Live Time Machine Blog: the 1997 WWF Royal Rumble

Yeah, that's right. I said "WWF Royal Rumble" and not "WWE Royal Rumble". Here at nyiforlife.com, we are not afraid of no bamboo-eating pandas. WWF!

So, the 1997 WWF Royal Rumble. What does it say to me? Well, I think that this event in particular was the second event in the series of events where the star of Stone Cold Steve Austin was made. The character was just starting to really get over and Steve himself was beginning to get the character psychology down. Overall, a satisfying event to revisit.

I know I just wrote "satisfying event" phrase and that alone should surprise you when I tell you who the first two entrants in the Rumble were: Crush and Ahmed Johnson. The two were arguing over whether or not Ahmed should join the Nation of Domination. That seems even more stupid when I type it, but it was true. No truth to the rumor that Alicia Keys was influenced by Crush's hairstyle either. He just looked stupid and, by the way, had a tattoo on his forehead because they were playing up his real-life prison record. Seriously.

So we start out with those two and already you're tempted to take a pee break. Don't leave your chair or you'll miss the fake Razor Ramon, who came out at number three and lasts an entire seventeen seconds before Johnson tosses him out. That wasn't even really long enough to see if he had the Razor mannerisms down or not.

Phinneas Godwinn is number 4. He throws out Crush. At number five, we have Steve Austin. I really like his chances.

Once Stone Cold clears the ring of Jake the Snake, Austin is all alone in the ring. Hilariously, he props himself on the turnbuckles and looks at his pretend wristwatch. Vince McMahon, doing the announcing, really tries to make SCSA a heel but I can tell you that back in the day, me and a friend were laughing our backsides off at Austin's antics. He was just so out of the box for the time. Unless you're a long-time fan, you just won't get it.

Here comes The British Bulldog! Good Ol' JR says that bidness is gonna pick up! He and Ahmed must have had some kind of weird contest over who could be the bigger red flag. The Bulldog should have changed his name to Sunoco because he was full of the gas. Davey Roid goes right after Stone Cold because that is what he was supposed to do and we have some more Royal Rumble action that is hard to describe.

Next in is AAA wrestler Pierroth. Vince doesn't know who he is and I can tell you that at the time, I didn't either. Hell, it's eleven years later and I still don't give a rat's ass. He's the dude in the yellow and black but he doesn't look like a bee. Jim Ross tries to get him over with actual Lucha Libre credentials but I still don't care. Say 'ello to da Bee Guy!

Speaking of not caring, The Sultan follows him at 10. At 11 is the legendary Mil Máscaras. Now, him, I know. And he must have been in his fifties then and let me say that for a guy that old, he was still sort of active in the ring. Of course, true to his rep, he is going to end up eliminating himself with a suicide dive onto another Lucha dude on the floor because he never wanted to do a job.

Number 12 is Hunter Hearst Helmsley. Ugh. It is funny how a grudge you have in present day can carry over into the way-back machine as well. 13 is Owen Hart and he will eventually dump his brother-in-law and tag team partner, Davey Roid, so they'll tease a bit of dissention there...and it hits me that both guys are dead. Not good.

Check out this Lazy Man recap: 14 Goldust...15 Cibernético (he gets dumped by Mascaras) and 16 Marc Mero (he gets dumped by Sable)...17 Latin Lover (gets dumped by 18 Faarooq; who dumps himself when Ahmed makes like Jim Duggan and chases him with the largest 2X4 in wrestling history)...and suddenly, the ring is empty again. Never forget the hustle.

Savio Vega runs in and gets paid a full night of work for about 30 seconds. Stone Cold is alone again, naturally. Vince and JR try to put over the "classic" and "epic" strap match the two previously had and I can tell you that after seeing it on the new Legacy of Stone Cold DVD set that the match was kinda "enh" even though they were going at it pretty good. Nothing to get excited about.

"Double J" Jesse James is in and he gets to do a few Elvis moves before The former Road Dogg is sent packing. This was right after Jeff Jarrett had done that singing gimmick where it was exposed that the Road Dogg was the actual man behind the curtain. Weak gimmick at the time and Vince was clearly in Vindictive Mode after losing the real Razor and Diesel and Jeff Jarrett to WCW. Weak weak weak.

So, you know, Austin is again all by himself sitting on the top turnbuckle, selling a little bit of tired this time. Suddenly--as if this was the plan all along--Bret Hart's music hits and the arena comes alive. The crowd in the arena is a lot like the viewer would be at home...you know...waiting for something cool to happen. Aside from Stone Cold, so far this Rumble has been fairly average and really displayed that the WWF was at a low ebb as far as having real main event talent that people cared about.

