Sunday, 25 September 2011

Hidden Wrestling History: Part 1 The Secret Truth of the First Intercontinental Title Tournament

Apologies for failing to blog recently but I've been working on a series of major exposes of the world of pro wrestling.


First up - The Secret Truth of the First Intercontinental Title Tournament



The Truth behind the first Intercontinental Title Tournament.

During any defence of the IC title, or appearance by Pat Patterson, or in some unfortunate situations the defence of Pat Patterson (often by a lawyer - don't judge, it's not his fault some of those ring boys are so damned attractive), the announcers will offer a knowing wink to the smart fans and fans of wrestling history and mention the night in Rio De Janeiro when Pat won the tournament and became the inaugural IC champion.

Oh how we chuckle at home as we envision the giant “quote marks” that bookend any smug comment about Mr P's greatest moment. Since the late 1990's when pro wrestling started to drift away from the strict rule of kayfabe, like a poorly tethered oil tanker drifting from its moorings to bring sticky doom to a legion of baby seals and puffins, or the Road Warriors drifting from all that made them great and using Rocky the doll as their inspiration, even the most casual of fans knows the truth all too well, the tournament was a work, that the tournament never happened.

Doesn't it feel good to be in on the joke?

For those readers not acquainted with the story, here is a potted version:

Dateline 1979 – Pat Patterson defeats Ted DiBiase for the North American Heavyweight Title. I know, I'd never heard of it either – a cursory Wikipedia search suggests it was a short lived title that was awarded to DiBiase upon his first signing with the WWF. Patterson then proceeds to take his newly won title down to Rio to partake in a tournament to crown a champion of many continents – an Intercontinental Champion if you will.

He wins and returns triumphant to the US to defend this prestigious new belt against all the W(W)WF talent. Well the talent that wasn't deemed good enough to challenge for the world title but competent wrestlers for the most part. Ken Patera would soon relieve him of the belt and a new title lineage was begun. A lineage that would include such luminaries as Test, Chyna and Santino Marella. If, in 1979, the belt had known the weight of history that was to come, it would have buckled immediately.

Side Note: What kind of hold did DiBiase have over the McMahons? Vince the Elder creates a title when Ted signs for the first time, and is later given a billionaire lifestyle when Junior Vinnie acquires his services. I know that he was considered one of the premier workers of his or any generation but Harley Race may be top three all time had to wear a tin crown and polyester cape and job remorselessly for the Junkyard Dog. Terry Taylor was no slouch between the ropes and all he got was a pink Mohawk and the freedom to “cock-a-doodle-doo” at liberty in his promo's. Dusty Rhodes was given spandex polka dots as acknowledgement of his contributions to the grapple game. Perhaps the McMahons got it right occasionally, but I digress.
Behind the smug chuckles and knowing smiles, the WWF harbours a secret, a deep dark secret that it has kept quiet for over thirty years. but it is time for the conspiracy of silence to end and lift the veil of secrecy.

It has taken a lot of research - leafing through reams of old newspaper clippings and microfiche (there's a reference for the teenagers – microfiche! Lets put some deely boppers on and listen to Debbie Gibson), some bribery, a little intimidation, a smidgeon of guesswork, and yes, the granting of one or two sexual favours (I'll go that far for a scoop, don't judge me) but here we have the true story of the Intercontinental Title Tournament.

It actually happened!

(pause for dramatic effect)
Yes, the tournament that we all know is fictional is as real as Milli Vanilli's vocal work or the WMD's in Iraq. No, wait. Its real and here is the untold story.

It's March 1979 and Vince McMahon Sr is running the World Wide Wrestling Federation. He has a champion who draws well but he knows his promotion is lacking something. Many of his wrestlers are touring overseas and performing for big crowds in Japan, which was at the time, easily the most profitable territory in the world. Vince Sr decides he wants a piece of this action, but how? The AWA and NWA both have strong links over there which will be hard to break and his spoken Japanese is only marginally better than his ability juggle chainsaws. He consults with his trusted right hand man – Gorilla Monsoon – but can't understand a bloody word he says so he looks back at what worked before and calls his brain trust into his office.
As was the style at the time, megalomaniac bosses were wont to record every conversation in their offices. Nixon started it and was impeached but many CEO's ignored this minor inconvenience, preferring to focus on the benefits of recording for posterity the many hilarious ways they proposition their secretary for sex. Vince Sr was no different and here in it's unredacted form is a transcript f the fateful conversation.

