Rick struggles to enunciate and Buff barks like a retard, Mean Gene runs down the entire kayfabe executive committee process to change a PPV match, and it's awesome.

 Time for our in-ring curtain jerker. Raven comes out to his awesome ass music and the announcers are totally inaudible. His opponent is Chris Jericho (billed from Calgary, oddly enough) thus officially making this a battle of Jimmy Hart-produced grunge standard rip-off entrance themes (Raven's "Come As You Are" knockoff versus Jericho's "Evenflow" imitation ... pretty ironic considering Raven's finisher is called the "Evenflow," but that WCW logic for 'ya.) 

 Raven sits in the corner with a mic and utters his ultra-shitty "What about me, what about Raven?" catchphrase and complains about having an unscheduled match tonight so he ain't gonna' do it. He leaves the ring, Jericho grabs the mic and says he equals buyrates and he's sorely disappointed because he really wanted to wrestle Raven, but he does so in a really mocking fashion and then he calls Raven's Flock a bunch of idiots so his foe runs back into the ring and starts stomping him. Well, looks like we're gonna' have that match after all, ain't we? 

 Jericho whips Raven with his own leather jacket, then Raven kicks out of his cocky "foot on the chest" pin attempt and Jericho clotheslines Raven over the top rope. Hot balls on summer pavement, I can't believe how fired up this crowd is for just the opening match. Raven grabs the steel ring steps and suplexes Jericho stomach-first onto the international object. He follows suit with a running dropkick off said metal steps. Hey, I just noticed Raven's wearing a Suicidal Tendencies tee-shirt - now, that would be considered "retro," but back in '98 it made him look like a poor-ass meth dealer. Jericho stun guns Raven on the ropes (which Tony mysteriously calls a "defensive move") and then he sends Raven reeling with a springboard dropkick. Jericho goes for a plancha but eats guardrail instead. Raven keeps slamming Jericho's head on the steps, so I take it this is a 'no DQ' match now? Jericho swings Raven's ass into the guardrail and when we get back inside the ring, Raven tries to choke Jericho with his jacket and starts biting his forehead. Raven applies a sleeperhold and Jericho counters with a belly to back suplex and a running senton. Jericho surreptitiously unties the top turnbuckle pad. Raven hits a powerbomb and he slingshots Jericho into the exposed metal pad. Raven with a bulldog on the follow-through, but it only nets a two. Jericho whiffs on a spinning kick and Raven hits him with a belly to back suplex. Jericho goes for a rolling pin attempt, but at the last second he turns it into the Lion Tamer, but Raven is able to reach the ropes. Jericho goes for an Irish whip, but Raven counters with the Evenflow DDT - and Jericho kicks out at two. Jericho goes for a cheap schoolboy roll-up, but that's only good for a two. He hits Raven with a flagrant nutshot and a German suplex, but yep, that's only good for a two count as well. Jericho bumps into Kanyon (who I think was trying to interfere in the match?), Raven goes for the DDT, Jericho counters with the Lion Tamer in the middle of the ring and his opponent immediately taps. All in all, not a bad little opening contest, if I may say so myself. [** 3/4]
Only '90s kids will remember this is the right way to do the Walls of Jericho.

"Voodoo Child" start playing and this one guy in the audience is showing off his One Warrior Nation shirt because he genuinely thought that was something to be proud of. Again, the announcers are all but inaudible. Here comes Eric Bischoff (with a goatee) and the Hulkster. "I love this man so much," Hulk says before kissing Eric's brow. Bischoff says Hulk represents this millennium's family values and Hulk says he's not here to give the Gettysburg Address (fuck, now that I have that mental picture in my head, it actually sounds kinda' awesome) and he recounts "crucifying" Horus Hogan on Nitro. Look at that South Park stylized Wolfpac Sting cartoon in the crowd - now THAT is 1998 personified. Hogan calls the Warrior "a Bozo with paint on his face" and lets him know that if you question his power, "you're going to get beat up real, real bad, for life, brother." Yeah, I'm pretty sure Eric B. was visibly high throughout the entire segment.

 Coming to the ring next, it's Disco Inferno, and the audience actually disco dances to his theme music. Fuck, we were all such self-unconscious fools back then. His opponent is Juventud Guerrera - while walking to the ring, he says something about "Juvy Juice" but it sounds more like he's saying "I hate Jews" and we all share a hearty chuckle. 

