Innovator
03-30-2010, 04:02 PM
from ESPN.com
I wanted to watch Shawn Michaels' last match at WrestleMania XXVI. Unfortunately, the event cost $54 on pay-per-view. If you ordered it in HD, it cost $64. I thought this was amazing. Sixty-four dollars??? That's six "Max and Ruby" DVDs! (Note: In the old days, I would have joked, "That's three cases of beer!" Shoot me.) I already feel bad enough about still kinda-sorta-just-a-little-bit following professional wrestling, but having that $64 order show up on my DirecTV bill was a signed confession telling the Sports Gal, "You married an enormous loser."
Then I remembered something …
If I wrote a running diary for ESPN.com, I could write off that $64 as a "work expense." Even better, I could tell my wife that "I had to watch this for work." Woohoo! I spared her the ignominy of watching it live Sunday night, waiting until Monday morning to watch it by myself on DVR. Here's a running diary of what transpired …
0:00: We're coming to you (not) live from Glendale, Ariz.! The WWE somehow packed 72,000 fans into the Cardinals' football stadium. I have only been there once. Super Bowl XLII. Helmet Catch. Giants 17, Pats 14. Let's move on. Our announcers: Michael Cole, Jerry "The King" Lawler and Matt "I Can't Believe A Porn Star Hasn't Used This Fake Name Yet" Striker.
0:01: For our first match, tag-team championship belts are on the line: R-Truth (a rapper/wrestler) and John Morrison (an entertaining Jim Morrison ripoff) challenging the champs, The Big Show and The Miz (carrying two belts apiece, for some reason). R-Truth came out prancing and singing his hit song, "What's Up?" The lyrics go like this: "Shshshn cnbcnsbdb fhdehsh fhdhs dhdhan dbdjdndjd dbdbdbdbdb shshsnhs ffrhdhhjs xbcxbbffgfhhj WHAT'S UP? WHAT'S UP? WHAT'S UP? WHAT'S UP?" I don't think he wrote that one with Burt Bacharach and Carly Simon.
0:03: Our first shot of tonight's Spanish announcers: Hugo Savinovich and Carlos Cabrera. Someone will be thrown through their table tonight. Oh, yes.
0:05: Miz and Morrison start off the match. According to Cole, they were former buddies and tag-team partners until they had a falling-out. (What? That never happens!) I continue to be dumbfounded that The Miz -- once upon a time a skinny "Real World: New York" roommate named Mike who referred to himself as "The Miz" and cracked his housemates up with fake wrestling speeches, then went on to a moderately successful "Real World/Road Rules Challenge" guy as he continued to refer to himself as "The Miz" -- somehow became a WWE tag-team champion named "The Miz." This is like Darryl Strawberry winning "Celebrity Apprentice," then becoming a Fortune 500 CEO.
0:06: Cole tries to claim that Big Show is 486 pounds and seven feet tall. All wrestling heights/weights get bumped by 14.3 percent. It's just the rule. By the way, it continues to bother me that Big Show wears the black tights with straps over both shoulders as opposed to the single strap. All giants should wear a single strap. You hear me? One strap!
0:09: Big Show pins Morrison as I fight off the urge to make a "This is the end …" joke. Four minutes for a tag-team title match? Really? Teaming R-Truth and Morrison made about as much sense as having T-Pain sing with the remaining Doors.
0:11: We see a WrestleMania Week montage. That's right, WrestleMania Week (http://www.wwe.com/inside/news/wrestlemania25eventsofweek/). They have a charity golf tournament, an art exhibit, a Hall of Fame induction ceremony, a reading challenge, even a Fan Experience setup called Wrestling Axxess (http://www.wwe.com/shows/wrestlemania/history/2009/wrestlemania25axxess/attractions/) where you can get autographs, buy memorabilia, learn wrestling moves, visit the Undertaker's graveyard, walk down a WWE entrance ramp with your own music playing (OK, that sounds cool), get photos taken with WWE divas and try HGH for the first time. (Note: I made only the last thing up.) Why haven't I attended this yet? I have no idea. Seriously, I can't think of a single reason. Just the chance to play golf with Sgt. Slaughter alone should have gotten me on an airplane. Maybe next year.