Vince Sr (for it is he) “Guys, we need a slice of the Japanese pie”
Pat Patterson “Sushi boss”
VM “What?”
PP “They eat sushi over dere boss, not pie. They don't eat no American food, it's what makes 'em so unscrupulous”
VM “Unscrupu-what? I don't know about pie but you must have swallowed a dictionary Pat”
All: Much sycophantic laughter, nothing changes around the McMahons
VM: “Anyhoo, we need a slice of the Japanese whatever and I got an idea of how to do it. Gorilla?”
Gorilla Monsoon: “Yeah boss”
VM: “Didn't we work with Inoki in that disastrous thing with Ali in 75?” That was Japanese wasn't it?”
GM: “It was but we kinda took a bath on that one remember? Even Andre couldn't save us”
VM: “Aah, I blame the boxers, pansy asses to a man” If they had Bruno in there it woulda all been different”
GM “Sure would boss, it woulda been a regular wrestling match”
VM: “You ain't helping Gorilla”
GM “ Sorry boss”
VM: “ Back to business, I got a point here to make. We gotta synergise!”
All: Blank stares all round
VM: “You know do stuff together – Not that Pat, put it away! - my boy Junior taught me the word. We are gonna take a piece of the sushi and boost our own sushi at the same time”
GM: “Do we actually have sushi cause I'm getting hungry. Pie would be good too”
VM: “Can it fatso. Now what is it that we've been needing more of for ages?
Jack Brisco enters the room
JB “ A comeback from the legendary Brisco brothers?”
PP: “An increase in the number of ring boys”
GM: “more pie?
VM: “No you morons – titles, we need more titles and I got just the one we need”. The NWA has their US Title right? Well we are gonna make a North American Title, huh? Huh?
Non-committal grunts from all present until, in a timid voice, Pat speaks up.
PP “But boss, you wanted a piece of sushi, ain’t no sushi in North America”
VM “Thats the genius part. Gather round boys because this is pure gold. We make a North American title then merge it with another title to make that new title even better!”
GM “But it can't be bigger that than the world title boss”
VM “True, we need something thats bigger than the US but smaller than the World, c'mon guys, we need ideas”
JB “The moon”
PP “The sea”
GM “Europe”
PP “Gorilla you idiot, Europe’s a country”
GM “It's a continent actually, I leaned it it night school, there’s a bunch of em, Europe, North America, erm, South America and.... well look it up, I ain't your teacher!”
VM “Hush up your bickering, the fat goofball may be onto something here!
GM “Hey!”
VM “ You're fat, deal with it. Japan’s a continent right?!
GM “It's In a continent boss”
VM “Great, so we make the new belt a belt for the continents. The Multi Continental Title!” No, wait, the Intercontinental Title!!! That works, right guys”
Enthusiastic nodding all round followed by much rolling of eyes when Vince's back is turned”
VM “So we take the North American Title, put on a Japanese guy and call it the intercontinental title. We get a foothold in the sushi and watch the money roll in! Perfect. Should we use Inoki again?”
GM “ We kinda owe him. He was a good sport about it – the Yakuza din't kill us or anything”
JB “ Aww not that guy, he thinks he is a real tough guy, what an ass”
PP “What an ass indeed!”
JB (ignoring Pat) “Anyway boss, how do we do it, we can't just have one of our guys lay down for a Jap guy, it'll be like Pearl Harbour again”
GM “tasteless Jack, tasteless. Anyway, why don't we hold a tournament? Our guy can be cheated by someone so he doesn't do a clean job. Inoki can swoop in and win the title. We don't lose face and it's sushi all round, whaddya say”
VM (ponders for a few seconds) “I love it! Lets make it happen. An eight man tournament, one guy representing each continent, winner takes all”
JB “Seven boss”
VM “Say what?”
JB (referring to an encyclopedia) “says here there are seven continents, don't ask me to pronounce 'em”
VM “OK a seven man tournament, one from every continent”
GM “ can't have a tournament with seven guys boss, one guy won't have the same number of matches, won't be fair.
JB “or Penguins”
All turn puzzlingly at Brisco
JB “Says here that the only people living in one of em is penguins”
PP “Penguins ain't people dumbass”
VM “ And they sure as hell ain't wrestlers either. Okay, so we got six guys. We give two of em byes to the second round, Inoki gets one – it will keep him sweet and we can decide the other”
All “Great boss” “good thinking” “I really want some pie”
VM Now go away and get me my six, and a place to hold it. Not MSG, and not Japan. We gotta be seen to be neutral on this. Gorilla, you map out the finishes, Jack, get me the six wrestlers, Pat, find me the venue, somewhere exotic, this needs to have some mystery and glamour”
PP “I know just the place, I go there all the time!”

With that, the brain trust depart.

Gorilla maps out a standard tournament with finishes designed to make Inoki get over and Protect the Yank.

Pat immediately books his usual suite at the the downtown hotel in Rio and starts scouting. After a few days he decides to search for venues in stead.

Jack looks for international wrestlers to fill out the bracket. Easier said than done in the pre-internet days. From his notepad, we learned the following:

Asia – Antonio Inoki. Done deal

Europe . Jack clearly knows wrestling is popular in Europe, but because he knows he will end up having to run this thing he doesn't want any more language issues than he will already face so he wants a British guy. He calls Judo Al Hayes. Al says it couldn't be more obvious. The biggest draw in Britain – Big Daddy.

For those unfamiliar with Big Daddy, he was fat. Thats pretty much it. His signature move was the belly bump where he would thrust his bulbous stomach at the opponent who would be so overwhelmed that he would lay down in fear of further fatness. He also wore a top hat and sequins, and his real name was Shirley. I shit you not, look it up. The British were easily pleased back then

North America – Figuring that Pat would head one of his favourite hotspots for the venue and would insist on tagging along to help out, he might as well make him the competitor – saves on airfare.

Australasia – Tough one, there aren't many to choose from. The Sheepherders are mental so they are out. Jack decides to call up Roy Heffernan of the Royal Kangeroos to work one for old times sake.

Africa – Apparently the One Man Gang expressed an interest, babbling on about his spiritual heritage but McMahon said he wanted legitimate competitors from each continent so it has to be a real. African. Easy choice- Kamala, The Ugandan Giant.

South America –
The captain of the Titanic failing to keep an eye out for icebergs
Greedo shooting first in the bar in Mos Eisley
Alan Rickman taking Bruce Willis' wife hostage in Die Hard

These are all pivotal moments where just taking that extra moment to consider the consequences of ones actions would have made all the difference. In this situation, here is that decision.

Knowing they are going to Rio (fucking Patterson and his love of cabana boys) a place hitherto not known as a pro wrestling hotbed, Jack foregoes the wealth of talent available in Mexico and Puerto Rico. Instead he quite reasonably decides that they need a local guy to ensure the crowds show up. He puts a few calls in and presumably due to the language difficulties, fails to communicate what he wants but still comes away thinking he has the perfect guy. A Brazilian hero, many years experience and with a tough guy reputation to boot, perfect. The South American representative will be...

Helio Gracie.

Yes, Helio Gracie, father of Brazilian Ju Jitsu and papa of the fightingest clan of hard cases ever to put a choke hold on a sucker. If you are unaware of his accomplishments, read this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helio_gracie

Now you understand why this may have been a little unwise, all things considered.

As far as the WWWF were concerned, the whole thing was set. All participants duly accepted the invitation because, well, a few days in Rio, a hefty paycheck and the knowledge that almost nobody at home will ever hear about it, made the whole thing very appealing. The North American title was created as planned and given to Ted DiBiase (who, feeling he was somehow special, kept asking for someone to carry it around for him. He didn't specify it should be a man of colour but that was the impression Vince Sr got) In relatively short order, the title was transitioned to Pat Patterson ready for him to put it up in the tournament. The title that is.

