'Where the Big Boys Play!'
September 4, 1995
Live from the Mall of America in Minneapolis, Minnesota, the debut of WCW’s flagship programme certainly achieves its key aim of distinguishing itself from WWF’s Monday Night RAW. The sight of people hanging over balconies and peering down from escalators creates a unique sense of spectacle – a feel of something different than the hokey wrestling shows you could happen upon in any dilapidated bingo hall across ‘90s America.
Lead announcer Eric Bischoff kicks off proceedings by greeting the television audience and introducing us to babyface colour commentator Steve McMichael, who was apparently a very accomplished NFL goon in his day. ‘Mongo’, as McMichael is affectionately known, immediately demonstrates his willingness to embrace the spirit of sports entertainment by dressing up like Steven Seagal, but is cut-off during his maiden voyage into the waters of nonsensical rambling (something about digging ditches with farming tools) by none other than Bobby ‘The Brain’ Heenan.
Although he ended up phoning it in towards the end of his WCW run, Heenan still brought credibility and genuine wit to the broadcast team as its heel voice, and he even manages to shrug off Mongo’s bizarre use of an electric hand buzzer without creating an awkward scene when the two met here. The commentary dynamic is established as Bischoff tells Heenan to repeat the insults he supposedly levelled at Mongo the night before, only for The Brain to do a complete 180 and insist that he has nothing but the utmost respect for his new colleague in the booth.
Match One: ‘Flyin’’ Brian Pillman vs. Jushin ‘Thunder’ Liger
The action gets under way with a match between New Japan Pro Wrestling standout Jushin ‘Thunder’ Liger, and future loose cannon ‘Flyin’’ Brian Pillman. Pillman, we’re told, is just four weeks removed from a year-long absence due to a broken leg, but Heenan says he still expects to see him jumping off an escalator at some point. Liger appears to be paying homage to the Red Power Ranger with his outfit, and gets the high spots going early by hitting a surprisingly clumsy moonsault and cartwheel kick, followed by one of the worst hurricanrana sells you’ll see from anybody not named Kane or Big Show. Liger goes Daniel Bryan on Flyin’ Brian with a surfboard submission – he does it better than anybody else in the world, according to Bischoff – and then rolls nicely into a face lock.
Pillman takes a nasty spill over the top rope, and Liger follows him with a rolling senton off the apron, which Bischoff calls a kick to the head. Heenan attempts to cover for Liger’s sloppiness by pointing out that he’s been favouring an injured leg, and within seconds the Japanese is at it again, taking a suplex to the outside like a Saturday night drunk trying to sandbag a bouncer. Bischoff announces that WCW is where the best live, suggesting some sort of boarding arrangement, as Pillman goes up top and nails Liger with a cross body on the floor. There is a strange moment as Mongo tells Pillman to ‘give it to him how he wants it’, but Heenan makes the save by changing topic before any further exposition can take place.
Brian again tries to go flyin’, only for Liger to cut him off with a dangerously snapped superplex for a two count. Now it’s Thunder’s turn to take a risk, only for his attempted cross body from the top to be countered with a nice dropkick which gets two – Mongo reacts to this by asking how many more athletes Heenan will underestimate tonight, with the number currently standing at zero. The pendulum swings again as Liger hits a powerbomb which is only good for two, and follows it up with a beautifully executed hurricanrana from the top rope for another near fall. He sets up to go for it again, but this time Pillman is able to counter with a tornado DDT out of the corner and gets a two count of his own. However, Liger’s resilience appears to have reached its limit, as seconds later his attempted German suplex is reversed into a roll up by Pillman, who holds on for the 1-2-3.
Winner: ‘Flyin’’ Brian Pillman, via pinfall (roll up).
Pillman and Liger shake hands, much to the disgust of Heenan, and we get a mercifully short Surfer Sting promo before time-hopping back to earlier in the day, when Bischoff interviewed WCW World Champion Hulk Hogan at his new Pastamania restaurant, conveniently located at the Mall of America.
The first thing we notice about Hogan is that about 1/3 of him appears to be missing. He is a shadow of the man whose 24’’ pythons were the cornerstones of American pro wrestling throughout the 1980s and early ‘90s, having been forced to get off the juice in the wake of a steroid scandal which saw him testify in Federal court in exchange for immunity during the trial of his former employer, Vince McMahon. He does at least have the decency to address his altered physique, noting that despite an enormous intake of Hulk-A-Roos and Hulk-U’s, he’s slim and trim, and ready to force a Hulk-A-Roo down Big (Boss Man) Bubba’s throat after their match tonight. The threat turned out to be more prophetic than the Hulkster probably intended, as Pastamania would run wild for less than a year before going bust – suggesting that the only patrons of this ill-fated franchise were the ones Hogan dragged there himself.