 Yeah, just fuck trying to understand what the announcers are saying from hereon out. Disco with some elbow shots early. He kicks Juvy in the corner and follows it up with a side slam. Juvy retaliates with some LOUD ass chops, a tilt-a-whirl and a clothesline. Then he hits Disco with that elevated leg drop thingy where he puts his thigh on his opponent's head then jumps about five feet in the air for no apparent reason. Juvy continues the offensive onslaught with more chops in the corner. Disco fires back with an elbow, then Juvy monkey flips him out of the ring. Juvy flies under the bottom rope to the outside and lands a head scissors takedown, but he fucks it up and lands face first on the outside mat. Disco hits an inverted atomic drop, followed by a clothesline. He continues to punish Juvy with an elbow drop off the top rope, but it only nets a two-count, so he slaps on a sleeper hold instead. Mike Tenay chides Disco for "his poor weight distribution" while Heenan simultaneously puts Disco over and buries him by saying "he could be great, but he needs guidance." Juvy hits a spinning kick and a jaw jacker on the top rope. He follows suit with a plancha to the outside while Disco unwisely showboats. Back in the ring, Juvy hits a hurrancanrana (for fuck's sake, somebody please explain the etymology on this one - I mean, in Spanish, it literally translates into "hurricane frog") and Disco ripostes with a stun gun onto to the top rope and a swinging neckbreaker. I've got to say, these two dudes are really surprising me by how fluid their counters and reversals are. Juvy goes for a sunset flip, but Disco punches him and starts doing the La Macarena dance before hitting THE GIANT SWING and falling face first onto Juvy's balls. "It was inadvertent," Tony S. deadpans, "buy my God, it worked." Disco lands a textbook suplex. He goes up top and Juvy crotches him. Juvy lands a top rope hurrancanrana and a corkscrew press off the top, but it only nets him a two. Juvy counters an Irish whip reversal into a bulldog, but that only gets a two-count as well. Juvy goes for a reverse hurrancanrana and Disco counters it with a fucking THICK looking piledriver and that gets us our three-count, folks. A surprisingly enjoyable little romp right there. [** 3/4]
Your call: is it a screenshot from the actual PPV, or an image from a Nintendo 64 game?

The Nitro Girls are back out dressed like knockoff Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders shaking their tits and spreading their legs over steel chairs and shit and you've GOT to hear Tony S. say "yeah" like he's having to pretend to be heterosexual during the whole routine. Here comes Scott Steiner, who immediately calls Las Vegas "the town that never sleeps" because hes a fucking idiot, that's why. He calls Buff Bagwell a mama's boy and says Rick Steiner his been his brother "his whole life" and proposes they turn the match tonight into a Giant/Scott vs. Rick/Buff tag team bout. Here comes kayfabe WCW commissioner JJ Dillon. He says as long as they put the tag title bouts on the line, and he fights Rick for 15 minutes if he loses, he'll make the tag bout official. Fuck, none of these guys could emote worth a damn - say what you will about modern wrestling, but at least today's stars sound halfway human when they cut promos.

 And following yet ANOTHER Nitro Girls routine, Disco Inferno is back out. You see, his match against Juvy was to determine the No. 1 contender for Billy Kidman's Cruiserweight title. Which we're getting. Right now.

 Kidman's music is such a ripoff of Death in Vegas' "Dirt." Or maybe "Dirt" is just a ripoff of the stock music WCW used, there's no real way to tell. Tony S. says he can't imagine Disco winning the match, to which Bobby responds "we didn't think he could beat Juventud, so stranger things have happened." Disco with a scoop slam. Kidman fires back with a drop toe hold with a floatover armbar Tony S. describes as "very basic." Kidman throws Disco's head back when he does that old "Imma gonna' throw you into the ropes and duck when you come back at me so I can flip your ass over" spot and hits a hurrancanrana (or, as Tony calls it, "a nifty move") before hitting a top rope springboard. Disco with a drop toe hold of his own sends Kidman nose first into the ring ropes (which Mike Tenay awesome refers to as "steel cables" to really amp up the drama.) I legit laugh out loud when Disco mocks his opponent by yelling "Kidman, turn the music down!" and answering back "yes, mom!" Kidman with a boot to the face, but Disco holds the top rope down so he goes a sailin'. Kidman hits a running bulldog off the metal steps onto the concrete floor, and when Disco rolls back into the ring, he whiffs on the top rope frog splash attempt. Disco works a chinlock. Kidman escapes and hits his foe with a clothesline. Kidman gets flapjacked while rebounding off the ropes and Disco decides right then and there is the best possible time to stop trying to win the match and start doing La Macarena instead. I mean, shit, that thing was a meme in 1996, so why the fuck WCW is still using it as a pop cultural reference point in October 1998 is simply beyond me.

