Welcome to part two of Bouts With Clout, the review that lifts the lid off 1999 without taking ample safety precautions.

For those that missed the first of these friendly little gatherings, I - the omnipresent Elliot Sparks - am trawling through my favourite matches of the last 12 months. That doesn't mean the biggest and best matches will all get reviewed, but the ones that rubbed me the right way are all present and correct. Without further bladdering, let's take a peek at February. It's the month best known for coming between January and March, but I remember it for such legendary wrestling shows as, uh ......

I'll get back to you on that 'great shows' thing.

On with the review!

This was the first singles meeting between the lead face and lead heel of Ultimo Dragon's Toryumon, and it was packaged as the semi-final of the NWA Middleweight title tournament. Or, to be correct, the totally disorganised NWA Middleweight title tournament. If you want an impression how disorganised the tourney was, note that this was the semi-final of the tournament - with 'the' being a singular term. The other semi apparently disappeared into the netherworlds of misguided booking, never to be seen again. Even more worrying, the man who did win the semi didn't make it to the final. This was a bit on the shifty side, if you catch my drift. Nonetheless, any weak and foolish booking was compensated by this match; as you're about to read, it a fine way to kick off any month.

The main story of the match was that Shiima's buddies, Crazy MAX, were determined to lynch Magnum Tokyo, and most of the bout built around that idea. Unfortunately. After some unimportant back 'n' forth exchanges between Tokyo and Nobunaga, the tidal wave of interference began. With referee Ted Tanabe apparently a very indecisive blind person, he failed to notice Crazy MAX triple-teaming Magnum just ten feet away from him. While I contemplated cheap jokes about Ted's samur-eyes, the heels hung Magnum in the Tree of Whoah! to deliver the promised lynching. Instead, Shiima planted him with an awesome flying dropkick. Shiima followed up with his super-neato slingshot senton and the People's Legdrop, but missed something vaguely resembling a tumbleweed from the second rope. This gave Magnum a break, so he planted Nobunaga with a nice top rope rana, but went to the floor and got the glitter beaten off his back by Crazy MAX - which drew a big pop from the crowd. To an even bigger reaction, Shiima followed up with a somersault plancha - sponsored by Greasy Thug Wrestling Tights.

Back in the ring, Magnum hit another top rope rana and a German suplex for two. One Viagra Driver later, and Ted Tanabe was mysteriously occupied with the rest of Shiima's merry men. Tokyo gave up waiting for the ref to come back in time for the fall, so he rolled Shiima up in a La Magistral that eventually scored two. A second Viagra Driver cued another Tanabe disappearance, so MAX-sympathiser Taru ran in with a low blow on Tokyo. Shiima capitalised with the Iconoclasm for another near fall, followed by a Misterio/Kidman style facebuster. A superplex was duly blocked, but some of Shiima's sub-Liger shotays cleared the path for a second Iconoclasm, followed by a frog splash for the 17:52 finish. Post match, the tidal wave of interference reached low-budget disaster movie proportions, as all four heels - Shiima, Sumo, Judo and Taru - stomped this, that, and the other out of our hapless hero. Somewhere in the mess, Shiima supposedly injured his knee, which he suspiciously over-sold. This was later revealed as a clever ruse, allowing Shiima to win the match without advancing in the tournament, or something equally bewildering ....

In my eyes, there are two types of interference; interference that works, and interference that doesn't work. Technically, this interference worked - it drew in the crowd, and made the match more dramatic than the BBC adaption of Pride and Prejudice. But to be a bit more honest, it was interference that didn't work. It might have had the intended asthetic effects, but it really broke up an otherwise excellent match. Maybe there was too much of it, maybe it was too badly organised, or maybe Ted Tanabe's blind referee act was just a little too hokey - but for whatever reason, the constant run-ins just didn't work for me. Thank God there were some bits where Crazy MAX didn't interfere.

