T-MINUS TWENTY MINUTES...
"Cocktails, boys?" Don Vincenelli asked his men, hefting several glasses from the bar at the back of his luxury suite (with its lights turned out for security precautions) with a beautiful view overlooking the Silverdome.
"Sure thing, boss," several mobsters snatched up the glasses in a flash. "How's it looking now, Slick?" the don asked him at his computer nearby.
"We broke the record; five hundred million dollar plunked down now," Slick looked quite pleased.
"Very good. Lock in all bets as final in two minutes..."
There came a knock on the door. "It's Bruce Hart for the money," called the guard outside.
"Send him in," Don Vincenelli called. A somewhat nervous-looking Bruce entered the suite. "Ah, good to see you, Hart," the don greeted him, "And allow me to say thank you for giving us the tip on how to destroy Hogan's reign. Here's your reward; Patrizio," he asked his head bodyguard, who handed Bruce the suitcase, "That should be enough money to keep New Stampede alive for the next six months; we'll send you enough money to continue every six months after that."
"Uh, thanks," Bruce mumbled softly, not making eye contact, "Look, uh, it's not that I'm not grateful or anything but...I did ask that no one would get hurt, and then everything went to hell on the Funeral Parlor..."
"The Million Dollar Corporation came up with that on the fly, Hart; my hands are clean of that," Don Vincenelli told him, "Look at the positive here; you saved your company and kept the Stampede name alive for years to come; that's what you wanted, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, I guess it was," Bruce nodded, but he still looked uncertain, "Well, better run this out to the car before everyone starts getting suspicious..."
"Mr. Tunney's here, boss," the guard called from outside the suite again. Bruce frantically dove behind the bar with the suitcase moments before Tunney strode into the suite, stone-faced. "Well, Vincenelli, this is it," he told the crime lord firmly, "May the better man win...fairly, of course."
"Oh you know it, Tunney," the don shook Tunney's outstretched hand.
"And that includes no interference from any of your men here," Tunney gestured at the rest of the goons in the suite, "I'll be at ringside watching everything; any interference on your part, the deal's off, and I call the police."
"We won't get involved, Tunney, we swear on our lives," Don Vincenelli assured him. Tunney glared suspiciously at him, then turned to leave, stopping to give another glare to Slick at his console before exiting. Bruce waited a good twenty seconds before popping back up, mumbling a quick, "Thank you," to the mob boss, and leaving himself. Don Vincenelli closed the door. "Ready if needed, boys?" he asked his men.
"Yep," the mobsters all drew various firearms, "We're ready..."
T-MINUS FIFTEEN MINUTES...
"OK everyone, gather round," Bret asked the rest of the Rock 'n Wrestling Connection, waving them into a circle in the middle of the locker room, "Now, I'm sure we all know what's at stake here," he told them solemnly, "We know what we have to do; win the belts, or the mob gets the WWF and ruins it. So today, we're all fighting for wrestling fans all around the world who believe the way we do it is the right way."
"Amen," his teammates mumbled softly.
"Mob, Bret?" it was Owen, leaning his head around the nearest row of lockers, Neidhart behind him, "What about the mob?"
"This is bad, Owen; the WWF's in trouble," Bret put an arm around his brother and explained the story to him and the Anvil. "Well, that leaves just one thing left to do; win the titles, and beat their own guys so they can't profit," Neidhart declared firmly, "And you can bet, pal, that Owen and I are going to give the Rougeaus what they've had coming since they helped Jimmy humiliate us."
"See if you can, Jim. Join on in," the Hitman waved his brother and brother-in-law into the circle to clasp everyone else's hands. "You all know what to do," he told all of his teammates, "Ricky, just give it your best and don't let Perfect outflank you. Ray, Rude's probably going to try and provoke you during your match. Don't let him; you're strongest against him with a clear mind, even if he literally throws everything including the kitchen sink at you. Roddy, just keep an eye on everyone in DiBiase's corner, and stay focused on the match; his overconfidence is one of your best weapons. Tito, Martel's probably also going to be coming in overconfident, and perhaps a little angry to make up for you eliminating him at Survivor Series. Do the opposite of what I'm telling everyone else and try and get him mad enough to make a big mistake. Davey, just keep hitting the Undertaker with everything; he's a difficult case, but he's not unstoppable; no one's unstoppable. Andre, don't let the emotion of the moment get the better of you; if it starts to get overwhelming, don't be afraid to tag Tugboat in to deal with the other team. Randy, Liz...and you are looking lovelier than ever," he commended the First Lady of Wrestling, now decked out in a lovely ankle-length white dress with white arm-length gloves, matching Savage's white robe, "Again, whatever it ethically takes to win, do it, but don't stoop to Flair's level or give into the anger. Yes, he deserves to go down for treating Liz like trash, but focus on the match and don't let it get to you. We can do this, we can save the WWF, so let's all just give a hundred percent out there. OK, all in," he gestured for them to put their hands together in the middle of the circle, "On three: one, two, three..."
"LET'S GO DO IT!" they declared in unison and broke up. Bret sided alongside Owen and Neidhart once everyone else had started drifting off. "Actually, I think it's even worse than what I said publicly," he whispered somberly, "I talked to Wayne a few weeks back, and he mentioned that..."
"Good pep talk, amigo," Tito patted him on the shoulder, interrupted his revelation, "You're just as good as Hulk, actually. When his career does actually wind down, you'd probably be a good candidate to move into his spot as permanent leader."
"That would be nice, Tito, yeah; I want to win the world title some day myself, but patience is the way to go until my time comes," Bret told him, "You'd probably make a good champion too given the WWF's thinking of expanding into Mexico. Poor Hulk," he mused softly, "I hope he's holding up OK about not being able to make the pay-per-view..."
T-MINUS TEN MINUTES...
"There, there, Departures, that way!" Hulk waved Mrs. Kane wildly towards the ramp to the airport's departures' section.
"Please don't shout, Mr. Hogan!" she looked rather unnerved as she swerved around several slower cars, braking to a stop in front of the terminal. "Mr. Hogan, I repeat, Mr. Marella really should not be up and about so soon after being poisoned...!" the doctor in the back seat with the referee tried to reason with him.
"They're bound to have more medical stuff on the plane and at the Silverdome if we need it; come on!" Hulk dragged Marella out of the back seat and stumbled towards the terminal. "I don't see how you need us anymore," Mrs. Kane protested, following him with her son in tow, "And so you know, Timmy does have school tomorrow...!"
"Then he'll have a heck of a story to tell his classmates about how he was at WrestleMania; for wanting to cheer me up, he deserves that much. Detroit, Detroit, Detroit...!" Hulk quickly scanned the departure boards for any flights heading to the Motor City within a reasonable time from the present. "There, Continental, Gate Thirty-Three, five fifteen departure!" he exclaimed; that was just a little over a half hour away. He glanced around for the Continental desk, located it, and stumbled towards it. "Five tickets for the flight to Detroit, no baggage; what's the arrival time in Detroit?" he asked the woman at the counter.
"Barring any delays, one hour, forty-five minutes," she told him. Hulk did some mental calculations. "We just might make it in time," he mused. "Mrs. Kane, if you could; I don't have any money on me at the moment; I promise to pay you back," he asked her. Sighing, she nonetheless drew her credit card out of her purse and handed it to the clerk. "Don't be upset, Mom; this is going to be fun," Timmy seemed rather excited.
"Just so as long as you and I don't end up going to prison for taking Mr. Hogan and Mr. Marella out of the hospital for this," she mumbled worriedly.
"I'll vouch for you, Mrs. Kane, don't you worry about that," Hulk assured her, glancing back up at the departure board. The flight was still on time, but who knew how long it would be that way? The sooner they were on board and off, the better...
"OK people, we are two minutes to air," the director told the crew over his headset inside the production truck outside the Silverdome, "Gorilla, Jesse, give me a mike check."
"Testing, one, two, three, four, five," came Gorilla Monsoon's voice over the air.
"FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE; if you can't hear me, get another job!" shouted Jesse 'the Body' Ventura contemptuously.
"Maybe that's what you need to do, Jesse," the director rolled his eyes in disgust. "Mike check on you too, Vince," he called to the truck's audio booth, where Vince McMahon was seated with headphones on.
"One, two, three, four, five," McMahon said calmly, "I think this is going to be big, Phil, really big-of course, once I'm in charge of the WWF, it'll be even bigger."
"Sure, Vince, sure you're going to run the WWF some day," the director almost chuckled. "All right, camera operators, give me a go/no go for air. Camera One..."
"Go."
"Two?"
"Go."
"Three?"
"Go."
"Four?"
"Go."
"Five?"
"Go?"
"Six?"
"We're go, Phil."
"Seven?"
"We're go too."
"Eight?"
"Go."
"Handheld One?"
"Go."
"Handheld Two?"
"Go."
"AAAAAAAnd, Handheld Three?"
"Also go."
"OK, Audio?"
"Go, Phil," the chief audio technician spoke up inside the truck.
"Video?"
"Go."
"Switcher?"
"Go."
"Lighting?"
"Go."
"Satellite operator?"
"We are go, Phil," came the final affirmative. The director took a deep breath. "All right, give me black on the monitors; stand by, Vince, we're going in thirty seconds," he advised McMahon, "Number Two, get me the dome wide shot for the intro; Handheld One, focus on Mr. Tunney in the middle of the ring. Stand by everyone, we're at twenty seconds." He leaned forward on the control panel, his eyes glued to the countdown clock, "We are on in fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, hit the ID," he ordered the videotape operator, who hit the Play button on the primary VCR, prompting the appearance on the On Air monitor of the familiar footage of the WWF logo soaring over a desert lake and being struck by lightning over Okerlund's, "The World Wrestling Federation; what the WORLD is watching." "Three, two, one, hit the opening package, go, Vince!" he barked the opening order.
"IT'S TIME FOR WRESTLEMANIA!" McMahon roared grandly as the opening graphics for the broadcast burst onto the screen to the strains of the WrestleMania theme, "The World Wrestling Federation is proud to present the greatest event in all of wrestling; twenty-one terrific matches featuring the greatest WWF superstars in the entire world, including: Mr. Perfect defending the Intercontinental title against the determined Ricky 'the Dragon' Steamboat! Andre the Giant, in his farewell match, teaming up with Tugboat to face the maniacal Earthquake and Big John Studd! And it's a main event without compare, as World Wrestling Federation champion Ric Flair defends the title against the number one contender, 'Macho Man' Randy Savage! It's the greatest sporting spectacle of all time; IT'S WRESTLEMANIAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
"Cue the arena wide shot; key in the Silverdome and Live graphics," the director ordered, nodding in satisfaction at the opening shot, "All right, open Mr. Tunney's mike and give me the close-up."
Down in the ring, Tunney buried his nervous look under a warm smile as he stepped into the middle of the ring and stared with pride at the tens of thousands of cheering fans seemingly packing the Silverdome all the way to the rafters. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "Welcome to the beautiful Pontiac Silverdome. And welcome, one and all, to WrestleMania!"
He thrust his hand high in the air as columns of pyrotechnics shot in the air all around the ring like fountains. The crowd erupted in rapt applause. "At this time," Tunney continued, the smile now a natural one, "Would you all please rise and remove your hats for the singing of, 'America, the Beautiful...'"
"Do they really have to sing that stupid song?" a grumpy Frenchy Martin complained in the locker room, watching the opening footage on the nearest TV set, "It offends Dino and myself."
"Well, welcome to America, Frenchy," Jimmy told Dino Bravo's personal trainer with a shrug, "And so you know, you're not going to be doing Dino any favors carrying that to the ring," he frowned at the large sign in Frenchy's hands proclaiming U.S.A. IS NOT OK.
"You say America respects freedom of speech; thus, I have the freedom to say I hate them if I want," Frenchy countered.
"All right, but so you know, they're going to hit us with everything but the kitchen sink as we head to the ring. Ready, Dino?" the Mouth of the South asked the Canadian strongman, who was punching away at the punching bag in the corner of the locker room.
"You bet I am, Jimmy," Bravo declared loudly, giving the bag one last slug, "They're all going down hard!"
"That's what I want to hear, Dino. So, let's get going and start WrestleMania with a bang," Jimmy hefted his megaphone in one hand and the flag of Quebec from the corner with the other, just as the locker room door swung open. "Time, pal, let's get set," Blassie stuck his head in.
"You got it...wait, you're not managing in the opening match, Freddie," his colleague frowned.
"Oh yes I am," Blassie grinned, "I bought the contracts for Bigelow and Kamala-the Wizard wanted some time off, so I agreed to fill in for him in the near term-whoa, back there, big guy," he complained as the gigantic Kamala leaned in the doorway behind him, pushing him forward. Grunting, the safari-suited, Rorschach-masked Kim Chee also appeared and tapped the Ugandan Headhunter with his stick, making Kamala retreat. "Thanks, K.C.," the Classy One thanked his new man's handler, "Well, let's saddle up; our destiny awaits," he told Jimmy.
"You got it, Freddie. Let's go, men," the Mouth of the South led Bravo and Frenchy out the locker room door and took a sharp turn to the left. Directly ahead in the middle of the tunnel to the ring, a set of platforms flanked a pair of motorized ring carts designed to look like miniaturized wrestling rings. "This one, boys," Jimmy hopped up the stairs and climbed into the cart on the left, on which Bigelow was already standing with Muraco, Orton, and Fuji, who was wearing the kimono he usually wore when managing Yokozuna, but still had his trusty cane in hand. "Ah, Mr. Hart, so glad you and Mr. Bravo could join us for this match," the Devious One greeted him as Jimmy joined him at the front of the cart.
"Good luck, Mr. Bravo and all of you," the cart attendant wished the Canadian strongman and his teammates, locking the rear ropes into place once the entire team, managers included, were on the cart.
"I don't need luck; there's no way we're losing this match," Bravo predicted confidently.
"They're all going down hard with a loud BAM, BAM!" Bigelow added, punching hard at the air.
"You just hit them hard, Bigelow, and you'll go far with me," Blassie patted him warmly on the shoulder. "Did they clear that for you, Ace?" he asked Orton, seeing his arm was in a cast.
"Of course they did, and I plan to put it to good use," the Cowboy nodded firmly, "My boy's here tonight, and I'm not going to lose in front of him."
"No way, partner. Blassie, you got what I asked?" Muraco asked the manager.
"Yep, ask and you shall receive, Donnie," Blassie held up a plastic bag and handed it to Fuji, "Just try not to take a..."
There came a loud squawking sounding, followed by humming. "WEEEEEEELLL, black or white, rich or poor, come on everybody, and do the Bird some more!" Koko B. Ware was in fact singing his theme as he strutted around the corner, Frankie fluttering on his shoulder. "Ready to be humiliated in front of ninety thousand people, gents?" he jovially asked the opposing team as he hopped up onto the second ring cart.
"It's you who shall be humiliated, Birdman," Bravo thrust a finger into his face, "And after I'm done, your little pet's going to be Kamala's victory dessert."
Frankie squawked again and snapped his beak towards Kamala, who yelped in shock and menacingly raised his spear high over the parrot. "No, no, not now, big guy," Blassie tapped Kamala's arm with his cane, while Kim Chee simultaneously tapped it with his stick, making the Ugandan giant lower the spear, "After we win, then you can have parrot stew."
"No way, brother, Frankie and I and the rest of our team are going to win easy," Koko predicted, taking his parrot's perch off a stagehand next to the cart and placing it on the cart floor, "And the Birdman and his friends will fly to glory!"