0:12: Time for a "triple-threat match" with three legacy kids: Ted DiBiase (son of the Million Dollar Man, although he refuses to go with a "Jr."), Cody Rhodes (son of Dusty, although you wouldn't know, because he doesn't have a white perm, a pot belly and 38DDs) and Randy Orton (son of Cowboy Bob, and a decent bet for a Shawn Michaels-type career if he ever gets his head on straight). These three used to have a gang called "Legacy" until egos imploded it. "Why not keep a cohesive, successful unit together?" an anguished Lawler wonders. I don't know, Jerry. I don't know.
0:15: DiBiase and Rhodes join forces and beat up Orton as the WWE pipes in fake booing for the first time. Am I the only one who's always wanted to see a triple-threat match in boxing or the UFC? Wouldn't this save boxing undercards?
0:20: If you had 5 minutes in the office pool for DiBiase and Rhodes turning on each other, you just won. "This works in the favor of Randy Orton," Striker tells us. Glad he's here.
0:24: The Viper (Orton) cleans house, pulls off five quality moves (including a double DDT), milks his gimmick a little (as the talented lunatic who makes weird faces, rolls his eyeballs, goes too slow and always seems like he's one meltdown away from murdering everyone in the stadium), then finishes off DiBiase with his patented RKO (a midair version of the Stone Cold Stunner). I haven't enjoyed a young wrestler who can't quite reach his considerable potential this much since Rob Van Dam. Um, not that I watch wrestling or anything.
0:32: Next up: A 10-man "Money In The Bank" ladder match (basically, a battle royal with ladders and a suitcase full of money dangling 20 feet above the ring) featuring Kofi Kingston (the best Ghanaian wrestler working today); MVP (solid name); Evan Bourne (happy to be here); Jack Swagger (this generation's flag-waving Hacksaw Jim Duggan); Shelton Benjamin (somehow still walking); Matt Hardy (ditto); Dolph Ziggler (Striker: "Perhaps the most sinister of the minds in this match"); Intercontinental champ Drew McIntyre (Striker: "Perhaps the most underhanded and egocentric competitor"); Kane (the Bruce Buffer to Undertaker's Michael Buffer); and Christian (who doesn't need a nickname or a last name). Guy who grabs the suitcase of money wins.
Striker favors Christian to win, explaining, "I cannot tell you how much that experience, how valuable that, to know what it's like to climb that ladder, to know what it's like to incapacitate your opponent, to render him useless and climb your ladder on the way to destiny." Perhaps Striker should stop talking.
0:35: Just an FYI: I love ladder matches. The creator of this idea ranks right up there with the creator of the NBA shot clock and the guy who wondered why NFL goalposts shouldn't be moved to the back of the end zone.
0:37: But seriously, you have to love any sporting event that leads someone to scream, "This is a great opportunity for Dolph Ziggler!"
0:39: Update: three ladders now in the ring, at least 12 "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"s from the crowd (and counting), and Cole just used the phrase "ladder sandwich." I'm having fun. I'm not gonna lie.
0:43: Effective use of split-screen there: They showed a replay of Ziggler getting knocked out of the ring in Screen 2 as Kane was choke-slamming Ziggler onto a ladder on Screen 1. So if you're scoring at home, the WWE pulls off split-screens with ease during live events with 10 wrestlers, three ladders and eight things happening at once, yet CBS can't figure out how to put two March Madness games on the same screen.
0:45: Funniest running plot of ladder matches: when someone climbs the ladder without realizing that nobody is close enough to stop him, so he has to slow down dramatically to give them time to catch up. Or as it's more commonly known, Rasheed Wallace speed.
0:48: Our winner? "The All-American American," Jack Swagger. No, really. That's his nickname. He gets a title shot within the next year. The crowd seems confused.
0:50: Striker follows a promo for the April 25 "Extreme Rules" pay-per-view by explaining, "Every match is extreme rules -- certainly a night to be seeing, extreme rules." Maybe you oughta stop talking for a while, Champ.
0:53: Our 2010 WWE Hall of Fame Class: Gorgeous George, Stu Hart, Mad Dog Vachon, Wendi Richter, Antonio Inoki, Bob Uecker and Ted DiBiase. During the montage from the ceremony, we learn that DiBiase's speech ended with him screaming "Everybody's got a price!" as money fell from the ceiling and DiBiase cackled like crazy. This is definitely what Michael Jordan should have done in September.