Alright, Disco with more stomps in the corner ... and more pelvis gyrations. Disco lands a "belly to back style" suplex, per Tony S. Inferno's insults continue to rule the world. "Show me something you punk, you pipsqueak!" he yells. Disco with a jaw jacker on the top rope, followed by a scoop slam. He goes up top and misses an elbow drop. Kidman hits his shitty lifting powerbomb thing and a powerslam that doesn't look all that powerful. Disco responds with the same text book piledriver that put away Juvy, but uh-oh, he's too winded to make the cover right away and can only chalk up a two count. Kidman goes for another springboard bulldog, but Disco counters it with a front facelock slam - actually, that looked kinda' cool. Disco goes for another La Macarena Driver, and Kidman reverses it into his shitty facebuster sub-finisher, and that gives him ample time to go up top and hit the Shooting Star Press for the three count. Well, I'll be damned - that makes it two back-to-back above-average showings from Disco Inferno on one PPV ... which is about two more than anybody back in '98 would've thought possible. I'll give it [** 3/4] as we segue to our next championship tilt.
Oh, the late 1990s - back when not only was it OK to cheer when an Italian choked a Mexican, it was wholeheartedly encouraged.

There's the NWO music again. Scott Steiner and The Giant come out first. When the future Big Show does his retarded "giant growl" arm raise thingy, a buncha' green pyro goes off and it does look somewhat cool. Scott tells the cameraman "I'm chiseled," because nobody expects coherent statements from Big Poppa Pump at any point in human history. Also - fuck, is the height discrepancy between these two a sight to behold. Scott grabs a fan sign that says he rules the world of wrestling, and that's our cue for Rick and Buff to stroll to the ring, barking like dogs and homoerotically riding each other like ponies once they get into the ring. 

Oh shit, you can see the Giant's butt cheeks hanging out of his underwear. And of course, Tony S. just HAS to bring up Rick Steiner's infamous promo with Chucky. The Giant and Rick are in the ring to begin. The Giant dominates with slaps early and an inverted atomic drop. Scott gets the tag and he pummels his brother with stomps and mounted punches. Rick gets thrown to the outside and the Giant headbutts him. Back in the ring, Scott continues to punch Rick up against the ropes. Rick hits an atomic drop and then he starts beating the fuck out of Scott and the crowd goes wild. Then Scott hits an atomic drop (but not as good as the one the U.S. army did on Hiroshima that one time), and Rick counters with a clothesline. Buff demands Rick tag him in, and as soon as he does, OF COURSE he turns on Rick, hits him a couple of times and runs out of the building, leaving Rick to battle the two men alone. Scott with a blatant nut kick the ref doesn't call. The fans chant "Goldberg" while Scott just keeps stomping the shit out of his brother. Scott with a scoop slam and more mudhole stompin' in the corner.The Giant is tagged in and he stomps on Rick's chest and slaps the fuck out of him. LOL, some dude in the crowd says something about steroids while Scott is outside. The Giant keeps doing this shtick where he starts to pin Rick, but lets him up after the one count to beat the hell out of him some more. Scott gets tagged back in and Rick finally starts fighting back. "Do you think Judy Bagwell had anything to do with this?" Tony S. asks. "No," Tenay responds, "she's a fine woman." Rick's comeback attempt is squelched by his brother kicking him in the balls. Then Scott holds up Rick, the Giant goes up top and - you guessed it - he accidentally missile drop kicks his own partner when Rick rolls out of harm's way at the last second. Man, Scott does such a great job selling it, too - he's acting like that last move killed his ass dead. Rick hits the Giant with a series of clothesline and finally, a bulldog off the top rope and that secures him the three count AND the WCW Tag Team Championship. 

