The MeeThinks Friday FreeThinks: 04.11.08

Posted by John Meehan on 04.11.2008

WrestleMania's in the books and I am BACK, baby!



Welcome back to your regularly scheduled week-end wrapup of all things 'rasslin-related. I'm fresh off of a weeklong stint in sunny Orlando, Florida, where I had the privilege of seeing WrestleMania 24 LIVE and in person at the Citrus Bowl. A huge thanks to Stevathan Cook for covering for Mee last week -- even if he did just so happen to add a few extra letters to my name for good measure.

Though I'm just about a week late in getting my WrestleMania wrapup column to los intrawebz (like I said -- extended vacation in Florida), other news has been pretty light this week, and I figured that many folks out there might be interested to hear another firsthand account of what it was like to be there for this year's milestone PPV. As such, this report will be heavy on 'Mania thoughts and light on other news.

For those of y'all who *aren't* interested in such a read... might I suggest the "back" button? Or better yet, feel free to air your greivances in public, courtesy of the handy dandy comments section at the bottom of this page. :) PS: A big MeeThinks "HELLO!" to everybody who managed to spot Mee at the show live -- it was a nice little ego boost to have complete strangers stopping up to say "hi." It's always great to rub elbows with fellow 'rasslin fans, and I hope you enjoyed the show as thoroughly as I did.

As for that other news (THREATDOWN style!) --

Test is a bonehead, and was busted for DUI at 10:30 a.m. earlier this week. This is not his first reckless driving-related run-in with the law.

Mike Knox (or somebody close to him) is a bonehead, as steroids, pay stubs, and his WWE contract were found stashed in a crawlspace in an Atlanta home he used to rent earlier this week.

New evidence suggests that Nancy Benoit was increasingly worried by her husband's suspected drug use in the weeks leading to the Benoit family tragedy of almost one year ago.

A number of yet-unnamed WWE wrestlers reportedly sent text messages to Chris Benoit after learning that he had died. Whether or not these messages came before or after learning that Benoit was also responsible for the deaths of his wife and son has yet to be confirmed.

New evidence suggests that Chris Benoit may well have been certifiably insane during the final days of his life, as the former WWE star is reported to have booked a flight to his regularly scheduled WWE appearance just hours after murdering his wife and son.

TNA Wrestling has agreed to donate a portion of their April merchandise sales to help benefit autism research.

Johnny Fairplay and Survivor castmate Joel "Truck" Anderson have not yet been offered TNA contracts, though they are expected to sign with the company in the near future.

TNA Lockdown is this weekend. In lieu of my normal pre-show prediction format, I'm just going to go ahead and list my picks here: Rhaka Khan, Kip James, Kong and Saeed, Booker & Sharmell, Sonjay, Team Cage, and Samoa Joe (about damned time).

Right then -- so let's get ON WITH THE SHOW!!!



A FULL-OUT, WRESTLEMANIA 24 EXCLUSIVE! LIVE FROM ORLANDO, FLORIDA!

I guess I should begin by noting that my WrestleMania experience was quite a bit different than that of a number of my esteemed 411 colleagues like JP, JT, Double M, Small and the likes. No Hall of Fame for Mee... but an absolute blast of a weekend and a bunch of WrestleMania stories worth sharing nonetheless. Ah what the heck, maybe we'll even throw in a few EXCLUSIVE 'Mania photos to share before I'm done, eh?

Rock & Roll.


Saturday

After a 4:45 a.m. wakeup, an eternity in the security screening lines, and a two-hour flight from Ronal Reagan National airport in the heart of our nation's capital, my fiancee and I landed at Orlando International Airport at just about 11 a.m., hopped in the rental car (Pontiac Vibe! Thirty six miles per gallon, bitchezzz!) and made a beeline for the Magic Kingdom for an early dose of Disney (we're annual passholders).

That evening, we picked up my dad and my brother from the airport. The Meehan men were dead-set on squeezing "six days of vacation into just 48 hours," and so we all headed to Old Town -- part classic car show, part local hangout, part free amusement park, part boardwalk shop, part street carnival, part kitch-filled tourist trap, you name it. For visitors to the Orlando vicinity, it's really a "must-see" and authentic counterpoint to the squeaky-clean, over-the-top, corporate commercialism of the other (and perhaps more well-known) attractions in the area, and it's quite a lot of fun.

After a quick stop back at the timeshare (my fiancee was absolutely wiped after a day of travel, so we dropped her off), the Meehan men headed out for some kickass latenight revelry at nearby Pleasure Island. If you've never been, I'd absolutely reccomend checking out The Adventurer's Club down on the far side of the PI nightclub strip. Holy hoopla, Batman, it was an absolute riot (so much so that I brought my ladyfriend back to see the place later in the week).

Just shy of 2 a.m. (meaning I'd been up -- and runnin -- for right about 20 hours straight), we finally called it a night and headed back to the timeshare.


Sunday's Pre-Mania Festivities

Seven a.m. wake-up call (YAY FIVE HOURS OF SLEEP!) and a quick sprint to Starbucks meant that we'd all be up and ready to roll for an 8 a.m. departure to Universal Studios and the Islands of Adventure themeparks (which opened at 9 a.m.). Plan went according to schedule, and we hit the Islands in full force right as the doors opened. Thanks to our early arrival, we were able to blow through just about each of the major attractions in a little under two hours flat, which meant that by 11 a.m. we'd already successfully bested all of the major attractions at Islands of Adventure (Spidey, Hulk, Dragons, you name it).

