One of the reasons that I was kicking myself about CRZ going on hiatus, while I was busy taking him for granted, is that I had come up with one of my typically psychotic master plans. Since I had been working on five IWS recaps more or less simultaneously... ( Because it was so much easier to procrastinate on finishing five recaps than it was to procrastinate on finishing one. ) As always, I am joined in the recap position by the Great and Mighty OZ. You do realize that you came on stage before your cue? ( Like I am going to stay back stage while you are busy feeding me straight lines? Go ahead with this “master plan” of yours. Now that the Big Slow is champion, I need a laugh. ) I am not so sure that Paul Wight is going to be such a disaster as champion. I have faith in the ability of Paul Heyman to wring entertainment out of the big slug. ( Yeah. Yeah. Aren’t you little Miss Sunshine? Get on with it. ) Well, the plan was that I would finally complete all five recaps and turn them in simultaneously, then give CRZ a choice, either run them all at the same time, perhaps with the (W)WWF graphic proclaiming that “Reading is EXCITING!” ( God knows, I am excited. ) The other option was that he could declare an IWS week on slash and run one recap a day. To spread out the goodness as it were. ( I see. And at any point did you discuss this plan with CRZ? ) Oh God No. I was going to present him with a fait accompli and a couple of suggestions, and then let him decide what to do. He would probably just have ignored me, like he usually does when I am busy being weird and neurotic. ( RIGHT. Good strategy on his part. ) So, since I now control the horizontal, and I control the vertical, I have decided that this week will be IWS week on the Llakor Broadcast System! If I can get my act together, there will be five recaps this week: Fringe, Scarred 4 Life, UnFuckingSanctioned, Extreme Dream and Know Your Enemies. That might be a little ambitious, but at the very least I can get the first three of those recaps up this week. ( I’ll believe that when I see it. ) So first up today is my long-lost Fringe recap, which I started during the July 1st Canada Day weekend. Before I get to that though, just a quick comment about last night’s column which at 1001 words is the SHORTEST LLAKOR COLUMN EVER! Yeah, Me! Plus, since the idea for the article only occurred to me while watching Survivor Series at the Paramount theatre in downtown Montreal, so that was one of the quickest columns to go from an idea to a finished piece that I have ever written. WOO+HOO! ( Yeah. GREAT. Does this broadcast go to any women? ) Well, no one that claims to be a woman, in any case, although I haven’t met all of my readers personally. I suppose that some of my male readers from Britain might really be female readers from New Zealand. ( That is small comfort to me, believe me. That was exactly the column that is likely to drag the psychotic nut-bars out of the woodwork. If these things actually had any kind of REAL distribution, we would be beating off flakes with low self-esteem issues with a cricket bat. AND, AND you fickle bastard, what are you doing pledging your heart to Victoria? You KNOW that our heart belongs to only one female wrestler. ) Leave ME out of YOUR twisted fantasies, okay. ( I can’t. We share one heart. ) Well, in this case, it only pumps blood. When it comes to what attracts us to women, you and me are NOTHING alike. ( RIGHT. And I am the one with the delusions!?! ) Fine. I am about to start the recap. Okay? Get yourself backstage! ( I’m going, I’m going. )
Well, with that out of the way, allow me to get this IWS at the Fringe recap going with those two words that signal the start of IWS week here at the Llakor Broadcast Week. The two words that precede the start of all my recaps...
I am writing to you from my parents’ house in the Laurentians, or as my niece Meaghan and my nephew Ryan refer to it: Camp Quebec. This is a big weekend for us, marking the first visit to Camp Quebec of my new niece Devon, who was born two days after WrestleMania X-8. This weekend also marks my Nan’s 92nd birthday, and my not 92nd birthday. In addition, this is the Canada Day weekend, in the town that proudly boasts that it holds the biggest Canada Day celebration in the Laurentians. Of course, this boast is only possible, because all the other Laurentian municipalities celebrate le Fete de Saint-Jean the weekend before instead. Visiting Camp Quebec, in addition to my sister, her boyfriend and their three kids, are my Aunt Janice, her daughter, my cousin, Erin, and Erin’s son Kieran.
On Saturday, we took the kids to the town fair to feed the animals in the petting zoo, eat a Montfort sausage from the BBQ tent, take a spin on the hay ride, and get their faces painted in the face-painting tent. My sister used her special line-cutting technique for the face-painting tent, pretending to be a volunteer, painting her kids’ faces, and a few other kids to be fair about it, until Devon conveniently called her away.
Later, I got roped into participating in the annual Canada Day Wheel Barrow race. I have usually been able to avoid being involved, in what can be more accurately called a drunken fracas than a race. My cousin Erin was adamant that she had to participate, however, so I found myself at the start line beside my sister and her boyfriend, ready to push Erin through all the various obstacles. Oddly, my wrestling knowledge came in handy, as rather than actually drinking all the Molson Dry at every obstacle, I instead Austined it down my chin. My sister is much better at Austining beer than I am, as I finished the race slightly tipsy and smelling like a brewery, while she finished the race without drinking any of the beer, and barely getting any of it on her. Apparently, the trick is blowing out of your mouth as you tip the beer down your chin. My original plan was to take my time, drink all the beer, and finish in dead last, but the moment the race started, and we started wheeling the barrows backwards down the main street, my competitive juices kicked in. In any case, Molson Dry is so not the beer that I want to be drinking on a Canada Day weekend. It’s nice that Molson is helping to sponsor the Canada Day celebrations, but, damn it, Robert Charlesbois lives in Lake Echo, we couldn’t have got Unibroue as a sponsor? Mind you, if they had had Fin du Monde at each obstacle instead of Molson Dry, the competitors would probably have finished the race on their hands and knees. Yes, my name is Llakor, I am a beer-snob, music and wrestling are always my passion, at le Chuckie’s, le Chuckie’s I fell into a swoon, and I met my doom: Molson Dry and Tabasco sauce, even Austined down my chin is still vile, only to be followed by Molson Dry mixed with two raw eggs at the next stop. With all of that to deal with, it is was somewhat of a shock when I actually pulled ahead at the last obstacle, and beat my sister and her boyfriend to the finish line. Both of them having the advantage that not only are they more athletic than I am, but they were switching who got pushed every other obstacle, while I gritted out the entire race pushing Erin the whole way. I may not be the fastest wheelbarrow racer in the village, but I am the fastest in my family! Or at the very least, the one with the most stamina, or the most stubborn, or all three.
Later that night, we went to the fireworks and bonfire. Ryan dragged my parents and I to the fireworks site, running the entire way, while Meaghan and Kieran insisted on being transported to the fireworks by wagon. The fireworks are always a good show, but this year was especially fine, as the endings were all Johnny Ace. They kept teasing the ending and then giving us a little bit more, until they gave a big blow-off, and at the top of the hill a series of huge sparklers went off next to a fiery Canadian flag. We were all dutifully impressed, even more so when it turned out that that was not the end, and we got another even bigger blow-off of fireworks. As we walked home, Ryan perched on my shoulders, he told us, "I’m so sleepy, my head is falling off my neck."
