Wacky Wrestling Theory 5.01.08: The Legendary Bob Holly

Posted by Jake Chambers on 05.01.2008

The chronicles of a criminally ignored legend in some of the greatest moments in pro-wrestling history.

Zipping past the waving flag, Bob Holly raises his fingers off the wheel in an unacknowledged salute to the crowd. The stands are thinning out like the hair in his once proudly unapologetic straw scraggly mullet. A deep bluish purple fills the oncoming evening sky, a reflection hue memory of a singlet once worn. He pays no mind to the lack of applause, he may be at the back of the pack now but he'd been close to the lead in the past and the adulation was glorious. The voice in his helmet telling him this is the last lap is drowned out by a different voice in his head.

A booming, bodacious announcement by WWF commentator Vince McMahon heralds the first big television victory in Bob Holly's career. Holly was thrown together in a makeshift tag team with the 1-2-3 Kid to fill in for the fallen golden team of the time, the Smoking Gunns, in a tournament for the vacated tag team titles. Shockingly, Holly and the Kid, who'd rarely won a match, beat Well Dun in the first round and then the Heavenly Bodies next to advance to the Royal Rumble 1995 to contest for the titles against the heavily favored Million Dollar Corporation team of Bam Bam Bigelow and Tatanka. The popularity of the Kid may have distracted many from the workhorse of the team; Holly did whatever it took to make sure that his partner gained the win and titles. Although the glory of the victory was overshadowed by the shoving match between Bigelow and NFL superstar Lawrence Taylor (and the fact that they would lose the titles hours later), Holly declared that he was here to stay with an upset victory that must go down in history as one of the biggest, if not the biggest ever, on a worldwide pay per view.

Afterwards, Holly went out each night to lose to every new wrestler, be it a future legend in an upper-crust, pompous snob, Hunter Hearst Helmsley, or a soon to disappear, dirty fingered, slobbish plumber in TL Hopper. For years, newcomers would make their initial impression in the WWF by defeating ‘Spark Plugg,' the king of all ‘jobbers.' He felt the sting of that prejudiced term as it was typed time and time again into online message boards and columns, as a few critics even selfishly called for Holly to lose his job. Yet when he went from town to town opening up house shows the enthusiasm he drew from the crowd kept him happily entertaining in ignorant bliss. His profoundly portrayed struggle in the ring literally inspired ecstatic staccato clapping in the hopes of the audience to drive him to repeat the success of his one big win.

The car that had only moments earlier been swirling around the track at ear ringing speeds, slows to a dusty halt in front of the exuberant crew in the fluorescently decaled pit stop. The man pulls himself out of the window with honest pride. Whipping off his helmet reveals features that would not fit on a movie marquee like many of his peers, although when he smiles accomplishment radiates like the glow around the crown of an old, happy priest. A slap on the hood of the WWF NASCAR reverberates into an echo of hardcore chest blistering chops.

The hardcore pro-wrestling movement in the nineties was not only about hitting each other in the head with chairs but about recognizing the wrestlers who paid their dues with true commitment to their craft yet didn't become crossover superstars. Who better to stand alongside Cactus Jack, Terry Funk, Raven, Sandman, and Al Snow as a leader of this movement than Bob ‘Hardcore' Holly. His nickname literally was the brand of an entire division and he was no longer stained with the ‘jobber' discrimination. Soon his family name would take on generational proportions, as new wrestlers Molly and Crash were painted with the tenacity and gumption of the Holly palette. Together, Hardcore and Crash would bang with the sleekest and most popular cars on the track, sometimes even finishing out in front to the shock of the crowd.

As opponents, no holds would be barred between the Hollys. Their greatest lap pursuing each other was on the grandest stage of them all at Wrestlemania 2000. Crash walked in the champion for a fifteen-minute, anything goes Hardcore Battle Royal. In the final minutes of the match, Hardcore and Crash were left in the ring dueling viciously to get the chance to pin a game, yet exhausted, momentary champion Tazz. Hardcore was thrown outside and lost in the head-smashing violent whirlwind around the ring, giving Crash a final gasp to take the title back. Receiving a Tazzmission as a receipt, the crowd cheered for the small but brave Crash not to pass out and counted down the final five seconds on the clock. Out of nowhere Bob Holly smashed a glass jar across both adjacent skulls and covered Crash. The referee's hand hit the mat in unison with the final three seconds on the clock. The officials, the ring announcer, and the commentators were all seemingly in denial of the sad tragedy that had befallen Crash, but it was no mistake. At that moment Hardcore Bob Holly etched his name in the Wrestlemania legend stone by participating in a match, winning and earning a title all simultaneously.

The salt of that memory tastes like blood in his mouth, lips sealed tight against the roaring winds coming in off the track. His head and ears still ring in testament to the thudding era of extreme wrestling, his body like the cars in his junkyard, tell tales of busted, smoky caution laps. As he listens to the mechanics assess the damage to his car, Holly thinks of vengeance. A door broken off from a moonsault, a hood sliced open from a table, an engine rotting on the inside with gout, and a head-on collision that crushed the neck of his car; every time he sought vengeance, especially on one of the greatest nights in pro-wrestling history.

The Royal Rumble 2004. Philadelphia, the birthplace of ‘hardcore.' Full circle, like another lap around the track, the Royal Rumble is again the stage for a peak career achievement. The WWE champion Brock Lesnar had almost crippled Hardcore Holly with a botched powerbomb. Holly earned his violent rebirth back onto a Smackdown then dominated by giants and justly built a believable challenge for the WWE Title.

Fireworks burst and Holly attacked, exploding his shoulder into Brock on the edge of the ring apron. Brock recuperated and, like a trembling bear having taken a gut slash from a mountain lion, he locked in a wise, early gut-wrench on the ground. Brock's reluctance to stand toe-to-toe with Holly continued to show the cowardice he'd displayed in the weeks leading up to this match. With each of Holly's attempts to reverse or muscle out, Brock expertly used suplex variations to send him back to the ground and grapevine in with his wrestling pedigree. A massive flurry erupted from Holly, a clothesline, the trademark dropkick and then an earthquaking Alabama Slam. Looking to match the strategy of his opponent, Holly then locked in an innovative full nelson while jumping onto Brock's back and taking him to the floor. Again he went for another full nelson back in the ring but Brock shifted his weight and threw Holly to the ground. Going for the full-nelson a third time was the only crack in the game plan the expert tactician Lesnar needed to capitalize and quickly hoist Holly onto his shoulders for a picture perfect version of his finishing move, the whirling, face-planting F5. Holly was pinned. Brock rushed to get his title and whisk away with his slight victory. Holly would get other major title matches in the future, but this was the most high profile, the most prolific and the most conclusive of his legendary career.

The time of the match was short. Holly's accomplishment was not. Months before, he lay in bed with a broken neck, a personal life in ruins as a result. Adding insult to injury was the thought that this seasoned veteran would have his career encapsulated by footage of a neck-cracking, mistake powerbomb, which would help to supply critics the citation they needed to justify a wrongly labeled weak career and a way to wish him out of their own fetishized pro-wrestling world. Against all the odds, Holly came back to do what he does best.

Sadly, what Holly does best is not what the critics often praise. Holly perfected the role of the ‘loser' underdog, not by participating in one-hour draws and move-laden complex chain wrestling classics but enhancement matches that made generations of stars and wannabes look like killers. To see the pro-wrestling world through a different tint of glass, maybe there are other kinds of achievement than those of Ric Flair or Hulk Hogan. The career of Bob Holly was constructed with each microcosmic ‘squash' match as a link to an overall persona. Unlike Barry Horrowitz who made one small win in a career look huge, Holly's career arc would make one huge loss look historic. His victories in the past for minor titles proved he was capable of winning on the big stage and therefore his comeback and challenge realistically justifiable. On that historic night in 2004, Holly and Brock created the ultimate ‘squash match' a flawlessly executed and high profile encounter featuring the most prolific underdog of all time displaying his skill in validating the dominance of another wrestler and the triumph of a developing a believable, hard fought, yet short, challenge.

For a Bob Holly fan, his big world title shot was a moment of transcendent bliss. Never subject to the luxury of publicity and marketing that so many other less talented and less committed wrestlers were given, Bob Holly, the character and the man, had to fight to earn every win, every promotion, every success. This kind of slow reward for a fan is not like the instant gratification of today's wrestling scene where continuity and history are words and not practice, when jumping onto a ladder in a match can label you a genius, where stars are built like brands in a marketing class assignment, when the patient ‘art' of pro-wrestling has turned into an easy phrase for critics to slap onto their new fair-weather favorite. The pleasure in the ascension of Bob Holly was not easily earned. Regardless of whether or not he won the match, the number of moves used, or near-falls, to experience his slow rise to the pedestal of glory was incredible.

Holly walks away from the pit crew who are cleaning up under the freshly flickered on night lamps. Each step is firm, planting into the ground with strength, leveling out his career and building up the stars of the future. While many of his peers think up new business plans, lighter schedules, and reminisce about epic title wins and global headlined shows in preparation for biography video reviews of immediate Hall of Fame pampering, Holly just keeps the moments of his most recent lap fresh in his mind. Was he tightening up around that bend? Did he get too close to the wall? From his vantage point, in the nucleus of the track, he can see the whole picture and he is happy and proud.

Bob Holly's championship is not the gold on the belt around his waist, but the iron forged in the flames of a passionate heart. Speak not of dreary nights in his wake and praise only the poetry he drew from his partners and opponents with the sweat of a hard chop or the dance of a precisely dropkicked jaw. At his top speed Holly was fierce yet humble and always beatable. A realistic everyman, few tears will be shed when he finally retires. No symbolic Rolexes or dramatic farewell storylines to tug on the easily manipulated heart strings of the fans. Bob Holly wouldn't ask for such pomp or display such transparent pomposity. Unique achievement already fills his gas tank and he will just drive until the exhaust finally envelops him.