Bret and Steve are going at it fists and fire! The crowd is clearly behind Bret and solidly against Austin in this one. Funny how sometimes you forget that it did actually take a while for Stone Cold to move up the card. Back then, he was hot but not bigger-than-Hogan hot.

Another comedy spot. Jerry Lawler leaves the announcing table to enter the Rumble. After 4 seconds--yes, four seconds--The King is dumped by Bret and he will spend the rest of the show pretending that he had never entered the Rumble at all. Jim Ross will try at times to get The King to quit being delusional, but Jerry keeps up the hustle. It's not as funny as it sounds..

Big Fake Diesel, come on down! That's right, former evil dentist and future Undertaker brother Glenn "Ron Paul in '08" Jacobs makes it to the big time. Diesel is given a good amount of work, too, and even gets a mention for effort later in the broadcast. Bret will dump him near the end.

Anyhoo, next out is Terry Funk. It's always great to see The Hardcore Legend. I think I may be the only person who liked it when he wore the stocking on his head and pretended to be Chainsaw Charlie later in the year. He and his protégé, Mankind Foley, figure into the finish...which I will jump ahead to now.

OK, so Mankind dumps Terry Funk and eventually, once the Undertaker (#30) dumps Mankind Foley, Mick and the Funker are fighting outside the ring. This brawl prompts both refs on the floor to take their eyes off the action in the ring. Wouldn't you know it, Bret Hart tosses out Stone Cold and he hits the floor. Of course, like I said, the refs don't see it and as Vince says, "If the refs don't see it, it didn't happen!" Steve climbs back in the ring and in short order, he dumps Vader and the Undertaker and ultimately, Bret Hart. Stone Cold is deemed the winner of the 1997 Royal Rumble while the referees were distracted on the other side of the ring. Pretty simple but very good booking, I'd say.

This Travesty of Injustice (TM) causes Bret Hart to totally lose it. He goes mental and get pissed and starts yelling at Vince and screaming at the referees--you know, the standard reaction. Refs screwed Bret. Stone Cold's music is playing and Bret is essentially acting like a kid who is like four years old.

Live Blog Time Machine: Clash of the Champions 1988

Welcome to another trip into the nyiforlife time machine. Today's live blog is of the very first Clash of the Champions special on TBS by Jim Crockett Promotions from March 27, 1988.

If you don't know, here is some quick history: Vince created the Royal Rumble for the USA Network to compete up against the NWA's first foray into pay-per-view, the Bunkhouse Stampede, in January of 1988. Ted Turner and Jim Crockett then created this special, called Clash of the Champions, as a free-TV alternative to Wrestlemania IV. While universally hailed as a better show, the Clash caused some very real heat between the cable companies and Turner Broadcasting who thought that the free wrestling negatively impacted the PPV offering from the WWF. It probably did.

Now, thanks to the WWE 24/7, we have a special 20th anniversary package for the first Clash of the Champions. Interviews with WWE employees who were then part of Jim Crockett Promotions are interspersed throughout the show to offer perspective on the original event. I'm not going to comment much on that stuff because a lot of it is dumbed-down company-speak. Let's go to the videotape!

Our first match pits Jimmy Garvin against the NWA TV Champion, Mike Rotunda. Rotunda is managed by the Gamesmaster Kevin Sullivan and the match is under the one-count rule for victory because Rotunda is doing the Varsity Club gimmick. I just thought the Varsity Club was a great gimmick for colorless guys like Rotunda, Dr. Death, and Rick Steiner at the time. Why the evil devil-worshipping Kevin Sullivan had to act as their coach was beyond me at the time and comes off as a little ridiculous in the rear view mirror. Sullivan was sort of feuding with Jimmy Garvin over Garvin's wife, Precious, and this match was more of a backdrop for that feud. Rotunda wins and keeps the title after rolling up Garvin for a one-count while Garvin was jawing with Sullivan. This leads to the beat-down of Garvin afterward when Steiner comes in. Precious ends up making the save and choking Sullivan with a coat-hanger. Yes, a wire hanger. Not sure how that got in there. TBS complained about Funk using a plastic bag on Flair a year later but let this coat hanger thing go out over the air? Weird.

Next up we have a US Tag Title match with the Fantastics trying to dethrone the Midnight Express.

Everyone who knows me knows that I love the whole MX & Jim Cornette thing. And I wasn't alone. There's ten dudes in the front row dressed up like Cornette's bodyguard, Big Bubba Rogers. (Wear a suit to the show...put on sunglasses, you're Big Bubba. Take them off, hold up four fingers, and you're custom-made like Ric Flair. Genius!)

We need to acknowledge referee Randy Anderson's poofy mullet before we start. Pee Wee really had a ledge of hair. He may be my new Hair Hero!