And believe me, I know how he feels, because between the official Canada Day activities, and the unofficial activities like swimming in the Simon River behind my parents’ house or the kids using me as a horsey for repeated Banzai drops on my back, my head is falling off my neck as well. So, I will turn to a smaller IWS show at this time: the IWS at the Montreal Fringe Festival.
For those who are unfamiliar with the concept of Fringe Festivals, think of it as productions that are so far off-Broadway that they aren’t even in New York. The idea is supposed to be that amateurs and wanna-bes and professionals, all can contribute their shows to the festival, doing their own promotion, and succeeding on their own merits. The productions tend to be short one-act plays, usually with a small cast, frequently autobiographical in nature, and usually quite funny. Probably the most famous show to come out of Montreal is “MacHomer “ a condensed version of Shakespeare’s plays as it would be done by the cast of the Simpsons.
This is the second year that the IWS has done an outdoor show at the Fringe, and last year’s event was very nearly the first IWS show that I attended. Sadly, I misread the schedule and believed that the free outdoor wrestling was taking place on Saturday night instead of Friday night. But this close call was merely one of many, as I orbited the world of IWS without entering it, until the fateful night of Born to Bleed.
To begin with, at the beginning of 2001, I was still managing a video store for a major video retail chain who will remain nameless. The location of my store was on Salaberry, a mere hop, skip and a jump from Chomedey, home of the IWS. Immediately after I left that position in March, after a disagreement with my district manager as to which of us was the more incompetent, a new shift supervisor began at the store. He also worked as a referee for one of the many small wrestling indys that are scattered across Montreal. I still think that he has the best look of any referee that I have ever seen, as he had Saturn’s lazy eye, which looks good on a wrestler, but looks brilliant on a referee. While he did not work for IWS, he did plant the idea in my head to check out some of the indy wresting close at hand.
In August, I was working in customer service for a security company in Hampstead, making less than at the video store, but more per hour, when out of the blue, I received an e-mail from someone who had seen my resume on monster.ca. The e-mail invited me in for an interview for a retail chain whose Quebec headquarters are located in Chomedey, a few minutes walk from Le Skratch pool hall that hosts the IWS shows. In fact, on my way to my first interview, I passed directly past the doors of le Skratch, probably overlooking in the process an IWS poster. I was not eager to return to the world of retail, so I made a somewhat ridiculous salary request at the interview. Rather to my surprise, a month later, I found myself getting that salary, as I began my training in Chomedey, passing near Le Skratch on a number of occasions without ever noticing that indy wrestling took place there. So my presence at Born to Bleed had a certain inevitability about it, and my presence at the Fringe this year is by way of making up for a lost opportunity last year.
And with all of that out of the way, I would like to welcome back to the recapping booth, my broadcast partner, Parentheses Lad. ( How many times have I told you not to call me Parentheses Lad? It makes me sound like a member of the Legion of Substitute Fuck-ups. ) Let’s see, counting this time and the time that I woke up January 2nd to find, "Stop Calling me Parentheses Lad" written on the walls of my apartment in six foot letters made completely of Cheetos, that would make twice. ( Don’t make me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry. And I am in a good mood, because tonight we begin to Dream the Extreme Dream as the NINJAZ~ begin the march to IWS tag-team title glory. They are so taking this tournament! ) Dude, they already are the tag-team champions! ( Do you really think that it is a good idea to give away the result of the tournament before we start? Kayfabe, dude, it’s more than just a word, it’s a philosophy. ) We are not doing the Extreme Dream tournament. We are doing the Fringe show. ( WHAT? But in the last recap, you said that we were doing Extreme Dream next. I have it right here, "the show where I learned to stop worrying and love the IWS." Nice swipe by the way. ) Thank you. I changed my mind, besides my notes on Extreme Dream are in Montreal, and we are in the Laurentians. ( It constantly amazes me that you get away with this shit. I keep expecting someone to yank your punk card for pulling the bait and switch. I have no idea why no one has ever written to you to loudly protest the fact that you have never finished your Atlantic Grand Prix series. OR why no one has ever called you for slipping movie and song quotes into your recaps. ) Well, there was the fellow who complained about me building a column around a Tenacious D song. ( Figures, a band by geeks for geeks. Oh, and why was I not included in your last IWS recap? ) You didn’t go to Season’s Beatings! If I remember correctly, your exact words were, “Indigestion, people who hate us, and indy wrestling in the back of beyond for dessert, I think I’ll stay home and shave the neighbour’s cat.” ( Funny, that doesn’t sound like me, although that cat IS bald now... So the Fringe, eh? Bad acting, illiterate scripts, lousy production values, sloppy technique, and people say that the Fringe and wrestling have nothing in common. ) Would you stop that? You keep writing cheques with your mouth that I end up cashing. I don’t want to have to explain that remark to one of the behemoths wandering around. ( Chill, Winston, I wasn’t talking about the IWS, I was directing my remarks to the Fringers. ) I was referring to the Fringers, too! ( Dude, if these limp-wristed actors can beat you up, you deserve to be beaten. ) Screw the male actors, it’s the female actors that terrify me! ( You mean the shaved head body-builders wandering around, all of whom have their own one-womyn show about a dream society where every male above the age of fourteen has had his testicles removed with a cheese grater? You may have a point. ) I am glad that we agree on something. Turning to my notes. ( Before we start with that, I have a small request. ) Yes? ( Next time could we get a more appropriate note-book? ) WHAT is wrong with this note-book? ( It’s got flowers and frilly shit all over it. It’s embarrassing to be seen in public with this thing. It looks like it should smell of potpourri. ) It was cheap. ( *SIGH* Cheap Bastich. Could we try to find a cheap note-book with barbed wire on it instead of flowers next time? Oh and have we lifted the boycott on swearing? ) The Fringe is not really a full-fledged IWS show, so don’t expect massive amounts of blood, nudity or swearing, but , no, I don’t have the Super-Soaker loaded up with Ivory today. Gum? ( That is fucking great news. I swear everything STILL tastes of soap. Take this gum for instance, it tastes exactly like soap, when it is obviously purple chicklets so it should taste like... Wait a god damn minute! PURPLE chicklets! You bastard, you slipped me THRILLS gum! Got to find some water. )
On Friday, June 14th, I made my way to the corner of Rachel & St-Laurent, for the IWS show that was announced to begin at seven p.m. I arrived at 6:25, spotting Steve Royds, Arsenal, Beef Wellington, Peanut and Zero warming up, or goofing off in the ring. PCP, Crazy Fucking Manny, almost unrecognizable in glasses, was sitting at the timekeeper’s table. A number of people that I did not recognize were milling about on the sidewalk near the ring. The ring was in St-Laurent Street, flush against the sidewalk on the East of the street. This put the ring adjacent to the Parc des Ameriques, where the beer tents for the Fringe Festival were set up. On the sidewalk, a few feet from the ring was parked a van with IWS painted on the side. The timekeeper’s table was just in front and to the left of this van. On the West of the street was a Mini dealership and a café, whose customers were watching the proceedings with an air of bemusement. A series of ring barriers ran down the West of the street beside the sidewalk, meeting another series of ring barriers running alongside Rachel Street. Two sturdy picnic tables were set up near Rachel Street, and I took a position on the one closest to the ring, figuring that standing on this table would give me a good vantage point for the action in the ring. At 6:26, the Bride of Lemmy made his appearance. At 6:28, a guy in a CZW T-shirt with a blue suitcase and the makings of a kendo stick showed up, followed by the Sexxx Exxxpress, Sexxxy Eddy who was wearing sandals, and a Hawaiian outfit along with a BIGGGG pony tail. I noticed for what I think is the first time a tattoo on Eddy’s leg. It is either new or I am completely blind since Eddy usually wrestles practically in the nude. At 6:29, Heavy Maxx Fury arrived, cell phone glued to his ear. I hear that that can cause cancer. Mind you, the way Maxx wrestles, he might as well risk the cancer. In fact the way that Maxx wrestles, he might as well smoke a pack of cigarettes while eating undercooked British Beef and swimming in shark-infested waters with an open wound. At 6:30, Manny talks to a beached land-whale who appears to be a Fringe staff member. Manny keeps gesturing to the location of the ring, as though he is unhappy about the location. Perhaps because, if it was about ten feet further North, the ring would be right underneath one of the ubiquitous Montreal tourist signs, which being these eight feet tall solid triangles, would be perfect for a NINJA~ death stunt. At 6:42, the Bride of Lemmy climbs to the top of the IWS van with a camera. At 6:45, the Bride of Lemmy and a tall, head-shaved freak begin setting up ring barriers circling around the ring. Manny and the guy in the CZW T-shirt jump in to help, but eventually they wander away leaving CZW shirt and Bride of Lemmy to struggle with the ring barriers. The Bride of Lemmy sucks at setting up ring barriers by the way. One in particular refused to connect properly and for about ten minutes he did everything but get down on his hands and knees and pray for the ring barriers to hook up properly. At this point, some fans of IWS and FLQ showed up and I found out that the young goof in the ring with the green cap was Stevie McFly aka Ram Hardy, an FLQ wrestler and IWS columnist, but not yet an IWS wrestler. At 6:55, the Tall Bald Freak, who, come to think about it, looked like Commissioner Joe Fitzmorris’ scruffy twin brother, came to the ring with a title belt and a table. He left and came right back with another table and another freaky-looking bald guy, this one shorter, older and with a goatee. Ram Hardy folded up that table and slid it under the ring. By this point, the last of 12 ring barriers had been put up surrounding the ring, starting on one side by the van, and ending on the other side by the timekeeper’s table. A Fringe Staff member came by and started shilling for something called, “Play For a Day” that was starting on the other side of the beer tents, and I am sure that Manny was THRILLED that the Fringe was trying to steal away his crowd. At 7:05, someone carried in a 2 by 4 covered in barb wire. So much for taking it easy on the rubes. Someone is screwing around with the camera on the van, as a cameraman from TQS wanders around the crowd. We have a Standing Room Only Crowd, although mind you that’s because there are no chairs. Manny is smoking at the table, while a kid in Kiss make-up wanders around by the IWS van. At 7:10, the Red Army shows up fashionably late. I Supply bitches about not being included in my Tournament of the Icons articles. Meanwhile, someone is setting up spotlights while a freaky Green Lady, who looks like she escaped from Captain Kirk’s subconscious, wanders around the crowd. Stevie McFly is busy passing out flyers for Scarred For Life, which are these little white photocopied things. I can understand that you might not want to go as far as the full colour brochures that were handed out prior to Born to Bleed, but you do need promotional material that will stand out a little, especially when everyone and their brother are busy handing out flyers to their one person fringe show about life, death, clowns and pudding. I am beginning to wonder if the girl on top of the van is Camera Girl, because, if so, she appears to have ditched her sloppy Princess Leia hair do, for something much neater and she is having an excellent hair day. Meanwhile, I am having a dilemma as to where to watch the matches. I had staked out a position on a picnic table that gave a good view of the ring. The problem was that as the crowd gathered around the ring, it became obvious that I wouldn’t be able to see any of the out-of-ring shenanigans. But, if I joined the Red Army on the West side of the ring, I wouldn’t have as good a view of the in-ring activities, and I would probably miss the out-of-ring stuff going on everywhere else. Not to mention that I would probably get jostled as I tried to take notes. The obvious thing to do was to wander down to the barrier, introduce myself to Manny and see if I could convince him to let me take my notes at the timekeepers table, where I could see most of the out-of-ring activities and a have a good view of the ring. So, naturally, like a pussy, I stayed where I was. At 7:25, Ozzy’s “Crazy Train” starts up, as the Bride of Lemmy decides to play classic metal rather than obscure shit-metal. Camera Girl for some reason has the camera pointed away from the ring, but she swings back around in time to catch the big fat ass Fringe Staff Guy who now has a mike, “Tonight we have some Extreme Wrestling for you! There will blood, blood and broken bodies. If you have a weak stoumach, or a weak heart DO NOT WATCH! And now our MC for today, you can see his naked ass in our program book: Sexxxy Eddy!” “Hey! My MOM is in the audience! Tonight, due to an injury two weeks ago, I will not be wrestling tonight. IWS, that stands for a lot of violence and a lot of gore. Are You Guys ready for your first match? We need some more people here. At our next show we will be performing at a bar, Le Skratch in Laval. Do you want to see some hardcore wrestling? Now I would like to introduce our IWS official: PEANUT!” The crowd boos. “I don’t think that they like you. Now, I would like to introduce our first competitor weighing in at 190 pounds, TNT, accompanied by his partner weighing in at a smidgen under a metric ton, Heavy Maxx Fury.” TNT grabs the mike, “Start the show! You have a real budget at this Fringe Festival! What happened to my music? Will you look at all these losers around the ring? YOU! You should be in bed right now! YOU should be home doing your homework. YOU should be in rehab. I can’t swear, so I can’t tell YOU what I really think.” TNT and Maxx are both wearing Red. Maxx has “MAXX” written on his tights just in case we couldn’t tell him and TNT apart. Eddy has retrieved his mike, and shoos TNT and Maxx to a neutral corner, “Back Away. Back Away. 235 pounds of PURE NATURAL MUSCLE, the Natural Superstar, Steve Royds.” Steve is wearing his Gold Robe, which he removes when he hits the ring and hands off to Zero. Steve takes the mike briefly to explain that his music is also unavailable due to technical difficulties. “OK, let’s wrestle!”
