Andreas Hale: A Reviewer Who Got Canned from ESPN for Having a Spine

 

Bray Wyatt (R.I.P.) vs. Shawn Michaels: Schrodinger's Wrestler

 

Shayna Baszler vs. J. Edgar Hoover: Untapped Potential

 

Mike Sempervive from F4WOnline vs. Drake Wuertz from Parts Unknown...and Let's Keep it That Way

 

Kevin Rudolf vs. Pacman Jones: You Make the Rain Fall

 

Orange Cassidy (AEW) X Vic Joseph (WWE): It Should Be Called NXXXT

 

If you've ever wondered why Booker T won Worst Television Announcer in the Wrestling Observer awards in 2024 and 2025, it's because he constantly sounds like he's having an orgasm at the announce desk. Stephanie Vaquer would have gotten over regardless, because she's a star.

Booker T vs. Triple H

 

The "award-winning announcer" Booker T got buried in 2003 when Triple H not only made a bunch of racist jokes about him, but also beat him decisively at Wrestlemania and got no comeuppance for it. Now it appears the only burying going on is burying the hatchet between the two of them, so that they can join TKO in their quest for milking the fans' wallets for all they're worth with a mediocre product and high ticket prices.

Ridge Holland vs. Triple H

 

Michael Cole vs. Booker T

 

Jim Ross X NXT Fan

 

Bill DeMott f.k.a. Hugh Morris

 

A Chosen Destiny by Drew McIntyre

BOOK TITLE: A Chosen Destiny

AUTHOR: Drew McIntyre (ghostwritten by Sarah Edworthy)

YEAR: 2021

GENRE: Nonfiction

SUBGENRE: Wrestling Memoir

GRADE: B

If you’ve watched WWE from the late 2000’s to the 2020’s, you’ve seen the Scottish Psychopath Drew McIntyre on your screen, whether he was an arrogant heel, a brawling monster, or the WWE Champion during the pandemic era. If you want to hear his turbulent story about how he got to that pinnacle and all the obstacles between him and glory, you’ve cracked open the right book. I need to warn you, though, that this book reads like a lot of pro-wrestlers’ memoirs: a childhood dream turned reality with an overabundance of show-don’t-tell violations. Emotional moments that deserved time to breathe barely get a few sentences to describe how Drew was feeling in that moment, which is a shame considering some of the trauma he went through. “I was angry.” “I was sad.” “I wanted to wreck everything.” Not all of the writing is like this, but most of it is. That’s to be expected from celebrity memoirs. If that kind of milk-toast style bothers you or you’re not already part of the wrestling bubble, you may want to keep this book shelved. Otherwise, enjoy the ride!

If you can excuse the bland writing style, then you might be moved by some of these legitimately heartbreaking stories he tells. Winning the WWE Championship in an empty warehouse with no fans to cheer him on is the ultimate bittersweet moment in his career. It’s not nearly as soul-crushing as losing his physically disabled, yet highly optimistic mother to cancer in the middle of his WWE career. Or how about the time when he kept showing up to work plastered because alcohol was the only thing that brought him peace? What about the time when he was fired from WWE along with nine other wrestlers like he was an expendable foot soldier? These are all moments that would destroy any reader if they were explored in depth and with a more descriptive ghostwriter. They still tug at the heartstrings. They still hit me where it hurts. But like I said in the first paragraph, these legitimately painful moments needed time to breathe and develop. Just like Drew was robbed of his Wrestlemania crowd pop, we were robbed of a face full of tears. How’s that for irony?

I wrestled with myself (no pun intended) when trying to decide between a B or a C grade for this memoir. Ultimately, I settled on a B, because Drew McIntyre has an interesting enough life to justify penning a memoir. The way he talks about his obsession with wrestling as a kid and how he brought that fandom into his everyday life? That’s the stuff dreams are made of. Completely transforming his diet and lifestyle after getting fired by WWE? That and touring relentlessly on the indie circuit was exactly what he needed to get back into the company. Getting cheered on by his family in Scotland and his wife in America? That’s what kept him going every night. And then he eventually won the WWE Championship, but that, according to him, was only the beginning of much bigger plans. His newfound work ethic was an admirable thing to see in his process of maturity. But again, it would have meant more with better writing.

A Chosen Destiny is an interesting read, but only if you already follow wrestling. Maybe that was the whole point behind the marketing techniques. Maybe it doesn’t have to be massively appealing to be successful. Should I be more forgiving of books that have a super-niche audience? I’d like to think that’s a good idea. Maybe that’s why I’m being generous with my B grade instead of dropping it to a C. It is a good book for what it is, but I would only recommend it to other wrestling fans. In that respect, the memoir did its job. Drew McIntyre, on the other hand, will hopefully never have to do a long string of jobs ever again. Wrestling fans know what that means.

Bipolar Rock n' Roller

MOVIE TITLE: Bipolar Rock n’ Roller

DIRECTOR: Haris Usanovic

YEAR: 2018

GENRE: Sports Documentary

RATING: TV-MA for language

GRADE: Extra Credit

Canadian farm boy Mauro Ranallo wanted to be a sports announcer since he was just a little kid. With unlimited energy and an infectious attitude, he was a perfect fit from an early age. However, the stresses of fame along with the death of his best friend Michael caused him to have a breakdown when he was nineteen years old. He was later diagnosed with bipolar disorder, a mental illness that hospitalized him eight times over his lifespan. He still tried to maintain an announcing career despite his ups and downs. In today’s world he is a much-appreciated part of WWE NXT’s commentary team. The Wrestling Observer Newsletter has awarded him Best Television Announcer from 2015 through 2017 and it’s easy to understand why: his passion is genuine and his energy is unstoppable.