Sadly, just five hours of sleep + Starbucks + seven separate rides that dipped, dropped, dove and spun in a little under two hours was about all my guts could handle -- and so I was pretty much a walking wounded by the time we hopped on over to the Universal Studios park for noon... just in time to tackle a no-lines, no-waiting run on The Revenge of the Mummy indoor supercoaster. HO-LEE CRAP.

That about did it for Mee on the thrill rides. On the bright side, though, it meant that I could slow things down a bit and catch up with some of the park's many characters... including my main man, Shrek -- who spotted my Hulkamania t-shirt and immediately showed his true colors as a huge wrestling fan.



The big guy might be green, alright... but he totally bleeds red and yellow.

Since *my* complexion by this point pretty well matched the color of Hornswoggle's jacket, a lunchtime cocktail (even a boozeless one) was pretty much out of the question for the 1 p.m. (that really didn't start until 2 p.m.) 411 Staff Party at Margaritaville. If I was ever going to make it to 'Mania, I needed some A/C and a rest... so we all headed back to the timeshare to grab some grub, drop off my better half, and head out for the evening's testosterone-fueled festivities as only the Meehan clan of menfolk could.


The WrestleMania Countdown

Seems as if WrestleMania brings out the inner showman in all of our wardrobes, as my exteemed 411 colleague Jame Thomlison so eloquently tried to defend ***his*** "utterly ridiculous on purpose" WrestleMania getup by saying:

That was the GOAL! SHOCK…. AND…. AWE people was the plan from the start. This wasn't JT walking around in his regular everyday street attire. No no, this (like those swank aviator shades) that were brought SPECIFICALLY for the purpose of heading to WM weekend, and looking utterly ridiculous in that fabulously-terrible and horrifically-awesome kind of way. Mission accomplished! All of my friends and family were privy to this plan way ahead of time. Although if you thought that pic was ridiculous, you should have seen some of the other outfits that did not include an appropriate WM 24 shirt!

While I most definitely share in JT's sentiments, I can't help but think that my friend in "fabulously-terrible and horrifically-awesome" attire kinda fell short of the benchmark of heinously outstanding WrestleMania wardrobe that was set by the Meehan men.

Judge for yourselves:



THAT, my friends, is how you do purposefully laughable.

On the left, my brother Jeremy proudly sports his John Cena "Word Life" baseball shirt, a souvenir from our family trip to WrestleMania XX at MSG. He's what we like to call the most "normal" one in the family.

That's yours truly in the middle, rocking a kickass plastic novelty Randy Savage mask from a 1992 Halloween costume that my pops found on eBay a few months back for like two bucks (yes, I also have the spandex bodysuit. No, it doesn't fit). That flaming lavender Macho Man t-shirt, by the way, is a genuine Meehan family heirloom -- my dad bought it for Mee when I was five. It fit quite a bit differently back then, of course... but it's pretty sad that my skinny ass can still fit into that sucker some twenty years later. And in case you were just dying for a close up...



That's one hot tranny mess, right there.

Getting back to the group photo -- my dad's the one with the hulking forearms on the right, donning his Mr. America-inspired feather boa and the trademark yellow Hot Dog Johnny's T-shirt y'all might just remember Mee and the fam so proudly wore during all of those months when we were used as stock footage for the opening montage of TNA iMPACT!

(refresher course...)



Alrighty, so now that you've met the cast of this wacky WrestleMania adventure, let's get to it!

We left at 4 p.m. to get to the show early, do some tailgaiting, and scalp sell our three extra seats, but the drive to the Citrus Bowl was crazy-ass long, even by stadium standards. Our timeshare was just about 14 miles away from the venue (and even by generous time-delay standards, an hour -- tops -- should have been plenty of time to get from point A to point B), but the Citrus Bowl was built long before I4 and the rest of the Florida Interstate system ever came into existence... meaning that the final stretch from the highway to the stadium itself was absolute MURDER.

Anybody who drove to this year's event should be able to attest just how brutal that last two miles were, as traffic was bumper-to-bumper and backed up solid for every bit of 60-90 minutes in the hours just prior to showtime. The good news, of course, was that EVERY single car on that final road was each headed to WrestleMania 24... and so it was pretty fun to hear and see different sights and sounds of the other 'rasslin fans as they rolled (ever so slowly) into the Citrus Bowl for the 6:30 start time. Those 'rolling alongside of the MeeMobile might even have spotted some crazy schmuck driving while donning a plastic Macho Man mask on the side of his face ;)

Along the way, eagle-eyed fanboys probably caught glimpses of a few of the infamous WrestleMania XXIV billboards that were peppered about the city's skyline. These puppies raised quite a stir with the local authorities, as they apparently ran afoul of some age-old city decency ordinance that says no nipples are to be made visible on public signage. Of course, the statute never bothered to mention that *male* nipples aren't really all that shocking or offensive... and so WWE was actually forced to airbrush away all of the superstar areolas in order to post their signage citywide.