Great match between two great teams who could go. The finish came on a typical Dusty-booked horsebleeping fake-out where Bobby Fulton originally had pinned Bobby Eaton to win the titles but the decision was reversed because Fulton had thrown referee Randy Anderson over the top rope before the pinfall was made. Got that? Afterward, The Midnights beat down the Fantastics and they whipped Bobby Fulton with Jim Cornette's belt. There was no way to watch this and not think of David Crockett excitedly screaming, "Whip 'im! Whip 'im like a dog!" as he did two years before when Ricky Morton was using a belt on Cornette and the Midnights.

Next we have an interview with Doctor Death Steve Williams. Doc is rocking one serious mullet. Actually, I am thinking the mullet is rocking Doc at this point. Interviews were not Doc's strong point and whoo, this one is super-bad. He wasn't in the Varsity Club yet and he totally needed someone to talk for him. He might have been a real-life ass-kicker, but unless he was paid by the "Lemme tell ya somethin's", Doc was not doing himself any favors. Really, really, really bad. Not bad in a good, "Shockmaster"-kind of way, either. Just horrid.

Goldberg Prototype Nikita Koloff is next. This was after his conversion to good guy, man with hair, and person who wanted to help kids. Hurt career, help kids. Not a fair trade in the pocketbook, I bet. Next.

In a very tame barbed wire match by ECW/Attitude standards, the LOD and Dusty beat The Powers of Pain and Ivan Koloff. This was a very heated return match off an angle where the Warlord and the Barbarian "broke" Animal's eye socket in a melee after a bench pressing contest. Therefore, it makes perfect sense that Animal is wearing a mask straight out of the Jerry Cheevers' School of Goaltending.

(Side note: man, those dudes were super-juiced. If Warlord were wrestling now, his gimmick would have to be called Red Flag. Hawk would have to be called Bullseye and the Barbarian might have had to go by People's Exhibit A. Seriously, these guys had more juice in them than a convoy of trucks pulling Florida oranges.)

Dusty bleeds (big surprise) and the whole match is less than four minutes long. Warlord was pinned after being accidentally hit with a diving headbutt from the Barbarian. I had to sit through Doctor Death choke through his interview with six cough drops in his mouth for these four freaking minutes? Add in the post-match beatdown where the heels try to get their heat back by ripping the Cheevers off of Animal, it's like seven minutes of work. Not really great work, either.

We have a segue with the latter-day Barry Windham. Wow, he looks to be in better shape than he did on the Horsemen DVD. Windham is teaming up with Lex Luger in the next match and in a shock of all shocks, he says nice things about Lex here. Rips him a new one on the DVD (he wasn't the only one) but here Barry gives him the glad-hand today. Must be because Lex is physically in a bad place right now or something.

So we have Arn and Tully facing Barry and Lex for the NWA World Tag Team Championship. The faces go over here in under ten minutes...but there was a bigger picture in this match. See, in a few weeks, Barry was going to tag with Lex and suddenly get all alligator-armed when Lex needed a tag. Then Luger would catch more beatdowns. Barry was on his way to becoming...a Horseman! They used to actually do angles to make money back in the day. Luger was thought to be the next big thing and as a face, he needed a dastardly turn from someone he had trusted to get him over even more. This was the beginning of the turn. I pray that WWE 24/7 plays that match where Barry turned his back and flashed the four fingers and devilish grin after deserting his partner. It was a great angle.

The capper of the night sees NWA World Heavyweight Champion Ric Flair fight Sting to a time-limit draw in 45 minutes. Yes, this is the famous match that "made" Sting a star and it still holds up to multiple viewing even today. (It's on the Ric Flair DVD set, too.)

Let's face it, if you're my age and you were formally a big wrestling fan, this is one of "those" matches that you never forget. For instance, I remember at the time thinking that Sting was looking much better than I had ever seen him, even though I liked the gimmick. Of course, Ric Flair was Ric Flair. Everyone looked good in the ring with Flair--even Luger!

For whatever reason, the extended bit with the judges ("There MUST be a winner!") made me upset more than the clipped part on the Flair DVD set. People have been wondering for years just how a judge could actually think the match was a draw and not choose a winner? Well, Sandy Scott, what the hell? I mean, we all know that Dusty booked Flair in as weak a manner as he could at times (all the time) but this one made me angry twenty years after the fact. The Pet picks Flair and Gary Juster picks Sting and Sandy freaking Scott picks draw.

Yes, I know it's all a work. Thanks for asking. I also know that Sandy Scott becomes the booker after Dusty gets fired and is going to be the guy who brings Ricky Steamboat in the next year for those great matches with the Nature Boy. Still, it pished me off in retrospect to see a masterpiece ruined by some dork in a ten dollar Wal-Mart sports coat sitting at ringside. I'm still talking to you, Sandy Scott!

