TheRaySays

Thanks for the kind feedback, y2gudge. Yeah, a show can only be SO good with Heidenreich/Big Windham and Wrenn/Lil' Windham at the top of the card. I have to say Fright Night's building to be a lot more interesting a show.

I suppose I should justify why Sylvian is in here, but I figured Lazz is weird and gay, Sylvian is French and gay, it's a short step for Lazz to get more French and Sylvian more weird.

Okay, here we go...

October 19, 2003

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

NWA Wildside TV #16

NWA Wildside TV is taped LIVE at The NWA Arena in Cornelia, Georgia.

“We’re just one week away from a night of the mysterious and the macabre… a night where shocks, chills, and thrills strike like lightning… a night where anything can happen… Fright Night… and tonight, we set the tone for that fateful confrontation because THIS is NWA Wiiiildside!”

Thank goodness for the new Motley Crue digital remasters, because "Wildside" by arguably the greatest hair band ever is our official theme.

1. Scott Cage w/o Mike Pittman (f) vs. Gabriel w/o Azrael :

After the opening credits, Dan “the Dragon” Wilson stands by in the ring for introductions.

“By order of Wildside CEO Barry Windham, both Mike Pittman and Azrael have been BANNED from ringside for the following contest, which is scheduled for one fall and a ten minute time limit.

Introducing FIRST… one half of Rrrrage… from Fort Lauderdale, Florida… weighing in at 206 pounds… Scott Caaaage!”

Scott Cage races to the ring in yellow trunks and kneepads with red flame edging, black boots, and black hand and wrist tape. His dark hair is buzzed short, his beard neatly trimmed. He slingshots himself into the ring and bounces a bit, nervously fidgeting with his wrist tape.

“His opponent hails from The Middle of Nowhere… weighing 210 pounds… one half of The Lost Boyz… Gabrrrriel!”

Gabriel sulks down the ramp and meanders around the ring. His hair is stringy, wet, and dyed blood red. He wears black pants and boots, elbow pads, and a Danzig goatskull t-shirt. He climbs into the ring and glares menacingly at his opponent.

“The Dragon” joins broadcast colleague Steven Prazak at the announce position, and they immediately discuss the ban of the associated tag partners at ringside for this contest following last week’s debacle. Apparently Wildside owner Bill Behrens has put pressure on CEO Barry Windham to get his house in order and take charge of certain situations.

They also discuss the months-long absence of Wildside Television Champion Rainman and whether or not he’ll be stripped of the title for failure to defend it regularly. Word is that Jeff G. Bailey has contacted the fugitive members of his NWA Elite, including Rainman and John Phoenix and given them an ultimatum.

Meanwhile, in the ring, we’re going through some old, tired indy cruiserweight sequences, including the hammerlock-snap mare-leg sweep routine and the simultaneous dropkicks spot that culminates in an eerily quiet indy respect pause. Yawn.

The announce team brings the focus back on the action more because they’ve covered their bases than because anything compelling is going on. Cage lands on his feet after a reversed hip toss and hits a high standing dropkick to knock Gabriel down. Cage hooks up a rear waistlock and goes for a German suplex, but Gabriel blocks it with his leg and drops prone for a drop toe hold that gives Cage a face full of canvas. He runs to the far ropes and comes off with a wicked stiff basement dropkick to the mush.

Gabriel pulls Cage up by the arm and whips him into the corner, but Referee Chris Emerson is standing in the way like a deer caught in headlights. Cage deftly rolls over his back to land on his feet, but Gabriel is already charging in for a leg lariat that takes Emerson out flush. Cage pulls himself up to the top rope and leaps off for a double axe handle to capitalize, but Gabriel catches him in mid-air and hits a smooth flatliner. That was kinda nice. He rolls Cage over and covers, but Emerson is still out cold.

Gabriel kicks at Emerson, trying to rouse him, but is met with little success. Our announce team takes this moment to send us to some…

-Mid-Match Commercials-

When we come back, it’s resthold fest, and based on the crowd’s slack posture, it’s probably been going on for even longer than the break actually lasted. In any event, it’s Cage on his belly on the mat, and Gabriel straddling him with a modified camel clutch. Modified in what way, you ask? Fuck if I know. Prazak just says it’s “modified,” and we have no choice but to trust him.

Referee Chris Emerson is back in the swing of things, groggily asking Cage if he surrenders. Much to everyone’s dismay, he doesn’t. Cage eventually, through no help from the fans nor his absent partner, shakes and rallies back to his feet, showing that you really don’t need all that clapping and stomping after all. He gets some momentum going and barrels backward into the turnbuckles, smushing Gabriel. He steps out of the corner and hits a pretty cool no look dropkick of sorts, kind of like a double mule kick, I guess.

Cage rolls through the move and to his feet. Gabriel staggers out of the corner to eat a big spinning heel kick that nearly decapitates him. Cage rolls back into a cover, hooking a leg for 1… 2… Gabriel kicks out.

Cage stomps him a bit, then drags him by wrist and ankle to the corner. He pulls himself up onto the middle rope, seated on the top and adjusts his kneepad. He sets himself and leaps for a photo op, driving his knee into Gabriel’s forehead and rolling through like the “Nature Boy” of old. Cage takes a lateral press for 1… 2… 2.9999! Gabriel barely hooks the bottom rope with his toe, but it’s enough to break the pinfall.

Scott Cage goes back to the corner and fiddles with his kneepad again, this time sliding it all the way down over his boot to expose his bony knee cap. That can only mean one thing… Sure enough, Gabriel scrambles out of the way, and Cage whiffs. He still rolls through like a trooper, however, and comes up clutching his padless knee.

Gabriel uses the ropes to pull himself up, bounces off them, and sprints in for a tilt-a-whirl headscissors takeover. As Cage goes sprawling, Gabriel is already on the move and slides out to the apron. He pulls back on the top and slingshots himself into a senton. He rolls over and hooks both legs deep for 1… 2… 2.9999! Cage shoots his shoulder up.

Gabriel pulls Cage up by the neck and hefts him up onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry position. It looks like Gabriel is going to take Cage from The Cradle to the Grave into a cradle sitout powerbomb, but Scott Cage drops out the back and hooks up a rear waistlock to just fold Gabriel up with a snap German suplex. Ouch.

Cage heads to the turnbuckles as his opponent writhes on the mat clutching his neck. Scott Cage sets himself and leaps, nailing The Frog Splash to crush The Lost Boy! 1… 2… 3. Scott Cage gets his hand raised by Referee Chris Emerson, but Gabriel has recovered enough to blitz him from behind with a forearm shot to the back of the head. He rolls Cage over and straddles him, just firing off straight rights and lefts to the head as Cage tries to cover up.

Emerson’s trying to pull Gabriel off, and the bell is ringing incessantly, but Gabriel just shoves the ref aside and ignores it all. He picks up Cage and throws him up onto his shoulders, back into the fireman’s carry. He runs to the ropes and just dumps Cage to the concrete at the feet of the incoming officials. Gabriel rolls out before he can be chastised and sulks to the back while EMTs check on Scott Cage.

WINNER: Scott Cage, cleanly with The Frog Splash.

Nothing worth seeing here. I’ll give it a ½ star rating because I’m generous. (O:48. C:23. M:73. Scott Cage earned 6 points of overness from the big solo win. Gabriel gained 3 points of overness from his ruthlessness.)

-Commercials-

2. Be Careful What You Wish For…:

We return, not to the ring, but to the backstage area, where Jeff G. Bailey is busy yakking on his cell phone, clearly agitated. “I don’t care WHAT traffic’s like, just get down here as soon as superhumanly possible. Look, if you don’t make it here before the end of TV tapings… well, look… I know, I know, but how am I supposed to deal with that if you aren’t HERE?! I’m not a gangsta! I’m a lawyer, and a damn good one, so get your ass down here and let me litigate this situation. Hello? Hello? Damn!”

Kendall Windham strides into frame with a fistful of papers. He spits a stream of tobacky on the floor and snarls at Bailey.

“What?” Bailey asks.

“Yeah, that’s mah damn question. What.” Cheap, especially given Kendall’s shaven head redneck look. Sigh. “What do ya call this?” He almost knocks Jeff G. over, slapping him on the chest with the papers.

Bailey gingerly takes the offered documents and uncrumples them. “Looks like your last title opportunity, Kendall. Congratulations… and good luck.”

“That’s not wha I’m talkin’ ‘bout ya stoopid horse’s ass! Read them stippylations!”

Bailey chuckles despite his better interests, then quickly checks himself. Kendall glares in all seriousness, his cheek puffed with a wad of chaw. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a cage match next week, Sport, courtesy of that clown shoe Bill Behrens. You should go thank him. Scottie Wrenn won’t be able to run away from you.”

Kendall’s lip curls and a bit of brown spittle accumulates on his lip before he spits it aside. Bailey follows the motion with his eyes and the two stand somewhat eye-to-eye, Kendall with a decided height advantage. “You mockin’ me, Boy? Sure, Wrenn ain’t gonna run ‘n hide, but that means nobody can get in there either. What if he brings a… a sickle or somethin’? What if he pulls a pair of brass knuckles… or a… a bag of thumbtacks out his pants? He’s a self-proclaimed psychopath, J.G.”

“If he brings a knife, you bring a gun. It’s Untouchables 101, Kendall.”

“A gun?” Kendall Windham’s brow furrows in confusion, but there’s the briefest glimmer in his eye that’s frightening in its simplicity.

“Well, no, not literally. Trust me, I would’ve a long time ago if I could’ve. No, what I mean to say is you trump him. Are you telling me that with all of your years of experience, battling from coast to coast and sea to shining sea, that this little sack of Carolina crap has you beat in the brutality game? Do you really think you can’t upstage him at Fright Night? If so, you should just stay home with a bottle of Jack and give him the no-show victory. Really, what’s one more loss at this stage in your career?”

Windham seems to consider it for a moment, then shakes his head. “I’d rather die than lose to that sumbitch one more time.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Kendall.”

(Interview: 49. Jeff G. Bailey gained 2 points of overness from being so darn smart. Still, Kendall’s no Patrick Stewart, and his rampant stupidity and slipshod imitation of a more charismatic talent was pretty painful to watch. Eh.)

3. Layin’ Down the Law:

Big brother Barry Windham saunters into frame, thumbs hooked into his belt loops, cowboy hat perched atop his thinning blonde mane. “Don’t sweat it, lil’ bro,” he says.

Kendall Windham spits and snarls. “What tha hell good is it if’n yer CEO an’ y’all ain’t got no damn stroke at all. We’re getting’ screwed, Barry, and I ain’t one ta just sit here an’ take it.”

Jeff G. Bailey can’t help himself. “Perhaps you should roll over onto your side then, to take the strain off your back.” This crude remark actually draws an audible guffaw from the crowd watching on the big screen in the arena.

Kendall grabs Bailey by the lapels of his cheap suit and jerks him up off his feet. “Ah’ve had about enough of yer lip, Boy!”

Barry talks him down. “Easy… Easy… Bailey’s a bastard, but he’s OUR bastard, and he can still help right this overturned apple cart, can’t ya J.G.?”

Kendall sets Bailey back on his feet and storms off, disgusted. Bailey gulps before sputtering “Uh… Y-yeah. Sure. Of course, B-Dubbya. I always have a plan.”

“Good, ‘cause any member of yer damn worthless NWA Elite who ain’t here tonight fer the Fright Night strategery session is gonna find his ass FIRED, I don’t care who he is. That bastich Bill Behrens is breathin’ down mah damn neck, and I’m sick of it. He’s puttin’ my baby bro in a damn cage like some animal, and he’s okayed some crazy contraption Lazarus cooked up for his grudge match against Onyx, and if that don’t beat all, he’s puttin’ you in the ring.”

“Well, now that’s not quite gonna happen. Y’see, Slim J has assured me that he won’t need my help. I’ve got a nice velour jogging suit picked out, but I’m only going to get the tag to deliver the coup de grace. It should be no problemo, Amigo.”

“You better hope yer right, J.G. For ALL our sakes.”

Bailey’s cell phone rings, and he takes the call, with the CEO watching him intently. “Excellent! Okay, get changed into your gear and I’ll see you out there. What? No, we’re going to make it very clear that The NWA Elite are as strong as we’ve ever been. Of course I’ve got someone in mind. Don’t sweat it. You’re going to destroy him, and it’ll be all sex and candy for The Elite at Fright Night.”

Bailey starts walking away, leaving Windham with the cameraman. “You like Asian girls? Of course you like Asian girls. Who doesn’t like Asian girls. I know this J-Pop wannabe who’s just dying to get a record contract here in the States, and I’ve been talking to a guy for Slim J… J… Slim J… Yeah, THAT guy. Why? Don’t be like that, man. Look, never mind him. I’ll give her a call and set something up for after the show next week, but first things first, okay? Just park the car and get ready. I’ll see you in the ring!” Bailey hangs up and marches out of frame with a newfound spring in his step. “We… are… in… business…”

(Manager Has A Plan: 61. Barry Windham and Jeff G. Bailey each gained 2 points of overness from their conniving.)

-Commercials-

When we return, Jeff G. Bailey’s on his way to the ring with a suited Slim J in tow. Slim holds the ropes for Bailey, who calls for the house mic.

“Hello, lemmings. Feast your eyes on only the most recent addition to what has become an unholy trinity here in Wildside, my hand-picked… custom made… professionally guided… NWA Elite. Slim here is poised to rise to the next level in both THIS business and the recording industry, and success in one will breed success in the other, I guaran-damn-tee it.”

Bailey pats a smiling Slim J on the back.

“That’s why I’ve gone ahead and signed that stupid contract to face that goofy self-promoting moron Jeremy V… in a HANDICAP match next week at Fright Night with The REAL Slim J at my back. But FIRST… Jeremy… you have to prove to me that you really deserve it… that you really WANT it… because I just don’t believe your bluster about demons and torment and all that mopey claptrap. Tonight, I’m going to make sure you don’t even MAKE it to Fright Night, because I’ve got someone to take the wind outta your damn sails…”

4. John Phoenix w/Jeff G. Bailey & Slim J vs. Jeremy V (f):

“From Atlanta, Georgia… weighing 230 pounds… representing the NWA Elite… John Phoenix!”

Phoenix comes through the curtain, dressed in a black t-shirt, white cargo pants, and old school black-and-white two-tone boots. His black hair sits in a high flattop, his chin adorned with some scruff. He slingshots himself into the ring and paces about. Slim J extends a hand to his stablemate, but Phoenix just blows him off. Bailey tries a bit of sucking up, but Phoenix holds up a hand and waves him off. The announce team speculates that all is obviously not as well in The NWA Elite as Bailey’d like us to believe.

“Jeremy” by Pearl Jam begins to play, and Jeremy V races down the aisle to slide into the ring without proper introduction. We get an opening bell, and this makeshift match is rendered official. Jeremy scrambles up to his feet and charges, only to eat a stiff savate kick from an unflinching John Phoenix. Phoenix shakes his head and points down at Jeremy, who’s on the mat holding his jaw in pain. Bailey and Slim encourage him to continue the assault from down at ringside.

Phoenix picks Jeremy up and whips him hard into the turnbuckles. He charges in, but Jeremy brings up his boot. Phoenix puts on the brakes in time to avoid it and catches the kick. He pulls Jeremy V a few short hops out of the corner on one leg, then hits a step-over enzuiguiri, shades of Rob Van Dam, that puts Jeremy back in the corner with a thud.

John snags a front facelock and lifts Jeremy up onto the top. He climbs up after and goes back to the facelock, getting a grip on the waistband of Jeremy’s red and black tights. He can’t get Jeremy over for the superplex, however, as Jeremy hooks the ropes and hits some fists to the ribs. Eventually, he sets himself and shoves John Phoenix off the top to crash into Referee Andrew Thomas. Jeff G. Bailey howls from ringside, cursing his former lackey referee’s misfortune.

Jeremy sets himself, facing the crowd, and gives the double “V” salute. He leaps for his Moonsault, but John Phoenix is up and catches him on his shoulder upside-down. He spins Jeremy for a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker and dumps him on the canvas with an air of arrogance.

Phoenix kicks at Jeremy haphazardly, then paces with his hands on his hips, clearly agitated. He pulls Andrew Thomas back to his feet in the corner and shakes him roughly, trying to bring him back around. Thomas pushes Phoenix away and stumbles away to brush himself off, but John responds with an extended middle finger and a sneer. John turns to retrieve his opponent… who is already on the move for a running dropkick.

John Phoenix gets back to one knee, but Jeremy V is shaking with rage. Jeremy sprints in and hits a shining wizard that lays Phoenix out. He goes to the top for another double “V” salute, but doesn’t turn his back on his foe this time. Instead, he tucks and rolls for The Flying V, his 450 splash! Steven Prazak reminds us that both John Phoenix AND Slim J use that move to finish their opponents off. He hooks the leg for 1… 2… Phoenix kicks out strong.

Jeremy pulls him up and hooks both arms in a double chickenwing. Bailey is screaming from ringside, but it does nothing to stop Jeremy V from hitting The VDT, his double underhook side slam. He holds Phoenix for 1… 2… 2.9999! John Phoenix rolled his shoulder, but just barely.

Jeremy pulls John Phoenix up and lifts him into a fireman’s carry position, looking for a Death Valley driver. John hooks him and drops down, however, into a crucifix roll-up for 1… 2… 3-NO! Jeremy V springs free, but that was a close near fall.

John hits a boot to the gut to double Jeremy over before he can get back on offense. He pulls Jeremy into a standing headscissors and hooks him around the waist. He lifts Jeremy onto his shoulders, but Jeremy starts unloading right hands to the head to prevent the completion of the move. Jeremy drops back to his feet and hefts Phoenix back into the fireman’s carry. Death Valley driver time… but no, Jeff G. Bailey reaches into the ring and hooks Jeremy’s foot, tripping him and sending both men crashing to the mat.

Referee Andrew Thomas immediately stomps over and signals to eject Bailey from ringside. Bailey, of course, protests, but the distraction has another, more sinister purpose. Slim J has made his way around to the other side, and slides into the ring behind Thomas. He measures Jeremy V for a superkick… stutter steps in… but Jeremy dodges, and John Phoenix eats it flush.

Slim stands shock still, hands to his mouth like Macaulay Culkin from “Home Alone.” Jeremy V siezes him by the scruff of his neck and the belt of his dress slacks, and runs him past the referee to dump him over the top rope right onto Jeff G. Bailey.

Jeremy climbs up to the top and fiddles with his red wrist tape before striking what’s intended to be a dramatic third double “V” salute as he turns to face the crowd. No one so much as coughs. Oh well. He leaps into The Moonsault and scores! 1… 2… 3. Jeff G. Bailey’s plan has officially backfired.

Slim J has helped Bailey back to his feet, and looks unsure what to do. Bailey angrily shouts for him to fetch John Phoenix. He tentatively obeys, reaching in to pull Phoenix out by the boot, eyeing Jeremy V the entire time. Jeremy V points at Bailey and Slim, mouthing taunts as Phoenix stumbles around ringside, trying to figure out what the hell went wrong.

He heads over to the announce position, where Steven Prazak sits alone while Dan “the Dragon” Wilson is in the ring to announce Jeremy as the winner. John Phoenix demands an explanation and gets one from Prazak, in the form of “Jeremy V had you beat, and your supposed GENIUS of an advisor and his dumb-ass sidekick cost you the damn match!”

John Phoenix slams his hands on the table in frustration, then reaches over and grabs Wilson’s chair. He folds it up and glares at Jeremy V in the ring. Jeremy doesn’t back down, instead motioning for John to “Bring it on.” John steps forward, then turns and WAFFLES Slim J with the chair. Jeff G. Bailey is aghast as his charge throws the chair down on the concrete with a clatter and pushes past him to storm out of the arena, leaving Jeremy V victorious in the ring, and Slim J unconscious in his arms.

WINNER: Jeremy V, with The Moonsault, after botched interference from Slim J.

This one gets * rating and likes it. (O:51. C:27. M:76. John Phoenix debuted his new Rebel gimmick and got a positive response. He and Jeremy V each earned 6 points of overness for this decent, if sadly quiet, match.)

-Commercials-

5. Pimping Rides:

We come back to a shaky handheld camera, following Alicia Webb as she click-clacks her way down a corridor in black boots, a short skirt, and a long sleeved, billowy black blouse. She carries a microphone in hand, and is clearly in hot pursuit of some sort of scoop. Emphasis on the “hot.” The crowd, watching on the big screen, gives her the usual whistles and catcalls of approval.

She shoves through an access door, and we find ourselves looking upon the parking lot. There sits a cherry red Honda Civic with black kanji on the hood. The license plate reads “JER-LO1,” making it clear that this is the vehicle of Jeremy Lopez. It’s also the victim of a mauling with a wire grill brush wielded by “The Royal Stud” Adam Windsor. The crowd lets out a collective gasp, and then some cheering.

Alicia runs up, breathing heavy. “Uh… Huh… Wha-wha-what are you doing out here?!”

Adam reaches down next to the car and comes up with a can of turpentine. He spills some on the hood, then turns and smiles. His long blonde hair is parted by a heavy white bandage taped to his forehead, evidently over the chopstick hole Lopez made there last week. “Well hello, my dear. I do think I’ve gotten the hang of this menial labor nonsense I’ve found myself coerced into. A deal’s a deal, as they say, and… well… I suppose my punishment last week taught me to look at things in a new light. This car was just absolutely COVERED in fingerprints. I don’t know when it was last washed, but a little elbow grease is getting them out just fine.”

“When Jeremy Lopez finds out about this… He’s… Oh wow…”

“Well, I hope he’ll be appreciative. While he’s been relaxing in the hot tub in the gym next door, I’ve been hard at work out here. In FACT, I hope he’ll be appreciative enough to grant me a small request. I’ve taken the liberty of tucking a little document under the windshield wiper here… a little CONTRACT… for next week at the right cleverly named Fright Night. A little contract for a Submission Match…” The crowd cheers the booking.

“I think after he sees this, he’ll sign any contract you offer him, Adam.”

“Good, because I don’t want to have to go to his bloody home to make my point clear. I’m a man of honor, my dear, and I’ll sleep in the bed I’ve made, but I’m tired of cleaning his clothes and his car, I want to clean his bloody clock. I’m sorry to be so crude… I just…”

“Don’t worry about it. Say what’s on your mind.”

Adam stands back from his handiwork a moment. He wipes his brow from the effort, then fixes his bandage. “I guess this little piece of plastic rubbish suits a superficial specimen like Lopez. Perhaps I should show you my Rolls Royce sometime. Now THAT’S a proper vehicle. Remind me to take you for a spin in it, my dear, if I could so impose.”

“I’d be honored, but I’m more than a little hurt that I’d have to remind you…”

Adam blushes. “How could I forget? Really, what a bloody foolish thing to say. I’m sorry. Consider it a deal then. I know my work here is done. How about you?”

Alicia looks around, a bit uncharacteristically girlish. “I guess I’m through here. Uh… for NWA Wildside, this is Alicia Webb… *giggle* on location outside… wishing you all a good night.” The crowd lets out a juvenile “Ooooh…” at the duo’s impromptu date.

Adam gets his goofy blonde mug right in the camera. “Good night ladies and gents… and Jeremy. A whole week of good nights to you, sir, because in one week’s time, it won’t be a very good night for you. Not a good night AT ALL.”

(Interview: 90! Adam Windsor debuted his new Suave gimmick and got a positive response. He and Alicia Webb each gained a point of overness from this segment.)

6. Smokey Carmichaels vs. Jimmy Rave (f):

We cut inside the NWA Arena where Dan “the Dragon” Wilson is all set for introductions. Smokey Carmichaels comes out unbidden in his black cargo pants and combat boots. He holds his hand out aggressively for the microphone. Wilson sighs then reluctantly forks it over.

“Everyone knows The Smoke. I don’t need no damn demeaning introductions… Jimmy Rave! You think you can punk out ol’ Smokey?! You think you can call me out on television? You say this thing ain’t about race, but that just shows how deep it runs, Son, that you don’t even notice it anymore. You don’t question why you get the title opportunities… why you get the main events… why you get the interview time with that cracker-ass ho whiles I gots to come out here and take it into my own damn hands to speak my peace.

Well, I’m gonna give you the damn answer, and I’m gonna tattoo it on your pasty-ass body in BLACK… and BLUE. I want you to think of me… I want you to think of MY struggle… every time you look at yourself in the mirror. I want you to see just how different we are… outside AND inside… and see what a damn shame that is. What a damn shame…”

Carmichaels dumps the microphone and steps back, forcing Wilson to bend down and retrieve it.

”His OPPONENT… from The Underground… weighing in at 210 pounds… The Original XTC… Jimmy Raaaave!”

Rave steps through the curtain and slips out of his sleeveless black Jimmy Rave t-shirt, fishing for a Jeff Hardy pop, but just getting mild squealing from the ring rats. It’s a start.

He wipes his hands on his baggy silver pants and steels himself, then sprints down the aisle and slides into the ring. Smokey meets him with stomps and knees, eventually holding one boot and kicking at his leg to keep the speedster on the mat. Rave swings wildly, but Smokey stays out of reach and continues to work the leg. He kneels on the side of the leg and twists at the knee, then pops up to drop a hard elbow on it and pull it back some more.

Between howls of pain, Jimmy reaches forward and hooks Smokey under the chin, trying to pry him loose. Eventually, Carmichaels is forced to release the hold and deal with the rear chinlock he’s found himself in. Smokey shifts to the side of Rave, who turns it into a side headlock.

Smokey tries shoving Rave off, but he cranks up the headlock and stays on tenaciously. Smokey tries a few forearms to the back, softening Rave up, but failing to free himself. He hooks Rave around the waist and tries to lift him for a back suplex, but can’t get him over. Rave falls back forward and turns to snap mare Smokey over and keep hold of the headlock.

Smokey fights back to his feet and manages to battle his way around the ring and to the ropes. Referee Speedy Nelson enforces the break, which Rave gives clean. Smokey stands, hands on hips, ordering Nelson to move Rave back. Rave obliges, in fact racing to the far side to bounce off the ropes and hit a running dropkick that knocks Smokey ass over elbows over the top rope and to the floor below.

Rave looks down at his foe, then pulls back on the top rope to slingshot himself into a flying cross body. Both men fall to the concrete in a jumble. Referee Speedy Nelson begins his count, getting to only six or so before Rave rolls Smokey back in and follows to cover for 1… 2… Smokey has recovered enough to kick out.

Jimmy pulls Smokey up in a bear hug and tucks his head under his arm. He lifts, presumably to set up The Northern Lights Bomb, but Smokey pushes off and flips to land on his feet. Rave turns to take a step-up enzuiguiri.

Both men lie still for a few seconds, until Smokey begins crawling and shuffling towards the corner. He pulls himself up and climbs to the top. He sets himself, then pulls off The Ropewalk Elbow Drop! Rave is laid out for the pin… 1… 2… He gets his foot on the bottom rope.

Smokey goes nuts, furious that Rave kicked out. He pulls Jimmy up by the arm and tries to send him to the ropes with an Irish whip, but Jimmy reverses. Smokey comes off with a tilt-a-whirl headscissors. He keeps the hold on the landing, and turns to pin Rave’s shoulders with his knees for 1… 2… 3-NO! Rave gets his shoulder up.

Smokey pulls him up from the mat in a front facelock. He gets a grip on the waistband of Jimmy’s silver pants and lifts him into a front suplex position to drape him across the top rope. He takes a step back and runs in for a spinning heel kick, but Rave pulls down on the top rope and ducks, managing to crotch his opponent. Oh no, here we go again…

Jimmy climbs back into the ring and kicks at the top rope, adding injury to injury. He pulls Smokey all the way back in and runs him by the scruff of the neck to the corner. He slams Smokey’s head into the top turnbuckle, then takes a step back.

Rave signals for The Gravity Killer, his run-the-ropes ultrafast tornado DDT, but suddenly a strangely attired man has hopped the rail and climbed up onto the apron. He stands in the corner in bright African robes, a title belt strapped around his waist with an outline of Africa in red, yellow, and green stripes. The man gestures towards his crotch, complaining to Referee Speedy Nelson about the unintentional low blow, perhaps.

Steven Prazak can hardly believe his eyes. “Is that… That’s Rainman! What the hell?!”

“That doesn’t look like the Wildside Television Title he’s wearing…” adds Wilson.

Regardless, the distraction gives Smokey the opportunity to hit a low blow of his own, an uppernut from one knee behind Rave, unseen by Speedy. Rainman drops off the apron as Smokey pulls Rave back in a rear waistlock and folds him up with a high angle back suplex. Jimmy sells it hardcore, neck and feet on the canvas at the same time.

Smokey draws a thumb across his throat and nods down at Rainman. He climbs to the top turnbuckle and leaps off for the Top Rope Leg Drop, landing right across the neck of Jimmy Rave. He hooks both pants legs and rolls back, mouthing “Kick out NOW, Mothafucka,” as he gets the 1… 2… 3.

Smokey gets his hand raised, but quickly pulls it away from Speedy. He marches back to the corner as Rainman climbs into the ring. Rainman picks Rave up and hits a backbreaker across his knee, holding Rave there while Smoke sets himself. Smokey leaps off and hits another Top Rope Leg Drop, flipping Rave over to leave him lying prone on the mat.

Rainman raises Smokey’s arm and the two men hug, leaving Steve Prazak to question “Is Rainman in the NWA Elite or out?! What the hell has happened to our Television Title?! What the hell has happened to the gangsta we knew as Rainman?! We’re out of time and out of answers! See us next week LIVE for Fright Night if you can. Either way, we’ll be here to run down the card and give you an idea what to expect on that most unexpected of nights. Good night!”

WINNER: Smokey Carmichaels by pinfall after The Top Rope Leg Drop after a distraction from the returning Rainman.

I'm going to give this a ** rating because i'm in a generous mood. (O:65. C:51. M:79. Rainman debuted his new Angry Minority gimmick. It got a positive response, earning him 3 points of overness.)

Overall Rating: 61 % (+1 %)

TV Rating: 0.39

Strongest Segment: Alicia Webb gets all moist over Adam Windsor pimping Jer-Lo’s ride. (90%!)

Weakest Segment: The opening match. Some guys are in tag teams for a reason. (48%)

Attendance: 157 @ $20 each (-2)

I promote Jeremy V from Opener to Lower Midcarder as per the advice of my Writing Staff.

Feud Heat:

Jimmy Rave vs. Smokey Carmichaels: 60 +1 = 61

The Lost Boyz vs. Rage: 23 +10 = 33

Feedback, criticism, ideas, and verbal attacks are all welcome and encouraged. Thanks for reading, and we’ll see ya soon!

Have fun,

TheRay

I'm tremendously behind on the other stuff, but that Tough Enough was kick ass.

I vote to cut "Ass-Kiss" Lacour. I'd normally go with the disrespectful Mack, but that stuff makes for good reading.

More feedback to come as I get caught up.