***3/4

Neatly obeying the laws of the space/time continuum, we move from the semi-final to the final of the Middleweight title tourney. As the conscious among you will have guessed, Magnum advanced by forfeit after Shiima Nobunaga was injured in the semi, and a lesser-known fact is that Sasuke advanced by beating Gran Naniwa in a quarter-final. As evidenced by its exclusion from the review, the Sasuke/Naniwa match wasn't worth Max Mini's weight in salt. Thankfully, a bad situation was again compensated by the end result: this match. As you're about to read, it was a little bit excellent - even better than the semi would've been without interference .... Following Magnum's supreme dancing-through-the-crowd entrance, the match was underway. Even though Sasuke was technically a heel, this played out like a traditional Japanese face/face matchup, beginning with a slow, respectful exchange of holds on the mat. Strangely for Sasuke and Tokyo, that's where the majority of the match remained - and even more bizarrely, it actually worked. After eight minutes of canvas-oriented limb manipulation (mat wrestling, for normal-speakers), things picked up with some super-fast cross ups, ending with Tokyo dropkicking Sasuke to the floor. He followed up with a fairly accurate tope and a blinding apron moonsault, and both teased a countout. As soon as they got back in the ring, they got back out again, and Sasuke set up the dreaded Japanese Table. Those bastards are stiffer than Chris Benoit's chops, and they break every time Hell freezes over. In other words, you just don't mess with a Japanese Table. It immediately stuck its proverbial middle finger up at Sasuke and Tokyo, taking the weight of both men without flitting an eyelid. Then, in a really sick spot, Sasuke suplexed Magnum off the apron and right onto the table. Then, out of nowhere, Sasuke flew from the heavens and crushed Tokyo with a tope con hilo onto the table! Ouch. Sasuke continued the insane streak by missile dropkicking Tokyo - from the ring ropes onto the table. Double ouch - and move of the match, too.

Back in the ring, Sasuke continued racking up Air Miles with a quebrada for two. After mucking around with some leg-based, submission-oriented, twirly-whirly thingumybobs, Sasuke left his guard open and ate a Tokyo Cutter. Magnum followed with a second rope moonsault and a La Magistral, which only registered two. Sasuke rolled through the top rope Bump 'n' Grindensteiner for a near fall, and caught another near fall with a creamy-smooth German suplex. Going for his finisher, the Thunderfire powerbomb, Sasuke let Magnum swoop behind him and hit the best Dragon suplex this side of Shinjiro Ohtani. Sasuke sold this like his head had imploded, reeling around in absolute agony - but with Sasuke's dodgy skull, there's a good chance he wasn't actually selling the move. Regardless, Tokyo followed up with an equally nasty Viagra Driver (pumphandle Michinoku Driver), and hit a nice shooting star press - but instead of going for the cover, he played up a back injury, which looked a little suspect. Still, Sasuke recovered and plastered his junior with a mean somersault senton. One Thunderfire powerbomb later, the time was 21:51, and the new NWA Middleweight champion was the Great Sasuke! But things didn't end there, as Crazy MAX arrived - to kill their buddy Sasuke, nonetheless. Various Toyumon undergraduates failed to help the new champ, but as a neat surprise Taka Michinoku made the save, making his first Sasuke-related appearance in more than a year. Ultimo Dragon soon joined the reunited couple, and the show closed with a Sasuke/Michinoku/Dragon/Tokyo love-in. Ahhhh ....

Marking the start of Sasuke's streak of superbity, this was a wonderful match. It was the perfect end to a great opening week for Toryumon - it had surprisingly sound mat wrestling, some downright awesome bumps, and the most dangerous flying this side of Air Chechnya. It was also nicely paced, so it was obviously going to run a long time - but it's construction didn't give us a clue how long that would be. That's a good mix of expectation and intrigue. The highlight was the sequence leading to the finish - it might have been odd in places, but it was a great combination of killer moves and psychology. The selling of the injuries was convincing on both parts, and the finish was great fun on second viewing. The post-match angle only added to the special occasion, and I think we've got our Match of the Month. To be more accurate, I know we've got our Match of the Month. I just didn't want to annoy the other matches by making a big song and dance of it.