(Random note: Imagine if wrestling Hall of Fame inductions were scrutinized like baseball inductions? Just scores of sabermetricians skewering DiBiase's credentials with new-wave stats, then arguing that Rick Rude had a much better case. And what about Bob Uecker becoming the first guy to make the WWE and baseball Halls of Fame before Pete Rose? What were the odds on this in 1985? One million to one?)
0:55: The Hall of Famers get introduced live to the crowd. (The highlight: Vachon raising his arms like a mad dog and pretending to growl at everyone, even though he's in a wheelchair. That killed me.) Why doesn't the WWE Hall of Fame actually exist yet? Like people wouldn't go there? Come on.
1:00: Next up: Triple H (longtime WWE superstar, married Vince McMahon's daughter in real life, also goes by "The Game") against Sheamus (the first-ever WWE champ from Ireland, redheaded, pasty, temperamental, not a stereotype at all). No titles on the line. My favorite true Sheamus fact: he started using the nickname "The Irish Curse." Now that's comedy. Today, he goes by "The Celtic Warrior," and as Striker tells us, "Sheamus is the product of years of a strong, proud, pure Irish bloodline." Is this the Westminster dog show?
1:04: The staggering first-year success of Sheamus reminds me that we desperately need a WWE wrestler named "Masshole." Just a beefy troublemaker from Boston with a kicking accent who comes out to Aerosmith music while spitting Skoal juice into a red cup, takes everything personally, wears Boston jerseys, feuds with anyone from New York and has a finishing move called "The Sucker Punch." This wouldn't be a huge hit?
1:08: Striker successfully uses the word "apex."
1:12: Some sad news: After nearly two decades of top-notch wrestling, Triple H is edging dangerously close to the Hulk Hogan Mammary Zone, when great pecs suddenly morph into what look to be bad breast implants, depending on the position of the wrestler's body. Also, I just tried to detach my own retinas with an apple peeler.
1:17: Triple H pins Sheamus. Half-decent match that seemed rushed. That doesn't stop Striker from calling it "a classic" and gushing, "The triumph of wills, the triumph of spirit, the triumph of Triple H!" He's worse than Lord Alfred Hayes, Dusty Rhodes and Steve McMichael combined. If there was a God, he'd be fixing a headset cord under the Spanish announcers' table tonight right as two wrestlers plunged through it.
1:24: The setup for the Rey Mysterio-CM Punk match involves Rey's 9-year-old daughter and a birthday party gone horribly wrong. I'll spare you the details. Just know that I enjoy CM Punk's gimmick: He's the self-proclaimed savior of a world in which wrestlers act with integrity and remain drug-free. His entrance speech got the crowd inordinately riled up; they just showed a 14-year-old fan jeering him and giving him two passionate thumbs down How dare you tell us that our wrestlers can't use drugs! YOU NEED TO GO DOWN!
1:27: If Rey loses tonight, he has to join CM Punk's Straight Edge-Society. But as Cole points out, "It's much more personal. It's about basically being called a coward in front of your entire family." So there's that.
1:33: CM Punk's tattoos have me thinking about the biggest differences between wrestling now versus when I loved it most in the '80s. My top 26 in no particular order: (1) tattoos; (2) no more signature managers; (3) more finishing moves with definable names; (4) six times as many belts and title changes per year; (5) 10 times as many hot chicks who may or may not have an amateur porn background; (6) better interviews; (7) worse announcers; (8) more guys who seem like they might be, um, doctoring their training; (9) better TV production; (10) better ideas for gimmick matches; (11) tag teams being allowed to succeed even if they don't have a catchy name or gimmick; (12) exploitation of own real-life family now allowed and encouraged; (13) everyone gets their own specially made entrance song; (14) WWE.com; (15) Internet clips; (16) wrestling blogs; (17) message boards; (18) pay-per-views that cost more than a dinner date for two; (19) infinitely more daring matches and aerial moves; (20) better video games; and … crap, I couldn't get to XXVI. A noble effort, though.
1:34: Rey escapes with a pin as Striker yelps, "Daddy's coming home!" I can't figure out a way to mute him. I've tried everything.