The date was set. A tournament in Rio on September 1st 1979. From a scrap of paper found in a (formerly) locked filing cabinet in Titan Towers, we have determined that the original seeding and tournament plan was as follows.

Seed

1 Antonio Inoki. Received a bye to the second round
2 Helio Gracie. Also receives a bye as he is the local boy
3 Pat Patterson
4 Kamala
5 Big Daddy
6 Roy Heffernan

Kamala and Heffernan were to be the sacrificial lambs in round 1, thereby setting up a semi final bracket of Inoki vs Daddy and Gracie vs Patterson. Inoki would go over clean while Patterson would be cheated of victory by a biased local referee. In the final, Inoki would prevail over the local hero in an epic match where the crowd would be so impressed that they would take this foreigner to their hearts and embrace above all others. This grotesque stroking of the ego was the only way Inoki would sign on to the deal.

In the words of the poet Robert Burns, “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry”. Rarely has a truer word been spoken. I have located a rare interview with a member of the WWWF team who ran the event telling all about what happened on the first night. I do not know who the interviewer was and cannot verify the authenticity of the tape but the level of detail lead me to believe it was the real thing. He would only speak under a pseudonym so for the purposes of the interview, he was to be referred to as “Skarnold Aaland” or SA for short. What follows are transcripts of the key excerpts of the interview.

Interviewer “ So what was was it like when you got there?”
SA “It was freakin' crazy man! I seen all sorts o' shit in Koh-rea (sic) when the boys in my batallion got a little battle-nuts you know what I mean but they way them guys reacted when they got to Rio, man you woulda thought the inmates had been given to the keys to the asylum man”
IV “What do you mean?”
SA “Sheeeet, they went crazy, they all knew ain't nobody at home gonna see this so they figured they could just go out an party in the car-ne-val and turn up to the tournament all bent outta shape and hungover and shit. Man they just didn't give a flying you know whut”
SA “All except Inoki o' course. He arrives in a private jet an all with the biggest entourage I ever seen. He steps off the plane and I seen the look on his face when he took them shades off, man that was one unhappy Japanese cat. You woulda thought someone had taken a giant dump under his nose that very second the way he twisted his face. Right then I knew this whole situation was gonna turn ugly – and I was right. I even told Jack (Brisco), I said Jackie, I said, you an me should just get our asses on the next flight and get the hell outta Dodge cos this shit is gonna get a whole lot worse before it gets better,. Course he wasn't listenin' cos he knew that if he pulled this off, he would be able to split from that southern company he was in and go work for Vince full-time. Not many people knew it but he was in with the McMahons for years before Black Saturday or whatever they called it. Yep, him and Vince Senior were like two bugs in a rug, he just needed one big score to make it so he could come to New York full time”

(On Inoki)
SA “Y'see, old Inoki was not happy from minute one. He was expecting a big crowd of fans to meet him off the plane cos he was such a big star an' all but he never figured that Brazil ain't no wrasslin town and nobody, but nobody heard of him so his precious ego was battered from the start. Thats when the booking went all to shit”

(On the events leading up to the first match)
AS “So Gorilla is there with all the boys, going through the matches and how it's gonna go. The only problem is that half of em are hungover and the rest are still drunk so he ain't getting through to 'em real well”
That ain't his biggest problem o'course. Damned Inoki ain't showed, he's been in his hotel, bitchin' to Vince on the phone about how this wasn't what he expected and all that. Now Vince is panicking like shit cos with no Inoki, all his Japanese plans go up in smoke so he promises that Inoki can take the book on the tournament”
“Problem is, ain't nobody told Gorilla this until like two minutes befo' bell time”

AS “In retrospect, I probably shoulda noticed how quiet Gracie was being when Gorilla was talkin'. He was sat there in the corner in his fancy white Judo outfit while his buddy translated for him. I just thought he was being polite, what with him in a faggoty-ass costume, he probably didn't wanna risk upsetting the shit kickers we had in the room”. “Anyway, Inoki comes in and says (through his translator o' course) that the plan had changed and the seeds didn't matter. He was going to wrestle his semi final against the local boy instead so the fans could see how great he was and make him the face for the final”

AS “ Gorilla wasn't best pleased with this but he's a pro, he knew he could make it work. The other boys didn't really give a shit. If I'm honest, I think they cottoned on to what a prick Inoki was and knew better than to argue, and as I said, they had all partaken of a little too much o' the nightlife and weren't best placed to make a stand. I mean, Heffernan looked like he was gonna puke, Kamala was groaning a lot and that Limey asswipe Shirley kept farting and farting. That sonofabitch had more noxious gas coming outta him than goddam three mile island. I swear, if thats how they are on the rainy little island of theirs you can keep it buddy”

AS “So they all walk out to the ring for the official introduction of the wrestlers and I'll be damned if the arena isn't full to busted. I heard that they gave up trying to keep people out, they were just dying to see this. I said to Gorilla I said, “Goh-rilla, we just might get this baby done” but he looked at me and he was as white as week old shit. I had no idea what was going on until he said “look at those guys”. Now there were four outta the six who looked like they was gonna pass out but two of em were smilin' – Inoki cos he thought they were all there for him, and Gracie – he had a kinda smirk that a cat would get when he knew he had the mouse cornered. Right then I knew that we were gonna have us some trouble that night”

(On the matches)

AS “The first couple of matches went as well as could be expected. Daddy went over Kamala in a piece a shit match between the two fat bastards but the crowd were fucking hyped man. I mean, you woulda thought they'd given speed to every man woman and child in the building. They was expecting something good tonight but I knew this wasn't it, but hey, a hot crowd is a hot crowd. Pat carried Roy through a five minute affair, no big whoops but that damn crowd didn't sit down through the whole thing”

“So now we got Daddy against Pat and Gracie layin' down for Inoki. Now I was at ringside for Pat and Captain Ass Gas' match and they put on a pretty good show for about ten minutes but then, just as Pat is callin' the screwjob spot, Daddy says something like (Puts on a northern English accent)

“Fook Pat, ahm fooked, y' gonna have to pin me lad, ah can't fooking stand up”

“I may not speak like the Queen o' England but I figured that meant that the Fart-o-matic 3000 was done, his goose was cooked and Pat realised it too. The mountain o' lard wasn't used to workin' one full match a night, forget two. Pat looked at me and I gave him the the nod that he's just gonna have to pin this guy. Gorilla wouldn't be happy but we was in a real tight bind”

“ Bow we get backstage and I'm expectin' to catch hell from Gorilla but there all sorts o' drama occurin' right about now. Turns out that one of Inoki's crew speaks the same language as one of Gracie's crew and when they tried to plan the match, hooh boy were there some crossed wires!”

