...And I Was Shot To Death

"If I am right
If I can be
Constant and faithful
You'll find me

In my devotion
In my devotion

But if you find a fault
Between my purpose and my deeds
Deem me beyond salvation
Judge me to be unworthy

Of your devotion
Of your devotion"
-"Devotion," Tracy Chapman

Tonight's entry is dedicated to my girlfriend Aiea and her senior comprehensive production of "Two Rooms," a play in which I performed. The performance was earlier this evening, and from what I can tell it went amazingly well. We were able to rip the hearts out of a whole gathering of well-wishers, and the best part is that we meant to do it. With this show in the books, Aiea is now only a few simple steps away from graduating Saint Mary's College with a degree in Theater, and though her semester is still going to be tough from here on out, it takes one huge load off her mind that we are both quite appreciative of. I intend to show that girl a good time in the next two days so that she can take the rest of her mind off her stressload as long as possible. Wish me luck on my harrowing (rhymes with arrowing; long story) task.

Anyhow, on to the business at hand. Other than the money-in-the-bank performance tonight, my thoughts are adrift on subjects of great importance, so I'm gonna go with quickish hit format for the whole of the entry proper. Sound good? First off:

Top Ten Wrestling Entrance Songs
-This is a topic that is very near and dear to my heart. I'm a firm believer in the power of music to augment the telling of a story, the development of a character or the overall mood of an audience. While this aspect of music is most clearly played out in motion pictures, it is strongly manifested in the realm of pro wrestling as well. Since the early 1980s, wrestlers have come to the ring while a song played that helped the fan identify with and get to know the character of that wrestler. During the MTV-WWF connection of the mid-80s, entrance music became a vital way for Vince McMahon to tap into the appeal of pop music by having his wrestlers walk out to the strains of top 40 hits. Since that time, a debate has come into being, solely amongst the saddest of wrestling geeks, over whether it is better for a wrestler to enter to a pop song or an original composition that gives him or her an identity distinct from a well-known song. The one constant has been that entrance music is a great way to engage both live crowds and audiences at home, conditioning them to begin responding to a wrestler when they hear their entrance music begin. Thus the proper entrance song is now vitally important to a wrestler's chances of getting over with the fans and pushed by the writers. So in compiling this list, I took into consideration how well the goal of getting a wrestler over is achieved by their song as well as how much the song itself rocks. Only a music whore like myself could think some of these songs are actually good, but when you consider the integral role wrestling has played in my life, you begin to understand that some of these songs are very important to me. That only made it harder to make up this list, but I gave it a try:
#1 "Real American" by Derringer--Hulk Hogan
Only makes sense that the greatest icon in the business would be #1. Hogan used to come out to "Eye of the Tiger" to play up his role in Rocky III, and that was a really awesome song for him. This song was actually first used for the pretty boy tag team of Windham and Rotundo. Thankfully the WWF lost the rights to "Eye of the Tiger" and paired Hogan with the only entrance song that could have ever topped it in order to play up his status as an evil-foreigner-basher. This song inspires me and makes me nostalgic for my childhood all in one 3 minute festival of love. I play it as my "victory song" everytime I finish a tough task or achieve a long sought-after goal. Sometimes I even pose like the Hulkster, too, but only in the privacy of my room. I don't feel any song ever captured the heroic, patriotic nature of a character better than this one, and its riffy guitar rock structure ensures that it only needs to be played for a couple of seconds before the fans explode, even 15-20 years after Hogan's heyday. It's a no-brainer.
#2 "Also Sprach Zarathustra," a.k.a. theme from 2001: A Space Odyssey by Strauss--Ric Flair
Quite the switch in respectability, eh? Doesn't matter if you're a legendary classical composer or a forgotten 80s rocker on this list. WCW (before it was called that) lifted this tune from the movie because they wanted to lend an epic feel to the entrance of their biggest draw. 25 years later, it still works. You could love or hate Ric Flair, like I did as a young fan in the 80s and 90s, but when those three notes played, you knew something important was up. As Flair has become more of a nostalgia icon and less of a wrestling deity, his trademark "Whooo!" has been added to the beginning of the song to help get the fans more into it, and the effect is not lessened. No one takes hold of an audience with his entrance like the Nature Boy.
#3 "Stone Cold" Steve Austin's theme
This song has had several variations under a few different names, including a cover by alternarock stalwart Disturbed, but it has always contained one key aspect that epitomizes a good entrance song: the shattering glass at the beginning. Jim Johnston, the scribe writer of all of WWE's original entrance songs, heard a Rage Against the Machine track that had a driving bass line and a forceful beat augmented by the sound of glass breaking, and Austin's hell-raising, anti-authority persona immediately came to mind. Since 1996, crowds across the world have come to associate the breaking glass with a sign of things getting very interesting during a wrestling show. They even made a t-shirt about it that said, "When you hear the glass, it's your ass." Fans would roar from the moment the song started; they didn't even need to see Austin to know a major league ass-whuppin' was iminent. It was a perfect way to help get Austin over, and it still works. The song by itself works as a pregame pump-up song as well.
#4 Jake "The Snake" Roberts' theme
Pure intensity, just like the wrestler who walked out to it. Made Jake look like even more of a badass than he already was. Also accompanied a scary intense workout video of Hogan pre-Wrestlemania III. Seriously, he looks like he's lifting in a prison yard.
#5 D-Generation X's theme
Another late 90s Jim Johnston brainchild, this tune was a kickin' groove with a great opening salvo. "Break it down!" symbolized exactly what D-X was about to do to the order of things on every show they were at. The only thing that could have made it better would have been the Beastie Boys performing it instead of the Beastie sound-alikes Johnston used.
#6 Mr. Perfect's theme
As if Curt Hennig wasn't enough of a Ric Flair clone, the WWF gave him an epic entrance song that made it sound like a gladiator or a Greek god was walking to the ring. Coupled with Hennig's chiseled physique, his ultra-confident gait and his cocky-ass half smirk, this song was indeed the perfect entrance for Mr. Perfect.
#7 "My Bonny Lass is Comin' Home to Me"--"Rowdy" Roddy Piper
It almost makes too much sense to just play bagpipes over the speakers when a Scottish wrestler walks to the ring. Something about the particular recording of this traditional tune always struck me as inspirational and heart-warming. It lent Piper a noble, heroic quality that only his demeanor and not his actions in the ring backed up. And I'll admit that I'm biased; my Scottish heritage makes it far easier for me to tolerate the bagpipes.
#8 "Voodoo Child" by Jimi Hendrix--Hollywood Hogan
I admit even I am a little sick that Hogan shows up twice on this list, but honestly, anyone who has the balls to walk to the ring to a Hendrix song has to get his props. It figures that during the nWo era, when Hogan was using his political power to screw around the whole WCW roster and make himself out to be a wrestling god, he had to go and put everyone else's entrance music to shame, too. No studio-constructed, lyricless electronic thrasher rock that passed for a generic entrance song could ever hope to stand up to the power of Jimi. I credit this song with getting me into Hendrix in the first place, and I'm sure it did the same for a lot of other wrestling fans. It was awesome as a chaotic, gritty anthem for the evil Hogan and perfect for his goofy little air guitar routine. Only made me hate him more, so it did its job.
#9 Barry Windham's theme
A little known track, Barry & his tag team partner Dustin Rhodes used this instrumental cover of ZZ Top's "La Grange" briefly during 1991 and '92 in WCW. For some reason, I thought it was a really catchy southern rock riff that perfectly captured the badass cowboy essence of Windham and Rhodes. I also have an indelible memory of hearing an extended play of this song at the Clash of Champions in November of '91. Barry was injured and he and Dustin brought out his substitute for their tag title match. The guy took a while to enter as he was wearing a robe with a huge dragon head on it; not surprisingly he turned out to be Ricky "The Dragon" Steamboat, one of my all-time favorites! Anyway, this song played on and on, and somehow its relentless note-bending goodness has stuck in my head all these years along with the geeked moment of seeing Steamboat. I think Lance Hoyt of TNA could get over huge if he started using this entrance song today. Eh, maybe not.
#10 "The Game" by Motorhead--Triple H
I hesitate to even put this on the list because it feels like Triple H has been using it way too long. That is a ridiculous statement considering the first two songs on the list, but it's just because Hunter's entrance is so bloated and drawn out (just like his promos) that I'm sick of seeing him do it exactly the same way year after year. I can't deny, however, that he got infinitely more badass when he started using this song at the outset of 2001 and refined his entrance to go along with it. Nowhere were both the positive and negative aspects of this song more evident than when Motorhead performed it live as Triple H entered at both Wrestlemania 17 and 21. The entrances made Triple H look awesome and like a really huge deal, but the fact that they have done the exact same trick with the entrance at two Wrestlemanias proves how badly Triple H needs a change in style or a trip out of the main event. Still, Motorhead rocks and this song is amazing for getting out anger or getting yourself fired up. And the fans definitely respond to it, nowadays by cheering the most evil guy in the business during his entrance. Talk about the power of song.

