Saturday Night found me intermittently dozing through yet another piss-poor WWE card. Orton/Cena, Hardy/Holyfield, blah blah blah. Thank the dark gods, then, for the first matchup on the card: Batista and Kane versus Finlay and The Murderous Great Khali.No, your eyes do not deceive you. I have just issued praise to a Great Khali match. We will now take a short break while the rest of the Facebuster Staffers clean up the Iron City they just spit all over their computer screens. I'll be right here listening to "Funky Man" by Dee Dee King. Boom boom chak! Ba-boom ba-boom chak! Fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa funky! Ah, good, you're back.
Yes, the Bats/Khali shmozz was dreadful. Yes, it featured a particularly offensive segment in which Kane and Batista used Hornswoggle as a battering ram. And, yes, it featured a good five minutes of Khali lazily "clawing" at Kane's heavily bandaged stomach.
And I laughed the sweet, chiming laughter of an innocent child.
If we are to live in a world of Whimsical Sportz Entertainment, then let Khali clawing Kane's jelly-filled tum serve as the key image of our era. This is a wrestling hold so awkward, so unbelievable, that it fills the heart of anyone who views it with warmth and light. Is it the pro wrestling that I know, love, and obsess over? Goodness, no. It is instead a simpler, purer sort of thing. It is the basic and instinctive play of youths... or perhaps of morons.
Claw away, you enormous murdering man-child. Arabian Facebuster has no heart to spoil your idiotic fun. And yes, someone should make a Dee Dee doll.
1 comment:
I've never been much of a fan of the "stomach claw" a la Magnum TA vs. Kamala from The Great American Bash 85 (see Pencil Neck Geek to set up a viewing time of this footage). or the "nerve hold of moderate discomfort" illustrated by Flair vs. Khali, or if you prefer, Meng from the Double W See Double W.
However, I am a huge mark for the more traditional "iron claw" to the skull, utilized and perfected by the likes of Baron Von Raschke, The Von Erich boyz (when they were sober enough to apply it), Black Jack Mulligan, and even Black Jack's one-time lanky son, Barry Windham.
For any hold that robs the brain of oxygen (eventually resulting in permanent brain damage) while compacting the skull similar to the way a garbage truck compacts trash is fine by me!
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