"You tell him, chico," came Razor Ramon's voice from the around the corner. The Bad Guy looked cool and confident as he led the rest of Koko's team onto the cart. "You're all going down, chicos," he told the opposing team, "Because I got machismo, and so do all these gentlemen," he nodded warmly at his teammates, all while twisting the toothpick between his teeth, "And you've all got a big basket of nothing."
"Watch the mouth, buster; you don't want to make us mad!" Muraco threatened him, "We'll beat all of you so bad you'll be begging for mercy before we finish you off...!"
"We don't beg for mercy, and we don't go down without a fight, beach bum," the Tornado shot back, "Tonight's the biggest night in the history of wrestling, and we're going to be fighting like there's no tomorrow..."
"Stand by, all of you; your entrances are coming in about a minute," another aide called out, listening in to his headset...
"Take a look: a sea of humanity everywhere here in the Silverdome; we may set the world indoor attendance record tonight, as the World Wrestling Federation presents WrestleMania!" Monsoon proudly delivered his opening introduction to the broadcast, "Gorilla Monsoon here with Jesse 'the Body' Ventura, and what a card we've got tonight, including the main event, Randy Savage versus Ric Flair for the world title that was, for all intents and purposes, stolen off Hulk Hogan, who was then injured so severely he was unable to make a planned rematch for the title."
"Which was just what Hogan deserved, as I've said time and again," Ventura declared unapologetically, decked out in a multi-colored head scarf and a black leather jacket zipped all the way up, "The one thing I like best about this year's WrestleMania is no Hogan around to hog the spotlight. Now, I don't take anything away from the Macho Man, but I can guarantee right now, there's no way he's going to beat Ric Flair for the world title."
"We shall see about that. Intercontinental and tag titles also on the line tonight, with Mr. Perfect defending against Ricky Steamboat, and the Mega Mercenaries, the Iron Sheik and Nikolai Volkoff, defending against the Rockers. The Million Dollar Man Ted DiBiase is also putting his Million Dollar Belt on the line for the first time against 'Rowdy' Roddy Piper; for so long DiBiase has claimed his title is the best in the entire sport of wrestling, now we'll see how well he backs that bluster up."
"Oh you bet he's gonna back it up, Gorilla; finally, DiBiase will show the world how great a wrestler he is with a title on the line-and, let's not forget, he's got Virgil back in his corner for tonight's match."
"Virgil indeed back in his boss's corner with his month-long suspension for his involvement in the affair that got Ric Flair the world title now up; as I understand, he and Jimmy Hart will also be joined by Sensational Queen Sherri and one of the newest members of the World Wrestling Federation, Irwin R. Shyster of the I.R.S., whom I understand Ted DiBiase has trusted with his tax returns for years now. And also a bittersweet affair, as Andre the Giant's legendary career will come to an end in a tag team match consisting of he and Tugboat, to be managed tonight by Captain Lou Albano, to face Earthquake and Big John Studd, and for Andre, this is a chance to get a final bit of justice against both Earthquake for trying to break his leg last month and Studd for cutting his hair on national TV all those years ago."
"But it won't do him any good; Earthquake and Studd are the original Natural Disasters, and they are going to cause havoc on Tugboat and Andre, who might get crippled and shaved on his way out," the Body predicted.
"But rest assured Andre will not go down without a fight. A record twenty-one matches about to be contested tonight, including a big ten man match to start things off, so let's go down to ring announcer Howard Finkel with the opening announcement," Monsoon swung his seat forward as Finkel stepped into the middle of the ring over the bell ringing loudly. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is our opening bout of WrestleMania!" he declared proudly to a thunderous ovation, "It is a ten man tag match, scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, Team Number One."
Bravo's theme started playing over the Silverdome's loudspeakers as the Canadian Strongman's cart lurched through the curtains and down the aisle towards the ring. "At a total combined weight of 1,547 pounds," the announcer continued, "First, accompanied by their manager, Mr. Fuji, from Sunset Beach, Hawaii, the Magnificent Don Muraco, and, from Kansas City, Missouri, 'Cowboy' Bob Orton! Accompanied by their new manager, 'Classy' Fred Blassie, from Asbury Park, New Jersey, Bam Bam Bigelow, and, also accompanied by his handler, Kim Chee, from the deepest, darkest jungles of Uganda, Kamala! And, accompanied by his manager, the Mouth of the South, Jimmy Hart, and his personal trainer, Frenchy Martin, from Montreal, Quebec, Canada, weighing 265 pounds, here is Canada's, and by his own estimation, the World's Strongest Man, Dino Bravo!"
"A decided thumbs-down for this team here, although they appear oblivious to this; Dino Bravo waving his arms at the front of the cart, trying to get the fans to respect him just because he claims he's the world's strongest man..." Monsoon shook his head softly.
"What's this 'by his own estimation' nonsense; Bravo IS the world's strongest man," Ventura complained.
"He has yet to fairly prove that, Jesse. And it's clear the fans here in Detroit don't think he's number one either," Monsoon couldn't suppress a small smirk at the sight of the fans hurling scores of garbage at Frenchy's anti-American sign. "The rest of Dino Bravo's team also looking quite ready, including Bob Orton, despite the cast on his supposedly broken wrist..."
"What do you mean supposedly; he broke it good fighting Piper after the Royal Rumble, and he's been under doctor's orders that he has to wear it if he wants to keep wrestling," the Body countered.
"It may be that he has doctor's orders, but his injury did not look that bad when I got a look at it to warrant a cast being on it for this long, Jesse. And even you can't deny that Orton has misused that cast on at least one occasion since then..."
"Well I can promise he ain't gonna do anything illegal tonight, not with his kid here in the front row."
"Bob Orton in fact now climbing down off the cart with everyone else and going over to his wife and son to get some final good luck wishes from them; we do understand young Randy there wishes to be a wrestler like his father, and much as we here at the World Wrestling Federation disapprove of how his father conducts himself in the ring sometimes, we wish him all the best and hope he'll be able to join us here in the WWF when his time comes."
"Hey, he'd be a natural here, Gorilla; he's the scion of one of the best wrestling families out there."
"Indeed. Another good wrestling family happens to be the von Erichs, and right there a few places down from the Ortons, you can see the great Fritz von Erich, who if you tuned in earlier saw honored in the pre-show ceremony for the legends of the sport. And Fritz's son is of course a member of the opposite team in this match, who should be coming out any minute now..."
And indeed, it was at this moment that Bravo's theme switched to Koko's, and the second cart motored through the curtain to Finkel's announcement, "Their opponents are at a total combined weight of 1,295 pounds: from Denton, Texas, the Texas Tornado, Kerry von Erich! From Pembroke, North Carolina, Tatanka! From the Fiji Islands, 'Superfly' Jimmy Snuka! From Miami, Florida, Razor Ramon! And from Union City, Tennessee, the Birdman, Koko B. Ware!"
"Listen to this crowd go crazy for Team Number Two-and look at them throwing wooden WrestleMania nickels to the crowd; they appreciate the fan support they get every time they step into the ring," Monsoon grinned at the quintet's warm gesture for the fans.
"They're trying to bribe them, that's what they're doing," Ventura grumbled, "And if you think they deserve respect from anyone, you're a total dipstick."
"Now come on Jesse, give these guys some respect; many of them are top contenders for the Intercontinental title, and should get some shots at it following WrestleMania..."
"But like any of them really have a shot to win. This is as much a joke team as the Warrior's Survivor Series squad, which Koko and Snuka know all too well having been forced to be on it. And if they think they're going to do any better with the Great Indian Hype, Fritz's whiny kid, and the Not-So-Bad Bad Guy, they're even stupider than they let on."
"Again, Jesse, you take pot shots at Razor Ramon, even though when he first came here to the WWF, you praised him to the moon and beyond."
"Well, he tricked me, and all the wrestling fans out there; he's not the man I thought he was. And if he wants to be the spineless softy he is now, I still say he shouldn't call himself the Bad Guy anymore."
