Fall 1: The match starts off with a feeling out period. Funk waistlocks
Brisco and Brisco sits out. In similar fashion, they exchange fireman’s
carries, hiptosses, et al, moving on to a series of hammerlocks and
reversals. This period – a couple of minutes – is essential, old-style
psychology, establishing the terms upon which the match/story can and
will proceed.

After the hammerlock sequence, Funk hiptosses Brisco and holds him on
the mat with a side headlock. Note that this isn’t a rest hold here;
Funk cinches down, Brisco attempts an escape, eventually countering
with a chinlock and maneuvering Funk into a neck vise. But Funk’s
leverage is too strong, and he maintains the side headlock as he
rassumes a standing position.

Brisco attempts to power out and removes Funk’s arm, maneuvering him
into a top wristlock. He works Funk to the mat and grinds an armbar onto
him. Funk’s attempts to tumble out are fruitless here, as Brisco works
the armbar further. He fails to work it into a stepover, and Funk powers
up. Dory Irish Whips Jack into the rope, and while Jack runs the ring,
Dory steps in behind him and uses his momentum to roll him up for a
two-count. Jack kicks out.

When both men are in a standing position, the lightning-quick Brisco
hits Funk with a vicious armdrag takedown. Order is restored as the
armbar is reapplied.

The crowd knows enough to pop.

At this point, the psychology of so-called rest holds is accepted as a
chance for the held wrestler – Funk at this point – to plot his next
move. Zbyszko’s Human Chess Dictum sounds so hollow to new fans because
they can only conceive of defense, offense, and reversals (which are
certainly part of wrestling, but are hollow without the intellectual
element Funk and Brisco bring to the table).

Funk works his way to a standing position, leveling the armbar and
ameliorating the leverage enough to whip Brisco into the ropes. Brisco
fires off, shoulder-blocks Funk to the canvas. Funk is up. Another
armdrag by Brisco, but Funk thwarts the armbar with an attempted
headscissors.

Both men to their feet. Brisco – again! -- with an armdrag, and this
time he cinches the armbar in. He works Funk onto his belly, and leans
into the armlock, pounding the shoulder to accentuate the damage. Funk
powers over onto his back once more, as Brisco works his prone opponent
into a hammerlock. He cradles his other arm around the back of Funk’s
neck, suggesting a pinfall attempt (though Funk’s shoulders are not down
at this point per se). Soon enough they are though, for a one count.
Funk lifts his shoulder, forcing Brisco to work into a crouch for
further leverage on the hammerlock. Another one count. Funk is forced to
bridge out.

Funk rolls over, powers to a standing base, and escapes the hammerlock
entirely with a leg trip. Smooth transition into a leglock, which hints
at Spinning Toeholds to come. Brisco sells his agony as Funk wrenches
in. Funk works into an STF. Brisco close to the ropes, but not making a
move to the forced break (preferring instead to maneuver out of the
hold? pride in craft?); it occurs to me that I’d enjoy seeing Dory
stretch young Erik Watts. Brisco looks ready to concede the fall, but
Jacks up and powers out of the STF in a manner of speaking (Brisco here
is on his hands and knees, still supporting Funk’s weight).

But Dory is the Master Manipulator.

Of joints, I mean. A swift knee to the back of Jack’s leg returns Brisco
to a prone position on the mat. Funk works into an armbar, bracing his
foot on the inside of Brisco’s thigh. He furthers his advantage with a
rear chinlock that suggests the Camel Clutch.

But Brisco powers out. Up to a vertical base, with Funk grapevining his
legs around Jack’s torso, with Funk maintaining a rear chinlock; it
doesn’t matter. Brisco backs into a corner, forcing a break, leaving
Funk standing on the bottom rope.

Arguably, the roles of the combatants are established there. Funk the
superior technician, Brisco willing to use ring wiles as a substitute
for his (relative) paucity of technical skills.