You don’t have to be a sports junkie in order to appreciate Mauro Ranallo’s struggles. Bipolar disorder and mental illness in general is a life sentence for all it affects. Even with medication, exercise, therapy, and doing all the right things, you can still have high days and low days. Some days you feel like you can take on the world and other days you just want to stay in bed and never wake up again. Watching Mauro have a depressive episode where he cries is heartbreaking. You feel for this man. You want him to get better. You want him to live the life he’s always wanted to live. Every failure and every rock bottom moment will hit you hard. If it doesn’t, you need to have your pulse checked. My brother and I both suffer from mental illnesses and Mauro’s episodes are all too familiar, whether it’s the tiredness, the crying, or the suicidal thoughts. Nobody wants to see Mauro Ranallo commit suicide, but he came very close to doing so on several occasions.

But on the other side of his long and exhausting journey is a light at the end of the tunnel. By virtue of conquering his demons and doing what he loves most for a living, Mauro Ranallo is an inspiration to us all. If he can follow his passions, the rest of us can too. If he can open up about his struggles, we all should be taking notes. He reminds us over and over again that people with mental illness are not alone in this world. We’re not crazy. We’re not stereotypes. We’re living, breathing human beings and three-dimensional characters. If we have to do art therapy to get through our days, then so be it. If we have to take medication, it has to be done. If we have to find a place to live where marijuana is legal, by all means, go for it. If you can see tomorrow, you must be doing something right.

Mauro Ranallo was not a perfect human being growing up. His behavior made a lot of people angry from coworkers to family members to his ex-girlfriend. But hearing his story from beginning to end gives humanity to all the “crazy” behavior. I love three-dimensional people. I love it when the ordinary becomes the extraordinary. I love it when the underdog can conquer it all, which is really what sports like MMA and pro-wrestling are all about, really. For those reasons, Bipolar Rock n’ Roller gets an extra credit grade. We love you, Mauro. Don’t ever doubt yourself again.

Goodbye WWE

***GOODBYE WWE***

I’ve been watching WWE television since 1991 with a brief vacation from the product during the Attitude Era. I’m sorry to say that now I’ll be taking a permanent vacation from the product here in 2018. I tried to hold on. I tried to see the silver linings. I tried to remain faithful purely out of habit and hope. But Raw and Smackdown have gotten so unbearable to watch that I just can’t do it anymore. I don’t care about the wrestlers as characters, the ones I do care about are being made into walking punch lines, and all of this under a three hour and two hour show respectively just makes watching WWE a miserable experience.

That’s not to say that I’m abandoning wrestling completely. This is the same form of entertainment that inspired me to write a novella called Occupy Wrestling, which isn’t doing so well in terms of sales or ratings, but it’s still my baby and I love it. There are certainly other wrestling shows outside of WWE. New Japan Pro-Wrestling constantly gets praised by hardcore fans, but the one promotion I really want to start watching is Lucha Underground, which is presented in the form of a dark fantasy serial drama rather than a pure wrestling show. I want some dark magic in my wrestling, damn it! I want necromancy! I want creatures! I want death (fictional, of course)! And the best part about this? Lucha Underground is on Netflix and I can binge watch it anytime I want. All I have to do is figure out how my brother’s TV works, because his is the only one that has Netflix access.

You won’t get necromancy in WWE. You know what you’ll get? Toilet humor. Unfunny kid jokes. Terrible storytelling. Lackluster pay-per-views. NXT call-ups who fail on the main roster. The list goes on and on until the end of time. I’m not even going to get into Most Disgusting Promotional Tactics this year, because those award nominations are peanuts compared to a boring product. I kept watching throughout the years because I hoped things would change and eventually get better. I’m still waiting for that change. I’m still waiting for Vince McMahon to step down and relinquish control to someone else. Nope. Not happening. I’ve waited too long and now it’s all over.

So what do I do now that WWE Raw and Smackdown are no longer going to play on my TV? I’ve already mentioned the possibilities of watching New Japan and Lucha Underground. But what about non-wrestling shows that I’ve missed out on over the years? James’s TV is capable of digging up those old shows and I can watch them anytime I want. I could finally watch “A Room With No View” from Millennium and cry my eyeballs dry while wanting to heal Landon Bryce. I could binge watch Outlander and cry even harder when Jamie Fraser gets raped at Wentworth Prison by Captain John Randall. I could watch Gilmore Girls and cry happy tears instead of sad ones. I could watch Dragon Ball Super and take back my anime fan card. I could watch Game of Thrones and bypass the slow-paced books altogether. Or I could cry my ass off once again watching a dark comedy show known as BoJack Horseman. Goddamn, that’s a lot of crying! Could my 2007 record be broken by one of these shows?

As long as I’m looking for hobbies outside of writing, reading, and fucking around on my computer, what else could I do to keep my brain from sinking into a depression? I could play the keyboard and get my musical magic working again. I could play videogames with my brother even though noobs are shunned by the gaming community. I could do some more photography, but with different subjects. I could carve things out of my five million soap bars. I could make plans to travel the world even though plane rides are a literal pain in the ass. So many possibilities, all of which could keep me entertained long enough to avoid overeating out of boredom. Yes, eating out of boredom is a real thing and it’s one of the reasons I’m still overweight.

