Worst: It’s not about money, or fame…
It’s all about wrestling. And the fans. And jet packs. Definitely jet packs.
Worst: Kenny King of Trios
So because we are embroiled in a wishy-washy “let’s forget our differences and divide into two alliances without every really explaining why our characters would be motivated to do so other than I’M MAD and I AM A JUDGEY DICKHOLE” storyline, MVP has “the balls” (and the rest, because damnit he needs to rethink how flattering his gear is) to accept Bully Ray’s demand for a six-man tag.
Last week Davey Richards was carried out on a stretcher, his body somehow stiffer than his wrestling, but he remembered that he is who he is, equipped his Invincibility red brick, and soldiers on through the match. Maybe my favourite thing about this match is how he sells his injury more on the wolf howl than he ever does on offense.
Austin Aries’ favour has gone up and down in this column over the year and a half I’ve been writing it, and that’s fine. That’s fair. Contrary to popular belief I don’t just arbitrarily pick things to hate and then never change my mind ever (see Magnus, I miss you Cool). Austin Aries has been wandering in Impact purgatory, where he doesn’t really have a character, per se, he’s just a placeholder. Gone are the days of drunk Austin Aries standing on Hogan’s desk, or legitimately entertaining matches against Bobby Roode or, bless his heart, Samoa Joe. Anything he’s doing right now could easily be done by anyone on the roster. He was mad, and then he wasn’t, and now he is again, so he’s going to fill a spot on Team Impact for Lockdown or whatever. He doesn’t have a great dynamic with any of these fellows he’s standing toe to toe with, and the weasely smarm that ends up being his most endearing and attractive trait has no place in this angle. As such, we’re left with half-hearted wrestling that brings out the very worst of reasons people dislike Aries. The stutter steps, the excitable-puppy shaking and jumping instead of fluid, meaningful movements. I still enjoy the heck out of his brainbuster, but his infuriating freshly-caught-trout method of selling is a weird (nay, super sh-tty) way to show solidarity with Eric Young.
The mega-worst thing about this match is that I forgot at least four times that Eddie Edwards was in it.
Yeah. I know. Yeah. It’s amazing how taking two seconds to address something logically will earn a best for someone who is…not. Anderson is mad that Gunner went to see Sam Shaw, and points out to “Dr. Phil….Shatter” that he has a team of doctors and staff members there to address his mental health, and Gunner isn’t actually a licensed professional who can help in any way. Gunner rebuts that he and Anderson have both served in the military, and have seen first-hand the trauma people can bring back with them. Maybe Shaw is the same, and he just needs some help. Anderson, somehow the voice of reason…reason…in all of this correctly points out that Shaw did not serve overseas, he’s a legit psycho and they are far from the same things. None of this explains why they’re teaming together, but a million Thank Yous to Mr. Anderson for taking two seconds to stop acting like a hyper two-year old to point out that conflating PTSD with being a violently disturbed sexual predator are super duper not the same things.
Worst: Ménage à Huh?
Anderson and Gunner teaming up makes…very little sense, as they’re definitely allowed to talk to each other without being forced into convoluted tag team matches that serve no purpose other than to…lord, I don’t even know at this point. I guess it’s to set up…this? The Menageries comes out to…do a thing…which I will explain…maybe…at some point…???
They’re wacky! And crazy! It’s madness! It’s…oh my god, it’s this: