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Rest In Peace, Macho Man (Randy Savage, 1952-2011)

By MDJ Superstar
May 24, 2011 //
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Over the late 1980s and early 1990s, during the legendary on-and-off love-hate relationship between “The Immortal” Hulk Hogan or the “Macho Man” Randy Savage, you were either a Hulkamaniac or a fan of the Macho Madness.

It was a mutually exclusive thing. There was practically no overlap between the fan bases of either WWE Superstar.

Either you bought into the wholesome “train, say your prayers, eat your vitamins” Real American persona of the Hulkster, or you were a devotee of the diametrically-opposed measured intensity and madness of the Macho Man. It was the Atomic Legdrop versus the Big Elbow, “Watcha gonna do when Hulkamania runs wild on you?” versus “Oh yeeeeahhh!!! Dig it!!!”

I hated Hulk Hogan. He was the predictable, too-white-bread-to-be-real, ultimate boy scout – the golden boy who never could seem to lose.

The Macho Man was just infinitesimally so much cooler, with his awesomer-than-awesome shades, crazy bushwhackin’ beard, sequined robes, and over-the-top flamboyant persona. When the Mega-Powers exploded in 1989, I was heartbroken that Hulk Hogan ended the year-long World Championship reign of Randy Savage.

Randy Savage never came out on top. He always came up with the short end of the stick when he faced down the invincible Hulk Hogan. It was frustrating to see Randy Savage claw and chop and axhandle his way to near-victory each time, only to have Hogan do his trademark “Hulk up” after absorbing the Macho Man’s patented Big Elbow, hit the Big Boot, drop the leg, and cover him for the 1-2-3.

He was the ultimate loser, always one step from snapping, never able to overcome the one big barrier of the Hulkster, never able to truly step out of his shadow. He was always the flawed anti-hero, doomed to fall, but never relenting in his emotion or intensity.

That, I think, is why I loved him so much, and why it was so gratifying to watch him lose his retirement match against the Ultimate Warrior at WrestleMania VII, but win ultimate redemption in what I think remains to be wrestling’s single greatest soap opera moment – his emotional reunion with his one true love, Miss Elizabeth, as he finally rode off into the sunset with the one thing that mattered most to him.

I genuinely cried when I watched this moment the first time, and I still get all damp twenty years later.

The Macho Man was one of a kind – the most flamboyant, craziest, most intense character the wrestling world has ever seen, and it tears me up that he passed away at the age of 58 in a heart-attack-induced car accident just a few days ago, just one year after he finally found peace and married his latest wife.

I am so glad that the WWE paid him a video tribute on the May 23rd edition of Raw. It was a bit of a shock, knowing how many bridges he had burned, and how he remains persona non grata in an age when even the bitterest prodigal sons such as Bret “Hitman” Hart came back home for one last blaze of glory in the WWE.

Rest in peace, Macho Man. The madness will never die.

We are all Savages.

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Categories Wrestling

Viva El Grande Pututoy!

By MDJ Superstar
January 22, 2011 //
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It’s no secret that I grew up wanting to be a professional wrestler.

The lights. The chants of the crowd. The glory. The spandex. The baby oil.

Oh, the wonders of being a play-for-pay grappler.

The Mexican luchador, a practitioner of the ancient high-flying wrestling style of lucha libre (literally, the “free fight”), holds his mask as most sacred among all his possessions. It represents honor, purity, heritage, and strength – things that MDJ Superstar has long stood for in Philippine society.

Such is the level of reverence held for their masks, that literally the greatest shame for a luchador is to be unmasked in public. Such legends of the sport as El Hijo Del Santo, Dos Caras, Mil Mascaras, and Rey Misterio, Jr. have been known to shower in their masks, and even be buried in their masks.

Heck, I once even bought myself a plastic championship belt, just so I would know the feeling of walking into a room with a sparkling gold plate slung over my pulsing deltoids.

But I digress.

This latest present, sent to me all the way from the South American chapter of the International MDJ Superstar Fan Club of the World, takes the cake. It’s now my new favourite fashion accessory.

I have now arrived at my new alternative career: Mexican luchador.

Let the world beware, for El Grande Pututoy has now arrived.

Today, I put on a mask. I stop being a man. And start being a legend.

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Categories Personal, Wrestling

How A Playgirl Centerfold Model Put On The Greatest Wrestling Match Of All Time

By MDJ Superstar
October 13, 2010 //
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It was 1997, and DeGeneration-X was riding roughshod all over World Wrestling Entertainment.

They had exiled longtime fan favorite Bret “The Hitman” Hart over to WCW, along with his real-life brothers-in-law, “The British Bulldog” Davey Boy Smith, and Jim “The Anvil” Neidhart.