“See, nobody knew Gracie was for real, I mean he was like some Bruce Lee type god over there. He wasn't here for the show, he was here to goddam fight. Inoki, being the arrogant prick he is figures he's got enough legit skills to take this guy on. Now I don't know Inoki's skills from a hole in the mud but from what Gracie's boy was telling me, this was gonna be like a chainsaw going up against a puddin' pop”

The report on the next match comes from a newspaper clipping from Jornal Des Sports from the following day, a small newspaper in Rio covering sporting events. This was the only reference I could find – I suspect there was a media blackout. I present selected translated excerpts.

Chaos reigned in the Arena los San Gennaro last night as beloved hero Helio Gracie was victorious in defeating the man who would seek to humiliate him by asking him to participate in a theatrical presentation of combat. Gracie, 66, the legendary creator of Ju Jitsu was fooled into thinking he was to be the host of a major international fighting tournament featuring the finest competitors from around the globe.

It is unclear at what point the ruse was uncovered but the fans in attendance quickly saw through the charade when two obese westerners, one a black man with symbols painted on his torso, the other, an elderly British man with a cape of sequins that would embarrass the most fervent carnival attendee, laboured through a laughable show of apparent combat.

At this point the local police chief was said to be considering halting the event, fearing the crowd, who had come expecting a serious tournament, would turn ugly, however upon consultation, it was decided that they had to see their hero or the situation would get out of hand.

After some more shameful theatrics, Gracie was due to compete. As befits his stature, Gracie stood tall in the ring awaiting his opponent – a Japanese man of questionable physical attributes who appeared to be very nervous but his arrogance was clear for all to see. The audience were at fever pitch as the awaited the inevitable destruction of the Oriental opponent who exhibited a bizarre array of apparent karate moves in an ill-fated attempt to intimidate the 10th degree red belt in the opposite corner.

Returning to the Skarnold Aaland interview

AS “Boy, I went me for a leak figurin' that I was gonna have to deal with all sorts o' crap after this match and I didn't wanna do that on a full bladder. I was strollin' outta the head zippin myself up when Pat cam runnin' up to me sayin (name deleted) “it's done, it's over and I ain't going out there against that madman!”. I was like “whats over Pat?” “The Inoki match, it was less than a minute and now Inoki is crying in the middle of the ring and his leg is bent in a crazy way”.

“I thought he was back on the pop if you get my drift but nope, he was right. Turns out Gracie was pissed at all of us for not clueing him to the business when he was a serious shoot guy, and he took it out on Inoki's tibula. Well now we got ourselves a situation that henry Kissinger hisself couldn't fix”

Much of the next five minutes was a garbled mess I have summarised the main points:

  • Gracie really did think it was a legit tournament and was not happy when he learned that it was pre-planned. Rather than withdraw and look like a coward, he chose to proceed but on his terms
  • Inoki had the opportunity to withdraw when he learned of Gracies background but decided that by beating a ju jitsu legend with his own martial arts skills, it would enhance his stature to god-like. He referred to his defeat of Muhammed Ali as proof that he was the king of all fighting arts. Seriously, what??
  • Patterson may or may not have soiled himself when he realised that he was due in the final against this man
  • The crowd gave Gracie a twenty minute ovation
  • Kamala, already in a cab on his way to the airport with Big Daddy, was last seen chuckling to himself about something and his departing comment to Patterson (in surprisingly good English for a Ugandan native, with a hint of southern twang) of “Good luck Pat, you'll need it” suggests that he may have known more about the situation than he let on.
  • Gorilla Monsoon and Jack Brisco were at panic level DefCon 5. They were frantically trying to find a fix to the tournament that would satisfy Vince and more importantly, not piss the crowd off so they could get out alive.

Back to Skarnold Aaland.

“I don't know if Gorilla has a guardian angel or if he's the luckiest sonofabitch I know. He was in a situation where he was gonna have to send Pat out to his death or take a whoopin' hisself from Vince. Gorilla tried getting one of the other guys to take the fall instead of Pat but Heffernan was out of it, he was drunk as a skunk, Kamala and the human stinkbomb had already hightailed it outta there and Inoki was in the emergency room threatening to sue everyone in sight. Anyway, just as we we preparing to sacrifice Pat, Gracie went on the house mic and started trashing the tournament and the WWWF before telling them that he wasn't gonna take any more part and walked outta the arena. Pheweee! Pat was off the hook. Only problem was that we didn't have a final and we thought the crowd were gonna be pissed if they didn't get a finish. That angel came back for an encore in the shape of the police chief who told us to get the hell outta there. The crowd were happy about Gracies speech but would riot if we sent anyone else out there. We didn't need tellin' twice, we grabbed our shit and ran to the airport! The arena announcer told the crowd that Gracie was the winner and we couldn't care less”

The aftermath.

