Oh Yeah. This is going to kill some trees when you print it out. Some
reviews are older than others. Everything brings the funny. And then you
will bring the hate. And we will all bask in the wrestling discussion.
Oh, who to leadoff this week... hmmm..... What About Raven?
OMLL - 10/11/03 - Chicago, Illinois
(by Raven Mack)
TIME PAGE vs. WIZZAR
Unfortunately, the beer-drinking I do accompanying these reviews is
not a work; I am actually that stupid. I state that as a preface here because
I am about to dip my little drink-happy eyeballs into what translates as
the Organization of Mexican Lucha Libre that has been running in a brick
building in Chicago for a few months now. I can tell you, daylights savings
time alterations gave me an extra hour of sleep, it is a rainy Sunday afternoon,
I hate any job in general and my job in particular, I have immense fears
about being the primary breadwinner of a soon-to-be four-member household,
we’re gonna need some more firewood pretty fast, considering the old wives
tale of you getting as many big snows in the winter as you got heavy fogs
in August foretold we’re fucked by the white stuff real soon-like this
year, and I’m just generally uneasy about everything globally and locally,
from Syrian/Israeli escalations of world wars that are basically a derivative
of the second world war as that crazy Hitler created a completely fucked
over Jewish group that the World felt bad enough about to create a safe
haven for, in the midst of crazy brown men, and that’s been percolating
over top of valuable oil fields ever since, all the way down to the stupid
power plant the local supervisors railroaded through a few years ago down
the road starting to crank up it’s power-generating evilness for the northeast
in a few months, and a couple of those shitty supervisors on the take from
the Tenaska Corporation running for meager things like the Fluvanna County
Treasurer, and I ain’t giving them the satisfaction. Shit, I scared my
friends’ kids one night while drunkenly threatening to take a chainsaw
and cut down the playground over by the library when I found out Tenaska
“donated” it to the community after the brouhaha over them coming to our
area, polluting it, producing power, and sending it off to other people
and not us. We get the coughs and weakened bone structure from living in
the midst of giant powerlines, and fuckers in New Jersey can run their
bread machines and computers and DVD player and washer and dryer and oven
and heat pump all at once without any blinks in their service when they
plug in the camcorder to videotape little Mikey Junior putting on his dad’s
jean jacket from back in the day and a red bandana and playing electric
guitar on a tennis racket while The Boss is singing about everybody having
a hungry heart. So I can assure you, the wonderful back alley stylings
of authentic lucha libre by way of the heavy Hispanic tinge of Chi-town,
is just what the doctor ordered, and will probably trigger heavy binge-drinking
by me here and now, to push all those normal man fears and worries down
for a few hours. And isn’t that what the fuck the professional wrestling
is supposed to be about anyways? Time Page is a skinny white guy who establishes
his rudosity by spitting water on the crowd as soon as he walks in from
whatever the other room might be. I imagine it to be small, with some alley-score
couches, and lots of graffiti on the walls, with a cooler full of Tecate
in the cans. Holy fuck, his opponent is Wizzar, who carries a silver ball
on a stick and has a grey beard and longhair and holy shit. This is the
greatest wrestling match ever. Grey and white facepaint and outfit, complete
with glitter adornment, makes for the perfect tecnico for a crowd of midwestern
drunken latinos. “Una pregunta, what the hell are you man?” says Time Page,
a gringo loco, and all Wizzar does is start clapping his hands and stomping
his foot – he is obviously the super-holy offspring of a Jimmy Valiant
on-acid encounter with a Chicago-land groupie in the late ‘70s while Hawkwind
still had Lemmy and they were locked in hallucinogenic love battle with
Doremi Fasol Latido as the soundtrack. Time Page is stalling and refusing
to wrestle this freak, obviously influenced by CM Punk’s local heel work.
Wizzar stomps around and gets the love of the children, and NAILS THE HIPTOSS
MOTHERFUCKER! Time Page is the King of the stall, and Wizzar is oblivious
to the stifling and trifling ten-count nature of this World we call home.
They do a couple of normally fast familiar lucha segments, but they do
it amazingly slow, only for Time Page to take the upper hand and put a
squash to that with a wicked clothesline. After a missed senton legdrop
by Wizzar, Time Page goes to the top and nails the weak-looking senton
for the curtain-jerker victory, since this was A UNA CAIDA. No, wait, it’s
not. We’ve got more action, with Wizzar doing the greatest Boogie Man epileptic
seizure selling of a beatdown seen in a wrestling ring in years. Time Page
quickly takes the second fall too, and that is that. The door they go to
the back through has a giant hole knocked through it and scribbling all
over it – the sign of quality indy wrestling. God Bless America and it’s
wrestling and the wonderful influence of our foreign neighbors to the South
who come here for prosperity and all they get is playa hated by the White
Man and accused of all sorts of mean, nasty, vile activities, yet they
do their job and enjoy their soccer and want their very own wrestling style
to be here in their new home – they are the true Salt of the Earth, and
I love them. Working construction sites again has been nice for many reasons,
but one of them is being around the Simple Man lyrical nature of the working
class Mexican outlaw immigrant. The first Mexicanos I ever worked with
were these two brothers, Javier and Chino, and Jav was a straight-up player,
loving on all women, and Chino was probably the most genuinely nicest guys
I’ve ever known in my life. Well, they had family in Chicago and tried
to talk me into going with them for a week-long visit, telling me about
the wonderful Latino part of town and how much I’d love it, but I couldn’t
do it. Bullshitting on the job site with a couple of Mexican dudes was
one thing, but my taking my limited Spanish-speaking ass to a strange city,
and I feared finding myself in a room full of fifteen guys easily speaking
a language I was struggling with, and I could see joints dipped in strange
liquids being passed around and my leg starting to twitch pretty bad and
me thinking I could hear my heart beating too fast and looking up, in that
state, and fifteen dudes laughing and roto-toto-totoing at me, and it,
in my paranoid mind, could’ve gotten real ugly. Javier married a chick
who opened a Mexican restaurant in Richmond, so he always has sponsorship
for his rec-league soccer team now. When his youngest brother finally flamed
out in Mexican minor league futbol, Jav got him a job painting with the
old crew in Richmond, to have his brother closer and to have a ringer for
his soccer team. That particular crew I worked with was run by upstate
New Yorker white dudes who moved to Richmond, and they had a softball team,
and going to their softball game, with a bunch of “yo”s and beers and garish
women who were supposed to be fawned over by any red-blooded male, shit,
that paled (no pun intended) in comparison to Javier and Chino’s soccer
games, which were like a block party. Stupid white people, compromising
their soul for wealth.
VIENTO MAYA vs. EL TIGRE
“Jump” by Van Halen cranks up and out comes El Tigre. Mask? Check.
Tassles? Check. Tiger stripes on trunks? Check. What color motif? White
and black, simple yet elegant. His opponent is Viento Maya, who sports
a mighty beer gut and a nifty little mask of his own. Both men have hair
coming out the back ends of their masks, suggesting they are loungin’ motherfuckers.
Tigre is your tecnico, being an indy version of El Felino, who must have
friends to the left of the handheld I’m watching, since he points and postures
that way very often. Viento Maya looks as though he knows his way around
a barroom fight, and the thing that strikes me about this show, two matches
in, is it’s just like CMLL lucha, the same slaps into the ropes and armdrags
and whatnot, but two steps slower. I guess with no minor league lucha to
really compare CMLL to, except AAA’s nonsensical sports entertainment bullshit,
you don’t realize how fuckin’ awesome CMLL is. Maya gets way the fuck up
in the air for an nice spear kick to the tiger gullet. These OMLL guys
had Scorpio Jr. in one time, and I’m a huge Scorpio Jr. mark and it’s wonderful
to imagine him in this sleazy little den of wrestling. Tigre takes the
first fall, and again I’m confused because they play the entrance music
of the winner after each fall. Viento Maya attempts to lure El Tigre out
the ring, but he ain’t having it. I wonder if El Tigre has “Jump” as his
music because he’s a huge Art Barr fan, or because he legitimately is all
about old Van Halen? Either way is good by me, and I imagine a great documentary
could’ve been made if in 1989, you put David Lee Roth and Art Barr on a
school bus converted into a travel sleeper recreational vehicle, gave them
plenty of per diem to abuse things with, and filmed the whole escapades
with the promise of never showing it to the public until all statute of
limitations ran out or they both died, whichever came first. Powerbomb
into a Monterrey crab by Viento for the submission ending second fall.
And he’s on El Tigre with the Mexican whip, but instead of bouncing back,
Tigre goes over the top rope, all while holding his back, completely legitimately
selling the enduring agony of that submission maneuver. There are also
some sweet brown honies against the far wall, watching the action. I love
brown-skinned women. My wife’s dad claims to be all-white, but he has some
Mediterranean blood of some sort in him, which gave him the soul to be
a touring big band horn player during the sixties, but also gave his daughter
that wonderful sun-baked complexion that has helped cause me to fill her
belly with babies two times and counting. AWESOME! Viento starts to bust
out a couple lucha-kooky submissions, and I love him even more. Tigre ain’t
afraid to play that game too, but wait, Tigre is untying the mask of Viento
in very untecnico-ey fashion. If TV wrestling has taught me anything, I
imagine this will lead to a sudden third fall disqualification of El Tigre
somewhere further in this match. Ahh, trickiness, as Viento hits a sit-down
powerbomb, but his mask comes off in the process, so rather than hold on
for the pin, he is forced to struggle to keep his mask on, and when he
does it get back on properly, he covers for the final fall. Very odd finish
to that one, but more importantly, beer gut beats out tassles in the battle
for wrestling supremacy, at least this time. Wait, there’s that Time Page
bitch, attacking El Tigre post-match, giving him the ringside beat-down,
just like a white man.
LANCER 2000/DISCOVERY
vs. EL MOSCO/REY AZTECA
This here next match is Lancer 2000, teaming with some dude named Discovery,
who is all swank in his light purple get-up, and they face off against
El Mosco, who is wearing ski goggles over his mask, and Rey Azteca, with
proper mariachi entrance music and bad upper arm tattoo and weird mask
style which hybrids popular design styles of both today’s post-Gen X days
and '80s skater movie stereotype pre-zubaz. Discovery and El Mosco start
the festivities, which makes me believe fuckin’ Lancer Dos Mil and Rey
Azteca are gonna destroy the World here in a few minutes. I love the spry
springy pep in the ring that betrays the beer-gutted physique of your average
luchador; it gives me hope of still being able to land a moonsault off
the toolshed on something other than my brain. Discovery is actually pretty
awesome within the brick backroom context of this match. Here we go, Lancer
and Rey Azteca, and it’s a quick lucha-style mat-based stand-off, until
Azteca accelerates the rudoness and cheats to win, or at least take advantage.
Severely botched jumping rana off the top rope by Lancer, but obviously
Rey Azteca is a vet, because rather than sell the botch, he grabs one of
the legs and acts like he meant to turn it into a legbar. Lancer actually
goes for a pin, and has to tell the ref it’s a pin so count, then dropkicks
Azteca out the ring and hits a running senton off the apron for our first
ringside diving carnage of the evening, consummating the lucha. Discovery
and Mosco are back in, and again, like the earlier matches, they’re doing
interesting lucha pieces of spots, but way slower. It’s weird. Rey Azteca
is back in, trying to get the handshake with Lancer, and the crowd yells
“NON! NON! NON!” but Lancer gets sucker-punched anyways. Mosco gets in
a nice punt kick to the back of Lancer, and…well, this is getting nice.
Discovery gets stiff with Mosco, who falls out to allow Rey Azteca in the
ring and they do the center ring chop the shit out of each other on the
chest deal, with Lancer winning, and he nails a wicked stepover armbar
submission for a minute while Lancer dives on Azteca and then works on
some leg thingy, and first fall goes to los tecnicos, motherfucker, and
Discovery is the goddamned king to Rey Azteca’s minor league Dr. Wagner
Jr.-flavored evil. Shit, I ran out of Old Milwaukees, and rather than open
that dreaded 12-pack of Miller High Life, I dug two wayward bottles of
Natty Light out the back of the fridge that had gotten concealed by the
jar of pickled beet eggs. Lancer Dos Mil is operating on all cylinders,
high speed high impact, to start the second fall. Top rope plancha to the
outside by him, seals the insanity. Once Discovery gets in after that,
he is the victim of brutal heel teamwork, and Rey Azteca slaps an awesome
crab on Discovery, and El Mosco basically holds Lancer’s arms behind his
back, and the ref sort of calls an end to the segunda caida even though
Lancer is sitting there looking around like a little girl is holding his
arms. Again, Discovery is suckered by Rey Azteca’s handshaking offerings,
this time on one knee with one hand behind his back, and while he does
that, El Mosco runs in and grabs Discovery, leading to vicious chest-smacking
of a rudo variety. This third fall is getting sloppy and convoluted as
shit, but Rey Azteca slaps a camel clutch onto the young Lancer 2000, Discovery
comes in, stands there looking at it for a good twenty seconds, then dropkicks
Azteca in the face. Basically, this third fall has worked like this – one
guy beats opponent, slaps him in a weak-looking submission hold, submittable
guy’s partner comes in the ring, stands there for about fifteen seconds
until the ref sees him, then goes and kicks the holder of said submission
move, repeat sequence, until all guys have cycled through twice. Mosco
and Discovery are kicking each other in the thighs ringside, and your ref
has lost all control. Now they wickedly slap each other in the face, and
I knew this would get cool again. You can’t have four dudes dressed like
this and it not get totally motherfuckin’ awesome again. Again, they stand
there and smack the fuck out of each other’s heads, only for Discovery
to end it with brutal kicks to the kidneys. Discovery is so goddamned cool
it’s ridiculous. But then, again, we’re back to that ridiculous cycle thing.