A clean break occasions a smattering of applause, and finds Brisco
holding his lower back as he staggers around the ring, catching his
breath, eschewing the inevitable lockup.

Funk goes on the offense, diving for Brisco’s knees; Jack barely
sidesteps. Funk blinks, backs off, and extends his hand to Brisco for a
tension-laden handshake. Brisco immediately starts dancing backwards,
but Funk is all forward motion, his eyes intense, his countenance
intent. He senses weakness. Collar and elbow tie-up, and Funk backs
Brisco into the corner in short order. Brisco immediately taps Funk on
the shoulder to encourage the clean break; Funk’s compliance here
abetted by the presence of the attentive NWA official.

Collar and elbow in center ring. Brisco, quick to the advantage,
wrenches Dory into a standing side headlock. Funk attempts to escape by
jamming his forearm against Brisco’s face, but he can’t attain
sufficient leverage. Side headlock maintained. Funk attempts an Irish
whip but is thwarted, as Brisco wrenches down on the side headlock.

(And here is why the old school is the best school. Everything in this
match correlates with the laws of physics and the Aristotlean unities. A
side headlock, grist for Boring chants on Nitro when attempted by hacks
like Hammer and Horace, is imbued with the deepest of significances.)

Brisco continues to bear down on the headlock, forcing his advantage on
Funk, whose arms dangle limply at this point. Funk drops to one knee;
Brisco grinds and grinds. Funk back to two feet, then drops to a knee
again. Finally, he makes his way to his feet again, grabbing a Brisco
knee and hoisting him for a kneebreaker.

Brisco sells the counter like a baseball bat shot to the patella, but
manages – nonetheless – to maintain the advantage of the side headlock
here (Brisco sitting; Funk on his stomach, again, until he manages to
power up to a standing base). Funk is, again, thwarted in his attempts
to whip Brisco into a rope, and drops to one knee again.

Funk makes some headway with a forearm to the kidney, and follows up
with a low back suplex (low as in there was no elevation whatsoever, and
the arc was akin to that of a Russian Leg Sweep). Both men are shaken by
the impact here, and struggle to their feet.

Brisco beats Funk to a standing position by half a second, and locks his
arm around Funk’s skull once more. Funk drops to a knee again, but wraps
his arm around Brisco’s leg, suggesting the earlier kneebreaker and his
feared submission hold all at once. Brisco senses danger, and tries to
back out – to no avail. Then he forces his advantage once more with a
series of stiff elbows to Dory’s cranium, breaking Funk’s grip around
his upper leg. The side headlock is maintained, and Funk, still, is on
one knee, unable even to stand upright. Such is leverage, after all.

But Funk sees a way out. He uses his position to maneuver Brisco to a
prone position, and though Jack has the side headlock still, Funk is
above Jack and able to balance his weight on Brisco’s torso. He forces
his forearm against the side of Jack’s skull and maneuvers him into a
front chancery, eventually gaining advantage.

Brisco makes his way to a standing position, attempting to work his way
out of his predicament. But no dice – until Funk snapmares Brisco to the
mat. Brisco is up quickly; Funk attempts a snapmare again, but Jack
shifts his weight and backslides his opponent. 2 Count. Funk slides out,
and Jack backs off to the crowd’s delight.

The look on Funk’s face here is priceless, as he sells the importance of
a pinfall by looking entirely disgruntled at almost going down for a
three.

Funk backpedals as Brisco approaches, bearing down as Funk was earlier
on. Funk extends his hand tentatively; no handshake from Brisco. Collar
and elbow, Brisco backs Funk into the ropes, but doesn’t break. Brisco
whips Funk into the opposite ropes; Funk comes back with a
shoulder-block. Funk runs at a dazed Brisco, just making his way to his
feet, but the enterprising Oklahoman counters with a high beal (and one
can see that Steamboat ripped so much of the highlights of his mat game
off of the former NWA Champ). Funk gets back to his feet, and Brisco
attempts another beal.

