Black Widow
04-03-2009, 11:18 AM
To hear the hype and to believe the bluster, you’d think nothing less than light, goodness and freedom from eternal damnation were on the line in Sunday’s encounter between Shawn Michaels, aka the Heartbreak Kid, and the Undertaker, aka the Deadman from Death Valley, during WrestleMania XXV at Reliant Stadium.
Truth be told, it’s really just an old boy from San Antonio, Shawn Michael Hickenbottom, against an old boy from Houston, Mark William Calaway, engaged in the loosely choreographed but nonetheless full-contact representation of competitive athletics that the WWE bills as sports entertainment.
It’s the grandest day on the WWE’s calendar, but WrestleMania also is a day at the office for a cast of characters that includes former high school athletes from San Antonio, Houston, Silsbee (former Olympic shot putter Mark Henry) and Sweetwater (former NFL player John “Bradshaw” Layfield).
When they hit the ring, they will be the latest representatives of a tradition that stretches back almost a hundred years in the Bayou City, where pro-wrestling titles have changed hands as long ago as 1914.
Current WWE storylines dictate that on Sunday, Michaels will be cheered to the rafters, Layfield will be booed, and the Undertaker will be greeted with hushed awe.
All three, though, have at one time or another fallen in line with most of the true greats among Texas pro wrestlers who have made their mark as pure, unadulterated heels — the men you love (and pay good money) to hate.
“I was not very good at being a good guy, but I’ve always been a good villain,” Layfield said. “I enjoy taking the crowd on the roller coaster and making the good guy look good or making people feel sorry for him. To me, that is true theater.”
WWE television announcer Jim Ross, who, as a native Oklahoman, generally has strong opinions about Texas and Texans said, “To be a good wrestling villain, you’ve got to have personality.
“I don’t know if it’s in the water or the barbecue sauce, but a lot of kids come out of these successful Texas high school football programs with a lot of confidence. They are confident in their ability to rile up the crowd at the right time.”
Since the 1960s, more than a dozen Texas wrestlers have held world titles in the WWE, the National Wrestling Alliance or the defunct American Wrestling Association and World Championship Wrestling. With few exceptions, most got there as heels or, as in the case of WWE Hall of Fame inductee “Stone Cold” Steve Austin (aka Steve Williams of Edna), outlaw characters who became fan favorites.
Stan “The Lariat” Hansen, who was billed as the Bad Man From Borger (even though he was born in Knox City), was among the most hated heels in the business during his run as AWA champion in the mid-1980s.
Now retired and living in the Waco area, where his son is a baseball player at Baylor University, Hansen falls back on familiar stereotypes to explain why Texans make such good heels.
“It’s us against the world — Texas against the rest of them,” Hansen said. “It works everywhere. It goes back to Texas character, all the things about Texas once being a separate country. It was instinctive in a lot of the guys I know who helped me get into wrestling, like Terry Funk (another WWE Hall of Fame inductee along with his brother, Dory Funk Jr.).”
Tully Blanchard from San Antonio was a member of one of the greatest heel contingents ever, the NWA’s Four Horsemen. Steve McMichael, the former Texas Longhorns and Chicago Bears defensive lineman, was a Horseman, too.
Today, Layfield, who enters the arena in a stretch limousine as a caricature of Dallas’ swaggering J.R. Ewing, is perhaps the most faithful follower of traditional Texas villainy.
Ross’ early favorites, though, also included a former Texas high school player who was never a heel — Wahoo McDaniel of Midland, who played football at Oklahoma and in the NFL before turning full time to the squared circle.
“I think the heritage of the Texas football player turned wrestler is something that the guys take a great deal of pride in,” Ross said. “Of course, Texans have great pride in their sports, in their barbecue and their universities. It’s something they grow up with.”
Michaels, who bills himself as Mr. WrestleMania, certainly fits that category. As a high school player at Universal City Randolph, he idolized the Funks, Blanchard, Ted DiBiase and other familiar faces.
“I found myself wanting to pattern myself after the Texas guys I saw on TV,” he said. “You really start to grasp and realize that we really are different from everyone else, and it goes deep.”
And on special occasions, such as WrestleMania, a brawl of national import can be just another in-state rivalry. That was the case in WrestleMania XIV in 1998, when Michaels met “Stone Cold” Steve Austin in a match refereed by former world heavyweight boxing champ Mike Tyson. Austin won to become WWE champion.
Under different circumstances, though, the two could have met 16 years earlier. Both were high school seniors in 1982, and both attended Class 3A schools in South Texas. Austin’s Edna team, however, failed to make the playoffs, so the two never met on the football field.
Under different circumstances, though, the two could have met 16 years earlier. Both were high school seniors in 1982, and both attended Class 3A schools in South Texas. Austin’s Edna team, however, failed to make the playoffs, so the two never met on the football field.