Match Two: United States Title: Sting (champion) vs. ‘The Nature Boy’ Ric Flair
In-ring action resumes with a US title match between two men who are, as Mongo so eloquently puts it, ‘the purest in the world, with their wrestling moves.’ We get our first dig at Monday Night RAW, as McMichael adds, ‘if you’re not watching this, you may as be watching-’ only for Bischoff to cut him off before he can mention the competition by name. Heenan asks if they’re talking about the Weather Channel.
Flair is out first, followed by defending champion Sting, who is wearing a ludicrous Sgt Pepper/Saturday Night Fever-inspired ensemble that even Chris Jericho would think tacky. The bell rings, but before we can get underway Lex Luger makes a very surprising return to WCW, having wrestled on a WWF house show the previous night. There is an awkward moment as Luger and Sting lock eyes, and the former Narcissist attempts to telepathically ask his friend why he told him tonight’s dress code was Wuthering Heights. Bischoff calls for security to have Luger removed from the building, but Heenan points out that they’re in a public mall.
Realising that a run-in doesn’t really work unless the match has actually started, Luger retreats back to the Lex Express, prompting further debate amongst the commentary team about his intentions. Sting displays impressive strength and athleticism early with back to back leapfrogs and a pair of military press slams, followed by a nicely executed drop kick which sends Flair rolling out onto the floor for a breather. Naitch regroups and catches Sting with a thumb to the eye, allowing him to seize the upper hand and unload with chops in the corner. Sting decides to stop selling Flair’s offence, and backs him up with a series of aggressive poses before hitting yet another press slam. They spill out of the ring momentarily, but Sting manages to press Flair all the way back inside, where they go back and forth until the classic Flair bump off the top rope, which leads to – you guessed it – another press slam and our first near fall.
Just as the gang manages to get over Luger’s impromptu appearance, we’re treated to another run-in when Arn Anderson, resplendent in his mid-‘90s track and field finery, makes his way down to ringside. Heenan has it on good authority that Anderson and Flair have patched things up, as the challenger briefly regains control of the match by capitalising on a missed top rope splash and nailing the champ with a signature delayed vertical suplex. However, Sting resolves to shut up shop again, immediately rises to his feet and clocks a stylin’ and profilin’ Flair with two clotheslines. Flair attempts to beg Sting off in the corner, but is whipped up and over on the opposite side, and then taken off his feet with another hard lariat out on the apron.
Flair continues to bump all over the place, before eventually fighting his way out of a superplex spot and trading near falls on the mat. Sting again puts Flair up top for a superplex and finally hits it, causing the dirtiest player in the game to writhe around as though he’s being electrocuted. The subject of Luger’s current whereabouts is again brought up, and Mongo suggests that he’s probably gone for a bite to eat at Pastamania. For some reason Sting then decide to focus his attention on the stoic Anderson, allowing Flair to hit a chop block from behind and slap on the Figure Four Leglock. It initially appears as though Sting is going to no-sell this as well, but after a few seconds of mean mugging and beating his chest, he suddenly acknowledges the pain and tries in vain to turn over. Flair grabs onto the ropes for added leverage, and after several unsuccessful attempts to break his grip on a five count, the ref has seen enough and calls for the bell.
Being the Enforcer that he is, Anderson gets in and interrupts the hold himself. Flair doesn’t want any trouble, and offers a handshake to his former long-time friend and partner, but when Anderson responds by revealing a naked torso beneath his track suit top, Flair sees the writing on the wall and starts throwing punches. Arn fires back and chases Flair to the locker room, as Heenan is forced to concede that he must have been fed bad intel regarding the former Horsemen’s relationship. Anderson returns to ringside, briefly teasing a confrontation with Sting, but it turns out he just wants his snazzy jacket back.
Winner: Sting, via DQ.
Next we hear the sound of a fracas taking place down near the commentary table, where a man I’ve never seen before is confronting Heenan, Bischoff and McMichael, furious about something or another. Mongo stands his ground long enough for ‘Macho Man’ Randy Savage to run down and make the save, spinning the assailant around and showing him what a real crazy person looks like. The two are about to get in the ring and settle their differences, but Bischoff suddenly becomes concerned with bout sanctioning rules and regulations, and orders security to remove the man while Savage continues to go berserk up on the turnbuckle. Bischoff tells him that if he sets one foot in the ring, he’ll never wrestle for WCW again, resulting in a very audible cry of ‘bull shit!’ from the disgruntled employee. The segment ends with Bischoff introducing a pretty cool video package for Sabu, whose run with Turner is news to me.
We’re back, and Mean Gene is in the ring cracking wise. He congratulates Mike Hill of Cullman, Alabama on winning a Harley Davidson sweepstake, and then Bischoff finally informs us that the man causing a ruckus at ringside just a few moments ago was in fact Scott Norton. They plug an upcoming edition of WCW Saturday Night, with a double main even of Johnny B. Badd (Marc Mero) vs. Dick Slater, and a tag match between Sting/Savage and The Blue Bloods, who can’t be that good as they don’t even have a graphic.