But the beal is blocked. Funk with a backslide for two. Brisco slides
out, and the gladiators face off in a crouching position, glaring at
each other balefully.

Handshake. Collar and elbow. Brisco backs Funk into the corner, and
breaks cleanly even as he balls up his fists. The wrestlers square off,
circling the ring, never taking their eyes off each other. Collar and
elbow again, and Funk with a grapevine leg takedown, forcing the
advantage, getting two counts on the prone Brisco even as he wears down
the knee.

Brisco powers to a sitting position, but fails to ameliorate the
leverage. Funk combines the leglock with a rear chinlock variation,
echoing the earlier STF. Brisco powers out of the chinlock, but the
problem of the leglock is not solved. Brisco to a standing position, but
Funk’s legs are clamped against the flesh of Brisco’s calf even as they
press against the inside of Brisco’s knee. Brisco, overcome by the pain,
flops to the canvas. This sequence repeats, and Brisco flops to the mat
again. Funk, sensing an imminent fall, presses Brisco for 2. The
leglock is a memory, as Funk attempts to press Brisco’s shoulders to the
mat.

The Oklahoman, however, powers out with a textbook bridge, and works
Funk into a de facto test of strength. Thus Brisco is able to power out,
forcing Funk into a standing wristlock. Funk drops to his knees, powers
back up, and then monkey flips Brisco. The Texan attempts to backwards
somersault into a cover, but Brisco immediately clamps his legs around
his torso, effectively countering the pin with a textbook body scissors.

Meanwhile, in WCW, Sid Eudy gets another chance to showstop.

Funk close to ropes, but Brisco rolls him toward the center of the ring.
This can’t be regarded as a serious bid for submission on Jack’s part
though, as Funk works his way to a sitting position and armbars Brisco
even as Jack maintains the bodyscissors. Brisco counters by grabbing
Funk’s chin and pulling Funk back to the mat. At least, for a moment.

Funk wiggles, and powers his weight onto Brisco’s chest, using his hands
to press Jack’s shoulders to the mat. A couple of two counts, and Jack
eases up on the scissors. Funk, finally, to a vertical base again,
controlling Jack’s legs, poised to turn him over into a Boston Crab.

And sure enough, that’s the direction Dory’s mind is headed in as well.
He jerks Brisco partway into the submission position, and the crowd
comes to life. Jack wiggles toward the ropes, knocking Funk off balance,
enabling him to escape with one gargantuan twist of his body.

Brisco is shaken, though, and Funk won’t be deterred. Dory with a quick
double leg takedown, as his mind is set on the Crab submission for the
critical first fall. He’s so close to having it wrenched in, and the
visual effect is similar indeed to that of the Benoit/Jericho
"Liontamer" variation. But once again, Jack wrenches his body, hurling
his assailant across the ring.

A wobbly Brisco struggles to his feet, selling his back for all he’s
worth. Funk quickly locks him into a bearhug, but remembers the match
psychology and presses his forearms against Brisco’s kidney region. It’s
all Brisco can do to backpedal into the ropes.

But backpedal he does. A Funk clean break inspires applause, and he
backs away, his unruffled demeanor in sharp contrast to the visage of
the wincing, pain-racked Oklahoman. The wrestlers circle the ring, Jack
stretching his arms to loosen his muscles. Brisco still backpedaling,
shying away from Funk’s handshake. Nevertheless Funk grabs Brisco’s arm,
then arms, and Brisco is easy game for a back suplex. One count, Brisco
bridge, and the Texan buffaloes Brisco into the corner. After some
hesitation on both men’s parts, another clean break. Another smattering
of applause.

The men circle each other once more, gladiators locked in a timeless
clash of mind and body. One is reminded here of Rasmussen’s assertion
about Finlay/Regal matches; the matches, Dean claims, exist only for the
in ring combatants. They couldn’t give a fuck about the audience. And
here, even with an enraptured crowd as pure antithesis to the catatonic
throngs that greeted the Euro stiffness of the aforementioned
technicians, one suspects the same is true: that the greatness of this
match, of these wrestlers, is predicated on the assertion that the
in-ring action is fueled by a strictly internal logic, unbeholden to the
dreary, nihilistic dicta of "popping the house", "puppies", or "getting
heat". This, Cru fans, is pride in craft.