Click the image below for a closer view:



When we finally rolled into the Citrus Bowl's regularly scheduled parking area (at just about 5:45 p.m. -- almost TWO HOURS after departing for the venue from just 15 minutes away), the local authorities had already closed off all road access to the stadium itself, meaning that the remaining 20,000+ still-car-bound fans would be have to park at the nearest lot/gas station/church/front lawn/etc., and hoof it just about a mile-plus through one of Orlando's most dangerous of neighborhoods, where residents and (ahem) "aspiring entrepreneurs were camped out on curbsides and front porches to scalp tickets, sell "on-my-lawn" parking, hawk homemade souvenir t-shirts, or try to turn a quick buck by selling bottles of water, barbeque, and beer. We managed to find a spot in a (semi-reputable, or so it seemed) church parking lot just about a mile or so away from the stadium to dock our wheels for the night. Ten bucks to park in a shady neighborhood mighta given Mee reason to pause on any other day, but this was WRESTLEMANIA, DAMMIT! And besides -- I was driving a rental car. :)

After trekking through the Orlando underbelly (like no joke, people -- this place was in dire need of some work), we made it to the stadium itself (at just about 6 p.m.) and tried to get whatever we could for my three extra tickets. Thanks to a handy revision to Florida law in 2007, it turns out that ticket scalping is actually 100% legal in the Sunshine State (thank YOU, Jeb Bush!), and so I was seriously thinking I'd be able to turn a sweet profit for my few extra seats in section 214.



Well, so much for THAT idea.

Turns out that in the last few days before the show, WWE wound up "papering" just about 5,000 to 7,000 seats of this 70,000 person stadium in order to get a full crowd for the PPV. This meant that *many* (though nowhere near "most") of the folks sitting up in the nosebleeds were doing so on WWE's dime, and so the number of people looking to score last-minute seats were pretty well limited to the uberfans aiming to end up on the floor level or ringside. Of course, a handful of those "freebie" seats also ended up getting a firework in their laps by evening's end -- but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

As for my ill-fated ticket-flipping venture: money spent and lesson learned -- at least I've got a pretty swank set of stubs for my WrestleMania 24 scrapbook, no!? (Lemonade out of lemons, people).


WrestleMania 24

From what I could hear from just outside the gates, it sounded as if people were digging on Kane as the odds-on-favorite to win the 24-man shmozz. So About five minutes into the preshow battle royal (which -- coincidentally -- was right about the time when the match itself ended), I decided to cut my losses and head into the stadium. My dad and my brother had already ducked out in order to save our seats, so I figured it'd be a pretty quick trip to join them for the show. Problem is, the Citrus Bowl is HELLA old (like 1930's old!), and so the signage and stairways aren't particularly "new-fan" friendly. As luck (or fate?) would have it, I wound up taking the absolute worst stairwell possible -- a one-way ramp up five spiraling levels all the way to sections 324 and 325.

(Keep this section in mind for later).

Not only were the 320's an entire level up from my seats in the 200s (with no quick access between levels to help a brother out), it turns out they were a full endzone ACROSS the stadium from where my seats were located (in the Northeastern-most corner of the venue), and so I had about 15 minutes to sprint down five flights, ACROSS the width of the stadium, and up another two flights into our seats in the 213.

Did I say "213?" Whoops, I meant "214" -- as the seating areas (and the guards directing people every which way) weren't really all that good at pointing fans in the appropriate direction, and so we all ended up seated in the wrong section with just about five minutes left to go before the 7 p.m. start time. Though we'd move to our regularly scheduled seats a minute or so later, I couldn't help but find it funny that we were nowhere NEAR alone in our misseating miscue, as fans were bumping in and out of their quote-unquote "assigned" seats and getting redirected elsewhere for the better part of the next two hours solid.

No joke.

Mistaken seats aside, we were finally in place just in time for the start of the show. So here's a shot of our vantage point:



So yeah... TIME FOR WRESTLING!

As y'all saw on pay-per-view, the show kicked off with Lillain Garcia welcoming us all to WrestleMania, followed by John Legend's perfomance of "America the Beautiful" and a kickass flyover of four F-16 fighter jets in perfect formation. What y'all may not have known, however, was that this opening montage was pieced together (quite literally) as the show went live, as the fighter jets didn't actually fly over the stadium during the America the Beautiful performance itself. Yay "magic of television" :)

Match #1: Finlay vs. JBL (Belfast Brawl)

The first match of the night saw Finlay come up short against JBL. As expected for a WrestleMania opener, the crowd was pretty stoked for this match, and so the first-out-of-the-gate babyfaces (in Finlay and Hornswoggle) managed a pretty sizable pop for their efforts. I'd love to see how this all came off on television, but it wasn't all that hard for the live crowd to get into the back-and-forth action in the ring. As for the "highspots" of the match, the crowd went absolutely bonkers for Finlay's suicida (into the trashcan lid), and JBL netted a great bit of heel heat when he hauled off and THREW A GARBAGE CAN into Hornswoggle on the floor beside the ring.


Backstage Interview (Kim Kardasian and Mr. Kennedy)

Post-match, Kim Kardasian's interview with Mr. Kennedy received a notably more subdued bit of fan attention... but that probably has a lot to do with the fact that the live crowd knew we were in for upwards of three and a half more hours of action, and so we had to pace ourselves accordingly. Dunno whether or not this segment had been prerecorded before the show or what have you, but I will say that Kim Kardasian did a surprisingly competent job in the role she was given.