AWESOME! Lancer throws out Mosco, then Discovery does the whip your partner
into the ropes then throw him over the top dive move. Discovery gets Azteca
in a submission hold, ref asks him to submit, but nothing comes of it,
so, no shit, without making any motion to any bell ringer or time keeper
or announcer, the ref just gets out the ring and goes to the back through
a side door, and your announcer just sort of announces that the tecnicos
won the match. I’m not sure if they actually booked the finishes, or just
sort of winged it.
AGUILA DEL AMERICA/PRINCIPE
FRANKY/EL DORADO vs. PODER BORICUA/MALEFICIO/AMERICA SALVAJE
Let’s see here – the lights are out, strobes are going, Quiet Riot
is playing on the P.A. – all this can mean only one thing – IT’S TIME FOR
YOUR GRAN LUCHA ESTRELLA EN RELEVOS AUSTRILIANOS! These guys running at
each other pre-match, in strobe light only, it’s like a terrible terrible
hallucination, or wonderful, depending on your pre-existing emotional state.
Okay, let me run through the guys in this main event trios match. On team
A, first announced dude is the most amazingly wonderful masked man I’ve
seen since the first time I ever saw Dakko Chan – Maleficio. You take a
fat dude with George Steele-like back hair, slap him in an orange outfit
complete with an ultra-motherfuckin’ swank mask with twisty horns, and
you do that in your mind, and I bet, with your imagination stifled by television
and computers and video games, you ain’t got shit up there in image compared
to the real deal Maleficio. He is partnered with a guy I’ve actually seen
on the Mexican wrestling on the satellite, Poder Boricua, as well as some
dude called America Salvaje, who is supposed to be a famous rudo from Triple
A. Team B has Aguila del America, who ironically has MEXICO on the ass
end of his trunks, some non-descript unmasked dude named Principe Franky,
and that dastardly asshole El Dorado, with his freshly shaved head, being
he lost his hair to Fuerza Aerea the week before. According to the announcer
description, Maleficio is some sort of witch, which makes him even more
awesome. Hopefully, he’s in cahoots with Wizzar and they’ll perform some
terrible centuries-old pagan spell to cause Triple H and Stephanie to have
a child, if Triple H’s steroid-shrunken gun can still fire, born with a
Santo mask who takes control of the WWE through santeria, which all the
top luchadors of any era rely on, and instead of the shit we have now,
and Wrestlemania Triple X is headlined by an El Hijo Del Santo vs. Ric
Flair, who by then will be younger due to experimental drugs, in a mask
vs. hair match, where Dr. Wagner Jr. throws a fireball in Santito’s face
to cause him to lose his mask, and Wagner Jr., a re-younged Ric Flair….wait,
never mind. I was interrupted mid-tangent by the realization that the already
dominating style of Maleficio is further compounded by his wrestling gear
featuring four, count ‘em, four tridents, including two crossing each other
on his chest. Holy shit, it would be impossible for me to describe what
just went down there for a few minutes, but it involved aspects of comedy
wrestling, high dives, arm drags, and it was all controlled by Principe
Franky, who even though he looks like a fuckin’ dork, just skyrocketed
up the charts in my mind into probably one of the Top 100 wrestlers still
living. He looks middle-aged and fat, yet closes out his king-sized sequence
on the other team with that running flip dive over the top rope that I
don’t know the name of because I’m not Joey Styles or Mike Tenay onto Poder
Boricua. They do a post-caida celebratory comedy bit on Maleficio involving
him getting triple atomic dropped, and then kicked in the hiney; it was
great. Aguila del America does all these weird little dance moves to showboat,
and is wearing what I’m guessing is a soccer team shirt that has Corona
emblazoned across the back and Coca-Cola on the front. He also starts the
second fall by getting brutalized by America Salvaje, only to take back
over and he is your comedy lucha superstar, and I think this is the greatest
motherfuckin’ match ever on handheld, and El Dorado hasn’t even played
a part in it yet. Until he and Poder Boricua get into it, with the local
promotion's fat and shaved star, El Dorado, kicking ass on the muscularly
cut mid-range superstar from Puerto Rico by way of Mexico, Poder Boricua,
the match isn't complete. Maleficio and Principe Franky are in together
and Franky hits like thirty-seven continuous armdrags, and then dropkicks
Maleficio out the ring. Poder Boricua knocks the shit out of Franky ringside,
then posts him, and I can only hope he is tasting the sweet sweet blade
for my enjoyment right about now. Boricua with a Puerto Rican powerbomb
on El Dorado for the second fall, and the rudos immediately turn their
attention to working Principe Franky the fuck over. I’m drinking the shitty
Miller High Life now, which sucks, much like Parrish Smith I cannot stand
Miller. Back a few years ago, I started a cheap beer can collection, of
full beers, and every time one changed their design, I’d buy a new twelve
pack, but set one aside. I had like 30 of them at one point, including
some shit we don’t get around here like Blatz and National Bohemian, and
plus Milwaukee’s Best changed their can right after I started, so the old
one quickly looked bizarre and ancient. That’s the beauty of American culture,
old shit doesn’t have to be that old to be completely retarded looking.
It wasn’t too long ago the Denver Broncos had orange jerseys, but you show
that shit now and folks think it’s an NFL films tape from 1977. Anyways,
the point of this is the Miller beer has a new can, and some dumb bitch
riding a crescent moon ain’t fooling me, this ain’t no champagne of beers.
Boricua and Franky are again brawling ringside, and this trios match is
obviously headlined by their mutual hatred. Franky is slumped over in a
chair, and Boricua mocks him. Rudos are running things in the aught three
right now, with the good dudes taking turns getting triple teamed. Boricua
lays some nice sounding chops onto El Dorado, but finally he ducks one,
and all hell breaks loose. We’ve got men fighting everywhere, and women
grabbing their kids, and slaps galore. Dorado throws Maleficio into the
brick wall far side, and Boricua and Franky resume their hatred for each
other near side. All this thing really needs is a couple of creepy midgets
and a chair-throwing riot. Dorado with the tope onto Maleficio ringside.
Wait, what the fuck. Aguila del America is low blowed by America Salvaje
while ref is distracted, but then Salvaje falls to the ground clutching
his nutsack, and the ref gives the third fall to the rudos, even after
asking the emphatic kids ringside who say it’s bullshit. Maleficio properly
covers up the ref’s ears so he can’t hear the truth after that, and I’ll
drink to evil witchery adorned with tridents. Wait, there’s post-match
shenanigans; Aguila del America is still, five minutes later, slumped over
in the corner of the room selling the complete pain of getting kicked in
the balls. Finally, the heels leave, and in what is the most amazing culmination
of the low blow foul I’ve seen in lucha, Principe Franky and El Dorado
get Aguila back in the ring, he lays down, Franky pushes his legs up in
a squat type thing, and El Dorado uses his hands to put pressure on Aguila’s
stomach. Apparently, this is the proper way to recover from the low blow,
as Aguila del America is finally able to stand again on his own power,
and I’m assuming, again able to make more children, which is important
to all men like him and me, simple, yet empowered by their overwhelming
numbers in the face of the money-hungry white man’s impotent ruling class.
According to the end of this tape, they run every Saturday, as of now,
on Armitage in Chicago, and if you love the wrestling and live there and
don’t go once a month, then you don’t really love the wrestling, you just
make it your identity to separate yourself in a weird way from your other
goofy friends, sort of like me slugging half a beer to them doing that
dumb shit to help Aguila del America recover from getting kicked in the
dick.
EPILOGUE
FIRST STAR OF THE TAPE: Principe Franky. One of the many things I love
about lucha libre is how a guy who, upon first viewing, just looks like
your average non-descript stocky fucker with a bowlcut. But then he’ll
bust a fuckin’ move like you’d never expect, and rule the goddamned squared
circle encased world like Ric Flair on PCP, south of the border. That was
Franky. He was awesome.
SECOND STAR OF THE TAPE: Discovery. Ditto the Franky commentary, except seeing Discovery’s outfit, I fully expected him to rule; he just ruled it in a different direction than I was expecting.
THIRD STAR OF THE TAPE: Maleficio. The guy’s outfit is awesome, and
if that Sam Hayne pentagram-covered guy is still wrestling for Mid American
Wrestling, I think he and Maleficio should form an unholy alliance to torment
all false metalhead short-haired bitches who dabble in indy wrestling appreciation
throughout the midwest for months to come. Maleficio’s mask is probably
one of the top ten all-time most-awesome masks I’ve ever seen, and I can
really appreciate the fact more and more people are digging on the lucha
libre and interjecting it’s classic styles with their modern artistic interpretations,
though this OMLL authentic latino appreciation seems more healing to my
afraid-of-the-future soul than goofy white kids doing flips on each other
and calling it lucha libre.
FRANKIE KAZARIAN vs.
CHRIS SABIN
Frankie Kazarian vs. Chris Sabin is your opening first
round match-up, and Sabin is young and ultra-successful already, making
me hope he turns out to be the Tommy Rich of his generation. Kazarian is
part of the indy blue-blood of the West Coast that I never don’t enjoy
and wish I saw more of. I love how so many wrestling outfits through the
ages have suggested the wearer is somehow electrically charged. Sabin’s
live wire motif on his ass has a deep point center trunk that goes down
to his anus, and I think somebody must’ve been ribbing him when they sewed
that together. They work to an armbar, AND PEOPLE CLAP! Sabin plays the
good boy to Kazarian’s tournament-style respectful orneriness. Kazarian
gives Sabin an awesome boot to the motherfuckin’ face, and crowd claps
and cheers, and he yells, “I am the coolest person in the World,” and I
drink to the Future keeping his heel heat from these assholes. Kazarian
cockily dominates, and does a nifty roll over of a roll over, picks up
Sabin and does a sidewalk slam backbreaker doohickey. Props to Kazarian
for the braided ponytail as well; that’s the one thing I hate about having
stupid nasty ass dreadlocks now, is I loved to kick the braids, sometimes
the double Willie Nelson bearded Pippy Longstocking style when I felt a
big ass chip on my shoulder and was looking for fights. Hey, the Future
won, and here I was waiting for him to lose. I’m glad I had screwed up
my memory of what happened in this thing; it gave me the tape watching
pop of forgetting how a match was gonna finish and it going the other way,
much to my surprise as well as my rooting benefit, so hell yeah.
BRIAN KENDRICK vs. CHRIS
CAGE
Spanky is sooo cute. He takes on Chris Cage, and I am
always distrustful of guys like Kendrick with that super pretty boy look.
I mean, even Ricky Morton had that sort of fucked up look that showed he’d
experienced life in ways that made him one of us; but then again Kendrick’s
unscarred fresh face probably makes him one of us, the majority, and my
tattered skin is on the outside of that. I hate my stupid parents for breeding
me poor and making me think things like big titties in tank tops on summer
days at cookouts with plenty of potato salad (with hard-boiled eggs as
an ingredient, of course) and two sets of horseshoe pits is Heaven. Actually,
I don’t hate my parents for that, but it leaves me lost a lot of the times.
Like this house we’re painting at now, it’s this big million dollar farm
in Orange County that’s run down as shit, and I find my lot in life there
as two days ago, the sort of middle class, sterile white guys, who are
cool but not dangerous at all, who have their own carpentry/drywall thing
going on, one of them says to the other, “There’s this new video for Outkast,
and the band is all dressed up like those fifties bands with the sweaters
and suspenders and all that, and it’s hilarious.” And yeah, it’s hilarious,
but goddamn, it’s kind of goofy too. Then today, the crazy alcoholic forty-something
black dudes who are redoing the shingles, one of them says as the song
comes on the pop station, “This is a crazy motherfuckin’ video. You know
that Andre dude from them Ms. Jackson dudes? He’s every motherfucker in
the band, and they all got some old ass Ike Turner hair…” and we all laugh
like fools trying to ignore our shitty jobs, and then the main talker flips
it into a story of some guy being stupid because he bred his pit bull with
that pit bull’s own daughter and one of them dogs bit a kid last weekend
and fuck that dog, he’d shoot his ass, even if it was on the chain. My
biggest problem in life is I find dumb shit like that satisfying, much
more so than money, and me and my wife used to call it folks being too
white, since Charlottesville where we live near is whitebread as any place,
and pseudo-liberal to boot, but we shouldn't call it being white because
a lot of white people have soul; it’s more a case of being sterile. That’s
why guys who look like Kendrick tend to piss me off, because they have
that sterile face of a kid who grew up without struggle or without at least
a desire to taste the chaos. “You can see the weakness of a man right through
his iris,” said the RZA before his glare was posed and he was shucking
and jiving to get the soundtrack deal to an overblown Tarantino hodge-podged
thievery of foreign cult cinema classics. I bet Tarantino’s little bitch
ass didn’t use a real corpse to show why Uma Thurman had to wear an eye
patch. Which, the whole squeaky clean look is probably why I like to say
how cute a guy like Kendrick is, because in my underclass upbringing, being
able to fuck a man against his will is the ultimate alpha male action,
pure animal jailhouse shit, and saying he’s cute suggests I’d try it. But
I wouldn’t. Were I gay, I could never get involved with a wrestler, showing
his ass all the time to all those other guys, never being home, forgetting
to call on the anniversary of our first date – it wouldn’t be gratifying.