Bell rings at 7:40. Where the hell is OZ? Royds and TNT lock-up and TNT is down hard. They lock-up again and TNT is down hard again. But you know what they say, if at first you don’t succeed, QUIT! Well, that was short... but Royds wants more and baseball slides TNT into the IWS van. Heavy Maxx Fury gets in Royds face, giving his partner a chance to sneak into the ring as Royds Irish Whips Maxx into the ring apron and then into the IWS van. Maxx goes down on the grass so Steve drops the leg on him and yanks him up to start laying some chops. Meanwhile TNT is abusing Peanut, “Count You Idiot!” HAH! Dream on, dude, like there is ever going to be a count-out in the IWS. Steve Royds comes back in to the ring and they lock up again which Royds converts to a head lock. TNT breaks, so they run the ropes ending with a shoulder block by Royds that sends TNT flying. As TNT struggles to his feet, Royds kicks him in the gut and then hits the DDT and covers for one and two. TNT struggles to his feet and intercepts a lock-up by nailing Royds with a fore-arm to the throat. A TNT-Plex is followed by a head-lock which quickly turns into a choke. Peanut counts and TNT finally breaks. Royds rolls away and gets to his feet, but TNT intercepts him for another TNT-Plex. Steve manages to knock down TNT and goes up top, but his elbow-drop gets nothing but MAT. TNT quickly climbs on and starts to choke, wait for the count, break, choke again, wait for the quote, break, choke again, and Pete and Re-Pete were sitting on a fence... Eventually TNT drags Royds over to a corner and puts Royds up top, and then paintbrushes him twice. Maxx Fury is in and he tries for a Fury-can-rana, but Steve blocks it and after some struggling turns it into a vertical suplex on Fury. Royds then picks up Fury and slams him into TNT who rallies with a drop kick followed by a low blow that makes most of the Main wince in sympathy. Royds falls into a corner and TNT starts choking Royds with his extended leg. Royds rallies back to his feet only to eat a side-kick from TNT who rolls Royds limp body out of the ring to the West side of the ring where Maxx Fury is waiting with AN...TI... CI... PA... TION. And I immediately lose sight of both men. While Maxx is taking advantage of Royds outside of the ring, TNT is busy distracting Peanut. His attempts to keep Peanut from looking to the West becoming increasingly desperate until TNT decides at a certain point, “Fuck It!” and starts choking Peanut until Maxx rolls Royds back into the ring. TNT tries to Irish Whip Royds into the buckle, but Royds reverses and TNT eats buckle instead. TNT calls for a time-out, but Royds is having none of that, so TNT eats another turn buckle. TNT rolls out of the ring and ends up standing next to Maxx Fury, and they do a sort of comedy bit where they look at each other and mime, “If you’re here and I’m here... WHERE’S ROYDS?” only to turn and eat a double baseball slide. Maxx goes down in a heap and Royds drags TNT back in so that he can KICK the shit out of him. TNT eats a Clothesline and then in a cool little bit, Royds gives TNT just enough time to get to his feet so that he can kick him to the outside. TNT and Maxx regroup on the outside, with TNT rolling back in to offer his hand. Sure like anyone EVER falls for... STEVE? Don’t shake his hand STEVE! He’s going to RAKE the EYES STEVE! Too late. Steve, blinded, blunders into a drop toe hold, and TNT is stomping a mud hole and walking it dry. TNT drops a leg and then an elbow as Maxx climbs into the ring and goes up top for a SWEET swan-dive head butt. TNT splits Royds legs and does the Jeff Hardy Leg Drop. Then TNT pulls this SWANKY leg submission hold out of his golf bag that forces Royds onto his back for One... and Two... but Royds rolls a shoulder up, grimaces in pain, falls back down for ONE... and TWO... but Royds rolls right out, and TNT in frustration starts to really lay a beating on Royds. Peanut tries to intervene, but Maxx Fury clocks him. Maxx maneuvers Steve into position for TNT’s Flipping Butt Drop from the top. TNT climbs, flips, and gets NOTHING BUT MAT... as Steve rolls out and stands, grabbing Maxx Fury in the process. He throws Maxx up in a Gorilla Press that he turns into a dropping DDT, and they call that move the Anabolic Drop. With Maxx out of the way, Steve Royds turns his attention to TNT body-slamming him on top of his partner, and covering both men. Peanut is woozy and way out of position, but he dives over for ONE... TWO... THREE! Steve Royds wins at 7:50 (10:00?) After the bell, Steve Royds punishes Heavy Maxx Fury some more with a pile driver face plant combination. At this point, I notice that during the match, Steve lost his weight belt. Presumably, he used it on Maxx on the outside, when I lost sight of him and Maxx. And now, it's time, once again, for the part of the recap where I, Llakor, give career advice to the Natural Superstar, Big Steve Royds aka Steve Risez aka the wrestler who writes to me. Because, and I'm quoting Steve here, "I find you to be know the finer points of the business... I like the way u understand psychology and stuff" Using the weight belt should be a signature move of yours. Don’t waste it on the outside when only half the fans can see it. It is the kind of move where you WANT people to see it coming so that they can anticipate the blow. Drag your opponent into the ring. Warm up on a turn buckle or some other inanimate object. Wait as your opponent struggles to his feet, and at the critical moment, just as he is starting to get rid of that wobbling in his legs to stand up straight, and then, and only then... WHIP HIM LIKE A DOG!
In order to get it properly formatted, I had to spit it in half. Part Two of Two follows the Guruzim post.
(edited by Llakor on 20.11.02 2124) "Don't Blame CANADA, Blame Yourselves!"