“That’s phenomenal,” Michaels said. “That’s a wonderful story. I had no idea that Steve and I could have met on the gridiron many years before we met in the ring.”
chron.com
Truth be told, it’s really just an old boy from San Antonio, Shawn Michael Hickenbottom, against an old boy from Houston, Mark William Calaway, engaged in the loosely choreographed but nonetheless full-contact representation of competitive athletics that the WWE bills as sports entertainment.
It’s the grandest day on the WWE’s calendar, but WrestleMania also is a day at the office for a cast of characters that includes former high school athletes from San Antonio, Houston, Silsbee (former Olympic shot putter Mark Henry) and Sweetwater (former NFL player John “Bradshaw” Layfield).
When they hit the ring, they will be the latest representatives of a tradition that stretches back almost a hundred years in the Bayou City, where pro-wrestling titles have changed hands as long ago as 1914.
Current WWE storylines dictate that on Sunday, Michaels will be cheered to the rafters, Layfield will be booed, and the Undertaker will be greeted with hushed awe.
All three, though, have at one time or another fallen in line with most of the true greats among Texas pro wrestlers who have made their mark as pure, unadulterated heels — the men you love (and pay good money) to hate.
“I was not very good at being a good guy, but I’ve always been a good villain,” Layfield said. “I enjoy taking the crowd on the roller coaster and making the good guy look good or making people feel sorry for him. To me, that is true theater.”
WWE television announcer Jim Ross, who, as a native Oklahoman, generally has strong opinions about Texas and Texans said, “To be a good wrestling villain, you’ve got to have personality.
“I don’t know if it’s in the water or the barbecue sauce, but a lot of kids come out of these successful Texas high school football programs with a lot of confidence. They are confident in their ability to rile up the crowd at the right time.”
Since the 1960s, more than a dozen Texas wrestlers have held world titles in the WWE, the National Wrestling Alliance or the defunct American Wrestling Association and World Championship Wrestling. With few exceptions, most got there as heels or, as in the case of WWE Hall of Fame inductee “Stone Cold” Steve Austin (aka Steve Williams of Edna), outlaw characters who became fan favorites.
Stan “The Lariat” Hansen, who was billed as the Bad Man From Borger (even though he was born in Knox City), was among the most hated heels in the business during his run as AWA champion in the mid-1980s.
Now retired and living in the Waco area, where his son is a baseball player at Baylor University, Hansen falls back on familiar stereotypes to explain why Texans make such good heels.
“It’s us against the world — Texas against the rest of them,” Hansen said. “It works everywhere. It goes back to Texas character, all the things about Texas once being a separate country. It was instinctive in a lot of the guys I know who helped me get into wrestling, like Terry Funk (another WWE Hall of Fame inductee along with his brother, Dory Funk Jr.).”
Tully Blanchard from San Antonio was a member of one of the greatest heel contingents ever, the NWA’s Four Horsemen. Steve McMichael, the former Texas Longhorns and Chicago Bears defensive lineman, was a Horseman, too.
Today, Layfield, who enters the arena in a stretch limousine as a caricature of Dallas’ swaggering J.R. Ewing, is perhaps the most faithful follower of traditional Texas villainy.
Ross’ early favorites, though, also included a former Texas high school player who was never a heel — Wahoo McDaniel of Midland, who played football at Oklahoma and in the NFL before turning full time to the squared circle.
“I think the heritage of the Texas football player turned wrestler is something that the guys take a great deal of pride in,” Ross said. “Of course, Texans have great pride in their sports, in their barbecue and their universities. It’s something they grow up with.”
Michaels, who bills himself as Mr. WrestleMania, certainly fits that category. As a high school player at Universal City Randolph, he idolized the Funks, Blanchard, Ted DiBiase and other familiar faces.
“I found myself wanting to pattern myself after the Texas guys I saw on TV,” he said. “You really start to grasp and realize that we really are different from everyone else, and it goes deep.”
And on special occasions, such as WrestleMania, a brawl of national import can be just another in-state rivalry. That was the case in WrestleMania XIV in 1998, when Michaels met “Stone Cold” Steve Austin in a match refereed by former world heavyweight boxing champ Mike Tyson. Austin won to become WWE champion.
Under different circumstances, though, the two could have met 16 years earlier. Both were high school seniors in 1982, and both attended Class 3A schools in South Texas. Austin’s Edna team, however, failed to make the playoffs, so the two never met on the football field.
Under different circumstances, though, the two could have met 16 years earlier. Both were high school seniors in 1982, and both attended Class 3A schools in South Texas. Austin’s Edna team, however, failed to make the playoffs, so the two never met on the football field.
“That’s phenomenal,” Michaels said. “That’s a wonderful story. I had no idea that Steve and I could have met on the gridiron many years before we met in the ring.”
chron.com