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| Well, yeah Photo Credit: WWE.com |
As WWEME wound to the end, seeing Drew McIntyre against Mark Henry on the board was like seeing Heat/Bobcats come up on an ESPN crawl, or Upton/Jessica Parker on a bracket in my overheated head. It wasn't a matter of if but when, and after finding out DMac was sans his business associates, I put the over/under at 150 seconds.
Surpisingly, the match went that long. It didn't pass 180, however, and ended as you might've guessed (see above).
The best part of the World's Strongest Showcase was McIntrye defiantly yelling his being unafraid, followed almost immediately by Mark tossing him over the top off a collar and elbow tieup and yelling WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU, BOY! About the only thing about Henry that's different from a month ago is the hoi polloi are cheering now. Fellow former dicerollers can safely jot down the pride of Silsbee as a Chaotic Good.
His running buddies and fellow nonbelievers the Usos put in some modicum of work just beforehand to put down the Prime Time Players, and here's something I feel weirdly proud to be saying. I think the Usos might be too good for this show now.
Despite JBL and Josh at the table speculating that the Usos might end up being the Charles Barkley to the Shield's MJ, the brothers worked in the whole litany of their athleticism on their way to a double superkick - Superfly splash combo to get rid of the PTPers. Heck, you even had a Jannetty oversell off of a clothesline, the running butt splash, and a post-match boogie to show these apples got about 1.8 an inch from their family tree. When they threw up the double shaka on their way out, the crowd followed in suit. I wouldn't be stunned if this was their last appearance before becoming the Campeones del Parejas del Mundo. Since they look so alike when they're flying around the ring maybe their surnames are just signifiers standing for Unidentified Samoan Object
Speaking of questions, have you ever seen anything advertised as the resistible force v. the movable object? That's what happened in the opener, as R-Truth went against Wade Barrett while I sat dumbfounded that they remembered what offense felt like. Even Sojourner didn't do that much to open, as it mostly consisted of armdrags and yelling WHAT'S UP!?; when JBL was more entertaining than the offering put forward and described not only Barrett's post-WrestleMania decline into irrelevancy but this match and their careers lately by saying "There's something about him that's just not clinking." No, John, that'd be everything. But have another belt, by all means, no matter how passive-aggressive frosty Josh wants to get at the booth. Not enough of us functioning alcoholics in the world.
As it turns out, Truth is officially the Mr. Irrelevant of the E since Barrett survived not only his old finisher but his new one too before smacking him with the Hammer on a dive attempt to pick up his first win in five months. It was enough to make one want to run around the house yelling BARRETT WINS! B-B-B-B-BARRETT WINS!
The Briton may never get to have his own equivalent of the Hall of Pain, but he doesn't need to be mired in McIntyreville or Truth Junction, either. Hell, he could always throw it off and become a Real American. But watching a bunch of talented guys bust tail and only the Usos start to reap the benefits of a slow rise up the meter, you start to see the problem in WWE's roster being so loaded they can put on a Perfectly Cromulent Wrestling Hour even half-staffed: not everybody gets a Haka, or Three 6 doing their theme.
And when those things are happening, millions of dollars becomes a phrase instead of the truth.
Surpisingly, the match went that long. It didn't pass 180, however, and ended as you might've guessed (see above).
The best part of the World's Strongest Showcase was McIntrye defiantly yelling his being unafraid, followed almost immediately by Mark tossing him over the top off a collar and elbow tieup and yelling WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU, BOY! About the only thing about Henry that's different from a month ago is the hoi polloi are cheering now. Fellow former dicerollers can safely jot down the pride of Silsbee as a Chaotic Good.
His running buddies and fellow nonbelievers the Usos put in some modicum of work just beforehand to put down the Prime Time Players, and here's something I feel weirdly proud to be saying. I think the Usos might be too good for this show now.
Despite JBL and Josh at the table speculating that the Usos might end up being the Charles Barkley to the Shield's MJ, the brothers worked in the whole litany of their athleticism on their way to a double superkick - Superfly splash combo to get rid of the PTPers. Heck, you even had a Jannetty oversell off of a clothesline, the running butt splash, and a post-match boogie to show these apples got about 1.8 an inch from their family tree. When they threw up the double shaka on their way out, the crowd followed in suit. I wouldn't be stunned if this was their last appearance before becoming the Campeones del Parejas del Mundo. Since they look so alike when they're flying around the ring maybe their surnames are just signifiers standing for Unidentified Samoan Object
Speaking of questions, have you ever seen anything advertised as the resistible force v. the movable object? That's what happened in the opener, as R-Truth went against Wade Barrett while I sat dumbfounded that they remembered what offense felt like. Even Sojourner didn't do that much to open, as it mostly consisted of armdrags and yelling WHAT'S UP!?; when JBL was more entertaining than the offering put forward and described not only Barrett's post-WrestleMania decline into irrelevancy but this match and their careers lately by saying "There's something about him that's just not clinking." No, John, that'd be everything. But have another belt, by all means, no matter how passive-aggressive frosty Josh wants to get at the booth. Not enough of us functioning alcoholics in the world.
As it turns out, Truth is officially the Mr. Irrelevant of the E since Barrett survived not only his old finisher but his new one too before smacking him with the Hammer on a dive attempt to pick up his first win in five months. It was enough to make one want to run around the house yelling BARRETT WINS! B-B-B-B-BARRETT WINS!
The Briton may never get to have his own equivalent of the Hall of Pain, but he doesn't need to be mired in McIntyreville or Truth Junction, either. Hell, he could always throw it off and become a Real American. But watching a bunch of talented guys bust tail and only the Usos start to reap the benefits of a slow rise up the meter, you start to see the problem in WWE's roster being so loaded they can put on a Perfectly Cromulent Wrestling Hour even half-staffed: not everybody gets a Haka, or Three 6 doing their theme.
And when those things are happening, millions of dollars becomes a phrase instead of the truth.