Honorable mentions, and there are quite a few: Tazz's theme (WWE), Lex Luger's theme (WCW, 1988-1992), "Respect" by Pantera--Rob Van Dam (ECW), "Welcome to the Jungle" by Guns 'n' Roses--The Steiner Brothers (WCW, 1989), Ahmed Johnson's theme, Cactus Jack's theme (WWE, 1997-2004), "Graveyard Symphony"--The Undertaker, "Rollin'" by Limp Bizkit--Undertaker, Kane's theme (WWE, 1997-99), Ricky Steamboat's theme (WCW, 1991-92), Chicago Bulls theme--Ricky Steamboat (WWE, 1987-88), the New Age Outlaws' theme, "My Time is Now" by John Cena--John Cena

The Olympics
-Okay, I know I said a few weeks ago that I didn't care. I still don't, really, at least not enough to skip class or rehearsal or work to watch the games on TV. But I have to admit that every time I do manage to catch some of the Olympiad, I am transfixed. And there is a part of me that, even in this day and age of monkey-brained politics and economic stupidity, gets up to see the U.S. kick some ass (or yells at them when they suck). I railed and wailed at the misadventures of Apolo Oh, no, Bode Swiller, Lindsay Lack-of-cerebellum-is (you no longer get to use my name as part of yours!) and the rest of Team Happy To Be Here, but at the same time I genuinely enjoyed Shaun White's righteous ass-kicking of the entire snowboarding world (until he started talking. yeesh.). My only disappointment? My friend Brent isn't around to make fun of curling with me. Poor guy is stuck in Canada; he probably can't find a TV that isn't going curling nuts right now. I must refer back to the sage-like wisdom of Lewis Black: "If curling is an Olympic sport, then oral sex is adultery. And oral sex should be an Olympic sport. Why? Because it's harder than curling, and if you're any good at it, you deserve a medal."

The Oscars
-I still haven't caught up on the best picture nominees. Maybe now that her comp is over, Aiea will have some time to sleep next to me as I rent them (she has a hard time getting through whole movies, alright?). I'm very intrigued by Capote; I'm usually turned off by Philip Seymour Hoffman, but I may have to start liking him because it's rumored he will play The Penguin in the next Batman Begins movie. I really hated his fat ass in Talented Mr. Ripley, though. That movie was just a shitshow from beginning to end. I'm glad they lampooned it in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. Wait, was I talking about the Oscars and now I'm on Kevin Smith? How did that happen? I love ya, Kev, but that's what you get for taking 4 years to write one issue of Spider-Man/Black Cat. You should be ashamed.

So, anyway, Oscars. Yeah, as long as Roberto Benigni isn't up for anything, I'm all good. Make your choices as you may, Academy. Page me when you've nominated a Marvel flick for something other than visual effects.