  • Heffernan claims he cannot recall what happened the whole time. This may be due to the volume of alcohol consumed but it may also be to the agreement of silence that Vince Sr begged everyone involved to adhere to
  • Years later, upon being fired by Vince Jr, Kamala broke that silence and admitted that he did indeed realise what was happening that night and told Big Daddy during their match. Daddy, not being as stupid as he was obese, decided to take a dive in his semi-final.
  • Gracie made it clear to all concerned that if the WWWF ever set foot in his country again he would set his boys on them. To this day, pro wrestling in Brazil is a non-entity. One positive however was that Rorion, one of Gracie's boys, took inspiration from the idea and fifteen years later created the Ultimate Fighting Championship
  • Inoki was pissed off! This was not the way it was meant to go and he blamed everybody, not least of all, Vince Sr. Vince tried to make it up to him by creating a Martial Arts World Title for him at the following years Shea Stadium show but the damage was done and the WWWF never did gain a serious foothold in Japan.
  • With no official winner of the tournament, the Brain trust had the length of the flight back home to come up with a plausible story for Vince. The best they could come up with was to make Pat the new champion and keep the title as a secondary belt in the WWWF.
  • Amazingly, Vince was amenable to this suggestion and the title was born!
  • All who were involved were suitably embarrassed about the whole debacle that they did not need the threats / pleading / bribery from Vince to never discuss the tournament. There was an unspoken agreement that it never happened!

So there you have it, when you next hear that smug announcer make a snide comment about that night in Rio, intimating that it never occurred, just remember that he isn't as smart as he thinks he is. It's not that the Tournament never happened, it's that the Tournament NEVER HAPPENED OK!

Dr DR

Sunday, 14 August 2011

Failing to Join in with the Rioting


(Please note: This is a humourous piece, no attempt was made to start any trouble and the author in no way condones what happened)

Just like the scene in the Godfather where Clemenza (possibly) says to Sonny (or Michael, I’m not sure, it’s been a while) that a mafia war is needed every five years or so to sort out the bad blood, so Britain needs a good week of rioting to get things back on track. Its been nearly 30 years so we were due I think.

All in all it was an interesting week. We could focus on the negative – the destruction, the fires, the general level of shame brought upon a proud nation but on the other hand, the rioters and looters have a good time, a lot of people get new tv’s, the news has something juicy to report on, the public can tut and shake their heads at the state of the nation’s youth and all our insurance premiums go through  the roof – swings and roundabouts really.

The riots started in London following a peaceful protest.  The protest seemed very admirable and was over a real concern, not about say, losing game seven – I’m looking at you Vancouver. 

Despite our international reputation as being reserved and stuffy, the British really do enjoy a good bout of civil unrest as long as certain conditions are met:

1                     There is a big enough group of us so we can feel part of a team and the chances of being nabbed by the police diminishes the larger the gang

2                     There is a sufficient supply of scarves, hoodies and baseball caps to hide our identities given that we have four CCTV cameras to every adult in the country.

3                     It’s not raining

So it was a balmy summers evening when a critical mass or North London youths elected do their Christmas shopping early and have some impromptu automotive based barbecues.  Naturally this received wall to wall tv coverage so when the chavs* and scratters** from other parts of the country realised what a cost effective way this was of obtaining Ipods, trainers and giant tv’s, 40 watt lightbulbs started pinging into existence above adolescent baseball caps for as far as the eye could see.

The two areas of the country that were expected to see trouble were Manchester and Birmingham – the next two biggest cities in the country. We knew this because it was being organised on Facebook and Twitter. Say what you will about the ignorant and mindless youths that perpetrated the chaos, if there had been a JD Sports or T-Mobile shop in the middle of Bagdhad, they could have co-ordinated the overthrow of Saddams regime in a night.

Now I live in the West Midlands, which the region that Birmingham exists in and which was expected to see an uprising in the unwashed underclass desperate to break some windows and acquire mass produced electrical items. Major unrest was expected in Wolverhampton, Dudley, West Bromwich and Telford, but sadly not my own home town - Stafford.  Is it too middle class? Not ‘urban’ enough? Too many pensioners and not enough disaffected youth yearning for their voice to be heard?  Surely not – all they needed was a leader, an inspirational figure to get them started. That figure would have to be me.  Yes, I’m in my 30’s, no, I do not own a hoodie, no I have never broken the law and no, I do not have a posse but I’ll be damned if it was going to stop me.

The only problem I faced was how? Too young to have been involved in the riots in the early 80’s and too old to have given a monkeys about the student protests a few months ago, I was in no mans land.  A quick google search for how to get things going from scratch didn’t help so I was going to have to improvise.

What follows is a brief account of my efforts:

7.00 am – Woke up feeling emboldened by the events in London the night before and went into my kitchen and put my fist through the microwave.  Mrs Reckoning shot out of bed and expressed displeasure at this turn of events and packed me off to work with the telling off still ringing in my ears.  She made some good points about how was anyone going to know that I broke my own stuff and that it was tremendously stupid and irresponsible of me.  Irresponsible like a fox!

8.30 am – General disgust amongst my colleagues at the looting in London didn’t give me the groundswell of support I was anticipating. A few wellwishers enquired as to the injuries to my hand , explaining that it was all part of the cause and that we would be swimming in Rolex watches soon didn’t appear to be having the desired effect.

12.30 pm – A quick check on the BBC news website shows things have already started in West Brom.  Mixed feelings on this, on the one hand, the talk of it spreading to my area were true but on the other, would my attempts in Stafford look like the work of a copycat.

5.00 pm – Hometime at last. Not expecting a warm welcome at home following the fist / microwave interface I decided to just get on with it.

5.25 pm – The looters in London cunningly targeted the giant Sony warehouse for their looting. Sadly Stafford does not have anything to compare so i am currently staring menacingly at the window of PC World. The only unrest I appear to be causing is through occasionally getting in shoppers paths as they try to enter the store.  I apologise of course – manners maketh the man.

5.35 pm – Little if any support so far

5.40 pm – Realise that i have neglected to bring any items of clothing to cover my face and the CCTV cameras are legion on this retail park.

5.45 pm – After crudely fashioning a mask from my tie, I realise that I have been wearing  my ID badge the whole time. I’m beginning to think this is a lost cause.

6.00 pm – Am quite peckish as it’s been a while since lunch. Decide to go home, stopping en route to get a new microwave. And some flowers for the wife. Feeling  a little dejected that I couldn’t get anything started.

