Fire up the Generic Wrestling Event Name Generator, Folks!
I’ve decided to immerse myself in the ridiculously bad (I’ve always preferred the ridiculous to the sublime, I suppose) and write about it. Because if I were to report on and rate New Japan and All Elite Wrestling product, I’d have trouble finding the fun and enjoyment of constantly praising and acknowledging immense and consistent quality. AEW absolutely stuck the landing on the wrestling world’s most acrobatic and important leap of faith, with The Rhodes boys absolutely over-delivering and Wrestling’s “Elite” creating a declaration of fierce competition not seen in Pro Wrestling for 2 decades. New Japan shocked the world with Jon “Dean Ambrose” Moxley joining the likes of Kazuchika Okada, Kota Ibushi, Tetsuya Naito and Tomohiro Ishii – among the best professional wrestlers in the world. And NXT just wrapped up one of its greatest TakeOver events of all time (in all fairness, you can apply that to just about any TakeOver).
It’s an exciting time to be a fan. And that’s what makes this juxtaposition so much more satisfying. I get to review a dying, outdated, clueless, sinking ship of a product! No Painmaker VS Rainmaker over here….just Big Dogs and Shane O’Macs!
KICKOFF SHOW: THE USOS VS THE REVIVAL
Mediocrity abounds in this straightforward, take-no-chances formulaic tag team opener. I don’t care how badly Scott Dawson wanted to awesome up this affair (at one point he doesn’t just grab an Uso’s thick head of hair – he twirls it around in his fist and cinches it into a knot), both he and Dash Wilder’s inherent awesomeness get completely stomped out by the time we’re at the ref distraction spot . I spent a lot of time during this one daydreaming about a Revival/Young Bucks match and what that would look and feel like, especially given that the Usos are a watered down version of the Bucks. Actually, given the confines of WWE in-ring work, calling it that isn’t quite enough. It’s like taking a sip of corn syrup flavoring then immediately gulping down a gallon of water. There’s a bunch of superkicks and the Usos take out the ever-languishing Revival boys. Approx 7 minutes, *3/4
SETH ROLLINS (UNIVERSAL CHAMPION) VS BARON CORBIN
Seth Rollins, Universal Champion Curtainjerker. The formula: Corbin attacks the injured mid-section of Rollins, Rollins hangs on valiantly, then moves onto the suicide dive-based comeback. A glaring thing here: Corbin could do well to wrestle more like a big man and emphasize any size advantage in that way. The only bearhug is busted out as a mat-based bodylock. A few well-timed suplexes would go a long way in establishing power and strength dominance. Corbin rolls out of the ring after a suicide dive to avoid a pin, but eats an immediate follow-up dive. Later, he feigns greater injury and rolls out again, only to greet Rollins’ third attempt with a forearm. Just as things pick up, we’re treated to the most idiotic sequence of events possible, as Corbin tries to bring a chair into the ring, the ref convinces him to put it away (like Corbin wasn’t aware of championship rules to begin with), then Corbin choose to turn his back on his opponent to yell at the ref, and then nameless ref stands up for himself, leading to Rollins rolling up the hapless Corbin. As if we needed more convincing that this guy exists only to amuse Paul and Vince, but hey, if you’re amusing Paul and Vince, you’re working. This finish wasn’t the regular garbage. This was insulting garbage. Approx 11 minutes, **
Corbin has to get End of Days in, so as Rollins writhes in pain, out comes Brock Lesnar with the Money in the Bank briefcase and Paul Heyman in tow. Heyman trips up while entering the ring, distracting Brock, and Rollins is able to hit the low-blow and grab a chair. Rollins smashes Brock like a man looking to draw blood (and exact sweet sweet vengeance?) Brock is left a broken, bloody heap. The announcers completely no-sold the point of Heyman’s trip up acting as a distraction, instead focusing on the low blow as a callback to Wrestlemania. I’d also like to take this moment to express my fascination with the Muslim culture being exposed to and accepting extreme forms of occultism and Paganism via the imagery from Brock’s entrance and Seth Rollins’ tshirt. Pro Wrestling: gateway to Hell (and if you’re watching this show, believe me, you are in HELL)
(Note: I discovered later on that Aleistar Black’s tattoos were apparently too high on the Satan Scale, but I like to think that’s just an excuse for the fact that creative had nothing for him.)