( I’m back! What did I miss? ) Steve Royds pinned TNT in what was essentially a handicapped match since Maxx Fury kept getting involved. Good match, although not really a part of the IWS continuity, and it was a little odd to see Steve working as a face. I see you picked up some Unibroue, did they have that in the beer tent? ( NO! I had to go to a dep. You know that beer tent is really badly named. You would think that a beer tent would actually be made out of beer or at least beer cans, or at least be a tent filled with nothing but beer, but in this case beer tent seems to mean a tent filled with many things some of which is beer. ) I see. How imprecise of them. I hope that you registered a strong complaint. ( Oh. I did, I did. We aren’t allowed back in the beer tent, by the way, EVER. ) WHAT? How much trouble did you get us into, anyway? ( I’m not sure. How long was I gone? ) Well, let’s see you left when I was writing this column, July 1st, you returned when I was finishing the column November 18th, so more than four months. ( FOUR MONTHS!?! MAUDITE! This is some MOTHER-FUCKING WICKED AWESOME BEER, man. ) Apparently. I am surprised that you are not drinking Fin Du Monde though. ( Nah. The only beer to drink in Quebec to watch wrestling with is the beer that Farooq endorses personally. DAMN! Beer!) DAMN! Beer! ( Wait a minute! If I’ve been gone for four months, why does my mouth still taste of soap? Well, beer and soap. ) From the perspective of the writer, you have been gone for four months, but from the perspective of the reader you have only been gone for about twenty minutes. It’s a time travel thing. Or to put it another way, the taste of Thrills Gum violates both Newtonian and Einsteinian physics. ( Time travel always gives me such a migraine. What match is next? ) Triple threat match between the Rougeau Trainees, the NINJAZ~ and Red Salvation. ( Oooh! Oooh! Goody! )
Sexxxy Eddy is back out with the mike, “They told me to specify that we are wrestling with NO turn buckles today. No turn buckles, now that’s hardcore.” OUCH! So all those mentions of TNT colliding with turn buckle in the last match, substitute the words ring post. “This is a Triple Tag Team match up. Here’s the ref. Are you going to be able to do the second match? From Montreal’s only high class city, Westmount, at a combined weight of 370 pounds, Beef Wellington and Kamikaze Kid, together they are High Five! Right On!” I guess the Rougeau trainees have changed their names. They also have new T-shirts which are nice, but nowhere near as cool as the real Rougeau T-Shirts that they used to wear. The Red Army starts a “You Suck Dick” chant bringing Beef over to vehemently deny it, “We don’t do that anymore!” “At a combined weight of 485 pounds, they are from Parts Unknown, F.O.D. and Iceberg.” They are waving a Soviet flag which gets caught on a fence on their way into the ring. They are still showing allegiance to the Red Army with their red camouflage and their snappy red berets, which even I have to admit are rather stylish. From the North End of the ring a “Red Army Sucks” chant springs up. I was wondering where the Two Mountain Mob was. “The third team for this triple threat match from Fabertown, Japan, weighing in at a combined weight of 666 pounds, your favourites, the IWS tag-team champions, the HARDCORE NINJAZ~!!” The NINJAZ~ come to the ring with the belts and with chairs. They immediately start something by kicking the Soviet flag, but the active hostilities are put on hold JUST long enough for Sexxxy Eddy to blurt, “This match is for the IWS World Tag Team Championship,” and bolt out of the ring. Smartly, the NINJAZ~ key on FOD while Hi-5 tackles Iceberg. Both big men push off their attackers, but both the NINJAZ~ and Hi-5 are persistent, and they both grapple their respective foes and attempt to double team suplex the big men, which is blocked, and both teams try for the double-team suplex again, blocked again, and in a display of rather impressive power, Iceberg suplexes Hi-5 while FOD suplexes the NINJAZ~... in stereo even. Then FOD gets set, and waits for Iceberg to feed him choke slam victims. Kamikake Kid! Beef Wellington! Yellow NINJA~! Hardcore NINJA~#1! Hi-5 struggles back to their feet and receive a stereo body slam. The NINJAZ~ struggle to their feet and receive a stereo Alabama Face Jam. There is CARNAGE and broken bodies everywhere. FOD grabs the Yellow NINJA~ and holds on to him while Iceberg goes up top, but Beef Wellington comes out of nowhere for the save, and Iceberg takes out FOD. ( I never thought I would say this, but GO BEEF! That boy is surprisingly fast.) Iceberg does a CURLY DANCE of contrition and you can practically here the wheels grind as he says to himself, “Moe is going to KILL me!” Kamikaze Kid takes him out from behind, and he’s so NASTY! Speaking of NASTY, Beef damn near takes FOD’s head off with a clothesline. ( GO BEEF! He’s surprisingly strong, too. ) Beef takes advantage of the dazed Yellow NINJA~ to plant him with a DDT. ( All that good will he built up with me. *FLUSH* Just whooshing down the drain. He’s surprisingly sneaky, as well, I guess. ) Beef is yelling at FOD to “Go UP! Go UP!” Beef gets out a table and drags the NINJAZ~ onto the table and then yells at FOD, “You jump on them. Jump on them.” Iceberg had been pounding on Kamikaze Kid, but at the sounds of impending carnage, he leaves him in the corner, and wanders over to assist by picking up Beef and feeding him to FOD so that FOD can Bubba Bomb Beef through the NINJAZ~ and through the table, which draws a vigourous and well deserved HOLY SHIT chant. FOD and Iceberg are lords of all they survey, only Beef, a little ticked that his own plan was used against him has found hisself a chair, and he decks FOD with it. Iceberg is about to object, but Kamikaze Kid intercepts with his own chair and Hi-5 imparts a quick physics lesson on the two big men. They throw the chairs away, as the Yellow NINJA~ drags a table in, but it collapses too quickly, so Hi-5 retrieve their chairs and switch targets so that Beef is denting Iceberg’s skull, and Kamikaze Kid is flattening FOD’s. ( “The Earth is round, like your head! No! The Earth is flat, like your head!”) The Old and Busted table is out and the NU HOTNESS table is in. Yellow NINJA~ drops an elbow on Iceberg, while Hardcore NINJA~#1 drops an elbow on FOD. Iceberg gets thrown on the table. FOD gets thrown on the table. Hardcore NINJA~#1 climbs to the North-East corner! Yellow NINJA~ climbs to the South-West corner! Beef Wellington climbs to the South-East corner! Kamikaze Kid climbs to the North -West corner! AND YOU WILL BELIEVE THAT NINJAZ~ ,and two guys from Westmount, CAN FLY! It is a FOUR-WAY FLYING FOOT-STOMP and the table disintegrates. All Four Men cover FOD and Iceberg for the pin! At 8:00 (7:00?) ( Huh? Who won? ) Iceberg and FOD have been eliminated! ( OH! It’s an elimination triple threat match. Never mind. ) Beef grabs the Yellow NINJA~, while Kamikaze Kid grabs hardcore NINJA~#1, and the two men from Westmount simultaneously execute swinging DDT’s on the NINJAZ~. Beef and Kid grab Hardcore NINJA~#1 for a double-team wheelbarrow pick-up which is countered by Yellow NINJA~ kickery. The NINJAZ~ double-team Kamikaze Kid with kicks to the back of the knee and the back of the back. Beef Wellington has gone in search of a ladder, but as he maneuvers it in, the NINJAZ~ take advantage of its flippy abilities to send Beef flying and the Yellow NINJA~ takes Beef to the outside. Hardcore NINJA~#1 sets up the ladder in the corner. He tries to Irish Whip Kamikaze Kid into the ladder but the Kid counters with IRONY, and rolls up the Hardcore NINJA~#1 as he bounces off the ladder for one and two and no. Kid stomps hisself a NINJA~ mud hole and walks it dry. Yellow NINJA~ comes in from the outside to save his partner, but Kamikaze Kid intercepts and now he is stomping hisself a Yellow NINJA~ mud hole and walking it dry. The Kid suplexes the Yellow NINJA~ over, WITH A BRIDGE! but Hardcore NINJA~#1 saves with a NINJA~kick. Beef is back in now and he charges the NINJAZ~, but he gets double-team Back Body Dropped onto the ladder! OUCH! Kamikaze Kid charges back in and he picks up Hardcore NINJA~#1 and drops him on the ladder, and the Kid picks the Hardcore NINJA~#1 up again and power bombs onto the ladder, which earns him an old school twitch sell. Kid and Beef combine to Irish-Whip the Yellow NINJA~ into the ladder, and then Beef scoops up the remains and Pile Drives the Yellow NINJA~ who folds in half like an accordion. BUT BEEF DOESN’T COVER!! ( Mistake. HUGE, ghastly mistake. ) Both Kid and Beef combine to give Hardcore NINJA~#1 a wheelbarrow suplex thingy. This time they cover for One and Two and No! Beef and Kid divide to conquer with Beef taking Hardcore NINJA~#1 and Kid taking the Yellow NINJA~. They try to create a meeting of the minds, but the NINJAZ~ counter with NINJA~kickery, Hardcore NINJA~#1 going low and Yellow NINJA~ going high. Yellow NINJA~ DDTs Kamikaze Kid, while Hardcore NINJA~#1 goes all fancy with a Vertical Suplex into a Death Valley Driver on Beef. ( Right, because a normal Suplex wouldn’t have been enough to keep Beef down. He is surprisingly resilient. ) The NINJAZ~ roll the Westmounters into the centre of the ring and place the ladder on top. They both go up top with chairs and combine for a stereo chair assisted leg drop. Peanut counts with both hands, ONE and TWO and THREE! for the win at 8:06 (6:00?) combined match (13:00?) While the NINJAZ~ show off the belt, Peanut is busy trying to revive Hi-5.