Cage clocks Kendrick with a superkick, and the crowd is way behind Spanky.
This Chris Cage is Canadian and not bad. Spanky is stiff with the foot
and fist, and I imagine wealthy Saudi Arabian perverts masturbating to
Super 8 DVDs. This is very weird though, the crowd hates Cage because he’s
not Spanky and their smart mark dreamboat. He’s really done nothing to
warrant hatred – no cocky tomfoolery or stretching of the accepted rules
of engagement. Kendrick flips out of a powerbomb attempt to hit a blockbuster
off the ropes for the pin, and two teenage girls and thirty-seven twenty
something guys squeal in delight. Kendrick is so much the subconscious
Lazz gimmick, it kills me. Hey, out comes Simon Diamond, I’m sure to talk
about how motherfuckin’ killer ECWA is and how it made him the wrestling
superstar he is today, except he’s not a wrestling superstar yet. And I
can dig what’s going on, but let me tell you, should anybody ever decide
to do any sort of touching tribute to a dead me in any way whatsoever,
using Gary Glitter’s “Rock and Roll – Part 2” as the soundtrack would be
fuckin’ wrong, very very wrong. On the negative side, it makes me think
of Glitter sexually abusing Thai boys he purchased for decades, and on
the best side, it makes me want to go get another beer at a minor league
hockey game; I don’t think Jeff Peterson is being honored either way. You
know, I dug Jeff Peterson, and I dug the Road Warriors, and I think it’s
awesome how many people Stu Hart trained to be dope-ass wrestlers, but
we are way too overdone on dead wrestler worship. Motherfuckers die all
the time, and yeah, a lot of wrestlers die young, but they know the road
lifestyle, complete with painkillers and alcohol and sex with loose teenage
vixens, is gonna eventually catch up to them. Shit, any Bob Seger record
will teach you that. It kills me how half the wrestling world complains
about how shitty Hawk is for years, how he won’t sell or is out of shape
and not up to his Road Warrior image, and then when he dies, everybody
loves him and wants to say “R.I.P. Hawk, I loved the Warriors, they were
the best, chief.” Fuck that. I always liked Animal better, and I hated
that “what a rush” bullshit Hawk did, and I thought Jeff Peterson was an
awesome wrestler in that Super 8 he was in, but those American flag motif
outfits he wore were fuckin’ stupid. God Bless a motherfucker tragically
dying young at age 21, but also don’t fuckin’ put Gary Glitter over his
tribute. At least pick some corny acoustic guitar segment by Justin Hayward
or something, and have the highest of high spots Peterson ever did in super
slow motion like a Tijuanan neck injury style replay. If we do die and
go to a place where we ethereally haunt the places our bodies used to fuck
around at, I think Peterson would’ve appreciated it that way.
SEDRICK STRONG vs. CHANCE
BECKETT
Sedrick Strong comes out to the worst song on the first
Nappy Roots record, and he’s against Chance Beckett, who’s tiny and cut
and a shithole of an attitude. The crowd is reluctantly behind Strong’s
Honda Civic with platinum wheel covers ass, just because Beckett comes
out like an asshole so easily in appearance and style. I dig this Beckett
kid, at about the same time the fickle crowd turns and chants “Chance!
Chance! Chance!” which probably owes as much to Strong’s boringness as
it does to Beckett’s rulingness. Though Strong does take a self-inflictive
bump jump to the outside, and Beckett is all sorts of scuffed up on his
chin. But he gets the duke.
ALEX ARION vs. PAUL LONDON
JOSE & JO-EL MAXIMO/STRIKER vs. PRINCE NANA/MEGA/ACE
DARLING
Next up in the festivities is Alex Arion vs. Paul London.
London is an indy superstar and everybody loves him. Arion is the Golden
Greek, and I would’ve rather enjoyed Maverick Wild in this spot, but maybe
next year. Arion gives London a couple of nice forearm blows to the spine
at one point, and London hits a rana but Arion stumbles on the ropes and
forces his own self out and it looks hokey. Were I a clueless WWE writer,
I’d so have London in a jean jacket on TV, being a Scott Baio style heartthrob
completely unaware he’s two decades out of style. One thing that sucks
here is there’s this Maverick Wild vs. Alex Arion match I really dig from
NECW a year or two ago, and Arion is doing a lot of the same spots he did
in that match. They have a nice little super-counter in the corner segment
that looks like it was botched, but I don’t think so, where London gets
flipped into the turnbuckle but lands on the second rope, fakes a dive,
then hits a moonsault onto awaiting knees, and nobody cares, proving you
can overthink these things. Keep it simple. And they do, with some saliva-rattling
forearms. The ending, with London winning, was rather sudden and anti-climactic,
but this is the first round, so I’m game.
The Maximos suck and Striker is not the Matt Stryker
I’d pay money to see, and they face Ace Darling, an ECWA perennial, and
I don’t really give a fuck who Mega is since he’s a second to Prince Nana,
who is my absolute favorite indy character in all of the tri-states area,
it means I support Mega. Had ECW not grown at all and wrestling remained
stagnant, I would imagine we’d have had some wonderful Cactus Jack vs.
Prince Nana feuds involving all sorts of run-in characters. I so loathe
Los Maximos and I so am all about Mega and Nana and I’m so uncaring about
the Striker/Darling tag team drama at play. Hey, there’s a botched move,
and this sucks. Even Nana’s comically wonderful selling of offense by hitting
his big bulging white glare behind his dark-complected face can’t make
the Maximos seem good to me. Mega holds up one of the Maximos, and the
Maximo actually is leaning up towards Mega’s ear to chat about what to
do. This is ridiculous. NANAMANIA! Man, I can’t explain it intelligently,
but Nana is so motherfuckin’ awesome in a Paul Jones Army sort of way.
Darling does the Brian Christopher missed legdrop in Brian Christopher
pants, and Striker gets the hot tag, but beats up his own partners. Stupid
sports entertainment chicanery. The Cheetah Master runs in with short hair
and I realize I’m way behind on ECWA info. I bet the rats cried for weeks
when Cheetah’s hair got chopped.
FRANKIE KAZARIAN vs.
PAUL LONDON
It’s time for Kazarian vs. London nonsense, and Kazarian
has switched trunks from his previous blue to some white joints, but even
more snazzily, he’s also switched his braided hair tie from blue to white
as well. You don’t notice little attention to details like that, but they
make a sub-conscious difference in how you view the dude. Wow, these two
get all rapid fire maldonado with the forearm-laced sequences and I’m stoked.
Kazarian does that mighty double kick boot to the face of the sweet London,
and I motherfuckin’ love on that giant boot kick move. London throws off
Kazarian on a top-rope rana attempt, and after Kazarian is just barely
not paralyzed, he rolls into spot for the shooting star job. London is
in the finals, and we get the respectful handshake nonsense. Crowd chants,
“One more win!” Fuck the crowd.
CHANCE BECKETT vs. BRIAN
KENDRICK
Chance Beckett is out, looking disgruntled and abusive
towards women, and then Brian Kendrick comes out, looking naïve and
unabusive towards the advances of older men. My friend Crazy Jai one time,
while living in San Francisco, met some old Russian dude at a library who
said he had some crazy Chekhov shit or something, and they ended up in
the dude’s apartment, drinking vodka, and Crazy Jai said the dude was trying
to molest him, but Crazy Jai played it off and kept drinking till the dude
passed out, and Crazy Jai jumped off the fire escape. Oh yeah, dude locked
the door or some shit. Crazy Jai always seemed to find himself into these
terrible unwanted literary-based homosexual encounters. Spanky is so sexy
that I hope Chance beats him to a bloody jumble. Hey, Spanky takes a ringpost
shot, a rather nice bouncing one, and hopefully is tasting the sweet blade
of violence’s consummation – hard to tell with all that hair though, the
fuckin’ hippie. The crowd boos a Spanky comeback, and I can understand
why wrestlers hate the smart crowds. At least with a stupid crowd, they
have a set guy they hate. Smart crowds switch allegiance mid-match, and
it makes it hard to do face-like comebacks or heelish dominations through
the slow acceleration of rule-breaking. Beckett wins with a lucha submission
teasing into one of DDP’s seven thousand ways to end a match.
THE ECWA SUMMIT
A great heel tactic would be to become commissioner or
something and say every time the crowd chanted, the wrestlers could leave
the ring and not get counted out. It would make for great heel stalling.
I don’t know who this small dude is, but I also wondered why Mr. Ooh La
La is not in the Super 8 this year. If anybody deserves a shot, he does.
Mr. Ooh La La’s ring stripping is so motherfuckin’ great because he’s a
fat man who’s from Delaware, not France, and people pay money to sit in
a building and watch him do that. God Bless the Goddamned Wrestling. The
Japanese Poolboy is next, and I can tell you, being married to a liberated
women with many liberated friends, and me having two turntables now, when
we have parties and I get to drunkenly pretending I’m Z-Trip or some shit,
Abba gets the women into lovely dancing masturbatory fantasy scenes more
than anything. For real. This is comedic stupidity, yet Japanese Poolboy
is my favorite guilty doofus pleasure since the pre-porn girlfriend pill-diet
Blue Meanie was getting jiggly with it to that DJ Kool song in ECW dance
contests. Some young, hot kid comes in and gets clotheslined and booted
to the snout by Ooh La La. That ruled. However, this here ECWA Summit is
shitty, even by battle royal standards. Wait, Mega is out to princify the
shittiness of this thing, and immediately Mr. Ooh La La gets eliminated,
because some shitty Euro monarchy crap can’t compare to old school pan-African
animism. Oh no, the fat fake Vader from Delaware is out next to counter
Mega. Some stripper chick is in it now, and her ass ain’t even as penetrable
as Kendrick’s. That’s pathetic. NANAMANIA! But he slaps Mega for not throwing
out the woman, which won’t work well in tonight's summit, stretching the
strength of their partnership, but in the overall scene of things, he taught
Mega a valuable lesson that he should’ve already knowed. The Cheetah Master
is the Hulk Hogan of small-town Della Vegas. He’s over like red clover
and in like Flynn in those leopard tights. Wait, he lost. And after some
quick wrapping up of this thing, the Japanese Poolboy won the summit.
CHRISTOPHER DANIELS vs.
THE JAPANESE POOLBOY
And he gets Christopher Daniels right away for the ECWA
title, and the crowd goes smart-crazy chant-happy, and I wish Balls Mahoney
was there to drunkenly set half of them on fire in the name of Iron Maiden.
This Poolboy/Daniels match is a weird reverse psychology anti-smart Morton
vs. Flair face-off in the midst of the smarts’ den. I also really love
how Poolboy is playing the Spike Dudley role, and whenever he gets over
for a move, Daniels clocks him to regain control. Even greater is it makes
the crowd sympathetic to Poolboy, but they’re afraid to love on a goofy
disco ball on a stick gimmick, so they sit there silently. The Japanese
Poolboy is indier than fuck, yet every time it becomes remotely interesting,
rather than cheer, the crowd remains quiet. This is an awesome match, for
the match itself, but also for the weird uncomfortableness of the crowd.
Daniels wins though, because he’s not a goofball gimmick – well, if you
overlook the fallen angel priest bald-headed bullshit. Maybe Kettner will
lose his mind this spring and put over the Poolboy in Super 8 2004. Daniels
grabs Poolboy’s ass post-match hug, and I dig the retardedness of it all,
though Brian Kendrick is much hotter than all these guys.
CHANCE BECKETT vs. PAUL
LONDON
Whatever happened to Chance Beckett? Is he in Puerto
Rico? Everyone loves a London and Beckett is an asshole. RF Video production
pales in comparison to the Best of Boogie Woogie Jimmy Valiant, which I’d
guess uses the same editing machine. RF VIDEO – FOR GOD’S SAKE, DON’T BE
AFRAID TO USE THE STAR OR DIAMOND SWEEP! Beckett is awesomely maniacal
on the leg of London in this thing. In fact, Beckett is possessed at destroying
the leg, and London fights as best he can, using his other leg for kicks
and stabs. London’s leg is so beat down and sold, he struggles to get up
the ropes, leaving him prone to Beckett shenanigans. This match is awesome,
motherfucker. Wow, Beckett is out with the three arm drops submission deal
for the loss, and Paul London is the Scott Baio of the smart marks’ pin-up
dreams. The non-dead Haas brother comes in with a giant trophy for the
victor, and everyone is there to be happy and sell the competition because
they all watched Super J-Cup ’94. Time for group picture. They hug and
love on each other and wrestling sucks dick, wrestling sucks dick, wrestling
sucks dick. I wonder about Paul London’s living situation, now being in
the WWE, and I wonder about that Super 8 trophy. Is it in storage? Is it
a gimmick he didn’t even get to keep? Is it this monstrous thing on this
coffee table in his small living room/dining room/futon guest room place
in his Louisville apartment? Or is it at the Goodwill with the yellow t-shirts,
and some Deep Purple eight-tracks?