I wanted to watch Shawn Michaels' last match at WrestleMania XXVI. Unfortunately, the event cost $54 on pay-per-view. If you ordered it in HD, it cost $64. I thought this was amazing. Sixty-four dollars??? That's six "Max and Ruby" DVDs! (Note: In the old days, I would have joked, "That's three cases of beer!" Shoot me.) I already feel bad enough about still kinda-sorta-just-a-little-bit following professional wrestling, but having that $64 order show up on my DirecTV bill was a signed confession telling the Sports Gal, "You married an enormous loser."
Then I remembered something …
If I wrote a running diary for ESPN.com, I could write off that $64 as a "work expense." Even better, I could tell my wife that "I had to watch this for work." Woohoo! I spared her the ignominy of watching it live Sunday night, waiting until Monday morning to watch it by myself on DVR. Here's a running diary of what transpired …
0:00: We're coming to you (not) live from Glendale, Ariz.! The WWE somehow packed 72,000 fans into the Cardinals' football stadium. I have only been there once. Super Bowl XLII. Helmet Catch. Giants 17, Pats 14. Let's move on. Our announcers: Michael Cole, Jerry "The King" Lawler and Matt "I Can't Believe A Porn Star Hasn't Used This Fake Name Yet" Striker.
0:01: For our first match, tag-team championship belts are on the line: R-Truth (a rapper/wrestler) and John Morrison (an entertaining Jim Morrison ripoff) challenging the champs, The Big Show and The Miz (carrying two belts apiece, for some reason). R-Truth came out prancing and singing his hit song, "What's Up?" The lyrics go like this: "Shshshn cnbcnsbdb fhdehsh fhdhs dhdhan dbdjdndjd dbdbdbdbdb shshsnhs ffrhdhhjs xbcxbbffgfhhj WHAT'S UP? WHAT'S UP? WHAT'S UP? WHAT'S UP?" I don't think he wrote that one with Burt Bacharach and Carly Simon.
0:03: Our first shot of tonight's Spanish announcers: Hugo Savinovich and Carlos Cabrera. Someone will be thrown through their table tonight. Oh, yes.
0:05: Miz and Morrison start off the match. According to Cole, they were former buddies and tag-team partners until they had a falling-out. (What? That never happens!) I continue to be dumbfounded that The Miz -- once upon a time a skinny "Real World: New York" roommate named Mike who referred to himself as "The Miz" and cracked his housemates up with fake wrestling speeches, then went on to a moderately successful "Real World/Road Rules Challenge" guy as he continued to refer to himself as "The Miz" -- somehow became a WWE tag-team champion named "The Miz." This is like Darryl Strawberry winning "Celebrity Apprentice," then becoming a Fortune 500 CEO.
0:06: Cole tries to claim that Big Show is 486 pounds and seven feet tall. All wrestling heights/weights get bumped by 14.3 percent. It's just the rule. By the way, it continues to bother me that Big Show wears the black tights with straps over both shoulders as opposed to the single strap. All giants should wear a single strap. You hear me? One strap!
0:09: Big Show pins Morrison as I fight off the urge to make a "This is the end …" joke. Four minutes for a tag-team title match? Really? Teaming R-Truth and Morrison made about as much sense as having T-Pain sing with the remaining Doors.
0:11: We see a WrestleMania Week montage. That's right, WrestleMania Week (http://www.wwe.com/inside/news/wrestlemania25eventsofweek/). They have a charity golf tournament, an art exhibit, a Hall of Fame induction ceremony, a reading challenge, even a Fan Experience setup called Wrestling Axxess (http://www.wwe.com/shows/wrestlemania/history/2009/wrestlemania25axxess/attractions/) where you can get autographs, buy memorabilia, learn wrestling moves, visit the Undertaker's graveyard, walk down a WWE entrance ramp with your own music playing (OK, that sounds cool), get photos taken with WWE divas and try HGH for the first time. (Note: I made only the last thing up.) Why haven't I attended this yet? I have no idea. Seriously, I can't think of a single reason. Just the chance to play golf with Sgt. Slaughter alone should have gotten me on an airplane. Maybe next year.
