Archives for posts with tag: WWE

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…

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.

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.

There are very few things I like better than WWE pro wrestling, and few men I hold in higher esteem than the Sultan of Shat, William Shatner.

That’s why it blew my mind to see him on WWE Raw last week, holding guest host duties, and singing, in his usual impassioned, imploring manner, the greatest, most iconic theme songs of today’s generation of WWE superstars.

Nobody owns spoken word the way he does. All hail The Shat.

If The Shat sings it, we all needs to brings it.

Bret “The Hitman” Hart. The greatest hero of my childhood, and the man who made me believe back when I was just a fat little prepubescent Superstar that invoking the excellence you wished yourself to be was the first big step in actually achieving it.

Even a career-ending concussion from a misplaced Goldberg thrust kick, a subsequent stroke from a biking accident, and the tragic in-ring death of his youngest brother Owen couldn’t stop him from coming home and making peace before the entire WWE Universe.

Truly the best there is, the best there was, the best there ever will be.

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