They formally ushered in the legendary “Attitude” era that transformed the Monday Night Wars.

They brought edginess, danger, and ultimately a touch of mainstream acceptability to professional wrestling, which to that point had always been seen as a realm for kid fantasy, what with all the over-the-top cartoonish characters that had grown to populate the industry at the time – a wrestling garbageman, a man who claimed to hail from the future and had a jetpack to prove it, Doink the Clown, and a slow-witted Ugandan savage who needed the audience to “coach” him to roll his opponent onto his back before pinning him.

It had been that kind of world.

“The Heartbreak Kid” Shawn Michaels & the newly renamed “Triple H” Hunter Hearst Helmsley, together with their muscular female valet Chyna, turned everyone on their ears with their degenerate ways and crotch-chopping antics. They were assholes to the highest degree, less socially-acceptable than a jelly-covered grandma, and lived to torment authority to its absolute limit. They introduced “Suck It!” into the popular lexicon of 12-year olds, and made dry-humping, thong underwear, and gay jokes part of wrestling legend.

They were irreverent, insufferably too-cool-for-school, and knew they were just That Damn Good. Nobody could do a thing to stop them.

Shawn Michaels had even posed for Playgirl Magazine, with nothing but a WWE Championship Belt to cover up his Little Showstopper.

Enter Sergeant Slaughter, an All-American Hero who stood for justice, discipline, and integrity. He even had a GI Joe action figure of his own to back up how upstanding and righteous and all-around awesome he was.

His plan? Fracture DeGeneration-X from within, by forcing Shawn Michaels to lay his coveted European Championship on the line against his own stablemate and real-life best-friend Triple H in the main event of Monday Night Raw.

Their match, as it turned out, was nothing less than epic…

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Categories Personal, Wrestling

The Baby Oil Boys’ Club: Randy Orton’s Indecent Proposal to John Cena

By MDJ Superstar
June 30, 2010 //
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Look, so I know it isn’t incredibly hip or avant garde to be a pro wrestling fan in the 21st century, but I just cannot ever outgrow this lovely little “soap opera for men.”

Action, drama, suspense, and even homoerotic propositions and thinly-veiled sexual tension between two well-waxed young lions.

What more could a Superstar ask for?

And to anyone who’s ever made that tired old joke about how pro wrestling fans “love watching two oiled-up muscular men in Speedos rolling around in each other’s arms,” all I have to say to you is:

DAMN.

I will be a life-long President of the Baby Oil Boys’ Club for as long as I live.

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Categories Wrestling

Thank You Shawn – The Heartbreak Kid Says Goodbye to the Wrestling World

By MDJ Superstar
April 8, 2010 //
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Growing up, my absolute favourite wrestler was Bret “The Hitman” Hart. And that meant I was hardwired to loathe his real-life nemesis, “The Heartbreak Kid” Shawn Michaels – the man who screwed him out of his final WWE World Championship, and ran him out of the company for 13 long and bitter years.

He was cocky, he was arrogant, and a notorious prima donna. No surprise that he even posed for Playgirl magazine, with nothing more than a championship belt to cover his “Little Showstopper.”

But it’s hard to hold a grudge against greatness, and over the years, I don’t think any pro wrestler has ever been able to combine the complete package that ol’ HBK did.

He could fly – Ric Flair never could.

He could talk – Bret Hart never could.

He could put on a technical showcase – Hulk Hogan never could.

He could go balls-out hardcore – The Rock never could.

He could do everything that a wrestler could dream of doing, wrestle any style that was called for with any opponent, and mould it all into a character that the crowd, whether they were booing him or cheering him, would always invest in emotionally.

It’s been 8 years since Shawn last held a World Heavyweight title, yet he’s never failed to put on the best match of the night, the true Main Event for anyone in attendance.

It’s sad that he lost his retirement match against the Undertaker at WrestleMania 26. He could have kept on going forever. But as he rightfully said, he’s a man of 44 years, no longer a child, and his family needs him more than we as his fans ever could.

Shawn Michaels is truly the greatest professional wrestler of all time. The Showstopper. The Icon. The Main Event. All his nicknames hold true, and we are all blessed to have been able to play witness to his legend.

And let’s not forget – we once had to live without him for four painful years, when a broken back he suffered at the hands of the Undertaker in a Casket Match forced him out of wrestling until his body could heal itself from the torque and trauma it had absorbed through the years. That was hard enough.

I’m sad to see him go once more, this time for good, but proud to have danced to the beat of his Sweet Chin Music.

Thank you, Shawn.

The Heartbreak Kid has left the building.

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Categories Wrestling
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