Shit, man, there are a lot of things I could be doing that are better than watching WWE. I could shove a cactus up my ass. I could have my cat Piper perform a lobotomy on me with her claws. I could jam a screwdriver up my dickhole. I could listen to “Love Is Blue” by Paul Mauriat over and over again while having a cute girl tell me how much she loves my mediocrity, although that’s not fair to Paul Mauriat since that’s actually a relaxing song. I could do Tope Suicidas down the staircase, to reference wrestling once again. I could perform a circumcision on myself with a steak knife. I know I’m exercising my hyperbole muscles when I say these torturous things are better than watching WWE, but certain podcasters like Jason Solomon and Greg Morgan would actually agree with me if they read this.

I’m only one and a half pages into this rant and already I feel as though a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Goddamn, that was liberating! I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain! Or in this case, if you feel like dying, turn off WWE Raw!

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER RELOADED***

I figured these blogs would be a good opportunity to track my progress on Beautiful Monster since I can’t post the chapters online. I’ll go ahead and say that the prologue is finally written and I have twenty-seven more chapters to write, including an epilogue. I like the fact that I could stretch Windham’s introspection out into 1,500 words, but I fear he’s still an emo kid of sorts. I’ll try to tone that shit down in the oncoming chapters. Chapter one is where Windham will get captured and taken to Shelly’s bedroom for sex slavery. Windham can bypass the dungeon altogether, because Shelly is head over heels in love with him. Sound familiar?

***CONCERT QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“I asked myself the question. I wrestled with myself. Should I put this out there? Should I put this out there? Should I put this out there? Are people going to embrace it or are people going to stab me in the fucking heart? And I said fuck it, I trust them. I’m putting it out there. And if it happened to me, it probably happened to someone else. Hopefully, this song will help anybody that this has happened to. I want you to know that you’re never alone. This is a song called Hush.”

-Chad Gray, lead singer from Hellyeah-

***POST-SCRIPT***

In case you follow my posts about concerts and are curious, no, I haven’t been to a Hellyeah show before and I might not get the chance now that Vinnie Paul Abbot is dead. That makes me sad. Who’s cutting onions around here? I’m not crying, you’re crying! I’m not watching Outlander, you are! I’m not watching A Room with No View, okay, you get the point by now. Rest in peace, Vinnie Paul.

Five Finger Death Punch X Breaking Benjamin Concert

***FIVE FINGER DEATH PUNCH X BREAKING BENJAMIN CONCERT***

These past few days have been so mentally exhausting that all I could do creatively was the easiest fucking thing in the world for me: write songs. I can only imagine how I’ll feel the morning after my upcoming concert Monday night. I’m headed back to the White River Amphitheater to see a show co-headlined by Five Finger Death Punch and Breaking Benjamin with Bad Wolves as the opening act. It’ll be my second time seeing FFDP, third time seeing BB, and first time seeing BW. That’s a lot of heavy goddamn metal.

I’ve been a fan of Five Finger Death Punch since 2012 when I first heard the song “The Bleeding” on Pandora Radio. At first I was tentative to buy any of their CD’s because of the bad reputation they have. And then I remembered that negativity is subjective and public opinion doesn’t mean everything. I purchased their “Way of the Fist” album and loved the shit out of the title track as well as songs like “Ashes”, “Death Before Dishonor”, and “A Place to Die”. From that first album, I was hooked and had to have their entire catalogue. In November 2016, I saw my first Five Finger Death Punch concert and I was blown the fuck away. I love how Ivan Moody (the lead singer) always invites small children onstage with him during one of the more intense songs. With bands like Death Punch, the future looks bright for the next generation of heavy metal!

I was first introduced to Breaking Benjamin when they opened for Korn in, I want to say, either 2003 or 2004. It wasn’t until a few years later that I discovered their “We Are Not Alone” album and was hooked on tracks like “So Cold”, “Breakdown”, and the beautifully peaceful “Rain”. Just like with Death Punch, I had to have Breaking Benjamin’s entire catalogue. I didn’t see them in concert again until 2016 when they opened for Disturbed at the Pain in the Grass festival. Now here we are two years later and they’re opening for another badass band.

Bad Wolves didn’t come out with their first album until earlier this year. Because they’re going to open for this show, I had to purchase the music in order to get better acquainted with it. Let’s just say it was a wise use of my debit card. My favorite song on that CD so far is “Officer Down”, a fast-paced, brutal track that sets the tone for the entire album. However, I’ll always remember them for their cover of “Zombie” by The Cranberries, which was supposed to be recorded with Dolores O’Riordan’s vocals before she died earlier this year. Now she’s smiling from heaven at the excellent work Bad Wolves did with her song.

I still have a few days before this concert at the White River Amphitheater begins, so I’m going to try and get as much creative work done as I can during the time I have left. That includes editing the shit out of Beautiful Monster and getting it ready to be critiqued at Hollow Hills independent publishing (Marie Krepps’s new business). I should have finished this a long time ago, but other creative projects and psychological exhaustion kept getting in the way (so what else is new?). I’ll get it done one of these fucking days. Just six more chapters to edit. Six more chapters!

I’ll be rocking out for each and every one of you! I’m Garrison fucking Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain! Wait a minute, Three Days Grace lyrics in a blog entry about Five Finger Death Punch, Breaking Benjamin, and Bad Wolves? How did that happen?!

***WORD PLAY OF THE DAY***

On WWE’s NXT show, there’s a tag team consisting of Nick Miller and Shane Thorn that used to be called The Mighty Don’t Kneel. What if those two gentlemen formed a three-man group with fellow NXT wrestler Bobby Fish? They’d be called The Mighty Don’t Kneel and Bob. So much for WWE’s PG rating. Hehe!

I Dream of Weird Shit

***I DREAM OF WEIRD SHIT***

I say all the time that dreams are a rich source of creative fuel. They’re like Vitamin B12 for the schizophrenic mind (trust me, this is real science; look it up). Last night’s visit to the subconscious theater was one that qualified as cinematic wizardry. Or a psychotic cluster fuck, one of those two. Either way, I’m going to harvest as much creative fuel as I can from this once in a lifetime acid trip. Here’s how the dream went:

I started the dream by opening a newspaper and reading about male-to-female transgender MMA fighter Fallon Fox confronting Ronda Rousey at one of her press conferences…wielding a crossbow. That’s right, folks. A crossbow. Not a shotgun. Not an AK-47. A crossbow. Nobody around me was asking why Fallon Fox was holding a crossbow. They wondered what kind it was and how many rounds it could carry. This was the one instance where it was okay to complain about unfair advantages in a one-on-one situation. A crossbow, for shit’s sake!

I put down the newspaper and get to work at my family-owned toy store. My occupational dreams have come true; I get to work with toys! I was setting up various Bionicle figures on the display table and even playing with some of them. My videogame playing brother signed a package for a shipment of Double Dragon games…for the PS4. A beat-‘em-up side-scroller from the 1980’s is now on Playstation 4. Where the fuck have Jimmy and Billy Lee been this whole time?! I missed those guys!

And then I actually start to play a copy of the game. Seeing as how it’s on the newest generation of videogame consoles, the game is ten times harder than its Regular Nintendo predecessors. The first level is a ski resort crawling with anthropomorphic wolves carrying big fucking swords. The creatures themselves aren’t so scary. It was when they grabbed Billy Lee and bashed him over the head several times with the handles of their blades that I decided to lower the difficulty and try again.

The ski resort level was the same, but this time I was fighting baby dolls with milk bottles. The same health bar-draining beatdown happens all over again. The dolls force feed me sleep-inducing milk while the other dolls punch and kick me while I’m down. I throw the control and say, “I don’t want to play anymore!”

I couldn’t play the videogame any further anyways, because it was time for me to clock out from the toy store and spends some time with my babysitter. This thirty-year-old man actually has a babysitter! And that babysitter has some cute daughters who are about my age. I tell everybody how beautiful they are and they get creeped out.

Instead of talking about beauty, we watch a TV show about aliens disguised as people roaming the earth and preparing it for an invasion. For the main character, we have a bald guy in a trench coat and a hat with his face concealed as he goes around ratting on these aliens to the authorities. Every time he successfully squeals on an alien, he gets a new identity under the Witness Protection Program and continues roaming the earth to do his detective work. He one time ratted out an entire restaurant because the aliens were making racist jokes about Europeans. Aliens getting accused of xenophobia: the irony could not be clearer.

After the end credits rolled, the closing logo featured a guy getting hit by a car and flying through the air, getting hit by another car and flying through the air, getting hit by a train and flying through the air again, and then getting his nose chopped off by a helicopter’s propellers. In the words of the pilot, “That’s one dead motherfucker!” For some reason, I thought that closing logo was the most hilarious thing I’ve ever seen.

I woke up this afternoon at about two o’clock and I didn’t want to do anything for the rest of the day. I was so exhausted from ongoing sleep apnea issues that writing was impossible until now. I also didn’t feel like watching WWE NXT or Smackdown this evening, instead electing to watch the NXT Takeover special in Dallas tomorrow night and Wrestlemania 32 on Sunday.

Losing an entire day of potential work to sleep apnea is something that has plagued me throughout my whole career. Some days I’d have energy, some days I didn’t. Today was the latter and I felt awful about it. Not to worry, because I finally scheduled a sleep study which will take place on June 8^th, five days after my 31^st birthday and three days before seeing Slipknot and Marilyn Manson in Auburn. Chances are good I will need an oxygen mask, which I won’t mind as long as it gives me the energy I need in my day-to-day routine.

As of now, I have a short story to write for the WSS and a chapter to edit the hell out of in Occupy Wrestling. Those things don’t just write themselves. At least now I have some funky creative fuel to power me through my short stories. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

***JOKE OF THE DAY***

Q: What do you call it when the voices in your head laugh at you for having dirty underwear?

A: Skids-ophrenia.

WWE Royal Rumble: Dean Ambrose vs. Kevin Owens

MATCH: Dean Ambrose vs. Kevin Owens in a Last Man Standing match for Ambrose’s Intercontinental Championship
PROMOTION: World Wrestling Entertainment
EVENT: Royal Rumble
YEAR: 2016
RATING: TV-PG for violence
GRADE: Pass

Working the independent circuit in professional wrestling will put hair on your genitals. Working that many matches around the world will give you a myriad of styles that will ultimately become your move set. In Mexico, the luchadors fly around the ring like ninjas. In Japan, they hit each other hard enough to turn the human body into one big purple bruise. In Europe, they do the exact same thing, but with emphasis on technical brawling instead of honor-bound martial arts. And then when you finally make your trip to WWE NXT and ultimately their main roster, you’ll have the crowd eating out of the palm of your hand.

Such are the success stories of Dean Ambrose and Kevin Owens, two badass warriors who cut their teeth for over a decade on the independent circuit. Dean Ambrose has United States and Intercontinental Championship reigns under his belt while Kevin Owens has NXT gold and an Intercontinental belt reign as well. At the Tables, Ladders, and Chairs pay-per-view in 2015, it was Dean Ambrose who won his first IC Championship from Kevin Owens. Ever since then, Owens has been in a horrible mood, bullying and brutalizing anybody in his path, Ambrose included.

There was only one way a rivalry of this much hatred could be settled: Last Man Standing rules at the Royal Rumble. There are no pin-falls, submissions, count-outs, or disqualifications. All you have to do to win this match is beat the living shit out of your opponent so badly that he cannot answer the referee’s ten-count. Heel announcer John Layfield put it best when he said the only thing limiting the competitors in this match is their own imaginations.

When you’re called The Lunatic Fringe like Dean Ambrose is, your schizophrenic visions pretty much guarantee you a colorful and violent imagination. Kevin Owens is a brawler by nature, so he’s no less dangerous with a steel chair or a wooden table. Ambrose and Owens wasted no time in putting their violent visions to good use. They started the match by slugging it out and watching each other get dizzy.

Then the action spilled to the outside and things really got chaotic. Kevin Owens was launched over the English-speaking announce table and landed in Michael Cole’s lap, thus breaking the poor guy’s glasses. Once he got power back in his headsets, Cole was actually cheering on Ambrose when he was swinging a bamboo cane at Owens.

Once the toys were out, they didn’t go to waste, no, sir. Kevin Owens power bombed Dean Ambrose through steel chairs, spear tackled him through the time keeper’s barricade, and fisherman suplexed him through a wooden table. And Ambrose was still staggering to his feet ready for a fight! The man doesn’t quit!

Then it was Ambrose’s turn to put a serious beating on his opponent. A double arm DDT on a steel chair would do the trick. So would an elbow drop through the Spanish announce table. And then there were more whacks with the bamboo stick. The steel stairs had seen crashes and burns from both men.

After enduring all of this hardcore violence, you would expect both men to be bleeding, burned out, and ready for ambulance rides. Hell, they hit each other so hard that maybe a hearse was necessary. They stood up on wobbly legs and punched each other some more. Kevin Owens gave his opponent a pop-up power bomb and Ambrose, being the loony tune he was, got up and wrapped a steel chair around Owens’ head before boxing him in the face.

A normal man would have quit under these combative circumstances. He would have nightmares for months and would have chugged enough Xanax to kill an elephant. He would have had hospital bills that most one-percent billionaires couldn’t even afford. These two warriors aren’t normal men. They get up and smash each other some more with steel chairs, bamboo canes, fists, feet, and head butts. And then they smash each other some more. And smash each other some more. At this point, the referee could count to a thousand. He could wait for a whole decade to go by and they would still thrash each other endlessly.

But it was one mistake by Kevin Owens that cost him the match. He set up two wooden tables outside the ring and stacked one on top of the other. Owens was also perched on the top turnbuckle, presumably for a moonsault. And then Dean Ambrose jolted back to life once more and shoved Owens off the turnbuckle, sending the Canadian grizzly crashing through both tables. Owens shivered several times in his laying position, but made no attempt to pull himself to his feet. At the count of ten, Dean Ambrose was declared the winner and undisputed Intercontinental Champion.

With the crowd chanting “This is awesome!” and carrying their momentum into the Royal Rumble match itself, it’s clear there were no losers in this match. Dean Ambrose is the rightful IC Champion, but Kevin Owens is a winner too in my mind. Those two beat the living shit out of each other so badly that they limped their way into the Royal Rumble match. How they weren’t even in wheelchairs was a mystery to everybody there. How Kevin Owens managed to eliminate fellow independent wrestler AJ Styles is beyond me. How Dean Ambrose was one of the final two men in that match left standing is something that would stump Nostradamus.

The fact that two men could put on an apocalyptic brawl and still be able to compete later on in the night should be a testament to how tough pro-wrestlers are. Getting clotheslined or body slammed is bad enough. Being driven through tables, smashed with a kendo stick, and slammed through steel chairs takes more guts than the stomach has room for. It was amazing Dean Ambrose and Kevin Owens didn’t have their own guts spread all over the arena that night. Yes, it’s a TV-PG rated pay-per-view, but you wouldn’t know it from how banged up and battered these ring warriors were afterwards. I’d even say this is an early contender for Match of the Year in 2016. Congratulations, you two. You just made an entire arena full of people shit their pants with excitement. Now it REALLY looks like a battlefield out there!

Most Disgusting Promotional Tactics of 2015

***MOST DISGUSTING PROMOTIONAL TACTICS OF 2015***

With the internet as prominent as it is and with backstage politics as easily accessible as they are, wrestling has easily become the most criticized form of entertainment, even by its own fans. A lot of the negativity stems from certain fans not seeing their favorite wrestlers succeed (Cesaro) or seeing their most hated wrestlers get an elevator ride to the top (Kane). It’s hard to maintain a positive attitude among the spoiled fans, but I’ve managed to do so and enjoy wrestling for what it truly is: entertainment.

Yes, I know this journal is about a negative award given by the Wrestling Observer Newsletter every year. I talk about it often, but not because I’m a negative human being. These award winners and runner-ups are a huge source of creative fuel for me. Creative fuel is essential to the life of an author. That, and I love to shock the shit out of people from time to time. The 2015 WON awards have been revealed and in this particular category, there were seven different candidates (one winner, six runner-ups). I’m going to work my way from the top of the list (the winner) to the very bottom. Starting with…


***AWARD WINNER***

EVENT: WWE using Reid Flair’s death to promote a feud between Charlotte and Paige.