"And as I've said, he keeps the title for intimidation purposes, to let his opponents know he's not a pushover. Razor Ramon all smiles at the moment, high-fiving fans all around the ring; his teammates are doing the same, and handing out the last of their wooden nickels as well. Kerry von Erich taking a big hug from Fritz, who has to be savoring the moment, and yet probably wishing all of his sons could be here in the ring tonight on the biggest night in the history of the sport of wrestling. But he can take comfort knowing Kerry will be wrestling tonight for all of them. Tatanka also getting some warm support from a pair of other wrestling legends who were feted earlier, Chief Jay Strongbow and Wahoo McDaniel, who gave him the sacred ceremonial headdress he's wearing to ringside tonight; several other representatives of major Native American tribes are also here at ringside, visibly wishing Tatanka luck as well. Tatanka joining his teammates in the ring now; this was originally just slated to be Dino Bravo versus Koko B. Ware, but at the last minute, Jack Tunney apparently decided that since this was going to be the biggest night in the history of wrestling, more guys should have a shot at glory, so he expanded this to a ten man match and filled up the teams with the highest-ranked remaining contenders on the WWF roster..."
"And if he thought a no talent hack like Ware or an over the hill bum like Snuka qualify as top talent, his screws are loose too."
"Will you stop!? Koko sliding Frankie out onto his ringside perch..."
"And that overgrown pigeon better not interfere on Koko's behalf in this match; he should be shot on sight if he does, or run through with Kamala's spear."
"Now come on, Jesse; has Frankie ever once left his perch during his master's matches?"
"There's a first for everything, Gorilla..."
"There goes the bell, but it appears not everyone's out of their ring clothing yet," Monsoon ignored him, "Each team going into a huddle, going over last-minute advice with each other. Finally it looks like we're set, and...uh oh, look out, we're going to start with Snuka against Muraco; these two hate each other with a passion, so perhaps this is fitting that WrestleMania will start like this. Both men glaring each other down; Muraco yelling what sounds like very derogatory anti-Fijiian insults at Snuka-look out, Razor Ramon throws his toothpick at the Magnificent One from the apron, and an enraged Muraco charges him and starts swinging at the Bad Guy!"
"That's terrible; Ramon ought to know Muraco deserves a lot more respect than that! The man's a two time Intercontinental champion for the love of God, and if Razor Ramon thinks he's going to get that gold for any amount of time...!"
"I think Don Muraco deserves no respect at all, Jesse, and I happen to think Razor Ramon has more than enough potential to hold the Intercontinental belt as long as if not longer than Muraco should he get the chance. For now, though, the Magnificent One cheap shotting Razor Ramon, screaming that he should be respected-and the Superfly pulls him off his partner and gives him a big body slam; WrestleMania is officially underway!"
"And what a terrible start, with Muraco being double teamed before the match even starts!"
"You call that a double team, Jesse? Jimmy Snuka pounding away on Don Muraco, wanting to settle the score once and for all with the man who's insulted him to no end here in the WWF. Snuka hurls Muraco hard into the corner, here comes the big splash-right on target. Snap suplex on Muraco and a beauty; Snuka jumps on the Magnificent One's back, now whips him into the ropes and flattens him with a hard forearm smash. Snuka off the ropes himself...whoa, just as I thought, Orton nails him from behind with the cast; referee did not see it!"
"Well, he can't call what he can't see, Gorilla."
"Muraco with a tag to his partner Orton, and Ace with a hard right hook with his good hand, and now takes Snuka down with a dropkick off the ropes. Superfly crawling to his corner, and a tag to the Tornado. Texas Tornado sizes the situation up, bounces off the ropes and launches himself at Orton, who picks him up, whoa, backbreaker and a beauty. Orton going up to the top rope, he's raising the cast over his head, and that prompts a warning from referee Dave Hebner..."
"You mean, Gorilla, the referee we think is Dave Hebner; it might be Earl sneaking back in..."
"Don't start, Jesse. The referee who is in fact very much Dave Hebner yelling at Orton that he'd better not use the cast as a weapon unless he wants his team tossed. Orton looking frustrated, but here he comes, down hard on the Tornado's chest. Ace hooks the leg: one, two...no. Orton twisting Kerry's arm, trying to wear him down. Tornado grimacing in pain...no, wait, he swings the legs up and hooks around Orton's neck, and he's got him down in a crucifix! One, two...Kamala in to make the save. Orton stretches out and tags in the Ugandan Headhunter the moment he steps back through the ropes..."
"That's good strategy there; keep the tags coming as quickly as possible so you keep circulating fresh guys in there."
"Kamala with a huge overhand blow that sends Kerry von Erich down to the mat-and now another big roundhouse right. Whoa oh, the big guy lifts the Tornado up by the throat and hurls him halfway across the ring! Kamala looking to his new manager Freddie Blassie for advice; the Hollywood Fashion Plate telling him, it appears, to break the Tornado's back. Kamala charges across the ring, whoa, jumps hard on the Tornado's back, and now he hooks the neck on the ropes and jumps on the back again!"
"I love it; you and McMahon call Kamala a mindless savage, but he's smarter than you give him credit for."
"Kamala holding the ropes, pressing his full weight down on the Texas Tornado, who hasn't really been putting up any offense so far in this one..."
"No one on his team has; didn't I say they were outclassed in this one?"
"Kamala jumps on the back again, and now he's climbing the ropes; are we going to see an Air Africa already? Kamala perched high above the ring, here he comes-Tornado rolls out of the way in time! Kerry von Erich stumbles to his corner and tags in the Birdman; Koko B. Ware charges straight at Kamala and rams the Ugandan Giant head-first in the chest...but Kamala grabs the head and gives him a headbutt..."
"Positive proof the Birdman is a birdbrain for thinking that would work."
"Will you stop!? Kamala swings another mighty punch-Koko ducks it and look out, he picks him up and slams him back-first into the corner! Koko up on Kamala's shoulders, punching away! Blassie yelling at the big guy to get out of there; Kamala looking dazed as he stumbles out of the corner; his teammates are extending their hands towards him-Koko off the top rope, connects with the elbow, sending Kamala sprawling to the mat..."
"But he tags Bam Bam in on the way down, and that's a legal tag."
"Indeed it is; Bam Bam Bigelow with a hard blow to the Birdman's back before he can get back up, and now he throws in a headbutt of his own. Abdominal stretch applied; Koko grimacing, trying to fight it. Blassie yelling for Bam Bam to not let up, and Bam Bam indeed pouring it on. Referee asking Koko if he wants to give up; Birdman shaking his head firmly. Bam Bam relents, kicks Koko in the face, now whips him into the ropes, and whoa, flying headbutt takes him down again! Bigelow with the cover: one, two...just missed the three there. Bam Bam with a hard right hook to Koko's face, going up to the top rope now and nodding; I think he's going to try a diving headbutt now. Bigelow jumps-and Koko jumps out of the way! And there's the tag to Razor Ramon, who flexes his muscles hard as he climbs into the ring. Razor Ramon with a hard right cross to Bigelow's face, followed by a left, and a right, and a left, and another right!"
"See, this proves just how predictable the So-Called Bad Guy really is; his arsenal is so limited..."
"Ramon gives Bigelow an atomic drop; he's on fire right now!" Monsoon ignored his partner again, "Bam Bam rushes to his own corner and tags in Dino Bravo; Canada's self-proclaimed strongest man swings a right hook of his own, but Razor Ramon blocks it and takes him down with a leg sweep and starts twisting the leg. Bravo grimacing, trying to get to the ropes-and look at that, a cheap shot kick with the other leg right in the boilerplate!"
"Yeah, I know, Gorilla; anything Bravo ever does is cheap to you."
"Well you know kicking people there's against the rules, Jesse! But of course, why would you care; you always cheap shotted your opponents when you were wrestling too, so of course you'd support this. Bravo then following that up with an equally cheap raking of Razor's eyes, and now a hip toss sends him across the ring. The Canadian Strongman flexing his muscles and giving Razor a leg drop, as our cameras now show a far more famous Canadian, the immortal Stu Hart, frowning there in the front row with the rest of the extended Hart family; Stu Hart has often come out and said that he considers Dino Bravo a disgrace to Canadian wrestlers everywhere, and it's clear he disapproves of Bravo's tactics at the moment as well."