****1/2

Throughout January, February and March, Tajiri and Crazy spent ludicrous amounts of energy destroying their cardiovascular systems with impossibly fast-paced spotfests. With six TV matches against each other and countless house show barneys, they produced the most workrate-intensive feud of the year. But, to reinforce my image as a baby-kissing saint of fairness, I've only chosen one of those matches to represent the entire feud. Just to make things even more confusing, I've chosen the most workrate-intensive of the lot, which we lift from ECW's February 12th commercial tape: Crossing the Line Again.

Literally kicking off, Super Crazy dropkicked Tajiri at the bell, followed up with the walk-up backflip kick, but ate an awesome standing kick to the face. Tajiri followed with a suplex into the crowd, a beeyouteeful Asai moonsault, and a neatly-applied Tarantula. Crazy flipped out of a tilt-a-whirl to hit a mean Ligerbomb for two, before locking on a surfboard. As if knocking Tajiri into the xenophobic populus of New York wasn't bad enough, the luchadore followed with an amazing Crazy special - a springboard moonsault into the crowd! Back in the ring, another springboard moonsault earned him a two count, and an even bigger moonsault earned yet another. Going for yet another moonsault, Crazy got crotched and tied in the Tree Of Whoah!

Tajiri followed with the stiffest baseball slide you'll ever see, giving Crazy the world's first instant facelift. Continuing the drive for a concussion, Tajiri hit pair of Deadly Kicks and a seated dropkick, before scoring two with a German suplex. He then ducked Crazy's running, jumping, super-kneedrive thing, and the luchadore flew to the floor. Attempting to leave Joey Styles totally breathless, Tajiri immediately followed with a somersault plancha, but ate a Diamond Dust DDT as soon as he got Crazy back in the ring. Supes tried to follow with a powerbomb, but Tajiri countered with a wicked DDT of his own, scoring his last near-fall. This left Super Crazy to hit a kick to the face, three springboard missile dropkicks, and a springboard frog splash for the pin in a meagre 8:21. A round of applause is in order, methinks.

If you saw this match, you'll instantly see why it was the best of a great feud. It was simple, uncomplicated stuff, but that's what Tajiri and Crazy do best. Their Guilty As Charged match was let down by their weakness in the psychology department, and their Living Dangerously match was let down by the overkill of repetetition. Their House Party match was closest to this in terms of simple, straightforward ass-kicking, but it was too short, too sloppy, and nowhere near as hot as this lil' beauty. Wild, wild horses shouldn't keep you from this match.

****

Do I need to explain the story here? Well, no - but I might as well recap a bit of the feud, just for the sake of completion. Basically, in the month before SVDM, Vince McMahon beat Steve Austin in the pathetic, over-cooked Royal Rumble, beat him again in a pathetic, over-cooked Gauntlet match, and saturated us with over 6,000 airings of No Chance In Hell. In short, this was a lot like the Rock/Foley Last Man Standing match; part of a good feud, but coming off a bad patch as far as TV was concerned. Nobody expected anything worthwhile - but everyone was wrong, and this was the end result ....

Steve Austin entered first, giving him time to parade around the ring, playing to the crowd. McMahon entered second, showing off that woefully wrinkled-- er, wonderfully toned physique. To his credit, Vince did look the part in his wrestling gear - but looking tough did seem slightly counter-productive to me, considering his role in the match. Still, The Action/Adventure began when Austin gave up waiting in the cage and chased Vince around ringside, until the boss ended up in the ring. Austin tried climbing in the cage, but Vince kicked through the door to keep him at bay. Instead, Stone Cold tried climbing over the top, but again Vince swung enough cellulite to keep Austin back. Then Steve slipped off the cage, apparently spraining his ankle as he landed. This was, of course, a ruse - as soon as Vince came out of the cage, Austin plastered him with a clothesline on the floor! He then wanged the boss into tables and the cage, before choking him with a convenient electric cable. Knocking McMahon into the front row was a bit pointless, since Austin's vantage point was more limited there than at ringside - but let's not hold that against him.