 Oh, but we ain't finished yet. Now, as per JJ Dillon's agreement, now Scott has to go toe-to-toe with his brother Rick in a singles contest. Rick chases Scott outside and bangs his head against the guardrail. He fights off the Giant and slams his brother's head into the metal steps. Scott begs for mercy but Rick just keeps a-punchin' him and clotheslinin' his ragged ass. I know I've already mentioned it, but it bears repeating: fuck, this crowd is just insanely pumped for all this shit. Rick lands an inverted Alabama Slam into the corner, but Scott rebounds and lands a tide-turning belly to back suplex. Say what you will about Scotty S., but that dude could throw some solid looking punches. Scott does that thing where you put your opponent chin down on the second rope and then you run into them with your balls against the back of their head. Rick hits a power slam and then a BAD-ASS belly to back 'plex. Then, on the outside, some dude wearing a Bill Clinton mask(!?!) hops over the guardrail. Stevie Ray hands him an international object of some kind before he gets in the ring. He enters the fray and coldcocks Rick and the ref and the bell sounds. But I think it's a no-DQ match, so it doesn't really matter. Slick Willy removes the mask and, yep, it's Buff Bagwell again. "I'm tired of getting gypped," Heenan comments, in what I think constitutes a shoot comment on the quality of WCW's story line swerves. In a great spot, Buff grabs the knocked out ref's hand and beats it against the mat with his own hand to make the pin count, but surprisingly Rick kicks out at two. Then Scott hits him with a TOP ROPE FRANKENSTEINER but I'll be goddamned, Rick kicks out of that, too. Rick hits Scott with a clothesline and drops Buff throat-first on the top rope. Rick goes up top, lands another bulldog on Scott and a new ref runs out to make the three count. Well, that was a totally overbooked clusterfuck, but I'll be a monkey's uncle if I didn't just plain like it. If you count both matches as a single entity (which, for storyline's sake, you pretty much have to) I'd feel comfortable giving it a solid [***] rating. And just when you think this overachieving match had peaked, there's a great up-close shot of Buff rolling around all groggy on the mat, only to look the cameraman dead in the eye and ask "anybody seen Monica?"
Huh - I wonder how many international objects this guy managed to fit inside Monica's Dungeon of Doom, if you get my drift? (And by Dungeon of Doom, I mean "her vagina.")

We've got a video package highlighting the rift between Scott Hall and Kevin Nash. "What could've possessed Hall to turn on his best friend?" the narrator asks. We recount Scott Hall's infamous "alcoholic" angle, complete with that time he worked puked on Nitro, and here comes comes the former Razor Ramon now, stumbling down the ramp carrying a plastic cup with some kind of dark liquid inside it. You have to dig that "bloody" black and white vest that says "Lone Wolf" on the back. But wait a minute ... if the blood is white, doesn't that technically make it cum? 

 Nash comes out to that awesome Wolfpac rap song that's actually a rip-off of Militia's "Burn." "I don't think there's any question he's Mr. Cool," Tony S. remarks. So, the storyline here is that Nash is trying to help Hall kick his drinking problem by beating some sense into him, which is definitely something I never knew was one of the duties of an Alcoholics Anonymous sponsor. Shit, had I known that was one of the job requirements, I would've signed up years ago.