8.30 pm – Home and watching events unfold. In Manchester they have broken into the Arndale Centre and are having a crazy time. Similar scenes in Birmingham.  A little relieved that nothing did kick off here, I couldn’t handle the pressure of leading that kind of mob. I’m more of a follower than a leader.

10.30 pm – Mixed feelings as I go to bed. It’s nice to live in an elderly, middle class town, but I don’t have any new Ipod, Flip cameras or 46 inch plasma tv’s.

Next time perhaps.





* Chavs (courtesy of urbandictionary.com)

Picture this a young lad about 12 years of age and 4 ½ feet high baseball cap at ninety degrees in a imitation addidas tracksuit, with trouser legs tucked into his socks (of course, is definitely the height of fashion). This lad is strutting around, fag in one hand jewellery all over the over, outside McDonalds acting as if he is 8 foot tall and built like a rugby player, when some poor unsuspecting adult (about 17/18) walks round the corner wanting to go to mcdonalds for his dinner glances at the young lad, the young lad jumps up in complete disgust and says “Whats your problem? Wanna make sommin of it? Bling Bling” when the adult starts to walk towards the young lad, the young lad pisses himself and runs off to either his pregnant 14-year-old girlfriend or his brother in the army crying his eyes out.

My mate has become a chav what can i do? answer is shoot him before it is too late



** Scratters (courtesy of urbandictionary.com)

Miserable ignorant track-suit wearing trash exemplifying the shit-encrusted population of the British Isles. Abusive dole-scum. The reason today's elderly would rather starve away in their own homes than take a 50-yard trip down to the shops. See also scally and scut-dog.
Scratters will shortly be prevalent in the UK due to their spectacularly high teenage pregnancy rate combined with the abundance of cheaply-available KFC.


Why Jason Vorhees is the greatest – Comparing the Horror Movie Villains


Ah, slasher films from the 80’s.  Few things in life can compare to the simple joy of terrorising a group of teens, picking them off one by one in a variety of creative and novel ways. Unfortunately too much of this behaviour can lead to extended stays at her majesties pleasure if you are careless (they key to success is to leave non alive to talk). So thank goodness for the heroic souls who saw such cinematic greats as The Godfather, Patton and the Nutty Professor and decided that what the world needed was 90 minute chunks of ketchup splattered exploitation. For them, a strong storyline, intelligent writing and, you know, talent, were mere diversions on the path to churning out the most memorable movies of any era. 

But what do all these films have in common? Preposterous concepts? An abundance of barely legal boobs? buckets and buckets of red dyed corn syrup?  All of the above and one more key ingredient – a lead villain for the audience to rally around and cheer as he hacks and slashes through every under 20 year old in his kill-zone radius, but who was the best of them?  Everyone has their own opinion and for the most part they are wrong – the answer can only be one man, Jason Vorhees.

Here I present irrefutable evidence that Jason was head and shoulders above his rivals in the psychokiller stakes.  To demonstrate this, I have used the S.H.I.T.E system to compared him in five categories with his most commonly sited peers.  The categories are :

·         Single Mindedness

·         Humour

·         Inventiveness

·         Teen Killing Prowess

·         Eco-Awareness



Single Mindedness

Comparison:  Michael Myers

Michael Myers was undoubtedly focussed – he wanted Laurie dead, we aren’t totally sure why but dammit if he wasn’t persistent. Through seven movies he didn’t waiver from his goal, or did he?. Surely he must win this category?

No, he doesn’t – for a single minded killer he got sidetracked very easily.

Halloween:  Strong start as he kills his babysitter but for no apparent reason, then kills a dog but fails to murder his target, ultimately a failure. Maybe if he was less intent of slaughtering canines maybe?

Halloween 2:   Finds his target drifting in and out of consciousness in a hospital – like shooting fish in a barrel surely? No, he kills a few nurses and fails again in his only goal

Halloween 3:  Didn’t even show up for the movies, lazy M’Fer!

Halloween 4: Switches tack to kill his niece instead. Presumably a six year old is an easier target but of greater concern is Michaels drifting goals. He needed a life coach at this point.

Halloween 5:  More of the same failure to terminate his second target, I was surprised he didn’t shift down again to something even easier to kill, like a snail.

Halloween H20: Twenty years later! Still not managed to do what he set out to do – what has he been up to? Taking a pottery class, travelling around Europe, having a long nap? By this time he has changed priorities again and is back on Laurie Strode.  I’m beginning to think he might have ADD.

Halloween Resurrection: Finally achieves his goal and then drifts aimlessly killing random teens for no real reason. Perhaps he should have followed Oprah’s advice and created a vision-board.

To recap – thirty years of changing priorites and failure. Single minded, I think not, especially in comparison to Jason:

Friday 13th pt 1: Not in it but his memory and image are enough to safely despatch Kevin Bacon and his chums

Part 2:  Slaughters teens at Camp Crystal Lake because he didn’t want them there

Part 3:  Slaughters teens at Camp Crystal Lake because he didn’t want them there

Part 4: I think you are getting the idea

Part 5:  Took a well deserved break, had Roy stand in for him to, guess what? That’s right, Kill teens at Camp Crystal Lake

Part 6:   Back and refreshed. They try to change the name of the town but JV just keeps on trucking with his teen killing

Part 7:  There’s a lake, there’s teens, what more needs to be said?

Part 8:  A minor diversion as the last third of the movie takes place in New York but where did the teens come from? That’s right – Crystal Lake!

Part 9: Reduced to a role as a malevolent slug, he is still killing teens, you know where.

Part 10:  In space but not of his own doing. Most of the crew members aren’t teens so what can he do?  Given the choice he would be in the comfort of his own lake, slaughtering the under 20’s

Winner: The maniac in the hockey mask

Humour

Comparison:  Freddy Krueger

Freddie Kreuger – master of the one liner. Only Schwarzenegger got more laughs with fewer words prior to killing people. This must be a slam dunk loss for Jason, right? I mean, the V-Man never actually said a word.

Let me tell you who else never said a word in his greatest films – Charlie Chaplin. That’s right, and Buster Keaton. Mmm hmm.

Who speaks in movies? Adam Sandler, Dane Cook, Chris Rock.  It’s becoming clearer huh?