EPILOGUE
FIRST STAR OF THE TAPE: Chance Beckett. He’s unknown,
disappeared ever since then, and was completely awesome with his busted
chin.
SECOND STAR OF THE TAPE: Paul London. Hey, he’s in the WWE now, which he makes a decent paycheck to completely compromise his morals; I’d rather be broke.
THIRD STAR OF THE TAPE: The Japanese Poolboy. He is the
bestest gay gimmick since Lenny Lane and Lodi, which wasn’t really that
great a gimmick, but it was fun to see Lane pretend to be Chris Jericho
so as to defame him upon his WWE arrival.
Session Close: Mon Mar 24 21:04:36 2003
[21:04] <Rippa> okay - let me get to crowd scene
[21:04] <Rippa> Oh - just for the record
[21:05] <Rippa> Tape came from Alfredo and is called
Hamada's UWF Lucha Primera Clase II
[21:05] <deanIZdean> What's the date on it?
[21:05] <Rippa> We will let the reader figure out
what date it is
[21:05] <Rippa> Fredo lets me down
[21:05] <Rippa> I am paused at the crowd scene
[21:05] <deanIZdean> pre-mascarar vs mascara Brazos
[21:06] <deanIZdean> okay
[21:06] <Rippa> We will see in a sec when they show
the Brazos
[21:06] <deanIZdean> I'm rolling
[21:06] <Rippa> I think they are masked
[21:06] <deanIZdean> they are
[21:06] <Rippa> okay - we got a couple of minutes
before the first match
[21:06] <Rippa> See Masked Brazos
[21:06] <deanIZdean> hold on, I'm still getting to
the crowd
[21:06] <Rippa> are they throwing shit into the crowd
[21:06] <deanIZdean> aaaaaaaannnnd
[21:06] <Rippa> pause when the logo comes on and the
screen goes white
[21:07] <deanIZdean> okay
[21:07] <Rippa> play
[21:07] <deanIZdean> hold on
[21:07] <Rippa> this is what they tell us what all
the matches are
[21:07] <deanIZdean> they are throwing stuff
[21:07] <deanIZdean> logo
[21:07] <Rippa> almost there
[21:07] <deanIZdean> white
[21:07] <Rippa> okay - hit play
[21:07] <deanIZdean> Dick Togo and unmasked great
Sasuke
[21:08] <deanIZdean> Gedo and Jado a gimmick ago
[21:08] <Rippa> yeah - the first match is Gedo/Jado
vs. Delfin/Sasuke
[21:08] <Rippa> but none of them use their actual
name
[21:08] <deanIZdean> Takeda? who was that?
[21:08] <Rippa> I cant wait for the Hermso/Greco match
[21:08] <Rippa> yeah that was Hermso/Greco vs. Takeda
and Kung Fu
[21:09] <Rippa> one match at a time
[21:09] <Rippa> look at how tiny Blue Panther was
[21:09] <deanIZdean> Hey, Asai
[21:09] <Rippa> BRAZOS BABY!!!!!
[21:09] <deanIZdean> I think we are synched
[21:09] <deanIZdean> Platta goes over
[21:09] <Rippa> oh yeah
[21:09] <deanIZdean> splatty!
[21:09] <deanIZdean> Theee ladies
[21:10] <Rippa> the amazing hair on the svelte AJa
[21:10] <deanIZdean> awesome
[21:10] <deanIZdean> Bison! My pants explode with
anticipation
[21:10] <deanIZdean> elimination match
[21:10] <Rippa> Mmmm... Honey Wings
[21:10] <Rippa> Oh yeah - goofy lucha battle royal
[21:10] <deanIZdean> highlights of how fat the Brazos
are
[21:10] <Rippa> why are you hating on the Brazos?
[21:10] <deanIZdean> "THEY ARE SO VERY FAT!"
[21:11] <deanIZdean> I love the Brazos
[21:11] <deanIZdean> the titel
[21:11] <deanIZdean> Asai with his peeps
[21:11] <Rippa> LOOK HOW RACIST MY MASK IS?!?!?!?!?
[21:11] <deanIZdean> The masks and the sombreros as
they crowd around the future Ultimo
[21:11] <Rippa> Asai needs to not read directly off
the cue cards
[21:11] <deanIZdean> like Stetsasonic
GOOLIE SZ/BULLDOG KT
vs. MONKEY MAGIC WAKITA/MASA MICHINOKU
[21:12] <Rippa> Okay - the first match is
[21:12] <deanIZdean> Ewww
[21:12] <deanIZdean> Gedo is creepy looking with the
Steiner hair
[21:12] <Rippa> Goolie SZ/Bulldog KT vs. Monkey Magic
Wakita/Masa Michinoku
[21:12] <deanIZdean> Delfin needs a helping of mask
[21:12] <Rippa> Warning - this doesnt last long
[21:12] <deanIZdean> he has that gay heroin adsdict
Hayabusa look going
[21:13] <Rippa> Its the way back Gedo/jado vs. Super
Deflin/Great Sasuke match
[21:13] <deanIZdean> Monkey Magic
[21:13] <deanIZdean> The tail, the Mike Reno headband
[21:13] <Rippa> Yeah - no wonder Delfin hates Sasuke
[21:13] <Rippa> "Every Girl's crazy about a sharp
dressed man"
[21:13] <deanIZdean> I think I'm a little ahead of
you
[21:13] <Rippa> no - I am just a slow typer
[21:14] <Rippa> monkey magic dead - Masa trying to
get the offense in
[21:14] <deanIZdean> Masa Michinoku looks like that
pasty current MP guy that you hate
[21:14] <Rippa> Gedo's hair does scare me
[21:14] <deanIZdean> with the yellow pants
[21:14] <Rippa> Ikuda-Kun?
[21:14] <Rippa> or something really close to that
[21:15] <Rippa> It isnt 500 time so I wont pretend
to know
[21:15] <Rippa> Told you that was over quick
[21:15] <deanIZdean> So Gedo and Jado were doing the
Superbomb before anyone else
[21:15] <deanIZdean> This was what- 89?
[21:15] <Rippa> Appears so
[21:15] <Rippa> OH YEAH
SERGIO EL HERMOSO/EL
BELLO GRECO vs. KUNG FU/TAKEDA
[21:15] <Rippa> THis is Sergio El Hermoso/El Bello
Greco vs. Kung Fu/Takeda
[21:15] <deanIZdean> Pretent that Virus and Scott
Steiner REALLY liked each other a whole lot
[21:16] <Rippa> Schneider is all about Hermoso and
Greco now
[21:16] <deanIZdean> They have a child and it looks
like Gedo in this
[21:16] <deanIZdean> Are they Exoticos?
[21:16] <Rippa> They are about 50003 million times
better another other gay gimmick
[21:16] <Rippa> Oh yeah
[21:16] <Rippa> They are deeply Exoticos
[21:16] <deanIZdean> Awesome
[21:16] <deanIZdean> That's not Super Calo's dad though,
right?
[21:17] <deanIZdean> Calo's dad takes his beard too
far and has a child with her
[21:17] <Rippa> Schneider claims it is - but that
would kill the Exotico gimmick
[21:17] <Rippa> I dont know what to think
[21:17] <deanIZdean> Oscar Wilde was married
[21:17] <deanIZdean> Pete townsend was married
[21:17] <deanIZdean> Which one is Super Calo's dad?
[21:17] <Rippa> having a beard and producing a child
are two different things
[21:17] <Rippa> Lets see what Jose says - if anything
[21:18] <deanIZdean> You marry your beard and she
has a child for you
[21:18] <deanIZdean> the perfect cover up
[21:18] <deanIZdean> but inside you're gay gay gay
[21:18] <Rippa> okay - you cover the comedy, I will
search Jose's page
[21:18] <Rippa> Of course - I am a wrestling fan.
Everyone knows I am gay
[21:18] <deanIZdean> Kung Fu uses the Nun-chuks
[21:19] <deanIZdean> The Exoticos use the nunchuks
and they aren't very good with them- what with no practise
[21:19] <Rippa> they are all about assualting themselves
[21:20] <Rippa> BTW - Jose appears to have bios on
none of them. Including Super Calo
[21:20] <deanIZdean> Takeda has the most racist mask
since Doc chan
[21:20] <Rippa> which surprises me
[21:20] <Rippa> the bios
[21:20] <Rippa> not the racist mask
[21:20] <Rippa> The question is though
[21:20] <deanIZdean> Unbelievably, the Exotico sells
damage to his ass a whole lot.
[21:20] <Rippa> Does Highspots sell the Takeda mask?
[21:21] <deanIZdean> Hermosa flits his arms while
running the ropes
[21:21] <deanIZdean> Aren't most belgian kickboxers
gay?
[21:22] <Rippa> I think I need to pester Jose into
updating his Exotico section
[21:22] <deanIZdean> I'm saying Greco is in the pink
[21:22] <Rippa> Do I look like Naimark?
[21:22] <deanIZdean> Greco has great hair
[21:22] <Rippa> I think they said at the beginning
of the match
[21:22] <Rippa> Oh well
[21:22] <deanIZdean> Find out who Takeda is
[21:22] <deanIZdean> I'm guessing Shinzaki
[21:23] <Rippa> not lazy enough
[21:23] <deanIZdean> upper-body and armdrag says Shinzaki
[21:23] <Rippa> Oh - that looked like the perfect
set up for the 69 spot
[21:23] <Rippa> Boy - they sure are protective of
their asses
[21:23] <Rippa> I dont know what to think now
[21:24] <deanIZdean> Why is Schneider in love with
these guys?
[21:24] <deanIZdean> They are gay versions of Andy
Barrow
[21:25] <Rippa> They were all over the Lynch list
that he recited to me on the phone
[21:25] <deanIZdean> They suck in this match
[21:25] <Rippa> Kung Fu has the Kick of Fear that
says Barbarian too me
[21:25] <deanIZdean> oh yeah
[21:26] <Rippa> Okay - according to the late great
Vanes - this is from 11/17/90
[21:26] <deanIZdean> Kung fu is 75 years old in this
match
[21:27] <deanIZdean> Listless rudoing
[21:27] <Rippa> I do like the little patch on Hermoso
and Sergios chest.
[21:27] <deanIZdean> HErmanos wants to shake and they
fool Kung Fu
[21:27] <Rippa> Its like the little heart shaped windows
on kidnapper vans
[21:28] <deanIZdean> The Atomic Drop forces him to
be penetrated by the ref!
[21:28] <Rippa> poor little ref's junk
[21:28] <Rippa> Maybe Takeda is Gran Hamada
[21:28] <deanIZdean> Okay, I love the rolling armdrag
sell by Hermanos
[21:28] <Rippa> err.... Naniwa
[21:29] <deanIZdean> Hermanos is the worker of the
two
[21:29] <deanIZdean> If he is the guy in yellow
[21:29] <Rippa> Takeda is not Shinzaki - I can tell
you that for sure now
[21:29] <Rippa> I think Hermoso is the guy in the
pink
[21:30] <deanIZdean> Satan Pro is on the phone telling
me about RAW
[21:30] <deanIZdean> Then Greco is the worker
[21:30] <Rippa> and Bello Greco is in the yellow
[21:30] <Rippa> how can SP be on the phone when he
is supposed to be wrestling in this next match
[21:30] <deanIZdean> Greco leans into the kick to
the face like a man
[21:31] <Rippa> Yeah - Kung Fu has quite the Hart
Dungeon offense going
[21:31] <deanIZdean> Greco is one I'm falling in love
[21:31] <deanIZdean> with
[21:31] <Rippa> Boy - this match seems a lot longer
in my mind than it actually is
[21:32] <Rippa> Though If my counter is to be believed
- it is upwards of 15 minutes long
[21:32] <Rippa> OH DEAR LORD
[21:32] <deanIZdean> Awesome!
[21:32] <Rippa> That was all sorts of ugly dangerous
[21:32] <Rippa> as Takeda clips the ropes doing the
tope of death
[21:32] <deanIZdean> Fat Ass Tope by Takeda
[21:33] <deanIZdean> Kung Fu with the LEG DRAGON SLEEPER
[21:33] <Rippa> Okay - why on Earth would he tap to
that?????
[21:33] <deanIZdean> Awesome
[21:33] <deanIZdean> Why WOULDN'T you tap to that
[21:33] <Rippa> I mean his head was right in his package
[21:33] <deanIZdean> "LOVE YOURSELF!