Thanks, Azrael! I'd love to put the tag straps on The Lost Boyz, especially with their gimmick getting over better heel right now, but they're currently at the opposite end of the overness spectrum from The West Texas Rednecks. Not due to my overpushing The Rednecks, I assure you, but more due to where the respective folks started in this scenario. Still, Azrael and Gabriel are moving on up, slowly but surely.

Funny you should mention Rainman. Sure enough, he hasn't been seen since Wildside TV #3, all the way back on July 20, 2003, although CEO Barry Windham did mention his absence once (to "blacktivist" Smokey Carmichaels) and threaten to strip him of the Television Title. Here we are, almost 3 months later and still no sign of him. Part of it is due to his Gangsta gimmick tanking, part is due to a slow restructuring of The NWA Elite. Rest assured, both he and John Phoenix are due back real soon. Really. Like... in two shows or so if my booking plans hold up.

As for Jason Cross, he's busy jobbing in TNA, and this is old EWR 3.0, so no talent sharing. I half expect that as they yo-yo between National and Global, he'll get the cut and I can pick him up for a big return. On THAT note...

October 12, 2003

NWATNA has fallen BACK to National once again… sigh. They release Cassidy O’Reilly, David Young, Jeremy Borash, Danny Davis, and Johnny Rodz.

I quickly snag David Young as a Midcard heel. I release jobber extraordinaire Todd Sexton to make room for him on the thirty-man roster.

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

NWA Wildside TV #15

NWA Wildside TV is taped LIVE at The NWA Arena in Cornelia, Georgia.

“I’m not going to get set on fire… We don’t play demolition derby with limousines… We’re not going to distract you with smoke and mirrors. We leave the camera tricks to the proverbial Big Top. But, if you’re looking for the best in-ring action… you’ve found the main attraction… THIS is NWA Wiiiildside!”

Thank goodness for the new Motley Crue digital remasters, because "Wildside" by arguably the greatest hair band ever is our official theme.

1. Jeremy Spoke on Camera Today:

We cut from our opening credits to the ring, where Alicia Webb stands, stunning as ever in a crepe-style champagne minidress and matching strappy heels. She smiles into the camera and gives us her best, exuberant welcome.

“Ladies and gentlemen… I give to you… The Madman from Myrtle Beach… Jeeeeeeremy V!”

We’re “treated” to the opening strains from “Jeremy” by Pearl Jam as Jeremy V comes down the ramp in street clothes. He sports a red and white checkered flannel shirt, open over a black tee. Torn blue jeans and laceless work boots round out his grunge attire. So rebellious, yet so manufactured… Jeremy’s long blonde hair hangs over his face, and he doesn’t bother to brush it aside. In fact, he doesn’t look up at all as he makes his way to the ring, blindly slapping hands with fans en route.

Once in the ring, he gives the double V salute before he takes the microphone from Alicia, again not looking up.

“Thanks, Alicia. I’m going to make this short and sweet. I warned Slim J. Hell, I warned everyone… about the darkness I try to keep in check… about the pain I’ve got bottled up inside. Well, Slim… you’ve made that job just a little bit harder. You’ve gone and riled up my inner demons… and they’re threatening to spill out… to make me do things I’ll regret, and I don’t think I can hold them back much longer.

Sooo… Let’s make the most of this, shall we? Two weeks. Fright Night. Seems like an appropriate time to cut the ol’ demons loose, don’t it? And if I’m going to let it all go, let’s really put it out there… I don’t just want YOU in the ring that night, Slim. No, I want you AND the man who’s seen fit to bring you back into the Wildside fold… Jeff G. Bailey!”

The fans cheer the prospect of Bailey getting his ass kicked in the ring.

“Because if I’m going to risk losing everything I’ve worked so hard to get… if I’m going to risk losing my very mind, my body, and my soul at Fright Night… then I might as well pit my demons against the single… greatest… embodiment of evil Wildside has EVER known… the devil himself, Jeff G. Bailey. But I’m sure you’ve already heard this song. You’ve sold your soul, they say. I’m just surprised it took you so long, Slim… and that you let it go so cheap. Me… I got my money’s worth. Believe me… handicap match or no… I’ve got more’n enough pain to go around.”

(Interview: 80. Alicia Webb gained 2 points of overness from her taste in shoes.)

2. Catfight! Catfiiiight!:

“Physical” by Olivia Newton-John begins to play, and out skips the lovely Desire. She takes her time getting in the ring, swinging one leg in languidly, then bending low in her white halter top and micro shorts, watching Jeremy V ogle her guiltily. She straightens up and walks over to him, amused by his unwillingness to make eye contact. She beckons for the microphone, and he quickly hands it over before climbing out and heading to the back, head hung presumably in shame. Desire circles Alicia Webb, looking her up and down.

“Well… well… WELL. Look who’s here… the investigative journalist. Yeah, you’re a regular Geraldo Rivera, aren’t you, getting the scoop on the return of Kid Tool. Oh look, you even have Geraldo's cute little moustache.”

A solitary giggle is about all that escapes Desire’s pursed lips before Alicia tackles her and starts choking the very bitch out of her. The buffer Desire quickly turns the tables, however, and rolls Alicia on her back to get slapped silly. Finally, Alicia covers up, howling in anger and frustration. Desire climbs off of her and retrieves the microphone.

“You wanna get physical with ME?! I’ll show you physical, you… you… glorified mic stand with fake breasts! Me an’ Sal… You an’ Kid Fool… TONIGHT! Get your kneepads on, Bitch, because you’ll need ‘em for a different kind of action than YOU’RE used to!”

(Catfight: 79. Alicia Webb and Desire each gained 2 points of overness from this segment.)

Azrael of The Lost Boyz sprints down the ramp in his usual Goth attire. Desire slides out to the floor, satisfied with the challenge laid down. Az checks on his muse as we cut to…

-Commercials-

3. Azrael w/Gabriel vs. Mike Pittman w/Scott Cage (f):

After the break, we find The Lost Boyz on the ramp, escorting a distraught Alicia Webb backstage. Steven Prazak questions how they could show such concern for a woman in distress and just last week, they hit Rage with surprise chairshots for no apparent reason. His broadcast partner stands in the ring with cue cards, unable to provide an insight.

“Introducing FIRST… in the ring to my right… from The Middle of Nowhere… weighing in at 225 pounds… accompanied by fellow Lost Boy Gabriel… THIS is Azrrrrael!”

Azrael sits in the corner, Raven-style, head down and muttering to himself. Thankfully gone are the body paint and occult symbols. Everything else is the same as it ever was, including the lackluster crowd response. Dammit.

“His opponent… from Atlantic City, New Jersey… weighing in at 190 pounds… accompanied by his Rage partner Scott Cage… please welcome Mike… Piiiittman!”

Cage reminds Pittman that he has his back, and isn’t that encouraging? Mike sports a black t-shirt, choker chain, black and white striped elbow pads, wristbands, and tights and simple black wrestling boots. His hair is cut short, his face shaven clean.

The two men circle, feeling each other out before the opening bell. Az is the first to fire off a snap kick to the side, but Pittman retaliates in kind, and we have the usual indy STIFF~! kick exchange. Azrael gets the advantage, hitting a back heel kick to the chest to back Pittman up and spinning into a roundhouse kick across the jaw in one smooth motion. Pittman’s hands go to his face as he flies into a sprawl on the mat. If a Mike Pittman gets kicked unconscious in Cornelia and nobody makes a sound, is it still workrate?

Azrael scoops him up and marches him to the corner, where he hooks his foot under the turnbuckle to set him in the proverbial tree of woe. Azrael backs up, face screwed up in a bitter snarl, then runs in and hops up to scrape his boot viciously across the face of his helpless foe. Referee Chris Emerson starts tugging at Pittman’s boot, trying desperately to free him. At least someone’s involved in the proceedings. Looks like most of the crowd died the moment the catfight ended.

Az tells him he’s got it covered, and lifts Pittman up in an inverted facelock. He falls out, and Pittman does indeed pop free, but right into a neckbreaker. Azrael shoves Emerson aside and starts to climb up to the top. He sets himself and leaps off for the Frog Splash Elbow Drop, but Pittman scurries out of the way just in time. Azrael sells it RVD-style, rolling on the canvas holding his elbow and howling in pain.

Mike Pittman takes a momentary breather, until Az gets up and moves in. Pittman catches a kick and doesn’t wait for the ensuing enzuiguiri, instead throwing Azrael across the ring with a dragon screw leg whip. Az rolls through and to his feet, but Pittman’s there to run him down with a big clothesline. Pittman makes the cover for 1… 2… Azrael kicks out.

Pittman pulls Azrael up by the stringy hair, but the Lost Boy is all furious offense, unloading punches and kicks faster than Pittman can block them. A high standing dropkick is the final salvo in the flurry and floors Pittman. Azrael covers for 1… 2… Pittman kicks out.

Az pulls Pittman up by the arm and sends him back-first into the turnbuckles. He runs in and hits a sweet springboard heel kick that was stiff as a mofo. Pittman wheels and spins, knocked for a loop. Azrael drops into a lateral press for 1… 2… 3-NO! Pittman rolls his shoulder.

Azrael pulls Pittman up and fires off a wild right hand, but Pittman ducks it and waits for Az to turn before delivering a superkick to the teeth. Pittman spits out some blood and perhaps a bit of tooth, then sends Azrael to the ropes. The backdrop is telegraphed, so Pittman eats another kick to the face. Azrael hits another one, knocking Pittman into the ropes. He catches Pittman on the bounce, hefting him up onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry.

Before Az can hit his intended move, however, Pittman slips behind and dropkicks him in the small of the back. Azrael stumbles into Referee Chris Emerson, knocking him out through the ropes at Scott Cage’s feet. Pittman hits a kick to the gut to double Azrael over and pulls him into a front facelock. He drapes the arm and gets a fistful of baggy red velvet pants. As he goes to lift Azrael up, Gabriel comes flying off the top, taking him down in a hurricanrana.

Despite protests from Scott Cage, Gabriel rolls out as Referee Chris Emerson slides back in. Azrael heads to the turnbuckles near his partner and leaps off with his half of The Unholy Roller, The Frog Splash Elbow Drop and hits it right on target. With Cage screaming in his ear from ringside, Emerson counts the 1… 2… 3.

No sooner has the bell rung than Gabriel is back in the ring, helping Azrael lay the boots into Mike Pittman. Scott Cage slides in and charges, ducking a pair of wild swings and coming off the far side with a clothesline on each. The Lost Boyz bail, but beneath all that eye shadow burns a bitter fury and bloodlust that hasn’t yet been sated. Or something. Cage checks on Pittman and Steven Prazak questions what could have sparked this change in attitude from The Lost Boyz as we go to break.

WINNER: Azrael, via undetected interference from Gabriel.

Yuck. DUD. (O:44. C:16. M:73. Azrael debuted his new toned-down Gothic gimmick and got 6 overness back for his effort. Mike Pittman gained 3 points of overness from the TV time. The dead crowd really killed this one. Guess they were expecting something different.)

-Commercials-

4. Sal del Rio and Desire vs. Kid Kool and Alicia Webb (f):

“Physical” by Olivia Newton-John plays as Desire leads her boytoy to the ring. He sheds his zippered jogging suit top and takes a few comical bodybuilding poses as Desire applauds wildly. Dan “the Dragon” Wilson can hardly contain his disgust as he makes the introductions.

“The following contest is a MIXED tag team match scheduled for one fall. Introducing FIRST… from Hollywood, SALifornia… weighing in at 187 pounds… the Wildside Junior Heavyweight Champion… Sal del Rrrrio!”

Sal strikes a pose, head turned to catch his profile, eyebrow raised. Desire slinks over to him and suggestively wraps herself around him. He just smiles and twirls out to kiss her on the wrist.

“His partner hails from Falmouth, Michigan, and is a Miss Galaxy runner-up… She is EVERY man’s… Deeeesire!”

Desire struts her stuff around the ring as Sal nods approvingly and applauds.

“Their opponents… FIRST, from Every Girl’s Fantasy… weighing 180 pounds… Kiiiid Kool! And HIS partner… from Houston, Texas… our very own Wildside correspondent… Aliciaaaa Webb!”

Kid Kool holds the ropes for Alicia, who immediately gets in the face of Desire. Alicia is dressed for action in a halter top, tight lycra pants that flare at the bottom, and elbow pads, all black. Sal steps in front of his very personal trainer, forcing Kid Kool to start for his side despite Alicia’s eagerness. Sal mouths something about “ring rust” to Desire as she steps out onto the apron and we get our opening bell.

Sal turns from his show of disrespect right into a high hip toss that sends him into the center of the ring. He rolls up to his feet, angry and insolent, only to get thrown again. On the third try, he blocks and reverses, but turns away too soon to see Kid Kool land squarely on his feet.

Sal turns towards his corner and points to his temple, indicating his genius. His brow furrows in confusion as Desire stomps her foot and shouts at him. He turns away to face his opponent and eats a high standing dropkick that knocks him back into his own corner. Alicia cheers from the apron, but she’s the only one.

Sal seems to be considering the tag, but shakes it off and regains his confidence. A collar-and-elbow tie-up results in Sal marching his former partner into his corner. Referee Andrew Thomas calls for the clean break, and Sal reluctantly obliges, but when he turns from the corner with his hands up in feigned innocence, Desire slaps Kid Kool across the back of the head. He turns to scowl at her, leaving his back open for a series of half-hearted forearms from Sal del Rio.

The referee makes the count, getting to four before Sal breaks and takes Kid Kool out of the corner with an Irish whip. Alicia almost gets knocked off the apron with surprise as her partner runs up the turnbuckles and leaps off to take the incoming Sal del Rio down with a hurricanrana. Steven Prazak calls it “The Flying Squirrel!”

As Sal scrambles to his feet, Kool is already running up a neutral corner to nail another Flying Squirrel. They repeat the spot for the other neutral corner, with Sal growing ever more frustrated and disoriented. On the fourth go around, Kool stops just short of the heel corner and gives Desire a crotch chop. She shrieks at the insult and starts to climb into the ring, but pauses and thinks better of it. The dizzy Sal del Rio takes a wild, off-balance swing at Kid Kool, easily ducked and hooked. Kid Kool hooks the other arm, causing Sal to shake his head and scream “No! No!” It’s all in vain, however, as Kid Kool sloooowly drops to his knees and backslides Sal over for 1… 2… Sal springs free…

…and IMMEDIATELY scuttles to his corner on hands and knees, diving to tag out to an appalled Desire. She climbs into the ring and tentatively tests the ropes, unsure what to do. The relatively chivalrous Kid Kool looks equally uncertain. Alicia makes things easy, reaching in and practically demanding the tag. Kid Kool smiles, saunters over, and slaps her hand.

Alicia comes in talking smack a mile a minute. “A bodacious blonde spitfire,” Dan Wilson calls her. She gives the “Come get some” gesture, beckoning Desire to “Bring it.” Desire gets a less-than-encouraging pat on the back from Sal, but it serves to put her in gear, and she charges out… and right into Alicia’s arms. Alicia scoops her up, mere inches off her feet, and just long enough for some shouts of protest before “slamming” her to the canvas. Alicia doesn’t so much drop an elbow as trip into it and covers for 1… 2… Desire shrugs her aside.

Alicia pulls her rival up by the hair and guides her to the ropes. A couple of supposed knife-edge chops glance Desire’s prodigious chest, but manage to draw cries of “Whoo!” from Kid Kool. She whips Desire across and sets herself in the middle of the ring, practically holding a big flashing neon sign that says “backdrop.” Desire shows that Dusty Rhodes influence by hooking the top rope with her arms to avoid the trap and steps forward to smack Alicia in the face with a kick a good three seconds later. Alicia comes up holding her mouth, so Desire tries a chick kick, but Alicia catches it. She holds onto Desire’s boot, making her hop around on one leg. She wallows in her achievement too long, however, and takes the obvious enzuiguiri follow-up.

Desire heads over to her corner and starts to climb, but Sal has other plans, slapping her on the ass to tag himself in. She hops down off the turnbuckles and turns to glare at him, hands on her hips, but he just grins and gives her a big thumbs-up.

He pulls Alicia up by the hair and into a brusque front facelock. Kid Kool protests the hair pulling, getting the attention of both Referee Andrew Thomas and Sal, who tells him where to go and what to do when he gets there. Of course, this means nobody’s paying attention to Alicia, who drops to one knee out of the facelock and hits an uppernut low blow on Sal, making him crumple in pain. Kid Kool reaches out as the referee turns and Alicia makes the tag.

Kid Kool immediately heads up top and sets himself. He leaps off for yet another hurricanrana, but Sal hooks him around the waist and drops him for what a generous observer would call a release powerbomb. Sal staggers into the ropes and gets his second wind. He pulls Kid Kool into a front facelock and hooks the waistband of his tights. He lifts Kool up into vertical suplex position, holds him there for a moment, and shouts “Tully Blanchard fears me!” before hitting a slingshot suplex.

Sal gets up from his handiwork, arrogantly wiping his hands. He pulls Kid Kool up by the neck and turns to stand back-to-back with his former partner, facing Alicia and still holding Kool’s head. He gyrates his hips in a provocative manner and prepares to hit what one would suppose was intended to be a Rude Awakening neckbreaker, but Kid Kool slips free of his grip and hits an elbow to the small of the back. Kool steps back alongside him and hooks his leg for a cradle inverted Russian leg sweep.

Sal lies face-down on the mat, hands covering his face, as Kid Kool climbs to the top. He makes a “rolling” gesture with his hands as he steadies himself. He leaps and hits a 450 spin before nailing the elbow drop to the back of Sal del Rio. Prazak tells us Kool calls that “The Ultimate Back Bump.” He grabs Sal’s wrist and twists him into a magistral cradle for 1… 2… 3-NO! Desire makes the save by dropping to her knees beside them with more impact than the related double axe handle.

Referee Andrew Thomas sees her out as Kid Kool pulls Sal up in a front facelock. He hooks a leg, going for The Overnight Sensation, his cradle DDT, but Sal manages to get his legs back under him and barrels Kid Kool into a neutral corner. He hits a shoulder to the ribs… a second… a third… tries the back flip and charge, RVD-style, but Kid Kool gets his boot up to the jaw of Sal.

Kid Kool hops up onto the middle ropes and hurdles Sal del Rio for a sunset flip. Sal rolls through, however, and scores the basement dropkick to the face. He kips up and moves towards the nearby corner as Kid Kool gets back to a vertical base. Sal cries “Pass the Courvoisier!” as he spikes Kool with the namesake twisting springboard swinging DDT.

Alicia shouts desperate encouragement to Kid Kool as he gets stalked by Sal del Rio. Kool gets up, and Sal rushes in for The Chalupa Crunch, a step-up elevated double underhook leg face driver. Kid Kool sells it like a gunshot, and Alicia stands dejected as Sal rolls his foe over and lounges across him for the easy 1… 2… 3.

Sal gets his hand raised in victory. Desire intercepts the Junior Heavyweight Title before Referee Andrew Thomas can hand it to Sal and makes like she’s going to strap it around his waist. She turns instead to where Alicia is checking on her partner and sort of pastes her across the back of the head with it. At least that was the plan, I suppose, as Alicia rolls away clutching her skull.

Desire and del Rio then lay the boots to Kid Kool as the bell rings incessantly. That summons help from the back, but they don’t arrive until after Sal stands with one foot on his former friend’s chest as Desire straps the belt around his waist. The heel couple depart together, proud of their “accomplishment.” The announce team predictably shills it as the most disgusting display of bad sportsmanship since “Rowdy” Roddy Piper shaved the head of a helpless midget.

WINNERS: Sal del Rio and Desire, cleanly (Sal del Rio over Kid Kool with The Chalupa Crunch).

I’ll give a ½ star rating. (O:48. C:49. M:48. Far too many repetitive spots. Sadly, this wasn’t so much old school as old RECESS. Sal del Rio debuted his new Cocky gimmick. It got a positive response, earning him 8 points of overness.)

-Commercials-

5. Jay Freeze w/Brandon P vs. Adam Windsor (f) w/Jeremy Lopez:

When we return, the ring is cleared save for Dan “the Dragon” Wilson and his cue cards.

“Introducing FIRST… wrestling out of Chapel Hill, North Carolina… accompanied to the ring by his Future Shock partner, Brandon P… weighint in at 215 pounds… Jay Frrrreeeze!”

Jay jogs through the curtain and runs his fingers through his buzzed hair. Brandon nods approvingly and pats him on the back. Jay taunts a few good ol’ boys on the way to the ring, mocking their yammering with a “Blah-blah-blah” response. Eventually, he hops up the ring steps, wipes his boots on the apron, and slingshots himself into the ring with a fluorish.

“Pomp and Circumstance” plays, but it’s not Adam Windsor who comes through the curtain in the trademark red-white-and-blue sequined Union Jack robe. Instead, Jeremy Lopez takes a theatrical twirl in it with “The Royal Stud” following behind in his royal blue singlet, kneepads, and boots. Windsor struggles to carry a wooden tray bearing a plate of sushi, some chopsticks, a bottle of saki, and a small cup.

“His opponent hails from Coventry, England and is led to the ring by… his MASTER, ugh… Jeremy Lopez… Weighing 214 pounds... he is royally bred… of royal blood… The Royal Stud… Adam Wiiiindsor!”

Windsor sets the tray down at the announce position then starts to head to the ring, but Lopez summons him back and turns around with arms held out, waiting for Windsor to remove his own robe from Jeremy. Adam winces, but obeys, pulling the robe off, folding it neatly, and setting it on a nearby chair. Jeremy takes a seat at the announce table and picks up a convenient extra headset.

“Well, isn’t this a pleasure and a treat,” Jeremy says. Steven Prazak lets his silence speak for itself as they’re joined by “The Dragon” for commentary.

Needless to say, the members of Future Shock find the whole display highly entertaining. Freeze laughs at the clearly agitated Adam Windsor as the latter climbs into the ring. The two circle at the opening bell, and Jay Freeze still shakes his head, incredulous.

They lock up, and Windsor quickly snags a side headlock. He wrenches at his arm while Freeze pushes and slides out to pull it into a hammerlock. Windsor pulls off a clean reversal into a hammerlock of his own.

“You think that rascally redneck Dory Funk taught him that?” Lopez asks.

“I imagine so,” Prazak answers.

Jay Freeze reaches back from the hammerlock and gets hold of Windsor’s hair. Referee Speedy Nelson cries foul, but it’s too little too late as Freeze uses the long blonde locks to snap mare Windsor over and break the hold. He winds up for a kick to the spine, but Windsor kips up quick and scores a back heel kick that knocks Freeze into the ropes. A high standing dropkick nails Freeze right on the chin and sends him tumbling over the top rope to bounce off the apron and down to the floor.

Brandon P is on the scene in a flash to check on his partner. Future Shock bark threats at Windsor, who just takes it in stride and sprints to the far side. He comes off for a baseball slide dropkick that hits both members of Future Shock and sends them sprawling into the ringside railing.

“Do they even HAVE baseball in Atlanta anymore?” Lopez asks.

“Idiot! Of course they do! Ever hear of the Atlanta Braves?!” Prazak responds.

Jay Freeze climbs up onto the apron. Windsor approaches and dodges a wild punch. Jay grips the top rope with his other hand to keep his balance. Adam hits a side kick through the ropes and to the midsection. Jay doubles over, but still holds onto the ropes to remain on the apron.

“That’s right… I thought Ted got rid of all those career underachievers when he got out of the ‘rasslin’ business. Nowowow… pinch hitting… for Buffuffuff Bagwell… Horrrrace Hogan! In Japan, baseball’s still a sport for athletes, not a showcase for jacked-up nimrods with no respect for tradition.”

“Oh yeah,” counters Dan Wilson. “Everything’s better in Japan, right?”

Adam pulls Freeze into a front facelock and gets a grip on the waistband of his tights. He lifts and backs up, ready to take Jay Freeze into the ring with a vertical suplex. Jay Freeze drops out the back of the suplex attempt to land on his feet behind Adam Windsor. A dropkick to the base of the spine sends Adam Windsor stumbling into the ropes, draped over the middle.

“You bet yer fire-breathing dragon ass. But what would you know, Wilson? You’re too busy trying to be Michael Buffer to learn anything about competition and culture. Lemme hear it just one time… Jerrrremy Rrrropez! C’mon, don’t get shy on me now, Wilson. The Rrrroyal Dud… Adam Wawawawaawindsor! I could do your monkey’s job, Danno.”

Brandon P reaches in and holds Windsor’s head there, choking him while Freeze talks politics with the distracted referee. Eventually, Freeze returns and pulls back on the top rope to slingshot himself into a knee drop, hanging Windsor up against the rope. He keeps him there for a four count, then breaks as ordered, only to repeat the process.

“You’re a consummate jackass… Jerrrremy… and we need to go to our final break. We’ll be rrrright… er, right back with the rest of this match.”

-Mid-Match Commercials-

When we return, it’s mere moments after we left, and Jay Freeze is pulling Adam Windsor away from the ropes and into a side Russian leg sweep. He floats over and hooks a leg for 1… 2… Adam kicks out.

Freeze pulls Adam up into a side headlock and shouts taunts down to the announce position. “Now, that’s talent,” Lopez says sarcastically. “Future… what is it… Shock? Whatever… They’re perhaps the hottest team in… You REALLY should try some of this saki, Prozac. It’s spec… tac… ular.”

“I’ll pass,” sighs Prazak.

Adam fights his way back to a vertical base and hooks Jay Freeze around the waist. He lifts and folds Freeze up with a big back suplex. Windsor keeps hold of the waist and bridges up in a pinfall attempt, getting 1… 2… Freeze springs free.

An Irish whip sends Jay Freeze slamming back-first against the turnbuckles. Adam hits a few overhand chops, then hefts Freeze onto his shoulder and sets him straddling the top turnbuckle. Adam climbs up and pulls Freeze into a front facelock. He lifts and scores a SWEET delayed superplex. Adam floats over for 1… 2… 2.9999! Freeze rolls his shoulder to avoid defeat.

Adam pulls Freeze up and calls for The Kryptonite Krunch. Freeze hits a few desperation elbows to prevent it, however, and puts Windsor on the mat with a drop toe hold. He chickenwings both arms, pulling Adam up for what would presumably be a tiger suplex. He can’t keep both arms hooked, however, and “The Royal Stud” holds his head on his shoulder and drops into a Royal Stunner. Jay Freeze pops up, reeling, as Adam gets back to his feet. Adam Windsor stutter steps back and scores with The Superkick! Adam pulls Freeze up and is able to hit The Kryptonite Krunch this time. He hooks the leg and gets the 1… 2… 3.

WINNER: Adam Windsor, cleanly, with The Kryptonite Krunch.

I’ll give it a *½ rating. (O:57. C:42. M:72. Adam Windsor gained a point of overness from the big win.)

6. Royal Bloodbath:

“Holy sh*bleep*, Wilson!” cries Jeremy Lopez in shock and surprise. “Get in there and announce that kid as the winner! Isn’t this some kind of historic FIRST here in Wildside? Adam Windsor wins a match… Well, I’ll be tarred and fea… Ah, dammit! Spilled saki all over my new sharkskin boots…”

Dan “the Dragon” Wilson indeed does the honors as Referee Speedy Nelson raises Adam Windsor’s hand in victory. Lopez calls Adam over. Pleased with his big win, Adam climbs out and stands in front of his rival, expecting congratulations, I suppose. Instead, he gets an order to shine Jeremy’s boots.

Adam Windsor hesitates, unsure, until Jeremy Lopez repeats the order and passes him his robe to assist in the task. Windsor looks down at the robe, balled up in his hands, down at Jeremy’s boots, and then up at his temporary “master.” Adam throws the robe down and refuses, turning away.

Lopez spins him back around and hits a boot to the gut, then his Double Underhook Elevated DDT on the concrete. He takes the wooden sushi tray off the announce table, spilling its contents everywhere, and cracks it across the back of “The Royal Stud.” Jeremy reaches down and comes up with a few fingers of wasabi, Japanese horseradish, and wipes it in Adam’s eyes. Adam howls, rubbing at his burning eyes ineffectually. Lopez straddles his back and proceeds to carve his already bleeding forehead with a broken chopstick.

“We need to cut away from this!” cries Steven Prazak. “If you can hear me out in the production truck, please cut to something… ANYTHING!”

Of course, we stay with the attack, until Jeremy Lopez leaves his English manservant a bloody, messy, sputtering heap. He picks up the bottle of saki, takes a final slug from it, and throws it down to shatter on the concrete, splashing Windsor’s splayed form. For a final taunt, Lopez wipes his face and hands on Windsor’s robe and drapes it over him like a shroud.

Prazak is still in full panic mode. “Good God, Dan! I… I… Can we get some help out here! The show’s over! Stop the feed and get somebody down here!” Fade to black.

(Run In Blood Attack: 56. Jeremy Lopez and Adam Windsor each gained 2 points of overness from this segment.)

Overall Rating: 60 % (-7 %. Undercard MADNESS!)

TV Rating: 0.39 (+0.01)

Strongest Segment: Alicia Webb opens the show with Jeremy V. (80%)

Weakest Segment: The opening match and sour crowd. (44%)

Attendance: 159 @ $20 each (+4)

Feedback, criticism, ideas, and verbal attacks are all welcome and encouraged. Thanks for reading, and we’ll see ya soon!

Have fun,

TheRay

Thanks much for the feedback, Hajj. Anybody else have any thoughts? Anyone...?

from nwa-wildside.com

Wildside Rankings

Official Wildside Rankings for the month of September, 2003

National Wrestling Alliance BOD Champions:

NWA World Champion: “The Phenomenal” AJ Styles

NWA World Tag Team Champions: America's Most Wanted (Chris Harris and James Storm)

NWA X Division Champion: Kid Kash

NWA World Jr. Heavyweight Champion: Rocky Reynolds

NWA North American Champion: Hotstuff Hernandez

NWA Wildside Heavyweight Champion: “The Ticking Time Bomb” Scottie Wrenn – 275 lbs. Charlotte, NC

1) “The Soul Assassin” Rainman – 221 lbs. The Dark City (Wildside World TV Champion)

2) Jeremy Lopez – 187 lbs. Tampa, FL

3) Lazarus – 183 lbs. Kentwood, LA

4) “The Original XTC” Jimmy Rave – 210 lbs. The Underground

5) Kendall Windham – 260 lbs. Sweetwater, TX

6) Smokey Carmichaels – 185 lbs. Harlem, NY

7) Jon Heidenreich – 300 lbs. New Orleans, LA

8) Barry Windham – 275 lbs. Sweetwater, TX

9) “The Genetic Specimen” Onyx – 217 lbs. Jamaica City, Queens, NY

10) John Hennigan – 201 lbs. Los Angeles, CA

NWA Wildside Tag Team Champions: The West Texas Rednecks – Combined 535 lbs., Sweetwater, TX

1) Cirque de Sade (Lazarus and Sylvian Grenier) – Combined 423 lbs., Kentwood, LA and Paris, France

2) Jimmy Rave and Onyx – Combined 427 lbs., The Underground and Jamaica City, Queens, NY

3) Future Shock (Brandon P and Jay Freeze) – Combined 435 lbs., Chapel Hill, NC

4) Rage (Mike Pittman and Scott Cage) – Combined 396 lbs., Atlantic City, NJ and Ft. Lauderdale, FL

5) Tank and Scottie Wrenn – Combined 555 lbs., Union Beach, NJ and Charlotte, NC

NWA Wildside Jr. Heavyweight Champion: Sal del Rio – 183 lbs. Every Girl’s Fantasy

1) “The Real” Slim J – 189 lbs. Detroit, MI

2) Jeremy V – 190 lbs. Myrtle Beach, SC

3) Jay Freeze – 215 lbs. Chapel Hill, NC

4) Gabriel – 207 lbs. The Middle Of Nowhere

5) Kid Kool – 180 lbs. Every Girl’s Fantasy

Rankings Analysis:

- Although there are no weight restrictions on contenders to the NWA Wildside Heavyweight Championship, a number of contenders would truly be classified as junior heavyweights and are at a considerable weight disadvantage.