Perfectly acceptable for free wrestling and it does a nice job of starting the transition from a NINJA~ vs. Red Salvation feud to a NINJA~ vs. Hi-5 feud. ( Perfectly acceptable? Those guys were killing themselves for us out there! You have to admire wrestlers who are willing to die for your enjoyment. ) True enough. I hadn’t realized before I started typing up these notes how involved Beef Wellington was in that match. I think that he could be a real thorn in the side of the NINJAZ~.
While we were catching our breath, and I was busy explaining to curious tourists why I was standing on a picnic table taking notes, Techno Geek was on the apron filming the crowd. I took the opportunity to take a quick count of the crowd. Getting an accurate crowd count for the entire event was tricky because people would drift in, watch a little bit and then move on. Some watched only a few minutes, some watched one entire match, and some stayed for the entire event. As a general rule, during each match the crowd built until the finish. At the end of each match the crowd would thin out again, and then start building back up as the new match started. A controversy about the crowd broke out on the IWS chat board soon after the event, with the Fringe organizers saying that more than a thousand people saw the event, and the Red Army General saying that there couldn’t have been more than a hundred. Like most silly arguments, it was a problem of definitions. The Fringe organizers were counting the entire crowd that watched ANY part of the event, while the Red Army General was counting the crowd that watched the ENTIRE event. In any case, when I did my “snapshot” crowd count there was a row of about twenty people five deep on the North or Two Mountains side, a row of about ten people eight deep on the West or Red Army side, and a row of about twenty people six deep on the South or my side for a combined count of about three hundred people.
Eddy came back out with the mike, and by this time was visibly losing his voice. ( I guess he doesn’t do much dialogue during his day job, huh? ) “Let me say once again, we are the Internet Wrestling Syndicate and you can find us at syndicatewrestling.com. You guys during the match: We encourage you to yell. But there are kids around here, so keep your pants on. Our next event is called Scarred For Life, and will be at Le Skratch pool bar in Chomedey, Laval. I am not cleared by the doctor to wrestle, I know that you are all upset about that, but I will be there. We have one big match left. These fans are getting a little rowdy. Drink more beer, Drink more beer.” ( Don’t have to tell me twice. DAMN! This is good beer. ) “Are you ready for some unholy violence? And this is for the belt! Before I introduce the challenger for the title, let me just say that there has been way too much uncontrolled violence in this match. So to keep control of this match, we have a special guest referee, the first lady of hardcore, Precious Lucy!” Styling and profiling in a black leather halter top and black leather pants both with blood red referee stripes, accessorized with red wrist bracers. ( Be still my beating heart! ) I don’t think that’s your heart. ( You have all the romance in your soul of a Quaker rice cake, you know that? We do need to discuss something about Lucy. I have come to believe after watching her that she is the female equivalent of Ric Flair. She styles, she profiles, she has an impeccable fashion sense, she can play face or heel with equal skill, she blades like Ric Flair, and she throws low blows like Ric Flair. In fact, she may throw low blows better than Ric Flair because she can throw them any time and from any position. ) Have you gone STARK RAVING MAD? She’s good, I’ll even go so far as to say she has been excellent, but Ric Flair good? Let’s see her wring a five star match out of a broomstick or cinch in a proper figure four, and I’ll think about the comparison, until then, seek therapy, please. “The challenger, the ICW Hardcore champion, the Montreal Death-match champion, accompanied by his manager, the Motivator of Madness... I give you the One Man War, ARSENAL!” Stevie McFly is at ringside and makes the mistake of getting too near Arsenal. so Skeletor attacks Stevie for distracting his client, Arsenal. Meanwhile, Arsenal goes over to talk some smack with Red Army, but before he can say anything the Red Army starts to chant, “WE SUCK!” and Arsenal has to turn back to the centre of the ring to stop from busting a gut laughing. ( Perfect dynamic between a heel and his fans right there. He tells them that they suck, and because he is their leader and hero, they accept it, and are even enthusiastic about it. ) “Are you ready for his opponent? The winner of the first ever North American Explosion Death Match, from the Ancient Green Hills of Two Mountains, the IWS Heavyweight Champion, GREEN PHANTOM!” One of the Red Army bounces something off of the Green Phantom’s head, and he glares at them before flipping the belt to the Two Mountains Mob who start a “We’ve Got the Belt!” chant to piss off the Red Army.