[21:33] <Rippa> If he is a true Exotico - he loves
that hold
[21:33] <deanIZdean> LOVE IT!
[21:33] <Rippa> 13 39
[21:33] <Rippa> I guess that is right
[21:33] <deanIZdean> You don't want your own junk,
you want Ricky Banderas's
[21:34] <Rippa> I go for a higher quality PR rat
[21:34] <deanIZdean> If you enjoyed the sweet love
of other men
BLUE PANTHER/BLACK POWER
vs. YOSHIHIRO ASAI (ULTIMO DRAGON)/KATO KUNG LEE
[21:34] <Rippa> This says great to me
[21:34] <Rippa> Blue Panther/Black Power vs. Yoshihiro
Asai (Ultimo Dragon)/Kato Kung Lee
[21:34] <deanIZdean> Blue Panther is lil
[21:34] <Rippa> Because it is BLUE PANTHER AND ULTIMO
DRAGON
[21:34] <deanIZdean> Who is Black Power?
[21:34] <Rippa> and DRAGON Isnt in Mexico
[21:35] <Rippa> I dont think he is very good. Could
be completely wrong there though
[21:35] <deanIZdean> Black Panther was Black Warrior
[21:35] <Rippa> you are just making up stuff now
[21:35] <deanIZdean> Kato Kung Lee is fabulously decrepit
[21:35] <deanIZdean> that mask fucking rules it
[21:35] <Rippa> Actually - I will take that back.
[21:35] <deanIZdean> What does Jose say about Black
Power
[21:36] <Rippa> Warrior was A Black Power
[21:36] <Rippa> but not this one
[21:36] <deanIZdean> AH
[21:36] <deanIZdean> Who is this one?
[21:36] <Rippa> Black Warrior was Black Panther in
95/96
[21:36] <Rippa> I am trying to see
[21:37] <deanIZdean> A-SA-I!
[21:37] <deanIZdean> A-SA-I!
[21:37] <deanIZdean> A-SA-I!
[21:37] <Rippa> I wonder if Black Panther = Black
Terry
[21:37] <deanIZdean> Black Power works the arm bar
and a twist
[21:37] <deanIZdean> Ultimo flips out into an armdrag
[21:37] <Rippa> probably not but I love random statements
that give the kids things to talk about on the message boards that aren't
ROH match times
[21:38] <deanIZdean> BP with the head scissors
[21:38] <deanIZdean> Ultimo flips out
[21:38] <deanIZdean> FRONT CHANCELLORY
[21:38] <deanIZdean> and then floats all over him
[21:38] <Rippa> Oh yeah - this is going to be fucking
great
[21:38] <deanIZdean> I personnaly LOVE THAT SHIT
[21:38] <deanIZdean> Then Ultimo does it back
[21:38] <deanIZdean> AWWWESOME
[21:38] <deanIZdean> Jillion Billion stars
[21:39] <deanIZdean> Blue Panther fears Kung Lee and
his armdrag
[21:39] <Rippa> He does not fear the matwork
[21:39] <deanIZdean> Now they take it to the mat and
I am in love
[21:39] <Rippa> Oh yeah bring the tricked out arm
work
[21:39] <deanIZdean> this fucking rules
[21:39] <Rippa> WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?
[21:40] <Rippa> That was quite the Blue Panther meets
Joe Malenko and I am in love
[21:40] <Rippa> love love love
[21:40] <deanIZdean> Panther FORCES Kung Lee to do
the twisting El Santo Crucifix thing
[21:40] <Rippa> If Blue Panther counters out of this
by switching into a camel clutch I will pass out
[21:40] <deanIZdean> The croosface into the roperunning
into the roll up to the vertical base
[21:40] <deanIZdean> that's lucha
[21:41] <deanIZdean> Blue motherfucking Panther is
motherfucking GOD
[21:41] <Rippa> How Blue Panther isnt everyone's favorite
wrestling is beyond me
[21:41] <Rippa> wrestler too
[21:41] <deanIZdean> People are motherfucking idiots
[21:41] <deanIZdean> Asai and Black Power bring the
smacking
[21:41] <Rippa> Black Power is bringing the English
trash talk
[21:41] <deanIZdean> Asai is like Bruce Lee an
[21:42] <deanIZdean> FUCKING AWESOME
[21:42] <deanIZdean> The twirling armdrag
[21:42] <deanIZdean> Asai was fucking awesome
[21:42] <deanIZdean> Notice the spots Sasuke stole
from Kung Lee
[21:42] <Rippa> Panther is doing quite the carry job
on Kung Lee here though
[21:42] <Rippa> AND THAT
[21:42] <deanIZdean> Even the hopping before running
the ropes
[21:43] <Rippa> Panther = bump freak
[21:43] <Rippa> oh this isnt good
[21:43] <deanIZdean> Blue Panther is a luchadore
[21:43] <Rippa> that is the spectacular shot of the
Gedo mullet
[21:44] <deanIZdean> his leg would have to break off
or he would have to die in the ring for a few minutes for him not to continue
[21:44] <deanIZdean> Asai was sooo Rey Misterio Jr
before Rey Misterio Jr
[21:45] <deanIZdean> Black Power flexes his pecs
[21:45] <Rippa> these has turned into a creepy stalker
phone call
[21:45] <Rippa> what is up with all the heavy breathing?
[21:45] <deanIZdean> They double team Asai and the
crowds is riled up
[21:46] <deanIZdean> Panther with the gourd-buster
[21:46] <deanIZdean> and Power with the shoulder block
[21:46] <Rippa> I am a gord buster mark
[21:46] <deanIZdean> Los Road Warriors
[21:46] <deanIZdean> and they continue to bust up
Asai
[21:47] <deanIZdean> throwing him into the chairs
and beating him with them
[21:47] <Rippa> we have gotten far far away from the
mat work
[21:47] <deanIZdean> Black Power is like Power Warrior
with the Strangle Hold Gamma
[21:48] <deanIZdean> Yeah, they are channeling the
RWs circa 1988
[21:48] <Rippa> I blame you for not immediately knowing
who Black Power is
[21:48] <deanIZdean> Blue Panther with the Lucha Powerbomb
[21:49] <deanIZdean> Asai counters the second one
with a roll up
[21:49] <deanIZdean> Blue Panther makes him pay with
a Mexican Ceiling hold
[21:49] <deanIZdean> copyright Scott Hudson in Global
[21:49] <deanIZdean> Asai with a Superplex to offense
[21:49] <Rippa> and there are the kicks
[21:49] <deanIZdean> and the Ultimo series of kicks
[21:50] <deanIZdean> no Asai moonsault though
[21:50] <Rippa> Ultimo isnt afraid to tease the highspot
[21:50] <Rippa> that's twice this match
[21:50] <deanIZdean> Kung Lee with the punch to the
chest
[21:50] <deanIZdean> into the FRONT CHANCELLORY!
[21:50] <deanIZdean> Power kicks to TRANSITION~!
[21:51] <Rippa> Yeah - Black Power sounds like he
has the cardio of a man who is close personal friends with the Marlboro
Man
[21:51] <deanIZdean> Owwwwww, the chair spot goes
awry!
[21:51] <deanIZdean> Panther cuts Asia off with the
smack to the chest
[21:51] <deanIZdean> Asai armdrags to a Pescado
[21:52] <Rippa> I am thinking that was the Ultimo
highspot of the moment
[21:52] <deanIZdean> Alright! Black Power almost kills
Kung Lee
[21:52] <deanIZdean> Rick Steiner bodyslam of near
neck compression
[21:52] <Rippa> I should start the internet rumor
that Black Power was Sean Morley before he was Steele
[21:52] <Rippa> I just dont want to be right
[21:52] <deanIZdean> Awesome, Panther and Asai take
it to the streets
[21:52] <Rippa> AWESOME!!!!
[21:52] <Rippa> I love that spot
[21:52] <deanIZdean> AWESOME
[21:53] <Rippa> That looked roughly clipped
[21:53] <deanIZdean> The reverse Sunset Flip out of
jumping in the corner
[21:53] <deanIZdean> right into Kung Lee running the
ropes
[21:53] <Rippa> Dean and I were both loving Asai/Panther
taking the brawl outside and then yelling at each other to take it back
into the ring
[21:53] <deanIZdean> What did Asai do?
[21:53] <Rippa> I am not sure
[21:53] <Rippa> Hold on - let me rewind
[21:54] <Rippa> He did a rolling senton off the ring
apron
[21:54] <Rippa> That was quite the highspot out of
the corner of your eye
[21:54] <deanIZdean> I think it was the somersault
plancha off the apron
[21:54] <Rippa> yeah - that too
[21:54] <deanIZdean> yeah
[21:54] <Rippa> it has all broken down now
[21:55] <Rippa> Kung Lee has hit the wall
[21:55] <Rippa> JESUS
[21:55] <deanIZdean> Panther rolled up for two
[21:55] <Rippa> When did Psychosis start working under
the Panther mask
[21:55] <deanIZdean> Kung Lee is jillion years old
and shouldn't be powerbombed like that
[21:55] <Rippa> did you get to Panther going splat
over the table yet?
[21:56] <deanIZdean> Then Power forgets how to wrestle
[21:56] <Rippa> or the bad looking tombstone attempt
[21:56] <Rippa> I take it you did
[21:56] <deanIZdean> Oh yeah
[21:56] <deanIZdean> Black Power loses it at the end
[21:56] <deanIZdean> OW
[21:56] <Rippa> Oh yeah
[21:56] <deanIZdean> Worst piledriver ever
[21:56] <deanIZdean> Asai was 24
[21:56] <Rippa> Welcome to NJ Juniors 1995
[21:57] <deanIZdean> The unpinnable Asai
[21:57] <deanIZdean> nice Capture Suplex
[21:57] <Rippa> That capture suplex was awesome
[21:57] <Rippa> I wish Dragon kept using that
[21:57] <deanIZdean> He lands right on his neck when
he does that
[21:58] <deanIZdean> I can see why he stopped
[21:58] <deanIZdean> Triangle-ish Hold for the win
[21:58] <Rippa> Well - I mean its not like he didnt
have to land on his neck after taking botched tombstones from masked white
boys
[21:58] <deanIZdean> They probably shouldn't have
had Ultimo kick out of 32 finishers
[21:58] <deanIZdean> but that was some sloppy fun
[21:58] <Rippa> Yeah - Dragon was feeling AJ Styles
there
[21:59] <Rippa> Oh-uh - the cat is coming to march
all over the keyboard
[21:59] <deanIZdean> BRAZOS
[21:59] <Rippa> my half of this review might get funnier
[21:59] <Rippa> yeah - you cant tell me that isnt
Satan Pro
[21:59] <deanIZdean> Are you at Platta talking?
[21:59] <Rippa> yeah
[21:59] <deanIZdean> ooosh
[21:59] <deanIZdean> Who is that guy in the black
mask?
[21:59] <Rippa> This is going to end up being
LOS BRAZOS vs. GRAN HAMADA/BLACK
MAN/KENDO - UWA Trios Titles
[22:00] <Rippa> Los Brazos vs. Gran Hamada/Black Man/Kendo
- UWA Trios Titles
[22:00] <Rippa> So - it is Black Man
[22:00] <Rippa> Duh
[22:00] <deanIZdean> Wait, I thought Kendo WAS Black
Man
[22:00] <Rippa> obviously not
[22:00] <Rippa> Black Man sure needs to hit the gym
[22:00] <deanIZdean> What would jose say?
[22:00] <Rippa> Jose has nothing
[22:00] <Rippa> my world is being shattered
[22:00] <deanIZdean> Jose hates you
[22:00] <deanIZdean> for desparaging Misterioso
[22:01] <Rippa> He joins a lenghty list
[22:01] <Rippa> I dont recall hating Misterioso
[22:01] <deanIZdean> Gran hamada on the stick
[22:01] <Rippa> of course its very possible
[22:01] <deanIZdean> He hates me for disparaging Mysterioso
[22:01] <Rippa> Tell me when you get to the Brazos
hitting the ring
[22:01] <deanIZdean> They are hitting the ring
[22:01] <deanIZdean> They came straight from band
practice if the hats are any indication
[22:01] <Rippa> Jesus - 90 more minutes and only 3
more matches
[22:02] <Rippa> the elimination match must be 492
minutes long
[22:02] <Rippa> That was the production of Three musketeers
[22:02] <deanIZdean> Kendo makes on the flower ladies
[22:02] <deanIZdean> Brazos are dressed like the 3
Musketeers because they have the tunics and the hats with the feather on
the side
[22:03] <Rippa> I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!
[22:03] <deanIZdean> They are managed by Micheal York
[22:03] <Rippa> Sir! I say SIR!
[22:03] <deanIZdean> if this were my fauntasy world
[22:03] <Rippa> Ooof - as I bring the Simpsons references
that no one gets
[22:04] <deanIZdean> Tomaco
[22:04] <deanIZdean> Who could forget
[22:04] <Rippa> Boy - if this is 3 falls we are in
for a long night
[22:04] <deanIZdean> it also had the lame b-52s song
[22:04] <Rippa> GLOVE SLAP!
