Friday, September 25, 2009

Why We Watch, Exhibit U

Eluded to but maybe not explicitly and forcefully stated in this post and clip of Stan Hansen assailing Don Herbert, we watch professional wrestling to see jobbers get clobbered, battered, man handled, systematically dissected, and even crippled by a stronger, tougher, more determined, athletic, and talented adversary (at least in theory if not always in practice).

And I'm not talking about schlubs in the mold of Charlie Haas or Rico or Crash Holly or Tom Brandi or post-Y2K Val Venis, guys that for all intensive purposes never pick up a win despite being given their own theme music, titan tron entrance, customized ring attire, and occasional backstage interview/vignette. I'm talking pasty, often mulleted, seemingly interchangeable, not exactly in the best of shape, driving to the arena in a '77 Ford Granada, working class average joe six pack like Mario Mancini, Tommy Angel, Rusty Brooks, Cruel Connection, pre-Brooklyn Brawler Steve Lombardi, Terry Gibbs, Jake "The Milk Man" Milliman, George South, Randy Orton's uncle Barry O, and of course the aforementioned Herbert.

But what about jobber tag teams? Sure there was the ill conceived Ted Turner/NWA era Ding Dongs (who weren't even supposed to be jobbers until the fans shit all over the concept of two scrawny masked guys constantly ringing cowbells, go figure) and the WWF's Moondogs (Rex & Spot). But those teams couldn't hold a candle to Jim Crockett Promotion's Thunderfoots (I & II) and Mulkey Brothers (Randy and Bill) in terms of sheer tag team haplessness and ineptitude.

Much like chocolate and peanut butter, Hamm's tall boys and Bu$ted, and TNA! wrestling and a fresh set of batteries in the remote control (or if you prefer, a loaded pistol) the clip above from NWA World Wide Wrestling circa spring 1986 gives you Facebusterites the best of both worlds, a Mulkey (Bill) and a Thunderfoot (I'm not sure which, although IIRC the second Thunderfoot didn't burst onto the jobber scene until late 1986/early 1987) teaming up to take on who Jim Cornette and The Midnight Express presume to be The James Boys aka Dusty Rhodes and Magnum T.A. wrestling under masks for reasons I can't (1) exactly remember and (2) be bothered to research. Mulkey and Thunderfoot have their proverbial working boots on. In this writer's opinion, the bumps they take, selling they perform, and punishment they sustain in this contest should be compulsory viewing for any aspirant or budding talent enhancer.

The best part...the forcibly unmasked James Boys are actually jobbers too...Tony Zane and Sam Houston (who I suppose you could plausibly argue was more of a lower card babyface and master of the 10 minute time limit draw against lower card heels like Black Bart, Teijo Khan, and Shaska Whatley than a garden variety underneath worker), leading to a wild scrum at the end involving The Dream and Magnum.

Oh, the irony!

As an aside, this whole Dusty and T.A. vs. Midnight's kerfuffle eventually led to Cornette bashing Baby Doll in the stomach with the handle of his tennis racket, causing internal injuries so severe that she would never be able to have children. Seeing as how Baby Doll was knockin' bootz with The American Dream at the time, Arabian Facebuster wishes extend its thanks to eugenicist Jim Cornette for administering this grassroots method of birth control en gratis.

We are forever in your debt, kind sir.

1 comment:

Shirley Doe said...

Wrestling needs more pure jobbers. Take it from someone who has watched more Saturday Nights than he can stand.

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