The Bulls
-Remember them? I would feel bad about neglecting my boys since the playoffs ended last year, but then again I wasn't even following them until after this point last season anyway, so maybe this is a good thing. I actually know a lot. I know Ben Gordon is starting, and that he scored 30 points in three straight games (mostly 'cause the Chicago sports media talks about it like that makes him Kareem Jordan Chamberlain, Jr. or something). I know Tyson Chandler gets paid $10 million a year to not play offense. I would have a joke for that, but it makes me too fucking angry. I know that the Bulls are very much in the playoff hunt and yet the hot topic of conversation seems to be the 2 lottery picks they have in the upcoming draft. And I know that's not a good thing. Most of all, I know none of it matters until the Chicago Not Jordans get a center who can do something more than get eaten alive by Shaq and battered around by the Motor City Wallace Connection (sounds like an old school rap group). Until that happens, the Bulls aren't making it out of the Eastern Conference, and after six titles in the 90s, all I care about is titles, baby. Forget the nostalgia, that was last year. This is '06, and they have to show me something or hit the bricks.

Spring Training
-Games start in a week. Windy City title town, baby. I'm telling you it's somebody in Chicago's year. I'm betting on Marquis Grissom, who may as well be a lock for a roster spot on the North Side. Just remember, Cubs fans, it could be worse. It could be Rickey Henderson. Hell, it could be Pete Incaviglia, but it's not. That's what's important. Oh yeah, the Cubs are gonna be great this year.

Wrestlemania
-It's just 38 Big Time days away. I'm still skeptical about the card, but when I consider the possibilities along with what's already been announced, it at least sounds good:

Triple H vs. Cena for the WWE title
Mysterio vs. Orton vs. Angle for the World Heavyweight title
HBK vs. McMahon
Undertaker vs. Mark Henry? (swing and a miss!)
Mickie James vs. Trish for the Women's title
Edge vs. Mick Foley
Bret Hart, Eddie Guerrero, and possibly Dusty Rhodes, the Road Warriors and Ricky Steamboat (!) in the Hall of Fame
Carlito and 4-5 others in a Money in the Bank match?
Lashley vs. Finlay? (uh-oh)

And that still leaves Kane, Big Show, Benoit, Booker T, MNM, Chris Masters and a host of others with nothing to do. It may be thin on established talent, but it seems like it will be chock full of new agey goodness. If Mysterio wins, though, I may gis myself right there in the arena. So look out for security dragging my soiled carcass away LIVE AND ONLY ON PAY-PER-VIEW!!!

That's it and that's all.
~Jakeman

Normal Vault Rules Apply: Touch Not, Lest Ye Be Touched

"Wellllll,
Well it's the Big Show
Yeah it's a big, bad show tonight, y'all
Yeah it's the Big Show
Come on and crank it up, turn on the lights, y'all
Well, get ready for somethin'
That you'll never know
You won't see it comin'
But I promise you'll know
It's the Big Show!"
-"Big," official theme of the Big Show, from WWF The Music Volume 4

Okay, I had a wrestling-related epiphany today, so I had to post about it. WWE Raw, my favorite TV show, was pre-empted this week. The USA network, on which Raw ran for seven years before it jumped to TNN (now Spike TV), has a long-standing contract with the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show, the world's premiere dog showcase. The Westminster show is famous for three reasons, none of which it is proud of, I'm sure. First, it was expertly spoofed by Christopher Guest's vaunted mockumentary Best in Show. Second, the show was the birthplace of popular Late Night with Conan O'Brien character Triumph the Insult Comic Dog. Third, and most prevalent, the show traditionally is broadcast in prime time on a Monday night, and as such part of USA's contract with WWE stated that Raw must be pre-empted once a year in order to air the dog show. When WWE returned to USA in October, the Westminster proviso was still part of the deal. So this week's episode was taped Monday night to be aired Thursday. Thinking I was not going to be able to see the show on Thursday night, I checked WWE.com for the spoilers of Monday's tapings. If you haven't seen the show yet and want to be surprised, skip down to the quick hits at the end of the page.

*Spoilers ahead! Danger, Will Robinson! DANJAH! Danger, high voltage! Please, dont' shoot!*



The spoilers informed me that as part of the Road to Wrestlemania tournament, which will decide the challenger to John Cena's WWE title at WM on April 2nd (only 45 days 'til I'm there, baby!!!), the Big Show met Triple H in the semifinals. The two battled to a draw. I was shocked to read this. Conventional tournament wisdom dictates that in the event of a draw, the person who was to meet the winner of the drawn match gets a bye to the next round. In this case that would mean the winner of the Rob Van Dam-Chris Masters semifinal would get a bye to, well, the winner's circle and therefore be the #1 contender! Could it be true? Did Vince McMahon and the WWE's powers-that-be have the guts to shock the world and not give The Nose, er, I mean, The Game, his pre-appointed main event slot at the biggest show of the year? Were they bold enough to put a fresh face in the most important match on the calendar and try to capitalize on the success of their awesome ECW pay-per-view in the process? Would this finally be RVD's day in the sun, as there was no chance in hell they had that much faith in Masters?

Sadly, no, as we live in the era of the triple threat match. Apparently later in the taping Vinny Mac himself declared that both Show and HHH were still alive in the tournament (despite the fact that they both blew their chance by getting counted out) and would both face RVD--who did beat the Masturbator, er, I mean, Masterpiece--next week for the title shot. All of this got me thinking. And after seven years of frustration, cold sweats, sleepless nights and massive therapy bills, I've finally figured it out. The Big Show is not a useless waste of space. He has a very definitive role in WWE, and I finally realize what it is. Big Show is Mr. Triple Threat.