 So Hall immediately throws his adult beverage in Nash's face and starts stomping that ass. Some outside brawling ensues and Nash eats ringpost multiple times. Hall bops him with David Penzar's microphone and starts choking Nash with a video camera cable. Then he grabs the mic while refs and trainers tend to Nash's injuries. "How's the world look through foggy eyes?" he asks Nash, presumably referring to all the dry ice billowing down the rampway. Eventually, Nash climbs his way back into the ring and Hall bitch slaps yesterday's taste out of his mouth. Hall with another flurry of awesome-looking slap-punches. It's clear Nash doesn't want to hurt his best pal - not a bad little story line you're working here, WCW. Deafening "Wolfpac" chants pipe up as Hall hits Nash with a scoop slam. Nash shirks off the Razor's Edge attempt and eats more punches in the corner from Hall. Still, Nash just plain refuses to fight back. Nash then starts pinballing Hall into the turnbuckles and then he hits a sidewalk slam, his first real offensive move of the night. They're on their knees, trading slaps. Nash hits a knee to the stomach and a series of knuckles to Hall's noggin. Hall momentarily rolls to the outside. He goes back in the ring and we've got a classical collar and elbow tie-up. Nash shoves him down and Hall fires back with some shoulder shunts and an arm drag. Nash ripostes with a short-arm clothesline, just like Gary Coleman would've. You know, because he was a midget and shit? Nash slams Hall face first into the mat and there's the old "running balls to the back of your head" chestnut again. Actually, he sticks it twice for good measure. Nash with some knees to the solar plexus in the corner. "This has been one for the ages just in terms of sheer brutality," Tenay remarks. Nash knees the fuck out of Hall, stopping briefly only to say "have another drink, baby!" That makes me wonder - are all the wrestlers micced for the evening? Because being able to hear them talk mad shit during the match just adds so much more to the experience, and today's promotions would be wise to copy it. Nash with some elbows to the back of the head. Then he starts pantomiming drinking a beer and I laugh my ass off. Nash lands the Jackknife Powerbomb and yells "I think I'll have a double" and hits him with another one, complete with a patented DX crotch-chop over his fallen foe for one last fuck you. Except instead of pinning him, Nash figures he's already proven his point and climbs out of the ring and starts walking back to the dressing room, and Scott Hall - despite being flat on his back for the last two minutes - winds up winning the whole enchilada via count-out. Well, I'll give 'em some credit, that was some really good storytelling right there, even if the match itself was kinda' ho-hum. I'll give it [** 1/2] for effort and it's time to keep chugging along.
Come to think of it, wrestling does need more hoes in bondage leather and rainbow wigs. A LOT more, actually.

The Nitro Girls are back out again, wearing neon rainbow wigs and leather dresses. This leads to Heenan dropping the line of the night: "they're dressed like Lodi."

 The U.S. Championship is on the line next. Bret Hart is out first, complete with entrance music that sucks all the known dicks in the universe. Tony S. says it's the battle of "The Sharpshooter vs. The Scorpion," but I'm not entirely sure this is their first one-on-one encounter. Sting - complete with his short-lived goatee - is out second. This was during his Wolfpac phase, so his face paint is all red and shit. Tony S. talks about the value of the titles, and how they kayfabe drive up a wrestler's pay and prestige, but god damn it, tonight's bouts are about settling personal issues, not making money. For whatever reason, Bret Hart has been acting like a dick lately, and Sting ain't none too happy about his pissy disposition. Thus, they handle the interpersonal drama the only way real man can, dabnabbit - with commercialized violence.

 Both dudes are stalling like motherfuckers, with Bret slinking around on the outside and Sting waving his bat back and forth in the ring. Bret gets in the ring for a second but bails again so he can jaw with a fat redheaded woman in a Goldberg shirt. Sting finally Pearl Harbors him and throws him into the ring. Sting with stomps and the old ten count punch in the corner. He hits a clothesline and a mean right cross, but the follow-up atomic drop only nets a two. When asked why these two are on bad terms, Heenan give it his best shot - "I think they're jealous of each other's finishing move." Bret rakes Sting's eyes and DDTs his foe out of his shoes. But it's only worth a two-count. Bret follows suit with an atomic drop and a clothesline. He hits Sting with a headbutt to the solar plexus, even though Sting holds his balls in agony instead. Bret hits a leg drop, but it's only good enough for a two-count. Then Bret heabutts Sting's ASS multiple times and gives him a blatant choke in the corner. Bret drops him with a right and a follow-up elbow. Hitman locks in a sleeperhold, but Sting fights out. Bret ends his comeback putsch with a sudden knee to the gut. He chokes Sting with the middle rope and lands a bulldog. Bret with a Russian leg sweep, then he goes up top for a leg drop. Sting counters with the Scorpion Death Lock, but Bret quickly makes it to the ropes. Now Sting's on the offensive. Bret pretends he tore a hamstring on a leapfrog and Sting just stomps the shit out of him. Then Bret reaches into his trunks and pulls out some knucks. But Sting grabs a hold of them and hits Bret with a clothesline, but the ref halts him before he clocks Bret with the international object, and Bret uses the pause in the action to furtively hit Sting in the balls. Bret with some more breadbasket stomping and a backbreaker, but the diving fist drop only gets a two. Bret dumps Sting to the outside and tosses him into the guardrail, continually feeding him Canadian knuckle sandwiches. "Oh my God, you're so sexy!" some ring rat yells at Sting. Goddamn, 1998 women were the easiest. Back in the ring and Sting accidentally elbows the ref and Bret leg drops the fallen official for good measure. Now Sting is punching the shit out of Bret. He hits a clothesline but Bret kicks him on the Stinger Splash attempt. Bret gets crotched and Sting superplexes him RIGHT ON TOP OF THE REF'S LEG. Fuck, that looked painful. Sting goes for the Splash again, but he overshoots his target and KOs himself on the metal pole (yes, just like at Great American Bash '92.) Bret rolls outside, grabs the bat and hits Sting a million billion times. He then revives the ref, who does a particularly terrible job pretending to come back to his senses. Bret locks in the Sharpshooter. The ref does the old arm drop thing, and sure as sugar, Sting's arm goes down three times, giving Hitman the official submission victory. Kind of a letdown considering the pedigree of the two wrestler involved, but it was still fairly watchable - good enough for a [** 1/2] rating, at least. 

