Best: Los Angeles Loves Brock Lesnar
Brock Lesnar really does have it. Say what you will about how they’ve booked him or how indestructible and god-like he should or shouldn’t be, but Brock seems important, and when his music hits people stand up and pay attention. That’s what they mean by “legitimacy”. Not that you think he’s “good”, it’s that you think he’s important. I think that’s what Nash’s stupid ass was getting at when he said Benoit and Guerrero winning the titles was bad for wrestling … they were GREAT, the greatest wrestlers in the world, but they’d spent nearly 20 years each being a passed-on handyman mid-card guy by nearly everyone they worked for. They were great, the greatEST, but they weren’t necessarily important to an audience like this.
Brock is important. They should throw as much money at him as they want and keep him as a Big Match Guy until his intestines fold in on themselves and he can’t go anymore. That stomach sell is legit, and maybe it’ll eventually be a Boy Who Cried Wolf thing, but we’ve seen him actually go down to it in real life, so going down to it in Fake Life is perfect.
Also perfect: saying f**k you to Triple H and arm-barring him because the pedigree is dumb.
Best: The Best Parts Of Los Angeles Hate Triple H
The “You Tapped Out” and “Na na et. al Hey Hey Hey Goodbye” chants for Triple H were the most heartwarming moment of my wrestling life. I was so excited to hear them. Brock Lesnar left holding his stomach and looking hurt while Triple H MANNED UP~ and overcame a broken arm to stand up on his own power and linger for like 20 minutes so we’d give him a Hogan respect “GOOD JOB GOOD EFFORT” pop. He didn’t get it. He got shit on, like he deserves, because he’s never vulnerable when it counts and when he pretends like his career is over or his arm is broken or whatever you don’t believe it, because dude walked away from a crane accident like nothing happened.
If Triple H wanted to earn the pop, he’d do what Shawn Michaels learned to do — get beaten up from time to time before the actual match. Let Batista f**k you up a little before you get to stagger up from a powerbomb and superkick him. You’re a great storyteller when you want to be and you put on these long, epic matches that go 30 minutes when they should probably go 15, so imagine how great it’d be if you put that much effort into the build, too? You’d probably be as GOOD as Shawn Michaels. Coolest toughest smartest and most in-charge guy in the room is not somebody we want to cheer on to victory, unless we’re a fat shirtless guy on Tout throwing crotch-chops because he’s got the brain power of a f**king potato battery.
The kid turning his back on H was icing on the cake. So was the light “Triple H” chant when he’d gotten all the way up the ramp, which sounded a hell of a lot like “okay, christ, here’s the chant you want, just leave already so we can go home”.
Best: Making WWE’s Official Tout Page With My Snotty Thing About H
Yep, this is me, if the Team Johnny shirt didn’t give me away. From the official WWE Tout page:
My only regret is that they didn’t video package it for Raw.
Worst: Trying To Check A Brock Lesnar Chair At LAX
I got to keep my SummerSlam chair, but it cost me 25 bucks to check it at the airport. You know, plus the indignity of checkin in, then picking up a WWE chair at baggage claim in front of everybody. Bonus: the chair is Brock Lesnar from the SummerSlam poster and his face is right on the seat, so when he stand up and look back at it it’s Brock with his mouth wide open and liquid all over his face like you just went to the bathroom all over him.
Bonus Best: Meeting Best And Worst Fans
This was the coolest part of the entire trip. I met a lot of people who read the column (and had a gentleman from Game Informer magazine say, “Oh, you’re the guy whose girlfriend likes Kane, right?” … seriously) and shared a lot of wrestling stories (and I sat next to Shoemaker at the show … ask him about me incessantly), but the one long-time readers of Best And Worst may be most interested to know about is my vegan chinese food dinner with Chris, aka With Leather commenter LastTexansFan.
Eventually I’m going to take a mark photo with all of you.
Best: Top 10 Comments Of The Night
Tweeting and liking is not the way to earn the Sandow Martyr badge. To conform to such a deplorable and degenerate act would be, in itself, proof of how desperately you need to be led from the doldrums of ignorance into a new age of enlightenment. Instead, to obtain the badge, you must perfectly recite the soliloquy of ‘now I am alone’ from the timeless play, Hamlet. Only then will you be considered worthy to add the badge to your collection, and show that you have emerged from the unwashed masses. You’re welcome.
That looked more like a Balls of Jericho, AM I RITE?
Chekhov’s Spanish Announce Table
Don’t remind US not to drink-drive, WWE! Remind your roster!
Little known fact, Miz only got on The Real World due to his position in the Court of Owls
Tobogganing Bear and Tobogganing Bear (tie)
The way I feel about AJ right now is the way a lot of people feel about Weezer in their Make Believe period.
“You won’t have ol’ Triple H to sledgehammer around anymore.”
Hey Kevin Rudolf, did you see Fred Durst earlier? He’s the ghost of your Christmas future.
That awkward moment when you realize that you never learned a damn thing about actual fighting in a 20 year wrestling career.
As he watched the crowd finally turn on Triple H, Mr. Stroud’s heart grew three sizes big that day.
It would have been cooler if Brock broke both is arms and HHH just log rolled up the ramp.
See you tomorrow for the Raw report, which should be up by what, 4 AM Thursday morning? Jesus, I need to hurry up with these things.