After the oh-so exciting in-crowd sequence, Austin whipped McMahon into the ring steps. And by now we were four minutes into a match that hadn't actually started, which was odd. Equally odd was Vince's comeback, punching Austin and knocking him down with a whip into the cage. He then went into the crowd to taunt The Archetypal Rebellious Employee, supposedly luring him into a Corporate trap. This was the main story of the Royal Rumble, for those that forcibly removed that match from their memory. As such, the taunting can be considered an emotive dramatic effect, not that anyone particularly cared. Still, Austin bit the bait. Thankfully, he caught Vince before he escaped the arena, and beat him back to ringside. The two then began scaling the side of the cage, with Austin smashing Vince's head into the top rail. Then, in a bump that still looks amazing, Vince flew back from hitting the cage, falling back-first through the Cursed Spanish Announcers' Table! The crowd went nuts, as if you didn't guess. Unfortunately, the replay took the mystique out of the bump, as the slo-mo close-up made the bump look way too contrived. But I mustn't grumble.

At this point, the Action/Adventure turned into a Medical Drama. With Vince laying dead on the twitching carcass of Hugo Savinovich, the EMT's arrived - with Barbara Bush not among their number. They stretchered Vince up the aisle, while perceptive viewers could hear Jerry Lawler looting Savinovich before the undertakers arrived. Howard Finkel went to announce Austin as the winner of the match, which would have made no sense since the match hadn't even begun, but Stone Cold thankfully stopped him. He correctly called the decision bullshit. He said if Vince was still breathing, he would still beat him, so the action resumed in the aisle. Austin wanged the stretcher and its occupant into the cage, battered Vince with the backboard, and finally rolled him into the ring. After 13 minutes of action, the bell finally rang, and Austin began to deliver the promised beating. He planted Vince with a clothesline and two second-rope elbowdrops, and went to leave through the door - but Valiant Vince mustered the energy to flip him off. Of course, this brought Austin back into the ring, where he layed in with those fists o'fire.

Vince hit back with a low blow, but Austin caught him as he went to escape the cage. After lamely smashing the Corporate mush into the metal, Stone Cold tipped Vince back into the ring. He then threw McMahon into the cage face-first, and the boss began juicing from the forehead. Again, Austin went to escape but Vince flipped him off, cueing Austin to return to work. Climbing back inside, Steve-o drilled McMahon with a Stunner, which Wise Man Michael Cole called the 'highlight' of the match. But then, as Austin trash-talked over Vince's prone body, Paul Wight burst through the canvas! Looking like a big scary bloke with a haircut you only see in barber shop windows, Wight immediately launched Austin into the cage. He then dragged Vince to his feet, and the boss did his mad professor routine. On Vince's instructions, Wight picked Austin up on his shoulder and again tossed him into the cage - but Austin hung on, the cage swung open, and he dropped down to the floor! In an 'official' 7:50, Steve Austin (w/gravity and a cleverly engineered cage) made it to the floor, securing his title shot at Wrestlemania XV. The show came to a close with Vince stood steaming mad in the ring, while Wight just stood and steamed ....