REASON: I’ve talked about this before in the past and I’ll only speak briefly about it in the present. Death is a sensitive subject and to approach it with such classlessness is going to bring a lot of people either to tears or a boiling point. It was the case in 2013 when Paul Bearer’s death was exploited and in 2006 when Eddie Guerrero’s was as well.

EXAMPLE: The Westboro Baptist Church are the worst offenders when it comes to insensitivity toward the dead. They hold up “God Hates Fags” signs at funerals, claiming that God is killing off these now-dead people because America’s approval of homosexuality. I could actually picture a Fred Phelps caricature being used on an episode of WWE Raw and then that manager getting a Worst Gimmick award.


***FIRST RUNNER-UP***

EVENT: WWE botching the Divas Revolution.

REASON: Bringing up three badass female athletes to the main WWE roster seemed like a good idea on paper, but it doesn’t change the fact that WWE women’s matches are much different from NXT women’s matches. In NXT, the women are strong role models and bold risk takers, thus ensuring them five-star match accolades. In WWE, the women are sophomoric and have awkward choreography. In other words, nothing has changed on the main roster.

EXAMPLE: Let’s say for instance there’s a high fantasy story taking place and there’s a war going on between an army of orcs, an army of dwarves, and an army of elves. That’s a lot of goddamn warriors and that has potential for a lot of goddamn bloodshed. But let’s say the warriors get drunk and start fighting like middle schoolers. The best you could hope for at this point is a draw.


***SECOND RUNNER-UP***

EVENT: James Storm pushes Mickie James into an oncoming train.

REASON: I haven’t watched TNA since I gave up on them in late 2011. Having said that, we can all agree that it’s not very nice to push a defenseless woman into a moving train. Obviously, Mickie James didn’t die; it was a way to write her off television. But given the fact that trains are big fucking machines that move at a fierce goddamn velocity, the thought of Mickie James’ guts being spread all over the train station is just gross.

EXAMPLE: I used to watch episodes of Dudley Do-Right where the love interest of the main character would be tied onto railroad tracks while a steam train is blitzing her way. It’s a kid’s cartoon, so obviously the love interest was never splattered into a pile of blood and guts. But if you really think about it, that’s a screwed up way to kill somebody, especially a helpless woman whose only role on the show is to be saved by the masculine hero. That’s like something from Criminal Minds.


***THIRD RUNNER-UP***

EVENT: WWE exploiting Connor “The Crusher” Michalek when giving him the Warrior Award.

REASON: TV shows get accused of exploiting their guests all the time. Dr. Phil does it on a regular basis when he brings rape victims onto his show. The Biggest Loser is basically one big fat joke that spans several seasons. And now you’ve got WWE super fan and childhood cancer victim Connor Michalek being paraded around to show what great guys the WWE are…months before they exploit the death of Reid Flair.

EXAMPLE: I think I’ve already covered the examples when I brought up Dr. Phil and The Biggest Loser. What I haven’t covered is that every October, WWE parades around breast cancer survivors as part of their alliance with Susan G. Komen. The WWE neglects to mention that Susan G. Komen was responsible for de-funding Planned Parenthood and that the CEO of SGK pockets most of the donations.


***FOURTH RUNNER-UP***

EVENT: Lucha Underground televising matches where men beat up women.

REASON: With all of this talk in today’s world about “rape culture” and “a woman’s place”, haven’t these poor girls suffered enough without being assaulted by men on a weekly basis? I will admit that the WWE’s Stephanie McMahon is a pain in the ass and deserves a Worst Gimmick award in the most vile way. It doesn’t change the fact that if she was booked in a match to get a KO punch from The Big Show, the WWE would win this award and not the Lucha Underground. If you want Stephanie McMahon to get her ass kicked so badly, have Ronda Rousey do it; she won’t let you down. Plus, Ronda is all woman.

EXAMPLE: The movies North Country and Iron-Jawed Angels are perfect examples of male supremacy. You’ve got men sexually harassing and physically beating these women all because these females want the same societal status as their dick-swinging counterparts. I’ve seen North Country and it was the most disturbing movie I’ve ever watched. I haven’t seen Iron-Jawed Angels, nor do I want to since it’s basically the same male supremacy over and over again.


***FIFTH RUNNER-UP***

EVENT: Michael Cole doing a broken neck storyline directly after Perro Aguayo, Jr. died from whiplash.

REASON: I’m sure this wasn’t intentional mockery of Perro Aguayo’s situation, but the timing couldn’t have been worse than if it was 2005 and the WWE did a terrorist storyline on the day of the London bombings. Timing is everything when it comes to sensitive subjects. Which leads me to my next example…

EXAMPLE: Back in 2011, Fox pulled episodes of Family Guy, The Cleveland Show, and American Dad off the air because they were all about stormy weather and a hurricane had just past through…I forget where. Imagine that backlash against Fox if they hadn’t pulled those episodes, as if Seth MacFarlane doesn’t catch enough shit already.


***FINAL RUNNER-UP***

EVENT: WWE blackballing Hulk Hogan for his racist remarks in 2012 and then lionizing The Ultimate Warrior, who said just as bad or worse things in public.

REASON: Racism is racism no matter who it comes from. The only difference between Hulk Hogan and The Ultimate Warrior is that the latter is now dead and lionizing him would be the only way to honor his memory. Then again, if praising the dead was standard operating procedure, Chris Benoit would be a first ballot WWE Hall of Famer.