ANDRADE VS THE DEMON FINN BALOR
Here’s a positive: Finn nails the entrance. Just the right level of satanic goodness, unveiling on a riser and striking a Gene Simmons-inspired human bat pose. The actual make-up this time is reminiscent of The Boogeyman. Cole talks about Andrade’s “Mexican, Japanese style of wrestling” (translation: “good” wrestling). It’s a rather pedestrian affair (especially for 2 of the absolute best in the world) until we’re jarred out of our seats by Finn nailing a driver-version of the 1916 reverse DDT. Not to geek out too much here but it’s these small moments courtesy of guys like Andrade and Finn that remind us of the roots of some of the best in the business. There is a willingness to take these kinds of dangerous bumps (for Andrade, this was most evident throughout his NXT run) and thus deliver them reciprocally, that has to be admired. And what’s more, the only reason they’re able to get away with it is a deep, well-earned respect from the locker room straight to the top of the company. That’s your real Japanese influence, Michael Cole – tradition, respect, and professionalism in the ring. Moving on, Andrade busts out a scintillating tumbling soccer kick to remind us that he is MOTHERFUCKING ANDRADE CIEN ALMAS. The double moonsault backfires (and is slightly botched, as usual), and then Andrade keeps flipping, this time attempting a sunset flip powerbomb to the outside, only to get stomped on the apron. A stomp here, a kickout of Andrade’s hammerlock DDT finisher, a stomp there, and The Demon remains undefeated and curiously unquestioned by KISS Corp. My rating is likely generous as I’m just dying to award snowflakes to justify sitting through this show, and this is the workrate match, after all. 12 min, **3/4
“BEST IN THE WORLD” SHANE McMAHON w/DREW McINTYRE VS ROMAN REIGNS
They’re not even trying to overbook this anymore. Shane is just straight-up hanging with their Ace, countering, reversing, etc. After he chops Roman’s leg to counter the spear, Shane applies…a head-and-arm leglock choke? At least when The Undertaker incorporated the Hell’s Gate Gogoplata he was wearing MMA gloves, not a 90’s high school kit. Naturally, Reigns powerbombs out, then continues his struggle to gain an advantage. McIntyre does a poor job being the hired heavy, eating a Superman punch on the outside. Shane sets up for the Van Terminator, I mean “Coast to Coast”, and eats his own Superman punch, but Roman’s finishing manoeuvres have NO HOPE against a man such as Shane. After the kickout, I could swear the crowd started chanting “CM Punk” and I’m going to stick with believing it. Shane takes a solid shot and collides with the ref, McIntyre runs in and hits the claymore, and Shane grabs the pin and keeps rackin’ em up. Cue the big fireworks celebration for Shane, who continues to deliver horrible segments and matches, creating a black hole that sucks everything into its horrible vaccum creating a whirling suck that plows through every TV show, pay per view and special. No Asuka. No Rusev. No Ricochet. No War Machine Viking Raiders Experience. But plenty of the Whirling Suck of Shane. Approx 10 minutes, ¾*
Say what you will about the dicey politics and economics of the Saudi Arabia deal (my take: they anticipated just how quickly criticism would blow over, and it blew over even faster because there are less and less who really care enough about this product to begin with – it’s a pathway to destruction, gilded in gold) but hearing the Jeddeh crowd toss out chants like “Na Na Hey Hey” to Brock, and “This is Awesome” during Balor/Andrade….that was kind of heartwarming and felt like one of those unifying moments on the most basic human level.
They repeatedly show us a thermometer reading of the actual temperature in the Desert Kingdom and the “real feel” temperature in the ring (it’s over 100 degrees). I think it’s to make us nervously anticipate watching The Undertaker slowly fade away over the course of the 4 minute match we’ll be treated to later on.
Kofi is backstage getting amped up. Xavier Woods steadily increasing the volume and insanity of his screaming as we fade out (“Let’s go Kof! Let’s GO Kof! LET’SGOWWWKOWWFFFF”) is absolutely brilliant comedy. We get a clip of Lars Sullivan talking about bodily fluids, and you can’t help but miss that Silhoutte entrance from NXT as we hear the opening notes of Sullivan’s doomy entrance theme.
LARS SULLIVAN VS THE LUCHA HOUSE PARTY
Lars does some smashing and bashing and starts bleeding from the mouth somewhere along the way, because when Lars is in there with Luchadores he MUST bleed. When the big man attempts a trip to the top rope to outdo the masked men at their own game, they triple team him and the ref calls for the bell. This is a great encapsulation of all the errors in WWE booking that leave everyone looking bad in one way or the other. Getting disqualified and triple teaming a guy is never a good look. And Lars can’t finish these guys, which takes him down a notch as the new monster in town. NO ONE BENEFITS. But the way the mind of a WWE booker works, allowing LHP to get their big moves in and then take a hellacious beating from Sullivan post-match, justifies the finish. It’s absolutely remarkable how this goes on and no one notices the obvious reason their characters stagnate and live on a lame line of boring equivalency. Approx 6 minutes, WTF½
RANDY ORTON VS TRIPLE H
Time for the Triple H slot on this WRESTLEMANIA OR BETTER card. DECADES OF DOMINANCE for Trips and Orton, proclaims the promo package. DECADES OF DUMBINANCE I SAY! Let’s get this over with. Trips out on his Trips Tricycle. Slowly. Sooo very slowly. “See Cody? I sit on BIKES now, sucker!” NXT chant fires up, so get ready for NXT TakeOver Jeddeh, coming soon (likely post-Velveteen Dream call-up, wink wink nudge nudge). We get the usual plodding tests of strength , punches and kicks, both guys just masters of setting a snail-slow pace. Orton executes his backdrop-into-announce table but Triple H’s impressive girth fails to collapse the table. Surprisingly. Now say it with me: CHINLOCK. Chin….lock. Still chinlock. World’s slowest slingshot sends Triple H into the turnbuckles in a moment of hilarity that would make Shawn Michaels proud. Orton fights off a Pedigree attempt, Triple H blocks a draping DDT attempt, and Orton leaves his feet for the Bob Holly-level dropkick THAT MISSES BY A MILE (Trips sells regardless). RKO gets blocked. AND WE’RE 15 MINUTES INTO THIS THING. Like a KISS concert in 2019 they roll through the hits: powerslam, draping DDT, spinebuster, CRIPPLER CROSSFACE? (I see what you did there, Trips), back bodydrop, RKO outta nowhere, kickout, blocked punt (Cole completely revises history and says this was a move from a “young Randy Orton”), pedigree, kickout. Trips tries his hand at tossing Orton through the quadruple-reinforced table, but it’s a no go. What is with these tables in Triple H matches? The Singh Bros just LOOK at a table and it collapses. Fresh off the assault outside the ring, Orton gets rolled back in…and immediately delivers an RKO for the victory. Just…wow. There was absolutely nothing here that added to professional wrestling, this event, the insipid history of this endless feud, or anyone or anything. It was probably a 2 star affair but I want to give it zero favors. Approx 25 Fucking Minutes, *3/4
Wow. I don’t care who it is. Jesus, Allah, Xenu, Jordan Binnington. We all need saving at this point. And pills. ANY PILLS
Here’s a comedy promo featuring R-Truth pinning a sleeping Jinder Mahal (you know, former WWE Champion Jinder Mahal) for his 5th 24/7 Title reign while the superstars are on the flight to Saudi Arabia. That’s kinda funny. He gets chased into the washroom by a gaggle of goobers. ONEY LORCAN SPOTTED! PLUS *! The 24/7 Title is great for the visual comedy and the subtext: that this is what WWE thinks of their undercard. That this was their response to criticism about how they use their talented roster and absentee champions speaks volumes about the deranged mentality of a crumbling company.
LASHLEY VS BRAUN STROWMAN
The man who would have ruled the 1980’s but was born too late, Braun Strowman, continues to get nothing and do nothing with this company. This would be your standard BIG HOSS BATTLE portion of the card. Strowman roars at Lashley, a gigantic, impressive man in his own right. Next to Strowman, he looks like Demetrious Johnson. Truly disturbing. They stumble through some strength and agility spots until Lashley hits a HUGE running powerslam. Once again, the announcers come off completely oblivious as they no-sell the fact that Lashley just hit Strowman with his own finisher. Lashley continues a beatdown, then Strowman finally powers back with some running bodychecks around the ring. 5 minutes into the match and Corey Graves remarks about Strowman’s “cardiovascular endurance”. Lashley casually kicks out of the Strowman Slam, then delivers his own version of the running bodycheck on the outside. HUGE suplex send Strowman into the steel ramp. Lashley gets greedy and heads to the top rope, but Braun cuts him off and delivers back-to-back Strowman Powerslams, and it’s over. Approx 8 mins, ** Nothing actively bad here, it was as good as it could be given the two guys involved.