Overall, I really enjoyed the show. Sure, there was some bad booking in spots and some of it was head-scratching (Nikita Koloff and Eddie Haskell) but overall, a pretty fun look back. You had the perfect storm of unintended hilarity (Pee Wee Anderson's mullet and Doctor Death's freaky rant); great action (Midnights vs. Fantastics); a star turn for Sting; and every match on the card had an issue at stake that lead to all of the matches being interesting. Plus, you had Ric Flair. Not too shabby. I really miss the NWA.

Lastly, let me end this with some more Flair news. Although it is just a rumor at the time I write this, it has been proposed that Ric Flair will face Shawn Michaels at Wrestlemania in the Nature Boy's final match. To me, there is no one better to put him in there with. Michaels grew up idolizing Flair and he knows how important Flair is to the history of wrestling. HBK and Flair always want to put on a show to begin with and in such a big spot, both guys are going to want to ride it out for as much and for as long as they can. I hope it happens. Flair should be retired by a genuine star--someone who can make him look as good as he made countless others while NWA champ--not someone who may or may not be on the rise.

Retro Live Blog: 1988 Royal Rumble

We got us a new feature on the site for you all on this All-Star weekend. WWE 24/7 recently replayed the 1988 Royal Rumble. While I remember watching it on the USA Network back in the day, I decided to give it another shot and add some perspective from twenty years later. That's right: here on nyiforlife.com we do own a time machine. Don't tell anyone!

So, like I said, the first televised "Royal Rumble" was in 1988 and it was originally called the "Rumble Royale". Seems like every time Vince or Jesse would have said "Rumble Royale" that the WWE switcho-chango machine has dubbed in the more correct "Royal Rumble". Just another way Vince is re-making history one event at a time!

First off, we have a match featuring Ravishing Rick Rude (RIP) and Ricky Steamboat. Now remember, this is January of 1988 and Steamboat had lost his Intercontinental belt to the Honky Tonk Man in the summer so that he could take some time off for the birth of his kid. I mention that to say this: I'm fairly sure this is one of his last WWF matches before he left the company and the business until reappearing on TBS in January of 1989 as Eddie Gilbert's mystery partner to start the series of legendary matches with Ric Flair.

Anyhoo, not a great match by any stretch here. It's actually worse that you'd think it should be. Finish comes when Rude pulls the referee in front of him while Steamboat jumps off the top rope. Twenty minutes of stalling and they just don't (didn't?) click. Official match rating: Enh.

The rest of the night apart from the Rumble was just filler stuff. Jumping Bomb Angels bleech and Jimmy Hart bleech. Hogan shilling for the match with Andre "coming up" on NBC (the brilliant twin referee angle) and Hogan always makes me sick. They're doing the contract signing gimmick and Andre turns the table over on Hogan while Ted DiBiase cackles his rich boy ass off; that sort of thing. One thing that jumps out is that Ted was really, really good as the Million Dollar Man. He was better than I remembered here and I always thought he was pretty good to begin with. Angle rating: Lame.

High comedy comes when the freakishly-pushed hack known as Dino Bravo is going to try to break what was called the world bench press record of over 700 pounds. Seriously, I can't do this justice. It is on a high hill of high comedy in wrestling. Suffice to say there's a lot of stalling and Jimmy Hart hyperactive silliness and that Bravo--who at this point looked like a jacked-up oversized baby rhino with a bad dye job--"beats" the record with a little help from segment host Jesse Ventura. After the record-setting lift, the angle did wonders for Dino Bravo. I made me care even less for him as a performer 20 years later. Actually, it made me recall that back in the day I was wondering about the NWA Bunkhouse Stampede show that was taking place at the Coliseum that night because the segment was just boring me to tears at the time. Angle rating: Ach! Unintended comedy rating: 4 out of ten.

So there was also another tag match on the show. The first one was that JBA crap that no one cared about and the other 2-out-of-3-falls match was Bobby Heenan's Islanders (as opposed to Terry Simpson's Islanders) beating the Young Stallions in 2 straight falls. This match actually was interrupted for an interview by Andre and DiBiase to hype the NBC match. Again, Ted was maniacal and Andre talked like he had a head full of phlegm and about eleven Tootsie Rolls in his yap. Seriously. He sounds like he could hock up something about the size of Lord Littlebrook. Yikes. No one ever confused Andre with Arn Anderson in regards to promo ability but this was not good in any way. Andre's teeth are a particular shade of manila folder here as well. Probably hard to see a dentist when you can't fit in the waiting room chairs. I give myself a three-star rating for using Lord Littlebrook in that joke because I think he's funnier than Little Beaver.