EXAMPLE: Racism is a touchy subject no matter which political or news channel you dial into. Donald Trump shoots his mouth off on a regular basis about Arabs, Mexicans, and black people, yet people cheer him on and encourage it. But whenever Al Sharpton talks about white privilege, suddenly the hammer gets brought down with a stiffness.


***CONCLUSION***

Creative fuel can come from anywhere. As far as the creative fuel from MDPT awards go, this is my way of not allowing tragedies to go to waste. Whenever authors write a story, there has to be a main problem and the protagonist has to go through hell in order to solve that problem. When drawing inspiration from these seven horrifying wrestling stories, think about that for a moment.


***WRESTLING JOKE OF THE DAY***

As long as the WWE is putting together tag teams based on their initials, let’s go old school with the pairing of Sting and Ted DiBiase (Team STD). Don’t worry about them giving you cross-body blocks, because Team STD is easy to catch.

WWE NXT Takeover: London: Bayley vs. Nia Jax

MATCH: Bayley vs. Nia Jax for the former’s NXT Women’s Championship
PROMOTION: WWE NXT
EVENT: Takeover: London
YEAR: 2015
RATING: TV-PG for violence
GRADE: Pass


When you have a dream, the only way to achieve it is through lengthy journeys and honest-to-God hard work. Attaining such a huge goal may take weeks, months, years, possibly even decades, every second filled with the highs and lows of soldiering on. There may be moments when you feel like quitting, but if you do, all of the heartache will be for nothing. You fight, you scratch, you claw, and you bleed until what you want is within your reach. NXT diva Bayley wanted to not only wrestle, but to be a champion that little girls can look up to. When she defeated Sasha Banks in a grueling five-star match at Takeover: Brooklyn, she exceeded expectations. Congratulations, you tough chick. You’ve earned it.

But of course, winning a prestigious championship is only part of the equation. It takes a shit ton of hard work and sacrifice to win it, but it takes even more guts and brutality to keep it. Not only did Bayley successfully do so in a 30-minute Iron Man rematch against Sasha Banks, but also against Alexa Bliss and Eva Marie. That totals three different divas that Bayley scratched off the long list of those gunning for her diamond-encrusted championship. At Takeover: London, she had quite possibly the toughest challenge a woman of her size could possibly have. She had to defend her title against Nia Jax.

Who exactly is Nia Jax? She’s well over six-feet tall, her weight is well-established within the 200’s, she’s a former plus-size model, she has more strength than an entire African jungle full of wild animals, she fights like an army of barbarians wielding blood-stained axes, and she’s a cousin of WWE legend and movie star Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. NXT color commentator Corey Graves wasn’t kidding when he said Nia Jax vs. Bayley was like watching Mike Tyson vs. Manny Pacquiao. In other words, they were both talented fighters, but the weight discrepancy is mind-boggling. Needless to say, Bayley was outgunned big time.

When the actual match took place in London, England, Bayley had two things that kept her alive throughout the match: a speed advantage and a crowd support advantage. About the latter, of course they’re going to fall in love with Bayley. She’s everything a role model should be: strong, positive, and tireless. Since the event took place in England, it was only appropriate that the crowd sing parodies of Beatles songs and change the lyrics to conform to Bayley. Crowd support can bring any wrestler to life, but in the end, that’s all they can do. When it comes to the actual fight, you’re on your own, lady.

Being so many sizes smaller than the ogre-like Nia Jax, Bayley stuck to her own advantages and used her superior speed to avoid being readily disposed of. She threw quick elbows, quick dropkicks, quick forearms, and although these moves kept the giantess at bay for a little while, they didn’t faze the bloodthirsty bitch at all. It would only be a matter of time before Nia Jax would have her turn at offence and goddamn, did she deliver.

While Bayley’s offence could only be comparable to an annoying fly buzzing around, it was Nia Jax who did the swatting. Turnbuckle body splashes turned Bayley’s insides into mush. Three consecutive fireman’s carry back drops smashed her bones into sugar bits. How about a leg drop from a leg that weighs about as much as a fallen tree. How about another leg drop that feels like a falling building, but this time across the left shoulder? All of these hard-hitting, body-smashing attacks were coming from a woman that outweighed Bayley by at minimum 100 lbs. After suffering it all, the super positive super heroine just laid on the ground lifeless, limp, and ready for a hearse. Rest in peace, Bayley-Pie. I’m not The Undertaker, but I’ll say it to you anyways.

But if the RIP analogy is true, then why does Bayley continue to kick out of these bone-crunching moves? The referee’s hand was only a micrometer from hitting the mat a third time and the little angel that could got her aching shoulder out of the pinning combination to avoid losing. Coming back to life repeatedly was only delaying the inevitable according to the sad saps at the commentary booth, which were the Millhouse look-alike Rich Brennan, the always dorky Byron Saxton, and the heavy metal stud muffin Corey Graves.

Bayley wasn’t going to give up that easily. Nia Jax was getting ready to slam the smaller wrestler on the mat in what would be a modified spine-buster. But the little chick wrapped her arm around Nia’s neck and squeezed so hard that her rhino skull was going to pop like a zit. But then Bayley was slammed down hard and lifeless once more. Nia knelt down to pin her and was again caught in that headlock choke. Once again, Bayley was slammed hard on her back and was ready to meet Jesus with a firm handshake.