Collar and elbow. Funk with a side headlock, into a hammerlock. Funk
behind Brisco now, working a single-leg takedown. Brisco face down now,
sucking wind and eating canvas. Funk maintains the hammerlock here,
grinding Brisco’s other arm into the mat, forcing a series of two
counts. Brisco attempts to flip out of this pinning predicament, but the
pain and laws of physics relegate him to his temporary plight.

Funk presses his advantage, pulling Brisco to his knees, maintaining
armbars from the backside, forcing Jack into a surfboard. Funk jams his
knee flush against Jack’s neck, pressing against the bottom of Brisco’s
skull. Great, subtle camera work here, as Brisco in agony reminds me of
Jesus Christ – if Christ could work five star matches in his sleep. Jack
powers to his feet, and Dory half-heartedly presses the sole of his boot
against Brisco’s lumbar region. But the story here is that Brisco is
stronger than Funk, and it’s therefore not terribly surprising that
Brisco powers up to a standing base.

Both men here with wristlocks, dueling for the supremacy that is
superior leverage. Brisco’s superior power allows him to maneuver Funk
into a standing surfboard, which Jack accentuates with stiff headbutts
against Dory’s spinal column. Funk to one knee, and Brisco, maintaining
the surfboard in theory, starts landing stiff knees against Funk’s
vertebrae.

But the wily Funk, as is his wont, escapes. A forward roll, then a
dropkick, and Brisco’s surfboard is no more. Dory double-underhooks the
staggering Sooner, and attempts a suplex… but Brisco widens his base and
Funk relinquishes his advantage, disgusted with his inability to get the
job done, to put his adversary’s shoulders to the mat and go up 1-0.

The wrestlers retreat to neutral corners again, and circle the ring. No
falls yet and both workers look physically diminished, spent by
conflict’s attrition. They take their time before perfunctorily slapping
hands again. Collar and elbow, Funk with a hiptoss, and a side headlock.
Brisco, desperate for escape, starts forearming the Texan’s kidneys.
Funk loosens his grip, and Brisco fires Funk into the opposite ropes. .
.. only to be shoulderblocked to the canvas. Funk comes off the ropes
again, charging his adversary; but Brisco dodges him with a leapfrog,
and then nails him with a dropkick.

Funk hits the deck, flailing. Yet Funk channels his reserves, and
charges Brisco again… only to be hiptossed and side-headlocked once
more. Brisco works an armbar, jamming his knees into Funk’s restrined
limb. But the cocky Brisco forgets to wrestle defensively, and finds
himself easy prey for a body-scissors and a subsequent two count. Funk
shifts positions, legbarring Brisco’s arms into a crucifiction pose,
then shits again and wrenches Brisco’s right arm at a right angle behind
his back while short-arm scissoring his left. One can imagine that there
are in fact 1000 pro-wrestling moves, and 1000 counters, watching the
artistry that Dory Funk weaves in this match. Simple counters, minutes
of action off side-headlocks, all leading to conflict rendered with
tension, grace, and delicacy.

Funk bears down even as Brisco looks to sit out by way of escape. But
Funk shifts to a hammerlock, causing discomfiture even as Jack powers up
to a vertical base. Jack forces Funk into the ropes, grabs him on the
rebound, and wrenches Funk into an abdominal stretch. Brisco rears back,
as the overpowered Funk seems to wilt in the grasp of the finisher. Dory
refuses to submit, but it doesn’t seem that he’s in any position to
hiptoss Brisco off of him. The referee lifts Funk’s arm once. . . twice
.. . . but Funk registers an interest in continuing the fall by not
letting his limb drop a third time. Still, Brisco is stretching Funk
here; this is no Mike Rotunda resthold here, thanks for asking. Funk
drops down, then explodes; tossing Brisco off of him with reserves he
didn’t seem to have mere seconds before.