You know, Strowman has certainly shown some progress in the arena of selling, which is a tough thing for a dominant Big Man to wrap his head around. You know who isn’t a Big Man, and who sucks at selling but seems to get a free pass? Zack Sabre Jr. I mean, the guy is like Goldberg-level with his wide eyes and “shaking it off”. AMIRITE? Come at me, Smarty Smarks!
Ali cuts a “home crowd”-type promo before the battle royale. Ali is incredible, the low key 2018 MVP who languished on 205 Live delivering classic after classic. We can only hope he can survive future encounters with careless part-timers and idiotic bookers. Oh hey, time for the WWE Championship match! You know, to whet your appetite for an inconsequential battle royale and an unnecessary “legends” match. WORLD WRESTLING ENTERTAINMENT STYLE!
DOLPH ZIGGLER VS KOFI KINGSTON (WWE CHAMPION)
So…Ziggler got the shot as a result of sneaking up on the Champ and beating the shit out of him repeatedly. Or, Kevin Owens refused to go to Saudi Arabia. Subtle heel heat from Ziggler as he wears a U.S. Flag on his ass. This was a paint-by-numbers match with DDTs, boomdrops, pinning reversals, and the crowd wasn’t buying any of the nearfalls. It would have been nice to see some fire from Kofi, especially early on. Much like Rollins/Ambrose, a supposed bloodfeud winds up a simple wrestling match. After an SOS, Kofi almost kills himself with the Trust Fall Dive from the top to the outside, and he’s now learned NOT to trust Ziggler, who was clearly busy dreaming up his next agonizing comedy set. Smartly, Ziggler works the back, but after he superkicks a concerned Xavier Woods, Kofi snaps and finally gets amped up. Ziggler ducks the first Trouble in Paradise attempt, but then eats a karmic kick on the apron from Xavier Woods, falling right into a second and successful Trouble in Paradise. Kofi retains and Thank God we’re keeping Dolph strong, because, you know, WORLD WRESTLING ENTERTAINMENT. Total “Kane Match at Backlash”-level Championship Run Filler for good ol’ Kofi. Approx 10 minutes, **1/4
Or, just give me a 50-Man WCW-style Battle Royale. Same deal.
WORLD’S BIGGEST DUMBEST BATTLE ROYALE
Titus slows his roll and steps into the ring gingerly. Elias does a little ditty, and off we go! It’s JOBBERMANIA. The Singhs are bodysurfed out, and enhancement talent just starts spilling out non-stop as Cole calls it “an All-Star field”. AUTHORS OF PAIN SPOTTED! Shot of Curtis Axel lying facedown on the outside mat, where he belongs. VIKING RAIDERS SPOTTED! A bunch of 205ers are sent packing, including their champion Tony Nese, who barely gets a mention. AOP and the Raiders finally bump into Heavy Machinery, and it’s like looking at three meaty generations of wasted potential from NXT. The underwhelming clobbering ends badly for everyone except the Raiders. Titus emerges from underneath the ring, because we have to beat that joke to death, and gets a heat sequence that ends with total annihilation of the Viking Raiders. Really? And who is that, BILLY KIDMAN?! (turns out it was Chad Gable with a haircut). I mean, it’s all too much. US Champ Samoa Joe eliminates both of the RAW Tag champs (Ryder & Hawkins), then takes a little stroll. Gable hits a big German suplex on Shelton Benjamin as they tease what would be a wonderful match in any ring outside of WWE. Richochet is like HAI GUYS and Nakamura is like SUP. Cole finally notices Mansoor getting roughed up by Scott Dawson in there and says, literally, “oh hey. He’s from right here.” Dozovich hits the Caterpillar spot on Rusev and Nakamura, but Rowan doesn’t dig it, and tosses the Dozer. Now it’s rapid fire action as Rowan kicks up the plunder, only to have The Usos double-superkick the big man out. The Revival, lying in wait, take out the Usos and complete the 50/50 WWE booking circle. It’s like CLOCKWORK. Matt Hardy starts screaming DELETE and I dare you to keep track of where he’s at with the gimmick. Cedric Alexander battles with Cesaro but winds up in the Giant Swing and catapaulted out. Miz gets a heat sequence that includes eliminating Bobby Roode, but Elias catches him with a kick for the first truly surprising elimination. Now it’s time spent waiting for things to boil down to Elias, Ali, Joe, Mansoor, Ricochet and Cesaro. Ali and Ricochet battle it out with Joe, then combine for a double Chris Benoit/Big Show apron spot elimination. Cesaro with the HUGE heel heat taking out both high-flyers, but then Mansoor clotheslines out Cesaro! With Elias in there with Mansoor, you get the feeling you know where this is going. Excellent tease as Mansoor hangs onto the ropes, then he backflips Elias out on the apron. Big post-match celeberation and promo in Arabic. Now, it’s back to the NXT undercard. Approx 20 minutes.