Arsenal takes advantage of Green Phantom’s distraction to work in his... well, arsenal of kicks. The Phantom tries to rally with two huge clotheslines, but Arsenal’s not quick, he’s sudden and Phantom whiffs on both, Arsenal landing a HUUUGGE low blow after the second miss. Arsenal runs the rope to land a jumping clothesline and Phantom wobbles, but Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down! Arsenal goes up top to try from a height, but he gets caught on the way down and Phantom Bombed. Arsenal staggers back to his feet and Phantom tries to kick his head off, but Arsenal catches the leg and Suplexes the Phantom over. Arsenal lands a wicked neck breaker for one and two and no! Lucy demonstrates that she doesn’t understand the first thing about being a guest referee by being in the right place to count and counting at exactly the proper speed. Arsenal starts choking the Phantom, but breaks after the count by Lucy. He goes back to the well to choke some more, but gets flipped off by Green Phantom, and then eats a MONSTROUS Phantom SPEAR. Phantom goes up top and drops the leg for one and two and no, Lucy once again perfectly placed to count and delivering a smooth count at exactly the right speed. Phantom decides to go for the kill and murders Arsenal with an under hook Pile Driver. Lucy dives for the count, and Skeletor enters to protest all this good officiating. Green Phantom abandons the pin to chase off Skeletor to the outside, and while he is out there retrieves the two by four wrapped in barb wire. ( Are you sure it’s not a bat wrapped in barb wire? ) I don’t know. Do you want to go ask him? ( No that’s all right. Someone would probably steal my spot while I was gone. ) Whatever it is, Arsenal has it and the Green Phantom is in trouble as Arsenal uses it to set up a barb wire Russian Leg Sweep. Phantom instinctively rolls on his stoumach to prevent the pin and Arsenal starts clobbering him on the back. Arsenal goes up top to really wallop Green Phantom’s back with the barb wire device. Phantom writhes in pain giving Arsenal the opportunity to choke him with barb wire, but Lucy is right in his face to tell him that he can only do that four seconds at a time. Arsenal doesn’t like that very much and he tells that to Lucy in no uncertain terms, as well he should. ( What the hell is the problem with you and Arsenal. Lucy is doing a perfect job reffing this match. She is calling it right down the middle. ) EXACTLY. Taking advantage of Arsenal’s distraction, Green Phantom is back up and he LEVELS Arsenal with a kick to the face. Picking Arsenal back up, Phantom nonchalantly drops the One Man War on his head. Skeletor meanwhile is desperately trying to light his kendo stick on fire, sensing that in Green Phantom’s present mood a regular kendo stick might not be enough, but he can’t get it lit. Phantom and Arsenal spill to the outside right in front of Skeletor, who is so frustrated at his inability to duplicate the achievements of his caveman ancestors and make fire, that he breaks the kendo sticks in frustration on the nearest hard object, in this case, Green Phantom’s head. Phantom is a little dazed, so Skeletor takes advantage to rough him up a bit. Arsenal tries to steal a move from Edge’s offensive repertoire and DDT Green Phantom on the edge of the ring apron, but Phantom blocks it and runs him off the apron in a choke slam Phantom Bomb onto something that I can’t see but it sounds painful. The Holy Shit chant appears to confirm that it looked as good as it sounded. Arsenal drags himself out of the wreckage into the ring, and uses the ropes to propel himself onto the Green Phantom with a leg drop into what sounded like a bunch of chairs. Precious Lucy is outside trying to convince everyone to get back in the ring where I can actually see things. Arsenal goes back in. Precious Lucy goes back in. Skeletor rolls Green Phantom back in. ( You see what a great job she’s doing! ) Arsenal body slams Green Phantom, and then climbs up top where he exposes his bare elbow so that he can drop the Randy Savage Flying Elbow which gets One and Two and No! Arsenal struts and readjusts his elbow pad while Skeletor feeds some chairs into the ring. Arsenal gets ready to suplex Green Phantom onto the chairs, but the Phantom blocks and he muscles Arsenal over into a Death Valley Driver. The Arrogant Cover gets One and Two and No. Skeletor runs in, but this time Green Phantom was ready for him and both Arsenal and Skeletor end up on opposite Green Phantom shoulders for stereo Phantom Bombs, but the Green Phantom DOES NOT COVER! ( Ooooh! New champion coming up! I can feel it! We are entering the age of TOTAL WAR! The ERA of the ARSENAL! ) Green Phantom rolls Skeletor on top of Arsenal, and goes up top. A top rope splash on wrestler and manager gets ONE and TWO and NO! Phantom grabs a chair and uses it to drop a Vicious Leg on Arsenal for ONE and TWO and JOHNNY ACE! The Green Phantom sets up the chair in front of Arsenal, runs up to the chair, jumps off it and drops the leg for ONE AND TWO AND THR- JOHNNY BY GOD ACE! What will it take to keep the Arsenal’s shoulder down? ( I’m thinking that it will have to involve NU-KLAR weapons. ) Green Phantom continues to escalate the violence by getting a table, but this table, like the table in the earlier tag-title match is defective. While Green Phantom is trying to get the table to stand, Arsenal uses the chair to drag himself to his feet, folds the chair up, and uses it for a chair-assisted SPEAR! SPEAR! SPEAR! Phantom goes down in a heap and Arsenal viciously hits him with the tip of the chair leg. Arsenal cockily takes his time to cover, Precious Lucy as she has been throughout this match is perfectly positioned to make the count so when Arsenal covers she steadily counts ONE! and TWO! and NO! Arsenal is not happy and he shoves Precious Lucy. He picks her up over his shoulders for a nasty neck breaker thingy, and follows up with a suplex into the busted table head-first. ( I cry REF ABUSE! ) Serves her right for doing her job properly. Doesn’t she understand wrestling history and traditions? Guest Referees are supposed to SUCK! ( We have to have a loooong talk about your values, young man. ) Sadly, all this completely justified violence on Lucy has given the Green Phantom time to recover, and he destroys Arsenal with a choke slam that gets a solid 8.5 on the Sick-o-Meter. Arsenal struggles to his knees, Green Phantom is back for the field goal, looks good, THREE POINTS! Arsenal is dead, but so is Precious Lucy so how will Green Phantom win? ( Why does no one ever use the unconscious referee precedent that Stone Cold Steve Austin set and count the three count with the referees limp hand? ) Green Phantom face plants Arsenal into the chair and table, and then realizes his unconscious referee problem. he goes to tend to Lucy while Arsenal rolls out of the ring. Skeletor, the Motivator of Madness gets busy a motivating on Arsenal, while the Green Phantom sets up a new table in the ring. Green Phantom has a chair and he threatens Skeletor with it, as he prefers his Arsenal dazed and despondent. Precious Lucy is starting to stir, as Arsenal sneaks into the ring taking advantage of Green Phantom’s focus on Skeletor. Green Phantom spots Arsenal in the ring and throws the chair at him. Arsenal takes it hard, and Green Phantom is able to retrieve the chair and bat Arsenal with it. Green Phantom drags Arsenal up top, near the table, but before he can drive Arsenal through it, a sudden gust of wind blows the chair over. ( The very elements themselves are saying it. NEW CHAMPION! The very wind is whispering Arsenal’s name. ) Phantom can’t believe that the table just fell over like that, and he pays for his distraction as Arsenal comes alive and plants him with a swinging DDT into the mat from the top rope. Arsenal resets the table. Arsenal is standing on the table and Precious Lucy is up with the chair and she levels Arsenal with the chair ONCE! TWICE! THREE TIMES A LADY! Well, so much for Lucy being objective. ( HEY! Arsenal Suplexed her into a table. Where I come from that’s called reaping what you sow. ) This could derail that Arsenal championship that we both want. ( Do not make me choose between Arsenal and Lucy. It would be like choosing between my heart and my brain. ) Don’t you mean your heart and your hand? Green Phantom is up, he grabs Arsenal and gets on the table for a Phantom’s Edge, and the TABLE TIPS OVER! Both men are down, and OUCH and OUCH and OUCH! ( That was Bowling Shoe Ugly. ) Forget ugly, that’s the kind of move that gets people killed. Green Phantom is up and checking the table. He picks up Arsenal, and props him on the top rope. From the top, it’s an Over the Shoulder Phantom Bomb, and Lucy is there to count ONETWOTHREE! Phantom retains, and Arsenal’s shoulder twitches up off the mat right after the three count is done, although that could be because Phantom was no longer pinning him down. There can be no denying that ARSENAL WAS ROBBED! and Precious Lucy is going to pay, oh yes she will! ( Lucy did a superlative job as ref. If Arsenal is going to blame someone for that loss, he should start by checking in the mirror. )
Peanut is back in to check Arsenal and no doubt to confirm to Arsenal that a real official thinks that that last count was ultra fast. Green Phantom poses. Someone throws him a coke which he opens, takes a sip of and then spins into the crowd. Green Phantom exits with the belt. Arsenal is up clutching his head and he rolls out of the ring and then jaws with the crowd who are calling him a loser. MORONS! He didn’t LOSE NOTHING. I will say it again for the slow readers in the crowd: ARSENAL WAS ROBBED!!