Think about it, WWE historians. Every time that WWE doesn't have full confidence in their main event, they add Big Show to it. Every time they don't know what to do with the Show, he gets shoehorned into an existing feud and made part of a multi-way match. It almost never fails, and the examples are endless. The first incidence I can remember is the Survivor Series in 1999. Stone Cold was written into the main event, a triple threat match with The Rock and Triple H for the WWE title. But Austin needed some time off for neck surgery. So they run an angle where he gets hit by a car and is injured. The easy thing would have been to make Rock-HHH a singles match and have Trips keep the belt. But they didn't want Rock to lose face, and they wanted to send the fans home happy (or as happy as could be expected considering they got gipped out of seeing the company's biggest star in the main event). So what do they do? Throw Big Show in there for a triple threat! And voila, Triple H gets pinned but also gets a ready-made transitional chump to take the belt back from, and Rocky doesn't have to job. And somehow out of all of this mess, a heatless Big Show, stuck in a stupid feud with Big Bossman over his (fake) dead father's remains, gets a WWE title run he was promised in his contract. Nice and neat.

It doesn't stop there, though. Skip ahead a few months. Wrestlemania 2000 is coming up, and the whole world knows it's going to come down to Rock and Triple H again for the title. But WWE wants to swerve the fans, spike the buyrate for their April pay-per-view and get The Game over again all without making Rocky look bad. So what do they do? Throw Big Show in there, with Mick Foley on top for spice! That way, they can give Show his other contract incentive (guaranteed main event at WM 2000) and soften the blow of their most popular performer losing at their biggest event of the year. Seeing a pattern?

But wait, there's more. September 2002: Eric Bischoff hands the new World Championship to Triple H. WWE needs a credible #1 contender to lose to HHH and establish him as a worthy champion. They don't have much to choose from; just former champ Chris Jericho (who's been jobbing to Ric Flair), unreliable and unmotivated burnout Jeff Hardy, and hot for all of 2001 but fading fast RVD. It's just not good enough of a field for a triple threat. What do they do? Make it a fatal four way with Big Show! Show's rage gets him disqualified, it comes down to Van Dam and Jericho, and as the only one in the match who hasn't lost to Triple H before, Van Dam gets the booby prize, having gone through not one really great contender but 3 almost great ones in one match.

July 2003: Kurt Angle is returning from neck surgery, so WWE fans of course are making him a face. WWE wants him to rekindle his feud with Brock Lesnar from Wrestlemania, but Brock's also a face, and they can't turn either one of them heel right away. They need them to face each other with the buffer zone of a common enemy, but what can they do? You guessed it: have Brock feud all spring with Big Show and then make it a triple threat at Vengeance! The two guys team up on the 500-pounder for a while, but tempers flare between them before Angle wins, thus planting the seeds for Brock's heel turn and the real start of the feud.

February 2004: Kurt Angle and John Cena are clearly the odds-on favorites to challenge Eddie Guerrero for the WWE title at Wrestlemania. Angle's a heel and thus has to win in order to meet Eddie the face, but they don't want to kill Cena's momentum as a face either. Sensing the patter yet? Oh yeah, they go to Big Show! Even though Cena taps out, the fans are made to think he might not have lost if not for Angle and Show pounding on him, and he gets to beat Show for the U.S. title at 'Mania as a consolation prize.

January 2005: JBL is out of viable face contenders for his WWE title, but the fans are really interested in seeing him defend it against the heel Kurt Angle. Just the same, WWE can't make a heel vs. heel title match for the Royal Rumble, and deep down even they realize there's no way JBL would beat Angle straight up. What do they do? I think you've got the picture. JBL pins Angle, but only because he was preoccupied with Show.

I could go on and on. The point is, there's a very real pattern here. And with a little deduction, it's not hard to figure out why Big Show has been slotted with this role. In my opinion, the main reason is that WWE wants to put Show in big-time matches as a way of justifying the fact that they've made him a big deal in the past. It's the classic self-fulfilling prophecy syndrome; WWE says that Show is a major star, so they arrange things in order to have themselves proven right and put him in major matches even if the fans don't want him there. And part of Vince McMahon's belief that Show should be a major star comes from his unusual love for Really Big Guys. Vince follows the classic logic of fake fighting that just like in real life, the biggest guy should always win a fight because, well, he's the biggest. So there. Or at least he thinks the fans think that way. So if a match needs a gap filled in the form of a viable main event performer just so the fans will buy it as important, there's no better way to fill that gap than with a 7 foot tall, 500 pound giant. Because people will believe he can beat anyone smaller than him. Which is everybody. So if anyone actually manages to win a match he is in, that makes them like, Superman. And people will buy tickets to see Superman wrestle. Yeah. This is the thought process that has brought Show to his lot in life.

Now as long as Big Show is gigantic and a former WWE champion, he will continue to be thrown into these situations. The good side of it is that he will always manage to be featured in a high-profile match every few months. The down side is that he will hardly ever get one-on-one matches or storylines of any consequence. WWE will have him muddle around the middle of the card for a little while, then all of a sudden he'll chokeslam some people to remind the fans just how Really Big he is and get jammed into a three or four-way match (or as is currently the case, a tag title match) like cooking lard in a recipe--just for flavor, not for substance. And he'll never win the big one again as far as I can see. Of course, Big Show could break the cycle if he could get over well enough with the fans to become a main eventer on his own. And if you've listened to Jim Ross' commentary for the last 7 years, you know that Show has all the potential in the world to be a major player. But that's just J.R.'s nice way of saying that Show isn't over with the fans without totally burying a guy under a long-term contract. Cowboy diplomacy at its finest. I don't harbor any ill will towards the Show, per se. Every shoot ("real," non-scripted) interview I've ever heard the guy give have made him seem humble, personable and respectful of the business. And he's a hoot on Conan O'Brien. But I can't say I consider him to be a guy who works hard. Even though he was plenty big already, the only thing I've ever seen Show do to his body since signing with WWE is gain weight. And that includes several months in 2000 when they sent him down to OVW, their minor league organization to get in shape and he actually came back bigger. His moveset has devolved into really slow, lumbering offense that doesn't require him to move very much, and at a relatively young age he's starting to turn into the sad shell of himself that Andre the Giant was becoming in the last years of his career. All of this, coupled with the fact that there's only so much a 500 pound guy can do to look cool to young adult fans and women, would seem to ensure that Show is doomed to stay Mr. Triple Threat until he can't wrestle any more.