One reason Vince could be upset is that the bell-to-bell time was less than eight minutes, when the full fight lasted nearly 21 minutes. And to give he and Austin great credit, those 21 minutes flew like a caffeine-powered luchadore. It was scripted down to the last detail, but it was obviously very well rehearsed, because there weren't any blatant signs of script-dependency. Everything fitted nicely, from the bumps to the blood to the debut of Paul Wight, and this was a superb way to end the Austin/McMahon feud. Or at least it would have been a superb way to end it, if the feud hadn't continued all the way into early summer. And finally, I admire Vince for doing what he did in this match - but not for the danger of what he did. I admire the way he worked; everything was executed well enough to be believable and fun. The fact that there's nothing to complain about is exceptional, considering the limitations of everything about this match. But a rating will have to go amiss, I'm afraid. This was more of a hugely extended angle than a wrestling match, and it would be unfair to rate it in comparison to regular bouts. Even though I'm tempted to call it **** to annoy Herb Kunze, I'll try to be fair and equal. With that in mind, let's just call this

VOID

This was installment six of the Mankind/Rock saga, following on from their supremely fucked-up efforts on Halftime Heat. Judging by the lame comedy of the Empty Arena match, not many people expected this to be worthwhile. Sometimes it's nice when the masses are wrong - even when one is part of said mass; this was actually a really good brawl, complete with a glorious bouquet of ring psychology. Art-critic speak aside, this was the high point of the Rock/Mankind feud, and a great exhibition of everything these two are good at.

The match started with Mankind turning his back on the Rock, giving the challenger an opportunity he couldn't refuse. So, Rock jumped Mankind and slapped him around for the couple of minutes, occasionally kicking Mick's legs out from under him. Of course, this was to lull Rocky into a false sense of security, and while he swaggered around the ring, Mankind dropped him with a title belt shot. Rocky was up by the five count, so Mankind knocked him to the floor. The match inevitably went to the entranceway, where they whipped each other into hte entrance set. Rock's whip was obviously the stronger of the two, since the impact of Mick's back hitting the metal travelled through his body to injure his knee. Apparently. Still, the champ came back with a nice DDT through a proper wooden table, but again Rock beat the ref's count. The Rock came back with a belly-to-back suplex on the floor, but Mankind whipped my favourite Honky Tonk Man Impersonator into the ring steps. The subsequent Mr. Elbow missed its mark, so Rocky took command with an old favourite, the suplex on the mats. And another. And another ....

With Mankind recovering from the triumvirate of suplexes, Rock put his golden vocal chords to work, again replacing Michael Cole on commentary. Mankind inevitably broke it up, beating Rock around ringside, and even pulling off the old Cactus Jack elbowdrop. Back in the ring, Rock booted the ring steps back into Mankind's mush, and went back to work on the injured knee. Three nasty chairshots to the leg knocked Mick down to the mat, and a fourth made sure he wouldn't be getting up in a hurry. As he used the ropes to climb to his feet, Rock swung the chair at his head. In a neat spot, Mankind ducked the chair, which bounced off the ropes into Rock's face. Bret Hart, Ken Shamrock and Arn Anderson have all tried that in the past, and none of them made it look as good as Rocky did - but I guess that has something to do with the dynamics of Mr. Maivia's face. Anyway, Mankind followed up with the clothesline over the top rope, and a swinging neckbreaker on the mats. He went for a piledriver on the announcers' table, but we all know that's a once-in-a-lifetime move for Mick, so Rock backdropped him off the table right onto the floor.

Obviously, the Rock doesn't value Mick Foley's ability to walk, as he followed up by dropping the ring steps over the top rope to the floor - landing corner-first on Mick's knees. Even if Mick gave him the go-ahead to do the move, Rock simply shouldn't have done something so blatantly dangerous. And for once, Michael Cole's hyperbole was justified, as he wondered aloud how Mankind managed to get back to his feet. Back in the ring, a People's Elbow set Mankind up for the most violent part of the match - the Rock's Elvis impersonation. After Rock's Memphis dedication of Smackdown Hotel, Mankind got to his feet and locked on the Mandible Claw. Somehow the referee ended up taking a bump, which delayed his count and gave Rock time to recover. The Corporate Champion took advantage of the break, and came back with a low blow and a typically sharp DDT. Mankind ducked a chairshot to the head (and after the Royal Rumble, you can hardly blame him), and hit a double-arm DDT on the chair. A Socko-assisted Mandible Claw was countered with a Rock Bottom, and both men were down for an eight count. As they got to their feet, both men grabbed stray chairs, and a double chairshot knocked them both back down. The referee counted to ten, and in 21:50 we had the first WWF title match to end in a draw since the '95 Royal Rumble. Which was, er .... nice?