That brings us to the Rumble itself, always one of my favorite gimmick matches. You know the rules so I'll just get to the recap:

We start out with Bret Hart and "Strike Force member" Tito Santana in the ring. They picked numbers one and two and go at it pretty good until The Natural Butch Reed comes in at number 3. I had pretty much forgotten about Reed. Funny thing here is that in the age of faces vs. heels, Reed doesn't know who to go after here at first. McMahon thinks that Bret is at a distinct advantage but Reed seems a little confused. Eventually they team up on the man Ventura called Chico until Reed is dumped by Jake Roberts (#4) after about three minutes of work. Nice seeing you, Butch.

Talk about distinct advantages--here comes human fire plug Jim Neidhart at four! Between he and The Snake, that's a lotta crack! King Harley Race is next. Race is rocking a mushroom cloud honky 'fro and I don't care how much they try to put him over, Harley never struck me as a "WWF wrestler" even though they tried to push him as one at the time. Yes, we all know Harley Race and the stories of what a bad ass he was/is but back then, he just looked like some old dude with a distended belly and one hell of a weird hairstyle who seemed to wrestle in slow motion. Other than that, he rocked!

Speaking of rocked, check out this Murderer's Row: Jim Brunzell; Sam Houston; Former referee Danny Davis; and Boris Zhukov, the man who had such a big head that I am surprised that there weren't ten or twenty people holding ropes underneath him on Thanksgiving mornings. Seriously, this guy could not buy hats off the rack. I know that sounds like a line from Gorilla Monsoon--and it may be--but his head is really, really huge. I'm surprised he could balance a VW Bug on his shoulders like that!

At eleven we have The Rock, Don Muraco. He looks like he has spent a fortnight saying his prayers and eating his vitamins. Muraco has those freaky veins on his shoulders that I simply do not have and never will even pretend to have had at one time in my life. Behind him is #12, Nikolai Volkoff. The Russian obviously jumped his cue by coming out with Muraco and the night's best comedy comes when the refs on the floor have to pretend to hold back this angry competitor who wants to get in the ring. At least they didn't send him back to the dressing room to come out again in a minute or two later. The refs are grinning and Volkoff is obviously laughing as he pantomimes joining the Rumble before his time. McMahon and Jesse are trying to get over that Volkoff is just such a game competitor even though everyone on the floor is obviously joking around.

Jim Duggan is next at thirteen. I like his chances tonight.

Ventura puts over Bret Hart about fifty times for lasting as long as he has to this point. I think The Body may have owed Bret some money that week because he is laying it on pretty thick. Yes, Bret does last quite a while until he gets dumped by Muraco, who also tosses Harley Race and the man at number 14, Outlaw Ron Bass. Not a bad showing for a man who was Magnificent no more.

Another streak of top competitors here: B. Brian Blair; Hillbilly Jim; and Dino Bravo. All three are going to meet their fates at the hands of #19, the One Man Gang. I like the Gang's chances tonight too. I think he may make it to the end!

Number 18 is The Ultimate Warrior. He's gonna last about 4 minutes before Bravo and the Gang team up to kick him out. A year or so from now, both guys will be bumping around for The Warrior like ping pong balls but in January of 1988, we haven't been bored and confused by Jim Hellwig too much yet. No snorts. No inane interviews. No day-glo tassels around the arms. Just a few minutes of tepid work and little juice ('juice' meaning excitement) for the former Dingo Warrior.

JYD is at twenty. No truth to the rumor that he snacked on arena hotdogs while training to run this gauntlet. He'd really let himself go at this point. The only shape The Dog was in was "round". Still, at the time, I thought hed be the winner of this Rumble because he didn't look like he was going to be able to bump over the top rope without having a heart attack. And yes, I know I skipped a lot of alleged action from the match. The Rumble is just too hard to give a real good running tally as you watch it so I just go for cheap jokes. You're welcome.

Anyhoo, we come down to the last two guys: Hacksaw Duggan and the One Man Gang. I always liked the OMG. The gimmick was a winner to me because once you get a skull and crossbones tattooed on the side of your head, you've made a commitment to not wear a tie to work for the rest of your life. The Gang is a full year apart from being UWF champion for Bill Watts and a full year or so from "going back to his roots" to become Akeem the African Dream with the Reverend Slick. Again, if you have no idea what I am talking about, you may be lucky on the Akeem stuff. I was never sure if that was supposed to be funny or serious, that gimmick. It just was so wrong to do and yet, strangely hilarious at the time.

But back to the Rumble, the Gang was a house of fire! He eliminated Jake Roberts; Muraco; Blair; Hillbilly Jim; Dino Bravo; and the Warrior. The man totally earned his paycheck for less that ten minutes of work. Duggan eventually wins the match after ducking a charging One Man Gang. Gang's momentum sends him over the top rope and to the floor. I still hate Jim Duggan.

