Monday morning... The first time I've watched a WWF pay per view live and not ended up getting three hours sleep. This is due to the 6 hour time difference. The first time in a while that I've watched a WWF pay per view with company. This is due to the fact I am the only WWF fan in my immediate peer group. For once in my life I managed to put both of these problems right with style. I went to Wrestlemania with the company of my host, the gracious and ever-lovely Sarah, and some 67000 other WWF fans. What more could a man ask for?

Well, aside from a minor lottery win and a chance to participate in a Ladder Match between Lita and Molly Holly. In this scenario of course I would be playing the part of the ladder...

Moving swiftly on from my sordid imagination there is one other thing that a hardcore WWF fan could possibly want. That of course is the chance to meet and greet some of Vinnie Mac's 'wrasslers at WWF Axxess. This is something I also had a chance to do on Sunday morning. Thankfully the organisers had noticed that I was a Brit and had laid on specific entertainment for me that followed a fine old English tradition.

Queuing.

Yep, we queued to get in. I'm secretly amazed that my cadaverous English complexion didn't burst into flames after having to stand in the Houston sun for two hours. The miracle of sun block. (Factor 2004: Effective against UV rays, direct sunlight, Nuclear fallout and some sidearms.) Once we had queued to get in then we had a chance to queue for a chance to do a little fantasy play by play. My commentary on the TLC match was subpar to say the least, not merely because I forgot how to speak English on at least two occasions. I fully expected to turn around afterwards to see Tony Schiavoni, Chris Cruise, Steve McMicheal, Rob Bartlett, Todd Pettingill, Kevin Kelly and Art Donovan leading a rousing chorus of "You're shit and you know you are."

Then we really got to the quality queuing. The chance to stand in line for the best part of an hour for three seconds of tongue tied admiration in front of the WWF superstar of your choice. Fortunately Sarah and myself had a strategy that involved my standing in line while she strolled down the front to see who was wielding pen and pad. D-Lo Brown, as much as I admore your work, I wasn't in the mood to be elbowed in the back for 90 minutes to shake your hand and mumble something about hoping I never saw you in a turban again as long as I lived.

To be honest. when Mark Henry is wheeled out for a signing session you can be pretty certain that all the big guns are resting in preperation for that Wrestlemania thing that they're doing later. In the end I did get a couple of autographs for my trouble, almost purely from a nostalgia point of view. My pitiful play by play video cassette ( Which thankfully will not work on any UK VCR.) is now proudly bearing the signatures of Bobby Heenan and Gene Okerland. I'm pleased to say that "The Brain" was friendly enough with a handshake and a thank you to my heartfelt but slightly tongue-in-cheek "Welcome back to the family". On the other hand "Mean Gene" was a little less responsive. Might have been my impenetrable accent. Maybe he's just preoccupied because he has a new hotline number to learn.

In any case I owe a heartfelt apology to anyone whom I promised to try to get autographs for. But in my defence they quite simply were not there!! I toyed with the idea of faking a couple but decided that my immortal sould could do without the tarnish that comes from blatantly defrauding fellow WWF fans.

By this point, the best part of two hours of fighting crowds and queues was beginning to leave me feeling somewhat disillusioned with the whole experience. Thankfully, a saviour was at hand. His name? K-Kwik.

Wandering past the Arena stand I suggested to Sarah that we take a seat in the nakeshift bleachers. Partially because I was hoping for a bit of Kaientai related japery. Mostly because my dodgy knee was reminding me in no uncertain terms that I'd been putting weight on it since 8am. We took our seats and out strolled Lillian Garcia for a Q&A session with K-Kwik. It was tremendous.

He took questions from the floor on everything from Road Dogg to the aquisition of WCW and came off as articulate and sharp-witted in every way. He even fielded my question about what he thought of his odds from Williams of being WWF champ on New Years Eve. A brave soul in the crowd even challenged him to a dance off despite quite obviously having two left feet and being soundly humiliated. Based on how well K-Kwik bonded with the fans I'd seriously consider pushing him up the ladder right now. Aiming him at new European champ Eddie Guerrero could be fun.

In fact I'd have been happy to sit and watch Q&A sessions all day but it quickly became apparent that we had seen all there was to see. We shrewdly made a break for it before we were faced with the ignominy of having to queue to get out too...

There's not really a lot to add as far as Wrestlemania itself goes. You'll either have seen it or read about it by now. Suffice to say that sitting in a building with the best part of 70,000 screaming fans is an experience I'll not forget in a hurry. There wasn't a truly bad match in sight and more than one was a true match of the year contender. There are a few things that stick out especially...

The deafening roar of approval when Bradshaw cut an excited promo about wrestling in the place he camre to all the time as a child. The even more deafening roar of approval as he decapitated Goodfather with the clothesline from hell.

Sixty seven thousand people telling William Regal and Kurt Angle that they do, in fact, suck.

The same sixty thousand people going mental at the sight of the Van Shaneinator. Not to mention the sight of Vince getting his grapefruits juiced by his better half.

Damn near everything in the TLC match. Unbelievable. We seem to make a habit of praying they don't have another one of these so they don't kill themselves trying to top the last one. This time we mean it!

The fact that the entrances for the Battle Royal were longer than the match. For once this was exactly the way it should be. I wonder how many of the participants were Steve Lombardi...

The Undertaker and HHH working the crowd up to a fever pitch and keeping them there to the finish. The ovation when 'Taker kicked out of the sledgehammer shot was incredible. The ovation he got after the last ride put that in the shade.

And finally...

Steve Austin walking out in front of a full dome of people in Texas. 'Nuff said.

I'll be back to my cynical self next week but for now this is Chris Brooker: Wrestling Fan saying Good Fight, Good Night.

Oh yes and a massive thankyou to Sarah for taking me into her home and being the best host anyone coould have ever asked for. Between your fanatastic cooking and your patience in explaining everything from tipping barmen to crossing a road and not getting run over you are a star beyond compare and I will worship you daily until the day I die.

Which will be soon if I cross the road while looking right instead of left again.

Chris Brooker
[slash] wrestling

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