As I said earlier, this match was like a showcase for everything these two are good at. They both hit their trademark spots, both did their comedy routines, and Mick was atypically destroyed in every way possible. While the latter wasn't necessarily enjoyable, it's still what Mick Foley does for a living, so we can consider it a talent. The same can be said about Rock's Elvis impression, a talent which could turn up at Blackpool Pier any moment now (spot the reference, Manics fans). The match itself wasn't a masterpiece, but the last eight minutes made up for the inconsistencies of the first half, and it was plenty fun when taken as a whole. Nothing mind-blowing, but one of the better WWF title matches in 1999. Insert witty one-liner here.

***3/4

This was installment seven of the never-ending Foley/Rock feud, and the last great one to boot; the ladder match. Following on from the Austin/McMahon cage match, the debut of Paul Wight, Jim Ross' heel turn and Shane McMahon's Euro title win, this was the tail end of a really surprising weekend. If I could say something insightful instead of stating the obvious, believe me I would. But sometimes the creative juices need replacing, so bleh ....

Mankind came into this match with a serious limp, thanks to Rock's delicacy with the steps at the previous night's PPV. Of course, Rocky aimed for the knees in this match too, and his first big move was to whip Mick into the steps - legs first. After throwing a chair into the ring, Rock went right back to the limbs. Kicking Mankind's knees gave way to smashing them into the chair, which gave way to Rock fetching the ladder. He returned to the ring holding the ladder, but Mick smashed it into his face with a series of big chairshots. Sadly, Michael Cole was given another chance to scream 'Mister Elbow!' like a hyperactive toddler, but the huge crowd reaction did help drown him out. Mankind tried to capitalise on his deadly elbowdrop by climbing the ladder, but he forgot to wait for rigourmortis to set in. So the Rock nipped up, and knocked Mick off the ladder with a brutal chair to the leg. Rocky followed up with a chop block and a ladder/leg sandwich, seasoned with even more nasty chairshots.

This time Rock went to climb the ladder, but Mick inevitably pulled him off. The champ followed up with a stiff chairshot to the back, but made another premature ascent - Rock hit him with another chair to the leg, and as he fell from the ladder, Mick got his arm caught in the ropes. By this point, I'm wondering how Mick Foley left this match with any functioning limbs. Using a great segue, his trick knee played up next, and he hit Rock with a low blow. Taking the challenger to the floor, Mick battered him through the crowd, which included Bart Gunn's favourite boxer, Butterbean. He then whipped Rock into a stray segment of guard rail, and actually connected with an elbow onto the steel. Of course, the second elbow missed - giving Mick a new shoulderblade in the process. This let Rock get back in command, and he battered the champ up the ramp, working the knee all along. He followed with a suplex and two kneedrives on the steel, tempting me to call him the 'Grate One'. But I won't.

Going via some slaps, some cable-choking, and plenty of badmouthing, Rock brought Mankind back to ringside, but he took a huge whip into the steps. Mick went to follow up with a piledriver on the Cursed Spanish Announcers' Table, but that's a once-in-a-lifetime move for Mankind; instead he ate a Rock Bottom through the desk. Unfortunately, Hugo Savinovich survived. Back in the ring, Rocky went to climb the ladder, but Mick hit a low blow and a double-arm DDT on the chair. A ladder to the face blocked Mick's deadliest weapon (Mr. Socko), and a DDT put him down for the count. This time Rock made it to the top, but Mankind followed with Socko in tow - as opposed to toe in socko, I suppose. Atop the ladder, a flurry o'fists went in favour of Mankind, who locked on the Mandible Claw. But before Rocky fell to his doom, Paul Wight came steaming into the ring, where he planted Mick with a super chokeslam from the top of the ladder. Given a few seconds, Rock managed to regain consciousness and inevitably grab the gold: in 12:57, we had a new WWF champion ....