I find myself yawning again. I bet I did the same thing back in the day too. Never a big fan of Duggan's when he was in the WWF or WCW or the UWF-slash-Mid-South when Bill Watts would call him "Doogan" all the time. Another one that always looked like he was fighting underwater. Still, overall, the match was pretty cool at the time and Pat Patterson should always be proud of this baby. Now, much older and much more jaded, the first televised Royal Rumble show does not hold up for repeat viewing. There were no performances like Ric Flair's when he won the title at the Rumble in 1992 (after 2 straight years of Hogan winning the event) or the 1997 Steve Austin show where he was sitting on the turnbuckles looking at his imaginary watch after clearing the ring. But if you take the 1988 Royal Rumble as a jumping off point, you could see that the event would be a winner. It was different enough to be novel and yet simple enough to understand.

And now, because of me, you don't have to sit through it again. Just another service we have for you here at nyiforlife.com!

Book Review: Bret Hart

There have been other reviews of Bret Hart's book available online. I'm
sure you've read others by now, but I didn't feel like I could do a
proper job of a review without thinking about and revisiting parts of
the book before doing so myself.

BRET HART: MY REAL LIFE IN THE CARTOON WORLD OF WRESTLING is a
fascinating autobiography. In fact, I'd put it up there with Mick
Foley's HAVE A NICE DAY as the best, most-important books written by
professional wrestlers for entirely different reasons.

Foley's, much like Chris Jericho's A LION'S TALE, both read more like
conversations you'd have if you had a buddy who had been around the
world in a pretty high-profile, fast-lane line of work. While both are
heavy on the story-telling and candor, both Foley and Jericho take their
readers on a ride that has a big payoff at the end: Foley wins the WWF
World Title and Jericho begins and ends his book with his debut for
Vince McMahon. Bret Hart's book essentially breaks his life down into
three parts: -before wrestling, during wrestling and after
wrestling--with unprecedented insight and candor because Bret made a
series of tape recordings of himself and the events of his life as he
went along. Instead of the rear-view mirror, you're getting a
first-hand remembrance of the details that shaped Bret into one of the
greatest wrestlers of his generation.

The first part of sets up what life was like for Bret and his siblings
Growing Up Hart. There seems to be a lot of turmoil and craziness in
Calgary, which makes sense for a family in the wrestling business. At
first, I must admit that I found myself wanting to get to the "better
parts" of the book (the wrestling stuff) but in retrospect, the first
third of the book is important as Bret sets his readers up with
background and foreshadowing while explaining the events of his life as
a young man. It is here that we learn his motivation as he matures. We
learn about the famous Dungeon and the rivalries between siblings that
sure explain a lot of the things that happen after Owen Hart falls to
his death in Kansas City and how some of the Hart kids try to manipulate
their parents and Vince McMahon in the aftermath.

Again, this book is about Bret Hart, and one thing is true: Bret Hart
can be seen as the world's biggest mark for Bret Hart. While
refreshingly candid, it does come from his particular slant...and it
should, being that he wrote it. Still, the line he walked between Bret
Hart the person and The Hitman as a character is still blurred in his
mind. He has his convictions regarding his character and you know what?
We could use a little more of that in wrestling today. Too many of
today's guys are acting--and acting poorly--rather than the characters
being a facet of their own personalities.

Of course, everyone wants to know Bret's take on the events in Montreal
over ten years ago. I'll admit that even I wanted to skip right to that
part of the book to see what he had to say about the infamous screw-job
in the match with Shawn Michaels. The truth of the matter is that the
events as laid out by Bret are not all that much different than what we
could see in Paul Jay's Hitman documentary, WRESTLING WITH SHADOWS. And
while accounts differ regarding who knew what and when in HBK's book and
from other reports such as The Wrestling Observer and Pro Wrestling
Torch, Bret's story hasn't changed. Time has, it seems, allowed him to
come to grips with this ultimate betrayal that ignited other events that
essentially ruined his family, but Hart comes off as in a better place
and not quite as bitter as I expected him to be even this long after the
fact. Perhaps the death of so many of his peers and the stroke he
suffered have widened his focus.

The business of wrestling breeds liars and cheats and while Bret Hart
does gloss over some of the drug use and steroid abuse he may have
witnessed in his career, he is remarkably frank regarding his own usage.
He also cops to having used steroids in the book while he had
steadfastly lied on such shows as Larry King Live in the aftermath of
the Benoit murders this past summer.

Two drug stories from the book stand out to me. One is that in his
early days in the WWF, Bret Hart felt that he had to do drugs
(specifically, cocaine) with Roddy Piper and his partner, Jim Neidhart,
amongst others, to be accepted as one of the boys and not just as
another promoter's son. To me it says that the peer pressure of being
in the traveling circus has to be much, much worse that just the peer
pressure you feel in high school.