[22:04] <Rippa> BABY GLOVE SLAP!
[22:04] <deanIZdean> see, in the old days
[22:04] <deanIZdean> the b-52s were all about songs
about fucking
[22:05] <deanIZdean> "Strobe Lite'
[22:05] <deanIZdean> "Shake This Mess Around'
[22:05] <Rippa> Yeah - for those of you wondering
at home. Match still hasnt started
[22:05] <Rippa> thus Dean can fantasy about which
female member of the b-52s he wanted to do
[22:05] <deanIZdean> Kendo gets the crowd to chant
his name
[22:06] <deanIZdean> I would quickly disappoint either
female member of the B-52s
[22:06] <Rippa> Yeah - the Brazos spot of teasing
walking out gets old when you see if everytime they work
[22:06] <deanIZdean> also Sara Lee, the bass player
[22:06] <deanIZdean> As does the Kendo Hulkamania
schtickt
[22:06] <Rippa> there are many the female rock stars
I would like the chance to disappoint
[22:06] <deanIZdean> I await Kendo to not retire for
24 minutes
[22:07] <Rippa> Oh yeah - I should just drift off
now
[22:07] <deanIZdean> Well, I'd throw some jitter into
Debra Harry
[22:07] <deanIZdean> Oro starts in on the leg
[22:07] <deanIZdean> and kendo reverses out
[22:08] <deanIZdean> that was just Brazo
[22:08] <Rippa> Yeah, Black Man is right up there
in the racist outfit department
[22:08] <deanIZdean> this is Oro
[22:08] <deanIZdean> Platta jiggles his boobies and
it induces no wood in me
[22:09] <Rippa> Is Black Man doing an Exotico gimmick
too?
[22:09] <deanIZdean> Black Man gets flipped all over
the ring by Oro until he whips off the armdrag
[22:09] <Rippa> Okay - I got an interview tomorrow
morning at 9 am. So we are going to have to cut this into two parts
[22:09] <Rippa> because I am realizing this will sap
the rest of my will away
[22:09] <deanIZdean> hamada comes in and Platta is
FUCKING RULING IT
[22:09] <Rippa> Especially if Kendo keeps coming in
[22:10] <deanIZdean> Did you want to stop now
[22:10] <Rippa> oh no - we can finish this match with
ease
[22:10] <deanIZdean> okay
[22:10] <Rippa> I just fear it being 45 minutes from
now when it ends
[22:10] <deanIZdean> AWESOMe
[22:10] <Rippa> that is why I am saying something
now
[22:10] <deanIZdean> Armdrag over the toprope
[22:10] <Rippa> young 23 year old Hamada bring the
pain
[22:10] <Rippa> bringing too
[22:11] <deanIZdean> I think hamada was 67 in this
match
[22:11] <deanIZdean> Platta splatters Brazo
[22:11] <Rippa> I am not ashamed to say I am a mark
for the Brazo crying spot
[22:11] <deanIZdean> fraternal bickering ensues
[22:11] <Rippa> gimme some sugar
[22:11] <deanIZdean> well, they are brothers
[22:11] <deanIZdean> you can kiss your brothers
[22:12] <Rippa> no tongue
[22:12] <Rippa> unless you and Randy have a relationship
that I dont want to know about
[22:12] <deanIZdean> platta vs kendo
[22:12] <deanIZdean> well there was that one time
[22:12] <Rippa> in band camp?
[22:12] <deanIZdean> The weird ass variation on the
kendo kip up
[22:13] <Rippa> You know - Black Man is reminding
me of someone but I cant put my finger on it
[22:13] <deanIZdean> Jimmy Valient?
[22:13] <Rippa> No - I am thinking more of a brother
Dusty Rhodes I guess
[22:14] <Rippa> Yup - this is three falls
[22:14] <Rippa> it has to be
[22:14] <deanIZdean> God, this is like a 45 step finish
[22:14] <Rippa> it wouldnt end on that - would it????
[22:14] <Rippa> Nope
[22:14] <Rippa> 3 falls
[22:15] <deanIZdean> Each Brazo is a victim of misdirection
to lead to Hamada winning with a roll-up
[22:15] <deanIZdean> God, this is what the kids call
workrate
[22:15] <deanIZdean> as we start segunda caida
[22:15] <Rippa> Porky is flying around the ring at
the start of the 2nd caida
[22:16] <deanIZdean> Platta with the barrel roll off
the ropes into a pose
[22:16] <deanIZdean> Brazos could work they asses
off
[22:16] <Rippa> why do you insist on doubling the
ts in Plata?
[22:16] <deanIZdean> to fuck with you
[22:16] <Rippa> why the hate?
[22:16] <Rippa> why?
[22:16] <deanIZdean> or I'm an idiot
[22:16] <Rippa> AWESOME!
[22:17] <deanIZdean> Black Man took it like a MAN
[22:17] <Rippa> Hamada is also taking his beating
like a man
[22:17] <deanIZdean> Brazo with the heartpunch
[22:18] <deanIZdean> Blackman with the graceful armdrag
[22:18] <Rippa> Porky is the master of the bellybuck
[22:18] <deanIZdean> Blackman I'm digging
[22:18] <deanIZdean> Porky with the safe falling on
Wiley Coyote plancha
[22:18] <deanIZdean> oro with the SOMETHING to take
the second fall
[22:18] <Rippa> I give Kendo props for taking it though
[22:19] <deanIZdean> I'm more in love with everybody
in this match
[22:19] <deanIZdean> Plata is fucking RULING it
[22:19] <Rippa> THat was what you want in the bizarre
lucha finish to a fall
[22:19] <deanIZdean> tercera
[22:19] <deanIZdean> oro is smacky
[22:19] <Rippa> and kicky
[22:19] <deanIZdean> hamada is taking the beating
[22:20] <Rippa> I still remember when Oro returned
from the dead to appear at one of them there Super 8s
[22:20] <deanIZdean> Plata's jiggly nipple is hypnotic
[22:20] <deanIZdean> that wasn't Brazo De Oro
[22:20] <Rippa> is the nipple lactating?
[22:20] <deanIZdean> That was just Oro
[22:20] <deanIZdean> So Brazo was the best of the
three
[22:20] <Rippa> It was during what should have been
the ECWA summit portion
[22:20] <Rippa> I didnt pay much attention
[22:20] <deanIZdean> or was it Brazo de Oro
[22:21] <deanIZdean> De Oro was the worker
[22:21] <Rippa> OH MAN! THAT RULED
[22:21] <deanIZdean> Hamada's testicles fire out of
his body to the floor of Koruken hall as he hoists Plata up for a suplex
[22:21] <Rippa> okay - I have gotten ahead
[22:21] <deanIZdean> Camel Clutch
[22:22] <Rippa> now we are caught up
[22:22] <deanIZdean> kendo is smacking to a save
[22:22] <Rippa> or something resembling English
[22:22] <deanIZdean> bow n arrow by kendo
[22:22] <Rippa> big fat belly to belly
[22:22] <deanIZdean> Plata with an EVIl belly to belly
[22:22] <deanIZdean> that was awesome
[22:23] <Rippa> I am still trying to figure out if
Black Man actually is a brother or not
[22:23] <Rippa> the only portion that isnt covered
is his neck
[22:23] <Rippa> i havent got a good look yet
[22:23] <deanIZdean> Everybody gets driven outside
to set Kendo's awesome Plancha
[22:23] <Rippa> and Kendo is working his ass off here
[22:23] <deanIZdean> AWESOME
[22:23] <Rippa> and Hamada is dead dead dead
[22:23] <deanIZdean> Hamada with the Inside Asai Moonsault
[22:24] <Rippa> Oh yeah
[22:24] <Rippa> you know what is coming
[22:24] <deanIZdean> Plata with the Toyota through
the Guardrail Tope
[22:24] <Rippa> damn straight
[22:24] <deanIZdean> Plata off the top to kill Kendo
dead
[22:24] <deanIZdean> Awesome
[22:24] <Rippa> that was scary
[22:25] <deanIZdean> Kendo is a MAN
[22:25] <Rippa> I got no beef with Kendo in that match
[22:25] <deanIZdean> that fucking ruled
[22:25] <deanIZdean> This tape is great
[22:25] <deanIZdean> did you want to stop there tonight?
[22:25] <Rippa> okay - we can cover the Ladies tomoore
[22:25] <Rippa> yeah
[22:25] <deanIZdean> cool
[22:25] <Rippa> tomorrow too
[22:25] <Rippa> The 8 woman ladies match and the lucha
rumble
[22:25] <deanIZdean> I'll stock up on vaseline intensive
care lotion
[22:26] <Rippa> Its got the really really really young
KAORU in it
[22:26] <deanIZdean> what with Bison being there and
all
[22:26] <deanIZdean> I'
[22:26] <Rippa> we should make sure the pants are
appropriate
[22:26] <deanIZdean> I'm spent
[22:26] <deanIZdean> cool
[22:26] <deanIZdean> tomorrow it is
[22:26] <deanIZdean> Go night Phil
[22:26] <Rippa> Okay - I will talk to you tomorrow
[22:26] <deanIZdean> l
[22:26] <Rippa> So very old
[22:26] <deanIZdean> Cool
Session Close: Mon Mar 24 22:26:41 2003
The Machine/Willie “Da Bomb” Richardson vs. Tweek Phoenix/Adam
Evans
This looks to be a pretty decent-sized crowd, and the
shaky handheld is way back in the dark and there’s overhead fans and it
sounds like live electric guitar and warbled ring announcing and there’s
a Puerto Rican airhorn and it’s chaos, motherfuckin’ chaos. I’m assuming
the black dude in the ring is Willie “Da Bomb” Richardson, and his partner
is some tassle-masked ICP zombie type called The Machine. Hey, I actually
heard the next guy’s name, he’s Tweek Phoenix, so that means his partner
is Adam Evans. Tweek and Adam are of the in-shape, well-built and well-attired
style of the Colt Cabana/Danny Daniels/CM Punk/Ace Steel successful indy
faction. It should be noted that The Machine has 666 emblazoned on his
ass, meaning he is some sort of monstrous machine of evil, and I can dig
on that. There’s some very tinny commentary going on somewhere in the midst
of this tape, and Tweek starts out the show by working some indy-style
Dusty elbows on The Machine. Premise of match is Machine & Da Bomb
are gigantic, and the superior athletic ability of Evans & Phoenix
must overcome this immense size disadvantage. The Machine actually hits
some nice big-man offense, like a t-bone suplex and a throw-off powerbomb.
Da Bomb tags in and puts his girth to work, bombarding the young Evans
with a half-splash clothesline thing of devastation, and then mad slow
drawn out elbowdrops that would make Buddy Landel happier than a fake preacher
getting a blowjob after Sunday school from the cute 15-year-old who he
caught stealing from the collection plate. Here’s how these matches work
– the winning tag teams are entered into a battle royal at the end of the
night which will crown the new Revolution champion. Wonderful dastardly
tag moves as Tweek whips Da Bomb into the ropes and Evans holds the rope
down so the big man goes through, then a pescado to the outside. Da Bomb
makes for a very odd Ricky Morton, but he’s taken a terrible beaten from
his tiny opponents, but finally makes the HELLISH HOT TAG TO THE SATANIC
BABYFACE! The Machine actually busts out a running senton. But wait, Da
Bomb goes for a pin and The Machine kicks him, and they now fight each
other, losing complete sight of the all-important gold they must win this
tag battle to qualify for a shot at later in the evening. Indy wrestlers
are fuckin’ simple. They make up, and as they go for some stupid double
thrust with Evans and Phoenix back to back center-ring, of course there’s
the ol’ duck away, and the troubled team punch each other, with Richardson
getting pinned for the loss. The Machine is gonna be so pissed, he’s gonna
have to play Killswitch real fuckin’ loud tonight riding home, title-less,
in his Chevy Cavalier.
Ace Steel/Airborne Vito Thomaselli vs. Jimmy Jacobs/Cameron
Cage
Hey, Ace Steel comes out, that’s awesome. Ace Steel is
better than any indy wrestler you’re currently jocking right now, and I
fully endorse his crazy run the ropes real fast ring entrance maniacalness.
Steel’s partner is Airborne Vito Thomaselli. They are facing Jimmy Jacobs
and some other guy who’s name I didn’t completely catch, but I think it
was Terrence Cage maybe? Steel immediately punches some announcer dude
or something, creating pre-match tension between him and his partner Thomaselli.