I can’t help but feel bad for Ali. Just the optics here – these guys have similar styles, physical frames, haircuts, and are both Muslim. But Ali is the far superior version and can’t seem to catch a break.
NOW LET’S GET THIS OVER WITH.
GOLDBERG VS THE UNDERTAKER
That’s right! No women, but a Jewish guy taking on the Devil himself, hey, no problem.
“GOLD-BERG” chants greet the Hebrew Hammer of the wrestling world, and he’s looking great for 52, but probably the softest we’ve ever seen him. Undie’s entrance is completely Tombs of the Blind Dead Meets Prince of Darkness. We are SOAKING in the occult right now – clearly the chosen motif of modern WWE wrestling. LIVE IN THE KINGDOM OF SAUDI ARABIA! SAMI WHO?
Bell rings, and if you listen closely, you can hear knee and shoulder joints creaking into what sound like screams of fear and panic. HOT START sees Goldberg give the cutthroat signal, UT throw the right hand, and Goldberg bounce off the ropes into THE SPEAR! He gears up and hits another spear, goes for the cover, but UT isn’t having it! Goldberg powers out of a chokeslam attempt, and rolls into a…kneebar? Did he have some falafel with Shane before the show? If Michael Cole utters the phrase “unique offense from Goldberg”, as he does here, you know we’re in big, big trouble. UT grabs the ropes and gets tossed into the turnbuckles, but as Goldberg charges, he gets out of the way and The Bear Jew busts himself open hardway in the corner. Blood now pouring out of Goldberg’s forehead (still roughly 1/3rd what we saw from Dustin in Las Vegas). Old School ropewalk, chokeslam, and UT calls for the Tombstone. What we get is an inch or two away from disaster, but it lands and Goldberg kicks out. Double clothesline and hey, ya know, this ain’t going so bad. And of course, on cue, Goldberg delivers a terrible Jackhammer driver that leaves UT noticeably distressed. He weakly kicks out of the pinfall attempt and we get a botched attempt at either another Jackhammer, or a Tombstone, and then the world’s most shallow chokeslam from UT. 1-2-3 and you’re left just shaking your head and wondering what has become of your life. Or is it just my life? IT’S ALL OF OUR LIVES. UT just sits there and looks like he’s about to break into tears. Approx 8 minutes, * for the sheer spectacle.
This match a total shitshow? GEE WHO WOULDA THUNK IT. We’re lucky no one was legit carted out. My two cents on the post-show drama is pretty simple. I’m not going to blame either man. And as much as I love Matt Riddle, I’m not going to jump on the Bro Train and pin this one on Goldberg. This match was an accident waiting to happen, and the result was (apparently) a concussion and a several near-misses that we should be thankful didn’t wind up tragic. 52 and 54 year old banged up part-timers in 100 DEGREE HEAT. Yeah, I’m putting this one squarely on WWE creative. And before anyone accuses the fanbase of bringing this on, ABSOLUTELY NO ONE ASKED FOR THIS MATCH IN 2019. They were barely asking for it at any point between 1998 and 2003.
It’s a good thing this show took place far, far away in front of a crowd hungry for any entertainment whatsoever. Because I don’t know how much longer they’re going to be able to keep putting this product in front of paying audiences at home without further backlash. AEW finally arrives and they respond with what appears to be an acceleration of self-destruction. Absolutely fascinating.
LET THE BOTCHAMANIA FLOW LIKE SPICE. I’m Mordecai Jones and I’m going to take a nap.