 For some reason, Bret has totally different outro music than he did entering the match-up. Sting is still out, so the ref calls for somebody in the back to give him a look-over. Here comes the paramedics with a stretcher. Oddly enough, none of the announcers act all that concerned that the face of the organization is laying lifeless in the middle of the ring and obviously seriously injured. Instead, while Sting is getting rolled out of the arena, Tony S keeps pimping the upcoming Hogan/Warrior match. Shit, that's like Joe Buck doing a hard sell for The Simpsons while Tom Brady lies motionless and unresponsive for five minutes after a helmet to helmet hit, ain't it?
I'm not entirely sure, but I think "The Scoripian" is a reference to an obscure sex act involving a chinchilla and four feet of garden hose.

"Time for the most anticipated rematch, eight years in the making," declares ring announcer Dave Penzer. Hogan (with his white boa) is out first. "I'm going to take the Warrior and break him in half, brother," he remarks. We get yet another recap of the NWO beating da fuq outta Horace Hogan on Nitro. Warrior's residence is listed as "One Warrior Nation" and his entrance music is utter shit. But man - do I wish that airbrushed leather trenchcoat look came back en vogue. Tony S. keeps calling it "the match of the decade" while they do nothing but circle each other like Shamrock and Severn at UFC 9. After some stalling, Warrior drops Hulk with a right and starts beating his own chest like a gorilla. Hogan works the arm early. Warrior reverses it and hits Hulk with a running shoulder block and Hogan bails to the outside. "You may not like it," Tony S. comments, "but it's smart wrestling by Hogan." The fans chant "you suck" at Hogan while Tony S. talks about Hogan's metaphorical "demons" since it's Halloween and shit. Then Warrior demands a test of strength. Hogan decks him instead and knees him in the corner. Hogan breaks out the rarely seen beyond 1985 "knuckle lock" spot. You know, the one where it looks like the other dude is on his knees sucking his dick while he tries to break his hands. And God, do I love Hogan's Vaudevillian laugh as he calls the fans "pieces of crap." Again - I can't tell you how much it adds to a match when you can hear the wrestlers talking mad shit to each other. Well, this thing is starting to drag already. Is the crowd chanting "Warrior" or "boring?" Hogan finally works in an arm wrench transition. Warrior reverses it and we have that old criss-cross running spot, which concludes with Hogan power slamming his foe, which - naturally - the Warrior refuses to sell as he bops right back up and hits Hogan with a power slam of his own. Then he gyrates like a retard against the ropes and clotheslines Hulk over the top rope. More "Hogan sucks" chants as they scuffle outside. Hulk with an eye rake, and then Warrior slams Hulk head first on the guard rail. And that's our cue for a ref bump, with Hogan dropping a knee on Nick Patrick's head for good measure. Hogan puts the Warrior in a headlock and calls for backup. Here comes The Giant. Hulk holds up the Warrior, and of course, the Giant accidentally kicks Hogan when the Warrior ducks. Virgil and Stevie Ray get clotheslined before they can even get in the ring by the Warrior. He goes for a pin but the ref is still out. Hogan hits a back body suplex, but it's only worth a two count. Hogan with more knees to the back. He grabs his infamous workout belt and starts strangling his adversary with it. Hulk hits a body slam but the Warrior keeps rolling away when Hogan goes for the elbow drop. The Warrior misses on the body splash, but he yanks off Hulk's belt and starts whipping him with it. Then Hulk digs into his tights and pulls out a baggie of ... something. He's got a lighter, but LOL, the fucking fireball doesn't ignite when he throws it in the Warrior's face. I SWEAR I hear a "you fucked up" chant. Anyhoo, Warrior keeps hammering Hulk and goes up top, and yep, he lands the axehandle smash. He goes up again and hits another axehandle. Hogan's bleeding. He hits Warrior in the balls and clotheslines him. Hulk with the atomic leg drop and here comes Horace Hogan with a chair. The Warrior starts Warrioring Up and hits Hulk with a barrage of clotheslines. Eric Bischoff distracts the ref and Horace bonks The Warrior over the head, allowing Hulk to make the cover for the 1, 2, 3. Post-match, Hulk tells Horace "he's passed the test" and Hogan's nephew STARTS DOUSING THE WARRIOR IN LIGHTER FLUID. Of course, the WCW suits run in before the Warrior can be set ablaze, as Heenan nonchalantly quips "do you realize the tragedy that was averted here?" at the thought of the company's top draw immolating another employee like a captive in an ISIS snuff film. Well, that ending was weird as all hell, and overall, it was unquestionably a subpar match. But it's nowhere near as bad as the IWC hivemind would have you believe, either. I'll give it a mediocre [**] for some entertaining moments, as we rush into our main event for the evening.