0:12: Time for a "triple-threat match" with three legacy kids: Ted DiBiase (son of the Million Dollar Man, although he refuses to go with a "Jr."), Cody Rhodes (son of Dusty, although you wouldn't know, because he doesn't have a white perm, a pot belly and 38DDs) and Randy Orton (son of Cowboy Bob, and a decent bet for a Shawn Michaels-type career if he ever gets his head on straight). These three used to have a gang called "Legacy" until egos imploded it. "Why not keep a cohesive, successful unit together?" an anguished Lawler wonders. I don't know, Jerry. I don't know.
0:15: DiBiase and Rhodes join forces and beat up Orton as the WWE pipes in fake booing for the first time. Am I the only one who's always wanted to see a triple-threat match in boxing or the UFC? Wouldn't this save boxing undercards?
0:20: If you had 5 minutes in the office pool for DiBiase and Rhodes turning on each other, you just won. "This works in the favor of Randy Orton," Striker tells us. Glad he's here.
0:24: The Viper (Orton) cleans house, pulls off five quality moves (including a double DDT), milks his gimmick a little (as the talented lunatic who makes weird faces, rolls his eyeballs, goes too slow and always seems like he's one meltdown away from murdering everyone in the stadium), then finishes off DiBiase with his patented RKO (a midair version of the Stone Cold Stunner). I haven't enjoyed a young wrestler who can't quite reach his considerable potential this much since Rob Van Dam. Um, not that I watch wrestling or anything.
0:32: Next up: A 10-man "Money In The Bank" ladder match (basically, a battle royal with ladders and a suitcase full of money dangling 20 feet above the ring) featuring Kofi Kingston (the best Ghanaian wrestler working today); MVP (solid name); Evan Bourne (happy to be here); Jack Swagger (this generation's flag-waving Hacksaw Jim Duggan); Shelton Benjamin (somehow still walking); Matt Hardy (ditto); Dolph Ziggler (Striker: "Perhaps the most sinister of the minds in this match"); Intercontinental champ Drew McIntyre (Striker: "Perhaps the most underhanded and egocentric competitor"); Kane (the Bruce Buffer to Undertaker's Michael Buffer); and Christian (who doesn't need a nickname or a last name). Guy who grabs the suitcase of money wins.
Striker favors Christian to win, explaining, "I cannot tell you how much that experience, how valuable that, to know what it's like to climb that ladder, to know what it's like to incapacitate your opponent, to render him useless and climb your ladder on the way to destiny." Perhaps Striker should stop talking.
0:35: Just an FYI: I love ladder matches. The creator of this idea ranks right up there with the creator of the NBA shot clock and the guy who wondered why NFL goalposts shouldn't be moved to the back of the end zone.
0:37: But seriously, you have to love any sporting event that leads someone to scream, "This is a great opportunity for Dolph Ziggler!"
0:39: Update: three ladders now in the ring, at least 12 "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"s from the crowd (and counting), and Cole just used the phrase "ladder sandwich." I'm having fun. I'm not gonna lie.
0:43: Effective use of split-screen there: They showed a replay of Ziggler getting knocked out of the ring in Screen 2 as Kane was choke-slamming Ziggler onto a ladder on Screen 1. So if you're scoring at home, the WWE pulls off split-screens with ease during live events with 10 wrestlers, three ladders and eight things happening at once, yet CBS can't figure out how to put two March Madness games on the same screen.
0:45: Funniest running plot of ladder matches: when someone climbs the ladder without realizing that nobody is close enough to stop him, so he has to slow down dramatically to give them time to catch up. Or as it's more commonly known, Rasheed Wallace speed.
0:48: Our winner? "The All-American American," Jack Swagger. No, really. That's his nickname. He gets a title shot within the next year. The crowd seems confused.
0:50: Striker follows a promo for the April 25 "Extreme Rules" pay-per-view by explaining, "Every match is extreme rules -- certainly a night to be seeing, extreme rules." Maybe you oughta stop talking for a while, Champ.
0:53: Our 2010 WWE Hall of Fame Class: Gorgeous George, Stu Hart, Mad Dog Vachon, Wendi Richter, Antonio Inoki, Bob Uecker and Ted DiBiase. During the montage from the ceremony, we learn that DiBiase's speech ended with him screaming "Everybody's got a price!" as money fell from the ceiling and DiBiase cackled like crazy. This is definitely what Michael Jordan should have done in September.
