Essential Matches of the 00s

I've been digging through pay-per-views and "best of"s to find what I think are the essential matches of the last decade.

Here's the match that ranks Number One for me, which occurred at Wrestlemania 22, probably the best event of the 00s. AND, it took place in Chicago.

Over Now and Then: Jimmy Snuka and Kofi Kingston

If there's one thing that The Wrestler got wrong from a fan perspective, it's the belief that fans would buy Mickey Rourke holding one's fist to your head and limply leaping from the top rope to head-butt an opponent as a legitimate top-draw finishing move. There's little pizazz to it, which is not a condemnation of using regular moves as big time finishers; Randy the Ram just sucked at it.

To really go over, you need to look at Shawn Michaels "Sweet Chin Music," the fact that Jake "The Snake" could get away with DDTing people for 4 decades, or our two wrestlers today: Kofi Kingston and Jimmy "Superfly" Snuka.

Let's get their obvious draw out of the way. They both play high flying, high risk, fast wrestlers while playing up the Islander (Fiji or Jamaica or Ghana or wherever) stereotype. Two Monday's ago, Michael Cole referred to Kingston getting amped up as "going savage," a phrase with enough negative connotation to keep a sociology professor talking for hours. And rightfully so. I guess I was expecting more wrestling stereotypes to have either died out or become cumbersome to fans who have to continue justifying a love for a fake sport. Regardless, both have legitimate claims to their ethnicity at least, and the caricatures painted where never quite at the Chief Wahoo McDaniel level (though, again, he was one of the few actual American Indians playing an American Indian angle). I guess the intrigue of making someone "exotic" is a real human draw no matter when, and I guess the best you can hope for when someone is playing heavily on their ethnicity is that they're doing it out of pride. (Even if someone would argue that they're doing it wrong; I can't answer that.)

But a big 'screw you' to Michael Cole for keeping that "savage mode" thing around. It does make one wonder, for the sake of pushing someone over, if it is Cole or his character saying it. I mean, Cole's a pretty predominant heel as an announcer, so there's always that chance that he says things like that to reinforce that his tainted worldview would think of Kingston that way. Maybe a comment like that, had it been said in the 80s or early 90s, would be considered an allure of the exotic whereas now it is an ignorant man's world view that the fan is supposed to become angered by.

Maybe I'm giving wrestling too much credit.

But I've talking about it longer than I'd hoped to, already. As my hero Debbie Reese taught me, things like this are important discussions, and the point of bringing them up isn't to accuse anyone, but rather to evaluate. She's a genius at handling the evaluation of identity issues, and I am not. I think it's important to note that, years apart, it's an aspect they both used to build heat, as well as many others in the wrestling business. It doesn't make me like these two any less.

But as I indicated earlier, I'm hoping to link some things a bit more less obvious.

Like the fact that Kingston's finishing move is kicking someone in the face.

Rey Mysterio's 6-1-9 has all of the acrobatics in the world, including a need to articulately force his opponent to land on the second rope before the move begins. Kingston can do his move at almost any time. There's a bit more pizazz to the Tornado kick than "Sweet Chin Music," with the spin and all, but you can see that it isn't as intricate as a figure-four, power bomb, or even the RKO. But I've witnessed at least three occurrences of audiences leaping out of their seats in unison at the sight of a Kingston kick. The move's got pull.

Superfly also did what any other wrestler could attempt numerous times a match. In addition to his Superfly Kick, his more famous finisher, the "Superfly Splash," was jumping off of the top rope. His throwing up the "I love you" sign to show appreciation to the crowd was much more direct than the Ram amping up, and his ability to leap high was insane. Add to that a sticking out of the tongue, a flailing of the limbs, and the drama of all that hair following him, and you've got quite the show-stopper.

The crowd interaction really sold Snuka's moves and helped put him over, and Kingston carries on the fan interaction with call and response. If you can get 10,000 people to scream "BOOM!" with you every time you stomp a foot, clap your hands, or land a punch, then you know you're over, and over well.

But I don't think that Kingston is being set up to ascend like he should for as over as he is, which could limit him, and I don't think he'll get the legacy that Snuka did. Imagine this: Snuka was brought back in the early 90s to put over a bunch of young superstars, namely The Undertaker and his Wrestlemania winning streak.

At that point, after a decade of superstardom and incredible matches, they brought him back to be completely destroyed. To know that a legend could be demolished so easily and so quickly really helped the Undertaker's angle. Now imagine them doing the same with Kingston in 2015: He's just not there yet. And unless he picks up a belt again soon, I think he might not make it to that point. Mysterio? He could do that, and I'd argue he's about comparable with Kingston as far as popularity goes.

It will likely never be associated within the WWE or many historical comparisons, but evaluating where Kofi Kingston sits today reveals an awful lot about just how legendary Jimmy Snuka is.

