Best: WrestleCon makes dreams come true
Last week’s hiatus was due mostly in part to the fact that my boyfriend and I were on our way to New York/New Jersey for Chikara and various rassles-filled situations. These included watching the lovely and handsome Dan Barry pretend to be Sabu, Athena and Ayako Hamada tear the house down (WITHOUT EVEN ASKING PERMISSION FIRST, I MIGHT ADD), my heart exploding with joy in a million different ways at Chikara, and something or other that happened on Sunday.
WrestleCon on Saturday was basically a hug-filled parade of joy and hugs, and were it physically possible I would have exploded in a shower of rainbows and sparkly unicorn stickers by lunchtime. It’s a good thing I didn’t, because one of my birthday presents from Brandon ended up being this:
That’s right! That’s Mike Knox! You know, from WWE and also hugging me at WrestleCon? In short, he remembers making the video for me in Texas, now understands that I couldn’t come see The Eights because Canada, and hugged me so hard that he almost broke my glasses. Ilu, TNA bit player who just shows up and smiles and punches people. Ilu so much.
Worst: CHAVANDEZ, NOT MY CAMPEONES
It’s always incredibly frustrating when the outcome of a match is telegraphed right off the bat. Oh, this is Chavandez’s home state? Oh, they’re coming out with some guy waving a Texas flag? Oh, there’s a stipulation that if they lose, they’ll never be able to tag together again? Well…fudge.
This is a prime example of one of the drawbacks of Impact always being on the road. Storytelling and continuity can very easily get lost in trying to please an unpredictable live crowd. The argument that we’re living in a post-kayfabe era is never more valid than when a title is won or lost on a wrestler’s home turf. As easy as it is for me to believe that there are anthropomorphic time-traveling ants from the future, or that Wes Brisco is mentally competent enough to ride a motorcycle, it’s situations like this that make it blatantly clear that this is a real-life business with monetary goals to be met and a few thousand in-person fans to be made happy in the short-term whilst the rest of us at home are miserable in the long-term.
The match itself isn’t even anything particularly special. The first two falls of the mandated best of three come all too quickly, so we’re basically left with a two-segment match we’ve seen before, and will probably see again given that there are really only three teams in the tag division, and one is busy participating in the AJ Styles after-school special. I can’t even really give Mecha Shiva a best, because everyone is just going through the motions, and it’s as bad as Sarah Michelle Gellar’s singing voice.
Best: Aces & Eights ARE SO EXCITED
I struggled a lot with bests this week, I’m not going to lie. I always feel like the biggest a-hole wrestling fan after going to a really fantastic independent show, because coming back to a major promotion is always so disappointing. You’ll never see me happier than when I’m at a Chikara show, and you’ll never see me more miserable than during the first WWE or TNA show afterwards. I had a blast at Raw this week (for the most part), but WrestleMania continually felt like a waste of my time and the $200 we spent per ticket. As such, I always look for touchstones during a show – reminders of why I continually watch and pay money into a company who doesn’t give me the same experiences I treasure from independent wrestling. A reminder of why I don’t just give up major televised wrestling shows and spend all of my time and money on old AWA episodes, JWP DVDs, and traveling to wherever I can see Jessicka Havok kick the bejeepers out of anyone and everyone.
As much as I criticize what has happened in the past, and the stalling efforts of a storyline that shows glimmers of brilliance, it’s almost comforting to see a few seconds of “the Eights” yelling and revving their engines and getting hyped up for Bully Ray’s match against Alphonse Elric or whatever. It’s short and it’s dumb, but it’s so painfully TNA that it becomes endearing. And hey, there’s WWE’s Mike Knox, smiling and standing on his hind legs like a little Rory Calhoun. I hugged that guy once and it was glorious.
Worst: Corpus Christi, you awful mother-effers
I’m sorry, are you BOOING Joseph Park? Joseph Park, brother of, you know, Abyss? Joseph Park, attorney at law, trained Impact Wrestler and Impact Star? Joseph Park, future recipient of the biggest, most loving hug I can muster? I don’t know how I can give you a bigger Worst, but when I find out, you better believe you’re getting it.