- Lazarus has really come into his own, moving up from #7 all the way to #3 with a trio of victories over Adam Windsor, John Hennigan, and his beloved Onyx. This causes Windsor to drop off the chart and moves Hennigan down from #8 to #10, but “The Genetic Specimen” suffers the most from his loss, dropping from #6 to #9.

- Jimmy Rave and Kendall Windham trade the #4 and #5 slot. Rave split his matches with Jay Freeze and Smokey Carmichaels, picking up a win and a loss respectively. Kendall, meanwhile, defeated newcomer Jon Heidenreich, but that victory is sandwiched between blown shots at the NWA Wildside Heavyweight Championship, the first by disqualification, the second by countout.

- Speaking of Smokey, his much-needed win over rival Jimmy Rave moved him up three places from #9 to #6.

- Jon Heidenreich makes his debut at #7, holding a loss to Kendall Windham, but a win over his brother Barry. The Wildside CEO’s loss drops him from #3 to #8.

- The former NWA Wildside Tag Team Champions, Tank and Wrenn, drop to the #5 contendership slot primarily due to the departure of Tank. This leaves an opening at the top of the heap for Cirque de Sade, who picked up their debut win at Double Indemnity.

- The dysfunctional duo of Smokey Carmichaels and Lazarus have ended their makeshift partnership and dropped off the rankings.

- With his employment restored, Slim J has moved to the top of NWA Wildside Jr. Heavyweight Championship contenders. While his win over Jeremy V was unsanctioned by the NWA, he has still fared better than the other contenders.

- Jay Freeze and Gabriel both suffered a loss in the past month, Freeze to Jimmy Rave, Gabriel to NWA Wildside Jr. Heavyweight Champion Sal del Rio in a title defense. They each drop two spots, from #1 and #2 to #3 and #4 respectively.

- This leaves room for Jeremy V to move up from #4 to #2 with a victory over Todd Sexton. His loss to Slim J goes unrecognized by the NWA.

September 28, 2003

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

Double Indemnity

Double Indemnity is held LIVE at The NWA Arena in Cornelia, Georgia.

1. Unfit to Catfight:

The show opens with the stunning Alicia Webb pacing the ring, microphone in hand, and decked out in a strapless white tube dress and pearl choker. She smiles and twirls on one high heel.

“Welcome to Double Indemnity!”

Alicia gets a decent pop, but the cheers turn to jeers as “Physical” by Olivia Newton-John hits. Desire carries the NWA Wildside Junior Heavyweight Title over her shoulder and is followed by its proper holder, Sal del Rio, who jogs behind her, a purple sweatshirt zipped up and hood drawn over his head. Desire wears her trademark white halter top and micro shorts with purple striping. Alicia gives them a skeptical glance as Desire holds the ropes for her man.

They circle our hostess for a moment, making her uneasy, before Desire snatches the house mic away.

“What’s the deal? Who do you have to sleep with to get some mic time around here? Surely you know, because I can’t think of any other reason why a chunky ring rat like you is out here wasting valuable time… time better spent on America’s heartthrob, Sal… del Rio.”

Alicia puts her hands on her hips and laughs with disbelief. “Chunky? Heartthrob?”

“Take the chicken wings out of your ears, you glorified Hooters girl, because that’s what I said. I’ll tell you what… How about we have a little contest… right here… right now… so I can show all these sweathogs what a gasbag sea cow you really are. I’m an athlete. What are you?”

Alicia whips the microphone back, making Desire back up a step.

“I’ll tell you what I am… SICK… and TIRED… of listening to you run your mouth. You want a contest? Name it. Bikini? Lingerie? Pick yer poison, and we’ll see who’s got the goods.”

The crowd cheers at the prospects. Alicia turns the microphone around and gingerly hands it to Desire, who smiles, the trap obviously sprung.

“Push-ups. And I’m not talking about your bra, Honey.”

Alicia pauses, then nods, wiping her hands on her dress and kicking off her shoes. She carefully gets down, giving the audience a good view, but nothing TOO revealing. Desire smiles and hands both the Junior Heavyweight Title and the microphone to Sal del Rio.

“I’ll count. Whoever can do the most push-ups wins. Ready?” he asks. “One… Two… Three… Four… Watch your form, Moose. Five…”

At this point, Desire nimbly rolls over to her feet and straddles Alicia, pulling her into a grinning camel clutch.

“Come on, Blimpie, let’s see it. You gonna quit on us?! You gonna tap out? Huh? Seven! Come on! Feel the burn!”

(Bikini Contest (sort of): 70. Desire gained 2 points of overness from her heelishness.)

Suddenly, Gabriel, of the Alicia-obsessed Lost Boyz, races down the ramp and slides into the ring. His hair is stringy and dyed blood red. He wears black pants and boots, elbow pads, and a Danzig goatskull t-shirt.

Gabriel knocks del Rio flat with a rolling kick and grabs Desire by the hair and the waistband of her shorts, practically making them disappear. As Desire howls, he tosses her through the ropes and to the floor. Alicia scurries out of the ring and up the ramp, holding her neck, while Desire takes up a position at ringside near her boytoy.

Gabriel picks up the dropped title belt and holds it against his waist. Sal del Rio looks up and shakes his head. Gabriel points at Sal, at himself, and then at the belt, then nods snarling, before handing the belt and the house mic to Dan “the Dragon” Wilson at ringside.

“The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL and is for the Wildside… Junior… Heavyweight… Title! Introducing the CHALLENGER… from The Middle of Nowhere… weighing 210 pounds… one half of The Lost Boyz… Gabrrrriel!

His OPPONENT… the reigning and defending champion… from Hollywood, SALifornia… weighing in at 187 pounds… Sal del Rrrrio!”

2. Gabriel w/o Azrael (f) vs. Sal del Rio w/Desire (For The NWA-W Junior Heavyweight Title):

Sal is shaking his head “No!” while Gabriel’s still nodding “Yes.” Looking around for relief and not finding it, Sal decides to lunge in for a collar and elbow tie-up. The two struggle for a bit, then break with neither man holding a decided advantage.

After a brief staredown, the two men lock up again. With Desire slapping the apron, urging him on, Sal is able to march Gabriel to the ropes. Referee Andrew Thomas enforces the break, but Sal del Rio still hits an armdrag to send Gabriel tumbling to the center of the ring. Desire cheers as Sal beams and breaks out a cocky jumping jack taunt.

They circle for a bit then lock up for a third time. Gabriel quickly snags a side headlock, causing Sal to exclaim “Ow! Ow! Ow!” before shooting The Lost Boy off into the ropes. Sal barely gets a squared stance before Gabriel rebounds with a shoulder block, knocking him to the canvas. Gabriel springs up to his feet as Sal scrambles to all fours. Gabriel hops over for an Oklahoma roll… 1… 2… but he can’t get his hands locked.

Sal kicks out and to his feet where Gabriel meets him head-on. Sal tries a wild right hand, ducked by Gabriel, who hooks his elbow and then the other arm to drop down into a backslide. Sal protests in vain, getting pulled over for 1… 2… kick out.

Sal charges, visibly flustered, and tries a clothesline, but Gabriel hooks his arm and hops up, wrapping his legs around Sal’s other arm, dropping into a crucifix roll-up for 1… 2… Sal springs free and immediately bails into the comforting arms of Desire. She props him up and dusts him off as he shouts at the largely silent crowd to “Shut up!” Gotta love reverse psychology.

Meanwhile, Gabriel heads to the far ropes for a bounce. He comes off at a sprint and takes advantage of the distraction to hit Sal in the back of the head with a baseball slide dropkick, knocking him into the ringside railing with a clatter.

Gabriel gets to his feet and pulls back on the top rope to slingshot himself into an Arabian press, but Sal catches him on his shoulder and runs him head-first into the ring post. The champ then tosses Gabriel back into the ring as Desire applauds and takes his time climbing in after. Sal takes some more time to complain to Referee Andrew Thomas about this being a title defense, until Thomas makes the belt gesture around his waist and then motions for the match to continue.

Clearly angered, Sal winds up and hits a stiff kick to the ribs as Gabriel gets to a crouch. He then takes a rear chinlock, sliding to a blatant choke for four, then a return to the chinlock. Gabriel struggles up to one knee, then to his feet, shaking, and unloading a few elbows to break the hold. Not for long, however, as Sal pulls him into an inverted DDT onto his knee. He throws Gabriel to the mat and takes a quick lateral press for 1… 2… Gabriel kicks out.

Sal pulls the Lost Boy up by the wrist and tries an Irish whip, but Gabriel manages to plant his foot and reverse with authority. Sal tumbles over the top rope and onto the apron a la Ric Flair, and makes the classic move of racing to the corner and to the top. He hops off for a double axehandle, but Gabriel sidesteps and hits a spinning back kick to double Sal over. Gabriel springboards off the middle rope to hit a leg lariat, or del Rio dropper if you weeeeel.

Gabriel rolls Sal over and drags him by wrist and ankle to the corner. There, Gabriel pulls himself up to the top and signals for a flying senton. He leaps, but lands flat on his back as Desire reaches in and pulls the champ out of the way just in time. Referee Andrew Thomas has seen enough, and makes the motion to eject Desire, despite the combined pouting protests of both her and the man she’s propping up, Wildside Junior Heavyweight Champion Sal del Rio.

Gabriel impatiently rolls out of the ring and shoves Desire aside. He grabs the champ by the scruff of the neck and marches him towards the ring post, but Sal blocks with a raised boot. He then gets a fistful of scraggly Goth hair and rams Gabriel face-first into the ring post. As the Lost Boy staggers back, holding his forehead, Sal measures him and knocks him into the ringside railing with a running clothesline.

Sal leaves the challenger slumped and bleeding on the concrete at ringside and rolls into the ring, demanding that Referee Andrew Thomas count his foe out. With Desire slowly backing up the ramp, Thomas obliges, slowly counting 1… 2… 3… 4… Gabriel uses the railing to pull himself up… 5… 6… 7… Gabriel staggers towards the ring apron… 8… and EATS a baseball slide dropkick to the teeth from Sal del Rio.

Much to his chagrin, that causes the ref to restart the count, and Sal actually shoves him in disbelief. Thomas shoves Sal back and starts reading him the riot act. Meanwhile, Gabriel has plenty of time to recover, and makes his way back to his feet. Sal brushes the referee aside and sprints to the far ropes. He fakes a dive, hooking the top rope and pulling himself into a lounging posture, feet up and hands behind his head as if in a hammock.

He hops down and stomps on Gabriel’s hands as the Lost Boy leans on the ring apron, wiping the blood from his eyes. Sal has a middle finger for Gabriel and a middle finger for the crowd and a middle finger for the referee. Thomas shoots him back the bird, causing Sal to stomp his feet at the gall. He turns, shocked to find Gabriel on the ring apron. They exchange punches for a bit, until Gabriel blocks one. The I-block-your-punch-you-don’t-block-mine routine passes three rounds until Gabriel pulls Sal into a front facelock. He gets a fistful of purple tights and lifts. We get a long delay for suspense purposes, then they crash to the concrete, Sal’s boot hitting the railing with a clang.

After a short pause, presumably for a holy shit chant that never comes, Referee Andrew Thomas begins counting both men out. 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… Gabriel is up, and pulls his foe up as well… 7… 8… 9… He bundles Sal del Rio in under the bottom rope to break the count and rolls himself in after. Gabriel drapes an arm over Sal for 1… 2… Sal gets a foot on the bottom rope to break the pinfall.

Gabriel pulls him up by the neck and lands a European uppercut to send him reeling into the ropes. An Irish whip sends Sal across. A high backdrop sends del Rio crashing to the mat. Gabriel climbs up to the top and sets himself, whipping back his blood and sweat-soaked mane. He points and gazes upward as Sal struggles to a vertical base. Gabriel leaps and hits his half of The Unholy Roller, a top rope rana. He tries to hook both legs, but can only snare the left for 1… 2… 3-NO! Somehow, the champion manages to roll his shoulder.

Gabriel scoops Sal up and marches him into the corner, where he slams him against the turnbuckles, then locks him upside down in the tree of woe. Gabriel stomps out, builds up a head of steam, and races in for a running dropkick to the chest that causes Sal to cringe and cover up. Gabriel lays in a few more vicious kicks before rolling out to the apron. He climbs to the top, reaching down to pull a seemingly helpless Sal del Rio up there with him. Gabriel sets his feet on the top and actually hefts the Junior Heavyweight Champion into a fireman’s carry. He throws Sal off in a DVD, but the agile champ lands on his feet and takes Gabriel down off the top with an arm drag.

Sal keeps hold of the wrist and wrings the arm, hitting a back heel kick to knock Gabriel down. He heads to the corner and climbs up top with considerable effort. He sets himself and cries out “Better than Macho Man!” before leaping for a flying elbow drop that hits Gabriel square in the sternum. Gabriel does the sit up in pain sell while Sal rolls to his feet and measures him.

Gabriel slowly gets up, only to eat The Chalupa Crunch (step-up elevated double underhook face driver)! Sal del Rio rolls him over, leaving a little blood stain where his head hit the mat, and fumbles exhaustedly to hook a leg for 1… 2… 3.

Sal gets his hand raised and quickly snatches up his belt. He rolls out to the floor and starts backing up the ramp, clutching it protectively. Azrael comes through the curtain, however, causing Sal to flee stumbling through the crowd and the technical area. Az pays him no mind, instead helping his partner up and to the back.

WINNER: Sal del Rio retains, cleanly.

Rating: 1/2 star. (O:48. C:23. M:73. The NWA Wildside Junior Heavyweight Title has gained in image. Sal del Rio gained 5 points of overness from the hard-fought title defense, while Gabriel gained a much needed 3 points from the exposure.)

3. Jeremy V (f) vs. Slim J in an Unsanctioned Match:

“The following contest is a ONE FALL match, and is NOT sanctioned by the NWA! Referee Andrew Thomas will count the pinfall or call the submission. Other than THAT, anything goes. Introducing FIRST…”

“Jeremy” by Pearl Jam begins to play, and out comes Jeremy V. He strolls out, head down, long blonde hair framing his serious face. He’s busy wrapping his right hand with red tape, his left already done. His red and black tights are adorned with a bold white “V” to make it easy to tell him apart from the Eminem wannabe.

“From Myrtle Beach, South Carolina… weighing in at 201 pounds… this is Jeeeeremy V!"

Jeremy tears off the red tape and tosses the roll to the floor behind him. He climbs into the ring and takes to the top turnbuckle. He closes his eyes, but keeps his head down while giving the crowd the old double V salute. Chilling…

“Guess who’s back… back again… Guess who’s back… tell a friend… Guess who’s back-Guess who’s back-Guess who’s back…”

Slim J bursts through the curtain as we crossfade from copyrighted material to his generic hip-hop beat. He hits a spin move at the top of the ramp and rips off his white wifebeater and headband. He tousles his blonde buzz cut then hits a crotch chop at his opponent.

“His OPPONENT hails from Motown… Detroit, Michigan… weighing in at 189 pounds… The REAL Slim J!”

Jeremy V doesn’t wait for the bell, and instead slides out to retrieve his opponent. Slim J’s ready for him, however, and meets him with some stiff right hands. He backs up and then runs in for The Shinnywalk, a step-up bicycle kick that lays Jeremy out flat. Slim throws Jeremy V into the ring and climbs in after him.

Jeremy gets up to a crouch, only to get pulled the rest of the way up and taken over with a butterfly suplex. Slim J takes a cocky strut to the corner and climbs up to the top. He grabs his crotch and falls forward for a glancing swan dive head butt.

Slim tries a lazy one-foot cover, but Referee Chris Emerson is barely in position by the time Jeremy kicks out. Slim grabs his wrist and wrings the arm for a bit. Jeremy slaps at his arm as he works himself up to one knee and then his feet, where an elbow to the face is all it takes to break the hold. Jeremy hits a boot to the gut to double Slim J over. He chickenwings both arms and lifts Slim into The VDT, a double underhook side slam.

Jeremy whips his hair back and heads to the turnbuckles. He climbs up top and throws up the double V salute. Live long and prosper indeed. He sets himself, then leaps into a tight 450 splash he calls The Flying V that catches Slim half sitting up. Jeremy hooks a leg for 1… 2… Slim kicks out of a version of his very own finisher.

Jeremy drops a few quick corkscrew elbows to the chest to keep Slim on the mat, then heads back to the top. He turns to face the crowd this time and gives another double V salute. He leaps for his Moonsault finisher, but Slim manages to roll out of the way just in time, leaving Jeremy to crash and burn.

Slim struggles to his feet and pulls Jeremy up in a front facelock. He hooks a leg and lifts, nailing the fisherman’s buster. He covers, keeping the leg hooked, for 1… 2… Jeremy kicks out.

Slim backs into the ropes, then bounces off with a little cabbage patch action before hitting a soft leg drop across the throat. He takes a lateral press for 1… 2… 3-NO! Jeremy rolls his shoulder.

Frustrated, Slim says “Fuck this shit,” and heads out to the floor to fetch a steel chair. He folds it up and slides back into the ring with it. He tests it, banging it against the mat, and winds up. Jeremy manages to duck the wild swing, however, and hits a step-up enzuiguiri.

Jeremy retrieves the chair and sets it on the mat. He gets behind Slim J and ducks under his legs, lifting Slim onto his shoulders facing forward. Slim shakes his head fearfully as Jeremy stands with the chair below him. He drops Slim into The V Bomb, a reverse powerbomb, right onto the chair. Referee Chris Emerson visibly winces, then heads over to check on Slim J, who appears to be out cold.

Both Emerson and Jeremy V are suddenly distracted, however, by the arrival of former Wildside CEO Jeff G. Bailey, who has made his way down the aisle, clipboard in hand. He climbs up into the ring, and Jeremy V is in his face immediately, hands on hips, ready to argue against any of Bailey’s litigious nonsense. Bailey’s not forthcoming on his business, however, and holds the clipboard at arm’s length, playing a curious game of keep-away with both Jeremy AND Referee Chris Emerson.

Meanwhile, Slim J rouses and rolls over onto hands and knees. He wipes his mouth, checking for blood, then comes up to wobbly legs, steel chair held in a two-fisted grip. He winds up and WAFFLES an oblivious Jeremy V across the back with it. Not content to just drive Jeremy to all fours, he whacks him a second time, laying him out flat.

Referee Chris Emerson almost falls over in surprise. Slim nudges Jeremy onto his back with a boot and casually tosses the chair aside. Jeff G. Bailey steps out of the corner, making an “After you” gesture to Slim J, who cuts him a glare on his way to the top turnbuckle. He sets his feet and leaps off for the 420 (450) Splash. Emerson slides into position to count the academic 1… 2… 3.

WINNER: Slim J picks up the pinfall due to distraction from Jeff G. Bailey.

It was close to a ** match, but one too many blown spots knocks it down to a *1/2 rating. (O:58. C:35. M:81. Slim J gained 2 points of overness from the cheap win, while Jeremy V gained 3 points from the exposure.)

4. No Free Styling:

After getting announced as the winner, Slim J takes the microphone from Dan “the Dragon” Wilson.

“The Real Slim J… back in effect.

Take me lightly and yer gonna get wrecked…”

Jeff G. Bailey cuts the festivities short by plucking the mic from Slim’s hand. He tucks the clipboard under his arm and holds up a pleading hand to keep an ass kicking at bay.

“Hold on. Hold on. Hear me out, Slim. Hear me out.”

The fans give Bailey a chorus of boos, and not because they particularly want to hear Slim’s rap, but they CERTAINLY don’t want to hear Bailey’s.

“Slim… THIS is just the sort of bullshit that got you into this mess. Yeah. Don’t hate the player, hate the game. That’s right. Like it or not, this is a business, and while you’ve got talent… anyone can see that… you’ve got skills, Son, but what you DON’T have… what I DO have… is a mind for this business.”

Slim looks Bailey up and down and sneers derisively. Bailey adjusts his tie and then continues, gesturing wildly with clipboard back in hand.

“Ask anyone. Ask Rick Michaels… Oh wait. He’s not here anymore is he? Well then, ask Tank… Oh, yeah. That’s right… Y’know, maybe you should just read the writing on the proverbial wall, Slim, because what it says is… The Elite prosper… and the weak falter. You see, Slim, you stand at a crossroads. One road’s a dead end. It’s a dead end, Slim, because imitators don’t get very far.”

This gets a rise out of Slim, who stands now, fists on hips, waiting impatiently for Bailey to get to the point he’s started to verbally dance around.

“With my help… with my GUIDANCE… Slim… you can be an INNOVATOR… instead of an imitator. You can be one of the NWA Elite… instead of a curtain jerker. I see promise in you, Slim, but it’s going to take a lot of work. Mostly work for me, but you’ll have to do your part too. Y’see… I just don’t think we’ve really seen much of the so-called REAL Slim J.”

Slim abandons his defensive posture, looking confused, curious, and vaguely hurt. Jeff G. Bailey nods, the hook set, working to reel Slim in.

“The REAL Slim J doesn’t rap for free to appease these lemmings. The REAL Slim J wins matches and cashes checks. The REAL Slim J wins titles and ends careers. The REAL Slim J signs this contract and returns to the NWA Wildside roster as one of Jeff G. Bailey’s hand-picked demigods… as one of the NWA Elite… and takes the road less traveled, because it’s harder and more demanding… because some people can’t make it down that long, lonely road. So, what’ll it be, Slim? The dead end or the long, lonely road. Just remember, that if you look back and see only a single set of footprints behind you, it’s because I was willing to carry you.”

The sacrilegious comment draws predictable jeers from the conservative Christian crowd, and Jeff G. soaks it up. Slim looks down at his boots, conflicted, then snaps his head up. He draws back and looks about to clock Bailey, but quickly relents and reaches out, fingers beckoning for the clipboard. Bailey smiles and passes it over. Slim gives it a cursory glance, then slides out the pen and signs on the dotted line. Insert your own favorite soul-selling cliché here.

Bailey concludes his business with a handshake, then makes a big production number of stepping over the prone form of Jeremy V to hold the ropes for his new client. They depart together, with Jeff even going so far as to throw a jolly arm around Slim’s shoulder. Jeremy, meanwhile, is hauled to the back on a board.

(Worker Signs Contract For Authority: 63. Jeff G. Bailey and Slim J each gained 3 points of overness from this dirty deal.)

5. Adam Windsor (f) vs. Jeremy Lopez in an Indentured Servitude Match:

“Ladies and gentlemen… The following is an Indentured Servitude Match. The loser will… for all intents and purposes… be the property of the winner for a period of no less than THIRTY days. Introducing FIRST… weighing 214 pounds... from Coventry, England… royally bred of royal blood… THIS is The Royal Stud… Adam Wiiiindsor!”

“Pomp and Circumstance” begins to play, and somewhere out there, Randy Savage is snarling and spinning in place with his arms out, I’m sure. No, instead, we’re treated to the entrance of “The Royal Stud” Adam Windsor. Windsor strides down the ramp, his broad shoulders draped with both a sweeping red-white-and-blue sequined robe and his long blonde hair. He climbs into the ring and gently folds up the robe before passing it down to ringside attendant and road agent, the lovely Lucy Texas. Underneath, he’s all business in a royal blue singlet, kneepads, and thick black boots. Adam paces the ring, eagerly awaiting his opponent.

“I want it all… I want it all… I want it all… and I want it NOW…”

“I Want It All” by Queen continues to play as Jeremy Lopez emerges from behind the curtain. His long brown hair is already wet. Water drips from his cheesy moustache and scruff. He carelessly tosses his plastic water bottle aside and sheds his red kanji t-shirt, leaving it in the aisle. He wears red vinyl tights with black lightning bolts down the sides to his simple black boots.

“And his opponent… hailing from Tampa, Florida at 187 pounds… Jeremy Loooopez!”

Jeremy climbs into the ring and holds out a hand as Adam Windsor approaches, then beckons to Dan “the Dragon” Wilson for the microphone.

“Let’s make sure we’re all on the same page here, shall we? Now, apparently, you’re a bit jealous of my success, which is understandable... Given my track record of late, I’m surprised you agreed to this match. See, the loser is going to be the winner’s bitch, understand? This isn’t some stipulation some writer cooked up that’ll be forgotten next week when Behrens fires creative and hires a bunch of washed up comedians to book the product. This is a gentleman’s agreement… a wager of honor… and I intend to hold you to it.”

Dan Wilson takes the microphone back from Jer-Lo.

“We get the picture, but I don’t think it’s your winning that upsets us, it’s HOW you…”

Lopez jerks the microphone out of Wilson’s hand and shoves him back. “The Dragon” fumes and balls up his fists, but relents.

“Just stop right there, Danno. In THIS ring, all I wanna hear outta you is weights and hometowns. You wanna interject your thoughts, you do it down there at the damn announce position. This is MY ring and this is MY time.

Now… I’ve already proven that despite your claims to BLUE blood, Adam, you bleed crimson just like the rest of us. You’re not in Merry Old England anymore. You’re not special here. You’re not royalty. You’re not privileged.

I, however, AM special. I AM privileged, because I AM something you’re not… a WINNER. Y’see, when I’m not putting on clinics for the wannabes here in Podunk, I’m wrestling in Japan, where tradition and honor mean more than pyro and bimbo bikini contests. Over there, when two guys are at an impasse like I am with you, they settle things in the ring, with PRIDE on the line.

The only thing I actually want from you, Adam, is for you to get out of my way… out of my business. I have NO idea what you want from ME, so I’m going to make this simple. Just like the days of old Japan, the loser of tonight’s contest will be the winner’s servant for thirty days. I’m going to need someone to polish my boots as I make my run for the Heavyweight Title.

If you can agree to those terms, Fancy Boy, then you take a few fateful steps forward and shake my hand, and we’ll throw down right now. If NOT… then I’m going to walk outta here and give you a countout victory, because frankly, I can stand to lose a match, and I’m not going to put my title quest in jeopardy just to satisfy the pipe dreams of some spoiled limey punk.”

Lopez hits Wilson hard in the chest with the microphone and dismisses him with a gesture. He stares down Windsor, who ponderously takes those crucial steps forward and stands nose-to-nose with his rival. Slowly, he reaches down and takes the offered hand from Lopez.

Lopez smiles and then quickly takes advantage, twisting the wrist into an arm-wringer and hitting Windsor with a side crescent kick to the face. He shakes his head and laughs at Adam’s naivete briefly before unloading some elbows to the back of his head and neck.

Jeremy gruffly pulls Adam into a front facelock and gets a grip on his singlet. He sets himself and lifts, then falls forward for a brainbuster. Jeremy kicks at the back of Adam’s head, more taunting him than anything else, and falls into an elbow drop across the back.

He pulls Adam up by the hair and scoffs at the warning from Referee Chris Emerson. He fires off a boot to the gut, but Windsor catches it and sweeps his other leg, taking him down to the canvas. Adam twists into a spinning toe hold and drops a knee on the inside of Jeremy’s leg. With Jeremy’s leg pinned beneath his knee, Adam begins to pull on Jeremy’s ankle, bending it back against the grain.

Jeremy writhes on the mat for a bit as Adam works the leg, but it’s all just to set up a figure-four leg lock. Adam gets hold of the ankle, steps in and turns, but Jer-Lo boots him off towards the corner. Adam runs up the turnbuckles and perches on the top as Jeremy scrambles to his feet. Adam leaps and twists, hitting a high cross body block. Lopez crumples, pinned for 1… 2… Jeremy kicks out strong, tossing Adam aside.

Adam rains down forearms on Jeremy’s neck and shoulders as he pulls him up by the scruff of the neck. A boot to the midsection keeps him doubled over. Adam steps into a standing headscissors and hooks Jeremy around the waist. He lifts, presumably setting up for a powerbomb or old school piledriver, but Jeremy kicks for all he’s worth. Adam puts him back down on his feet. Jeremy gets his legs under him and backdrops out.

Windsor gets to his feet and turns, walking right into The Ichiban Sequence. Lopez hits a boot to the gut, the arm-wringer/crescent kick combo, and a reverse neckbreaker, all in rapid succession. He massages some feeling back into his knee for a moment, then takes a lateral press for 1… 2… Windsor kicks out.

Jeremy pulls Adam up by the arm and tries an Irish whip, but Adam sets his foot and reverses. Adam telegraphs a clothesline in his inexperience. Lopez hooks the arm and shifts into a quick double chickenwing for a BRUTAL tornado double underhook DDT. Windsor got spiked. Jer-Lo rolls it, maintaining the double chickenwing as he pulls Windsor up and into a tiger driver. He hooks Adam around the waist for 1… 2… 3-NO! Somehow, Adam Windsor springs free of the pinfall.

Jeremy nods his approval and jerks Adam up by the arm. This time, the Irish whip goes off without a hitch. Jeremy spins for The Rolling Elbow, but Adam has it scouted and ducks under, putting on the brakes just past his opponent. Lopez turns and eats The Superkick!

Lopez flies back, bouncing into the ropes. Adam pushes him against them, and tries a whip across, but Jeremy snares his wrist and turns it into an arm-wringer. He immediately goes for the crescent kick, but Adam ducks it and pumphandles Jeremy up onto his shoulder. He marches forward for a powerslam, but Jeremy drops out the back and hits an inverted DDT onto his knee.

Windsor bounces off and staggers. Lopez pulls him back into a rear waistlock, looking for a German suplex, but Windsor blocks and manages a standing switch. He bundles Jeremy into the ropes and rolls back, but Jeremy rolls through and reaches out to grab the near ropes for leverage… 1… 2… 3!

The illegal advantage goes unnoticed by Referee Chris Emerson, who raises Jeremy’s hand in victory. Adam looks skeptical, but tries to take the high road and offers a handshake to Lopez. Jer-Lo scoffs and rolls out of the ring. He points at his discarded t-shirt and water bottle, telling Adam to “Pick up my shit.”

WINNER: Jeremy Lopez, by pinfall, illegally using the ropes for leverage.

Worth a ** rating, but no more than that. (O:61. C:48. M:75. Adam Windsor and Jeremy Lopez each lost a point of overness due to this stagnating feud.)

6. Cirque de Sade (Lazarus and ?) vs. John Hennigan and Onyx (f):

The house lights dim, and creepy calliope music begins to play courtesy of “Season of the Dead” by Deathwatch Beetle Repairmen. Red and blue spotlights play over the entrance area, finally focusing on Lazz, who struts out in thigh-high boots, black satin breeches, a pinstriped tuxedo jacket with tails, and a high top hat. He carries a black stick cane flamboyantly in one hand. With a flourish, he doffs the hat and gestures towards the top of the ramp with his cane.

There, a pair of robed and hooded figures (my money’d be on Future Shock or Rage, neither of which have a match tonight) pull a large wheeled box out by lengths of chain attached to handles. Mini-Onyx helps Lazz direct traffic, decked out in his own miniature Goth carnival ensemble. Lazz orders his “druidic” helpers to spin the box and position it ominously at ringside. The structure is of dark wood and banded with black leather straps and silver buckles, looking like something made for David Copperfield by Rob Zombie.

Lazz passes his hat, cane, and vest to his helpers, who carry them off, along with the lengths of chain, following Mini-Onyx out. This leaves Lazarus alone in the ring and open to inquiries from both Referee Speedy Nelson and Dan “the Dragon” Wilson. The house lights come back to full.

“Introducing FIRST… already in the ring… from the… blood-drenched… vampire-haunted… black bayous of Louisiana… weighing in at 183 pounds… THIS is Laaaazarus!”

Lazarus takes a sweeping theatrical bow. There’s a bit more muffled discussion as Wilson holds his hand over the microphone, but Lazz’s flippant gesturing just leaves him shaking his head.

“His OPPONENTS…”

The heavy beats of “Slam” by Onyx bring the man of the same name through the curtain, with his tag team partner for the night, John Hennigan, following close behind. Onyx is chiseled as always and already slick with sweat. He rips off his black bandanna and casts it aside, all anger and focus in his black cargo pants and boots. Hennigan is far less imposing in his GQ side-burned metrosexual look with simple black trunks, kneepads, and boots.

“Making their way to the ring… from Jamaica, Queens and Los Angeles, California… at a combined weight of 418 pounds… The Genetic Specimen, Onyx… and John Hennigaaaan!”

Hennigan and Onyx take a tentative walk past the box at ringside, then climb up into the ring in the corner opposite it. Onyx motions for “The Dragon” to bring him the microphone.

“I don’t know how’s to tell ya this, Fruit Loop, but yer tag team partnah’s a box.” He laughs, but a little nervously. John Hennigan takes the microphone from him.

“Maybe that’s the trick. Maybe he’s got his Mime in there?” Hennigan shrugs and turns back to Onyx, only to get Pearl Harbored from behind with a dropkick that knocks him into the corner. Before Onyx can respond, Referee Speedy Nelson ushers him out and calls for the bell to start this apparent handicap match.

Lazarus uses an Irish whip to send the still-stunned John Hennigan across into his own corner, far from the tag. There, he springboards off the middle rope and hits a spin kick to the face. Hennigan slumps against the turnbuckles, helpless, as Lazz buries shoulder after shoulder into his midsection. Onyx tries to rally him from the face corner, but it doesn’t appear to be helping.

Lazz lifts Hennigan up on his shoulder like a sack of flour, then muscles him into a seated position on the top turnbuckle. He climbs up, facing the crowd, and disrespectfully grinds his crotch in the face of the young blue chipper. Predictably enough, this makes Onyx irate, but the referee keeps him at bay. Lazarus hops up and uses a crisp frankensteiner to send John Hennigan tumbling head-first to the canvas in a nasty bump.

Lazz taunts Onyx, then suggestively steps into Hennigan, slowly, languidly pulling him up by the hair and into a standing headscissors. He chickenwings one arm, perhaps setting up a pedigree, but can’t get the other hooked. Onyx stomps the mat as his partner straightens… and backdrops out. The rookie stumbles forward, holding the small of his back, reaches out, and dives for the tag.

Onyx comes in, the proverbial Queens bodega aflame. He blitzes Lazz with knife-edge chops, backing him into the ropes. An Irish whip sends Lazz across. He gets caught on the rebound for a sharp, hard powerslam. Onyx hops up and backpedals into the ropes, coming off for a big diving elbow drop across the jaw. He takes a lateral press for 1… 2… 3-NO! Lazz barely kicks out.

Onyx pulls Lazz up by the arm and tries an Irish whip, but Lazz reverses. Lazarus sets for a backdrop, but a step too early, and Onyx hooks him for The Blaqout, his spinning implant DDT. Lazz counters at the last possible second, however, throwing Onyx backward in a bridging northern lights suplex.

The referee slides into position to count the fall, but Onyx is already bridging out. He turns, then pulls the head of Lazarus back, twists, and falls to his knees, locking Lazz in The Jamaica City Dreams, Onyx’s version of the dragon sleeper. Lazz struggles futilely, clawing at the air, his face contorted in pain. His eyes scan about, finding the box at ringside. His arms flail, his fingers pointing, beckoning at the mysterious box he had brought down the ramp.

John Hennigan looks around nervously from his position at the apron. He drops down to the concrete and tentatively approaches the chest. He kicks at it, making it slide on its wheels, but nothing untoward happens. He tries to open it, but finds it locked shut.

Meanwhile, Lazarus appears to be losing consciousness. Referee Speedy Nelson checks the arm once… and it falls. Twice… and it falls again. Thrice… and it droops, but Lazz is still in it. He thrashes wildly, groping, and gets a grip on Speedy’s face… and purposefully pokes him square in the eyes. Speedy Nelson staggers away, dropping to one knee in the corner and rubbing his eyes.

Onyx looks unsure what to do. Down at ringside, his rookie partner shrugs. Suddenly, a fresh referee runs down the ramp and slides into the ring. Lazarus is tapping like mad, so Onyx relinquishes the hold and stands up, arms raised above his head in seeming victory.

His pride falters for a moment, as the replacement referee smiles mischievously. There’s something about the well-muscled man that’s strangely familiar. The ref reaches into his pants pocket and produces a black beret. Sliding it onto his head, he pantomimes an invisible wall, then gives Onyx two middle fingers and a boot to the midsection. Sylvian Grenier gets a grip on the waistband of Onyx’s cargo pants and another hand over his neck, and bundles him out through the ropes to land on the concrete at John Hennigan’s feet.

John Hennigan, shocked and furious, slides into the ring, only to get stomped down by the laughing full-time Frenchman and part-time mime. Grenier lifts him up and fires off his usual wild right hands, backing him into the ropes. A clothesline sends both men tumbling over the top and to the floor. Grenier loses his beret in the process.

Sylvian drags Hennigan by the hair to the box and slams him face-first into the hard wood. He reaches into his other pants pocket and produces a key. Inserting it into a camouflaged hole in the side of the box, he unlocks it and lifts the lid. Sylvian reaches down and scoops Hennigan up, pressing him overhead. The implication should be clear. He’s going to toss Hennigan into the box and lock it.

Onyx makes the save from behind, however, clipping the knee of Sylvian Grenier and forcing him to drop the rookie. In the ring, Referee Speedy Nelson is rousing, as is Lazarus. Grenier hooks Onyx around the waist and hits an atomic drop, then scrambles up onto the apron in his corner to make the tag.

Grenier shrugs out of his faux referee’s shirt and orders Speedy to count his opponents out. The count only gets to seven, however, before Onyx, still the legal man, slides into the ring. Grenier predictably meets him with shaky-foot stomps, but “The Genetic Specimen” fights his way to his own feet.

Onyx blocks a wild right hand and spins, pulling out a smooth standing switch. He tucks his head under Grenier’s arm and folds him up with a hard back suplex. Onyx runs to the far ropes and springboards off in a quebrada that hits the Frenchman flush. He hooks the leg for 1… 2… Sylvian Grenier throws him aside.

John Hennigan calls for the tag, so Onyx stomps over and obliges. Together, they whip Sylvian Grenier into a neutral corner. Hennigan then whips Onyx in for a hard clothesline. Grenier staggers out, and Onyx whips him into a high standing dropkick by John Hennigan. Onyx steps out as Hennigan hooks a leg for 1… 2… Grenier shrugs him off.

Both men get back to their feet. Hennigan tries a boot to the midsection, but Sylvian catches it. Hennigan nails the enzuiguiri, knocking Grenier back into the ropes. The rookie gets up to a crouch and charges, but Grenier ducks low and shoots him over to land on the apron.

Hennigan hits a shoulder block through the ropes and to the ribs of Sylvian Grenier. Hennigan pulls back on the top rope and slingshots himself into a cross body, but fails to knock Grenier down. Sylvian stumbles backward, regains his footing, and shifts Hennigan over his head into a fireman’s carry position. A Death Valley driver plants John Hennigan on the canvas.

Grenier huffs and puffs his way over to tag the refreshed Lazarus. Lazz slingshots himself into the ring and immediately takes a three-point stance, stalking John Hennigan like a tiger. Hennigan struggles up to his feet and Lazarus charges in for The Brittany Spear, but the young blue chipper has enough presence of mind to sidestep and dodge, leaving Lazz to barrel into the face corner where he eats a hard right hand from the object of his misguided affections.

John Hennigan stumbles over and tags in “The Genetic Specimen.” Onyx climbs in and starts exchanging punches with his rival. Onyx starts blocking fists and raining down his own, getting the decided advantage. He drives Lazz down to one knee and measures a big haymaker while Lazz begs off, but Sylvian Grenier climbs in, distracting the referee and making Onyx pause long enough to allow Lazz to hit an uppernut low blow that doubles Onyx over. Referee Speedy Nelson turns just in time to see a DDT drill Onyx.

Grenier drops down off the apron and runs around to the far corner to yank Hennigan off the apron. A hard whip sends Hennigan sprawling into the ringside railing. Lazz distracts the referee while Grenier slides into the ring behind him. He hooks one of Onyx’s legs under each arm while Lazz scales the turnbuckles. With Lazarus perched on the top, Sylvian Grenier falls backward, catapulting Onyx into a diving Brittany Spear from Lazz!

Grenier obeys the referee’s orders to leave the ring, but the damage is already done. Lazz rolls back, hooking a leg. Speedy Nelson slides into position and counts the 1… 2… 3.

Lazarus jerks his hand away from Speedy Nelson and boots Onyx out to the floor under the bottom rope. Sylvian Grenier retrieves him and drags him in the direction of the ominous box. Lazz rolls out to assist, hefting Onyx up by the legs while Sylvian hooks him under the arms. They wind up, ready to do an alley-oop that’ll put Onyx in the box, when John Hennigan comes around the bend wielding a steel chair. Lazarus drops Onyx and ducks just in time to avoid a chairshot which clangs off the box and sends it rolling away.

Onyx recovers and gets his feet under him. He turns and starts pummeling Sylvian Grenier. An Irish whip sends Grenier slamming back first into the side of the box. Hennigan chases Lazz up the ramp, still brandishing that chair, while Onyx takes Sylvian’s hand and slams the heavy box lid down on it. Sylvian Grenier cries out in pain as Onyx holds the lid down on his hand and lays a series of boots into his midsection.

Eventually, Grenier crumples to the concrete and Onyx races up the ramp. He catches up to Hennigan and relieves him of the chair. Lazz scuttles on the ramp, begging off and struggling to make it through the curtain. Onyx won’t hear it, and just brings the chair crashing down on his knee. Lazz clutches it protectively, leaving his back open to a few shots which bend the chair. Onyx throws it down and allows himself to be pulled away by his partner, leaving Lazz in a battered heap.

WINNERS: Cirque de Sade (Lazarus over Onyx after a catapult-assisted diving Brittany Spear) after a bit of elaborate chicanery, but still somewhat cleanly.

I'm going to give this a ** rating because I'm in a generous mood. (O:64. C:53. M:76. Lazarus gained a point of overness from the convoluted victory.)

7. Jon Heidenreich (f) vs. Barry Windham (if Kendall Windham interferes, he’s fired):

The house lights dim and Guns N’Roses’ cover of “Live and Let Die” begins to play as amber spotlights sweep the entrance ramp.

“Introducing… from New Orleans, Louisiana… standing 6 foot 7… weighing in at 300 pounds… he IS Jon Heiiiidenreiiich!”

Heidenreich storms through the curtain, a snarling beast with buzzed blonde hair. He wears red trunks with matching kneepads and boots. Red, padded, fingerless, martial arts-style gloves adorn his hands. He punches his hands together eagerly on his way into the ring. He slides in and shakes the four top ropes Warrior-style, then beats his chest and throws his hands up.

Bon Jovi’s “Wanted: Dead or Alive” begins to play as Heidenreich paces the ring.

“Introducing… from Sweetwater, Texas… former NWA World Champion… Barry Wiiiindham!”

Windham stalks down the aisle, taking off his cowboy hat and duster to hand them to a ringside attendant. He climbs up onto the apron and steps in over the top rope with some effort, trying to emphasize his height. Heidenreich doesn’t back down, though, standing nose-to-nose with the CEO and snarling.

The opening bell does nothing to dissuade the staredown. Heidenreich even leans in, his legs flexing as he manages to back Windham up a bit. Windham brings his hands, clad in fingerless black leather gloves, up and shoves Heidenreich back. Heidenreich lunges back in for a collar-and-elbow tie-up. The two jockey for position, with Heidenreich eventually getting the power advantage and marching Windham into a corner.

Windham puts his hands up and waits for Referee Speedy Nelson to enforce the clean break. Heidenreich snorts, then checks himself, and backs up without incident. Windham leans out between the ropes, requesting some additional space. He slowly ducks back in and paces around the perimeter, killing time.

Barry eventually quits stalling and makes his way back to the center of the ring. He feints for another tie-up, but it’s just a ruse and leaves Heidenreich open for a big cowboy boot to the gut. An Irish whip sends Heidenreich crashing into the turnbuckles. Windham follows close behind with a big corner Lariat, then bulldogs Heidenreich out. He rolls Heidenreich over and takes a lazy lateral press for 1… 2… Heidenreich throws him off.

Windham reaches down to retrieve his opponent, but Heidenreich gets a grip on his wrist and turns it into a hammerlock. He hits a few clubbing forearms to the shoulders and back before standing and throwing Windham bodily into the corner. A couple of stiff knife-edge chops light up the big Texan.

Heidenreich whips him across into the opposite corner. Barry staggers out, holding the small of his back, while Heidenreich takes a three-point stance. Heidenreich charges and knocks Windham to the mat with a big shoulder tackle. He hooks a leg deep for 1… 2… Windham gets his shoulder up.

Heidenreich pulls Windham up by the wrist and fires him off into the ropes. Windham bounces off and gets hooked around the waist for a thunderous spinebuster. Heidenreich hooks the leg deep again for 1… 2… 3-NO! Windham shoots his shoulder up just before the three.

Jon Heidenreich goes back to the arm, perhaps trying to disable it to prevent any future Lariats. He hammerlocks the arm and straddles Windham, trying to keep the CEO down and giving both already blown up mastodons a much needed rest. Windham struggles to one knee, then his feet, only to get scooped and slammed down on his arm. He rolls over, writhing in pain, so Heidenreich goes right back to the hammerlock, and the crowd goes right back to sleep.

Barry battles his way back up again. This time, he twists out and reverses, hitting a few clubbing forearms of his own. He keeps the hammerlock on and hooks Heidenreich around the waist. Windham hits a back suplex on the hammerlocked arm. He covers for 1… 2… Heidenreich kicks out.

Windham pulls him up by the neck and hooks him around the waist. He gutwrenches Heidenreich up for a powerbomb, holding him for 1… 2… 3-NO! Heidenreich kicks out. Windham struggles to work Heidenreich into a spinning toe hold, and the whole thing comes off sloppy and awkward. He lays a weak kick into Heidenreich’s calf by way of improvisation, then remembers how to pull off the obviously intended spot, a figure four leg lock. He steps in, turns, and gets promptly booted away by Heidenreich.

Windham wheels on a bootheel and charges in for The Lariat, but Heidenreich ducks it and catches him around the waist for a big sidewalk slam. Heidenreich bounces off the ropes and nails an elbow drop to the sternum. He pulls Windham up by the hair. Windham hits a forearm to the face… and another… and a third keeps the monster reeling. A fourth knocks him down to one knee, so Windham goes to his daddy’s bag of tricks and locks in an old school claw hold. He wraps his left hand around his right wrist, really trying to grind down Heidenreich. Heidenreich starts to buckle under, then grits his teeth and gets fired up, shaking and trembling up from one knee back to his feet. He wraps one big, gloved hand around Windham’s throat, the claw hold still applied… He actually powers Windham off his feet, albeit barely… for a Chokeslam!

The clawhold broken, Heidenreich falls onto Windham and rolls back, hooking a big leg for 1… 2… 3! The bell rings, and Kendall Windham is already down the ramp with the branding iron. Jon Heidenreich turns around from getting his hand raised just in time to take a branding iron shot to the ribs. Kendall backs up and tattoos the big lug right on the forehead with the cast iron “W”. With Heidenreich laid out, Kendall helps Barry out to the floor.

WINNER: Jon Heidenreich, cleanly.

It was close to a ** match, but one too many blown spots knocks it down to a *1/2 rating. (O:57. C:47. M:67. Barry Windham lost a point of overness from his senior moment, but Jon Heidenreich gained 2 from the big win.)

8. Kendall Windham w/Barry Windham vs. Scottie Wrenn (f) (For The NWA-W Heavyweight Title):

Kendall doesn’t get far, however, before Wildside Heavyweight Champion Scottie Wrenn storms the ring, title belt in hand. Kendall backs off, almost hopping the rail, his brother still nearly helpless in his arms.

“Introducing FIRST… the challenger… weighing in at 260 pounds… from Sweetwater, Texas… Kendall Wiiiiindham!”

Scottie Wrenn tosses the title belt to Referee Speedy Nelson then paces the ring impatiently.

“And, his OPPONENT… The REIGNING… and DEFENDING… NWA Wildside Heavyweight Champion… weighing in at 275 pounds… from Charlotte, North Carolina… The Ticking Time Bomb… Scottie Wrrrrenn!”

Scottie slides out of the ring, ripping the blue bandanna off his head. Kendall dumps his brother and moseys around the bend to roll into the ring, acting like he’s the one doing the waiting now. The champ doesn’t make him wait long, however, and climbs in as the bell rings.

Kendall circles cagily, looking for a tie-up. Scottie just slaps him across the chest with a knife-edge chop. Kendall staggers back, then marches back in for another. A knee lift from Scottie doubles him over. “The Ticking Time Bomb” scoops Kendall up. He holds him for a bit before throwing him overhead in a big fallaway slam.

Scottie pulls Kendall into a standing headscissors and hooks him around the waist. He bellows and tries to lift the challenger for a powerbomb, but Kendall kicks his legs until he gets put back down on the canvas, then he backdrops out. Scottie hits the canvas hard, but is on his feet in a flash and rushing in. Kendall turns and catches him for a powerslam. The big Texan backs into the ropes and comes off with a big leg drop across the throat. He hooks a leg for 1… 2… The champ kicks out strong.

Kendall pulls him up by the neck and hits a few forearms across the back, but Scottie won’t stay down. Instead, he battles back with fists and elbows to the gut, eventually making his way from one knee to his feet. A big kick doubles Kendall over. He pulls the Texan in for a standing headscissors and is able to muscle him up this time for a running powerbomb. He holds Kendall down for 1… 2… Windham kicks out.

Scottie pulls him up in a front facelock. He gets a grip on the waistband of Kendall’s jeans and lifts, drilling him with a niiiice DDT. Kendall sells it like a shot from a taser, and falls stiffly to the canvas. Wrenn takes a flexing lateral press for 1… 2… 3-NO! Kendall rolls his shoulder to stay alive.

The champion pulls Kendall up in a waistlock, wrists locked, shaking him in a bear hug. Referee Speedy Nelson asks Kendall if he wants to give up, but is answered with a resounding “No, dammit!” Windham tries a few right hands to the temple, trying to break the hold. Scottie does, in a matter of speaking, lifting his foe up and planting him with a bellowing belly-to-belly suplex.

Scottie roars and hits a big knee to the side of Kendall’s head. He pulls him up by the arm and sends him into the ropes. He catches Kendall and military presses him overhead, setting up The Scottie Bomb, but Kendall struggles and drops out the back. He jumps up, locking in a sleeper hold.

Scottie thrashes and stumbles, trying to get to the ropes, but Kendall keeps him contained. Eventually, he gets his feet moving and backpedals into the turnbuckles, crushing the challenger. He staggers out and whips Kendall across to the opposite corner. Scottie, visibly groggy, tries to shake off the effects of the hold. He blinks a bit, then charges in and blasts Kendall with a clothesline, knocking him over the top to bounce off the apron and to the floor at his brother’s feet. Scottie drops to his knees in the corner, gasping for breath.

Barry Windham, still battered from his own match, tries desperately to rouse his brother and shove him back into the ring, but Kendall is all dead weight (how ironic). Referee Speedy Nelson makes the count… 7… 8… Kendall slumps against the apron, his brother tugging frantically at his arms… 9… 10. Speedy calls for the bell and passes the belt back to the champion, who struggles back to his feet to shoulder it. The CEO points and mutters on the floor, vowing that things are far from over.

WINNER: Scottie Wrenn, cleanly by countout.

Almost a ** match, but not quite - *1/2 rating. (O:57. C:43. M:71. The NWA Wildside Heavyweight Title has gained 4 points of image.)

Overall Rating: 59 % (+5 %)

Strongest Segment: Predictably, the Diva aerobics. (70%)

Weakest Segment: The Junior Heavyweight Title match that followed, sadly due to crowd apathy. (48%)

Attendance: 338 @ $20 each (+4)

September 29, 2003

Jeremy Lopez requests a de-push. Based on the positions of others, I grant it.

October 1, 2003

Kid Kool is back from his ankle injury and cleared to wrestle. Yay!

I renew Barry Windham’s contract for another 6 months. He IS the CEO after all.

Mike Pittman turned 24, losing 2 points of Brawl.

Scott Cage turned 23, losing 3 points of Brawl, 2 points of Speed, and 1 point of Technical.

Smokey Carmichaels turned 24, gaining a point of Brawl, but losing 3 points of Speed and 2 points of Technical.

Grrr! I HATE birthdays!

Finance complains about 3 months of losing money, but we made a nice $158K profit in August and only lost $74K in September. Dumbasses.

Feedback, criticism, ideas, and verbal attacks are all welcome and encouraged. Thanks for reading, and we’ll see ya soon!

Have fun,

TheRay

EDIT - fixed some minor spelling mistakes

All NEW... All HYPE (well, with a new match)... All GOOD (I hope, you tell me)...

September 28, 2003

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

NWA Wildside TV #13

NWA Wildside TV is taped LIVE at The NWA Arena in Cornelia, Georgia.

“It’s not about… who made who… It’s about who can entertain YOU. Don’t believe the hype… Believe your eyes and ears, because the West Texas Rednecks face Double Indemnity in NWA Wiiiiildside tonight!”

Thank goodness for the new Motley Crue digital remasters, because "Wildside" by arguably the greatest hair band ever is our official theme. Dan “the Dragon” Wilson joins us in the studio with broadcast colleague, Steven Prazak, for this special Double Indemnity hype edition of Wildside TV.

“They’ve done everything in their power to drive Scottie Wrenn and his allies OUT of NWA Wildside, but someone has stepped out of the shadows, out of the worlds of football and martial arts to stand by our Wildside Heavyweight Champion. The West Texas Rednecks certainly couldn’t have foreseen this turn of events.”

“Steve, you are, of course, referring to Jon Heidenreich, a true Atlanta icon who’s come home with a chip on his shoulder and a fire in his belly. Heidenreich’s going to get his hands on our illustrious CEO Barry Windham tonight, but we’ll get to that later. First on the docket tonight, in our coverage of the road to Double Indemnity, is a match that isn’t even sanctioned by the NWA.”

“Because, Dan, The REAL Slim J isn’t even employed by Wildside anymore!”

“No, he got the ol’ pink slip from our former CEO-turned errand boy, Jeff G. Bailey, last month at our fifth anniversary show... Rrrroll the clip.”

August 31, 2003: Jeremy V (f) vs. Slim J

Referee Andrew Thomas raises Jeremy’s hand in victory, and he immediately heads to the corner to give the crowd yet another double V salute. Slim J ambles to his feet and charges, hitting Jeremy with a forearm across the back. He ducks into the corner and powerbombs Jeremy out with authority. Thomas tries to intervene, but Slim just shoves him aside and climbs out to the apron and up to the top. The 420 Splash connects, and Slim is on his feet to intercept the house mic before Dan “the Dragon” Wilson can announce Jeremy V as the winner.

“Awwww HELL no! I ain’t gonna go…

Out like THAT… shoulders to the MAT…

It’s an INJUSTICE… You can’t TRUST this…

Ridiculous decision…

(Slim rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger and blinks theatrically)

The ref’s got TUNNEL vision…

Can’t deny me… Tryin’ ta get by me…

White messiah of hip-hop…

Bitches always lookin’ ta CRUCIFY me.

(TAP… TAP… Slim drives an imaginary nail with the mic against his hand)

BUUUUUUUHHHHHHHSTERRRRRRR!”

Suddenly, we get some very audible and very insincere clapping from the ramp. Out walks everyone’s favorite legislator, Jeff G. Bailey. He gives Slim J a condescending sneer.

“Slim… Slim… Slim. That was… touching. Your rhymes are TRULY off the hizzle fo’ shizzle. Heh-heh. Look, Kid. You’ve got a lot of talent. Anyone can see that. That’s why I bring an important message from our ILLUSTRIOUS Chief Executive Officer. You see, no one in the office would want to stand in the way of your dreams, and CLEARLY, based on your performance tonight, you’ve got a long career ahead of you.”

Slim J beams with pride. “Yeah, you right, Dog. True that.”

“UNFORTUNATELY… that career ISN’T as an NWA Wildside superstar. Your rap career beckons, Slim. Your wrestling commitments need not stand in your way any longer.”

Slim climbs out of the ring and starts to head up the ramp, microphone still in hand. “What you talkin’ ‘bout, Bailey?!”

“Slim… YOU’RE FIRED!” Slim J drops the mic and grabs Jeff G. Bailey by the lapels of his ill-fitting suit. “Hey! Unhand me! I’m just the messenger.”

Seeing security at the ready, Slim lets Bailey go, shaking his head as he is shown out. The fans are largely indifferent, but there’s a spotty “Na-na-na-NA… Na-na-na-NA… Hey, hey, hey… Good bye” chant. Jeff G. Bailey tosses the house mic back into the ring and heads out, grinning like the proverbial cat that ate the canary.

Gangster No. 1 with Malcolm McDowell, Paul Bettany, and David Thewlis. Underrated British mob flick.

Ronin and Spartan. The former stars Robert DeNiro, Sean Bean, and others while the latter has Val Kilmer as a kick-ass Secret Service agent. Both are about covert ops and are both smart and tense, a rare combo in these days of dull explosions and lame, hackneyed dialogue.

That's all I got off the top of my head.

Hope that helps,

TheRay

Here's the last prepackaged show. All new material afterwards. Woot!

September 21, 2003

NWA:TNA has bounced BACK to Global. They sign Bret Hart and “steal” Marcus “Buff” Bagwell from WWA. Lucky them…

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

NWA Wildside TV #12

NWA Wildside TV is taped LIVE at The NWA Arena in Cornelia, Georgia.

“I guarantee that I will never embarrass myself or my promotion by competing in our ring. While other feds expect you to pay to see announcers fight, we leave the wrestling to the wrestlers, and you’re about to see some of the best this sport has to offer. THIS is NWA Wiiiildside!”

Thank goodness for the new Motley Crue digital remasters, because "Wildside" by arguably the greatest hair band ever is our official theme.

1. A Royal Return:

We open with Alicia Webb standing in the ring, elegant as always in a champagne minidress and strappy heels. She holds a microphone, receives her cue, then issues a “Welcome to NWA Wildside! Tonight, in our main event, Jeremy Lopez challenges Scottie Wrenn for the NWA Wildside Heavyweight Title. I’d like to welcome back a man who’s obviously going to have something to say about this. Royally bred… of royal blood… The Royal Stud… Adam Windsor!”

“Pomp and Circumstance” begins to play, and Cornelia actually gives Windsor a pleasant response. He sports fashionable street clothes, his forehead is bandaged, but he still manages a smile for Alicia as he climbs into the ring and steps up alongside her. He gently takes her hand and kisses her wrist while genuflecting.

“Alicia, my dear. A pleasure, as always. I’ll tell you what was most certainly NOT a pleasure, however. Having my own royal blood… SPRAYING out of my forehead… staining THIS canvas. And WHY? Because I steadfastly REFUSE to allow Jeremy Lopez… that pathetic piece of paltry rubbish… to CHEAT his way to the NWA Wildside Heavyweight Title. Time and again he has stolen victory after victory after victory… by all manner of devious deeds. It has GOT to stop, my dear. Perhaps… TONIGHT. Good evening, milady.”

Windsor bows and departs, leaving Alicia to lick her lips and throw it to the announce team. Steven Prazak tells us that in addition to the title match, “We’ve got a superstar line-up tonight. Double Indemnity is just ONE WEEK away, and we’re rolling into it full speed. Former Atlanta Falcon Jon Heidenreich will face Kendall Windham in singles action later in the show, and Onyx will finally get his chance at revenge against Lazarus. That match is NEXT right after a few words from our beloved sponsors…”

(Interview: 81. Alicia Webb gained a point of overness from her face time.)

2. Onyx (f) vs. Lazarus :

“Slam” by Onyx begins to play, and “The Genetic Specimen” himself steps through the curtain.

"Introducing FIRST… from Jamaica, Queens in The Big Apple… weighing in at 217 pounds… The Geeeenetic Specimen… Onyx!"

Steven Prazak reminds us that this has been brewing for quite some time now. “Hopefully, Onyx will put an end to this harassment, once and for all.”

Onyx rips off his black bandanna and tosses it to the apathetic crowd before rolling into the ring. He paces the ring, impatiently waiting for his nemesis. Suddenly, we shift musical gears as Justin Timberlake’s “Cry Me A River” begins to play.

“From Kentwood, Louisiana… weighing in at 183 pounds… THIS… is… Laaaazarus!”

Lazarus steps out in his usual attire of black lace bra, pleated skirt, knee socks, and toe shoes. His face is still painted white with blue tears on his cheeks, his blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. He pauses at the top of the ramp, folding his arms across his chest and scowling.

Onyx makes the universal “Bring it!” gesture, but Lazz just continues to make sour faces, seemingly reluctant to hook up with the object of his affections. Onyx decides to take the fight to Lazz, then, and despite warnings from Referee Andrew Thomas, he slides out to stomp up the ramp.

Lazz unfolds his arms and meets his foe halfway, and the two trade punches on their way to the ring. Onyx whips Lazz hard into the ringside railing, making the front row a foot or so closer to the action. A few knife-edge chops stun the freak. Onyx pulls him into a front facelock… Blaq Out! Onyx hits his Spinning Implant DDT on the concrete!

Andrew Thomas is out to check on Lazarus and demands that Onyx take it into the ring. He obliges, rolling Lazz in under the bottom rope, and we can see that the unorthodox competitor is already busted open. Onyx climbs up onto the apron and pulls back on the top rope. A slingshot somersault leg drop connects. The referee quickly counts the 1… 2… NO! Onyx pulls Lazz up by the hair and shakes his head.

Onyx pulls Lazarus up by the arm and looks to whip him into the ropes, but Lazz reverses into a high hip toss. “The Genetic Specimen” rolls through and to his feet, only to get BLASTED with a STIFF~! high kick straight outta Japan. Wow.

Lazarus wipes the blood from his brow, making a mess by smearing it with the facepaint. He looks at it for a moment in wonder, then pulls Onyx up by the neck and slaps him hard across the face with it. He hits a few elbows to the back of the head then marches over to the turnbuckles. He pulls himself up onto the second rope and comes off with a flying axe handle to knock Onyx flat. Lazz rolls him over for 1… 2… Onyx kicks out strong.

Lazz grabs Onyx under his calves and drags him over into position for a catapult that slams his head against the top turnbuckle. Lazarus then pulls himself up into a seated position on that top turnbuckle, standing on the second rope. He folds his hands across his chest in a defiant posture and falls forward without flinching, hitting Onyx below the belt with a head butt. Lazz ignores the admonishments of Referee Andrew Thomas and instead hooks both legs deep for 1… 2… 2¾!

Lazz hops back up onto the second rope and hits a basement dropkick to the face, sending Onyx skidding across the mat. He grabs Onyx by the neck and hefts him into a fireman’s carry position. He walks over to the corner, perhaps setting up a running DVD, but Onyx flips out and lands on his feet holding Lazz’s wrist. He runs up the corner, bounces off the top, and takes Lazz over in a springboard rana, holding the leg for 1… 2… Lazz springs free.

Lazarus is sporting quite the crimson mask by now, and staggers right into a military press from the muscular Onyx. He walks him over to the corner, pressed high overhead, and drops him in a snake eyes into the top turnbuckle. Lazz bounces off and right into The Blaq Out! That looked brutal. Onyx rolls him over and takes a lateral press for 1… 2… 2¾! Somehow Lazarus got his shoulder up. Unreal.

Onyx pulls Lazz up by the ponytail, blood streaming down his cheeks as he hangs limply. He pulls him into a front facelock. Another DDT drills Lazarus. Onyx goes for the cover, but Lazz reaches out and grabs hold of the bottom rope, trying to pull himself away. Onyx grabs him by the ankles, pulling back to keep him in the ring. Referee Andrew Thomas tries to enforce a clean break, but Onyx just shoves him aside. He runs to the far ropes and comes off with a baseball slide dropkick that sends Lazarus spinning out to the concrete.

Onyx rolls out to pursue. He holds Lazz up by the hair and measures a driving right hand, but Lazz ducks and sidesteps. Superkick knocks Onyx into the steel barricade. Lazz scrambles up onto the apron, using the ropes for support. He measures Onyx and leaps into a back heel kick that knocks Onyx into the front row!

Lazz struggles to pull Onyx free of the Cornelians and rolls him back into the ring. He then drops to one knee, gasping for breath and wiping his bloody face on his forearm. Referee Andrew Thomas leans over the top rope to check on him, then begins counting him out.

Suddenly, a mysterious figure comes racing down the ramp. In white facepaint with a black beret and singlet over top of a white striped shirt, he looks like some kind of Mime. He picks Onyx up in an inverted facelock and hefts him onto his shoulder for a Running Powerslam! Thomas turns, having heard the impact, but the Mime is already hiding down at the foot of the ramp. Lazarus pulls himself into the ring and stumbles over, dropping to drape his arm over Onyx for 1… 2… 3.

Lazz gets his hand raised in victory, and the Mime comes in to hold him up, hug him, and kiss him on both cheeks. They both march over to where Onyx lies and begin stomping the guts out of him, ignoring the cacophony of bell-ringing.

John Hennigan sprints down the aisle, failing to get a pop. He unloads on both men, firing off punches until he knocks Lazz out over the top rope with a straight right hand. The Mime spins him around and lifts him up for a spinebuster, but Onyx clips his knee, helping turn it into a makeshift Thesz press. Hennigan just pummels the Mime, finally picking him up and knocking him out of the ring with a running clothesline. The young rookie helps Onyx up as the two facepainted freaks back up the ramp, vowing revenge.

WINNER: Lazarus, by undetected interference from some crazy Mime.

I’ll give it a **½ star rating. (O:70. C:56. M:84. Lazarus gained a point of overness from his 0.7 Muta.)

3. BUUUUUUUHHHHHHHSTEDDDDDDD!:

After the break, we find ourselves backstage with the lovely Alicia Webb and a rather worse for wear Jeremy V. Jeremy is dressed in street clothes, flannel button shirt with cut-off sleeves and ripped jeans, his hair pulled back from his forehead where a fat bandage is taped.

“Slim J!… The REAL Slim J!… Do you SEE what you’ve done?! Do you UNDERSTAND what you’ve gotten yourself into?! You blame me for your ejection from NWA Wildside?! Sure, I won the match… but YOU lost it. You lost it when you took me lightly. You lost it when you underestimated The V-Man.” Jeremy throws his hands up in the double V salute while Alicia holds the microphone.

“You made a big mistake… Buster. You made this personal. You want a match with me? Fine. All you had to do was ask. But you want to ambush me… split my head open… spill my blood? Big mistake. Big BIG mistake. You see, this little melon of mine is full of darkness… full of bitterness… full of flat out NASTINESS. Most of the time I keep it bottled up inside. Like you, I find expression through music… through dance… through art… and SOMETIMES… through my performances in this ring, but I keep a tight lid on it, because like Pandora’s proverbial Box… once you open this can of tortured whoop-ass… it’s not so easy to stuff the snakes back in. You and me, Slim… next week… Double Indemnity... I’m going to let ALL my demons out.”

Alicia looks a bit frightened as she watches Jeremy stalk off. “Wow. Back to you, Dan!”

(Interview: 80. Alicia Webb and Jeremy V each gained a point of overness from this accomplished promo.)

4. Jon Heidenreich (f) vs. Kendall Windham w/Barry Windham :

Guns N’Roses’ cover of “Live and Let Die” begins to play as the house lights dim, Dan “the Dragon” Wilson stands at the ready in the ring for introductions, and spotlights sweep the entrance ramp. When the chorus kicks the song into high gear, Heidenreich explodes through the curtain and sprints down the ramp, sliding into the ring and shaking the four top ropes Warrior-style.

“Introducing… from New Orleans, Louisiana… standing 6 foot 7… weighing in at 300 pounds… he IS Jon Heiiiidenreiiich!”

Heidenreich beats his chest, throws his hands up, and roars. Crickets. I think I hear crickets.

“And his OPPONENT… weighing in at 260 pounds… accompanied by Wildside CEO and co-holder of the NWA Wildside Tag Team Titles with his brother and West Texas Rednecks partner, Barry Windham,… from Sweetwater, Texas… Kendall Wiiiiindham!”

The West Texas Rednecks strut to the ring, holding their tag belts on their shoulders. Barry slaps his brother on the shoulder while spouting inaudible rhetoric in the direction of the ring. Kendall finally shrugs off the belt and climbs up onto the apron to step over the top rope. He walks up to Heidenreich, and the two stand nose to nose for a bit until Referee Speedy Nelson calls for the bell.

Kendall begins with a wild right hand, easily dodged by Jon, who spins Kendall around. He scoops Windham up, almost effortlessly, and slams him to the mat with a roar. Kendall sits bolt upright in pain, getting grabbed by the scruff of the neck and pulled into a standing headscissors for his trouble.

Barry Windham looks around in shock as Heidenreich draws his thumb across his throat. He gutwrenches Kendall up onto his shoulders and hits a sit-out powerbomb, holding Kendall down for 1… 2… Kendall rolls backward and to his feet.

Heidenreich snares the wrist of Kendall Windham and pulls him in for a short-arm clothesline, but Kendall manages to duck it and reverse, pulling Heidenreich in for a spinebuster. He gets up to one knee, straddling Heidenreich, and fires off rights and lefts, battering the head of the big man. Heidenreich displays more of his monstrous power, shoving Kendall off of him and getting back to his feet.

Kendall steps in for a hard Irish whip that slams Jon Heidenreich back-first into the turnbuckles. He staggers out into the waiting arms of Kendall Windham, who shows considerable strength of his own by throwing the big man overhead in a fallaway slam. He bounces off the ropes and comes down in a theatrical driving elbow, bracing it across Heidenreich’s jaw for 1… 2… Heidenreich throws him off.

Kendall backs into the corner, cocking his arm, slapping the inside of his elbow pad, and measuring his foe. Heidenreich gets to unsteady legs as Kendall charges… MASSIVE Lariat turns Heidenreich inside-out. Kendall kicks at Heidenreich condescendingly and takes the cocky one boot on the chest cover for 1… 2… 3-NO! Heidenreich rolls his shoulder. Neither Windham can believe it.

Kendall shakes off his shock and picks Heidenreich up. A body slam plants him on the canvas. Kendall slides up his elbow pad, then backs into the ropes, measuring a bare elbow drop, but Heidenreich catches him halfway down with a right hand to the gut. Heidenreich gets to one knee and fires off another right. A few boots to the midsection keep Kendall doubled over. Jon Heidenreich pulls him into another standing headcissors and hefts him up for another BIIIIG powerbomb! He hooks both legs deep for 1… 2… Barry Windham pulls Referee Speedy Nelson out to the floor, earning massive jeers.

Barry insists Kendall’s foot was on the ropes, but Speedy gives the two finger “I didn’t see it with my own eyes” gesture. Jon Heidenreich rolls out to the floor, visibly and justifiably angry. Speedy immediately interjects himself between the CEO and the monster.

Kendall Windham uses the ropes to pull himself up and leans on them, closely watching the situation at ringside. Jon Heidenreich climbs back into the ring, making the mistake of pointing down to threaten Barry Windham. Kendall comes bouncing off the ropes, his arm cocked for The Lariat, but Heidenreich sees him coming and sidesteps, catching Kendall off the near ropes into a fireman’s carry. Death Valley driver! Kendall Windham is laid out. Speedy breaks free of his argument with the CEO to slide into the ring as Heidenreich grabs hold of the kneepad and pulls a leg back for 1… 2… 2¾! Kendall Windham got his shoulder up, but barely.

The crowd begins booing vehemently, and a “You suck! You suck! You suck!” chant gets some momentum. Jon Heidenreich pulls Kendall up by the arm and whips him to the ropes. A BIIIIG backdrop is executed well, giving Kendall plenty of hang time.

He comes up holding his back and crying out in pain, but Heidenreich keeps pressing the offensive. He pulls Kendall back and hits him with a head butt. He rears back, measuring another head butt, but Kendall retaliates with a knee lift that doubles him over. He hooks Heidenreich in a front facelock and turns, dropping into an exhausted neckbreaker.

Kendall gasps and wheezes for breath as he pulls Heidenreich up by the arm. An Irish whip slams Jon Heidenreich into the turnbuckles, Kendall in hot pursuit. He hits a back elbow to bury Heidenreich in the corner, then bulldogs him out. He fixes his elbow pad and cocks his arm as Heidenreich stumbles up to his feet. Lariat! Kendall drops, draping his arm across Heidenreich’s massive frame for 1… 2… 3.

CEO Barry Windham climbs into the ring to immediately raise the arm of his brother. He hands him his tag team title belt, then turns and PASTES Heidenreich across the face with his own. He props Heidenreich up against the ropes and just peppers him with gloved right hands until blood trickles down the big man’s brow. He then rips the microphone away from Dan “the Dragon” Wilson.

“THIS is what happens to the big heroes in this world! You want to ride to the rescue, huh, Heidenreich?! Well, this is what you get. Where’s your buddy Scottie Wrenn?! Where’s the big bad Heavyweight Champion?!”

Trash starts littering the ring, and Barry absentmindedly kicks it out with his cowboy boots. Suddenly, “Wildside” by Motley Crue begins to play, and the owner of NWA Wildside, Bill Behrens steps out onto the ramp with a microphone.

“Barry! You know DAMN well where Scottie Wrenn is! He’s in the back preparing for his Wildside Heavyweight Title defense tonight… a Heavyweight Title defense you’re trying to RUIN. But I’m not going to allow that to happen. Believe you me, Scottie wants nothing more than to rip you and your brother limb from limb right now, but I’ve assured him that Jon will be attended to and that this madness’ll stop right now. I may not be able to strip you of the title of CEO, Barry, but so long as you want to include yourself on the active roster, I CAN make you compete. And that’s what you’re going to do next week at Double Indemnity when you take on the man you just victimized… Jon Heidenreich!!”

Behrens fishes for a pop, but it ain’t happening. “You saw the trouble your little brother had tonight, so you’re going to have your hands full next week, son, because I think you’ve just pissed him off! Oh… and if your little brother so much as shows his face during that match… I WILL fire his ass on the spot!”

Barry Windham protests, insisting “You can’t do that!”

“Oh yes I can, Barry… and I WILL. Just try me. Now security will escort the two of you out of the building and make sure you stay there. I don’t want you even WATCHING the main event. Gentlemen…”

Security swarms the ring, and while the Windhams generally tower over these guys, Kendall looks in no condition to engage in a brawl against superior numbers. Barry grumbles and takes his tag belt, shrugging away security guards like a petulant child. Behrens tries to get a “Na-na-na-NA… Na-na-na-NA… Hey-hey-hey… Good bye!” chant started, but nobody’s biting. Poor guy.

WINNER: Kendall Windham, cleanly.

Bland match, but I'll give it a * rating for not being too bad. (O:55. C:38. M:73. Jon Heidenreich and Kendall Windham each gained 3 points of overness from giving it their all and staying on track in the face of fan apathy.)

5. The Original XTC wants some R-E-S-P-E-C-T:

When we come back, Dan “the Dragon” Wilson is in the ring with his cue cards, presumably to introduce the main event. A familiar techno beat begins to play, and Dan is as surprised as anyone to see Jimmy Rave limping to the ring. He climbs through the ropes with some difficulty and politely asks for the house mic.

“Yo! What up Cornelia?!” Ugh. No response. “Jimmy Rave is in the house with a very special message for Smokey Carmichaels. You cut a little public service announcement last week on how you’re tired of being taken lightly. Well, that was really one to grow on, Smokey, but as I recall, it was YOU who called me a walking workout. Yeah, I walked all right, and worked hard to walk away with the win… a win over your angry, bitter ass. You go ahead and you cry about it all you want. You can blame it on The Man… You can blame it on the rain in Spain for all I care, but you learn to live with it because…”

Smokey Carmichaels comes running down the ramp, causing Rave to drop the microphone and meet him in the center of the ring for a flurry of fisticuffs. They brawl back and forth, Smokey eventually getting the upper hand and driving Rave to the ropes. He backs up and charges in for a clothesline, but Rave drops down and backdrops him out over the top rope as he did in their initial encounter.

Smokey composes himself on the floor, but Rave pulls back on the top rope and slingshots himself into a plancha that knocks them both down. Rave starts getting the advantage now, unloading right after right as they brawl all the way to the back.

(Call Out And Brawl: 57. Jimmy Rave and Smokey Carmichaels each gained 2 points of overness from their unappreciated intensity.)

6. Jeremy Lopez vs. Scottie Wrenn (f) (For The NWA-W Heavyweight Title):

After everything calms down , Dan begins his introductions.

“Ladies and gentlemen… THIS is your main event of the evening… Introducing FIRST, the challenger… from Tampa, Florida… weighing in at 187 pounds… Jeremy Loooopez!”

Jeremy Lopez struts out, pulling his red kanji shirt up over his head and disrespectfully tossing it into the face of a fan. He stretches and grins mischievously as he casually strolls to the ring. He climbs up onto the apron, leans back against the ropes, and agilely flips into the ring.

“And, his OPPONENT… The REIGNING… and DEFENDING… NWA Wildside Heavyweight Champion… weighing in at 275 pounds… from Charlotte, North Carolina… The Ticking Time Bomb… Scottie Wrrrrenn!”

Scottie charges out to the ring, ripping the blue bandanna off his head and dropping the title belt without missing a beat. He slides into the ring, but Lopez slides out to the floor, wagging his finger and shaking his head. He struts over to the announce position and takes the headset away from Dan “the Dragon” Wilson before he can put it on.

“What is this guy’s problem, Prozac? Maybe that’s what he needs, is some Prozac. The guy’s angry at everyone and everything, but he’s our Heavyweight Champion. I think he should be a little thankful, don’t you? Wait, no one cares what you think, Steve, and I KNOW they’re tired of your whining, Wilson. I’m doing the wrestling community a favor right now, keeping you two from running your mouths. You see…”

The headset clatters onto the table as Scottie Wrenn knocks it off the head of Jeremy Lopez. Lopez retaliates with a WICKED knife-edge chop that gets picked up on the headsets. He hits a few more of these to back the champ to the apron, then looks to roll the big man in, but he can’t get Wrenn up and comes away holding his back.

“THAT’S the disadvantage of a lightweight challenging for the Heavyweight Title,” explains Steven Prazak.

Wrenn scoops Lopez up instead, with negligible effort. He ignores protests from Referee Speedy Nelson, who is trying to get him to take it into the ring. Scottie instead runs Jer-Lo shoulder-first into the ring post. Scottie moves in and sidesteps as Lopez comes out with a surprise roaring elbow, and Speedy gets BLASTED.

Scottie slides Lopez into the ring and pursues. He hits a few blistering forearms across the back and pulls Lopez in for a big release powerbomb. He covers, but Speedy isn’t coming in to count any time soon. Scottie gets up and heads over to the ropes to call down to the fallen ref. This gives Lopez the opening to crawl over and hit a low blow.

Wrenn folds up and a follow up roaring elbow threatens to send him out over the top rope, but he holds on, pulling himself up onto the apron. Jer-Lo hooks him up in a front facelock and bounces him on the top rope. A slingshot suplex brings him into the ring the hard way, and NOW Speedy lives up to his name, sliding in to count the lateral press. 1… 2… The champ tosses the lightweight aside.

Lopez hits a STIFF~! kick to the face to bring Wrenn up to all fours, then hooks his arm to roll into a majistral cradle for 1… 2… 3-NO! Wrenn kicks out strong.

Jeremy pulls Wrenn up in a front facelock. He hooks both arms, looking for his Elevated DDT finisher, but Scottie simply shoves him away and into the ropes. He catches Jeremy staggering on the rebound and presses him high overhead for a military press slam. “The Ticking Time Bomb” hooks the challenger’s leg deep for 1… 2… 2¾! Lopez gets praised for his ring presence as he shoots a toe out to hook the bottom rope and break the pin.

Scottie pulls Jeremy up by the wrist and starts twisting it violently, gritting his teeth and flexing his massive arms. Jeremy fishes into his tights with his free hand, coming up with his trusty brass knuckles. He turns into the hold, keeping the big champion between him and the referee, and allowing him to pepper the top of Wrenn’s head with the knucks. He tosses them aside unseen and takes a front facelock. He hooks both arms to set up The Elevated DDT… but Adam Windsor races down the ramp!

Jer-Lo releases the facelock and takes a wild swing at him. Windsor ducks and spins Lopez around… Kryptonite Krunch! Speedy calls for the bell, giving Lopez the win via disqualification but not the title. Lopez rolls out to the floor and bails, cursing his enemy.

Adam is busy explaining the situation to the referee and scanning ringside for the discarded brass knucks. Meanwhile, Scottie Wrenn is slowly getting to his feet. Dan “the Dragon” Wilson calls the ruling.

“The winner of the match… as a result of a DISQUALIFICATION… Jeremy Loooopez!”

Scottie wrenches at his own head in anger and frustration. “The Dragon” takes the cue and scrams, not wanting any part of the enraged champion. The youthful Adam Windsor is not so wise, and is shocked when Wrenn tosses Speedy Nelson aside and snatches him by the throat. Scottie lifts Adam up and lays him out with his Psycho Slam!

“When that man gets THAT angry, it’s best to just get as far away as humanly possible,” says Dan “the Dragon” Wilson from his announce position. “He’s walking away with his title, but a loss in the record books thanks to Adam Windsor, and that may have done the OPPOSITE of what he hoped to accomplish as Lopez CONTINUES his winning ways, picking up a victory… albeit a tainted one… over our Heavyweight Champion. Join us next week LIVE right here at the NWA Arena in Cornelia, Georgia for Double Indemnity or, if you can’t make it to the arena, here on Wildside TV for our preview show. For Steven Prazak and the rest of NWA Wildside, good night!”

WINNER: Jeremy Lopez, via disqualification from Adam Windsor interference. Scottie Wrenn retains.

Almost a ** match, but not quite - *½ rating. (O:58. C:42. M:75. The NWA-W Heavyweight title has gained 4 points of image. Jeremy Lopez lost a point of overness in this hollow victory. Scottie Wrenn gained 2 points of overness for his ruthlessness.)

Overall Rating: 65 % (+11 %)

TV Rating: 0.34

Strongest Segment: Any time Alicia Webb was on screen. (80-81%. Alicia = ratings!)

Weakest Segment: Kendall Windham and Jon Heidenreich in a spirited but largely ignored brawl. (55%)

Attendance: 157 @ $20 each (+4)

Feedback, criticism, ideas, and verbal attacks are all welcome and encouraged. Thanks for reading, and we’ll see ya soon!

Have fun,

TheRay

Thanks for the feedback, Hajjhowe. Pointless? Hardly. There's actually just one more "canned" show after this one, and then it's all new material! Oh, and in a somewhat controversial move, Iceberg got the axe right quick. Don't expect to see him back any time soon. :thumbsup:

Without further ado, then...

September 14, 2003

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

NWA Wildside TV #11

NWA Wildside TV is taped LIVE at The NWA Arena in Cornelia, Georgia.

“We’re the home of the best and the brightest, the bold and the beautiful, the biggest and the baddest… THIS is NWA Wiiiildside!”

Thank goodness for the new Motley Crue digital remasters, because "Wildside" by arguably the greatest hair band ever is our official theme.

1. "Age Before Beauty":

After our opening credits, we find ourselves outside the office of CEO Barry Windham. The door is closed, with a small Texas flag over a nameplate that reads “OFFICE OF THE CEO” and a sign saying “TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT ON SIGHT.”

Kendall Windham steps into frame, a clipboard tucked under his arm. The pen slides out and falls to the floor. Kendall turns to bend down and pick it up, practically knocking over Jeff G. Bailey. Kendall pulls Bailey up effortlessly by the lapels and theatrically dusts him off.

“Sorry ‘bout that, J.G. Didn’t see ya there.”

Bailey hands the gold pen to Kendall and furrows his brow. “What’s going on? I understand there’s somebody new on the roster?”

“Yeah, but don’t you fret none. He won’t be in need of your… MANAGERIAL services, J.G. Hell, only thing he’ll be in need of at the end of tonight is some emergency MEDICAL services. You follow?”

“Um, I guess. So the OTHER Mister Windham has signed Jon Heidenreich? Are you sure that’s wise?”

“Hell, Son. We’re The West Texas Rednecks. We’ve got over a half century of experience a’tween us. We could be two of the three wise men, for Chr… Well, let me just say this. You want to bring the frankencense this holiday season, you get behind God and Texas. The Wildside Tag Team Titles are on the line tonight, and we’re taking the gold back home with us. Heidenreich and Scottie Wrenn will have their paychecks forwarded to their hospital rooms. I guaran-damn-tee it!”

Bailey opens the office door and motions for Kendall to enter. “Age before beauty.” Kendall smiles and then steps into the office, Bailey following and closing the door behind them.

(Interview: 50. Jeff G. Bailey gained a point of overness from his amusement.)

2. Todd Sexton vs. Jeremy V (f):

We cut to the ring, where “The Dragon,” Dan Wilson, is ready with introductions for our first match.

“Introducing FIRST… already in the ring… from San Antonio, Texas… weighing in at 214 pounds… Toooodd Sexton!”

Sexton leans against the ropes, tugging on his elbow pad. He wears a black stocking cap, black, three-quarter length trunks with white “TNT” logos on the legs, knee pads, and boots. He rips off the stocking cap and drops it onto the floor, tousling his short blonde hair and stroking his trim goatee with a sneer.

“And his OPPONENT…”

“Jeremy” by Pearl Jam begins to play, and out comes Jeremy V.

“On his way to the ring… from Myrtle Beach, South Carolina… weighing in at 201 pounds… Jeeeeremy V!”

Jeremy comes down the ramp slowly, his head hung down, his long blonde hair obscuring his face. He throws his head back and tosses his hands up in his trademark double V salute. His wrists are wrapped with red tape and black pads protect his elbows to match his red and black tights adorned with a bold white “V”. Black boots round out the ensemble.

He slides into the ring and immediately heads for the turnbuckles. He closes his eyes as he tilts his head back and gives the crowd another double V salute. Nobody returns the favor.

Wilson joins Prazak at ringside for commentary, and we get a collar-and-elbow tie-up to start things off. Sexton, with a very slight weight advantage, takes Jeremy to the ropes and tries an Irish whip across. Jeremy keeps hold of the arm instead, and drops onto his back, burying both boots into Todd’s ribs for a monkey flip. Sexton lands on his feet and rushes in, but Jeremy stands from a crouch and launches Sexton over the top rope. Sexton catches hold of the top rope and quickly scrambles up onto the apron, only to get knocked to the floor with a standing dropkick from Jeremy V.

Jeremy climbs out onto the apron and runs down, leaping into a flying axehandle that sends both men sprawling into the barricade. Jeremy hops up onto said barricade and steadies himself. A dropkick catches Sexton right in the mush. Referee Andrew Thomas demands both men take it back in the ring. Jeremy nods his assent and pulls Sexton by the neck up onto the apron.

Jeremy V looks to toss Sexton back into the ring, but Sexton uses the ropes to steady himself and reverses into a high hip toss. Jeremy lands on his feet, but Sexton slingshots himself up for a springboard front dropkick that’s right on the money. He backs into the ropes for momentum and hits a running senton, leaning back to hook the leg for 1… 2… Jeremy gets his shoulder up.

Sexton pulls him up in a rear waistlock, tucking his head under that shoulder. He lifts for a back suplex, but Jeremy flips out the back and lands on his feet, leaping for a big bulldog. As Todd crawls up to a crouch, shaking the cobwebs out, Jeremy hits a side rolling cradle to get 1… 2… Sexton kicks out strong.

Todd Sexton grabs Jeremy by the wrist and sends him into the corner, but Jeremy hops up onto the second turnbuckles. Sexton charges in and eats a back heel kick that knocks him back staggering. Jeremy hops back to the second turnbuckles, then leaps for a sunset flip rollover that puts Sexton’s shoulders down for 1… 2… 3-NO! Sexton rolls through and hits a STIFF smashmouth basement dropkick to the face.

The camera focuses on a fan applauding in the front row. “It’s Slim J! What’s he doing here?!” cries Steven Prazak. As if to explain, Slim holds up his ticket stub and hits a crotch chop in the direction of the camera.

Sexton pulls Jeremy up by the arm and sends him into the turnbuckles once again. THIS time, Todd follows close behind and uses a running dropkick to leave Jeremy slumping in the corner. Sexton rolls back to his feet and rushes in, but Jeremy counters with a desperation boot to the jaw. A kick to the gut doubles Todd over and sets up the VDT (double underhook reverse DDT)!

Jeremy quickly scales the turnbuckles, pausing at the top. He throws his hands up in the double V salute and leaps off for The Moonsault! 1… 2… 3, it’s over.

As Jeremy V takes to the corner for his victorious double V salute, Slim J hops the ringside railing and folds up a steel chair. He slides into the ring with it and waffles Jeremy V across the back, knocking him off the top and all the way to the floor. Slim kicks the chair out to the concrete, narrowly missing Jeremy’s head, then handsprings out over the top rope.

He pulls a stunned Jeremy V into a front facelock and uses his boot to position the chair. He lifts Jeremy up and hooks the leg for a fisherman’s buster onto the chair. Slim pulls Jeremy up by the long blonde hair, blood trickling down his brow, and is quickly swarmed by security. They drag him up the aisle kicking and screaming while EMTs attend to the unconscious Jeremy V.

WINNER: Jeremy V, cleanly.

I’ll give a 1/2 star rating. (O:47. C:21. M:74. Jeremy V gained 6 points of overness from the investment of TV time. Todd Sexton gained 3 points of overness.)

3. Blowing Smoke:

The screen goes black (no pun intended) and a voiceover proclaims “The following advertising time has been paid for by People for the Ethical Treatment of Smokey Carmichaels.”

We fade in on Smokey Carmichaels standing backstage in a black suit with skinny tie. He looks angry and bitter, the only two emotions he ever really seems to express. A microphone is held by one hand in a deathgrip.

“Jimmy Rave… Howzit hangin’, Boy?! You feelin’ up ta steppin’ into me again, Punk?! NOBODY trifles with Smokey Carmichaels. You learned that… the HARD way. Now, if you know what’s good for you… what’s good for Little Jimmy… you’ll keep your lily white ASS at home and take satisfaction in the fact that you can still walk to the toilet. I’m TIRED… SICK and TIRED… of bein’ PLAYED in Wildside. I’m tired of bein’ taken LIGHTLY. From the officials… to the announcers… to the BOYZ in the back… you all betta RECOGNIZE… Where there’s SMOKE… there’s FIRE. Recognize.”

(Interview: 46. Well, that could have been better… Smokey’s one-note gimmick is in danger of becoming tiresome. A few catchphrases may not be enough to prevent that.)

4. Lazarus vs. John Hennigan (f):

When we come back from break, Dan “the Dragon” Wilson is ready to introduce our next match.

“Introducing FIRST…”

“Cry Me A River” by Justin Timberlake begins to play, and Lazarus saunters out in his black lace bra, pleated skirt, knee socks, and toe shoes. His face is still painted white with blue tears on his cheeks, his blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. He twirls a white lace parasol in one hand as he strolls down the ramp.

“From Kentwood, Louisiana… weighing in at 183 pounds… THIS… is… Laaaazarus!”

As Lazarus gingerly climbs the ring steps, Neil Young’s guitar and vocals ring out over the P.A. as “Rockin’ in the Free World” begins to play.

“And his OPPONENT… from Los Angeles, California… weighing 201 pounds… John Hennigaaaan!”

Hennigan hops out in black trunks, kneepads, and boots. He’s still sporting his GQ look with short hair and neatly trimmed sideburns. Dan retreats to the broadcast position before Lazarus can enter the ring. Lazz folds up his parasol and does a little softshoe on the apron a la Fred Astaire as Hennigan approaches.

Lazz actually holds the ropes for Hennigan, and the rookie reluctantly takes the bait, getting his ass pinched on the way in. Hennigan turns and charges, but Lazz tosses his parasol aside and uses a drop toehold to smack Hennigan face-first into the middle turnbuckle.

Hennigan turns over just in time to see Lazarus stepping in for a bronco buster, and he’s able to get his feet up to block it and boot Lazarus away. John pulls himself up to his feet and hits a MASSIVE spinning kick to the jaw that staggers his bizarre foe. He runs to the ropes and comes off with a flying elbow, but Lazz drops prone, leaving Referee Speedy Nelson to eat it.