Airborne and Jacobs kick things off, and do the standard indy let’s armbar
and reverse and backslide the fuck out of each other. Ace Steel tags in
and is so fuckin’ good at so many simple things, like jerking his head
with punches so his dyed hair flops backwards, making even a meek poke
look violent as fuck. He takes control though and works Jacobs over for
a while with a nice menagerie of technical, yet evil moves. He and Airborne
hit a nice double team maneuver, but that little upstart Jimmy Jacobs refuses
to lay down for the three. Other dude tags in for Jacobs, and gets worked
by Ace Steel, a most fluent practitioner of the professional variety of
wrestling. Were I given a few grand to book a one-night indy tourney, I’d
probably blow it by going to Rodanthe with it and getting drunk on the
Outer Banks, and if whoever gave me that money told me he might not cut
my fuckin’ throat if I could get him some quality wrestlers for his stupid
played-out one-night tourney bullshit, I’d tell him Ace Steel pretty early
on in that conversation. Team Jacobs does a nifty team slingshot side suplex
on Airborne Thomaselli. Steel becomes the wicked deliverer of uppercuts,
and all four men hit the ring, breaking this into the portion where dudes
get hit with devastating moves, but a diving partner breaks up every pin.
After Steel knocks the other guy out the ring, Jacobs comes off the top
rope with a Mil Mascarito splash, but gets caught and Steel does all sorts
of stylish, mean, nastiness to pin him real quick, and then Ace, not being
of the simple indy mindset of the aforementioned dudes from that first
match, does the same stylish, mean, nastiness to Airborne Vito Thomaselli,
in hopes of pre-eliminating him from the title battle royal.
Bill E. Valentine/J.J. Drake vs. Ryan Boz/Jason Allen
Bill E. Valentine is an Alex Wrightesque heel in dancing
nature and build, who attempts to kill himself immediately by diving on
his unprepared partner, J.J. Drake. Jason Allen has glorious long blonde
hair, and the wonderfully elegant Eryn is ringside for one of these teams.
Oh yeah, Ryan Boz is Allen’s partner, and as I start to pay attention,
Valentine and Boz are doing the old test of strength start-up, and this
Boz is a burly looking motherfucker. Boz and Allen do an awesome move where
Boz spinebusters up Valentine off the ropes, and Allen follows up with
a lionsault, and of course, they don’t get the pin because this is indy
wrestling in the year 2003, where people refuse to allow devastating moves
appear to be actually devastating. Valentine does a wonderful slap-kick,
and I’m not too interested in this here J.J. Drake dude. Well, I take that
back, as he just dumped Jason Allen on his longhaired head. Allen does
this awesome deal where he leapfrogs over an attempted back body drop by
Valentine, Allen lands on the other side of him, then does a flip, grabbing
Valentine in the flip to go for the sunset pinfall; if you’re a skinny
dude with longhair in a wrestling ring, you better be able to do shit like
that. Boz is indy-style workrate-era Steiner boy, and he rules, nailing
a wicked piledriver to pin Valentine while Allen does his second lionsault
for a pin on the other dude. And Eryn accompanies them, so she’ll be back
later tonight, and not enough women have hair down to their ass.
Apollo Starr/Chuckie
Smooth vs. CM Punk/Acid
Apollo Starr is your hip hop-infused, dreadlocked, black
man in motherfuckin’ effect, and he is teamed with Britney Spears’ boyfriend,
Chuckie Smooth. A lot of people who spend too much time reading shit about
wrestling on the internet talk about how great the “commentaries” of guys
like Steve Corino or CM Punk are, but I can tell you, in my rampant time-wastings
of the internet variety, there are no better website commentators than
Chuckie Smooth or Spyder Nate Webb. Chuckie Smooth has to beat up some
other dude to be in this match, so he does, and he’s wearing a Green Lantern
shirt, and now he’s in the match. He knocks out the other dude and asks
him questions like, “Hey, are you still in this match tonight?” and then
answers himself in a high-pitched voice, “No, I’m not!” Great great shit.
And then, if that weren’t enough small town superstardom by him, Smooth
says he’s going back to come out to his new entrance music – classic Eazy
E from the Eazy Duz It days. The antithesis of Smooth – CM Punk – comes
out in all his straight edge glory, and with the World being as fucked
up as it is, I just can’t see being straight edge at all. Of course, I’m
sitting here with no future, broke, drinking beer while watching some shitty
fake wrestling from some VFW Hall in Chicago, so I guess that doesn’t mean
much as a public service announcement. I can’t even imagine life without
getting fucked up at least once in a while. Punk does his “better than
you” spiel, and most chant boring, but it looks like one dude in a bandana
wants to fight him. I can respect Punk’s penchant for starting riots, and
I guess if the World is as fucked up as I say, then him being straight
edge to the core makes him the ultra-heel. He should go to Puerto Rico
and wrestle; that’d be great. Punk’s partner is Acid, who is like on every
fuckin’ tape I’ve ever gotten of Chicago indy wrestling, yet I’ve never
seen him in the haunts of other midwestern wrestling fame, like MAW or
IWA Mid South or nothing. Just Chicago. As Punk and Acid argue ringside,
Apollo Starr hits a plancha on Punk, and then Smooth smoothacanranas Acid.
Ahh, the awesome added angle of mismatched teams trying to advance, as
Starr has Acid in a pinning predicament, Punk runs in and stomps Starr,
but as Starr falls off, Punk just keeps stomping on his shitty partner
underneath. I dig this Apollo Starr motherfucker; he’s ring fluent and
malevolent and as competent as you’d expect considering the crew of guys
who float around this scene. Man, there’s all sorts of indy awesomeness
going on – bandana dude in the front row, who seems to be holding a beer,
goes over to Punk, and Punk spits on him, some girl sits bandana dude back
down, Acid holds Starr out across his knee for that Midnight Express style
Eaton legdrop from the top, and as Punk plays Beautiful Bobby, Acid moves
aside with Starr after Punk is airborn, and then sidewalk slams Starr,
and the real staged event and the pissing off of people who paid to legitimize
the staging and all sorts of wonderful professional wrestling live things
are going on. The wide-angled handheld shot can be disturbing and hard
to follow, but when you get to see fans get spit on or some drunk chick
show her tits or three hundred Mexicans throw chairs at the ring, it’s
more than worth it. Punk finally knocks Acid out the ring and for the first
time actually willingly, workedly, takes part in the match, and he completely
obliterates Smooth with all sorts of terrible looking things. This is sort
of mega-killer how Punk and Acid mock and hate each other, yet Punk is
so fuckin’ good he can destroy the other two guys, who are both good as
well. It sets up for wonderful Punk vs. Acid bullshit in the title battle
royal later tonight. And to add insult to grudgery, Acid hits a styles
clash on Apollo across Punk’s unbeered belly, and rolls Apollo up for the
win. And then Punk and Acid beat each other up all the way to the back.
Such is their unbridled hatred for each other, as they are probably beating
on each other in the next room, not even caring they’re not in a room with
a sixteen foot wrestling ring or a bunch of people watching them.
Vic Capri vs. Raven
Vic Capri doesn’t have his greasy hair anymore, but he’s
still a first-class dick, and out he comes to incur the hatred, accompanied
by the wayward yet lovable Eryn. Capri will be facing Raven, who wears
uglier skirts than the sum median of a pack of art school pseudo-lesbians
riding to an Ani DiFranco concert in 1995, though to his credit, Raven’s
boots are nicer. They do a couple of corner beatdowns that suck, and I’m
not digging this particular high dollar indy match nearly as much as I
would’ve expected. Raven seems to be in the “I’m a superstar and don’t
need to work hard” mode at this point in his life. The fight goes outside,
and I can’t see a lot of it, but there is some dark-haired chick with giant
tits well in camera range, going in for a closer view. Raven does an elbowdrop
off the bar, then another, and big-titty chick is wearing some weird patchwork
blue jeans, and stands on a chair and the girl with her has a hand on her
ass, and the drunken indy wrestling lesbian suggestions of this thrill
me. Worked violence goes on, and I know it’s awesome because some dude
holds his beer high up in the air in approval, yelling "WHOO!" They get
back to the ring, and Capri is on the upper hand tip, and Raven doesn’t
seem to be selling things too well. I once saw a WCW house show, well I
was selling sodas at it, and Raven is my actual name on my birth certificate,
and the fake Raven had ten thousand people chanting “Raven sucks! Raven
sucks!” and it made me sad to my heart; but he was the only guy the whole
night who actually sold anything post-match. Everyone else just sort of
got up after the match was over and strolled back to the locker room; Raven
lost to a diamond cutter and laid in the ring for a good four or five minutes,
then gradually staggered and clutched his way up the ropes to a standing
position; it was great. Motherfuckers need to be more conscious of that
type of shit. Capri slaps a sleeperhold on Raven, and I hereby make a watching-wrestling-with-beer
drinking rule to drink immaturely for the sleeper, in honor of growing
up a young buck, listening to Johnny Weaver do color on World Wide Wrestling.
I don’t actually remember Don Meredith singing “turn out the lights, the
party’s over…” from my youth, only Johnny Weaver doing it when the jobber
finally did the job. As they first tease the DDT, we have the worst ref
bump I’ve ever seen in my life, and Ace Steel gets involved, but Raven
still kicks out at two because he’s a SUPERSTAR! Raven is interfered with
by Eryn, and he drags her in the ring and spanks her. Terrible behavior
by a role model babyface. There's the DDT and Raven wins, but CM Punk and
Ace Steel are back out to beat down upon the well-paid Raven.
Battle Royal for RCW
Heavyweight title
Soon enough that clears out, and we have our battle royal
for the title. Let’s see, who’s in this? You’re gonna have Adam Evans,
Tweek Phoenix, Ace Steel, that Airborne Thomaselli dude, Ryan Boz, his
metalhead partner, CM Punk, and Acid. Well, Punk and Steel are the two
top dudes, and they just displayed heelish camaraderie in beating up Raven,
so I guess the distraught first round partners of both – Thomaselli and
Acid – will be our saviors here. Steel and Punk are in the ring already,
and everybody else seems to be coming out one by one, and I’m not sure
what the rules are, but this seems like a whole lot of brouhaha before
a match to me. Oh, it seems all non-Punk and Steel people are in cahoots
to take them out. Wait, maybe there’s ten people. Well, three people are
eliminated. Jason Allen, true to his longhaired tag specialist roots, gets
tossed, but holds the top rope and gets back in. Thomaselli does the same
thing when Boz throws him over, and when Boz comes to the ropes to finish
the job, leg scissor elimination for his troubles. We are down to Thomaselli
and Acid and Punk and Steel. Dig? The partners of the first round matches
are now opponents, and all dynamics have changed, and one of these guys
will have to win. Punk and Steel do a Jimmy Valiant and Rufus R. Jones
butt bump center ring, and that’s worthy of a swig of alcohol. Seeing his
green hair, you’d think Acid was a piece of shit, but he ain’t afraid to
come hard with the knees to the eyeball or the chops or anything. “These
guys are running on adrenaline,” said tinned out commentator a table or
two over, and the rush of performing strange combat rituals in front of
an eager audience, I’d imagine that’s great. Excitement releases dopamine
into the brain to make you feel fuckin’ killer awesome, and CM Punk, as
a stoked pro wrestler, obviously gets off, so to speak, on that excitement,
which is basically a drug. You can say it’s naturally occurring, and not
manifested, but what’s more natural, smoking a joint of some homegrown
the dude down the road grew this year, or pretending to bludgeon your best
friend on a roped stage in front of giddy humans who paid money to look
at you all be sweaty and athletic yet not actually compete against each
other in actual sport? Yeah, no doubt…Mr. CM Punk’s straight edge wrestling
lifestyle seems like a pretty roundabout way towards getting high to me.
Acid is almost eliminated, but tucks back under the bottom rope. Thomaselli
echoes his elimination of Ryan Boz, but Punk pushes off his leg scissors
attempt, which was good enough to eliminate others but not Punk, and Airborne
is grounded, leaving three men, and Acid as your defiant face facing seemingly
insurmountable odds. Raven is back in, and he punches Punk and Steel, and
the fans blow their air horns, and Acid again stands a chance. He picks
up Steel to throw him over the top rope, but as he gets close, Punk jumps
up and flips over both men, abandoning his only comrade in Steel, and showing
his true snake nature. Steel lurks in the ring behind him, and I imagine
some sort of face-off is about to happen. Yep, and through his gestures
it seems Punk explains he thought Steel was hooking the top rope. But Punk
wins, and it’d be awesome if that meant they could no longer serve alcohol
at the bar. If I was Raven, rather than collect my pay, I’d say do that
and I’d cover the losses by the bar. Steel and Punk get ready to fight,
and the crowd cheers they’re breaking apart, but they hug and smile and
make fools of all of you. Punk starts to mocking the fans. He hits his
“I’m better than you” spiel again, for good measure, and then out.
EPILOGUE
FIRST STAR OF THE TAPE: CM Punk. I know I ride him for
being straight edge, and his promos in Major League Wrestling seemed boring
at times, but he’s very good, both in the ring and on the mic. I think
if the pro wrestling allowed more leash length for creative meanderings,
like it did back in the glory days of whatever you like the most personally,
Punk could rule it. And he still can within today’s context, but I refuse
to believe that motherfucker doesn’t take painkillers from time to time.
Or is prescribed medicine acceptable by today’s pussy-ass straight edge
standards. I mean, true OG straight edge was about not even having sex,
but you don’t see motherfuckers marking that on their hands in sharpie
that much, do you?
