A Lion's Tale_ Around the World in Spandex - Chris Jericho [82]
“So what you’re telling us,” Steve confirmed, “is if you guys break the rules—and you will—there will be two of Well Dunn versus one Thrillseeker.”
“Yeah, but if you guys break the rules,” Lance fired back, “it’ll be two Thrillseekers versus one Well Done!”
You put your chocolate in my peanut butter.
I decided I needed a big finishing line to drive my point home.
“We’re going to show you how we do things, the Canadian way,” I proudly proclaimed. Problem was we weren’t in Canada and we weren’t heels. We were babyfaces in Tennessee, flaunting our foreign roots in the middle of one of the most xenophobic regions in the country.
Cornette was convinced that the penalty box match was a great idea and pushed the concept hard on the TV shows leading up to the first one in Marietta, Georgia. Georgia was the heart of WCW country and Corny was convinced that SMW had arrived. “We’re going to stick it to WCW boys!” he bellowed before the show.
He’d arranged for Chris LiPuma, a goon from the Atlanta Knights minor league hockey team, to be the special guest ringside enforcer for the box matches. The pattern of the match was similar to how the fining system worked in Germany; one of the Well Dunns would cheat and the ref wouldn’t see it. One of the Seekers would retaliate, get caught, and be forced to sit behind the desk that was playing the part of the penalty box. There were times during the match that I wanted to get up and help Lance when he was being beaten two on one, but the power of the desk compelled me not to.
While the match was an interesting concept on paper, it was a stinker in execution. The idea was too unbelievable and the rules were too complicated to follow. The fans shit all over the match and it was a terrible way to debut a new, supposedly hot team. It was another nail in the Thrillseekers’ coffin.
The only thing that got a reaction from the fans was our finishing move, a double drop kick from the top rope. Both of us climbed up to the same top corner post and with perfect timing hit a high double drop kick. It was a spectacular and original move that I’ve never seen anybody do since.
Politically it wasn’t the smartest choice for a finish, as the Rock ’n’ Roll Express also used a double drop kick for their finishing move. The difference was they delivered theirs from the mat and connected about waist-high, if they even connected at all. But they were the top dogs in the company and as the number two pretenders to their throne, we had basically stolen their finish.
It was a breach of wrestling etiquette and a big rookie mistake. Nobody told us not to do it again, but rumors circulated that the Rock ’n’ Roll were furious and had buried us to the boss.
They were all smiles to our faces though. It was another of wrestling’s unwritten rules that when someone makes a mistake, nobody ever tells him about it. They just tell everybody else instead. It’s a confusing concept. I compare it to someone on a hockey team needing to work on their slapshot but never being told about it. Instead, the rest of the team is told and everyone gossips and laughs about the guy’s shitty slapshot behind his back. As a result he never gets better, gets cut from the team, and ends up selling fruit on the side of the road.
The Rock ’n’ Roll Express were an institution in the South and had earned a lot of money over the years. They were still earning a lot with their lucrative SMW gimmick sales.
Ricky Morton was one of the most underrated wrestlers of all time and one of the top three babyface sellers ever. He would get the shit kicked out of him every night and he made the girls and guys cry out in sympathy for him with his movements and facial expressions. He made them believe that he was in terrible pain and on his last legs. They would be on the edge of their seats begging for him to tag Robert, much the same way I begged for Greg Gagne to tag Jimmy Brunzell in the Winnipeg Arena. Ricky was small