Dave Meltzer called this the first real contender for Match of the Year. As a rule, I never trust anyone whose surname sounds like a sandwich, but I can certainly see where he's coming from. This was possibly the first all-satisfying match of 1999. First, it was a big match for the WWF title, so it was something virtually everyone was familiar with. Then it had big bumps aplenty, a nice story with a hint of psychology, and it was well booked from start to finish. If nothing else, it was the best thing on Raw all year. If you didn't keep a video of this, your head should be examined. With a chainsaw.

****

Okay, I'll be honest: even though this was remarkably painless as far as Horace matches go, quality isn't my reason for including this match. It was the HEADBUTT OFF THE TOP OF THE CAGE!

That is all.

This is Doc's first solo appearance in the review, so I might as well introduce everyone. Readership, meet Dr. Wagner Jr.; the overweight luchadore with body odour strong enough to make crops fail. Dr. Wagner Jr., meet my readership; the most fantastic group of people on Earth - except for the good staff of the Aberdeen Steak House. Introductions aside, this was a meeting of legends-that-can-still-go, with the world's most prestigious Junior title at stake. Neither Wagner or Liger are what they were five years ago, but this match proved there's life in them yet.

Joining the work in progress, Wagner was belting Liger with various offensive manouevers. A vertical suplex and top rope splash rang bells, but the champ came back with a deep-fried brainbuster and a shotay selection box. Liger managed to get the Doc up onto the top turnbuckle, where he intended to hit a hurancanrana - but instead got caught in a superbomb. The crowd popped huge for the near fall, with added dramatic tension from Wagner's soap-quality overacting. Wagner continued in the lead, scoring with a Tiger driver, a tope from the ring apron, and a Michinoku driver on the entrance stage. Liger just about beat the 20-count into the ring, but Doc dropped him with a crucifix powerbomb for another two.

Inevitably, Liger came back with a load of you-know-whatays, before hitting a really painful-looking super fisherman's buster. Wagner instantly recovered and went into Ultimate Warrior mode, no-selling everything Liger threw at him. Then, in something lifted right from a comic book, Liger began no-selling right back, and won the clash of titans with yet another shotay. Then, with one gigantic super brainbuster, Wagner went down for the count. In a televised 9:55, Jushin Liger had successfully retained his title. He may have lost it three days later, but every little helps. And finally, for the trainspotters, the full match ran a healthy 27:06 ....

To make comparisons with the two New Japan junior matches in January's edition, this was much closer to the tag match than Liger vs Ohtani. The tag match was simple, exciting and fun, whereas the singles match was still fun, but laced with subtle psychological nuances. This was definitely nuance-free. The atmosphere, the no-selling segment, and the whole match was like a guide to incorporating stand-up comedy into a wrestling bout. And even though neither of them spoke a word of English, Liger and Wagner both made me laugh out loud. If you've ever wondered where the fun was in Japanese wrestling, look no further than this match.

***1/2

Although nobody else was interested enough to come to a similar conclusion, I think this match was the result of divine intervention. It originally looked like the result of the WCW bookers going on another of their far-too-frequent acid trips, but it incredibly ended up being quite palletable. While the identity of the higher power who implemented these changes varies from religion to religion, his/her work remains a marvel. First, Konnan suffered a minor knee injury coming into the match, limiting his input to a minimum. Then Lex Luger suffered a torn bicep, so the reinvigorated Scott Hall took his place, and the outlook for match quality had swung 180 degrees. The mask stipulation still hurts my tummy, but at least the wrestling was decent.