"Well, if he doesn't like it so much, why doesn't he get into the ring and fight Bravo like a man!?"
"He doesn't have to; Razor Ramon with a monkey flip, and Bravo goes flying hard into the ringpost when he tries another leg drop! The Bad Guy getting back to his feet, grabs Bravo by the shoulders, and here's a neckbreaker, and a beauty! Razor Ramon going up to the top rope, he measures Bravo, and here he comes...bullseye! Hooks the leg: one, two...Muraco in to make the save. Ramon nonplussed, hot shot in the breadbasket, whips Bravo into the ropes, and a tremendous dropkick takes him down again. Jimmy Hart shouting at his man to tag out through that cursed megaphone of his, and Bravo trying to get to his corner...no, Ramon drags him back into the ring, and here comes a big suplex-yes! The Bad Guy strutting confidently now, drops the elbow hard on Bravo, and now here comes a backbreaker too. Dino Bravo looking outclassed and completely gassed, and now he gets flung into the ropes again; Razor jumps over Bravo on the rebound, jumps over him again, and another dropkick sends Bravo flying clean out of the ring! Razor Ramon pumping his fists in victory; listen to the Silverdome go bananas!"
"Hey, he ain't won anything yet, so why don't they save it till he does!?"
"Frenchy Martin helping Dino Bravo up, looks like they're having a consultation on why everything seems to be going wrong at this point...but they're not going to finish it; Razor Ramon yanks the Canadian Strongman back up on the apron, and look out, suplexes him back into the ring! Ramon tags Tatanka in, and the both of them fling Bravo into the ropes again-they both flatten him with a double forearm smash."
"Now this time the Bad Guy is the bad guy; if he's so nice now, why does he have to double team!?"
"It was only the one move; Razor Ramon climbing out of the ring now, and Tatanka setting to work on Dino Bravo, with a big scoop slam. Bravo looking totally dazed, crawling around on the mat; he has no idea where his corner is. Tatanka off the ropes, and a diving splash on him from behind. Hauls Bravo up, and gives him one of those patented tomahawk chops-and now another one..."
"Bravo better tag out quick; he's taken an awful lot of punishment in the last few minutes."
"He's been trying to, but the other team's been smart enough not to let him. Tatanka whips him into the ropes, and a third tomahawk chop to the face sends Bravo reeling. Now he gets thrown into the opposite ropes, Tatanka grabs the head, and whoa, slams it down hard to the mat; listen to them going crazy here! Tatanka going off the ropes himself...and look at that, Orton nails him in the back of the head with his cast too; referee didn't see that either!"
"Well, I say give Orton credit; he came prepared for this one."
"He shouldn't have been allowed anywhere near the ring if he was going to keep using that cast as a weapon, and I hope his kid takes him to task for it afterwards! Dino Bravo stumbling to the ropes, and finally a tag to the Magnificent Muraco, who flexes his muscles confidently; looks like he's asking Fuji to open that bag he brought with him. Don Muraco oozing confidence, whips Tatanka hard into the corner, and here comes a big splash on him. And now a chokehold locked on; Hebner can't see it-wait, now he does, and he orders Muraco to let go. Muraco throws up his hands, feigning ignorance to the ref...and behind their backs, Orton choking Tatanka out with the turnbuckle rope; give me a break!"
"You see, these two work wonderfully together, Gorilla. If Fuji wanted to get a second tag team to complement the Orient Express, he ought to formally put Muraco and Orton together; they're practically a tag team these days anyway."
"A pair of miscreants is more like it. Muraco with a hard chop to Tatanka's face..."
"Now that's payback for all the chopping Tatanka did to Bravo earlier; this is a good example of teammates sticking up for each other."
"Oh really!? Snap suplex takes Tatanka down; Muraco walking over to Fuji, who's got...that looks like a meatball sandwich he's got there. And Muraco taking a bite; give me a break!"
"Well, if the man's hungry, might as well have a snack."
"Not during a match! And this is extremely disrespectful to Tatanka, by the way."
"Well, Tatanka could have brought along a bison burger or something if he was hungry; then they'd be even."
"Will you stop!? Muraco with a hard kick to Tatanka's chest, and another hard slap to the face-and now he's going over for another bite, and a swig of the soda it looks like Fuji brought too. Tatanka charging over, looks like he's going for a forearm smash...come on, Muraco turns and spits a mouthful of soda in his face!"
"Now you can't protest that, Gorilla; he did Tatanka no harm there."
"He blinded him for the moment; that's not harmless! Tatanka trying to wipe the soda out of his eyes, but Muraco grabs him by the hair and smashes his face several times into the turnbuckle. A low kick, and now a short clothesline takes the Native American Warrior down again, and Muraco over for another bite of the sandwich. Don Muraco chewing his impromptu meal, setting Tatanka up for a snap suplex-spot-on. Muraco kicking him contemptuously in the chest, and now he picks him up and starts turning him over; he's setting him up for a piledriver now..."
"Yep, the patented Muraco Hammer, which has finished an awful lot of men here in the WWF-and did you hear that, Gorilla; he just shouted that he was dedicating it to me tonight for supporting him all these years. I'm touched."
"Don Muraco dedicating his piledriver to Jesse the Body, and now he's pumping his fist excitedly, and there goes the so-called Muraco Hammer. Muraco with the cover, but it's an awful nonchalant one-and Tatanka kicks out at two and a half. Muraco looking frustrated that the piledriver couldn't end this, throws Tatanka hard into the corner; now it's Tatanka's turn to have been in there a long time."
"Turn about's fair play, you know."
"There's nothing fair about being whipped by a guy who's so disrespectful of you, he has to eat and wrestle you at the same time. The sandwich now set down on the apron by Fuji, and Muraco setting Tatanka up for another pile-no, Tatanka with a shot to the chest, and now another, and another tomahawk chop sends Muraco reeling! Tatanka grabs Muraco, picks him up, and hooks him into position on his back; I think he's going to give him the Papoose...but from behind, Orton into the ring and dropkicks him down to the mat, and Muraco's got the shoulders down! One, two...not quite."
"You sure? That looked awful close to me."
It was only two, Jesse, trust me. Tatanka with a dropkick of his own, sending the Magnificent One down, and here he goes towards his corner, trying to tag...and Kamala into the ring and jumps on his back, stopping him inches from the ropes. Referee right in Kamala's face, ordering him to get out...and behind his back, in comes Orton again, and he and Muraco lift Tatanka up and give him a double backbreaker! Turn around, ref!"
"Hey, he don't have eyes in the back of his head, Gorilla; he's too busy trying to get Kamala out."
"Kamala not budging, still shouting at Dave Hebner in whatever his actual language is, and behind the referee's back, Bob Orton planting Tatanka on the top rope; he's setting him up for a superplex. Tatanka's teammates shouting for Hebner to turn around and see that Orton's in the ring illegally, but no dice, as Tatanka gets superplexed hard to the canvas. Mr. Fuji waving for Muraco and Orton to bring Tatanka over, and the two of them dragging his head under the ropes-and Fuji nails him in the throat with his cane! Orton finally climbs out of the ring now, right as Hebner finally gets Kamala out. Don Muraco oozing confidence, a hard chop to Tatanka's face, and another low kick! Referee warning him he's pressing his luck; Muraco appears to be blocking him out as he flings a dazed Tatanka into the ropes again, pins himself against the far ropes-and he kicks him right in the throat! Tatanka gasping for breath; the fans here heaping down a tremendous booing on Muraco for that dirty move...and as if it couldn't get dirtier, Muraco flips the fans the bird! We apologize to all you younger viewers for that, and assure you Don Muraco's personal beliefs do not represent the beliefs of the World Wrestling Federation..."