Yeah - a fizzled out piece of flash paper is quite the apt metaphor for this match as a whole.

Bruce Buffer is in the ring for the introductions. The world's most brazen "Smells Like Teen Spirit" ripoff heralds the arrival of Diamond Dallas Page, who jumps all over the commentary desk and runs through the crowd before getting into the ring. Fuck, Buffer's intro is like 18 pages long. And of course, we get the old school Goldberg intro with the cops escorting him ringside. The "GOLDBERG" chants are deafening - I haven't seen a Jew this over since Jesus.

 This thing just has the air of a heavyweight boxing fight. The two competitors jaw at each other in the middle of the ring and Goldberg keeps shoving him into the turnbuckle. There's another lockup and DDP hits an armdrag. Goldberg tackles DDP through the middle rope and the ref breaks up the outside scuffling. There's another lockup, but this time, DDP counters the armdrag with a backflip (for real) and kicks da fuq outta' Page. Goldberg does an awesome float-over suplex into a cross armbreaker combo. DDP gets the rope break, then he lands a jawbreaker and fires off a few elbow shots. He goes for the Diamond Cutter, but Goldberg pushes him out of the ring again.

 Back inside and we have ourselves another lockup. Goldberg works an armwrench and DDP counters it into an armbar. Goldberg then shoulder blocks him out of the ring again. DDP with another jawbreaker, followed by a neckbreaker and a Russian leg sweep. The pin attempt can only net a two. DDP works a front facelock. Goldberg with knee strikes and a swinging neckbreaker counter. Tenay notes the Goldberg is working DDP's arm to make the Diamond Cutter less effective. Goldberg with another one-armed suplex and a sidewalk slam. Just a two. Goldberg goes back to working the armbar. The transition here is just superb - it almost feels BATTLARTS-esque. DDP with a tilt-a-whirl head scissors takedown, but Goldberg immediately responds with a side kick. Goldberg goes for the spear but DDP moves out of the way at the last second and he bonks his head on the ringpost (yep, there's that Sting/Vader Great American Bash '92 spot again.) Both men grimace in pain as they try to climb back into the ring.

 DDP hits a flying top rope clothesline. He stomps on the World Champ and counters a Goldberg slam into a DDT while Tony S. makes a REALLY clumsy allusion to the ending of King Kong. DDP motions for the Diamond Cutter and GOLDBERG SPEARS HIS ASS. But he can't make the cover because he hurt his shoulder on the ring post earlier, remember?