The other major "drug story" that is remarkable is the disclosure that
before Bret's big match with his brother-in-law Davey Boy Smith at
Wembley Stadium, the Bulldog had been in Florida for weeks smoking crack
with Neidhart. Davey Boy showed up panicky and jittery, scared of this
big performance in his home country because he's he been out of it for
over a month. And yet, almost heroically, Bret was able to coax an
all-time classic match out of his brother-in-law while dropping the
Intercontinental Title to Smith at Summerslam in 1992.

Overall, like I said, this is an important book for wrestling fans to
read. Bret presents the business in what seems to be it's most real
light; complete with character flaws and all. He dishes on who he likes
and who he has little regard for and as he says in the opening, Bret
pulls no punches. He rips on HBK, Triple H, and Ric Flair. Oddly, the
one guy I thought he'd have venom for was Bill Goldberg, the man who
kicked him the head so hard that it pretty much ended The Hitman's
career. And yet, Hart doesn't complain about the stiff kick much at
all. He's more upset at what he perceived to be liberties taken by
Michaels at Wrestlemania 12 than he is receiving a severe concussion
that may have even caused a stroke later on in his life.

I'm not sure when BRET HART: MY REAL LIFE IN THE CARTOON WORLD OF
WRESTLING is going to be released in America but you can order it just
as I did through amazon.ca. It's not a quick read, by any stretch, but
you'll be glad you made it though the book when you're finished. You
also might find yourself respecting The Excellence of Execution for his
journey and newly-won peace of mind as well.

Where was "Black Betty"?

Well, the Giants pooped in the punch bowl for sure yesterday and that
has me feeling prickly as a summer cactus. When I get fired up about
the inability of some of the higher-salaried people on the Giants
roster, I just try and relax and I remind myself that the Islanders are
9 and 4 so far this season. Yes!

This week begins a stretch where our boys are finally going to be
playing some games on the road...such as they are. I bet teams from the
Western Conference are jealous when they see stretches like this. The
Isles meet the Flyers tonight and the Penguins on Thursday. Then they
head to Jersey for the Devils on Saturday, the Rangers on Monday, and
the Canadiens on November 21. The day after Thanksgiving the Isles are
in Boston for a nooner and then host the Bruins the following night at
the Coliseum. Not a whole heck of a lot of traveling, for sure.

What can we say about the Devils game...other than the Games Ops peeps
didn't play "Black Betty"? I keed. No, it was another solid effort by
our boys in blue and orange. Somebody needs to call the fire department
because Miro Satan is on fire! Also, we need to keep Dancin' Stan
Hunter (love that nickname) in LI because his son Trent has been playing
very, very well since Dad came to visit. Billy Jaffe and Howie Rose
made the observation and I think it is true: we need to get Stan on the
road trip!

I especially liked the way our defensemen were heading to the net
Saturday night. Billy and Howie mentioned Andy Sutton's name many times
because Sutton was setting up shop right in front of Martin "Mr. 499"
Brodeur. Again, I keed. I love Brodeur and I think he is the best
goalie I've seen since Roy (I know how to take a stand on the real
issues, eh?) but everyone knows that the best way to beat any goalie is
to keep the puck near his feet. Sure, he is awesome in the butterfly
but packing the crease and playing it to his feet is the way to slide
'em past him. Of course, I say that and recognize that Miro's GWG was a
quick slam on a goal mouth pass from Trent Hunter that Brodeur had no
chance of stopping--especially because it was on a 5-on-3 PP advantage.
You know what I mean.

Over the weekend the Isles also welcomed back one Frederick Meyer IV as
well. Freddy had been with the Isles until getting cut when the team
needed to sign Bryan Berard. Of course, Berard has been out for a bit
and now ace in the hole Aaron Johnson is out for 6-8 weeks with a knee
injury so the backline is looking a bit depleted. Hey, the great thing
is that Meyer comes in fully aware of the systems and style of play so
he should be ready to go as soon as tonight against the Flyers.

Bill Guerin took a puck to the face against the Devils and although he
came back to play because he is a hockey player and that's what you do,
The Captain ended up missing the third period with the injury. Looked
to get him on the eyebrow area and he is reported to be re-examined
today before the Flyer game. I have a sneaking suspicion that if the
swelling is down and there's no damage to the eye itself that The
Captain will be in the lineup tonight.

Radek Martinek also was rocking a cut over his eye that needed a few
stitches the other night. He came back to play and was his usual steady
self. He reminds me a lot of Kenny Morrow in so many ways. I know that
is saying a lot but both guys were steady and played against the top
offensive players all the time without making any mistakes. Radek and
Brendan Witt compliment each other so well. You get the sense of
stability that Kenny Jonsson and Adrian Aucoin used to give us.