The sad fact is, WWE will force him to do so because he was originally signed to a huge long-term contract laden with the ridiculous incentives mentioned above. You may be asking why, and the best answer is that Show has been living off one of the greatest rookie years ever for his entire career. Show had an inauspicious beginning in 1995. He was a former college basketball player discovered by Hulk Hogan, trained to wrestle and cajoled into playing the long-lost son of Andre the Giant in WWE's rival company WCW. That was a stupid idea, not to mention obviously untrue, and was quickly scrapped in favor of an even worse idea. Show (then known simply as The Giant) joined up with the evil Kevin Sullivan's Dungeon of Doom group, a cartoonish collection of bad wrestlers playing characters out of B-horror flicks. During this time, Show did such ridiculous things as explode out of a wall in a cave to attack Hogan, compete in a monster truck showdown and survive a supposed fall off the roof of Cobo Hall only to wrestle later in the night. Eventually, though, Show broke off from the Dungeon and was allowed to show his individual skills. Unlike every superheavyweight WWE has ever tried to market as being "really athletic for a guy his size," Show actually was. He moved at a quick pace and leaped around the ring like a much smaller man, all the while adopting a stoic, reserved killer persona that made him far more intimidating than cheap tricks like a fall off a roof. Show became the rare commodity of a guy marketed as a heel who became so badass that the fans clamored to cheer for him, and thus he was given the WCW World title after thoroughly dominating Ric Flair in April 1996, followed by him running through WCW's other mainstays Sting and Lex Luger. Unfortunately, just as things were starting to really click for the Big Guy, his buddy Hogan turned heel and formed the New World Order, taking the belt away from Show in the process. The nWo storyline saved WCW, but it killed Show's momentum. For the next 3 years, he became the first test case for nWo suffocation, as he became awash in the bizarre and excessive booking behind the group and changed loyalties so many times that by January of '99 literally no one knew what side he was on. WCW let him go, WWE signed him to a deal and at the time, he was considered one of the most important free agent acquisitions in the war between WWE and WCW, mostly based (still) on the promise he had shown in his first year. His new name, The Big Show, was meant to reflect not only his size but his status as a main event player. Show's initial heat quickly fizzled, however, and by November of that year, he was stuck in his current loop.

So you could say that Show suffers from the worst case of the sophomore slump in history, or you could blame both WCW and WWE for not giving him the chance to run with the ball as one of their biggest names. Whatever the case, the only thing for certain is that Big Show is without question Mr. Triple Threat, and I think WWE needs to acknowledge it. It doesn't even matter that he never wins the triple threat or fatal four way matches he's in; they've called the Undertaker the master of the casket match for years and he loses them far more often than not. They created the Buried Alive match specifically for the guy and he's never won one! So why not throw Show a bone and just admit to the fact that you don't have anything better to do with the guy than throw him in triple threats. Maybe it'll backfire in some weird way and actually get him over. Of course, the best way to get him over would be to start calling him Mr. Triple Threat, have him win the match against Triple H and RVD next week, then go on to beat John Cena and Edge in another triple threat for the title at Wrestlemania. But I think we all know that's not going to happen, because I'm going to Wrestlemania and God doesn't hate me enough to let the night end with Big Show holding the gold. At least I hope not. I'll be sure to give up extra stuff for Lent this year, just in case.



*End of Spoilers! We now return you to your regularly scheduled quick hits!*

-Baseball is right around the corner. I'm still juiced, more than I have been in quite some time. Make no mistake about it, and believe no one who tells you otherwise: the White Sox are the pick to win it again this year. Their nucleus is still intact, they've got the Frank Thomas bad blood out of their system, and their pitching staff is actually improved over last season. Best of all, Coco Crisp no longer plays for the Indians. I'm telling you, they're unstoppable! The sentimental pick for me, however, is the Cubs. Let me state once again for the record (as I dodge your rotten vegetables) , I am an admitted 'tweener when it comes to Chicago baseball. I feel the Cubs' pain as strongly as anyone, but even if I didn't, I'd want them to win this year. Speaking from the perspecitve of a Sox fan (or any other fan, for that matter), what better way would there be to both cease the whining of Cubdom and kill their annoying status as loveable losers in one fell swoop than for them to win it this year? Especially after Boston and the White Sox have ended their respective cold streaks in consecutive seasons. I'm telling you, the cards are falling into place (the proverbial cards and the St. Louis ones); the baseball deities have had enough and a change is bound to come. I don't care if the potential for greatness isn't on their roster, this has to be the Cubs' year. And if they do win, I'll adopt the same stance I had about the White Sox: I'm selfish and greedy, and as long as they win a World Series in my lifetime, I don't care if they ever win another one. Fuck the grandkids, I can die happy.

-Movies are hard to get to when you're in college. Therefore, I have to root for Crash for Best Picture because it's the only nominee I've seen. That's not to say I didn't think it was excellent, because I did and I told everyone I knew to see it. But I really have no frame of reference when it comes to calling it the year's best movie. And as a film major, I don't think that's a good thing. Oh well, I'm sure someday I'll be so sick of watching movies that I'll lock myself in a cave and read Reader's Digest for days at a time, so I won't complain too much now.

-I don't know if I'm returning to the comics shop this week or not. As I rediscover the medium, I'm also rediscovering the unfortunate truth that many books don't live up to their covers or the previews of what's going to happen in them. And nothing sucks more than that first exposition issue of a new story arc, but without them, the action-packed later issues are too damn confusing. Damn bloodsucking comics companies, just when I think I'm out, they pull me back...oh never mind.

Excelsior!
~Jakeman

Well, My Apartment Isn't There...Because I Drank It

"From the brightest star
Comes the blackest hole
You had so much to offer
Why did you offer your soul?
I was there for you baby
When you needed my help
Would you deny for others
What you demand for yourself?