Both men lie splayed on the mat for an instant. But Brisco is back to
his feet first, attacking the fetal Funk, driving his knee into Dory’s
back time and again. Ultimately, however, Brisco and Funk always return
to the sheer logic of mat wrestling. Brisco mounts Funk’s back, and
pulls back on his chin; yet again I’m struck by how life and death
Brisco seems when selling Funk’s offense or when working his own. Like
few other wrestlers I’ve seen, Jack Brisco seems intent on getting the
infliction of pain "over’. Brisco here with a Camel Clutch variation,
and Funk – within easy reaching distance of the ropes – refuses to reach
out. Instead, he powers to his hands and knees as the Japanese announcer
litanizes great gaijin NWA champs of the past, "Kini-ski. . . Har-ley
Race. . .Lou Thesz", figuratively embodying the Nietzschian will to
power in homage to those who had done so before him.

And with one great thrust, Dory Funk bucked Jack Brisco into the corner,
dazing him momentarily.

But Funk was too broken down and Brisco had too much left. Brisco
assaulted Funk before he fully gained his feet, jarring him with
European uppercuts, then an emphatic bodyslam. Brisco scores a two
count. Jack picks up his adversary, put him in a headlock, then a
Russian Leg Sweep for two – and a crowd pop. Stiff Brisco forearms
stagger the Texan, setting up a double leg takedown. At this point, Funk
was easy pickings for the Boston Crab, which Brisco locked on with
alacrity. The pain. The pain was enough to make Dory Funk pound the mat,
searching in vain for release. Funk in center-ring, refusing to concede
the fall, even as Brisco cinched the hold in. Funk, all at once, pushing
up out of the submission hold with yet another great thrust, rocking
Brisco – momentarily – to the canvas.

But Brisco was up all too quickly, pouncing on Funk, Funk who was
crawling ever so slowly to the refuge offered by the corner of the ring.
Brisco hoisted Funk for a deep atomic drop, the impact neither Lugered
nor Bagwelled in the slightest. 2 count, though it was damned close to
three. The audience cheering at this point, sensing resolution. Funk on
his hands and knees, struggling to his feet, a barely moving target for
a decidedly AWA elbow drop from Jack Brisco. Funk, dragged to his feet
by the Oklahoman, propped up in the corner like a bag of seed, hanging
flaccidly. A receptacle for measured forearm after measured forearm from
Brisco. Dory Funk, perhaps not worthy of that lineage of NWA Champions.
Brisco, bored with rocking Funk with forearms, cavalierly Irish Whipped
into the opposite corner.

Then another Irish Whip. But Funk reverses! Brisco staggers out of the
corner and Funk, the newly-minted aggressor, racks him with Euro
uppercuts, then a snapmare. And as a dazed Jack Brisco sits on the mat,
Dory Funk – of the legendary Funks – springs up into the air and brings
all of his weight down on his adversary’s shoulder blades. Brisco
collapses to the mat, then, a prone, quivering heap.

Funk picks him up. Double-underhooks Brisco, then hoists him skyward
with a textbook suplex. The crowd cheers lustily, then chants along:
one. . . two . . . three! First fall goes to Dory Funk at approximately
39 minutes.

Fall 2: Funk attempts to shake the champ’s hand, but Brisco’s not
having it. Collar and Elbow, and Brisco gains advantage with a standing
side headlock. Brisco cinches it in, even as Funk forearms his kidneys.
Then Funk powers out with a top wristlock. . . only to find himself
backed into a corner by the champ.