Hennigan turns towards Lazarus, who is struggling to his feet behind Speedy. Hennigan runs and uses Speedy’s back for a NIIICE shining wizard onto Lazz. He hooks the leg deep, but Speedy Nelson is slow to crawl over. Hennigan relinquishes the pinfall and goes over to help, only to leave his back exposed for a forearm shot from Lazarus.

Lazz pulls Hennigan into a rear waistlock and lifts for a HAAARD back suplex. Lazz kips up to his feet and hits a crisp superkick on the rising John Hennigan. He straddles Hennigan for a very slow 1… 2… Hennigan kicks out.

Lazarus pulls Hennigan up in a front facelock. He gets a fistful of trunks and lifts Hennigan up, then walks him to the corner and puts him up on the top. Lazz climbs up to the top rope and grinds Hennigan’s face into his crotch before pulling the rookie into a top rope DDT that was simply BRUUUTAL. Lazarus straddles his foe again for 1… 2… 3-NO! Hennigan throws him off at the last second.

Lazarus walks into a lashing kick to the gut that doubles him over. Hennigan does the RVD roll across the back of Lazarus to make it to the corner and climb up top. Lazz turns just in time to get caught with a flying cross body off the top! 1… 2… 3-NO! Lazz kicks out.

John Hennigan pulls Lazz up by the arm and takes a top wristlock to keep him down on the mat. A few boots to the shoulder maintain the offensive. Eventually, Lazz grabs hold of the groinal region, invoking a warning from Referee Speedy Nelson, but it serves a purpose, as Lazz struggles to his feet and presses Hennigan high overhead. Big body slam puts Hennigan on the mat.

John staggers up to a vertical base, but Lazarus is already on the move… Brittany Spear! But, before Lazz can make the cover, Onyx races down the aisle and slides into the ring. Lazz turns and gets caught in The Blaq Out (Spinning Implant DDT)!

Referee Speedy Nelson quickly calls for the bell, disqualifying John Hennigan due to the interference from Onyx. As Onyx plays to the crowd a bit, a midget, his spitting image, waddles down the ramp and pulls Lazarus to safety. Onyx shakes his head in disbelief as Lazz and Mini-Onyx retreat to the announce position.

WINNER: Lazarus, by disqualification due to interference from Onyx.

I'm going to give this a ** rating because I'm in a generous mood. (O:64. C:52. M:76. John Hennigan lost a point of overness from this match. Lazarus gained 2 points of overness from this match.)

5. Introducing… Mini-Onyx:

Lazarus grabs hold of the house mic.

“You couln’t leave well enough alone, could YOU?! I caught the message, Onyx! I moved on… but it’s YOU who can’t let go. Sure, you may have a few feet on Mini-Onyx when it comes to HEIGHT, but he's got you beat in LENGTH!”

Predictably enough, this infuriates Onyx, who gets a running start and dives through the ropes onto Lazarus, knocking them both onto the announce table. Mini-Onyx heads for higher ground (pun intended) as the two battle tooth and nail. Officials storm ringside and pull the two men apart.

(Midget Impression And Brawl: 60. Lazarus and Onyx each gained a point of overness from this segment.)

6. Heidenreich and Wrenn (Jon Heidenreich and Scottie Wrenn) (f) vs. The West Texas Rednecks (Barry and Kendall Windham) =0= =0= (For The NWA-W Tag Team Titles):

After our last break, we find Dan “the Dragon” Wilson ready to introduce our main event.

“The following contest is for the NWA WIIIILDSIDE Tag Team Championship! Introducing FIRST… the CHALLENGERS… at a combined weight of 575 pounds… from New Orleans, Louisiana and Charlotte, North Carolina… Jon Heidenrrrreich and Scottie Wrrrrenn!”

Heidenreich and Wrenn stomp out to the ring slapping each other on the back. Wrenn’s ribs are heavily taped, and he’s selectively selling the injuries resulting from the hardcore tag title match two weeks ago. Last week’s Heavyweight Title defense surely didn’t do his insides any favors, either.

“And their OPPONENTS… at a combined weight of 550 pounds… the NWA Wildside Tag Team Champions… from Sweetwater… The West Texas Rednecks… Barry and Kendall Wiiiindham!”

Only the first few notes of Garth Brooks’ “Friends in Low Places” plays before the Rednecks storm the ring, their cowboy hats falling behind them. Windham hits a big right hand on Heidenreich while Kendall takes Scottie down with a running knee lift. Referee Speedy Nelson gets Barry and Heidenreich separated and shown out to their respective corners. He turns around just in time to see Kendall bracing Scottie with his forearm and making a cover for 1… 2… Scottie kicks out strong.

Kendall makes the tag to his brother, and, together, they whip Wrenn to the ropes for a double back elbow. The Wildside CEO takes a lazy cover but still manages to get two. He pulls Wrenn up and sends him HARD into a neutral corner. Barry gets a head of steam and hits a sloppy, stumbling clothesline.

Scottie Wrenn slumps in the corner, so Barry proceeds to stomp a mudhole in his already bandaged ribs, eliciting howls of anger and pain. Speedy can’t get a clean break out of Barry, so begins the five count to disqualification. At about three and a half, Barry relents and pulls Wrenn out of the corner into a standing headscissors. He struggles to lift the Heavyweight Champion for an old school piledriver but only barely manages to get him off his feet. Scottie falls back down and manages to backdrop out, but at great cost as he falls to the mat clutching his ribs.

Scottie claws over to the ropes and leans on them to help support himself as he climbs to his feet. He stares down Barry Windham, motioning for him to “Get up! Get up!” Kendall shouts a warning to his brother, but it does no good. Scottie blitzes across the ring and lays Barry out with a spear. He drapes an arm over Windham in desperation for 1… 2… Kendall is in to break up the pin with his cowboy boots. Referee Speedy Nelson shows Kendall back out, leaving us with two men prone on the mat, barely conscious. A perfect time for some…

- - Mid-match Commercials - -

We come back just a few seconds later in the tape. Both men are crawling to make the tag to their respective partners. They tease the double tag, but it’s Jon Heidenreich who gets the hot tag. He grabs Barry Windham by the hair, pulling him away from the tag and into a full nelson. Full nelson slam drills the CEO. Heidenreich hooks the leg deep for 1… 2… 3-NO! Kendall is in to make the save for the champs.

Kendall runs in for a lariat, but eats a back elbow instead, knocking him out over the top rope. Heidenreich takes a side headlock, trying to grind Barry down. It only serves to give Kendall time to get back on the apron, stomping his cowboy boot to rally his brother. Barry gets to one knee, then to unsteady legs, shooting Heidenreich off into the ropes. He runs in close behind and sends Heidenreich toppling to the floor with a sloppy clothesline.

Barry practically falls into the tag to Kendall. Kendall drops off the apron and heads over to fetch Heidenreich from the floor. He rolls him back into the ring and steps in over the top rope. A series of STIFF knife-edge chops back Jon into a corner. He manages to block one, however, and takes a waistlock, physically carrying Kendall out of the corner and towards Scottie Wrenn for an inverted atomic drop/tag combo.

Scottie climbs into the ring and charges Kendall, only to get caught in a powerslam. Kendall pulls Scottie up for an Irish whip, but Scottie reverses and ducks, leaving Referee Speedy Nelson to get turned inside-out with The Lariat. Barry tosses something into the ring. Kendall picks it up just as he’s getting whipped into the ropes. Scottie catches him on the rebound, looking for The Psycho Slam, but Kendall clocks him over the head with the branding iron instead!

Heidenreich tries to make the save, but he gets branded upside the head as well. Kendall tosses it out of the ring while Barry rouses Speedy. Kendall takes a cocky one-booted cover, and Speedy counts a slow 1… 2… 3!

Barry comes in to hug his brother and raise his hand in victory. Their family moment is spoiled when a bloody and furious Jon Heidenreich attacks from behind, clubbing them with forearms. They quickly turn the tide with their two-on-one advantage, but that’s nullified by a bloody Heavyweight Champion. The brawl carries out of the ring in short order and out through the crowd.

Dan “the Dragon” Wilson is out of control. “The West Texas Rednecks stole one tonight, thanks again to the MVP of Team Windham, that branding iron. One of these days, Heidenreich and Wrenn are going to stick that iron where the sun doesn’t shine. Here’s hoping that day is one week from tonight, when we’ll be back with more NWA Wiiiildside!”

WINNERS: The West Texas Rednecks retain by cheating (Kendall over Wrenn after an undetected branding iron shot).

I'll give it a *1/2 rating. (O:57. C:45. M:70. The NWA-W Tag Team titles have gained 4 points of image. Barry Windham lost 2 points of overness. Kendall Windham lost a point of overness. Jon Heidenreich gained 2 points of overness. Scottie Wrenn gained 3 points of overness.)

Overall Rating: 54 % (-2 %)

TV Rating: 0.34 (-0.03)

Strongest Segment: Lazarus vs. John Hennigan. (64%)

Weakest Segment: Smokey doesn’t exactly burn up the mic tonight. (46%)

Attendance: 153 @ $20 each (+1)

September 15, 2003

Barry Windham requests a de-push to Upper Midcard status. I reluctantly oblige him based on his sloppy ringwork if nothing else. His Morale is hurt, but he’d better get over it.

Feedback, criticism, ideas, and verbal attacks are all welcome and encouraged. Thanks for reading, and we’ll see ya soon!

Have fun,

TheRay

Well, given your specific request, I'm going to try to offer some suggestions.

I second the Dark Tower recommendation, as Roland is truly a self-pitying loner on a quest that threatens to destroy him and everyone around him, but he's willing to make bitter sacrifices to fulfill his destiny. Very Ravenesque, especially his early NWA:TNA push. It's not your conventional fantasy series, however, and non-Stephen King fans might be left cold by the constant cross-referencing. King seems eager to tie together everything he's ever written with this series. I don't mind, as I'm an SK mark, but the drama of "Oooh! I remember him!" might be absent for others.

For more conventional fantasy fare, I'd offer the classic Elric series by Michael Moorcock, at least up through Stormbringer. After that, it becomes a series of random Elric adventure which are pretty uneven. The basic synopsis is Elric is the heir to the throne of Melnibone, a decadent kingdom of sorcerous beings, somewhat like elves, who lord over the human Young Kingdoms with callous ruthlessness. The albino Elric finds himself an outcast, both due to his frail health and his conscience, and when faced with a bloody rebellion at the hands of his cousin Yrkoon, he's forced to draw upon foul sorcery and the black soul-sucking blade known as Stormbringer to wrest the throne back from the usurper. Given his work within the comics industry and interviews, there's no doubt in my mind that Scott Levy has read and been inspired by this series.

Lastly, in the realm of fantasy series that influenced Levy, but perhaps don't reflect his in-ring persona, I'd recommend C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia. Now, a prospective reader should know that these are thinly veiled fantasy retellings of biblical fables, but Lewis' series is nearly as influential as The Lord of the Rings. Raven drew heavily upon scenes from the first book (The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe) when he booked his Hair Match vs. Shane Douglas & Minister Mitchell in NWA:TNA. His facial expressions are straight out of the animated adaptation. If you know what you're getting into and can put aside religious differences, it's actually a rather imaginative series with heel turns and sacrifice and such.

For a more historical approach, Bernard Cornwell's Grail Quest series starring Thomas of Hookton as a lowly English archer fulfilling prophecy during The Hundred Years' War is excellent. Well, at least the first two books (The Archer's Tale and Vagabond) are, I haven't yet read the concluding volume in the trilogy, but it'd have to be utter crap to ruin this series. It's not really fantasy, per se, but there's more than enough self-loathing and "victim of destiny" situations to fit the Raven vibe.

Hope that helps,

TheRay

from nwa-wildside.com

Wildside Rankings

Official Wildside Rankings for the month of August, 2003

National Wrestling Alliance BOD Champions:

NWA World Champion: “The Phenomenal” AJ Styles

NWA World Tag Team Champions: The Disciples of the New Church (Brian Lee and Slash)

NWA X Division Champion: The Amazing Red

NWA World Jr. Heavyweight Champion: Rocky Reynolds

NWA North American Champion: Hotstuff Hernandez

NWA Wildside Heavyweight Champion: “The Ticking Time Bomb” Scottie Wrenn – 275 lbs. Charlotte, NC

1) “The Soul Assassin” Rainman – 221 lbs. The Dark City (Wildside World TV Champion)

2) Jeremy Lopez – 187 lbs. Tampa, FL

3) Barry Windham – 275 lbs. Sweetwater, TX

4) Kendall Windham – 260 lbs. Sweetwater, TX

5) “The Original XTC” Jimmy Rave – 210 lbs. The Underground

6) “The Genetic Specimen” Onyx – 217 lbs. Jamaica City, Queens, NY

7) Lazarus – 183 lbs. Kentwood, LA

8) John Hennigan – 201 lbs. Los Angeles, CA

9) Smokey Carmichaels – 185 lbs. Harlem, NY

10) “The Royal Stud” Adam Windsor – 214 lbs. Coventry, England

NWA Wildside Tag Team Champions: The West Texas Rednecks – Combined 535 lbs., Sweetwater, TX

1) Tank and Scottie Wrenn – Combined 555 lbs., Union Beach, NJ and Charlotte, NC

2) Jimmy Rave and Onyx – Combined 427 lbs., The Underground and Jamaica City, Queens, NY

3) Future Shock (Brandon P and Jay Freeze) – Combined 435 lbs., Chapel Hill, NC

4) Rage (Mike Pittman and Scott Cage) – Combined 396 lbs., Atlantic City, NJ and Ft. Lauderdale, FL

5) Lazarus and Smokey Carmichaels – Combined 368 lbs., Kentwood, LA and Harlem, NY

NWA Wildside Jr. Heavyweight Champion: Sal del Rio – 183 lbs. Every Girl’s Fantasy

1) Jay Freeze – 215 lbs. Chapel Hill, NC

2) Gabriel – 207 lbs. The Middle Of Nowhere

3) “The Real” Slim J – 189 lbs. Detroit, MI

4) Jeremy V – 190 lbs. Myrtle Beach, SC

5) Kid Kool – 180 lbs. Every Girl’s Fantasy

Rankings Analysis:

- Although there are no weight restrictions on contenders to the NWA Wildside Heavyweight Championship, a number of contenders would truly be classified as junior heavyweights and are at a considerable weight disadvantage.

- Jeremy Lopez continues to climb the ranks of Heavyweight Championship contenders, moving up from #3 to #2 due to the departure of the former champion.

- Smokey Carmichaels’ protests seem to have been valid, but he must take responsibility for his own losses. Kendall Windham debuts at #4, right behind brother Barry. Smokey drops to #9 primarily due to some costly losses, most of them to Jimmy Rave, who debuts at #5.

- Lazarus and Onyx continue their battle, trading positions at #6 and #7.

- Former Heavyweight Champion and CEO Rick Michaels drops off the rankings due to his absence.

- Rookie John Hennigan makes an impressive debut at #8, but Adam Windsor has done nothing but slide since his debut, dropping two places to round out the top ten.

- The former NWA Wildside Tag Team Champions automatically take the #1 contendership slot, but that may be only temporary as their status is questionable at this time.

- Jimmy Rave and Onyx have become an impressive team and debut at #2 this month.

- Future Shock, despite some impressive victories, continue to be haunted and hindered by their loss to Rage. For their part, Rage has fared even worse, dropping three slots to #4 and losing a #1 contenders match against the current champions, The West Texas Rednecks, on the latter’s path to the titles.

- G-Rated and the NWA Elite team have both broken up. The Lost Boyz have also fallen off the top five, coming away on the losing end of their feud with Future Shock.

- The disfunctional duo of Smokey Carmichaels and Lazarus round out the top five.

- NWA Wildside Jr. Heavyweight Champion Sal del Rio has given up his former Kid Xtacy moniker, but has retained hold of his title.

- His former partner, Kid Kool, has dropped from the #1 contendership slot all the way to the bottom of the top five due to his ankle injury.

- Jay Freeze of Future Shock has enjoyed singles success while his partner recovers from their grueling cage match against The Lost Boyz.

- Scott Cage of Rage has not fared as well, and has fallen out of the top five, allowing Slim J and Jeremy V to move up one slot each. However, Slim is not currently employed by Wildside, and is unable to capitalize upon his good fortune.

August 31, 2003

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

Wildside 5.0

Wildside 5.0 is held LIVE at The NWA Arena in Cornelia, Georgia.

1. A Shock to the System:

The show opens with the growling voice of ring announcer Dan “The Dragon” Wilson introducing our first match from within the confines of a fifteen foot high steel cage.

“Ladies and gentlemen… WELCOME to Wildside Five Point Oooooh! Introducing FIRST… from Chapel Hill, North Carolina… at a combined weight of 435 pounds… Brandon P and Jay Freeze… Fuuuuture Shock!”

Future Shock come out, and Brandon P is practically pushing Jay Freeze down the ramp. Freeze laces his fingers through the links in the cage and pulls on it, seemingly unsure about things. Brandon P asks “The Dragon” to open the cage door for them, but our ring announcer shoots him the middle finger instead. This just serves to light a fire under Jay Freeze, as he yanks the door open and climbs into the ring, his partner following close behind.

Freeze gets nose to nose with Wilson, then rips the house mic out of his grasp. “Show us some respect, Wilson. Where’s our very own resident cage dancer, Alicia Webb, huh? She goes on location to graveyards and kindergartens to talk with The Lost Boyz, but she won’t come out here to talk with us? Why, because we’re uncouth? Because we don’t fawn over her like those schoolyard PUNKS? Or like you, Wilson, you hard-up wannabe?”

Brandon P slaps “The Dragon,” getting him to grit his teeth, but hold his ground. “Look at us when we’re talking to you, loudmouth. You think you can run your mouth week-in, week-out without any repercussions? You think we don’t hear the things you say about us? Look around you, dumbass. You’re surrounded by fifteen feet of harsh steel separating you from the rest of the world… separating you from the rest of your LIFE. You’ll walk out of this cage tonight ONLY because we LET you. The Lost Boyz won’t be so lucky…” Freeze holds out the mic for Wilson, then drops it to the mat when he reaches for it.

Dan picks up the mic, his eyes never leaving Future Shock, then continues his introductions.

(Interview: 54. Future Shock each gained 3 points of overness from their threats.)

2. Future Shock (Brandon P and Jay Freeze) (-H-) vs. The Lost Boyz (Azrael and Gabriel) (-F-) Cage Match:

“And their opponents … from The Middle of Nowhere… at a combined weight of 444 pounds… Azrael and Gabriel… The Loooost Boyz!”

“long way back from hell” by Danzig begins to play, and The Lost Boyz race down the ramp. Azrael rips his shirt off on the way, exposing a chest covered in strange alchemical symbols scribed in body paint. Freaky but sooo not over.

They climb into the ring, followed by Referee Andrew Thomas, who bars the door behind them as “The Dragon” joins his colleague, Steven Prazak, at the announce position. Future Shock is on their foes in a hurry, hitting a bunch of forearms and fisticuffs. The Lost Boyz battle back in short order, hitting kicks to the midsection and forearms of their own to rally. They each grab a Future Shock member by the back of the neck and hit stereo face-first throws into the cage.

We get some struggling and grappling for a bit as The Lost Boyz rake their hated rivals across the cage to get the claret flowing. A powerbomb by Azrael lays Brandon P out on the mat. Meanwhile, Gabriel is climbing up to the top of the cage. Azrael takes a kneeling, praying posture, his head bowed, his eyes closed, as Gabriel stands at the top of the cage. Gabriel points up with both hands, then down, and leaps for a corkscrew senton, but Jay Freeze manages to pull his partner out of the way to safety, and Gabriel crashes and burns in spectacular fashion.

Azrael, sensing something went wrong, gets to his feet, only to eat a stereo superkick that drops him like a gunshot. They wipe the blood from their brows and then pull a dazed Gabriel up by his wrists. A double Irish whip sends him to the ropes and a double clothesline levels him on the rebound.

Brandon P hits a low blow on Azrael before he can make the save. Jay Freeze then hooks him under the calves and falls back, catapulting Azrael into the cage and busting him open. He pulls Az away by the hair and scoops him up into The Icebreaker (Gory Guerrero Driver).

Freeze then pulls Gabriel over by the hair and into a standing headscissors. He powers him up into powerbomb position, then lets him hang for a baseball slide dropkick from Brandon P, then powerbombs him into the mat for The Aftershock, then rolls it, but instead of a second powerbomb, Jay Freeze falls back and catapults Gabriel into the cage, causing him to fall in a crumpled heap.

Although bloody themselves, Future Shock casually open the cage door and climb out under their own power for the win. They sneer at our announce team before marching off victorious.

WINNERS: Future Shock, by escaping the cage cleanly.

This one gets * rating and likes it. (O:51. C:36. M:66. Brandon P gained 6 points of overness from this feud ending. Jay Freeze gained 4 points of overness from this feud ending. Azrael lost EVERY point of his 7 overness from this feud ending. Gabriel lost 9 points of overness from this feud ending, so I guess I’m glad Az only had 7 to lose...)

3. Jeremy V (-F-) vs. Slim J (-H-):

After a short intermission to raise the cage, Dan Wilson prepares the introductions for our next match. “Jeremy” by Pearl Jam begins to play, and out comes Jeremy V.

"Introducing FIRST… on his way to the ring… from Myrtle Beach, South Carolina… weighing in at 201 pounds… Jeeeeremy V!"

Jeremy strides out, his blonde hair hanging over both shoulders. He checks the red tape wrapped around his wrists and adjusts the black pads protecting his elbows. His red and black tights are adorned with a bold white “V”. Black boots round out his wardrobe. He climbs into the ring and takes to the top turnbuckle, closing his eyes as he tilts his head back and gives the crowd a double V salute. Nobody returns the favor.

"And his OPPONENT… from Motown… Detroit, Michigan… weighing in at 189 pounds… THIS is the REAL Slim J!"

As a generic hip-hop beat plays, Slim J comes out in a generic hip-hop strut. He taunts Jeremy with the double V salute, then turns it into a double middle finger and crotch grab. Dan “the Dragon” Wilson joins Prazak at ringside to call the action as Slim slingshots himself into the ring.

Slim J opens up by feinting a lock-up, hitting a basement dropkick to the knee instead to floor Jeremy V. The Real Slim J drops an elbow on the back of the neck and then adopts a side headlock, leaning back to jaw with Referee Andrew Thomas and the fans at ringside.

Jeremy V slaps at Slim’s side, then pivots to put Slim’s shoulders down for a quick two before Slim springs free. Jeremy V catches Slim napping with a right hand. A spinning back kick doubles Slim over and sets up a CRISP snap suplex. A lateral press gets a quick two before Slim kicks out strong.

Jeremy pulls him up by the arm and chickenwings both arms for The VDT (a double underhook sideslam). He takes a cover for 1… 2… 2.9999! Slim J rolled his shoulder JUST in time.

Both men are quick to their feet. Jeremy V takes an early advantage, sending Slim to the ropes with an Irish whip. He heads to the near ropes for some momentum. Both men rapidly converge toward the center of the ring. Slim J hunkers down, perhaps for a spear or backdrop, but Jeremy hits a step-up knee to the face (enzui-knee-ri?) that knocks Slim stumbling back into the ropes. He bounces off, and Jeremy hits a boot to the gut to double him over, then adopts a standing headscissors, but Slim is quick to backdrop out, sending Jeremy flying over the top rope. He manages to grab hold of the rope on the way down, however, and ably skins the cat, but Slim is already bouncing off the near side and LAUNCHES him off the apron and into the ringside railing with a flying reverse elbow.

Referee Andrew Thomas begins the countout. Jeremy fishes for some fan support as he uses the railing to pull himself up, but the front row is mostly indifferent to his plight. He still manages to slide in at the count of eight, only to eat a baseball slide dropkick that sends him skidding across the mat and into the corner post. Slim drags him out, takes the cover, and even tries the feet on the ropes for leverage, but Thomas catches it just before the three and stops the count.

Jeremy V tries valiantly to punch his way up to his feet, but Slim J cuts that short with a snap kick to the ribs. Slim pulls him up by the long blonde hair and uses a high standing dropkick to smack him into the corner. Nice vertical ups for The Real Slim J.

Slim backs out of the corner and takes a mocking three-point stance. This never goes well for the heel. He charges in for a big splash, but Jeremy sidesteps and helps launch him into the ring post. Jeremy pulls him into a rear waistlock and sets him up on the top turnbuckle, facing the crowd. Jeremy climbs up behind him and hooks up a HAAARD back superplex that folds Slim J in half. Jeremy rolls through and to his feet, stepping out through the ropes to climb back up to the top. He gives the crowd the double V salute and then leaps off for The Moonsault. One baggy pant leg gets hooked and it’s 1… 2… 3.

Referee Andrew Thomas raises Jeremy’s hand in victory, and he immediately heads to the corner to give the crowd yet another double V salute. Slim J ambles to his feet and charges, hitting Jeremy with a forearm across the back. He ducks into the corner and powerbombs Jeremy out with authority. Thomas tries to intervene, but Slim just shoves him aside and climbs out to the apron and up to the top. The 420 Splash connects, and Slim is on his feet to intercept the house mic before Dan “the Dragon” Wilson can announce Jeremy V as the winner.

“Awwww HELL no! I ain’t gonna go…

Out like THAT… shoulders to the MAT…

It’s an INJUSTICE… You can’t TRUST this…

Ridiculous decision…

(Slim rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger and blinks theatrically)

The ref’s got TUNNEL vision…

Can’t deny me… Tryin’ ta get by me…

White messiah of hip-hop…

Bitches always lookin’ ta CRUCIFY me.

(TAP… TAP… Slim drives an imaginary nail with the mic against his hand)

BUUUUUUUHHHHHHHSTERRRRRRR!”

WINNER: Jeremy V, cleanly.

I'll give it a * rating for not being too bad. (O:53. C:26. M:80. Slim J lost a point of overness from his loss, but Jeremy V gained a big 8 points of overness.)

4. Opportunity Knocks:

Suddenly, we get some very audible and very insincere clapping from the ramp. Out walks everyone’s favorite legislator, Jeff G. Bailey. He gives Slim J a condescending sneer.

“Slim… Slim… Slim. That was… touching. Your rhymes are TRULY off the hizzle fo’ shizzle. Heh-heh. Look, Kid. You’ve got a lot of talent. Anyone can see that. That’s why I bring an important message from our ILLUSTRIOUS Chief Executive Officer. You see, no one in the office would want to stand in the way of your dreams, and CLEARLY, based on your performance tonight, you’ve got a long career ahead of you.”

Slim J beams with pride. “Yeah, you right, Dog. True that.”

“UNFORTUNATELY… that career ISN’T as an NWA Wildside superstar. Your rap career beckons, Slim. Your wrestling commitments need not stand in your way any longer.”

Slim climbs out of the ring and starts to head up the ramp, microphone still in hand. “What you talkin’ ‘bout, Bailey?!”

“Slim… YOU’RE FIRED!” Slim J drops the mic and grabs Jeff G. Bailey by the lapels of his ill-fitting suit. “Hey! Unhand me! I’m just the messenger.”

Seeing security at the ready, Slim lets Bailey go, shaking his head as he is shown out. The fans are largely indifferent, but there’s a spotty “Na-na-na-NA… Na-na-na-NA… Hey, hey, hey… Good bye” chant. Jeff G. Bailey tosses the house mic back into the ring and heads out, grinning like the proverbial cat that ate the canary.

(Authority Announces Firing: 54. Jeff G. Bailey gained 2 points of overness from his attitude. Slim J gained 3 points of overness, perhaps even teasing a face turn. This more than undoes the overness sacrificed in the match to put Jeremy V over.)

5. Caprice Coleman (-F-) vs. Sal del Rio w/Desire (-H-) (For The NWA-W Junior Heavyweight Title):

Dan “the Dragon” Wilson reclaims the house mic and begins the introductions for our next match.

"The following contest is one fall for the Wildside Juuuunior Heavyweight Championship…

Introducing FIRST… the CHALLENGER… from Fayetteville, North Carolina… weighing in at 197 pounds… the self-proclaimed show-stoppin', crowd-poppin', body-rockin', pulse-poundin', heartbreakin', handsome-faced superstar... Caprice... ICE... Cooooleman!"

Coleman is a clean-cut black athlete in the Shelton Benjamin style. He wears his hair buzzed very close to the scalp. A pooka-shell necklace hangs around his neck. He sports black elbow pads and boots and two-tone tights, split into dark blue on the left side and light blue on the right. He slaps hands with some ringside fans, but maintains focus like a serious competitor.

"Physical" by Olivia Newton-John begins to play, and Desire leads Sal del Rio out. She is agressively spraying water on his face and hair and toweling him off as he jogs in place. They wear matching purple and white attire, Desire’s consisting of a white lycra halter top and micro shorts with purple striping as well as white high-top sneakers, his consisting of purple tights and white boots.

At her command, he hits a few ridiculous squat thrusts on the ramp. Ugh. Desire gives him a few pointers, and then an encouraging slap on the ass sends him up the ring steps and into the ring. Sal does a few jumping jacks while jawing at Coleman, but “Ice” hardly seems intimidated.

Both men circle for a bit, feeling each other out, until Sal connects with a forearm to the face. He pulls Ice into a front facelock and looks for a suplex, but can’t get him over and is forced to set him down and release it. Coleman responds with a short, sharp dropkick to the chest that knocks Sal on his backside. This sets up a shining wizard kick to the jaw.

Coleman pulls del Rio up by the arm and uses an Irish whip to send him back-first into the turnbuckles. He runs in for a clothesline, but Sal manages to pull Referee Andrew Thomas in the way to get squashed. Thomas falls away, but Caprice presses the offensive, laying boots into the ribs of the champion. A front facelock and a pull of the tights lets Caprice set del Rio astride the top turnbuckle. He climbs up after and sets himself on the top rope. He pulls Sal del Rio off in a BRUUUTAL DDT.

Caprice rolls a nigh-unconscious Sal del Rio over and hooks the leg in a deep cover, but Referee Andrew Thomas, still stunned, is slow to crawl over to count the fall. Desire reaches in under the bottom rope and tugs on his pants leg to distract him. This buys Sal the time he needs to recover and roll back to his feet. Caprice lunges at him, but he ducks the attack and hits an over-the-shoulder neckbreaker from behind.

Sal tries to draw some heel heat as he recovers from that top rope DDT, pointing at Desire and doing some jumping jacks to her enthusiastic applause. He lifts Coleman up by the neck and pulls him into a standing headscissors. He hooks Ice under the waist and lifts him up for a BIIIG piledriver, then rolls back and to his feet fluidly, all smiles. The subsequent lateral press gets a solid two before Caprice kicks out.

An Irish whip slams Coleman into the corner, and he staggers out holding the small of his back. Sal del Rio measures him and catches him in a thunderous spinebuster. Nice pivot. He hooks the leg deep for 1… 2… 3-NO! Caprice rolls his shoulder, and Desire can’t believe it. She’s slapping the mat and screaming at Referee Andrew Thomas.

Sal pulls Caprice up and sends him to the ropes. Desire reaches in and hooks his ankle, making him stumble just as Sal rushes in for a clothesline. Caprice manages to duck, however, and pull down the top rope for a low bridge that sends Sal tumbling over the ropes. He manages to skin the cat and pull himself up onto the apron, but Caprice is ready for him and uses a rana to bring him into the ring. Caprice snares the leg to turn it into a pinning combination for 1… 2… 3-NO! Sal springs free just in time.

Desire has climbed up onto the apron. Referee Andrew Thomas is demanding that she step down. Caprice Coleman pulls Sal up by the arm and squares his stance. He goes for an Irish whip, but Sal reverses, sending Coleman barreling into Desire, who falls off the apron. Coleman staggers off the ropes and stumbles onto all fours, allowing Sal to hit the Chalupa Crunch (a step-up, almost shining wizard-ish, rocker dropper)! 1....2...3, it's finished.

Sal del Rio jerks his arm away from Referee Andrew Thomas and holds the ropes open for Desire, who is allowed to raise his hand in victory. Together, they begin laying the boots into Caprice Coleman. Suddenly, the Head Cheerleader, Destiny, comes running down the aisle, her yellow and black pleated skirt flailing wildly, a tennis racket in her hand. She slides into the ring and begins swinging it recklessly, sending del Rio and Desire heading for cover as well as making Referee Andrew Thomas cover up to protect his face.

WINNER: Sal del Rio retains, thanks to a distraction from Desire.

Rating: 1/2 star. (O:50. C:27. M:74. The NWA-W Junior Heavyweight title has gained 4 points of image. Desire debuted her new Fitness Instructor gimmick, it got a positive response, earning her 3 points of overness. Caprice Coleman gained 3 points of overness from this opportunity. Sal del Rio gained 6 points of overness from retaining his title.)

6. Backhand to the Backside:

As Destiny squats down to check on Caprice Coleman, Desire slides back into the ring behind her for a mild heel pop. She grabs Destiny by the ponytail and pulls her backward. Destiny reaches for the tennis racket, but her fingers just brush it. Desire starts ripping the black and yellow sweater off of Destiny to mild cheers, exposing a small black sports bra. She takes the struggling Destiny over her knee as Sal del Rio climbs into the ring. Desire pulls up the cheerleader’s skirt to reveal a thin black thong. As Destiny kicks and screams, Sal takes the tennis racket, winds up, and paddles her squarely on the bottom. Desire lets her go, and the heels have a chuckle as Destiny races off, struggling to cover up. Sal shoulders the tennis racket, and they give Caprice one last derisive glare before heading out. Caprice is then helped to his feet and escorted out as Dan “the Dragon” Wilson gets ready to introduce the next match.

(Stripping: 65. Desire and Destiny each gained 4 points of overness from this humiliating segment.)

7. Smokey Carmichaels & Lazarus (-H-) vs. Jimmy Rave & Onyx (-F-):

"The following tag team contest is one fall… Introducing FIRST…"

Smokey Carmichaels sprints down the ramp and slides into the ring. Dan “the Dragon” Wilson throws his hands up in exasperation and resignedly hands the microphone to Smokey.

“Yeah… That’s right, Cracker. Respect this. Look, I just want to make one thing PERFECTLY clear. Just because a man is my TAG TEAM partner, doesn’t mean I agree with his…”

Suddenly, Justin Timberlake’s “Cry Me A River” begins to play, and out comes his tag team partner of the evening, the freak Lazarus. Lazarus wears his white face paint, but with blue tears down both cheeks. His long blonde hair is pulled back in a subdued ponytail. Instead of his usual attire, he wears a black velvet cavalryman’s jacket with sparkling silver glitter shoulderboards, black pants, silver rhinestone-studded shoes, and a single, silver glove. He hangs his head, gloved hand over his face, and moonwalks down the ramp.

As Smokey stares, jaw agape, Dan “the Dragon” Wilson takes the opportunity to reclaim the microphone.

“His tag team partner… from Kentwood, Louisiana… weighing in at 183 pounds… THIS… is… Laaaazarus!”

Smokey is all “Aw, HELL no!” but without benefit of microphone. Lazz is distant and uncommunicative, choosing to slump in one of the corners like a “man” already defeated.

“And their OPPONENTS… introducing first… from The Underground… at a weight of 210 pounds… The Original XTC... Jimmy Raaaave!”

Rave races out, ripping off his sleeveless black Jimmy Rave t-shirt on the way for a cheap squeal from the teeny-boppers. He wears black elbow pads and boots, presumably with kickpads hidden under the legs of his baggy silver pants.

He slides into the ring, causing the heels to scatter. Smokey is still uncertain about the whole arrangement, and starts backing up the ramp as Rave tries to taunt him back into the ring. Suddenly, “Slam” by Onyx begins to play, causing Smokey to stop in his tracks.

"His tag team partner… from Jamaica, Queens in The Big Apple… weighing in at 217 pounds… The Genetic Specimen… THIS… is… Onyx!"

Onyx rips off his black bandanna, grabs Smokey by the cargo pants and the scruff of his neck, and runs his foe down the ramp and into the ring. Wilson heads over to the announce position, the bell rings, and we’re underway. Smokey turns, only to eat a HIIIGH dropkick from Jimmy Rave. He scrambles up to his feet and eats a SECOND dropkick. Rave hooks the leg for 1… 2… Kick out by Smokey Carmichaels.

Jimmy Rave backs up and tags out to Onyx, who slingshots himself into the ring. Together, they whip Smokey into the ropes and hit a double elbow smash to the face. Onyx takes the lateral press as Jimmy Rave steps out and gets 1… 2… Smokey kicks out again.

Onyx pulls Smokey up and measures him for a big crescent kick, but Smokey catches the boot and spins him around. Onyx tries a discus clothesline, but Smokey manages to duck it and hit a diving reverse DDT. Carmichaels nods his approval at that exchange and runs to the ropes, coming off with a SMOOOOOTH senton. He leans back and hooks the leg for 1… 2… Onyx gets his shoulder up.

Smokey pulls Onyx up by the neck, and Lazarus reaches in to make the blind tag. Smokey Carmichaels is shocked again as Lazz steps into the ring. Smokey gets a few forearm shots to the neck and shoulders of Onyx before being forced out by Referee Speedy Nelson.

Lazarus backs into the ropes for momentum and slams Onyx down with a bulldog. He rolls “The Genetic Specimen” over and straddles him. Lazz plants a kiss on him as Speedy counts the 1… 2… 3-NO! Onyx struggles free, spitting and wiping his lips. Lazarus, visibly emotional, takes a wild swing, but Onyx blocks it with ease and hits a dropkick to the knee to knock Lazz flat on his face.

Onyx, still wiping his face, backs into his corner and tags out to Jimmy Rave. Rave lays some boots to the prone Lazarus, then climbs on his back and hooks up a full nelson camel clutch. Lazz is your heel in peril, but only for a moment before he can struggle up to a vertical base and barrel backwards into the turnbuckles, crushing Rave.

Smokey’s all-too-quick to take advantage of this situation, and eagerly tags himself in. Jimmy Rave knocks Lazarus sprawling into the ropes with a spin kick to the face. Smokey, the legal man, buries Jimmy from behind with a back suplex that folds him up in a crumpled heap. Smokey begins climbing up to the top, getting ready for his Top Rope Leg Drop finisher, but Lazarus backs into the ropes, bouncing off for a Brittany Spear on the incoming Onyx. This causes Smokey to fall and crotch himself on the top turnbuckle with a blood-curdling cry. As Lazz pummels Onyx with his one gloved fist, Rave slowly gets to his feet. He climbs up after Smokey and sets him helplessly on the top for The Gravity Killer!!! Ultrafast Tornado DDT from the top SPIKES Smokey Carmichaels! Jimmy Rave drapes his arm over Smokey Carmichaels… 1… 2… 3!!

Lazarus dives to make the save, but he’s far, far too late. Jimmy Rave rolls out of the ring and heads around the bend to collect his partner, Onyx. Meanwhile, Lazz checks on the barely conscious Smokey. He helps Carmichaels up to unsteady legs. Smokey doubles over, holding his crotch, and Lazz actually reaches in, presumably to check on it. This just makes Smokey even more irate, and he shoves Lazarus away with a stream of expletives. Lazz storms off in a huff, leaving Smokey to recover on his own.

WINNERS: Jimmy Rave & Onyx (Rave over Smokey Carmichaels), cleanly.

Almost a ** match, but not quite - *1/2 rating. (O:59. C:39. M:80. Jimmy Rave gained 6 points of overness from the big win. Lazarus gained 4 points of overness for his part. Smokey Carmichaels gained 3 points of overness.)

8. The West Texas Rednecks (Barry Windham & Kendall Windham) (-H-) vs. Tank and (Scottie) Wrenn (-F-) =0= =0= (For The NWA-W Tag Team Titles):

“The following contest is for the NWA WIIIILDSIDE Tag Team Championship! Introducing FIRST… the CHALLENGERS… at a combined weight of 550 pounds… from Sweetwater… The West Texas Rednecks… Barry and Kendall Wiiiindham!”

As Garth Brooks’ “Friends in Low Places” plays over the P.A., the Rednecks come out in street clothes, blue jeans, white cowboy boots, black leather vests and fingerless gloves, and black cowboy hats. Barry carries a branding iron while Kendall wields a nasty-looking boot spur. They climb up onto the apron, step over the top rope, and pace around menacingly. Barry shouts something at Dan “the Dragon” Wilson, and Wilson looks shocked and appalled.

“I’m being told that this match will be a HARDCORE MATCH… Their OPPONENTS… at a combined weight of 555 pounds… they are the NWA Wildside Tag Team Champions… Tank and Wrrrrenn!”

Tank and Wrenn lumber down the aisle, dropping their title belts along the way. The bald behemoth Tank carries his trusty sickle while the Heavyweight Champion Scottie Wrenn promptly fetches a steel chair. They storm the ring, but the Rednecks are ready and waiting. Barry clumsily drops his branding iron to catch Tank with a crappy standing spinebuster. Kendall fares better with Wrenn, tossing the spur to catch him in a big fallaway slam with major impact.

The West Texas Rednecks pull Tank up and send him to the ropes. He comes off and gets LEVELLED with a double lariat. Barry retrieves his branding iron, and goes to work choking Tank out with it. Scottie stumbles over with some forearms to the back to try and save his partner. This only leaves him open to a waffling chair shot (his own weapon) from Kendall. A second shot sends Wrenn reeling away holding the small of his back. Kendall tosses the bent chair out to the floor and goes for his spur.

As Barry holds Tank down, the spur opens up the forehead of the big New Jersey native. As the blood runs into his moustache and mouth, the maniacal brawler begins “Tanking up.” He gets both hands on the branding iron and muscles it away from his throat. Kendall begins taking shots at Tank’s head with the spur between his knuckles, but the psychotic champion seems impervious to pain. Barry looks frightened as Tank twists and uses the branding iron to toss him, weapon and all, over the top rope and out to the floor.

Kendall takes a wild, loaded swing at Tank, but the bloody champion easily ducks it and hooks him around the waist. A release northern lights suplex LAUNCHES Kendall Windham high overhead. Scottie Wrenn, back on his feet, staggers over to Kendall and kicks the spur out of the ring. He bends down and begins laying taped fists into the head of the Redneck.

He picks Kendall up by the neck and torso and presses him high overhead. Scottie turns to each side of the ring, fishing for a pop, but it’s not happening. Dead crowd tonight, and it’s a shame. He drops Kendall into a face-first powerbomb. Tank, meanwhile, also tries for a cheap pop, picking up his trademark sickle and holding it up in his bloody hand.

He stalks over to Kendall Windham, who has crawled and backed into a corner. Kendall tries begging off, but the bloody Tank just smiles. He draws in close… close enough for Kendall to get a boot straight up between his legs, doubling him over. Kendall uses the ropes to pull himself to his feet and hits a knee lift to knock Tank down to the canvas.

That leaves him open to a BIIIG clothesline from Scottie Wrenn, however, who crushes him in the corner. Scottie drops down and begins laying in the shoulder blocks, shaking the ring. A few European uppercuts keep Kendall reeling as Tank struggles to pull himself up. Scottie backs out and watches as Kendall staggers out of the corner.

He hooks Kendall’s arms behind his back as Tank gingerly backs into the ropes. Tank comes off with the Mafia kick, but Kendall breaks free to dodge and Scottie Wrenn eats Tank’s boot. Barry Windham slides into the ring and takes Tank out with a swing of the branding iron, leaving Scottie Wrenn stumbling and helpless. Kendall hooks up his Swinging Neckbreaker. He makes an exhausted cover and gets the 1… 2… 3.

Barry pulls his wrist away from Referee Speedy Nelson and threatens him with the branding iron. He points it at Wrenn and barks orders to his brother. Kendall holds Scottie Wrenn up in a rough approximation of an abdominal stretch, leaving him open for a soft branding iron shot to the ribs. Scottie drops in an unconscious lump.

CEO Barry Windham stomps over to where Tank is writhing and hits him weakly a few more times in the forehead, bloodying up the end of the branding iron. He then walks back to Scottie and rubs the branding iron across the Heavyweight Champion’s forehead, leaving a bloody “brand.” Last time it was Rick Michaels’ blood and it was a handprint on Jeff G. Bailey. The brothers collect the tag team titles on the ramp, hug, and we’re done.

WINNERS: The West Texas Rednecks cleanly capture the NWA Wildside Tag Team Titles after naming a surprise stipulation.

Bland match, but I'll give it a * rating for not being too bad. (O:53. C:39. M:67. The NWA-W Tag Team titles have gained 4 points of image. The West Texas Rednecks each lost a point of overness from the burden of such a lowly title, but Scottie Wrenn gained 3 and Tank gained 2.)

Overall Rating: 54 % (+4 %)

Strongest Segment: Predictably, Desire stripping Destiny down to her skivvies. (65%)

Weakest Segment: The match that led to this humiliation. (50%)

Attendance: 334 @ $20 each (+3)

September 1, 2003

The Lost Boyz complain “That last feud was terrible for us, it has hurt our image.” Sorry guys. We’ll work on it.

I grant Sal del Rio’s requested push up to Lower Midcard.

I grant Lazarus’ requested push up to Midcard.

I push Slim J up to Lower Midcard at the request of my writing staff. What?! I thought he was fired…

Randy Savage has retired from the WWE and Riki Choshu has retired from PWI.

ROH has a new show on Sundays. Just what I need…

The NWA-Wildside Heavyweight Title lost 3 points of Image, presumably from not getting defended on this show.

NWA Wildside has released Destiny and Tank from their verbal commitments, wishing them well in endeavors elsewhere. Two promising young talents are quickly brought into the Wildside roster to fill the void.

We made a $158K profit in August. Yay!

September 2, 2003

It’s Vader Time!: WWE sign Vader.

Feedback, criticism, ideas, and verbal attacks are all welcome and encouraged. Thanks for reading, and we’ll see ya soon!

Have fun,

TheRay

August 31, 2003

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

NWA Wildside TV #9

NWA Wildside TV is taped LIVE at The NWA Arena in Cornelia, Georgia.

“They claim to have attitude… They want us to get the F out… But, after four years, we're not going anywhere but UP. We are about to enter our fifth year with a BANG at Wildside 5.0. THIS is NWA Wiiiildside!”

Thank goodness for the new Motley Crue digital remasters, because "Wildside" by arguably the greatest hair band ever is our official theme. Dan “the Dragon” Wilson joins us in the studio with broadcast colleague, Steven Prazak.

"It's hard to believe it's been four GLORIOUS years, but let's leave the celebration until after Wildside 5.0. We've got a lot of things coming to a boil tonight, Steve, and the first has to be the war between The Lost Boyz and Future Shock."

"Let's not waste any time, Dan. This might have started with G-Rated and Alicia Webb, but we'll get to the exploits of Kid Kool and Kid Xtacy in a bit."

"It all began last month, when The Lost Boyz came to the rescue of G-Rated and Destiny… Rrrroll the clip."

July 13, 2003: G-Rated (Kid Kool and Kid Xtacy) w/Destiny (f) vs. Future Shock (Brandon P and Jay Freeze)

As Future Shock get their hands raised in victory, Destiny steps forward to dispute the decision. Jay Freeze seizes her by the ponytail, causing her to shriek. The Lost Boyz race to the rescue with steel chairs in hand. They slide into the ring, causing Jay Freeze to throw Destiny in their direction. She slides through, avoiding the con-chair-to, but Freeze is not so lucky. Brandon P rips a chair out of Gabriel’s hands, only to get it knocked into his own face with a spinning back kick. The Lost Boyz help Destiny up and reunite her with G-Rated before the whole face faction leaves together.

August 24, 2003

cZw has risen to Cult Level while my brothers at NWATNA have fallen to National.

cZw signs The Demon, Roadkill, Maven, Rosey, and Tony Shiavone (?!).

NWATNA drops Erik Watts, Chase Stevens, Don West ("Say it isn't so, Mike!!!"), Referee Rudy Charles, and Dean Malenko. Vince Russo has been demoted from the writing staff to purely an on-air persona.

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

NWA Wildside TV #8

NWA Wildside TV is taped LIVE at The NWA Arena in Cornelia, Georgia.

“Record heat sweeps the globe, but we’re just getting warmed up. Just one week from our fourth anniversary show, Wildside 5.0, pour yourself a cold drink, turn on the A/C, sit back, relax, and cool down with the best wrestling on television today. THIS is NWA Wiiiildside!”

Thank goodness for the new Motley Crue digital remasters, because "Wildside" by arguably the greatest hair band ever is our official theme.

1. “Everybody Wants to Rule the World”:

After our opening credits, we find ourselves outside the office of CEO Barry Windham. The door is closed, with a small Texas flag over a nameplate that reads “OFFICE OF THE CEO” and a sign saying “TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT ON SIGHT.”

The “beloved” Jeff G. Bailey sidles up in his ill-fitting suit just as Kendall Windham steps out, closing the door behind him. “Hey, J.G.”

“Hello, Mister Windham. Is the OTHER Mister Windham in?”

“Yeah, but he’s in a foul mood. You hear what come down from the NWA suits? They’re sayin’ we’ve gotta beat the number one contenders to the tag titles before we can get our hands on Tank and Wrenn. What in the hell is the POINT of havin’ a CEO if’n he ain’t got no authority to make matches? I mean, we’re The West Texas Rednecks for damn sakes, not two jokers outta some trainin’ camp.”

“Not so easy, is it? Yeah, everybody wants to rule the world, sigh. Lemme get my books and head on out.”

Kendall doesn’t budge. “I mean, who IS this Rage anyway? Coupla snot-nosed PUNK kids, I reckon. I’m tellin’ you WHAT, J.G. I’m gonna hurt one o’ these kids tonight, I swear ta God and Texas.”

“Yeah, you do that.” Bailey shifts one way, then jukes the other like a running back before he manages to get to the doorknob. “Well, good luck tonight.”

“Hell, son. You don’t need LUCK when you got skill and a bladder full o’ piss’n anger. I got a bit ta get good and righteously furious. You’re gonna see some RAGE tonight, I guaran-damn-tee it.”

Bailey steps into the office as Kendall Windham stomps out of frame.

(Interview: 59. Jeff G. Bailey gained a point of overness from his amusement.)

2. Todd Sexton vs. John Hennigan (f):

We cut to the ring, where “The Dragon,” Dan Wilson, is ready with introductions for our first match.

“Introducing FIRST… already in the ring… from San Antonio, Texas… weighing in at 214 pounds… Toooodd Sexton!”

Sexton takes off his black stocking cap and tosses it out to the floor, revealing his short blonde hair. He also sports a trim goatee. He paces impatiently, adjusting his elbow and knee pads. His trunks are black, three-quarter length, and sport a white “TNT” on the legs.

“And his OPPONENT…”

Neil Young’s guitar and vocals ring out over the P.A.

“There’s colors on the street

Red, white and blue

People shufflin’ their feet

People sleepin’ in their shoes

But there’s a warnin’ sign on the road ahead

There’s a lot of people sayin’ we’d be better off dead

Don’t feel like Satan, but I am to them

So I try to forget it, any way I can.

Keep on rockin’ in the free world!”

“Making his Wildside DEBUT… from Los Angeles, California… weighing 201 pounds… John Hennigaaaan!”

Dan joins broadcast partner Steven Prazak at the announce position as Hennigan hops out in black workout pants and shiny new boots. His hair is dark and closely cropped, his sideburns long but neatly trimmed to give him a GQ, Colin Farrell look.

Todd Sexton tags Hennigan with a baseball slide dropkick as he shakes hands with some of the fans at ringside. He then holds Hennigan in front of these same fans and pounds him with a series of forearms before rolling him under the bottom rope. Sexton climbs in after and uses a snapmare to set up a kick to the small of the back.

The assault on the young rookie continues with a cocky snap suplex and a lax cover for a quick one count. Sexton then sets up a back suplex that barely draws two. Sexton keeps his wrestling clinic going with a double underhook suplex, tying up both legs to get two and a half before Hennigan kicks out.

Sexton, growing impatient, steps back and motions for Hennigan to “get up and get this over with.” The rookie obliges, but ducks the telegraphed superkick and snares the leg for a capture suplex. Sexton rolls to his feet and charges in recklessly, only to run right into a spinebuster. A quick elbow drop and a hook of the leg gets two and change before Sexton can roll his shoulder.

An Irish whip plants Sexton in the corner. Hennigan hits a series of forearms to the face then tries another whip, but Sexton reverses it to heft Hennigan into a fireman’s carry position. He steps out of the corner and throws Hennigan up for a gutbuster.

Sexton hooks John Hennigan around the waist and turns him into tombstone position, but Hennigan is able to get his feet set and backdrop out. Todd Sexton clambers up, but gets blasted with a superkick from Hennigan. Hennigan heads out onto the apron, pointing to the crowd. He climbs up to the top, facing into the ring. The Shooting Star Leg Drop finds its mark, and he hooks Sexton’s leg for the easy 1… 2… 3.

As the rookie beams with pride over his first victory in Wildside, Sexton goes nuts, shouting and railing at Referee Speedy Nelson. He holds up two fingers to indicate he kicked out and practically threatens to gouge out Speedy’s eyes with them, but it’s over and done.

WINNER: John Hennigan, cleanly.

Bland match, but I'll give it a * rating for not being too bad. (O:55. C:39. M:71. John Hennigan debuted his new Blue Chipper gimmick, it got a positive response, earning him 2 points of overness. Todd Sexton gained 3 points of overness from showing up.)

3. The Sixth Seal:

After commercials, we find Alicia Webb wandering around backstage in a black baby doll tee, black capri pants, and clunky platform sandals. Her loose blonde locks whip around as she beckons with her microphone for the cameraman to keep up. Turning a corner, we see The Lost Boyz, Azrael and Gabriel, climbing a large section of chainlink fence leaned against the cinderblock wall.

“Guys? I was told you wanted to speak with me?”

“Ah,” says Azrael as he drops down off the fencing, “the angel descends, come to bear witness to the opening of the sixth seal.”

“What are you doing back here?”

“The earth will tremble, and the sun will grow black as sackcloth and the moon will turn as blood.” Azrael points up and closes his eyes. “The stars will fall from the sky, then the sky itself will vanish, and every mountain and every island will be moved from its place. Then the kings of the earth, the rich and the mighty, and all other men, slave or free, will hide themselves for the day of wrath hath come and no man can stand against it.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand…”

Gabriel drops down beside his partner. “This Sunday… Four years of Wildside… Five weeks after Arena Wars… One day of retribution… We fallen angels… avenging ourselves… avenging YOU… avenging the teeming masses… on two men TRAPPED by wrought iron and steel… BOUND within fifteen towering feet of wrath… in a STEEL CAGE. Future Shock shall not escape their final judgement.”

Together, The Lost Boyz pull down the section of chainlink fence with a crash. Gabriel lunges back into frame alongside a startled Alicia Webb. “Their fates… are SEALED.”

(Interview: 90. Alicia Webb gained 3 points of overness from her hotness.)

4. Jimmy Rave (f) vs. Smokey Carmichaels :

We cut to the ring for introductions from Dan “the Dragon” Wilson.

“Introducing FIRST… from The Underground… weighing in at 210 pounds… The Original XTC… Jimmy Raaaave!”

As a generic techno beat plays, Rave sprints down the ramp in his usual attire, slapping hands with fans and hopping around the ring.

“And his OPPONENT…”

Smokey Carmichaels races down the aisle and slides into the ring. He snatches the microphone away from “The Dragon” and begins pacing in his sleevless black shirt, black cargo pants, and combat boots. After clearing his throat directly into the microphone, he begins his rant.

“For those of you tuning in, alarmed to see a black man being given the opportunity to speak his mind… my name is Smokey Carmichaels, and I am THANKFUL to the powers that be that have afforded me this time and this opportunity. CEO Barry Windham has HONORED my requests for a worthy opponent. Sadly, this… WHITE… walking… WORKOUT… was all he could muster. I give him an A for effort and a…”

Carmichaels is cut short by a wicked knife-edge chop from Jimmy Rave. As Dan Wilson retrieves the house mic and exits the ring, a series of these chops back Smokey into a corner. A MASSIVE spinning heel kick to the jaw keeps him there until Rave can hit a monkey flip to bring him out. Jimmy then heads to the apron and up to the top rope. He leaps for a flying elbow drop, but Smokey is able to roll out of the way in time. Dan Wilson chides him for taking such a high risk so early on in the match-up.

Smokey gets to his feet and lays the boots into Rave for a bit, shouting about some perceived injustice. He hits the ropes at a clip and comes off with a running senton, leaning back to score a quick two before Jimmy Rave kicks out.

Smokey pulls Rave up by the arm and looks for a short-arm clothesline, but Rave ducks it and scores a neckbreaker from behind. He hooks a leg for a two count to keep things even. Jimmy steps through the ropes and out onto the apron. He pulls back on the top rope and slingshots himself up for a springboard elbow drop. Another cover leads to 1… 2… 3-NO! Smokey rolls his shoulder barely in time.

Jimmy Rave pushes Carmichaels flat onto his stomach and straddles him. He grabs the arms of the angry black man and scoots forward to hook up a full nelson camel clutch. Smokey struggles against it, screaming and carrying on but shaking his head to indicate he’s not giving up just yet. He eventually claws and drags his way to the ropes, but just as Jimmy Rave releases the hold, but before there’s much of a break, Smokey uses the ropes to give him the leverage for a mule kick below the belt.

Referee Speedy Nelson gives Smokey what-for, but Smokey plays it all indignant, nodding his head to indicate he “sees how it is.” He pokes Nelson in the chest, shouting some form of rhetoric, but gets shoved away by the ref. He shoves Speedy back, then Speedy retaliates with a bit more effort and the added help of Rave unwittingly on all fours behind Smokey, recovering from the low blow. Smokey stumbles and trips backward over Jimmy Rave.

Jimmy grabs Carmichaels around the calves and falls backwards to catapult him into the turnbuckles. As he staggers out of the corner, Jimmy grabs him in a front facelock and looks to score The Gravity Killer tornado DDT. Smokey has the balance, however, to keep his footing and deposits Rave on the top rope, crotching him.

Smokey backs up, telegraphing a clothesline on the howling Jimmy Rave, but Rave hugs the ropes and backdrops Smokey way up and out to the concrete floor. Jimmy holds the top rope with a deathgrip and tumbles back into the ring, where he curls up into a fetal position, protectively holding onto his manhood.

Referee Speedy Nelson quickly checks on Rave to see that he’s okay, then begins the count on Smokey. 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… Smokey stirs, getting to unsteady legs. 7… 8… Smokey staggers over to the ring apron. 9… 10. Smokey rolls into the ring, but Speedy Nelson is already calling for the bell.

Carmichaels is OUTRAGED as Speedy raises Rave’s hand in victory. He rolls out of the ring and fetches a steel chair, folding it up. Speedy bails, knowing what’s good for him, and keeps calling for the bell, presumably to signal for help. It won’t come nearly in time, as Smokey begins whaling on Rave with the chair. Eventually, he boots the helpless Jimmy Rave out of the ring and throws down the chair, storming off in his usual angry huff.

WINNER: Jimmy Rave, by countout.

Almost a ** match, but not quite - *1/2 rating. (O:57. C:37. M:78. Jimmy Rave gained 6 points of overness from this victory. Smokey Carmichaels gained 3 points of overness from his post-match antics.)

5. Insatiable Desire:

After our final commercial break, Dan is in the ring, preparing to introduce our main event when, suddenly, music interrupts over the P.A.

“What time is it? It’s time to get ill.

What time is it? It’s time to get ill.

What time is it? It’s time to get ill.”

Out struts Kid Xtacy, who dismisses the crowd with a sneer. He rolls into the ring and tries to take the microphone from Wilson, who promptly pulls it away.

“What do you want, Kid Xtacy. I’ve got a main event to announce here.”

“It’ll wait, Drag Queen. And don’t EVER call me Kid again. I am SAL DEL RIO. I’m a fully… GROWN… man. As for ecstasy… ask my very special friend. UNLIKE Destiny, she’s not a tease. This is one lady who DELIVERS the goods, if you know what I’m saying, Dan.”

He finally wrenches the microphone away from Dan Wilson. “Wait. Of course you don’t know what I’m saying. Look at you. When was the last time you had a date, Drag Queen? No, don’t answer that. With Pitcher Prozac down there beside you… I don’t want to know. In ANY event, I’m going to allow YOU and all the other hard luck schmucks in the arena tonight get a LOOK… but only I get to TOUCH… Without further ado… the lovely Desire!”

"I'm comin up so you better get this party started…

I'm comin up so you better get this party started…"

As "Get the Party Started" by Pink continues to play, out steps former Miss Galaxy finalist, Kim Nielsen, aka Desire. She sports cheerleader attire similar to Destiny's, but in white and purple rather than the black and yellow of her rival. Sal holds the ropes open for her and then paces behind her, all smiles.

“Just look at those pom-poms, Drag Queen.” She does indeed carry a pair of pom-poms, one white, one purple, and she shakes them about for emphasis. “It’s times like this when I’m happy to be a man.”

Suddenly, Rage, Mike Pittman and Scott Cage, storm the ring looking more than a little annoyed. Sal throws his hands up, indicating that he’s not looking for trouble, but his smirk says otherwise. He gingerly passes the microphone back to Dan Wilson and leads Desire away by the hand. She gives both members of Rage a glare as they depart.

(Manager Debuted By Wrestler: 59. Desire gained a point of overness from her debut. Sal del Rio gained 2 points of overness from his comedic “talents”.)

6. Rage (Mike Pittman & Scott Cage) (f) vs. The West Texas Rednecks (Barry & Kendall Windham) :

"Introducing FIRST… already in the ring… at a combined weight of 396 pounds… Scott Cage and Mike Pittman… Rrrrage!”

“Friends in Low Places” by Garth Brooks begins to play, and out march The West Texas Rednecks. They're dressed to wrestle in black and white cowboy boots, black trunks, and black leather vests. They take a bit of time sauntering around the ring before stepping over the top rope and taunting their opponents.

