Andre
So I post today while skimming through the WWE's Andre the Giant DVD,
a re-release of a VHS tape from the 1980s, which I bought a couple
weeks back for $6.99 at one of the big box stores I always swear I'll avoid.
We start off with Andre against Moondog Rex at the Philadelphia
Spectrum, looks to be about 1981. Rex goes for a slam and can't even get Andre's feet off the ground. That's just terrible strategy right there. Rex held the tag team belts with Moondog Spot but he clearly has not adjusted to the singles game, like a decent reliever who can't handle starting duties.
Anyway, the Giant from Grenoble in the French Alps hits Rex with the big boot to the face and referee Dick Whoerle counts 1-2-3. Time of the fall: one minute, 50 seconds, likely meaning Andre was hung over and wanted to get in and out as quick as possible.
(Disclaimer: If you're one of those doubters, one of those people who
are reading this and thinking "dude, wrestling is fake," well, it is a
free country. Believe what you want. But if you encounter the Hulkster
or The Unpredictable Johnny Rodz in a dark alley, don't yell to me for
help, OK?)
*So I heard from Clarkie (Jim, not Tony) again, who is starting to
scare me with his level of baseball knowledge. John Trautwein's career
strikeout victims were: Stan Javier, Rickey Henderson, Jay Buhner, Jim
Presley, Henry Cotto, George Bell, Ray Knight, Pat Sheridan. He sent along the link to Retrosheet.org; which I've clicked on once, but I'm afraid to go back because I think I'll never leave the house again if I do.
Andre takes on the Masked Superstar at Madison Square Garden, around 1984. Now, most hooded grapplers are announced as being from Parts Unknown. The Parts Unknown Athletic Commission apparently had the most lax wrestler licensing standards in history, sort of like Vegas weddings. Anyone could walk in and get sanctioned, no ID required, then go wrestle in any ring around the globe.
But not the Masked Superstar. He proudly hails from Atlanta,
Georgia. If you visit the Georgia State House, you can probably find
his file in the archives somewhere under Superstar, M.
I digress. Andre has gained quite a bit of weight since he fought Rex. Superstar gets in a good amount of offense, including a cobra clutch-looking move, but Andre scores the pin after a not-quite-so-big boot.
*I guess I need to call myself out when I make fun of something and am
completely wrong. Since John Wasdin was called up by Texas, he's
pitched 7 1/3 innings and allowed two hits, no runs, no walks, three
strikeouts. Friday night he pitched a flawless 1 2/3 against the Nats.
Still not sure I'd want him as my setup guy in a big game, though.
OK, Andre is teaming with SD Jones in Poughkeepise, NY, to face Big
John Studd and Ken Patera, managed by Bobby The Brain Heenan.
I don't know what Andre was thinking when he went to SD and asked him
to tag up for such an important match. I would have first asked the Hulkster, The Junkyard Dog, or any random Von Erich brother first (yes, most of them were still alive back then). Putting SD Jones in this spot is quite frankly the wrestling equivalent of the Yanks bringing Javier Vasquez out of the bullpen in Game 7 of the ALCS last year.
Things go from bad to worse. Gilberto Roman is your referee. Gil is
about 4-foot-5, but always seems to get the call when Andre and 6-
foot-10 Big John (who gets under Andre's skin by calling him "Andrea"
and calling himself "The Giant John Studd") square off. There are good
experienced refs sitting around the locker room like Whoerle and Dick
Kroll who could handle this dicey situation. This is probably wrestling office politics at its worst here, perhaps Roman gets the plum assignment because he is dating one of his bosses or something. Either way, he clearly isn't equipped for the job, so I fear for what may transpire here.
Anyway, Patera, who is jeered despite having "USA" emblazoned on his
singlet, quickly makes like Johnny Damon on Vasquez's first pitch and
hurls SD from the ring, who hits his head on the metal barrier and is
rendered unconscious.
Even Andre can't handle Studd and Patera, a former Olympic
powerlifter, by himself. Gilberto Roman is of no use. And, well, uh-oh
... Heenan is in the ring with a pair of scissors, and the three team
up to cut Andre's afro. Vince McMahon, wearing a canary yellow suit, is screaming about the violation of Andre's dignity, and the dastardly trio stalk around the ring
gloating, with fistsful of Andre's hair.
Clearly, Andre is going to get his revenge at some point. But I just
remembered the Cubs and Yankees are on, so we're going to have to
leave him on the mat for now, newly shorn and humiliated.
*Based on the hysteria over the return of Mike Cameron here in
Seattle, I'm half-expecting to look out and see Cammy walking across
Puget Sound. Hold on, let me check. ... Nope, not yet at least. Maybe
later.
*And finally, thanks to the sportswriting and editing site for linking me. When I'm not wasting precious free time watching wrestling from 1985 (then wondering why I can't get a date) and am looking to improve my writing and editing skills, this always proves an invaluable resource.
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