Match #2: Money in the Bank Ladder Match

Next up was Money in the Bank. And some unexpected (though not really unexpected) Orlando rain. Thankfully, it was still a comfortable 65 or so degrees outside... and the match promised to be a "hot" one, so nobody seemed all that put off by a few showers so long as the weather stayed warm.

As far as entrances went, Jericho easily outpopped the rest of the crew -- with second and third place probably running neck-and-neck between CM Punk, MVP, and Carlito (yes, Carlito -- who was as close to a hometown hero as he's likely to get on the continental U.S.). Kennedy's new music was still a bit unfamiliar to the live crowd, and the fact that his song dragged on FOREVER while the WWE production team trotted out MVP's inflatable entranceway probably didn't help maintain any sort of pop the guy otherwise might have had.

Literally just minutes into the match, and Morrison busted out a top-rope moonsault to the outside of the ring WHILE HOLDING A LADDER, and I thought for sure that somebody would be heading to a hospital. Dunno how well it came across on TV (what with the multiple announcers and the replays and all), but that one drew the first legitimate "HO-LEE-SHIT" chant of the night.

A few minutes later, it was definitely time to shine for the "Gold Standard." When Carlito tipped the ladder on Shelton, Benjamin simply stood on the top rope and looked at him as if to say "sucka pleazeee." That got a bunch of the Orlando fans behind him, which made his jaw-dropping senton flop off of the top of the ladder (and through the other one at ringside) all the more engaging just a little while after. People often rag on ladder matches (understandably) for being more "spotty" than "storytelling," but from where I was sitting, at least, Shelton Benjamin's efforts in the bout up until that point had actually managed to win him a pretty vocal minority of the fans, and so there was some serious concern from the folks in the 200 level for the poor bastard's safety (I'm pretty sure at least a few of them couldn't clearly see the ladder outside of the ring that Shelton ended up falling through).

When MVP scaled the ladder and looked to have the easy win in sight, I'm pretty sure that *most* of the "smart" fans in the arena knew that something else was up -- and WWE certainly didn't disappoint by having Matt Hardy make the run-in to put the U.S. Champ out of the match for good. Hardy got a respectable little pop of his own when he jumped in from the crowd, but (admittedly) he's still got a lot of ground to make up if he's ever going to catch his brother.

When Punk and Jericho battled on top of the ladder for the big finale, I thought for sure that Y2J was legitimately injured. Punk tripped Jericho up in a tree of woe position for the win, and the second the bell rang (dunno if this came across on TV or not) WWE vaulted two referees into the ring to unhook Y2J's leg from the ladder, ASAP. Jericho and the refs didn't even seem to notice Punk's in-ring celebration, as the guy's knee looked to be in serious jeopardy -- and his eventual walk up the ramp (with assistance) long after the next match's video package started rolling looked dangerously slow and painful.


Hall of Fame Class Announcement

This one went just about exactly as I'd assume it came across on television. The largest pop of the segment was actually saved for the announcement of Mae Young (GO FIGURE!). The Flair family would, of course, receive the more substantial pop just a bit later... but a lot of folks there in live attendance seemed much more inclined to save their loudest Flair family applause for the patriarch himself just a little while later in the show.


Snoop Dogg Backstage Segment

Snoop's segment was a fun little break in the action, though it's debatable whether or not there was even really any need for "comic relief" this early in the show. Still, it managed to trot out four surefire crowd-popping personalities (even if their in-ring skills range from non-existent to well past their prime), which made for a fun little mini-"WrestleMania moment" along the lines of the Bobby Heenan & Mean Gene / Moolah and Mae Young boiler room makeout, and the backstage dance party with Slick.

Snoop drew a nice reaction as he was the first "legit" celebrity to have their face shown up to that point. Santino, of course, managed to elicit plenty of boos (and a few cheers, from folks like yours truly) simply by strutting into the view of the camera. The biggest surprise of the segment (in my opinion) was in just how hot the crowd was for Festus -- as that character really seems to have connected with fans of all ages. Foley's cameo was a fun way to bring the thing to a close, but it's probably fair to say that the guy received a warmer welcome by appearing in a clear-cut non-wrestling role than he would have if he'd actually set foot on the entrance ramp.


Match #3: Batista vs. Umaga

Maybe it's because Money in the Bank was just so fast-paced and flashy, or maybe it was because few (if any) people actually buy that there's ever really anything at stake in these so-called "Battles for Brand Supremacy" (Smackdown ALWAYS wins, yet they still have the crappier timeslot)... but the crowd just wasn't digging on this match in the least. Batista looked particularly bad, and the overall pacing of the bout was simply way too much of a slow and plodding "hossfest" to hold the crowd's attention for all that long. LOTS of unfavorable chants directed at this one, ranging from the usual ("BOHRRR-ING") to the smartassed ("T-N-A! T-N-A!") and everything in between... and the fact that Batista nearly killed himself *and* Umaga with that Batista Bomb for the finisher didn't help matters. He looked to be in legit pain as he made his way up the ramp.