Eddy is back out with the mike, and his voice is cracking like old paint , “That’s just a taste of hardcore. At Scarred for Life being held at Le Skratch Bar in Chomedey, you will see even more. You can also check us out at our web-site at syndicatewrestling.com or come talk to us in the beer tent.”
I had brought some money to throw into the hat at the end of the show, thinking that this would be run like a busker event, but no one passed the hat, as the intent apparently was to comp the entire city to nearly two hours of free wrestling including a main event that nearly went broadway. Colour me impressed.
After the show, the Red Army came over to compare notes. They didn’t enjoy it half as much as I did, as the blown spot near the end had freaked them out. While I am certainly not encouraging that level of neck death, it was obviously an accident and they covered for it really well. Besides it was free wrestling, and for free wrestling it was damn fine. ( Translation: the Red Army are weenies. ) While I was talking to the Red Army, some pretty theatre school wannabes tried to talk us into going to their Fringe show about clowns throughout history. The Red Army General revealed that he has an irrational compulsive fear of clowns. The fringer tried to convince him that it was a different kind of clown than he was used to, more in the Italian tradition, and I helped her out by describing it as comedia dell’ arte, a term that she jumped on eagerly, but then got an odd expression on her face as she realized that a wrestling fan had just correctly named the Italian clown tradition that her show was using. We wandered over to the ring barriers where I spent some time talking to some of the IWS wrestlers. I shook hands with Sexxxy Eddy and introduced myself to him. He said, “Oh yeah, the internet. I’m not so good at that. The boys are supposed to show me that stuff some time next week, “ as he got this panicked look in his face like “Internet Geek, quick where is the nearest exit? Oh yeah, I am outdoors, just keep eye contact, smile, nod and back away slowly.” After Eddy, I spoke to TNT and shook his hand, and we had a friendly argument about his technical wrestler gimmick, which I have criticized quite harshly. He told me that he was the most technically proficient wrestler in Quebec and that he had spent time wrestling for Les Thatcher at HWA. I thanked the gods that he wasn’t challenging me to wrestle him, and told him that I wasn’t trying to attack his skills, just that his character hadn’t demonstrated that technical proficiency in the ring. We talked about wrestlers who were able to use that gimmick well, and I suggested that he watch the Malenko/Benoit match from Road Wild, which despite a lousy crowd, showed exactly how you could get yourself over as a technical wrestler. We also straightened out the question that I had had at Tournament of the Icons over his and Zero’s weight, as TNT does weigh 190 pounds, and Zero does weigh 195 pounds. I made the comment that TNT projects larger in the ring, which he certainly wasn’t upset to hear. He also told me that he had e-mailed me after my Tournament of the Icons recap went up, although I had not seen the e-mail prior to the Fringe show. ( As it turned out, Hotmail thought it was junk mail, and we had to rush to tell Hotmail, “This is not SPAM. PLZ BLV IT.” The only issue that I really have with our discussion with TNT is his assertion that only his partner Heavy Maxx Fury is good enough to hang with him, because everything that I have seen of Maxx has made me think that he is almost criminally sloppy in the ring. ) Well, loyalty to one’s tag partner is not a bad thing. I have more of an issue with TNT’s refusal to “embarrass” anyone in the ring. The key to a technical heel is his willingness to show other people up. After TNT, I shook hands with Arsenal and Disgruntled FN Fan from the IWS web-site. The Red Army and I were concerned about Arsenal’s condition, and while he certainly wasn’t happy about the awkward bump, he wasn’t going to cry a river over it either, and the Red Army obsessing about it seemed to just piss him off. We talked briefly about putting my recaps on the IWS web-site, to which I basically said, you want them, they are yours, just send me an e-mail with details. ( That was in June, it’s November and they are still not up, I would like to point out. ) Yes, well, maybe Manny or Arsenal will post this one. I wanted to shake Manny’s hand as part of my attempts to fulfill the tradition that it is the responsibility of the new guy in the locker room to introduce himself to everyone else. I have always felt that it was odd for that to include wrestling writers, but as Lou Thesz explained it to Stu Saks once, the tradition is about showing respect to those higher up on the wrestling food chain, and since the writers are always going to be on the bottom of the pyramid, they ALWAYS have to introduce themselves. Unfortunately, Manny was on the other side of the barrier, looking increasingly pissed at Arsenal and Disgruntled FN Fan for talking instead of helping to dismantle the ring, so I decided it probably wasn’t prudent to trespass the barrier and interrupt his work just to introduce myself.
Which brings us to the end of another IWS recap and those words that I use to end all of my recaps, as... I Remain, Yours Truly,
Llakor, that Lousy Canuck Former [slash] Contributour
(edited by Llakor on 20.11.02 2127) "Don't Blame CANADA, Blame Yourselves!"
WWE SUNDAY NIGHT HEAT WORKRATE REPORT – 1/11/04 (by PHIL RIPPA) I had hoped to get this out before the Raw report showed up but I be lazy. It’s a weird show in that one match took up an ENORMOUS amount of time.