This can be decided with one simple question – did you ever laugh during a Friday 13th film?  Yes? And Jason was wearing a mask the whole time. Even Chaplin would be impressed with that.

Winner: The Big JV



Inventiveness

Comparison:  Jig Saw

The ingenuity of Jigsaws traps, the cruel irony with which he despatched his victims. Who, in the history of horror movies has shown more inventiveness?

I’ll tell you who – his name is Jason and he did a whole lot of clever stuff.

Who impresses you more – the team from NASA with a multi billion dollar budget who sent a man to the moon, but what since? Or the guys from Scrapheap Challenge who can build a fully functional tank / rocket launcher / bread maker from the stuff we throw away?

Contrast and compare – Jigsaw was clearly a rich man with enough real estate to hide a multitude of victims. An infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters, etc

Jason had a piece of shit shack and yet the creativity he employed to slaughter was remarkable. A harpoon gun, a knife, in one memorable case, he beat a camper to death – with another camper! Come on!!

Jigsaw evaded capture by having victims do his work, Jason had a mask, and even then he didn’t get that until part 3, he had to make do with a sack.

Who are you going to give the win to?

Winner: The resourceful chap with the machete.



Teen Killing Ability

Comparison:  Leatherface

Leatherface killed a lot of teens – that’s a fact and it is undisputable.

Jason killed more.  It’s simple maths baby, don’t try and overthink it.



Eco-Awareness

Comparison:   All of the above run. I have out of iconic killers. Yes Pinhead but he was in another dimension, Chucky – a doll? Seriously?  Norman Bates? Ugh, and don’t get me started on any of the post-modern nonsense from Scream and IKWYDLS.

Let’s keep it simple.

Within the realms of the true icons and their eco-friendly credentials because no matter how psychopathic you are, we all have to take care of mother earth.



Michael Myers:

Right there in the first movie, he drives a car all the way back to Haddonfield. This was the 70’s so he’s not getting great mileage out of that thing.  He then proceeds to traipse up and down the country chasing various relatives. He has set a precedent for using inefficient cars so he has racked up a huge carbon footprint.

Freddie Kreuger:

You think that boiler he operated was energy efficient?  Even if he was burning the corpses of children, you know he needed to bolster it with fossil fuels to keep the pipes from freezing. Shame on you.

Jigsaw:

The amount of power he must have used just keeping the lights on in all his traps??  And every message had to be on a tv – no writing stuff down for this guy.  Electricity isn’t free buddy!

Leatherface:

Petrol powered chainsaw – say no more

Jason:

Liven in a hut in the woods – totally organic. 

No killing tools required power.

When he went to Manhattan, he hitched a ride on a boat.

The one time he required electricity (to raise from the dead) he used a lightning bolt, not the grid

He actively and aggressively worked to keep the beautiful land around his humble home free from pollution, litter and sexy teens.  He may be the greatest eco warrior we have ever known, and yet he seeks no credit.  An inspiration.



So there it is, the S.H.I.T.E. system proves it – Jason is the greatest of all time. It’s just science folks.



Dr DR






Saturday, 13 August 2011

In Defence of Demolition - a respnse to the Old School Wrestling Podcast

If you don't listed to the Old School Wrestling Podcast (www.flairchop.com) you should be. It is one of the three finest podcasts available anywhere.

The two hosts, Dre and the Black Cat Jook (Duke) Williams are hilarious as they review old wrestling matches. You don't even need to know anything about wrestling to enjoy it.

However, some time ago, Dre spewed some hate filled bile about the greatest tage team of all time - Demolition.

I could not let this slight pass, so here for your reading pleasure is my response.



Was there some Crazy lodged in my ears?

Had I mistakenly downloaded and app that messes with audio files and twists the words of podcasts?

I was driving home from work when I heard it and had to pull over to the side of the motorway, partly out of shock and partly to rewind the podcast to see if I had heard correctly.

Yes, yes I had, the erstwhile Dre, a broadcaster I had held in some regard had, not to be melodramatic about it, blasphemed!  Not only did he say that he did not like Demolition – personal choice, however poor it may be, is not a crime, but he went on to proclaim that nobody could like Demolition.  What heresy was this??  I rewound again, straining to hear the sound of the cooling crack pipe in the background but alas, nothing.  I was left only with the conclusion that he was, gulp, being serious.

How I drove the rest of the way home I do not recall.  Mrs reckoning was alarmed at my pallid, ghostly appearance when I stumbled through the door of Reckoning Manor.  She brought me a large brandy to restore the balance of my vapours and I began to calm down, soon feeling confident that the massed ranks of OSWP listeners would rise up as one and shame Dre into a humbling apology.  Becalmed I awaited the next episode. 

Curiously, there was no mention on the next podcast, or the next, and so on. I was perplexed – were the bigwigs at OSWP Towers suppressing the emails from enraged listeners or were the audience too intimidated to stand up to their oppressors? Obviously the silence was not due to a lack of support for the mighty Ax and Smash -  such a notion is preposterous.



So allow me to be the lone voice prepared to come to the defence of the greatest tag team of all time .

To assist the rebuttal and to make it easier for Dre to understand following the head trauma he must have suffered, I have developed a system that compares Demolition in four categories and to make it even easier, I have compared them to the most prominent teams in each:

·         Championships

·         Ring Attire

·         Ability

·         Presence

And for good measure, let’s add three more:

·         People

·         Impact

·         Entertainment value

That right, I will prove beyond any doubt that no team was more C.R.A.P.P.I.E than the Demo’s

Championships

Comparison: Steiner Brothers

A simple one to start with.  The Steiners won championships in three major promotions: WCW, WWF and New Japan, which means that they lost titles in three major promotions as well.

Demolition only ever lost the titles in one promotion – the WWF.  Three to one in the loss column, basic maths wins this argument.

Winners: Demolition



Ring Attire

Comparison: Rock n Roll Express

Ricky and Robert had handkerchiefs and scarves everywhere?  That didn’t even look cool on Steven Tyler’s mic stand.