"Liar," Ventura coughed with no subtlety. Monsoon glared at him. "In the meantime, Muraco still going to work on Tatanka, kicking him hard on the back, and now a backbreaker, and a beauty. The Magnificent One with a scoop slam, and now going off the ropes himself...look out, he slipped on the sandwich!" he roared to be heard over the wildly laughing crowd in the Silverdome. For Muraco had failed to see his sandwich on the apron and had slipped on it, falling flat on his back, "Don Muraco just humiliated himself in front of at least ninety thousand people," Monsoon was fighting hard not to laughing himself, "And while he's down, Tatanka stumbling towards his corner; in comes Orton to try and cut him off-no dice, Tatanka tags the Superfly! Jimmy Snuka shoves Orton asides, storms towards Muraco, who's still stumbling trying to get to his feet, and jumps right on top of him. A very fresh Superfly whaling away on his longtime nemesis...and now he grabs the rest of the sandwich and shoves it down Muraco's throat; they're going crazy in here again!"
"This is terrible; this is utterly humiliating to Muraco! Hebner should DQ Snuka's team right now for this!"
"For what? Snuka throws Muraco hard into the corner, and a big splash on him. Snuka up on his shoulders, punching away: three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Drops to his back and flips Muraco over his head, and now he's climbing up to the top rope. Superfly perched high above Muraco, fingers raised in the air, and here he comes...down hard on the chest! Hooks the leg: one...in comes Bam Bam, and he leaps over Snuka...Snuka out of the way, and he lands on top of Muraco! Snuka tags Koko, and the Birdman going up to the top rope himself. He leaps, and down goes Muraco again! The Magnificent One getting more than a taste of his own medicine now-and Koko lifts him up and turns him over! He's setting him up for the Ghostbuster...from behind, Bravo plows into his back before he could deliver it! Muraco crawling to his corner, and the tag to Kamala..."
"Koko's in for it now; the Ugandan Headhunter's easily a match for him."
"We shall see. Ware going back to the top rope, measure Kamala and jumps..."
"...right into the big guy's arms," the Body snickered, "And here comes a big slam from Kamala-oh yeah!"
"Kamala with the cover: one, two...just missed. Kamala with another huge chop to Koko's back, now he picks him up-oh no, drops him throat-first on the ropes! Kamala kicking Koko hard, and there he throws him clean out of the ring. Kamala raising his hands in apparent victory; he hasn't won anything yet, though...and now he's staring intently at Frankie out on his perch outside the ring. Blassie shouting at him to go finish Koko, but the Ugandan Headhunter appears transfixed by the parrot...here he comes, and oh no, he snatches Frankie up! Kamala opening his mouth; he couldn't honestly be thinking of eating Frankie in front of ninety thousand people!? Wait, Koko climbing back into the ring, he makes a quick tag to Razor Ramon, here they come, and a double dropkick makes Kamala let go of Frankie!"
"MORE double-teaming by these guys; they never know when to stop!"
"Koko B. Ware climbing out of the ring, calling Frankie over; his pet appears to be all right despite Kamala's manhandling of him. Koko looking relieved, setting Frankie back on his perch, while Razor Ramon whales away on Kamala in the ring. And now the Bad Guy going up to the top rope, and a diving chop staggers Kamala! Another dropkick sends him reeling into the ropes, and he's locked up in them; Razor Ramon with a kick to the chest..."
"Again, proving he can still be the real bad guy when he wants to; there's nothing sporting about this!"
"Freddie Blassie and Kim Chee freeing Kamala, who tags Dino Bravo in-and Bravo immediately suplexed by Ramon! Razor drops the elbow hard into his chest, and now tags in the Texas Tornado. Kerry von Erich off the ropes and hits the...no, Bravo rolls out of the way. He hauls the Tornado up and sets him up for a short clothesline...no, the Tornado reverses and slaps on the von Erich Claw! Fritz on his feet in the front row, clapping hard and urging his son on. Dino Bravo starting to sink to his knees...here comes Bam Bam into the ring...Kerry hears his teammates' cries and jumps out of the way, and Bam Bam collides with his partner! Kerry von Erich slams Bravo into Bigelow again, sending Bam Bam over the ropes and out of the ring, and now throws Bravo into the ropes...and nails him with the Tornado Punch! Dino Bravo crumples to the mat; Texas Tornado hooks the leg: one, two, three!"
The Silverdome erupted in cheers. "What a start here to WrestleMania, as the Fabulous Fivesome high five in the middle of the ring; all of these guys have a good future ahead of them here in the WWF if they play their cards right," Monsoon declared grandly.
"They got lucky, that's all I have to say," Ventura muttered.
"Luck has nothing to do with it. Let's take a look at the replay; Bam Bam Bigelow's attempted interference backfires, and gives the Texas Tornado the chance to hit his finisher and end this match with a bang. Kerry climbing out of the ring and embracing a very happy Fritz; while the rest of his teammates go out to congratulate the fans as well..."
In the front row, Helen extended Dallas forwards towards Koko as he climbed out of the ring. "Mr. Ware, can I have your autograph?" he asked the Birdman, extending his program.
"You got it, little man," Koko eagerly took the boy's pen and signed his name. "And one from Frankie too," he lowered the parrot onto the program, where Frankie dug his claws into the page in question, leaving holes for an "autograph." "You guys want to sign too?" he called to his teammates.
"Sure thing, Koko," the Superfly called back. He and the rest of his teammates, excluding Ramon, who was signing autographs on the other side of the ring, bustled over and added their signatures to the program as well. "Take care, little guy," the Birdman rubbed Dallas's hair, then picked up Frankie's perch and led his teammates back towards their cart. "Good start, isn't it?" Helen rubbed her grandson's hair, "Maybe you'll get everyone else's autograph before the night's over."
"Well I don't want Jake's, not with him fighting Daddy and saying he's going to hurt him," Dallas confessed.
"Well, if you could trick him out of it somehow, maybe it'll be worth it, since I think Jake's autograph'll be worth a lot some day," Larry leaned over and smiled at the boy. The bell rang for the next match. "The following contest is scheduled for one fall," Finkel announced, "Coming down the aisle. from Harlem, New York, weighing 255 pounds, Bad News Brown!"
"Doesn't he ever smile?" Wayne mused, watching the scowling Bad News on his fast-approaching cart, "I think his default mood is simmering anger anymore."
"Well why shouldn't he be upset; Tunney's held him back from the start," Smith complained.
"Tunney's not the problem, Smith; if Brown could manage better people skills, maybe he'd be higher up on the card than he is," his brother countered.
"Well he's bound to move up the card tonight; no way Hillbilly can beat him," the oldest Hart child grumbled, "This should be quick and easy for Bad News."
"We'll see, here he comes now," Ross rose to his feet and applauded, as did the entire Silverdome, at the sight of the second cart emerging through the curtains to the announcement, "His opponent, from Mudlick, Kentucky, weighing 319 pounds, Hillbilly Jim!"
"Big support from the fans here in Detroit for Big Jim," Monsoon leaned forward in his seat in anticipation as the Southerner's cart skidded to a stop by the ring, "The man from Mudlick has been looking forward to this match for a while now, and look, he's clearly pumped up as he climbs up into the ring..."
"Yeah, I know; any chance to make a fool of himself with that stupid dance...whoa, Bad News clotheslines him out of the ring from behind, I love it!" Ventura exclaimed at Brown throwing the cheap shot blow from behind, "Now there's someone who's ready for the match, not like Hillbilly."
"Bad News Brown out of the ring, throws Hillbilly Jim back in, slingshots himself through the ropes and comes down hard on him. Blatant chokehold by the man from Harlem; referee Gilberto Roman warning him to break it. Bad News screams at him to shut up, throws Hillbilly into the corner, hard splash on him, and another chokehold slapped on..."
"Hey, he's got till five to break it, Gorilla."