Cool down mama, cool off
Cool down mama, cool off
You speak of signs and wonders
I need something other
I would believe if I was able
But I'm waiting on the crumbs from your table."
-U2, "Crumbs from Your Table"


There's a good reminder in those lyrics about keeping your cool. And that's more a reminder for myself than anyone else, but more to the point I am aghast that Bono and/or The Edge would put the words "cool down mama, cool off" in a song released after the 1970s. They should be ashamed, but I bet they're not. Why? Because they have a boatload of Grammys to keep them warm at night. You go, U2. By the way, something occurred to me once when I was sending a text message: do you think it's possible they named the band after the polite conversational wish? I mean, do you think they were always talking on the phone, and people were saying, "Have a nice day" or "I love you" and they were always responding with the words "You, too" and decided to name a band after them? If so, I would have done the impossible and found a reason this band is infinitely cooler.

What else? Let's see, my classes are in that early-semester malaise period before midterms when I realize how lazy I've been and get kicked in the ass on the way to finals. So...all good there, I guess. I'm unusually excited about the fact that I have 5 free hours today within which I plan to buy some comics and lounge around reading them. I mean, what am I, twelve? Ah, twelve. I long for those simpler days. The grass was always lime green and the sun was always shining when I was twelve. Of course, I spent most of that year in a chemically-induced coma, so take my perceptions with a grain of salt. Only kidding. But no, really.

I thought I would just take a minute since I finally have a chance to organize my thoughts and comment on the Frank Thomas situation. First of all, let me establish that Frank Thomas is my favorite baseball player. You may throw garbage at your monitor now. Done? Okay, good. He and Hawk Harrelson did more than any other people alive to get me into baseball when I was a geeky kid looking for something constructive to be interested in, and that forged a bond that is awful hard to break. Now, for those not in the know, Frank has spent the last 15 years as part of the Chicago White Sox. During that time he has amassed a series of historically impressive numbers, won two American League MVP awards and been widely considered the best overall hitter of his generation. Sadly he only won two division titles during that span, and the Sox failed miserably both times he was in the playoffs. The most tragic thing is that he and the Sox's best season during his career was probably 1994, when they were the best team in the AL and seemed destined for a World Series date with the Expos (how weird would that have been?) before a labor strike halted the season without a playoffs. Now I don't purport to be an expert on all the many happenings involved, so I'll just say that Frank was almost known more for causing off the field problems than for his great statistics during his time with the Sox. Though I fell in love with him as a ten-year-old begging for a baseball hero who could only see a gentle giant demeanor and a crushingly effective batting stroke, I apparently missed the whole picture. Frank was known to be surly, cocky and selfish with both management and the media, all of which were facts I ignored when I began to become old enough to understand the ugly side of sports. Just the same, Frank became my favorite player after the 1993 West Division championship season, and I have always had tunnel vision in regards to him since. He's my guy, I don't question him, that's it and that's all. Whatever sins he may have committed with his mouth were worth the joys of watching him use a bat as far as I was concerned. Which is why I wanted so badly for Frank to return to full health over the past couple of years so he could attain the one statistical goal he needs to ensure a place in the Hall of Fame: 500 career home runs. And why I was so disappointed when the Sox finally got over the hump and won a championship while an injured Frank rode the bench.

Frank's last chapter in Chicago ended badly. Long story short, Frank said he was healthy enough to play in the World Series, the team told him to sit it out and let him throw out the first pitch, the Sox ended up winning and then didn't offer Frank a chance to come back with the team. The Big Hurt apparently is, or at least was enough to offer some bitter words upon signing with his new team, the Oakland A's. Even though I've seen this day coming for quite a while, I wish Frank hadn't gone out on such a low note. Even though I've known for about 3 or 4 years that he and the Sox were probably better off apart, a part of me wished that Frank could have a storybook ending to his career and never have to leave the South Side. He was very close. A few less games missed to injury, and Frank could have had it all. Hell, he got damn close to 500 homers, and he did get to participate in the victory parade. But seeing footage of him on that podium now is even more bittersweet than on the day of the celebration. So as perhaps the last fan who loved Frank Thomas almost as much as the White Sox themselves, what do I do now? I'll tell you. I will root against the Oakland A's with every fibre of my being. Even when they're not playing against the Sox, their very presence as a team on the west coast with strong pitching is a thorn in the Pale Hose's side. I will not hope for their success just because their organization houses my favorite player. I will, however, circle those dates on the calendar when Chicago plays the Athletics, because it will give me a chance to glimpse my hero and my team in the same place once again. It will transport me back to my carefree younger days when baseball was new in my eyes and Big Frank was a smiling slugger; a kind heart with a mean bat. And on those days, I will secretly hope against hope that he sticks around long enough to hit 500, and punches his ticket to the Hall. And even if his bitterness causes him to wear an Oakland hat when he is inducted, I will not let that bitterness infect me. Because what Frank gave me as a fan needing a baseball hero I can never truly repay. I know only that the least I can do is support him in the twilight of a great career. My admiration for him isn't over, it's just changed a little. And that's what true devotion is about.

Sharon Stone stars in The Hits and The Dead (those hits are awful Quick, you know):

-My congratulations go out to two pillars of the vaunted Canadian pro wrestling tradition. Last Sunday, Christian Cage (known just as Christian in WWE) won the top title in TNA, the NWA World Heavyweight Championship. I've never been a huge fan of Christian's, but even I have had to acknowledge that in the last 2 years, he had shown every necessary quality to be a main event player and WWE would not stop pushing him down. He took a very big chance bucking his big WWE contract and going to TNA, but he got what he wanted out of the deal. Now only time will tell if the move was worth it or not, but I have to believe that if TNA is ever going to emerge as a contender to WWE's rule over sports entertainment, guys with the talent and the, ahem, charisma of Christian will be the ones to lead it there.