Fantasy booking idea #10427384: If you're going to have a "Battle for Brand Supremacy" match at next year's WrestleMania, have the outcome of the contest affect some sort of stipulation after the show ends. Say, "winner's brand gets the first draft choice" or something equally bogus (though faux-enticing) in order to get people vested in the outcome of the otherwise forgettable match.

On the bright side -- the rain had stopped ;)


Match #4: Kane vs. Chavo Guerrero (ECW Championship)

I've read pretty much nothing but negative reactions across the webz on this one, but from the perspective of a fan in live attendance at the event, I've really gotta hand it to WWE for making the decision here that they did. After the Batista/Umaga showdown slo-mo snoozefest ended up so (to borrow a line) "bowling shoe ugly," the still-wet-from-the-freak-rainfall fans were getting antsy and looked to be heading for the restrooms and concession stands if the next match didn't grab their attention in a hurry.

The fact that Chavo was introduced first didn't do much to win us back over, either -- as even though Chavito is probably the strongest remaining link to the famed "legendary Guerrero wrestling family," he is nowhere near over on his own merits, nor is he anything particularly special to watch in the ring. When his music hit, he received the obligatory "boo for the bad guy" response, but it was painfully clear that even the disdain of the Orlando crowd was tepid and halfhearted (at best), and a LOT of eyes seemed more interested on the next trip to the pissers or the next round of beers. Frankly, it didn't bode well.

Kane, for his part, couldn't really do all that much to salvage the situation. Sure he's a passable worker, but the biggest thing the guy's got going for him is his opening pyro. In other words, fans were really just planning to stick around to see his fireworks and then split for the restrooms the second they rang the opening bell.

So again, I have to agree with WWE's decision here 100%. The live crowd was really sluggish after Umaga/Batista stunk up the joint, and WWE seriously ran the risk of losing us for good if we were subjected to yet another eight-minute borefest with little build between two guys who really aren't viewed as "main-eventers" brawling over a third-rate championship (sorry ECW, but it's true). In my estimation, at least, it seemed that the window of opportunity to catch our attention had shrunk just about to the length of The Big Red Machine's pyro, and the fact that we were treated to a surprise victory in such a short amount of time really did quite alot to win us back.

Basically, the Orlando crowd had just received the shot in the arm that we needed in order to get enthused for the show all over again.

... unfortunately for Raven Simone. :)


Raven Simone / Make-a-Wish Foundation Segment

Poor girl was already a fish out of water in a WWE ring ("tween, family-friendly young adult child star meets PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING SUPERSPECTACLE?" Yeesh...), and the fact that she was the next person out of the curtains after the welcome surprise that was Kane's 8-second title win really ran the risk of coming across as a buzzkill. I'm sure it came across on television, because the O-town crowd really let her have it. Once she mentioned the Make-a-Wish foundation things lightened up considerably (after all, it's pretty freaking callous to boo for kids with life-threatening illness) -- but it was a smart idea to keep Raven's segment as short and sweet as possible so as not to derail what momentum the show had managed to regain.


Backstage Interview (Mike Adamle and Ric Flair)

Thank God this sucker was kept to a one-liner minimum, as fans were absolutely busting at the seams to see The Nature Boy live and in person (thanks to a slick video package, plus the Hall of Fame announcement earlier in the evening), and the crowd noise would have probably drowned out anything Flair might have said if he went on for more than just a few seconds... which really would have been a shame.


Match #5: Shawn Michaels vs. Ric Flair (Career Threatening Match)

In my 25 years as a wrestling fan, I have seen hundreds of matches aired live on pay-per-view. I've seen thousands more on live television broadcast, and countless others on video tape. In addition, I've seen some of the greatest performers the industry has ever seen ply their trade on a live stage at PPV events, house shows, and television tapings, and I've had the privilege of being there live for some of the most memorable matches in the modern history of professional wrestling.

I witnessed the clash of the titans when Kurt Angle took on The Undertaker.
I was there when Eddie Guerrero faced Rey Mysterio once and for all.
I watched as "The Legend" Hulk Hogan faced "The Icon" Shawn Michaels.
And I've seen Chris Benoit win the World Title on the Grandest Stage of Them All.

This one topped them all. From the moment Ric Flair hit the stage in the grand fashion that only he can, I knew for certain that everyone in the Citrus Bowl and those watching at home were in for one hell of a treat.



Was this the most technically sound of affairs? Not by a longshot. Was it the bloodiest or most brutal? No chance in hell. Was it the flashiest, the highest-risk, or the most sensational of contests? Not on your life.

But what this match *was* -- for Mee, at least -- was professional wrestling storytelling at its absolute finest. In a scripted sport like this one, wins and losses don't really matter in the long run... yet this match resonated with fans in spite of its predetermined nature, as it conveyed a truly "larger than life" aura to the point where (even if only for a minute) just about everyone in the audience actually found themselves rooting for The Nature Boy to pull off the upset victory in order to keep his career alive for one more day. And when Michaels missed his moonsault and crash-landed through the announce table, the fans in attendance suddenly had the "hook" upon which the rest of this story could hang.

"Shawn Michaels is Mr. WrestleMania, but Ric Flair is The Dirtiest Player in the Game."