(Random note: Imagine if wrestling Hall of Fame inductions were scrutinized like baseball inductions? Just scores of sabermetricians skewering DiBiase's credentials with new-wave stats, then arguing that Rick Rude had a much better case. And what about Bob Uecker becoming the first guy to make the WWE and baseball Halls of Fame before Pete Rose? What were the odds on this in 1985? One million to one?)
0:55: The Hall of Famers get introduced live to the crowd. (The highlight: Vachon raising his arms like a mad dog and pretending to growl at everyone, even though he's in a wheelchair. That killed me.) Why doesn't the WWE Hall of Fame actually exist yet? Like people wouldn't go there? Come on.
1:00: Next up: Triple H (longtime WWE superstar, married Vince McMahon's daughter in real life, also goes by "The Game") against Sheamus (the first-ever WWE champ from Ireland, redheaded, pasty, temperamental, not a stereotype at all). No titles on the line. My favorite true Sheamus fact: he started using the nickname "The Irish Curse." Now that's comedy. Today, he goes by "The Celtic Warrior," and as Striker tells us, "Sheamus is the product of years of a strong, proud, pure Irish bloodline." Is this the Westminster dog show?
1:04: The staggering first-year success of Sheamus reminds me that we desperately need a WWE wrestler named "Masshole." Just a beefy troublemaker from Boston with a kicking accent who comes out to Aerosmith music while spitting Skoal juice into a red cup, takes everything personally, wears Boston jerseys, feuds with anyone from New York and has a finishing move called "The Sucker Punch." This wouldn't be a huge hit?
1:08: Striker successfully uses the word "apex."
1:12: Some sad news: After nearly two decades of top-notch wrestling, Triple H is edging dangerously close to the Hulk Hogan Mammary Zone, when great pecs suddenly morph into what look to be bad breast implants, depending on the position of the wrestler's body. Also, I just tried to detach my own retinas with an apple peeler.
1:17: Triple H pins Sheamus. Half-decent match that seemed rushed. That doesn't stop Striker from calling it "a classic" and gushing, "The triumph of wills, the triumph of spirit, the triumph of Triple H!" He's worse than Lord Alfred Hayes, Dusty Rhodes and Steve McMichael combined. If there was a God, he'd be fixing a headset cord under the Spanish announcers' table tonight right as two wrestlers plunged through it.
1:24: The setup for the Rey Mysterio-CM Punk match involves Rey's 9-year-old daughter and a birthday party gone horribly wrong. I'll spare you the details. Just know that I enjoy CM Punk's gimmick: He's the self-proclaimed savior of a world in which wrestlers act with integrity and remain drug-free. His entrance speech got the crowd inordinately riled up; they just showed a 14-year-old fan jeering him and giving him two passionate thumbs down How dare you tell us that our wrestlers can't use drugs! YOU NEED TO GO DOWN!
1:27: If Rey loses tonight, he has to join CM Punk's Straight Edge-Society. But as Cole points out, "It's much more personal. It's about basically being called a coward in front of your entire family." So there's that.
1:33: CM Punk's tattoos have me thinking about the biggest differences between wrestling now versus when I loved it most in the '80s. My top 26 in no particular order: (1) tattoos; (2) no more signature managers; (3) more finishing moves with definable names; (4) six times as many belts and title changes per year; (5) 10 times as many hot chicks who may or may not have an amateur porn background; (6) better interviews; (7) worse announcers; (8) more guys who seem like they might be, um, doctoring their training; (9) better TV production; (10) better ideas for gimmick matches; (11) tag teams being allowed to succeed even if they don't have a catchy name or gimmick; (12) exploitation of own real-life family now allowed and encouraged; (13) everyone gets their own specially made entrance song; (14) WWE.com; (15) Internet clips; (16) wrestling blogs; (17) message boards; (18) pay-per-views that cost more than a dinner date for two; (19) infinitely more daring matches and aerial moves; (20) better video games; and … crap, I couldn't get to XXVI. A noble effort, though.
1:34: Rey escapes with a pin as Striker yelps, "Daddy's coming home!" I can't figure out a way to mute him. I've tried everything.