-I also congratulate Bret Hart on his being announced as the first inductee in this year's WWE Hall of Fame class. Though the honor is a bit of a work and may be dragged through the mud by Vince McMahon before it's all over, it is certainly well-deserved and I hope Bret can enjoy the kind of tribute that Hulk Hogan got last year. Sure, his premature exit from the business may have helped grow his legend a bit, but he still has a huge following and no one can deny that he is one of the greatest ever. God speed, Bret, I'll see you in Chicago.

Lata, bitches!

~Jakeman

"I'm sorry that we couldn't spend more time serving together...below me."

"The place where I come from is a small town
They think so small
They use small words
But not me
I'm smarter than that
I worked it out
I've been stretching my mouth
To let those big words come right out

I've had enough, I'm getting out
To the city, the big big city
I'll be a big noise with all the big boys
There's so much stuff I will own
And I will pray to a big god
As I kneel in the big church

Big time!
I'm on my way, I'm making it
Big time! Big time!
I've got to make it show, yeah
Big time! Big time!
So much larger than life
Big time!
I'm going to watch it growing
Big time!"
-"Big Time," Peter Gabriel (official theme of WrestleMania 22, only 60 days away!)

Welcome to the big blog. I'm practicing my Sportscenter catchphrases, because today I met with a representative from ESPN about applying for a job there. Gave him my resume and everything. With any luck, by this time next year I could be running around snagging No-Doz and Ding Dongs for Stephen A. Smith! Wait a minute, that doesn't sound so appealing now that I say it here. Hmm. In any case, ESPN stands for The Dream; the one goal that I and the people around me alike have consistently forecasted should be what I do with my life. To have a realistic shot at starting down that road is amazing. For once in my career, I am definitely glad to be at Notre Dame, a place that can attract such a big-time (heh heh, bet you thought I couldn't work it in there) employer as the Total Sports Network and put me face-to-face with someone who could get me there. Then again, I might also be a half-time student at Kishwaukee College desperately trying to sneak into graduate schools at this time next year. The future; it's a mother fucker, eh?

Between the search for the future and my quickly escalating digital video production shooting schedule, a guy like me would already have more than enough to fill his plate. And by a guy like me, I mean a guy like Earl from the NBC sitcom "My Name is Earl," who says that "9:00 is early for a guy like me," and then awakens looking like he just took a couple of pints of Thunderbird straight in his veins. Of course, I am smart enough to not only have these things to worry about but also three other classes, a decent-sized role in a Shakespearean play and the lead in my lovely girlfriend's senior directing project. Needless to say, I've had some stressful moments in the past week, and they are only going to get worse. And wouldn't you know it, just like every finals week when these stressors normally pile up the worst, I'm getting sick. Not deathbed sick. Not even amusing, loopy on DayQuil sick. Just annoying, scratchy throat, congested sinuses sick. It's a wonder I could even speak coherently to the ESPN guy. Of course, the upside is that if I don't get a job, he will get a cold bug to remember me by. Take that, recruiter Joe!

But wait, there's more! On Saturday, I took yet another step in my progression towards golden godhood. I moved from the murky, geek-infested realm of the former high school speech competitor to the lofty, deity-like status of regional speech tournament judge. That's right, the Illinois High School Association actually paid me to decide the outcome of one of their tournaments. I would be more excited about this if I wasn't so skeptical as to the state of affairs of the IHSA right now that allowed this to come about. In any case, I didn't let the power go to my head and I was glad to be able to help out my good buddy and former speech coach, Greg Solomon. Congrats to him and his team for a very strong overall showing and first place as a team at the tournament. Now it's on to sectionals where D-Town has to contend with the overinflated, fathead suburban schools with their huge enrollments (and thus huger talent pools), their snooty-looking clothes and their fancy, high-priced, sophisticated speech technology (okay, I made that one up, but they do get all the other unfair advantages). Take it to 'em, Barbs, and show them that a bunch of corn-shucking, squirrel-chomping (don't ask) backwards yokels can talk circles around them and their tea-sipping, patty-cake playing highbrow ways.

In reference to my last entry, I just want to report that my Royal Rumble party was a rousing success, proving once again that pro wrestling is a viable entertainment source for any audience with the right mix of time and energy. Everyone in my house except for student body president D Biddy was there watching, as were my girlfriend, resident ND wrestling wunderkind Stevie Tortellini, and my good pal and recent wrestling addiction relapse victim Mike "I am NOT named after a hairstyle" Malatt. We enjoyed the whole show with the veractiy of a pack of Super Bowl partyers--well, maybe not, more like an excited crew of American Idol enthusiasts--and there proved to be something there for everybody. My girl was fascinated by the vast array of shiny tight pants and weird hairstyles, D-Locke found John Cena's entrance music to be his new favorite killer dance groove, and proving yet another well-known theory to be true, the whole room was made jubilant by the ousting of Triple H ("he's an asshole" seemed to be the most common knock against him--from people who don't watch wrestling, mind you) from the Rumble match as well as the subesequent victory by the eternal underdog, Rey Misterio.