Without even so much as a ringside announcer to sell us on that fact, the Orlando crowd immediately saw that this match had taken on a brand new opening -- and an instant dose of believability along the way. Flair might be old, but he's a cagey bastard who won't go down without a fight... especially if it meant the end of his career. And if Michaels was hurt? Well that might just be all Ric needed to pull off the upset to end all upsets.

When Flair locked in the Figure Four, the Citrus Bowl went absolutely bananas. Even though every ounce of logic going into the match would have told us that there was absolutely no chance that The Nature Boy was walking away from this match victorious, the screaming crowd was on their feet and begging in unison for HBK to "TAP! TAP! TAP!" Our disbelief was suspended, the seeds for an upset had been planted, the two men before us were putting on one hell of a show, and they'd told their story so well that fans were gasping, wincing, and cheering at each near-fall.

Once Michaels broke the hold and made it to the ropes, the match kicked into overdrive and just about everyone in attendance remained on their feet for the remainder of the bout. Shawn nailed the superkick just seconds later, but his failure to make the cover and Flair's low blow sent the crowd into an absolute frenzy -- COULD FLAIR *ACTUALLY* PULL THIS OFF?!? People were buying it in spite of themselves, and you could almost see the fans clenching their teeth and holding their collective breath as Michaels slapped on his modified Figure Four in the sequence that followed, as if to channel a classic (and overused) Michael Cole-ism in a desperate attempt to telepathically change the ending of the predetermined bout unfolding before us... ("NO! NOT THIS WAY, DAMMIT!!!")

Flair just barely snagged the ropes, and again the tables had turned. A flurry of chops back and forth later, and once more the wheel of fortune spun as Michaels delivered a second superkick from out of nowhere. When he refused to make the cover and made his way one final time to the corner to "tune up the band," people were freaking out on both sides of the aisle -- half begging The Nature Boy to stand up, half crying for the poor bastard to stay down. Michaels sold this stretch like a champ, teasing frustration and regret all the while as he pleaded with Flair to stagger to his feet (and thanks to the Jumbo-Trons above the ring, even the folks in the cheap seats got the chance to see the emotion on both men's faces during this most dramatic of cresendos).

Once he reached a knee, Ric Flair demonstrated the true heart of a champion, shouting as the tears streamed down his face and begging his opponent to make good on his vow to bring nothing but his very best. Fans were eating this up, as the look on Flair's face -- like that of so many a hero in a fictionalized sports tale before him -- shouted the message loud and clear that true champions are those who stand and fight even when they know they have been beaten. And in that final moment -- truly a "WrestleMania Moment" if there ever was one -- you could feel the goosebumps sweep the stadium as the greatest career in the history of the game was brought to a dramatic conclusion.

"I'm sorry. I love you."

1-2-3.

In terms of raw emotion alone, this is easily the best match I have ever had the privilege of seeing live. If you're a wrestling fan, this is truly one of a select handful of matches than I can honestly call an "unforgettable" and must-see encounter.


Backstage Interview (Todd Grisham and Edge)

It's really too bad that this interview had the tall task of following in the footsteps of the superemotional Flair swansong. Edge was on fire here, but most of the live crowd was absolutely wiped from the last match, and so many spent this time talking over the television feed and conversing with one another about how impressed and entertained they'd been by everything they had just seen. For many a fan (like 411's own Ryan Byers), the Flair match was simply THE (long-sounding "EEE") reason for watching the show, and so it would take quite a bit of doing to win them back to the same level of excitement they'd demonstrated just minutes earlier.

Regrettably, an interview segment (no matter how good) just wasn't gonna' cut it. But then again, short of a public hanging of John Cena or a surprise return from Eddie Guerrero himself -- perhaps the fans were justified in their post-match shellshock, as Flair and Michaels was probably just about as impossible an act to follow as you're ever gonna' find.


Match #6: Bunnymania (Beth Phoenix & Melina vs. Ashley Massaro & Maria)

Definitely a smart move by the bookers to schedule this little distraction as the next in line, because the aftershocks of the retirement match left a lot of fans reeling (and, admittedly, left many other fans heading to the restrooms). The intros alone for this contest took quite a bit of time (which really helped with the restroom lines, actually), as the WWE production team worked doubletime to properly inflate the giant Playboy Bunny balloons that sat on top of the entrance ramp. The one to the right of the entranceway kept toppling over, and it was pretty clear that somebody in the back was doing their best to tell Snoop and the rest of the LumberJills to kill as much time as possible before announcing Ashley and Maria.

As expected, this "match" (if you can call it that) was pretty standard Divas fare. Short and inoffensive, and nowhere near a technical classic or anything that you'd even remember so much as ten minutes after it was over.

UNEXPECTEDLY, however --

As y'all saw on PPV, the lights on the canopy superstructure that surrounded the ring conked out about midway through this matchup, leaving the ladies to keep the show going in complete blackout until the production staff could scramble together some spotlights in order to help a sista' out. To each of their credit, the ladies in the ring did their best not to miss a step -- which is saying something when you consider the fact that at least two of the performers out there really don't have much of a clue at all as to what they're doing in a professional wrestling ring.

Good news of course is that if these lights *had* to go out at any point during the night (not that they should have, but hey -- it's live TV, these things can happen), the divas match was probably the one that would be least affected by the whole shebang. After all, nobody is watching a Maria Kanellis match for its technical merit or emotional resonance, ya' know?