 Goldberg sets up the Jackhammer, but DDP holds onto Goldberg's neck. Bill goes for another one and DDP HITS THE CUTTER. The fans go apeshit, but DDP is too winded to make the pin. DDP finally manages to make the cover, but Goldberg KICKS OUT. This was back when finishers were still protected, and fucking nobody kicked out of the Diamond Cutter. DDP looks for a suplex. Goldberg counters with the Jackhammer, he lands it, and that is goddamn it. "That's why he's 155-0," Tenay says. Fuck, for a barely ten-minute-long match, that shit was BUMPING. In the post-fight segment, Goldberg lifts DDP's arm as he slowly sulks back to the ring. Goldberg holds the title up as we quickly cut to an ad for World War 3, and this thing is el over-o.
Yep ... even in 1998, Goldberg was already the king of awesome, ten-minute, five-move matches.
The ending to the [****] main event is infamous for cutting out during the PPV feed across several large TV markets. Even now nobody's sure if that's a legitimate technical snafu or it was WCW pulling a fast one, but it did give them a convenient excuse to replay the match in its entirety on the very next episode of Nitro (which was one of the last times WCW beat the WWF in the Monday Night War ratings, if I remember correctly.)

 Regardless, HH '98 serves as something of a corporate apex for WCW. With Kevin Nash ending Goldberg's undefeated streak just two months later ... itself, followed up by the infamous "finger poke of doom" title change ... one could easily argue it was all downhill for WCW from here. If you go back and watch any WCW PPV from 1999 or 2000, it feels like a show from a company in total freefall mode, but this particular event feels the exact opposite. There was a LOT of potential on the WCW roster at the time, and it's a crying shame the company wound up eating its own ass just a couple of months after this show. I guess you could say this show was one final outstanding performance before the product as a whole took a swan dive into the Dempster-Dumpster, and for that, it should be relished.

 Interestingly, a quick glance at the Wikipedia entry for the show reveals a couple of matches were excised from my copy of the PPV, including a Wrath/Meng bout, a Perry Saturn/Lodi shindig and even a match where Alex Wright allegedly beat Fit Finlay. I've found photos online suggesting these matches did in fact take place, but I can't drum up any readily available video footage, but I highly doubt we're missing any five star hidden masterpieces here. Still, it would be neat to see that Wright/Finlay bout surface on the YouTubes or the DailyMotions - I can't imagine what kinda' fantastical bullshit they had to cook up to allow fucking Berlyn to beat Finlay, even in make-believe fighting.  

Even in truncated form, however, off the top of my head, I don't recall any WWF PPV from 1998 being as holistically sound from top-to-bottom. The main event was outstanding, you had a decent-to-legitimately good undercard and even the notorious Hulk/Warrior rematch wasn't THAT bad (although I'd strongly recommend watching it with Tony Schiavone's 20-years-after-the-fact commentary for extra LULZ.) There's just so much nostalgic charm to the PPV, and it really makes me yearn for the good old days, back when TNT showed live pro rasslin' and movies hosted by Joe Bob Briggs instead of old episodes of Law and Order: Special Victims Unit 22 times a day, Monday-through-Friday. 

 Or, in other words, it may not be the pinnacle of pro wrestling as an art form in the 1990s (because if it did, it would have a whole bunch of Japanese people involved), but it was still an extremely satisfying card from top-to-bottom, with in-ring action that holds up far better today than you'd probably assume.

 There's a lot of WCW nostalgia going around these days - what, with the return of Starrcade and War Games and wrestlers getting paid way more money than they're worth and what not - and that's for a reason. Post NWO, pre-Russo WCW really was one of the best stretches any major pro wrestling promotion has ever had, and as good as HH '98 may be, it's probably not even a legit top ten contender for best WCW PPV of the mid-to-late 1990s. And if there was EVER an ancient World Championship Wrestling shtick to revive in this, the post-post-post-postmodern era of fake fisticuffs, Halloween Havoc ought to be at the top of the list. Well, that, and the triple-tiered cage, but really, that's a story for an altogether different day ...
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