To start in high spirits, the match began with Hall vs Misterio. After the dental hygiene lesson that is the toothpick tossing segment, Hall finally locked up with Misterio. At first he overpowered him in every way, tossing him around like another toothpick, but Rey out-quicked him and built towards his bigger offensive moves. First Rey hit an armdrag and a drop toehold, followed by a dropkick, a springboard legdrop, and a springboard Thesz press. He made the mistake of trying to punch Nash, since hitting someone in the kneecap is both pointless and embarrassing. This gave Hall time to recover, and the next thing he did was catch Rey Jr. and with a fallaway slam. Nash soon tagged in and delivered his work quotient for February, hitting a big biel and a double-arm chokeslam. Knackered after two moves, he tagged Hall back in and went back into inert mode. Scott continued where Nash left off, slapping Rey about and nearly decapitating him with an impossibly stiff clothesline. But when he signalled for the Outsider's Edge, young Reymond awoke and made a quick tag to Konnan.

K-Dogg immediately put Nash to shame by delivering about three months' work in one rally, where he even mustered up an awesome dropkick. Of course, he did nothing else of note and the Outsiders simply destroyed him instead. The tide turned when Hall and Konman landed a double clothesline, and the race to the tag began. To build drama while Hall and Konnan crawled about on all fours (which is probably a good representation of how they get back from the bar every night), the camera panned to Elizabeth at ringside. And my God, did she look bad without her makeup on. Her arms looked a bit swollen too-- oh, hang on; it was Lex Luger. But they do look similar, don't they? Back with the match (the what?), both men made simultaneous tags and Nash and Misterio came in. Rey immediately floored both Outsiders with springboard dropkicks, wiped out Nash with an amazing heel kick, and hit each heel with a springboard dropkick from the other. Going like a machine, Rey hit Hall with a Bronco Buster and levelled Nash with a springboard moonsault, but Eliza-- sorry, Luger attacked Konnan on the floor. While this probably benefitted Rey in real terms, this was a crippling effect within the bout's storyline. As soon as Konnan went down, the referee got distracted by Luger, Liz, or a passing Harry Krishna, allowing Hall to murdalize Rey with an Outsider's Edge. Rolling Nash on top of Mighty Mouse, the pinfall came in 10:58. And that was that; goodbye mask, hello ugly ....

Despite the rancid result, this was a really well constructed match. The two best workers were given most time and made the best of it, while Nash, Konnan and Luger all played bit parts. Rey looked phenomenal throughout the match, and Hall once again proved The Perfect Foil For The Smaller Man. The crowd was nicely sucked in, and were really enjoying things by the time the match was over. All things considered, this was the high point of Superbrawl IX, tied with the sight of Hulk Hogan losing large amounts of blood. Best American wrestling match of the month.

***3/4

Yoshinari Ogawa vs Masahito Kakihara:
AJPW, aired February 7th (All Japan TV, AJPW Junior heavyweight title match) ****
Rob Van Dam vs Jerry Lynn:
ECW, taped February 12th (Crossing the Line Again, ECW TV title match) *** Owen Hart + Jeff Jarrett vs Mark Henry + D'lo Brown:
WWF, took place February 14th (Valentine's Day Massacre, WWF World tag title match) ***
Blitzkrieg, Juventud Guerrera + Psicosis vs Hector Garza, Super Calo + Silver King:
WCW, took place February 15th (Nitro) ***1/2
Booker T. vs Disco Inferno:
WCW, took place February 21st (Superbrawl IX) ***1/2
Scott Steiner vs Diamond Dallas Page:
WCW, took place February 21st (Superbrawl IX) ***1/2

And that's the end of that. Again, credit to those that survived the whole article, and credit to Mr. JF for starting the rumour that I might be posing for Penthouse in the near future. At least it isn't Horse & Hound.

Finally, I urge all readers to run like a crystal-clear mountain stream, and pay a visit to the Best of the Best poll. Once you're there, you'll know what it's about.

Until next time, chilblanes.

Elliot Sparks
Hell in a Cell