Snoop and Santino's little altercation at the end came across quite nicely for the live audience, in spite of the fact that a) Snoop's not a trained wrestler, b) Santino isn't the most technically sound of performers himself, and c) the stadium lights were just at a bare minimum. The post-match snogging with Maria was a nice touch to help send Snoop off with a no-brainer round of fan favorite applause, and it did its job in winning back the attention of a good chunk of the audience who'd just begun to make their way back to their seats after pretty much writing this one off (with its lengthy entrances, its lack of lighting, and its near absence of actual in-ring action) as no more than a piss break.


Match #7: John Cena vs. Triple H vs. Randy Orton (WWE Title)

The fact that this match was placed anywhere but the main event pretty much told us we'd be in for a surprise ending, but the bulk of the live crowd (from what I could tell, at least) took this to mean that the "surprise" would mean that the ever-polarizing John Cena would be walking away with the gold, rather than the more universally cheered Triple H. Still I think it's pretty safe to say that *nobody* expected this one to end the way that it did -- but more on that in a minute.

Ya' know what's -->almost<-- more surreal than seeing a Madison Square Garden crowd absolutely crap all over a Brock Lesnar vs. Bill Goldberg match (but not quite)? Being there live in attendance at THE SINGLE BIGGEST PAY-PER-VIEW OF THE YEAR only to see three competitors scheduled to compete for the "BIGGEST PRIZE" a company has to offer each hit the ring WITH NO RING INTRODUCTIONS WHATSOEVER.

Seriously, it was a trip.

What's a title match without the trademark announcer's call of "... and making his way to the ring..." or a reminder of a competitor's height, weight and hometown? Sure, we had the music and the entrance video and all -- but all kidding aside, when was the last time in *ANY* wrestling show you remember somebody coming to the ring to compete for a title belt at a pay per view *without* first having an announcer shout out his name?

And yet that's exactly what happened for this match. My guess (though I can't be sure) is that the same power grid that controlled the lights on the ring canopy also was responsible for the announcer's microphone that was originally scheduled to sound *over* each man's entrance theme, and so when the fuse blew, WWE pulled an audible and decided to have Lillian announce everybody all at once after they'd all made it to the ring (so as not to try and compete with the power output of the entrance videos and blow another circuit in the process), and so Cena hit the ring without anybody to announce his name. As did Triple H. And then Randy Orton did the same.

Cena, of course, made his entrance with a marching band to play him in -- which was either a "really cool concept that just failed to execute" or simply a "dumb idea that really didn't click," depending on who you ask. I personally would give 'em an "A" for effort (it's certainly no worse than the pre-recorded Ford Mustang dealie of not so long ago), but I can't help but feel the presentation was ultimately hampered by Lillian's lack of microphone access to help clue fans in on what all they were about to see.

Similarly, the fact that the first half of the match was wrestled in the dark (with just the arena spotlights to pinpoint the action while the lights on the ring canopy rebooted) most definitely detracted from the overall fan enjoyment of this match. The typical "triple threat formula" usually sees two guys go at it while another one gets knocked out of the ring or into the corner. This made it tough for the spotlights to tail each of the guys involved in the action (leaving production crews with the age-old question: "do we bother wasting a spotlight on a guy who's just lying on the floor?"), and it was probably one of the few matches on the card that may very well have actually come across BETTER on television than it did in the live arena, thanks to the benefit of some clever editing and multiple camera angles for the home audiences.

This isn't to say that the match was in any way bad, of course -- far from it, actually, and the fans were really quite into all three performers involved. Once the lights came back on about halfway through it the live crowd immediately came right back to life, but the first half in darkness plus the misfired ring entrances kind of stacked the deck against it, such that things seemed a bit rushed (maybe even moreso than they actually were) when the finish came -- quite literally, out of nowhere -- after only 14 minutes, half of which took place primarily in the dark.


Match #8: Big Show vs. Floyd Mayweather

Of all the bouts on the card, this one was definitely the one that exceeded expectations. Of course, that could be because expectations going into the match were pretty low to begin with... but the Orlando crowd ate this sucker up in spite of their doubts at every turn.

The crowd was HUGE into Big Show, and just dying to see Mayweather get his ass handed to him (the pre-match drink from the pimp challice was a great way to hammer home just how much of a douchebag this Mayweather guy was). And so regardless of who all was supposed to be the "heel" or "face" coming into the match, fans were solidly behind Show once the bell rang. Proof? Check out the chest-chop spot, where he pretty well managed to quiet a crowd of just about 70,000 people at once. The ringside involvement of each of the various members of Mayweather's enterouge was likewise a bright idea, as fans went nuts as Show started tearing through his posse and chasing down the chickenshit pugilist.

Mayweather earned some solid respect from even the most ardent of "RASSLIN" fans in the crowd (you know, mullets, trucker-caps and tobbackie juice) -- who couldn't help but applaud the fact that even if what all we were watching was fixed, the guy was certainly taking a good old fashioned ass-whuppin in order to justify his oversized payday. The spot where Show stomped on the poor bastard's hand ("THAT'S HIS MONEYMAKER!!!") was a definite crowd-pleaser. Without the outside shenanigans, this one would have been disappointingly brief, and so the fact that the match ran just a bit north of ten minutes' time was just enough to make the crowd feel as if we'd gotten our money's worth out of the affair.