After a few wheezes and coughs from Nia Jax, the heavier diva knelt down again for a pin attempt and for the third time in a row got caught in the headlock choke. Bayley’s arms don’t look at that big on television, but she might as well have had 24-inch pythons like the immortal Hulk Hogan. She squeezed so tightly that she would prove why that technique was called a guillotine choke. Before the monstrous diva could be decapitated, she tapped out and the referee awarded the victory and the NXT Women’s Championship to Bayley.

Walking through the fiery valleys of hell is a necessary part of achieving hard-fought victories in the WWE. Not only did Bayley walk them in this match, but she dragged her lifeless body across them until she was fingertips away from her milestone. When she slew the beast known as Nia Jax, Bayley was exhausted. She spent the longest time lying on the ground and trying to get to her knees. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she was taken to the hospital after the match was over. But she did it. She’s the biggest example in women’s wrestling of a strong heroine who overcomes the obstacles put in front of her despite the insurmountable odds. Little girls don’t have to grow up to be spoiled princesses. They can grow up and be raging warriors like Bayley. The example she sets for women everywhere is why this match gets a passing grade.

Okay, all you male supremacists out there. I’ve got a question to ask you. Do you still think a woman’s place is in the kitchen? Do you still expect your wives and daughters to cook and clean for you while popping out babies left and right? Raise your hands if you feel this way. Raise them high so that Bayley and Nia Jax can see them and beat the living piss out of all of you. These two women put on a show that nobody is going to forget for a long, long time. If you’d like to forget it so badly, go ahead and trust Bayley with an iron skillet. With one whack upside the head, you’ll probably forget pretty easily. A janitor will have to mop up your brains afterwards, but you’ll forget anyways. For the rest of us who live in the 21^st century, we’ll enjoy this classic women’s wrestling match.

WWE NXT: Eva Marie vs. Carmella

MATCH: Eva Marie vs. Carmella
PROMOTION: World Wrestling Entertainment
EVENT: Episode of NXT
YEAR: 2015
RATING: TV-PG for violence
GRADE: Did Not Finish


Being negative is not one of my strong suits. There was a time when I was young and immature and negativity came naturally to me. These days whenever I give a bad review, a little piece of me on the inside dies a brutal death. With that being said, if I don’t do this review, I feel like it will be a missed opportunity to tell it like it is. This needs to be said even though it’s already being said by tons of people. Hell, the NXT audience at Full Sail University in Florida are vocal every time Eva Marie steps through the gorilla position; they boo her relentlessly.

Carmella, on the other hand, I have no problem with. Yes, she used to be rough around the edges when it came to wrestling. Yes, her theme music gives me migraines. But the difference between Carmella and Eva Marie is that the former is capable of improving her game. Carmella used to get as many boos as her opponent, but after hanging around with Enzo Amore and Colin Cassady for long enough and standing up for her boys, those boos eventually turned to cheers. Maybe it has something to do with her funky dance moves. She can moonwalk, for Christ’s sake. Moonwalk!

Eva Marie doesn’t deserve the same praise as the other divas for her wrestling abilities. In fact, watching her wrestle is as awkward as my schizophrenic behavior in the grocery store line. I understand that she wants to get better and has even recruited the help of wrestling veteran and former WWE Tag Team Champion Brian Kendrick to train her. This isn’t a knock against Brian Kendrick, but when I watched Eva Marie on that episode of NXT battling Carmella, I didn’t see improvement. I saw drunken choreography without the breathalyzer test.

Here’s how the match went down. Carmella and Eva Marie got in several collar elbow tie ups and the latter had the former pinned against the corner for a series of unconvincing elbows to the face. Eva Marie’s strikes looked more like massage therapy than combat. So what does Carmella do? She throws that Jessica Rabbit clone through the ropes and lets her crash and burn on the steel ramp. And then Carmella did a little spinning dance and the moonwalk to excite the crowd. Eva Marie eventually got back in the ring and gave her opponent a series of weird-looking vertical suplexes. There were even times when Eva was setting up the move and it looked like she was having a tough time deciding which wrestling move to do.

Before my IQ dropped any further, I grabbed my Roku remote and fast forwarded through that match. I never figured out who won, nor did I care. If watching this match doesn’t make your brain hurt, listen to this. Eva Marie has actually been picking up wins since debuting in NXT, presumably to be pushed into contention for the NXT Women’s Championship, which is currently held by Bayley, a true wrestler in every sense of the word. Really, NXT? You’re the hottest thing going on in wrestling today and you want to push Eva Marie into the main event? You’re right. Eva Marie is red hot. Her matches burn my eyes!

If there is a God in heaven, then He will do the right thing and inspire the readership of the Wrestling Observer Newsletter to show Eva Marie no mercy in the award votes. She’s definitely qualified for Most Overrated, Worst Worked Match of the Year, and even Most Disgusting Promotional Tactic for botching the ending to an NXT match she had against Billie Kay. Either that or she’ll win the latter award just for being pushed. Bob Backlund, Jose Gonzalez, and Eric Watts are all wrestling legends who were given the Most Disgusting Promotional Tactic award just for being the recipient of a main event push. However, if WWE continues to insult their fans for buying pay-per-views instead of subscribing to the WWE Network, Eva Marie might get a reprieve from the MDPT award.

I need a shower. A long, boiling hot shower with easy access to my Head and Shoulders shampoo and my Axe Phoenix body wash. Writing this review didn’t feel good. Then again, negativity is never therapeutic no matter which channel it comes out of.