The champ does not break cleanly. Brisco lays in some brutal forearms
before reassuming the side headlock, and he reminds me here of a
frustrated Tully Blanchard (the irony of Brisco reminding me of
Steamboat in the first fall and Tully here shouldn’t escape you; Brisco
is really that good). He releases the headlock intermittently to pound
Dory with a series of elbows, then reassumes the hold as a groggy Funk
listlessly wraps his arms around Brisco, almost pastiching a waistlock.
Funk on both knees, and it takes him some time to reassume the standing
base.

Funk, again, counters with the basic, yet effective, top wrist lock.
Brisco, again, backs him into the corner (note this match’s conscious
repetition of motifs, clueing even fans unfamiliar with their ringwork
into a self-contained match psychology). Brisco with some more rough
stuff on the break, but our face challenger fires back with blows of his
own. He’s already up one fall; it’s entirely possible that he could
score another one just like that! Brisco looks the worse for wear for a
second, but this isn’t Piper/Flair; the heel gets to look credible here,
and we have a slugfest in the corner.

Funk, though, is too strong for the beleaguered champ, fighting his way
out of the corner by knocking the Oklahoman on his heels. Brisco falls
on his ass, and is reduced to begging off; perhaps I spoke too soon in
the last paragraph, as the champ does a mean Buddy Rogers as craven heel
here. Funk keeps coming, fists balled up, and it behooves Jack Brisco to
take some "me time" outside the ring on the arena floor.

Brisco teases reentry at four, but Funk is all too willing to greet him
and Brisco begs off again. Time is on the champ’s side here, one
imagines Gordon Solie saying right after asserting that a sixty minute
match is as physically draining as four football games. But Brisco’s
back in at six as Funk gives him clearance to return to the fray.

Collar and elbow, side headlock from Brisco, and the pace is picking up
here. Funk fires Brisco across the ring, and jacks his jaw with a Texas
elbow that pops the house in appreciation (and I wonder, for a second,
what Benoit/Brisco would be like if both were in their prime). Funk
yanks Jack up by his hair, and snapmares the champ to the canvas, then
follows up with a looping elbow drop. Brisco’s sucking wind here, much
like 80s Flair at the 45 minute mark (and providing legitimacy
similarly, I hasten to add).

Funk with more forearms, rocking the champ, softening him up for a scoop
and a less-than-textbook backbreaker (exhaustion almost inevitable when
you go Broadway for an hour without cheap heat bullshit). Lateral press
for two, but the crowd isn’t really fooled. Funk pulls Brisco up, and
staggers the champ with more forearm shots (these with no continental
pretensions; just stiff, legit looking shots to the jaw and the side of
the head).

And Dory Funk realizes it’s time to go for the kill.

Again, Funk with the double underhook, poised to suplex the battered
Brisco. But the champ widens his base, blocking the suplex, rendering
Funk easy prey to the Steamboatesque backslide by way of reversal: One.
.. . two . . .

And Funk slides out. The wrestlers retreat to neutral corners, sucking
air, and Brisco jabs his finger in Funk’s direction, and though I can’t
read lips I know the champ is talking smack.

Collar and elbow – no handshake THIS time. Funk with a hiptoss and a
side headlock on the mat. One count from exhaustion; Funk not even
covering the man, Brisco playing the game of attrition here – or so it
seems. Brisco celebrates reaching his feet with a forearm to the Funk
kidney. The champ backs the challenger into the rope and fires him
across the ring. Funk with a shoulderblock, and he’s still running. But
Brisco mirrors the spot from the first fall where Funk ran up behind him
for the roll-up pin attempt upon coming off the ropes. Brisco gets a one
count on the roll up, but Funk rolls through! One. . . too close to the
ropes.

The workers circle the ring yet again. Obligatory handslap before the
Collar and Elbow. Brisco with an arm drag takedown into an armbar,
echoing the work in the first couple of minutes where Jack concentrated
on the arm. Funk attempts to power out, but he doesn’t have much left in
reserve. Brisco keeps bearing down on the arm; Funk eventually makes it
to his feet and powers Brisco into the ropes – only to be shoulder
blocked to the canvas. Jack runs the ropes; Funk leapfrogs the champ,
then they collide as Brisco rebounds.