SECOND STAR OF THE TAPE: Chuckie Smooth. The guy is a rock star, plain and simple. With the emergence of rap, and then shitty R&B coated rap, as today’s music moneymaker of choice, the rock star has faded into memory, replaced by shitheads in Adidas jumpsuits and backwards baseball caps who would never do even half enough drugs to warrant a complete blood transfusion every six months like an oil change ala Keith Richards in his heyday. So the community job of rock star falls into the lap of good-time-searching, regular-job-hating, sad sacks of fun-to-be-around shit like Chuckie Smooth.
THIRD STAR OF THE TAPE: Ace Steel. I think Ace Steel is the best white wrestler going today, which means he’s better than every Oriental and black man I can think of, and if I had to sit down and ponder it for a while, I’d probably come up with a couple of Mexican wrestlers better, but I’d have to try, so he’s at least top five in the World, and you probably don’t even give a shit about him because nobody’s told you to love on him yet. Well, love on him, because nothing is forever, and he might be a glam rocker with a flying V guitar managed by Lita with a perm on WWE TV before you get a chance to dig the real deal Ace Steel.
~!~
|
2003 – The Year that Wuz
(by MIKE NAIMARK)
Wonderful winter greetings to you, dear reader, from the magnificent mountains of colorful Colorado, home of Pat Smith, the “most craziest” fighter in UFC history and the site of the first-ever American Vale Tudo event, UFC 1! Has it really been 10 years since the Ultimate Fighting Championship first sought to address the burning question which had been the subject of debate for decades – whether karate was better than kung-fu? Ten years of mixed fortunes for this young sport in North America, from the booming PPV revenues of the early-90s to the political chokeout administered by content providers beholden to professional boxing, finally emerging in 2003 with a smidgen of respectability and enough profit potential to lure the grandest fighting organization in the world to American shores. Both the UFC and the Japanese PRIDE promotion had their moments of brilliance in 2003, and the smaller promotions such as Shooto, Pancrase, and King of the Cage all provided some evidence that the sport continues to have a bright future, even if progress hasn’t been as meteoric as some might have predicted some years back. But enough about ancient history! Let’s focus on more current events and consider the accomplishments of the best and brutal-ist in 2003. As has been our tradition in these year-end MMA reviews, we’ll have separate awards for both PRIDE and the UFC, as well as one for the rest of the combined promotions. And of course, the highly coveted Paul Varelans Memorial Award, which was hotly perused by a host of walking punching bags on three continents! Ultimate Fighting Championship Fighter of the Year Nominees: 1) Matt Hughes: Hughes continued his streak of UFC dominance which stretches all the way back to 2001 when he defeated a crazed primate wielding a femur in an unsanctioned challenge match shortly before winning the UFC’s 170lb division title from Carlos Newton. In 2003 he was as dominant as always despite the lack of promotional focus or effort on his behalf from Zuffa Entertainment, owners of the UFC. His two main-event victories in 2003 were both against excellent and skilled fighters, neither of whom had ever appeared on a UFC broadcast prior to making their televised UFC debuts in main events. Hughes dispatched Sean Sherk in April with a solid performance against an extremely powerful wrestler who boasted a 15-0-1 record before being flattened by the Hughes steamroller. In November Hughes engaged in a wrestling clinic against the even more accomplished international star Frank Trigg, whose own visits to PRIDE and Shooto left him with a gaudy 10-1 record which included a controversial win over Dennis Hallman, a fighter who had submitted Hughes twice. Hughes overwhelmed Trigg with technique and scored a quick submission with a rear-naked choke for his 5th straight title defense. Hughes may well be the most dominant UFC champion since a scrawny little fellow out of Brazil showed the world a trick or two back in the early days. 2) Randy Couture: What a difference a year makes! Randy Couture ended 2002 amidst rumors that age had robbed the 38 year-old former heavyweight champion of his ability to compete at the elite level. Following two consecutive losses to much larger heavyweights in Josh Barnett and Ricco Rodriguez, Couture decided to drop down from his usual 220lb fighting weight to the 205lb limit and renew his career in the UFC’s light-heavyweight division, considered by many to be the most competitive and stacked division in the promotion. First up for Couture was the man that even the UFC’s light-heavyweight champion seemed reluctant to meet – the anti-grappling knockout artist Chuck Liddell, undefeated since 1999 and coming off a brutal KO of the excellent Brazilian fighter Renato ‘Babalu’ Sobral. With Couture dropping down to a new weight division and facing the most feared striker it had to offer, very few prognosticators gave Randy more than a passing chance at even emerging from the meeting in a standing position. Oddsmakers gave Liddell a 3-1 advantage. Couture took obvious relish in the lack of respect he received going in to the bout, and then proved the expects to be fools as he completely dominated the feared Liddell is every aspect of the game, beating the knockout artist’s looping power shots with quick, straight blows and then closing in for a series of powerful high-impact takedowns which even Liddell, perhaps the hardest man in MMA to keep on his back, eventually found himself unable to escape. Couture’s 3rd round TKO over the fighter Tito Ortiz refused to fight suddenly empowered the reluctant Tito, and the brash champion quickly agreed to return to the Octagon and meet Couture. Ortiz’s power and grappling had laid every fighter he’d faced on their backs, where he would then methodically punish them with brutal elbows and punches in a bloody pummeling. Against the elite Greco Roman wrestler, however, it was Tito who repeatedly found himself on his back, desperately trying to avoid the punishment Couture was dealing. After a completely one-sided drubbing, Tito was left deflated in the middle of the ring, crying, as Randy Couture was awarded the UFC light-heavyweight championship by unanimous decision. 3) Matt Lindland: A teammate of Randy Couture’s (and the man who actually owns the facilities where Team Quest practices their dominant blend of wrestling and more wrestling), Olympic silver-medalist Lindland actually ended 2003 with a loss on his record owing to a bizarre incident in his first match against Falaniko Vitale in June. Lindland, the elite Greco Roman wrestler, actually suplexed Vitale on top of his own head, knocking Lindland unconscious and handing the huge upset win to Vitale in his UFC debut. Lindland quickly avenged the flukish loss in decisive fashion, pounding Vitale mercilessly at UFC 45 for the TKO. 2003 also saw Lindland dominate wannabe nemesis Phil Baroni to earn a second straight decision over the braggadocios New Yorker despite the obvious efforts from the referee to keep the match standing, where Baroni was perceived to have an advantage. And the UFC’s 2003 Fight of the Year Award goes to….. RANDY COUTURE, who celebrated his 40th birthday as perhaps the #1 fighter in the world at 205lb. Prior to Couture rewriting the conventional wisdom, it was believed that beating both Chuck Liddell and Tito Ortiz in the Octagon would be neigh-impossible. Randy Couture made the impossible look positively mundane in 2003. Match of the Year Nominees: 1) Randy Couture vs. Chuck Liddell, UFC 43 6/6/03: The match that stunned the MMA world and did the impossible – it brought Tito Ortiz out of exile. 2) Randy Couture vs. Tito Ortiz, UFC 45 9/26/03: The match that stunned the MMA world and did the impossible – reducing Tito Ortiz to a crying little girl in mid-Octagon. 3) Matt Lindland vs. Phil Baroni, UFC 41 2/28/03: A rematch between the top two remaining UFC fighters in the 185lb division, both desperately hoping to fill the void left by Murilo Bustamante’s departure. Both men exerted every iota of energy they could muster, and the ending with Baroni raining massive kidney punches down on Lindland as time dwindled away ranks among the most masochistic efforts I’ve ever witness in a fight. 4) Duane Ludwig vs. Genki Sudo, UFC 42 4/25/03: In the UFC’s forgotten 155lb division, two young flamboyant fighters engaged in a thrilling battle of nonstop activity and excitement. The controversy surrounding Ludwig’s emancipation from Sudo’s ground game in order to check on a cut actually resulting in the UFC changing their rules to prevent fighters from getting such “free escapes” as a result of getting cuts inspected by the ringside physician. And the UFC’s 2003 Match of the Year Award goes to…. DUANE LUDWIG vs. GENKI SUDO, two young studs who didn’t need a belt or massive hype to deliver a thrilling bout which featured deft grappling, electric striking, and more changes in momentum than a well-booked pro-wrestling match. Naturally neither man has competed in the UFC since, and Ludwig recently signed a year-long contract with K-1 MAX, where he hopes to rematch Sudo in a striking-only bout. ‘Rookie’ of the Year Nominees: A new award to recognize the fighters whose debuts had the most impact in a given promotion. To qualify, fighters must be debuting with fewer than 10 professional matches and not have previously appeared in the UFC, PRIDE, Pancrase, or Shooto. 1) Wes Sims: The monster out of Mark Coleman’s ‘Hammer House’ team made a memorable debut against submissions wizard Frank Mir at UFC 43. Seemingly overwhelmed after a Mir takedown, Sims managed to avoid numerous submission attempts before clambering to his feet and dropping Mir on his head to escape an armbar. Sims then followed up by repeatedly stomping on Mir’s head, a clear violation of the UFC’s rules, which earned him a disqualification. At 0-1 in the UFC, the massive Sims nonetheless made his debut one of the most talked-about bouts of the year. 2) Karo Parisyan: The feisty Armenian judoka brought little hype to his UFC debut beyond that provided by his pedigree as a student of both the master grappler Gokor Chivichyan and the bizarre Gene LeBell, whose reputation in the submission arts is rivaled only by his status as the unpredictable, incomprehensible ‘Lou Albano of Fighting’. In Parisyan’s debut against veteran Dave Strasser, the debuting youngster made judo look as sexy as a phone booth full of PRIDE girls, tossing the perplexed wrestler around the ring with deft ease using a variety of slick techniques before finally ending the match with a textbook Kimura armlock. 3) Jorge Rivera: Considered a significant underdog in his UFC 44 debut against Canadian star David Loiseau, Rivera looked ready to prove his detractors correct in the early going, absorbing serious punishment and bleeding heavily from Louseau’s assault. But displaying enormous heart and enviable stamina, Rivera survived and began to turn the tables on a stunned Louiseau with a violent striking assault that left the Canadian champion reeling and battered on the way to a unanimous decision victory. And the UFC’s 2003 ‘Rookie’ of the Year Award goes to…. KARO PARISYAN, who showed that you don’t need a gi to make judo look more awesome than ninjitsu and Wing Chun combined. His dominant manhandling of a respected veteran fighter may be the most influential technical match of the year. PRIDE Fighting Championships Fighter of the Year Nominees: 1) Fedor Emelianenko: Although a well-respected powerhouse whose heavy hands and solid wrestling were well-known going in to 2003, nobody expected Fedor to accomplish what he did the way he did it. Facing the best all-around heavyweight fighter I personally have ever witnessed, Fedor Emelianenko completely dominated the heavyweight champion Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira from nearly the opening bell on the way to a one-sided judge’s decision. Fedor fought twice more for PRIDE in 2003 in defense of his title, dispatching the concrete-skulled Kazuyuki Fujita by chokeout and beating Gary Goodridge mercilessly in one of the most one-sided championship bouts ever. 2) Vanderlei Silva: Silva spent much of 2003 in the corner of his fellow Chute Boxe teammates and didn’t enter the ring until September, when he found himself the #1 seed in PRIDE’s spectacular Middleweight (205lb) Grand Prix event. Against a stacked field of outstanding fighters, Silva once against distanced himself from the pack by winning the tournament in decisive fashion, knocking out Kazushi Sakuraba in the first round of the tournament before defeating Olympic gold-medalist judoka Hidehiko Yoshida and red-hot American superstar Quinton ‘Rampage’ Jackson in decisive fashion on the very same night to be crowned Grand Prix Champion. 3) Quinton ‘Rampage’ Jackson: Despite his tournament-finals loss to Vanderlei Silva, Quinton Jackson had a spectacular star-making year in 2003. ‘Rampage’ racked up big KO’s and TKOs against Kevin Randleman, Mikahil Illoukhine, and Chuck Liddell, and decisioned the always-excellent Murilo Bustamante to advance past the first round in the star-studded PRIDE Grand Prix. Jackson’s high-impact style of fighting and his brash, comical persona quickly endeared him to Japanese fans and left many UFC fans scratching their heads wondering why you needed to travel to Japan to see such an exciting, marketable American fighter. 4) Mirko ‘CroCop’ Filipovic: No other fighter generated the ‘buzz’ attributable to this fearsome Croatian fighting machine. Looking every bit the real embodiment of Ivan Drago, the 6’2 210lb member of the Croatian Special Forces spent most of 2003 dispatching his unfortunate opponents with brutal precision. Filipovic opened 2003 with a dominant win over Heath Herring in a match that saw ‘CroCop’ easily avoid Herring’s takedown attempt and brutalize the 250lb Texan with rapid, powerful strikes before ending the match with a kick to the body which left Herring begging off with two broken ribs. Filipovic then destroyed none other than the ‘Russian Concussion’ Igor Vovchanchyn with a single kick to the head that will make highlight reels for the next decade. After an easy knockout of Dos Caras Jr. with another kick to the head, Filipovic was matched against former PRIDE heavyweight champion Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira in a match to determine who would get the next shot at PRIDE’s heavyweight title. ‘CroCop’ dominate |