Lastly, I don't want to start an Oprah book club or anything, but people
have been asking me about the new books written by Bret Hart and Chris
Jericho. I've read both and I can tell you that each one is definitely
worth checking out. Jericho's book flows along like a buddy telling you
stories and when you're done, I think you can't help but like the guy
more and more. Bret's book is just like he seems to be: rather tortured
at times and serious. The guy has been through a lot and let's face
it--he's been on the doorstep of a lot of history. When he wasn't
knocking on the door of history, he was directly in the middle of
controversy. If you're looking for massive insight and disclosure about
Montreal 1997, there's not a lot new here. But if you want to learn
about the real Hart family and a lot about the early WWF, this is a good
one to read.

So there you go. Five stars for each book. Five stars for entirely
different reasons.

Chris Benoit

I said that I wasn't going to write today. I just didn't think I could put into words how I felt about the passing of Chris Benoit.

I've written before about how much I used to enjoy the old school wrestling. While not a fan of the newer product, last night I flipped by USA expecting to see the stupid angle that I have been hearing about--who blew up Mr. McMahon--only to see a picture of Chris Benoit on the screen with the dates 1967-2007 under his name. I was instantly speechless. I think I said something along the lines like "He's effing DEAD?" to my wife and then the next few minutes were a blur as I stared at the TV.

The show began with Vince McMahon in the ring in an empty arena. Shaken, he calmly told us that Chris; his wife Nancy; and son Daniel were found dead earlier that afternoon in their suburban Atlanta home. And then, the RAW show became the a Chris Benoit tribute show. I watched a couple of hours of the show and I was still shocked when I tried to go to sleep. At the time, there was not a lot of news about the situation on the internet so the mind was free to race around and try to draw any logical conclusion except for the one that ended up being true: that he had done it. I remember fighting that speculative urge in my own head because I just didn't want it to be the way it all went down. I figured if anything it may have been a Phil Hartman-type of deal; anything but pointing the finger at a professional that I had respected for years. Think about that a minute. Best case scenario was that a guy was murdered by his wife. I felt terrible for even considering it.

We all know that death is inevitable. The negative amongst us would mention that for every day we are alive, we are one day closer to death. Suicide and murder can be prevented. Now I am not here wagging a finger at the WWE or other wrestlers or even the wrestling lifestyle at all. If you ask anyone in wrestling, to truly succeed in the industry, you have to love the business and the constant travel for your ten minutes a night under the hot arena lights. Some people are built for it and tick a little differently that the rest of us. Myself, I could never do it. I hate to travel and I am a homebody. If you're in the WWE, with the constant time and travel demands, it is near-impossible to have what would pass as a normal life in regular society. The pressure is insane. There is always someone behind you trying to take your spot and livelihood. You need to maintain your training and your tanning and stay fit. Many wrestlers turn to a bottle or two to help them keep their physiques and to deal with the stress. I'm not advocating a shortcut in any way; I'm just saying it out loud. Having ten thousand fans scream for you has to be an incredible rush and difficult to deal with when you leave the arena and end up in a crappy hotel room by yourself miles from your friends and family. That up-and-down night after night while you're getting pounded on and/or concussed while putting your own body on the line has to mess with your mind. The power to affect people positively combined with the endless road trips featuring crushing loneliness; dive hotels, poor sleep; and another trip to the airport is not a healthy way to live. I don't know how the heck they do it. I'm not saying these were mitigating factors in what happened to Chris Benoit and his family. I'm just saying that it couldn't have helped.

In professional wrestling, young men die. It's a proven fact. Many seem to die around the age of forty; which is how old Chris Benoit was at his passing. The names roll out of your head so easily that it's scary. Names like Curt Hennig; Rick Rude; Brian Pillman; Owen Hart; The Renegade; Eddie Guerrero; Louie Spicolli; Kerry Von Erich; Davey Boy Smith; Miss Elizabeth; Chris Candido; and the Junk Yard Dog. Wrestling fans have almost become numb to this fact (how scary is that?) and the mainstream press rarely delves into this phenomenon because, after all, "it's just wrestling" and golf is more interesting.

You know, whenever someone I knew would criticize professional wrestling or would ask me why I liked it, I could point to a guy like Chris Benoit with his obvious talent and intensity and tell them that he and Arn Anderson were the best wrestlers in allowing the audience to suspend their disbelief. Hulk Hogan and John Cena can't do it; but guys like Anderson and Benoit sure as hell could by commanding respect from the fans they entertained.

And now, in his death, Chris Benoit has done it again. The circumstances surrounding his death are just shocking and I don't want to believe it.