Time for another vignette, as IRS, apparently now going by the name Michael Wall Street, cuts a thinly veiled promo criticising Vince McMahon’s so-called ‘New Generation’ of wrestlers that can actually work a decent match, and does so while wearing a blazer he must have stolen from Ted DiBiase’s wardrobe on his way out of Titan Towers. His monologue fits neatly within the company rhetoric of how WCW is now the place where ‘the big boys play’, although he neglects to mention the fact no one had even noticed that he’d jumped ship until now.
Match Three: World Heavyweight Title: Hulk Hogan (champion) vs. Big (Boss Man) Bubba Rogers
I have no idea why the Big Boss Man would wrestle in a full business suit, but that’s what’s happening here. He makes his way to the ring with little fanfare, unlike the Hulkster, who gets a big pop for his Real American rip-off entrance. ‘The Mouth of the South’ Jimmy Hart is in tow, dressed as Apollo Creed, and despite Mongo’s fawning, Heenan declares himself unimpressed with the reigning, defending World Champion.
In the midst of the usual pre-match shirt ripping routine, Bischoff informs us that Randy Savage vs. Scott Norton has been signed for next week’s Nitro in Miami, giving us all something to look forward to. Hogan’s too-long half head of hair provides a distraction from the off, waving as it does in a lighter field of gravity than the one the rest of us occupy. This, coupled with his leaner physique, causes him to bear a quite striking resemblance to the White Walkers from HBO’s Game of Thrones.
Boss Man, whose bizarre outfit is almost as diverting as Hogan’s hair, gets us off to the races with a rest hold, but the champion breaks free and demonstrates his new Pastamania-inspired speed and agility off the ropes. Talking of speed, the commentary team marvels at the Boss Man’s boxing, with Heenan going so far as to claim he has the fastest hands in the sport, after former Golden Gloves champion Mero of course. Heenan continues to big up Boss Man’s refined arsenal, noting how his martial arts background, wrestling knowledge and past career as a corrections officer serve to make him a formidable opponent for anyone. Mongo then throws all of that out of the window by stating, ‘he’s a brawler, plain and simple,’ before describing Hogan as ‘a technician’.
Hogan catches Boss Man coming in for a corner splash with a big boot, not once but twice, with the second shot sending the challenger down to the mat in instalments. Heenan does his best to get Kevin Sullivan’s Dungeon of Doom stable over as a legitimate threat, but listening to the names he reels off, it’s difficult not to envision a selection of absolute no-hopers (Zodiac Man, The Shark, Task Master, etc). There is an odd spot where Hogan is unloading with punches on a downed Boss Man – giving us a great view of a Hogan Sucks sign on the front row – and the referee resolves to pretty aggressively pull what’s left of his hair to break the sequence. Notoriously touchy about his fragile locks, Hogan turns to confront the ref, allowing Boss Man to hit an uppercut and lay him out on the middle rope. Boss Man inexplicably goes outside to intimidate Jimmy Hart, handing control back to Hogan, who throws him inside and uses Hart’s jacket to cover his head while delivering mounted punches in the corner.
Hogan continues to rough Boss Man up, but once against falls victim to that fabled hand speed, prompting Mongo to ask Heenan if this isn’t the best wrestling action he’s ever seen. Boss Man misses with The Ho Train, but catches Hogan with a sidewalk slam off the ropes for two. Hogan decides he’s sold enough for one day, and begins his patented Hulk up routine: no sell → Finger Poke of Doom → punches → Irish whip → big boot → big leg → profit.
Winner: Hulk Hogan, via pinfall (leg drop).
Before the obligatory pose down can take place, The Dungeon of Doom, comprised of Kevin Sullivan in some kind of Flash costume, a Crow Sting/Ultimate Warrior hybrid and Kamala descend upon Hogan. The Shark (Earthquake) and Meng (Haku) take so long getting to the ring that Luger has already ran in and started making the save by the time they arrive. Luger and Hogan bump into each other and go face to face, shouting at one another until Sting and Savage show up to try and calm things down. Mongo says it’s the most amazing turn of events he has ever seen.
We go to a break with the scene continuing to escalate, and they air a promo for the upcoming Fall Brawl: War Games, where Hogan, Savage, Sting and Vader will join forces in the battle against Muscular Dystrophy. Fighting on behalf of the disease will be the aforementioned Dungeon of Doom, who I can only hope were known as The Dungeon of Dystrophy for one night only.
Back in the ring, and it’s boots on the ground reporting from Mean Gene. He manages to trick Hogan into confessing that he’s worried about Luger taking his spot, followed by further jabs at the WWF, with Luger claiming he got tired of ‘playing around with kids’. Hogan shows uncharacteristically poor negotiation skills by countering Luger’s offer to wait five years for a title shot by agreeing to face him next week, although he does qualify this sudden turnabout in confidence (seconds ago he was fretting over his future) by pointing out that the Pastamaniacs will be right behind him in Miami.