Over Now and Then: Rey Mysterio and Rey Mysterio

I guess if I added the "Jr." to the first it would be easier to tell him apart from himself, but let's not get picky.

Rey Mysterio entered the WCW as part of a brilliant move on the part of Eric Bischoff. To populate mid-cards he went out and signed a whole lot of Lucha Libre wrestlers out of Mexico and independent American circuits. The acrobatics stood out against the larger, brute force wrestlers and kept people excited between the opening and main events. They carried heat with their signature moves, but also with themes based on cultural stereotypes surrounding wrestling tradition, customs, and the respect they carry.

You know what got Rey Mysterio over? Dude is tiny. Tiny, fan friendly, appreciative, and fearless. He had one gimmick that seemed to stick out: he held the tradition of anonymity behind the mask to be sacred. Others wore masks without question, some wrestled without, but Mysterio actively made the secret identity behind the mask a focus. WCW eventually used this storyline to unmask him after several bouts with Eddie Guerrero (who I would argue made the best transition into WCW mainstays).

The Rey Mysterio of the WWE is a different character: more fleshed out, but also devoid of the Cruiserweight limitations held within the WCW (though to be fair, Bischoff at least created a belt for them). This has caused Rey to have to adjust his in-ring technique to handle battling wrestlers outside of his size and style, but he's done it well. Whereas before, two luchadores could go full bore at each other in a multi-move bout of choreography, you can see Rey adjust his speed (often mid-move) to accommodate his opponents, go for more subtle maneuvers, and even depend on the "6-1-9" (tripping an opponent onto the second rope, then performing a spinning kick to their face) as a finisher instead of the Frankensteiner or the elaborate DDT seen above.

(Comically, when Rey does seem to find himself with little where else to go, you'll notice he'll kick his opponent in the face. It works in the context of the fight, but next time you see him wrestle, especially a larger opponent, count how many times he kicks the guy in the face while they're sitting up.)

Something else to consider in his re-branding. In the WCW, Rey was proud of his Mexican heritage, devoid of thuggish behavior or gimmicks, and incredibly respectful of all opponents. Meanwhile, a counterpart like Konnan maintained an urban culture persona and spoke Spanish to the crowd in call and response. It went over incredibly well. I shouted "la viva la raza" with no clue as to what it meant for most of the 90s.

Now, Mysterio identifies with the American are code "619," which not only carries a level of nationalism but also carries a connotation within hip-hop culture, representing one's native area. (I rep the 217 like nobody's business.) If you look at a character like John Cena, from his entrance music and popularity and ridiculous 5-Knuckle-Shuffle, it's clear that what was once considered incredibly edgy then is sorta a non-issue now.

I don't mean to harp on WCW errors, but it does make it hard to consider how popular Mysterio would have been if they ever opened up the weight classes legitimately like they do now. The relative sizes of their heat can't be compared on a one-to-one ratio, but his ability to connect to fans has kept him in the spotlight wherever he's been. He's undeniably one of the biggest wrestlers going.

Figuratively.

... dude's tiny.

Over Now and Then: John Cena and Bill Goldberg

Consider this lesson in heat a lesson in marketing.

Bill Goldberg entered the WCW and carried fan favoritism for an incredibly long time based around his wrestling persona. Beginning in 1997, the once-football-player dismantled all competition in the running storyline that he was a dangerous, unstoppable force. He didn't do interviews, he barely acknowledged the crowd, he needed to be escorted from his locker room to the ring by armed guards (one of the most ridiculous things, looking back, but a great hook), and many of his matches lasted but seconds. That last part is fairly important, as fans were more excited to see complete domination than a drawn-out anything. No one felt cheated, everyone was happy, and the chants of "Goooooold-beerrrg, Gooooooold-beerrrg" still bounce around in my head over a decade later.

I'll acknowledge, it was all a bit silly, but no more silly than seeing a collective 16,000 people standing up and waving their hands in front of their faces when a wrestler's music starts.

This, as most modern day viewers know, is the designation to indicate that "you can't see me," a phrase branded on everything marketed for John Cena. Without a doubt the most popular figure in WWE right now, Cena's been pushed as a movie star, a face, and sold to us as an outstanding citizen in his free time.

He's also a polar opposite to the invincible Goldberg. Cena loses. A lot. Sure, there's usually some bit of screwing involved, but rarely do fans want to believe a heel legitimately won something. Whereas Goldberg's place on the pantheon was based on an inability to lose, Cena's draw tends to focus on a more human element. Recently, Cena was fired based on the conditions of a match he lost. When he was reinstated, he had to overcome a beating by Nexus, a group of upstarts being marketed as the next heel force. That same night, he had to win a match against one of their members.

Two nights ago, at a pay-per-view event, Cena had to defeat the leader of Nexus in a match where using chairs was legal. It was the main event.