And speaking of Rey-Rey, let me just say that his win in the Rumble match was pretty much the sole highlight of the show for me, and I would be bitter about dropping $40 on it had it not been for my sentimental favorite coming out on top. For the record, while I don't believe that Rey makes the most viable contender for a run with a World Championship, I also don't believe there is anyone who deserves such a run more than he does. Rey works his ass off to make his matches with vastly bigger men believable, innovative and dynamic, he has avoided any sustained time off due to injury, legal or personal problems in all of the 3 1/2 years he has worked for WWE, and he is consistently one of the most popular performers on Smackdown. I believe Rey could have gotten a push like this as long as a couple of years ago, as evidenced by the tremendous, hopeful reactions he has gotten in every one of his rare WWE title matches on Smackdown in the past couple of years. The fans love this guy and want to believe in him. There are two things about his current push, however, that really bother me. The first matter is the obvious one that has the whole wrestling world buzzing, that of WWE's blatant efforts to use Eddie Guerrero's death as a way to build momentum and popularity for Rey while gaining heat for his current rival, Randy Orton. As I eluded to above, the glaring problem with this strategy is that Rey doesn't need to capitalize on Eddie's death in order to get over with the fans. He's got them already, and any residual reaction that he would get from fans wanting to honor Eddie by supporting Rey would come without any provocation from the writers. Besides which, I believe that it not only tarnishes Eddie's legacy to be used in death as a plot device to get over another wrestler, but it actually makes Rey look weaker as a guy who can't get over on his own merits. The same goes for Orton, by the way, who is a perfectly effective cocky heel without having to say deplorable things like "Eddie's in hell" on national television when the Guerrero family could be watching, not to mention when Eddie's best friend is standing right in front of him. It is not only unnecessary but it just plain makes the both of them look bad. I believe that Rey and Orton are perfectly capable of putting together an old-fashioned "I'm better than you, no you're not, you wanna fight over it? yeah, let's do that" type of a feud without cheapening it as they have. Rey eliminating Orton to win the Rumble was a perfectly good reason to start a storyline, so besides everything else, the Eddie aspect of it is just a gaudy tack-on.

Secondly, it pains me to say so as Rey is probably my favorite wrestler competing in WWE right now (I'm enough of a Misterio mark to have his poster on my wall and his t-shirt in my wardrobe), but as I mentioned above I just don't know if I buy him having a sustained run as a World champion. I read a column in the wrestling section of my favorite website, insidepulse.com, that summed up the problem nicely. It basically said that Rey is not designed to wrestle men any bigger than Chris Jericho, the men formerly known as the Radicalz (Eddie, Benoit, Malenko) or Kurt Angle. That is because pro wrestling operates on the delicate balance of fantasy by which every move has to look like it hurts just enough to fool the audience. Thus every wrestler who wins a match has to be just big enough to seem like he could conceivably hurt his opponent with his vaguely painful-looking offense enough to beat them. If he isn't big enough, he can usually only win by some sort of unexpected means. Rey-Rey has tiptoed this line of believability in matches with much bigger men all through his WCW and WWE runs. When wrestling much bigger guys, his offense is usually based on surprise and using speed and momentum to bring opponents down and put them in sudden pinning combinations. But there is only so far that this kind of offense can take you before the audience begins not to buy it. If Misterio is defending his title against guys like JBL, Bobby Lashley, Mark Henry, and even Randy Orton night after night, always using B.S. surprise pins and takedowns that obviously involve the bigger guy flipping himself over because Rey is nowhere near heavy enough to do it himself, eventually the believability factor will go out the window along with Rey's credibility as a champion. Not only that, but big guys such as the ones I listed tend not to be very good workers. They might not be able to consistently bump in the proper ways to make Rey's offense look effective, not to mention that they probably wouldn't be able to keep up with his fast pace. Guys like Angle, Benoit, or Matt Hardy would have no problem in these areas, but how many times can Rey defend the belt against them? Even though I personally love seeing Misterio fly at bigger guys and whip them around using his legs like arms, I admit that at some point the general wrestling public is going to stop rooting for the irrepressible underdog and start calling shenanigans. And I would almost rather Rey never reach the pinnacle of the business than to have a short, meaningless title reign because WWE has to pull the plug on it. All that being said, I picked Orton to beat him out in the Rumble and I was gladly proven wrong, so I won't let myself be bitter enough to wager against him again. I believe that Rey will beat Randy Orton at No Way Out, keep his World Championship match at Wrestlemania, and face Kurt Angle for the gold at the event with me live in attendance, wearing that Misterio shirt proudly and revelling in their match of the year-level efforts. Or maybe I don't believe, maybe just like Redd in Shawshank, "I hope."

Hits quicker and harder than "an overhand right from Riddick:"

-The Super Bowl. It sucked. Big, hard, smelly donkey balls. The game was full of poor execution, lack of desire and overriding boneheadedness, especially on the part of the Seahawks. They didn't even make a compelling effort at a comeback because their hurry-up offense was such an embarassing mess. Like the Royal Rumble, the only bright spot was that a personal favorite of mine, ND alum Jerome Bettis, got to go out classy and on top. Good for him, the fat bastard. But yeah, other than that, suckfest. Even the commercials were awful. Maybe I was in a cynical mood, but I could not bring myself to laugh at any of them, let alone be impressed by their production value. I felt like I could have seen the same crop of shit during timeouts of a preseason NIT game on ESPN2. The coin toss pissed me off, too. Why should Tom Brady get to do it? What has he done in Super Bowls that is so much more special than anybody else? And why rub in the faces of guys who still have to play against him for another 10 years that Brady is a celebrity who is more marketable than the whole rest of the league? Emmitt Smith was standing right there; he's retired and the all-time leading rusher. Let him toss the damn coin! I'm not jealous of Brady, though, no way. Ah well, the Rolling Stones were decent. Pack it up, move on, and don't suck so bad next year when the Bears are playing, that's all I've got to say to the NFL.

-Only 3 weeks 'til the first Sox spring training game! And now that Chicago's only true local sports radio station, WSCR 670, is carrying all their games, I never have to miss one! I'm not just shilling, I'm genuinely pumped. Unless of course the Cubs do as they're told by the Laws of Destiny and win it all this year, in which case I will be forced to shift the majority of my loyalties back their way. I no longer hide my fence-sitting nature, I just wallow in it.

-I have a sustained comic book buying habit for the first time ever. I get paid on Friday, which means after only a week off, I can resume my ritual of buying select new releases from the BuyMe Toys shop in Mishawaka every 7 days. My current titles include Infinite Crisis from DC as well as Ultimate Extinction, New Avengers, Ultimate Spider-Man and the 3 mainline Spider-Man books from Marvel. If I'm not careful, I may give in to all the 'net hype and start adding X-Men and Batman books, and from there God only knows where it will stop. More on this as it develops, but I just have to get one thing off my chest: Spider-Armor? Really?

Thea-thea-thea-thea-that's all, folks!

~Jakeman