Demolition wore studded black leather. Ignoring the homoerotic overtones of that outfit. Which would you be more afraid of in a dark alley at night? (For whatever reason)

Winners:  Inappropriate S&M gear all the way



Ability

Comparison: British Bulldogs

The toughest one to call. There are many technically proficient teams to choose from but the Bulldogs probably did more for tag team wrestling innovation that anyone else. Well, Dynamite Kid did.

The Demo’s never invented a new move, rarely used anything beyond punches and slams and would have suffered nose bleeds and vertigo if either ventured above the second turnbuckle.

But Ax and Smash achieved so much more with so less. That has to count for something surely?  To win the titles so many times despite a repertoire of four and a half moves? They must have been insanely good at those moves?  It’s not about quantity, its quality that counts. The Rockers, for example, invented new moves every week but were seen as little more than jobbers. The Demo’s perfected their attack and never left the title scene.

Winners: The unhindered by talent, face-painted marvels

Presence

Comparison:  Powers of Pain

Some similarities – facepaint, cool outfits and Mr Fuji but who had the edge in the ring by sheer presence?



The PoP were huge, I mean ginormous. I a straight fight with a T-Rex, I’m not sure where my money goes.

Demolition were, to be honest, a bit chubby. No muscle definition due to no muscles.

So why did we give them a chance against creatures from the abyss like the PoP?

You get my drift

Winner: Middle aged men who look a bit like your uncle going to the Rocky Horror Show

People

Comparison:  Fabulous Freebirds

How many tag teams can legitimately claim to have three outstanding members? Not many, primarily because the rules only allow you to have two but the awesomeness of the Demo’s was such that they added a third member, and not only that he was pretty shit in comparison to the originals. So confident were they that their intimidation level was so high that no matter who they plugged in to the third spot, it would work. And it did, sort of.

Of the few teams who had three members – Iron Sheik, Sgt Slaughter and General Adnan, the Von Erichs (discounted because they had like five or six brother that were interchangeable depending on who had taken the fewest pills that night) and Dusty Rhodes and Sapphire (counts as three people surely), only one can hold a candle to Demolition – the Freebirds – and that candle is pretty dim my friend.

Lets compare the three:

Ax vs Michael Hayes

Ax had to retire from in ring duty due to a heart complaint, Hayes retired because he had drunk the Jack Daniels distillery dry and wouldn’t compete without at least a fifth inside him.

Today, Ax still soldiers on, hardcore style in gyms and shopping malls around the country. Ignoring medical advice he is still delivering ass kickings to all jobbers who come near him.

Hayes, knowing he could never live up to his reputation, changed his name and became a fat announcer.  For shame Michael Hayes!!

Winner: Ax



Smash vs Terry Gordy

Despite his legendary ability and even more legendary matches, what was the biggest criticism of Gordy – lack of personality.

 Smash, like an out of control schizophrenic,  went on to have multiple personalities – Repo Man, Blacktop Bully, one of the Doinks (probably)

No contest

Winner: Smash

Crush vs Buddy Roberts

It’s not fair to compare physical ability here, so let’s give Roberts a chance.

Roberts wore Confederate flag bandanas before they were cool

Crush wore tie dye and day glo gear long after it was cool

Winner (for sheer contempt of fashion trends): Crush

Overall Winner: The boys in black



Impact

Comparison: Road Warriors

The most common comparison for Ax and Smash.  There are those who claim that Vince McMahon, having tried unsuccessfully to sign Hawk and Animal, created Demolition as clones, but those are the ramblings of a lunatic and should be disregarded.

Instead, let’s go back in time to when I first saw Demolition. As a pre-adolescent boy, I was just discovering new and wonderful things about the world – Girls and the WWF. 

Knowing very little about either, I was keen to find out all I could. There was no internet so my access to both was sketchy.  I knew of the British bulldogs and when I was told they would be on TV that night, all the forces know to Satan could not have moved me from that TV.  But wait, what was this coming to the ring to the sounds of generic heavy metal. Two imposing characters in black leather, lead by an oriental dwarf?  This is most curious.  They have no features, no, wait, they are in masks!! This gets better!  Then, once in the ring, the unmasked and what did we see? Facepaint!! The world may as well have ended there because humanity had reached its peak. To hell with the Bulldogs, young DR had new heroes.

Contrast and compare with the impact of the Road Warriors.

Having watched WWF for a year or so, the TV channel that carried the shows lost the contract and scrambled to find a replacement.  What did we see? The NWA? Aren’t they a rap group?  First on were the Powers of Pain – aren’t they? They look like the PoP but haven’t got anywhere near the muscle size or definition, and does the lighter skinned one have a bald patch?  Are they the PoP’s dads?  No, this won’t do, this won’t do at all.  “Mother, I demand you subscribe to satellite TV immediately” I cried in anguish,” I cannot abide these third rate imposters for a moment longer”.

Who had the greater impact?

Winners: Like the Godfather 2, the rare sequel that outdoes the originals



Entertainment Value

Comparison: Bushwhackers

The Bushwhackers licked each other faces and the faces of small children in the crowd.  By today’s standards that’s not entertainment it’s the precursor, to a restraining order and would ensure that Luke and Butch would have to introduce themselves to their neighbours whenever they moved house.

Ax and Smash as far as I can recall, never licked anyone before, during or after any matches.  So insistent were they that licking was not part of their entrance, the work face masks that prevented an inappropriate tongue action whatsoever.

The Aussie buffoons marched to the ring waving their arms in a way that could cause serious injury to the crowd, and as Mama Reckoning used to say “it’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt”.

The Demo’s ambled to the ring like they had just finished a ten hour shift at the mill. Nobody was at risk of having a random elbow break their nose during their introduction!

I could go on but the winners are clear: The elderly gentlemen with silver paint on their faces

So, it has taken a lengthy email but you can clearly see that Demolition were far and away the greatest tag team that ever was. Don’t just take my word for it – Science proves it. When you think of Demolition, you think C.R.A.P.P.I.E.

I look forward to Dre’s apology.



Your Humble Servant,



Dead Reckoning (Dr)