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| Cogent points, quality matches, and sending the kids home happy this week? ¡SI! ¡SI! ¡SI! Photo Credit: WWE.com |
I'm not the biggest Skynyrd fan of all-time - no Tracey Smothers I - but at my essence I am a simple man. I want my wrestling to be the broth, the shrimp and the beef strips, with my commentary to be the sriracha and the hints of mint.
Is that what I got from the first hour that the Miz, Josh Mathews, and Ricardo Rodriguez did commentary together?
Phok yes.
It'll always help that they got two matches to sink their teeth into; the third was an inoffensive though surprisingly short match between 3MB and R-Truth. Sweet-T and B-Clay. However, since the babyfaces failed to appear to Fantastic Voyage with Ricardo singing Truth of Funk on the bridge I'm going to pretend Jinder didn't get sandwiched between the big guys and Little Jimmied into The Time On Sprockets When We Dance the same way Heath Slater sure didn't get kidnapped in the back of an ambulance a week ago.
As for the showcase portion of the evening, when Antonio Cesaro showed up jacketless with no aviators or beret to a Germancentric TitanTron Justin Gabriel should've found a way to zipline out of the arena. In a match that didn't make 300 seconds the Swiss Superman busted out a sick lariat, double stomp, Cesaro Lift, and won moment of the week by putting Gabriel in a chinlock (that he tried to fight off) for over 20 seconds, dropped him, and Neutralized him into so many Twilight references. That's the Cesaro that spawned my mancrush. You may want to watch out for massively charismatic gingers, though, AC.
The three-segmenter featured every TWB writer's FAVORITEST TROPE EVER~!~! as the moment it was revealed Sheamus and Wade Barrett were going to be in a titlefree match the countdown to the Brogue was on. Yes, that sucks. Yes, I could book the Intercontinental Title better. So could you. So could Amanda Bynes. All that out of the way - no small beer where I'm concerned - this is still a match worth you finding 20 minutes to dial it up. The fun thing about this Euro-on-Euro violence when it happens is that they just wail on each other until the Brogue Kick happens, and when you're watching somebody actually fight for a suplex in this day and age it tickles all the fun nostalgia neurons. Barrett got to do things like the Cactus elbow, a nasty Yakuza kick, and a dropkick in front of an audience so rabid for the Big Paleo that they thought somebody was actually going to lose to Wasteland in 2013 and chanted "This is awesome!" Hell, even on commentary Mizanin managed to sound somewhat magnanimous putting over the named portions of the Barrage. And Ricardo got so excited he rambled in Spanish, after setting the haHA! table and tenor of the evening with the sage advice "From experience, I would just say duck the kick."
Wade Barrett would've done well to listen, but that championship is like wishing for the Rapture at this point. Even so, an above-average episode of Main Event suggested the winds of change are blowing and not just blowing hot air for once in a post-Layfield era.
It's still no NXT, though.
Is that what I got from the first hour that the Miz, Josh Mathews, and Ricardo Rodriguez did commentary together?
Phok yes.
It'll always help that they got two matches to sink their teeth into; the third was an inoffensive though surprisingly short match between 3MB and R-Truth. Sweet-T and B-Clay. However, since the babyfaces failed to appear to Fantastic Voyage with Ricardo singing Truth of Funk on the bridge I'm going to pretend Jinder didn't get sandwiched between the big guys and Little Jimmied into The Time On Sprockets When We Dance the same way Heath Slater sure didn't get kidnapped in the back of an ambulance a week ago.
As for the showcase portion of the evening, when Antonio Cesaro showed up jacketless with no aviators or beret to a Germancentric TitanTron Justin Gabriel should've found a way to zipline out of the arena. In a match that didn't make 300 seconds the Swiss Superman busted out a sick lariat, double stomp, Cesaro Lift, and won moment of the week by putting Gabriel in a chinlock (that he tried to fight off) for over 20 seconds, dropped him, and Neutralized him into so many Twilight references. That's the Cesaro that spawned my mancrush. You may want to watch out for massively charismatic gingers, though, AC.
The three-segmenter featured every TWB writer's FAVORITEST TROPE EVER~!~! as the moment it was revealed Sheamus and Wade Barrett were going to be in a titlefree match the countdown to the Brogue was on. Yes, that sucks. Yes, I could book the Intercontinental Title better. So could you. So could Amanda Bynes. All that out of the way - no small beer where I'm concerned - this is still a match worth you finding 20 minutes to dial it up. The fun thing about this Euro-on-Euro violence when it happens is that they just wail on each other until the Brogue Kick happens, and when you're watching somebody actually fight for a suplex in this day and age it tickles all the fun nostalgia neurons. Barrett got to do things like the Cactus elbow, a nasty Yakuza kick, and a dropkick in front of an audience so rabid for the Big Paleo that they thought somebody was actually going to lose to Wasteland in 2013 and chanted "This is awesome!" Hell, even on commentary Mizanin managed to sound somewhat magnanimous putting over the named portions of the Barrage. And Ricardo got so excited he rambled in Spanish, after setting the haHA! table and tenor of the evening with the sage advice "From experience, I would just say duck the kick."
Wade Barrett would've done well to listen, but that championship is like wishing for the Rapture at this point. Even so, an above-average episode of Main Event suggested the winds of change are blowing and not just blowing hot air for once in a post-Layfield era.
It's still no NXT, though.