Let me say this again: It was the main event.

What wasn't the main event? A 4-way match for the World Heavyweight Championship, a match for the WWE Championship, and a match for the tag team championship.

I could get into the complexities of how mind-boggling that is (especially given the theme of the event and the content of specific matches), but I'll spare you my detailed befuddlement and cut to the chase.

If you look out on any crowd at any WWE show, you'll find that 30 to 40% of the entire crowd are wearing some sort of Cena-related item or holding a Cena-related sign. This is cyclical, as the WWE has obviously promoted him well, and they must continue to make decisions to appease the fanbase.

The WCW lost this with Goldberg. Cena was in a movie, so WWE produced it. They promoted the movie on their TV shows, they continued putting him over in matches, they covered all of the promotional events that he did within his show, and they sold merchandise like effing crazy. Even the "U [see with the circle-crossed out sign] ME" gimmick has been branded on shirts, sweatbands, hats... probably underwear, though that seems insulting.

Goldberg didn't have this. He had a few t-shirts and an action figure, neither of which were prominently featured on Nitro. He was doing other things, though. I keep harping on Bobby Heenan's criticism of WCW's handling of Goldberg, but it's so true: appearances with Mark McGwire, etc: they really missed the mark on the marketing.

And perhaps because of this, the people calling the shots on matches (we won't get into how bad it was allowing Kevin Nash to do this) didn't see the benefits of keeping the heat cyclical. In fact, their most prominent-selling brand was NWO. Maybe even because of this, they ended up having Goldberg lose the belt to an NWO member (Kevin Nash... I won't get into it...).

What that really did, though, was take some of the heat of Goldberg too early. It's too bad. Unlike Cena, they were marketing something indestructible. Then, they broke it.

But, again, let that be a lesson in marketing.

How the Hell Did This Happen?

(from flickr user gajbireland)

I've been observing both the WWE and TNA recently, and my complaints are many. I'm going to shelve them, though, in order to focus on the damndest thing I've ever seen: John Cena has heat. Crazy heat. More than I've seen since probably Goldberg or Degeneration X.

And I'm confounded by this, because I've been watching DVDs of pay-per-views dating back to 2008, and the fan enthusiasm for him has been unfathomable. It's so overwhelming, that it doesn't even stick out in the context of "vs. other current wrestlers."

But I'm not interested in the wrestling of this millennium in the context of itself, but only how it would compare to that of 90s stars (or I should say stars in the 90s: be prepared for a Mysterio v. Mysterio article). With that in mind, articles should begin trickling in comparing a few stars of now to stars of then, beginning first with Cena and Goldberg. Granted, I'm not hoping to draw an analog to current storylines (or I'd put Cena up against Steve Austin), or even wrestlers of similar talent (or I'd put Cena with Hogan). I'm just hoping to create some sort of story tying two wrestlers together that isn't necessarily analogous.

Tune in later today.

Why TNA May Pull a WCW

Watch live video from GeekWeek on Justin.tv

So there's a good chance that you're not going to want to watch a 2 hour interview with Mick Foley, but you should.

To cut to the chase of the what I'm interested in here, there's something that came up in Bobby Heenan's book that I didn't touch on. WCW had an ultimate failure in self-promotion. During the Monday Night Wars, wrestlers were, probably more than ever again, crossing over into widespread mainstream culture. I mean, hell, Goldberg, at his height, was showing up at Cardinals games to hang out with Mark McGwire, in HIS height. As Brain points out, McGwire rubbed his bat with a Goldberg t-shirt. (The irony of how many view both accomplishments with degrees of 'fake'ness now is not lost on me.)

And this type of stuff wouldn't get mentioned on Nitro. To McMahon's credit, Heenan points out multiple times, clips from these things would be all over WWF programming.

So now we've got TNA, whose hottest property, whether they know it or not, is Mick Foley. He's showing up at cultural touchstones like The Rally to Restore Sanity, getting an award, and TNA doesn't even bother with a mention of it. Now, call it a fake rally or whatever, and call his award a pretend one, but you cannot argue the following:

1. Jon Stewart and the Daily Show's appeal for the media to calm the hell down was met with an overly defensive media.
2. The award Foley received was for defending the bullied, an incredibly important topic (which to TNA's credit, they have began an anti-bullying campaign).

So to not cash in on this is silly. It's positive press, free advertising, and letting whatever fringe fans who happen to watch without loyalty know that they're part of something relevant. Maybe in the days of ECW it was cool to be part of the completely fringe group, but if there's a sense that this fringe might be a pop-culturally relevant minority, it's a lot more likely to earn loyalty.

So When Foley tweeted that he was catching flak from TNA for comments made in the above Geek Week interview, they really need to know: they're dropping the ball.

Best Wife Ever?

As seen on the best sports blog ever, by their best writer.