That's a lot longer than five, Jesse. Hard slap across the face by Bad News, throws Hillbilly Jim out of the ring again, Brown off the apron and delivers an axhandle to the back of the head..."
"Shut your damn cakeholes, you beer-bellied sharecroppers!" Brown angrily bellowed at the fans booing him in the front row. He slammed his opponent hard into the ring post, threw him back into the ring, climbed up to the top rope, and dive-bombed the Southern good old boy. "Complete domination by Bad News Brown in this one so far," Monsoon conceded, "Hauls Hillbilly Jim up, Irish whip into the ropes-and he nails the Ghetto Blaster! Bad News with the cover: one, two, three, that's it."
"I called it, Gorilla, didn't I say beforehand that Bad News would dominate this one!?" the Body demanded.
"You had mentioned as much, yes, and I suppose credit to Bad News Brown on a dominant win. Bad News thrusting his fist skyward in victory; perhaps this will in fact move him up the rankings..."
"I earned a title shot! I demand a title shot!" Brown shouted furiously at the top of his lungs into the camera at ringside after climbing out of the ring, "And if I don't get it in one week, I'll beat the every living hell out of everyone employed here in the WWF!"
He grabbed the camera and hurled it to the ground emphasize his point. "Wipe that damn frown off your face, you old coot, and honor the winner!" he threatened a frowning Stu before stomping off down the aisle. Stu shook his head. "With an attitude like that, he doesn't deserve any honor, winner or not," he said to everyone else.
"Anyway, Angelo my friend, it looks like Lanny's boys are up next against the Steiners," Larry looked at his program, "I think they have a pretty good chance here."
"Well, I'd say advantage, push," Angelo admitted hesitantly, "Looking at the Beverlies and the Steiners, it seems an even match, and even with Lanny in Beau and Blake's corner, there's still the matter of the Steiners' home field advantage here in Detroit. Still, the Beverlies may just have it; we'll just have to wait and see."
"Well, it's not much of a wait, Mr. Poffo; here they come now," Wayne pointed down the aisle to the next cart coming forward to the strains of the Beverlies' theme, and Finkel's announcement, "The following contest is a tag team match, scheduled for one fall. Coming down the aisle with their manager, 'the Genius' Lanny Poffo, from Shaker Heights, Ohio, at a total combined weight of 514 pounds, here are Beau and Blake; the Beverly Brothers!"
"I'll admit I do like their attire, Mr. Poffo," Georgia confessed, staring at the Beverlies' bright purple capes and shooting star-emblazoned tights, "But I also agree with what you said earlier about them being rather brutal and uncaring."
"Well, let's hope Lanny's managed to tone them down without losing their competitive edge; since he's managing, I'll be rooting for them against my judgment," Angelo turned to the aisle as the cart slid to a stop right next to his seat. "Dad, great to see you got a great seat!" Lanny, bedecked in a professor's suit and carrying a metal scroll, was beaming as he hopped down to give his father's hand a vigorous pumping, "We're making history tonight!"
"Hope so, Lanny; good luck," Angelo forced a smile, then frowned at Beau and Blake Beverly as they trudged past him without looking at him. Lanny held the ropes for his men, who proudly and defiantly spread their capes wide inside the ring, then walked over to Finkel and whispered in his ear. "And now, ladies and gentlemen," the ring announcer declared, "A reading of some poetry by the Genius."
Lanny took the microphone and hefted his scroll. "WrestleMania Day is here at last; the greatest sporting day of all," he read grandly off it, "Ninety thousand of us here and millions around the world have come and heeded the WWF's call. And greatest of all is I the Genius; the one who holds the key. So behold the wonder of the future tag team champs, Beau and Blake; the Brothers Beverly!"
"Not half bad," Stu mused, nodding, "I hear he's a bit of a pro at poetry, Angelo."
"He is, yes; it was part of his gimmick in ICW, although I don't know how well it might translate here in the WWF," Angelo turned back to the aisle at the sound of a tremendous cheer from the crowd triggered by the playing of the University of Michigan's fight song and Finkel's next announcement: "Their opponents, from right here in Detroit, Michigan, at a total combined weight of 533 pounds, here are Rick and Scott; the Steiner Brothers!"
"Listen to the ovation here for the Steiners; the crowd really giving the hometown boys a warm welcome!" Monsoon declared in amazement at the reaction.
"Well is it that, or is it because the Beverlies are from Ohio; we all know that up here in Michigan, they hate everybody from Ohio," Ventura queried.
"Nope, this is for real, I'm sure of it. Steiners now disembarking from the ring cart and greeting the people all around the ring-and now a hug to Mom and Dad and their sister..."
"Come on, this is a wrestling match, not a family reunion; get in the ring and let's get on with this!" Ventura complained.
"Will you stop!? Steiners in fact now climbing into the ring, a high five there with each other; the Beverlies shouting at them to stop wasting time and get the match going..."
"Well I can't blame them, Gorilla; time is money, even in the world of professional wrestling, and the Beverlies can't wait forever after they trained so hard for this match."
"There goes the bell, and it looks like it'll be Rick Steiner, once he finishes adjusting his headgear there, starting off against Blake Beverly. This will be the first of three straight matches with a competitor named Rick, as Rick Martel and Rick Rude will be participating in the next three contests scheduled on the card."
"And believe me, Gorilla, if the Steiners happen to get lucky here and pull the upset-which I'll admit I have my doubts about-it could be a three-peat for the Ricks. But the Beverly Brothers have more than shown themselves to be a team to be reckoned with so far here in the WWF, and it'll take everything the Steiners have to try and topple Beau and Blake. The Beverlies in fact remind me of an old favorite tag team of mine, the Minnesota Destruction Crew, tag champs for over a year in the territories. I wonder whatever happened to those guys?"
"Who knows? Rick Steiner overpowering Blake Beverly to start things off here, pushing him down to the mat and now slugging away at his chest. A lot on the line here, as the winner of this one will undoubtedly gain an inside track to get a title shot against whoever's holding the belts after tonight, be it the Rockers or the Mega Mercenaries."
"So therefore, you can bet both teams are going to do whatever it takes to win this one to get that higher ranking."
"Indeed, and right now, it's Rick Steiner with the edge, giving Blake Beverly a tremendous suplex in the middle of the ring. Rick off the ropes, goes airborne, and comes down hard on Blake's chest. A tag to Scott, who immediately heads up to the top rope; interesting strategy here. Blake trying to squirm away, but Scott comes down...right on his chest. Hooks the leg: one, two...Beau in to make the save. Scott hauls Blake up, whips him into the ropes, swings a...no, Blake blocks the punch-so Scott grabs the arm and twists it. Blake moaning in agony as Scott applies the pressure, trying to wear him down. Scott pressing hard-now pushes him away and jerks him back for a clothesline. Tag back to Rick; the older Steiner Brother whips Blake to the corner, charges in and elbows him in the head..."
"Blake's gotta tag; he's getting a beating in there now."
"Beau at the moment too far out of his brother's reach, and Blake now getting whipped into the opposite corner as well. The Genius Lanny Poffo shouting encouragement to his man, but so far, no good-and now Rick gives him a neckbreaker, and a beauty. Rick off the far ropes-and Beau kicks him in the back; give me a break!"
"Just looking out for his brother, Gorilla, same as you and I would if we had any."
"Blake stumbling towards his corner and finally a tag to Beau; Beau grabs Rick by the shoulder and shoves him backwards into the turnbuckle, rushes him-nobody home! Rick rushes across the ring and tags Scott in; we again take a look at the rest of the Steiner family there in the front row, anxiously watching all the action unfolding in the squared circle."
"Well they can't do a thing about it, since unlike the Genius, they're not licensed to be in the Steiners' corner."
"We're all very away of that, Jesse. Scott Steiner with a series of blows on Beau..."
"Now that has a nice ring to it, 'blows on Beau...'"
"Will you stop!? Don't start with all that nonsense the Brain does when I have to work with him! Scott sends Beau into the far ropes, set up for...whoa, Beau grabs the head and slams him down face first to the mat!"
