WCW Saturday Night - 07/10/1999

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What Worked:

Steve Fucking Regal is enough to make me forget about women's soccer.
Especially when Messuers Finlay and Taylor come out with him as he fixes to
pound Adrian "Hard Work" Byrd. Early mat exhibition stuff, with Regal milking
the crowd. Byrd almost keeps up with the retro mat game and Regal comic sells
and it's fun. Then Regal tosses Byrd out and his cohorts Jack Victory the young
lion. Back in the ring, Regal roughs up the kid in the corner, and then, after
a spot of vanilla offense from Adrian, catches him coming off the ropes with a
vicious single leg takedown (I had no idea there could be such a thing).
Beautiful squash that felt competitive as I watched, which is high praise that
can be doled out all too rarely.

The Armstrongs are Born To Do It! Disorderly Conduct is back in lavender! Their
whitehot Worldwide feud resumes once more on the Superstation, and it's all so
very southern. Nifty 1985 doubleteams from the Armstrongs, DC plays MOD Squad
in Central States, etc. Commercial in the middle distracts. But what was here
was very crisp and energetic, though I did tune out to watch the penalty kicks
and such.

Well, Kaz Hayashi getting to carry Evan Karagias goes a long way toward Japan
repaying thei post WW2 debt to the US. Evan’s limitations are hidden somewhat
in tag competition, which I appreciate. Lodi and Lenny might be too vanilla to
be the gay tag team; compare their flamboyance to much of the Toryumon troupe,
and it’s found wanting. None of the doubleteams from Lodi/Lane were all that
interesting, but a stiff kick from Kaz and an old-school doubleteam finish from
the faces allow me to put this match up here in good conscience.

Benoit, Malenko, Saturn. Juvi, Chavito, Psicosis. Tricked out mat stuff
between Chavo and Dean early on. sets the tone for this exquisite six-man that
goes beyond the predictable gambit of showcasing the marquee folks on both
teams. There was very little to complain about here, except that this got eight
minutes when it deserved thrice that: especially notable was the heat segment
on Saturn (highlighted, again, by the work of the underrated and underused
Chavito) and the gorgeous finishing sequence between Psicosis and Benoit. As
this was, this was at least a *** match. Given proper time this could’ve been
right up there with anything we’ve seen this lean year from Japan; these
workers are that good, that interested on working wrestling matches.

What Didn't Work

Ah, Al Green and Van Hammer. Van Hammer is a big reason I'm not ordering
tomorrow's PPV. This was torpid, loose, fake crap. Hammer's legdrop from the
top rope was telegraphed as if demonstration footage from Secrets of Pro
Wrestling. When big goofs like Hammer are pushed (cf. WWF's Crush; Nord The
Barbarian in the AWA) it signals that a promotion is mired in a creative
morass.

Disciple V Bobby Blaze. Blaze hit the worst front kick I've seen in quite some
time. Disciple with a DDT in which Blaze's head didn't come within nine inches
of the canvas. There were maybe eight moves or striking blows in this one, and
the majority exposed the business. Blaze flounced around the ring as if
someone had recently amputated his genitals. Disciple with a new six dollar
haircut. I wonder if Bobby Blaze is a loner on the road, the sort of guy who
spends a lot of time in his motel room with his Gideon Bible and a box of
Cookie Crisp. I think the answer’s yes.

Cavalcade of crap continues as Jim Duggan and Ernest Miller work a match
together. Hudson talks about the media hordes clamoring to interview Nash and
Savage. It’s important to point out that the top three matches in this column
happened one after another, as if booked by someone with a talent for parody
and an obliviousness to Mother Workrate. I guess I can tell you here that I’m
pretty stoked about seeing Orbital on Tuesday and Manic Street Preachers in
Atlanta on Thursday. I suppose this is also a good time to mention that it’s
entirely possible that I might give up writing this report altogether if Ernest
Miller continues to pursue his undoubtedly lucratuve career in the graps game.
I wonder when Jim Duggan last sold a reverse chinlock or any other resthold,
and find it ironic that this fat fuck requires restholds early and often in his
matches yet just bugs his eyes out as they happen. I’ll give Duggan credit
though; he sells kicks pretty well, crumpling to the mat in a surprisingly
realistic manner. Of course, there’s a runin by Disco at the end, as neither of
these workers could possibly job clean and risk losing all the respect they
have from serious wrestling fans.

Brian Knobbs squashes Knuckles Zanwich. Zanwich, like Hard Work Ade Byrd,
Bobby Walker, and Disorderly Conduct, wore purple trunks. I guess purple trunks
are how WCW distinguishes itinerants working for an hourly wage for payroll
purposes.

The Windhams take on Rey and Konnan. Rey and Konnan live la vida loca on the
stick, because these are hard times yo, and you gotta get over. This goes down
here because the Windhams’ doubleteams suck, because Konnan’s offense is looser
than Eric Watts’ jeans, and because Rey’s houseafire was completely by numbers.
Decent belly-to-back from the second rope by Kendall provides a glimpse of
innovation and pride in craft, at least. Runin finish, to build up the PPV.