Regardless, Mayweather pulling off the win left us with FOUR (count 'em, FOUR) babyface losses in a row (that might just be a WrestleMania record, come to think of it), and so perhaps it's not all that much of a shock that a decent chunk of the fairest weather of fans (including many folks who'd been given freebie seats in the nosebleeds) decided to duck out at this time and try to avoid the inevitable mass exodus traffic jam that was almost guaranteed to follow once the final match wrapped up.


Match #9: The Undertaker vs. Edge (World Championship)

I don't know how this came across on television, but for the live fans in attendance this one started off terribly lackluster and frustrating -- but that had a lot to do with the fact that a few thousand folks were already making their way to the exits before the opening bell had even rung. As such, the first stretch was pretty well no-sold by the fans in live attendance, who really couldn't seem to muster more than a halfhearted "YAY/BOO!" exchange as 'Taker and Edge traded punches a few minutes in. And when the best a crowd of 60,000+ can do is cheer in formulaic unison at a WrestleMania main event, you *know* you're in trouble.

The massive departures and the "gearing up for a marathon" pacing made it a real trick to pay close attention to the psychology unfolding in the ring before us, which was a tough break, as Edge was doing a killer job of storytelling out there as he kept maneuvering himself so that he was getting the better of the Dead Man at every turn. The foiled "Old School" top rope spot, the cagey duck-and-cover defense, you name it -- Edge brought his "A" game and told a great story out there. No commentary needed; the guy is supposed to be the smartest man in wrestling, and so it made perfect sense that he had simply figured out how to stay one step ahead of the formula of just about every single match the Undertaker has ever had.

On the bright side, we in live attendance weren't forced to suffer through the incessant banality of Coachman and Cole's cliche-riddled play-by-play. So once the initial restlessness settled down a bit, the lack of Cole's cornball, over-the-top shilling really made the last 2/3 of the bout (just after the Undertaker's suicide dive to the outside, once the first wave of "early departers" had made their exit) a LOT more entertaining to watch.

When the first ref went down, the fans who hadn't made an early exit (I'd guesstimate that just about 75% of the stadium remained in place) smelled a definite rat, as conventional booking 101 sez "the guy who gets the pin when the first ref gets knocked out almost NEVER ends up getting the win once the ref is back in action." Undertaker hit the Tombstone, but there was no ref in sight to make the count. BIG pop from the Orlando crowd for Charles Robinson, who might as well have been a Hulk Hogan-like hero as he sprinted his skinny little ass off to make the count and save the Dead Man's WrestleMania legacy.

Of course, we were still a few more surprises away from the grand finale, as 'Taker's pin attempt only got TWO (AFTER A TOMBSTONE!?!) for his efforts. Sure the ref had to run a football field's length in order to make the count and all, but the fact was that Edge had kicked out of the best move in the Dead Man's arsenal... and if a Tombstone wasn't going to be enough finish him off, well then some major shenanigans seemed imminent.

True to form, the Rated R Enterouge hit the ring moments later -- and with two refs, two croneys, and one Rated R Superstar who'd already taken his opponent's finisher but had yet to deliver one of his own, the live crowd rose to their feet to see just what kind of swerve WWE had in store for us to bring this increasingly chaotic story to a close. Undertaker took care of Ryder and Hawkins in a hurry, which (of course) set Edge up for a wicked spear from left-field... and people were flipping out at the thought that the Undertaker might actually be eating his first-ever WrestleMania loss ("NOT THIS WAY, DAMMIT!!!").

Brilliantly, 'Taker kicked out and countered Edge's next spear attempt into "THAT MOVE!!!" (TM Michael Cole) to bring the crowd to a frenzy, as fans were shouting like mad for the Rated R Superstar to "TAP! TAP! TAP!"

With that, Edge submitted cleanly in the center of the ring, and The Undertaker was crowned the new World Champion. His music hit, fans rose to their feet (with many making their way to the exits), the ringlights shifted to their trademark purple, and a stellar barrage of fireworks were launched from all around the perimeter of the stadium to close out the evening.

This, of course, did not go nearly as planned:


Remember when I said to keep sections 324 and 325 in mind wayyy back at the top of this column? Well that's because these sections -- where I had literally been (by accident!) just hours earlier -- were now the very same ones that were now home to a horrifically dangerous fireworks mishap; one that resulted in upwards of 40 fans being injured in the process. Thankfully, all of these injuries were minor, but it made for a legitimately scary moment for all parties involved nonetheless.


And With That, I'm Outta' Here

That'll do it for Mee this week. Thanks for putting up from this little departure from the regular format as we indulged in one last hurrah of WrestleMania wrap-ups. For those of y'all in DC or NYC, be on the lookout of Il Papa next week, eh? It's no WrestleMania, but I'm pumped to see the Big Man LIVE and in person on the campus of my dear old alma mater next Wednesday afternoon. 'Till next time, have a great weekend, enjoy what SHOULD be Samoa Joe's shining moment, and always stay positive!

- Meehan

The National Domestic Violence Hotline : [phone]-SAFE.