"Scott made a cardinal mistake there; he dropped the head and took his eyes off Beau."
"Beau now joining his brother in the corner as the Genius draws up...uh, your guess at home as to what he's drawing up is as good as mine," Monsoon frowned at the hardcore mathematical diagram Lanny was drawing up on his scroll that was visible in a close-up on his monitor. Lanny held up the equation to his men, who nodded firmly. Beau strode back over to Scott, hauled him up just before he could get to his feet, dragged him towards the corner, where Blake was waiting with his foot up, and rammed Scott's head into his brother's boot. Beau then took Scott by the arm, hurled him into the far corner, grabbed his arm again, and flung him all the way across the ring back into Blake's boot a second time. "Beverly Brothers taking advantage here, and Scott looking rather dazed as Beau drapes him over the bottom rope-and starts jumping on his back; come on! A tag to Blake, who hoists Scott over his head...and look at this, Beau going up to the top rope; he can't legally do anything!"
"How do you know, Gorilla; the plan the Genius drew up might just be perfectly legal."
"You know how tag team matches work; Beau tagged out, so he cannot get back in until the next time he's tagged in-but here he comes down, smashing Scott flat to the mat!" Monsoon groaned in disgust, "Beau back out before referee Terry Yorkston can realize what just happened; Blake with several hard chops to Scott's neck, now whips him into the ropes and down him with a dropkick. A cover: one, two...no. Blake with a backbreaker, goes off the ropes, and a hard punch to Scott's throat; he's risking a DQ here with those chops."
"So, they're not illegal per se, Gorilla."
"They can cause serious damage! Blake tagging his brother in; Beau lifting Scott up-and drops him throat-first on the ropes; this is getting ridiculous! Scott swinging back and connecting with a few roundhouse rights...uh oh, Genius up on the apron and doing cartwheels for whatever reason; referee Yorkston yelling at him to stop it and get down...and Blake comes back in and helps Beau double-team Scott; give me a break! Blake back out before the referee turns around; Beau turns Scott over, and here comes a piledriver-yes. Rick trying to shout encouragement to his brother, but Scott taking an awful pounding here lately. Beau lifts him up in a bear hug, runs towards the ringpost, and rams his back hard into it. Scott looking dazed, stumbling along the ropes, trying to find his corner; Beau grabs him before he can get there, twisting his arms behind his back-and Scott with a kick to the chest to break it! Scott lunging for his corner...look at that, Blake runs over and decks Rick to prevent the tag!"
"Good alertness there by Blake; he saw their momentum was in danger of being lost and took the initiative."
"Beau back over on top of Scott, slamming his head into the mat repeatedly. Beau whips Scott into the far ropes-hang on, Blake's standing right behind him, they wouldn't dare to...Beau throws Scott airborne..."
"And there it is, the Shaker Heights Spike!" Ventura roared in delight as Blake grabbed the head of the flying Scott and spiked it down hard into the mat, "I love that move."
"He couldn't do it from outside the ring; that's completely against the rules! He was not tagged in!" Monsoon protested vehemently.
"Tough luck, Gorilla, and here's Beau with the cover: one, two...WHAT!?" the Body gasped in shock as Scott kicked out at the last possible moment, "How the hell did he survive that!? NOBODY survives the Shaker Heights Spike!"
"Both Beverlies looking stunned-and Scott takes down Beau with a leg sweep and pulls him into a small package! One, two...Blake in and breaks it up at the last second. You're right though, Jesse, that is the first time I saw anyone survive the Shaker Heights Spike here in the WWF."
"I don't know how Steiner did it; maybe he cheated or something..."
"Nope, it was a legitimate escape as far as I saw it. Beau being grabbed by the legs; I think Scott intends to...doesn't matter, Blake wallops him from behind-and Scott turns around and decks him down to the floor! Scott trying to get to the corner for the tag; Beau holding onto the legs for dear life to prevent the tag-no dice, and Rick's tagged in. Rick Steiner drops the elbow hard on the prone Beau Beverly, now drags him to the corner and smashes his head off the turnbuckle: two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Snap suplex takes Beau down, and Rick twisting the arm hard, trying to wear Beau down. Blake finally getting back up to the apron; Beau yanking Rick's headgear, trying to break his hold; Rick with a punch to the face to break that up. Rick whips Beau into the ropes, raises the leg-no, Beau grabs it and starts to twist it...and a double no, Rick with a swinging kick that connects with Beau's head and takes him down again! Rick with the cover: one, two...AGAIN Blake in to break up the tag; this is getting absurd-and Rick rams both Beverlies' heads together!"
"Now that was uncalled for, Gorilla; Blake wasn't doing nothing wrong!"
"What do you call interfering with the cover, as both Beverlies have been doing all through the match? Rick tags Scott back in; the younger Steiner grabs hold of Beau, who's now been in there an awful long time, and takes him down hard with a bulldog."
"Yeah, I think Beau better get out of there if he can."
"Irish whip sends Beau into the ropes; Scott into the far ropes-and there's the FrankenSteiner!" Monsoon roared as Scott seized Beau's head between the knees and wildly flipped him over, "That should end this one! One, two...NO! Somehow Beau Beverly survives the FrankenSteiner; that's the first time I've seen anyone survive that move either! What is happening here tonight?"
"Well as I've said for the longest time, Gorilla, the Beverly Brothers are a top notch team and should not be put down."
"Neither team's finisher has put the other away in this one-and look at that, Blake in with a cheap shot on Scott from behind! And here comes Rick, who nails Blake from behind in turn! All four men now going at it in there; the referee has lost control of this one."
"He definitely has; I hope he remembers which man's legal for each team."
"That of course is Beau and Scott, who are...hold on, what's this now; Blake yanking the Genius's scroll off him, he's running towards Scott, who isn't watching-look out, Blake nails Scott across the back of the head...but he got caught!" Monsoon shouted as the referee waved for the bell.
"Well maybe this one's on the Steiners for interfering; Rick threw a cheap shot on Blake too, you know," Ventura argued. Finkel, however, promptly announced the opposite decision: "Ladies and gentlemen, the winners of this bout, as the result of a disqualification, the Steiner Brothers!" "Hard-fought win for the Steiners here as they take in the applause from the hometown fans and their family there-look out, Beverlies with a Pearl Harbor job from behind!" Monsoon groaned, "Beverly Brothers proving to be sore losers, even though they have no one to blame for their loss but themselves for trying to introduce a foreign object into the match."
"I still can't believe the Shaker Heights Spike failed," Ventura grumbled, "The match should have been over then."
"But the fact is it wasn't. Let's look at the replay: Scott Steiner with the FrankenSteiner, which somehow Beau survives. Blake then cheap shots Scott, Rick runs in to protect his brother, and right there, Blake nails Scott with the Genius's scroll, but stupidly does it right in front of the ref, who promptly tosses the Beverlies. Both teams still going at it tooth and nail, and it looks like the Steiners are starting to get the upper hand as the brawl spills down the aisle and back towards the locker room..."
"Gentlemen, gentlemen, try and control yourselves; there'll be another time and another match with them!" Lanny shouted to the Beverlies, who kept slugging away at the Steiners in the aisle. The self-proclaimed Genius shrugged to his father in the front row. "Well, I still have a little work to do with them, but as you can see, they are coming quite nicely, Dad," he explained with what apparently was a straight face.
"Yes, Lanny, I can see that very well," Angelo mumbled, his hand over his face, "Maybe next time, ditch the scroll so they don't have a potential foreign object to introduce."
"Blake, Blake, don't bite the man!" Lanny protested, rushing to pull Blake off Rick. Angelo sighed deeply. "I think he should ditch them," he wearily told Larry and the Harts, "They're only going to drag him down."
"Oh well," Stu shrugged himself, taking a sip of soda, "At least it was a good match up till the point they decided to cheat with the scroll. Hopefully everything else on the card tonight'll be just as good..."