Both men collapse to the canvas, and you wonder if either of them have
enough left for any significant offense. The referee starts counting,
and both wrestlers are up at nine. Eight minutes remaining in the
contest.

Funk capitalizes on Brisco’s grogginess, jacking his jaw with more
forearms. The fourth of which causes the champ to sag to the mat, his
mouth agape and his eyes glassy. Funk follows through with an elbow
drop, and the crowd pops. Lateral press for two. Brisco to his feet, and
Funk knocks him to one knee with a stiff forearm shot. Then he senses
that the end is nigh.

Funk goes all Texas on the champ, lifting him up for a classic, old
school piledriver (which the announcer calls a brainbuster,
unaccountably). Brisco bounces off the mat, and Funk rolls him on his
back for the cover. Lateral press for two and a half, but Brisco’s foot
found the bottom rope.

Funk with an European uppercut, but Brisco fires back with a fist to the
gut. Then some blows of dubious legality to the temples of Funk. Dory
staggers backwards to the ropes, and Brisco fires his challenger across
the ring, nailing him upon his return with a grace filled flying
dropkick.

And now we go to school.

Funk, prone in the center of the ring, easy pickings for the patented
Brisco Figure-Four. This was back when the hold was protected, back when
Gordon Solie would say ominous things like, "Only one person has ever
released the figure-four". Funk’s face here a profile in agony, even as
he attempts to roll over for the now de rigueur reversal. And just as he
reaches the threshold, the resourceful NWA champ grabs the rope to
thwart Funk’s gambit, making the submission academic. And thus, the
match is even at one fall a piece.

Fall 3: The champ is ready to break the challenger here. Brisco dives at
the legs of the backpedaling Funk, who just barely evades Brisco’s
sorties. Eventually, Jack finds Dory backed against the ropes – and
starts kicking at that knee, damaged goods after the last fall. Jack
lays in some more requisite forearms, when Dory shows the presence of
mind to spring onto the top rope – butt first – and catapult Jack to the
arena floor.

But the champ wants more. The champ wants back in. He Sunset Flips his
way in over the back of Funk, and scores a two count in the bargain. He
pulls Dory to his feet, only to pull off a single leg takedown to set up
the seemingly inevitable figure-four. But Funk simply rolls Brisco up,
blocking the move.

Both men to their feet. A couple of Brisco forearms, countered nicely by
a back suplex from the challenger. Funk slow to cover, and gets only
two. Funk with a snapmare and then the de facto "short splash" onto the
back of Brisco’s neck. Lateral press for two, and we are racing the
clock. Bodyslam, no cover; Funk goes to yet another surfboard variant
quickly (seemingly to call a spot) then fires Brisco into the ropes.
Funk with a flying dropkick; two minutes remaining.

Funk yanks Brisco to his feet. Irish whip, and another Funk dropkick –
but Brisco held onto the top rope. Brisco lateral press for two. Then
they trade off covers in a small package ball for a bit. Eventually
Brisco kicks out, and then the workers do standing switches out of the
abdominal stretch position until Brisco is flung outside the ring.

Brisco makes his way to the ring apron, only to be suplexed in by Funk.
Slow to cover, the challenger only gets a two count. Brisco is prone;
Funk grabs a leg and starts splashing on it, stretching it to set up the
spinning toehold.

And then Funk puts his dreaded finisher on the world heavyweight
wrestling champion, wrenching it in over and over again, tearing at the
champ’s connective tissue.

But in desperation, Brisco kicks Funk in the head, and Funk is knocked
silly.

But Funk recovers all too quickly. Brisco could go nowhere, racked as he
was from the cumulative effects of the Texan’s legcentric psychology.
The toehold, once again, cinched in. Inexorable. Unbearable. Brisco
crying out in pain. The bell rings. The bell rings. The fall is over.

Time Limit Draw.