"And their OPPONENTS… from Sweetwater… They ARE The West Texas Rrrrednecks! This match is ONE FALL for the Number One Contendership to the Wildside Tag Team Titles. The man in charge is Speedy Nelson."

Kendall and Cage start things off. Kendall feints a lock up on the much smaller man, but hits him with a sucker punch instead. As Scott Cage reels, holding his sore jaw, Kendall scoops him up and slams him to the canvas.

He pulls Cage up by the wrist and points to his brother, laughing. An Irish whip sends Scott Cage to the ropes. Kendall catches him in a fireman's carry and throws him in a Death Valley driver. Cage is laid out on the canvas, helpless, as Kendall begins dragging him to the Rednecks' corner. He pauses, shakes his head, and then drags Cage across the ring to the Rage corner, and motions for Mike Pittman to tag himself in.

Unafraid, Pittman reaches down and tags his hurt partner. Kendall gestures for him to "bring it," and Pittman obliges by springboarding into a back heel kick that barely topples the big man. Mike goes for a quick elbow drop to follow up, but Kendall has the presence of mind to roll out of the way and to his feet. He lights Pittman up with some stiff chops, driving him to the Rednecks' territory.

A tag out to brother Barry sets up a double team. Together, they whip Pittman to the ropes, and launch him in a HIIIGH backdrop. As Kendall steps out onto the apron, Barry pulls Pittman into a standing headscissors and hits a weak, stumbling piledriver.

Scott Cage valiantly runs in to try to prevent the pin, but Barry catches him in a poor spinebuster. He barely moved, letting Cage do all the work. Rather than take the cover, Barry boots Cage out to the floor and tags his brother. Together, they measure Pittman and hit Dueling Lariats! Pittman spins, ass over elbows, and crashes to the mat. Kendall takes a lazy cover for the academic 1… 2… 3.

Suddenly, Tank and Wrenn race down the aisle, their Wildside Tag Team Titles in tow. Tank tosses Scott Cage into the ring. Scottie Wrenn, meanwhile, slides under the bottom rope and launches an already battered Mike Pittman over the top rope and into the ringside railing. Together, they take Scott Cage and press him high overhead, eventually dropping him out to the floor onto his partner.

Having handily dispatched Rage, the Tag Team Champions redirect their attention to the shocked West Texas Rednecks. Kendall is the first to show some sack, and charges Tank, only to get caught up by both gargantuans and slammed to the mat in The H Bomb! Kendall didn't get much air at all, but he's counting the lights just the same. CEO Barry Windham leaves his brother to the wolves, trying to climb over the top rope and out of the ring, but Scottie has him by a fistful of his long blonde hair.

Scottie Wrenn drags the CEO back into the ring, where he and Tank take turns battering the former NWA World Champion with rights and lefts. Wrenn hits the last shot, a blistering forearm that smashes Barry Windham flat. Tank and Wrenn gather up their belts, hold them up, and point at them, mugging for the camera as Dan "the Dragon" Wilson extols the virtues of "Wildside 5.0! Next Sunday! The Tag Team Titles WILL be on the line! Be here!"

WINNERS: And NEW #1 Contenders to the Wildside Tag Team Titles… The West Texas Rednecks, cleanly.

DUD. (O:45. C:34. M:56. Kendall Windham didn't really sell very much in this glorified squash, which hurt the match rating. Mike Pittman gained 2 points of overness from the exposure. Scott Cage gained 3 points of overness from the TV time.)

Overall Rating: 58 % (+6 %)

TV Rating: 0.38 (+0.04)

Strongest Segment: By far, Alicia Webb with The Lost Boyz. (90%. Alicia = Ratings!)

Weakest Segment: West Texas Rednecks defeat Rage, Tank & Wrenn annihilate both teams in short order. (45%)

Attendance: 151 @ $20 each (-2)

August 25, 2003

Heat Changes:

Jimmy Rave vs. Smokey Carmichaels (37 +6 = 43)

Desire will be working primarily as a valet to Sal del Rio, while she rehabs her injured back. INSERT INAPPROPRIATE JOKE HERE.

August 27, 2003

Kid Kool has sustained an ankle injury and will be out 2 months. His proposed Junior Heavyweight Title match versus former partner Sal del Rio will have to be rebooked.

Feedback, criticism, ideas, and verbal attacks are all welcome and encouraged. Thanks for reading, and we’ll see ya soon!

Have fun,

TheRay

August 17, 2003

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

NWA Wildside TV #7

NWA Wildside TV is taped LIVE at The NWA Arena in Cornelia, Georgia.

“As summer draws to a close and football season looms near, we remind you that OUR season NEVER ends. We’re just two weeks removed from our fourth anniversary show, Wildside 5.0, and you’re about to see why we’ve only gotten bigger… better… and stronger. THIS is NWA Wiiiildside!”

Thank goodness for the new Motley Crue digital remasters, because "Wildside" by arguably the greatest hair band ever is our official theme.

1. “A Few Concerns”:

After our opening credits, we find ourselves in the office of CEO Barry Windham, who’s doing a bit of redecorating. A wide sweep of his arm knocks some musty old law books from a shelf, presumably belonging to ex-CEO Jeff G. Bailey, making room for a battered six-string guitar. Barry plucks a few random notes before we hear a familiar bit of throat cleaning.

Smokey Carmichaels adjusts his tie. He wears a somber black suit with a white shirt and skinny black tie. Either he’s changed his gimmick to “Man In Black” or somebody’s died or somebody’s about to…

“Mister Windham…”

“I was going to give Bailey his books, don’t you worry. Just giving the place a little personality is all. I don’t think that never was, Rick Michaels ever even used the place.”

“I’m not here about that. I’m here because I’ve got a few concerns. Let me ask you a question… What do you, Michaels, and Bailey have in common besides being CEOs of NWA Wildside?”

“We all play guitar?”

“NO! You’re all WHITE. And that means that one thing has remained constant in my tenure here in Wildside. I have had to suffer the indignities of favoritism… racism… elitism… and now, you bring the spectre of NEPOTISM to our midst.”

“You mean Kendall? Don’t worry, he won’t get in your way.”

“Oh, but he moves right up the ladder alongside his brother now, don’t he? That’s one more white boy occupying a rung while I hold the ladder. I am not going to stand for it. Our own Television Champion, Rainman, has similar concerns. He’s, by default, the number one contender to the Heavyweight Title, but he hasn’t even been considered for a title shot.”

“Look. I don’t know what you may have heard about me… Smokey?… but I’m a fair man. Rainman should worry about DEFENDING his title before gunning for someone else’s. As for you, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Tonight, I’m going to prove to you and all the doubters out there that Barry Windham is an equal-opportunity ass-kicker. Believe THAT.”

Smokey looks angry as per usual and more than a little skeptical as he takes one of the law books under arm and marches off.

(Wrestler Has Friend’s Back: 62. Smokey Carmichaels gained 3 points of overness from his somewhat justifiable concern.)

2. Azrael (f) vs. Jay Freeze :

We cut to ringside, where Steven Prazak tells us that “In the interests of this supposed FAIRNESS that our illustrious CEO now espouses, we’ve been told that The Lost Boyz will face arch-rivals Future Shock in singles competition, with respective partners BANNED from ringside. FURTHERMORE, if a team member is caught interfering in his partner’s match, BOTH members of the team in question will be suspended INDEFINITELY. Of course, CAUGHT will be the operative word here. Let’s go to the ring and my broadcast colleague, Dan Wilson for our first set of introductions.”

“Introducing FIRST… from The Middle of Nowhere… weighing in at 225 pounds… He is one half of The Lost Boyz… THIS is Azrrrrael!”

“long way back from hell” by Danzig begins to play, and Azrael comes out in full Goth regalia, his eyes hidden behind his stringy hair. He takes off his black Danzig t-shirt emblazoned with the white goat-skull logo to reveal strange occult symbols scrawled on his chest, back, and arms with body paint. Yeah, great way to get over with the Christians, Az. As Danzig fades out, he rolls into the ring and takes a Ravenesque seat in the corner, awaiting his opponent.

“And his OPPONENT… wrestling out of Chapel Hill, North Carolina… weighing 215 pounds… He is one half of Future Shock… Jay Frrrreeeze!”

Jay jogs in place a bit before skipping down the ramp, pausing to “fix” his buzzed hair. He nods confidently at some portly ladies at ringside and taunts a few good ol’ boys with his GQ image. Eventually, he hops up the ring steps, wipes his boots on the apron, and slingshots himself into the ring.

Azrael doesn’t wait for the opening bell, scrambling up to a three-point stance and charging. Freeze is able to leapfrog him easily, and smirks arrogantly afterward. Meanwhile, Azrael has managed to put on the brakes to avoid slamming into the corner, and instead pulls himself up to the top rope. Freeze turns, only to eat a flying neckbreaker.

With Freeze splayed out in the center of the ring, Azrael rolls through and runs across to the opposite set of turnbuckles. He races up them and comes off with a diving twisting senton. He hooks the leg for 1… 2… Freeze gets his shoulder up.

Azrael pulls him up by the arm and sends him to the ropes, running to the near side for his own momentum. The two cross as Jay Freeze ducks a telegraphed clothesline, and we have another set of synchronized bounces. Freeze gets the upper hand on the next exchange as he connects with a spinning elbow to the jaw that drops Azrael.

Jay grabs him by the ankle and begins working over the hamstring with some boots and elbows. He hooks the leg and leans back for a quick two, but Azrael is able to roll his shoulder. Jay Freeze stands up, holding both ankles, and makes a show of dropping an elbow quite low. Referee Speedy Nelson gives him a stern admonishment, but Freeze has both legs hooked and is just impatiently demanding the count. Speedy counts the 1… 2… 3-NO!

Azrael sat up, getting his shoulders off the mat. Freeze hooks him around the legs and lifts, looking for a powerbomb, but a few double axehandles to the top of the head stun Freeze and let Azrael drop him in a faceplant.

Az pulls him up by the arm and tries an Irish whip, but Jay reverses, looking for a short-arm clothesline, but Azrael ducks under and rereverses into the Irish whip, which sends Jay slamming back-first into the corner. Azrael runs in and hooks Freeze around the neck, buries both boots deep in the midsection, and falls back for a monkey flip that LAUNCHES Freeze out of the corner.

Azrael takes the lateral press for 1… 2… Kick out by Jay Freeze. Azrael pulls him up by the scruff of the neck and steps in for a fireman’s carry. Death Valley driver PLANTS Jay Freeze. Az covers. 1… 2… 3-NO! Jay Freeze kicks out AGAIN!

Azrael hooks up a hammerlock, riding the resthold for a bit until Freeze makes his feet. Az then tucks his head under the arm and lifts for a HAAARD back suplex, quickly kipping up afterward. Freeze flips completely over, getting to his knees, then to his feet, only to eat a high standing dropkick that knocks him into the ropes.

Azrael charges in, but Freeze uses the ropes for balance and is able to duck and backdrop Az over the top. Az manages to skin the cat, however, but a boot to the gut stalls him on the apron. Jay Freeze takes a front facelock and looks to suplex Azrael into the ring, but he manages to drop out the back and land on his feet. He bundles Freeze into the ropes and rolls him back for a pinfall, but Freeze rolls through and grabs a double fistful of tights to get the 1… 2… 3!!

Speedy raises Jay’s hand in victory, but he jerks it away to try and wipe some of the white bodypaint off his black singlet. Behind him, Azrael gets up slowly. Freeze turns and gets clotheslined by a charging Azrael, sending both men tumbling over the top rope and to the concrete floor. They come up exchanging fists, brawling all the way up the ramp and through the curtain.

WINNER: Jay Freeze, by illegally holding the tights.

I'll give a 1/2 star rating. (O:46. C:21. M:71. Azrael lost a point of overness from his struggling gimmick. Jay Freeze, however, picked up 3 points of overness from the TV time.)

3. Gabriel (f) vs. Brandon P :

When we come back from commercials, Gabriel is already in the ring, so we don’t need to sit through a Danzig reprise.

“Introducing FIRST… already in the ring… from The Middle of Nowhere… weighing in at 210 pounds… He is one half of The Lost Boyz… THIS is Gabrrrriel!”

Though sporting brightly dyed and equally stringy red hair, Gabriel is the more babyfaced Lost Boy. He has opted to leave his Danzig shirt on, but we can still tell he’s sans body paint.

“And his OPPONENT… making his way to the ring… from Chapel Hill, North Carolina… weighing 220 pounds… He is one half of Future Shock… Brrrrandon P!”

Brandon takes a cocky strut down the ramp, fixing his elbow pads and gloves and tossing his headband before making a “1” gesture with one forefinger, a “0” gesture with the other forefinger and thumb, and then engaging in a rude gesture with both briefly before the camera cuts away to his opponent.

“Real mature,” chides Dan “the Dragon” Wilson as he joins his partner at the announce position. We get a collar-and-elbow tie-up to start things off. Brandon, with a slight size advantage, pushes Gabriel to the ropes. We get only a hint of a clean break before Brandon takes a wild swing, easily ducked by Gabriel, who pulls the ropes down for a low bridge.

Brandon P skins the cat, pulling himself up onto the apron. He grabs Gabriel around the back of the neck and drops him throat-first across the top rope. As Gabriel staggers, holding his windpipe and gasping for breath, Brandon P slingshots himself up for a very quick and crisp springboard hurricanrana, hooking Gabriel’s leg for 1… 2… Gabriel springs free.

Brandon pulls him up by the wrist and uses a high angle arm-drag to put Gabriel on the mat, but The Lost Boy kips up and reverses, then hits a basement dropkick to knock Brandon P sliding across the canvas. A kick to the ribs sets up a majistral cradle for 1… 2… Brandon kicks out strong.

An Irish whip sends Brandon P slamming into the corner. As he backpedals out, holding his chest, Gabriel runs in and hits a springboard side kick to the jaw. Nicely done. Gabriel covers with a lateral press and gets 1… 2… 2.9999. Brandon kicks out again.

Gabriel pulls Brandon up by arm and tries a hip toss, but Brandon lands on his feet. Irish whip by Brandon P is reversed, and he ends up in the turnbuckles again, back-first this time. Gabriel runs in, only to eat a raised boot from Brandon P. A drop toe hold pastes Gabriel face-first into the top turnbuckle. Brandon P rolls him up for 1… 2… Gabriel kicks out.

Brandon P hooks Gabriel around the calves and falls backward, catapulting him back into the turnbuckles. He steps out through the ropes and climbs up to the top rope. He turns Gabriel around and hooks him in an inverted facelock for a diamond dust that lays Gabriel out. Brandon P, visibly tiring, drapes his arm over his foe for 1… 2… 3-NO! Gabriel rolls his shoulder.

Brandon P pulls Gabriel up by the shirt, ripping it right off him before hitting a series of kicks to the ribs as Gabriel struggles to find his footing. A spin kick backs Gabriel up, and a series of WICKED knife-edge chops drives him to the ropes. Nope, no body paint.

Brandon whips Gabriel across. He tries a clothesline on the rebounding Lost Boy, but Gabriel ducks it easily and comes off the near side. Brandon P turns to face his foe and eats a spinning back elbow. Gabriel uses a boot to the midsection to double Brandon over and pulls him into a standing headscissors. A running powerbomb plants Brandon P, but he rolls backward with the momentum to reach the ropes and avoid a pinfall.

Brandon P begs off, but Gabriel will have none of it. He straddles Brandon and hits some bracing forearms across the face until the two tumble under the ropes and to the floor. Referee Speedy Nelson leans over the top rope, telling them to take it back in the ring.

Brandon P crawls towards the timekeeper’s table, trying desperately to get some breathing room. Gabriel chases after him, but Brandon springs up with the ring bell and BLASTS Gabriel across the face, practically stumbling and falling himself with the force of the swing. Speedy immediately calls for the disqualification, but Brandon P holds up the bell and gives him the finger.

Speedy paces the ring, flailing his arms wildly to indicate that this one is over. Jay Freeze suddenly runs down the aisle, a folded steel chair in hand. Brandon cows Speedy by throwing the ring bell into the ring and then unseats the timekeeper to take his chair. Both members of Future Shock clack their chairs on the concrete and then swing just as Gabriel makes it to wobbly legs. The con-chair-to busts him wide open and knocks him clean unconscious. Future Shock throw the chairs down with a clatter and raise each other’s arm to celebrate a victory they didn’t get. Regardless, Azrael is nowhere to be seen and Gabriel is laid out cold at their feet.

WINNER: Gabriel, by disqualification for using the ring bell.

Rating: 1/2 star. (O:50. C:26. M:74. Gabriel gained a whopping 7 points of overness from this match. Future Shock each gained 3 points of overness from the exposure.)

4. Royally Screwed:

We cut backstage, where Alicia Webb has caught up with “The Royal Stud” Adam Windsor. Windsor is in street clothes, a “royal” blue button shirt and dress slacks, his long blonde hair hanging loose on his shoulders. Alicia, meanwhile, sports a one-piece silver minidress.

Windsor bows as she approaches. “Milady.”

“Adam… Based on the official rankings from the Wildside offices, Jeremy Lopez is the number two contender to the Heavyweight Title. Any thoughts?”

“Of course. I think it’s a complete and utter outrage. Sure, he’s picked up an impressive trio of victories, but two were obtained via the undetected use of brass knuckles and the third, over yours truly, was achieved by the unsportsmanlike manipulation of my own tights. It’s not my style to gripe about such matters, but it’s hardly fair to any of the other fine competitors that Mister Lopez succeed using such underhanded tactics. IN FACT… I will see to it that this one PARTICULAR cheater… CEASES to prosper. Thank you, my dear.”

Adam lifts her hand delicately and bends down to kiss it before sauntering off.

(Interview: 77. Alicia Webb gained 3 points of overness from this segment. Adam Windsor gained a much-needed point of overness from this segment.)

5. Caprice Coleman (f) vs. Slim J :

After our final commercial break, Dan “the Dragon” Wilson is in the ring to introduce this week’s main event.

"Introducing FIRST… from Fayetteville, North Carolina… weighing in at 197 pounds… the self-proclaimed show-stoppin', crowd-poppin', body-rockin', pulse-poundin', heartbreakin', handsome-faced superstar... Caprice... ICE... Cooooleman!"

Coleman runs out and slides into the ring. A clean-cut black athlete with buzzed black hair and a pooka-shell necklace, he adjusts his elbow pads and two-tone blue tights, jogging in place and patiently awaiting his opponent.

"Introducing his OPPONENT… from Motown… Detroit, Michigan… weighing in at 189 pounds… This is the REAL Slim J!"

A generic hip-hop beat plays Slim J to the ring in his white wifebeater, baggy blue pants, and black boots. His hair is also buzzed, but bleached a pale blonde. He hops up onto the apron as the music fades and pulls back on the top rope with one hand and grabs his crotch with the other.

Coleman is undaunted, and makes the generic “come get some” gesture. Slim J steps through the ropes and gets in Coleman’s face, trying to provoke, but “Ice” is true to his name. Dan Wilson steps out, the bell rings, and we’re underway.

The two circle for a bit, feinting and dodging, until Slim J puts his hands up to request a fingerlace lock up. Slim J, showing his heelishness, drops and tries a legsweep, but Coleman smelled a trap and hops over to dodge. Slim manages to catch him anyway, with a wicked chop across the chest. A series of these back Caprice to the ropes, and an Irish whip sends him across. Slim J dances back and bounces off the near side for momentum, rolling into a back heel kick that drops Coleman to the mat. J pulls back on the top rope and uses it to spring up and out for an elbow drop to the sternum.

Caprice scrambles onto his stomach to prevent a pinfall and tries to push up onto all fours. Slim J steps back and measures a kick to the ribs, but Coleman catches it and makes his feet. Before Slim can even consider an enzuiguiri, Caprice hops into a stepover spinning heel kick, shades of RVD. Continuing the theme, he runs to the ropes and comes off with a rolling thunder senton, getting a solid two count on the subsequent pin.

Coleman takes a side headlock, trying to ground Slim. It doesn’t work for long, however, as Slim struggles up to his feet and lifts Caprice in a back suplex. He holds it and bridges for 1… 2… but he can’t keep it up and quickly rolls away to avoid getting counted down himself.

Slim hops up onto the second rope in the corner and begins taunting Coleman, telling him to “Get up, Buster! Get up and see how Slim J takes care o’bizness!” Caprice quickly obliges, walking right into the 3-6 Mafia Kick, a spinning heel kick off the second turnbuckle. Nicely done. Slim J takes a rather lax cover for 1… 2… 3-NO! Coleman kicks out.

J complains to Referee Andrew Thomas, leaving himself open to the surprise german suplex, but he flips and lands on his feet, only to eat a superkick in the mush from Caprice Coleman. Coleman grabs him by the neck and scoops him up. He presses Slim J high overhead, looking for his Thermal Shock finisher, but Slim manages to drop out the back. He spins Caprice around and hits a kick to the gut to double him over. A front facelock sets up a fisherman’s buster.

After a short moment to catch his breath, Slim J marches to the corner and climbs up to the top. He does a little taunting jig and makes a rolling gesture with his hands before leaping off in the 420 Splash! He hooks the leg for the 1… 2… 3.

After getting his hand raised in victory, Slim J takes the microphone from Dan “the Dragon” Wilson.

“Yo, yo, yo. Ice must’ve been thawed out…

Gimme a chance to shout… Left his title hopes in doubt…”

But, before Slim can kick out any more rhymes, CEO Barry Windham storms the ring with a chair, cutting him off. A VICIOUS chair shot, undoubtedly amplified by contact with the microphone, flattens Slim J.

Windham then extends a hand to help pull Caprice Coleman to his feet. Nobody falls for this ruse, as it just sets Coleman up for a hard chair shot of his own. While Dan Wilson cries “What are you doing?” Windham throws the chair down and retrieves the microphone.

“Equal opportunity. No prejudices… no bias… no remorse… no regrets. No one is immune… No one is EXEMPT… No one is safe… Dragon.” Barry hands the microphone to Wilson and claps him on the shoulder with an insufferable smirk.

WINNER: Slim J, cleanly.

Bland match, but I'll give it a * rating for not being too bad. (O:54. C:27. M:81. Caprice Coleman gained 3 points of overness from the TV time. Slim J gained 6 points of overness from the surprisingly clean victory.)

6. Blitz!:

Suddenly, Tank rushes the ring and begins laying fists into the head of our illustrious CEO, Barry Windham. Dan Wilson wisely gets the hell out of Dodge. Just as Tank backs Barry into a corner and begins taking him apart, Kendall Windham runs in to rescue his brother. Tank tries to fend him off, but eventually the numbers game wins out and The West Texas Rednecks begin laying the boots in.

As Kendall chokes Tank in the corner with his cowboy booted heel, Barry fetches the steel chair. This, of course, draws out Tank’s partner and Wildside Heavyweight Champion, “The Ticking Time Bomb” Scottie Wrenn. Wrenn slides under the ropes, and Barry turns, chair held overhead in a two-fisted grip, right into a spinebuster. He rolls out of the ring as Kendall charges out of the corner for a lariat. Scottie ducks and catches him in The Psycho Slam (spinning side slam)!

Before any more damage can be done, Barry reaches in and drags his brother out by his arm. The West Texas Rednecks quickly hightail it, Barry threatening retribution. Dan “the Dragon” Wilson takes us out. “The West Texas Rednecks are running scared. Tonight, the INMATES have certainly taken over the ASYLUM! For Steven Prazak and Alicia Webb as well as myself, thanks for joining us tonight, and we’ll see you next week for more NWA Wiiiildside!”

(Run In For Quick Partner Save: 40. Low Charisma’s killed this one. Barry Windham lost 5 points of overness from needing the save. Ouch! Scottie Wrenn gained a point of overness from his domination. Tank gained 2 points of overness from instigating this whole bru-haha.)

Overall Rating: 52 % (-1 %)

TV Rating: 0.34 (-0.02)

Strongest Segment: By far, Alicia Webb with Adam Windsor. (77%. Alicia = Ratings!)

Weakest Segment: West Texas Rednecks assault Tank, Scottie Wrenn saves. (40%)

Attendance: 153 @ $20 each (-4)

August 18, 2003

I grant Jay Freeze’s request for a push to the Lower Midcard.

Heat Changes:

Future Shock vs. The Lost Boyz (14 +20 = 34)

August 23, 2003

XPW signs WWE cast-offs Jamal and Bill DeMott. MXPW signs ultimate fighting powerhouse Bob Sapp and Duke “the Dumpster” Droese.

Feedback, criticism, ideas, and verbal attacks are all welcome and encouraged. Thanks for reading, and we’ll see ya soon!

Have fun,

TheRay

August 10, 2003

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

NWA Wildside TV #6

NWA Wildside TV is taped LIVE at The NWA Arena in Cornelia, Georgia.

“I’m Alicia Webb… On location… At the Oakland Cemetery in Atlanta, Georgia. I’m SCARED… I’m LOST… and I’m CONFUSED… but I’m certain of ONE thing… We’re on the verge of the finest hour of wrestling action available today. THIS is NWA Wiiiildside!”

Thank goodness for the new Motley Crue digital remasters, because "Wildside" by arguably the greatest hair band ever is our official theme.

1. “The Lost and the Damned”:

After our opening credits, we find the stunning Alicia Webb clutching a microphone in the darkness of a mist-shrouded cemetery. She’s wearing a white minidress with a silver choker, her blonde hair pulled back in a playful bobtail.

“Welcome to NWA Wildside,” she whispers. “I’m here in the Oakland Cemetery in Atlanta, where I had hoped to meet The Lost Boyz and have a few words with them. I don’t know how long we should wait here…”

Minding their cue, Azrael and Gabriel emerge from the shadows in full Goth regalia. They flank a visibly nervous Alicia. Azrael, the stockier and swarthier of the two, pulls the microphone to his lips.

“I’m sure you’re wondering, Dear Alicia, why we asked you to meet us here.”

“Yeah, well, it had crossed my mind.”

“Look around you. All around us… the lost and the damned. Yankee and Confederate dead… side by side… their war and hatred ended only in the eternity of the hereafter. Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. Future Shock… You claim to be the FUTURE of NWA Wildside? Fine, but remember… The Lost Boyz… Gabriel and I… We are ETERNAL… We’ve fallen from the hallowed halls of the heavens above… and risen from the fires of perdition below. There isn’t anywhere you can take us that we haven’t trod. Alicia…”

“Yes?”

“The night you arrived in Wildside, you made Gabriel and I pine for home. An angel in white…”

“Um… thank you.”

“Future Shock are short-sighted, self-centered heathens. Their behavior disgusts us. The Lost Boyz… avenging angels… We were DENIED our retribution at Arena Wars. Others sought to take up the gauntlet of justice, but it is a HEAVY burden, and many buckle under its weight. Not we. We… are declaring WAR on Future Shock. We shall bury them with the rest. We have seen their future… and as it is written… it shall be done… in BLOOD.”

The Lost Boyz fade back into the darkness, leaving Alicia alone in the mist.

(Interview: 81. Alicia Webb gained 2 points of overness from this segment, and Azrael gained 1.)

2. Jeremy V (f) vs. Slim J :

Cut across the state and to the ring, where Dan Wilson prepares the introductions for our first match. Broadcast colleague, Steven Prazak thanks Alicia Webb for braving the elements to get those comments. “We’ve got a HELLACIOUS main event tonight, as Tank has issued a challenge to Kendall Windham. It’ll be put up or shut up time for the West Texas Redneck.”

“Jeremy” by Pearl Jam begins to play, and out comes Jeremy V.

"Introducing FIRST… on his way to the ring… from Myrtle Beach, South Carolina… weighing in at 201 pounds… Jeeeeremy V!"

Jeremy walks out slowly, his long blonde hair draped over both shoulders. His wrists are wrapped with red tape and black pads protect his elbows to match his red and black tights adorned with a bold white “V”. Black boots round out the ensemble. He climbs into the ring and takes to the top turnbuckle, closing his eyes as he tilts his head back and gives the crowd a double V salute (“Live long and prosper” in Vulcan). :\

"And his OPPONENT… from Motown… Detroit, Michigan… weighing in at 189 pounds… THIS is the REAL Slim J!"

As a generic hip-hop beat plays, Slim J struts out. He hits a spin move on the way down the ramp and points out at the crowd with a condescending sneer, his head bobbing to the beat. He rolls into the ring and stands in the corner, arms folded across his chest. Dan “the Dragon” Wilson joins Prazak at ringside to call the action.

Both men circle after the opening bell. A lock up leads to Jeremy getting the advantage. He backs Slim to the ropes, but the Irish whip across is reversed by J. A standing leg lariat hits Jeremy flush in the face. Slim does a little reverse running man backpedal into the ropes and comes off with a STIFF high kick across the jaw that drops Jeremy to one knee in a hurry.

Slim hits a pair of wicked spin kicks, one from each leg to the face of Jeremy V, but he won’t stay down. Angry at this show of resilience, Slim J pulls him up by the hair and measures a right hand. Jeremy blocks and hits one of his own. Stunned, Slim J tries another punch, but it is also blocked and returned in kind. Slim switches to one of his thus-far successful kicks, only to have it caught. Jeremy throws the leg up, but Slim flips over and lands on his feet. Jeremy V leaps and hits a snappy rana, hooking Slim’s leg for 1… 2… Slim kicks out.

Jeremy takes a side headlock, and looks to run up the ropes for a bulldog, but Slim shoves him off, sending him tumbling out to the floor. Slim pulls back on the top rope and slingshots himself into a cross body to the outside!

After both men languish out on the concrete for a bit, Slim J rolls Jeremy back into the ring and follows. He hooks the leg for 1… 2… Jeremy gets his hand on the ropes to break the pinfall. Slim J rolls Jeremy throat-first onto the bottom rope, choking him with his knee in the back of the neck. Referee Andrew Thomas counts 1… 2… 3… 4… and Slim J makes the break. He pulls Jeremy up onto his shoulder in a back suplex position and bounces Jeremy’s legs off the ropes before turning and dropping him in a sit-down powerbomb for 1… 2… 3-NO! Jeremy rolls his shoulder just before the three.

Slim J slaps the mat in frustration and runs to the far side. He comes off the ropes for a baseball slide dropkick, but Jeremy V rolls out of the way, and Slim just slides through, catching himself on the bottom rope. Jeremy V hits a few stomps to the top of Slim’s head, then scoops him up for a slam. Slim drops out the back and hooks up a HAAARD back suplex.

As Jeremy V writhes on the mat, holding the back of his head, Slim J climbs the turnbuckles. He makes a rolling gesture with his hands and then leaps… connecting with the 420 Splash!!! 1… 2… 3!! It’s all over.

After being announced as the winner, Slim J takes the microphone from Dan “the Dragon” Wilson.

“Yeeeeah, that’s right…

I’ve done set my sight… on the mountaintop…

Night after night… Fight after fight…

Won’t drop… can’t STOP…

Throwin’ CLOWNS out the ring…

Until they crown me the KING…

The white MESSIAH of hip-hop.

BUUUUUUUHHHHHHHSTERRRRRRR!”

He spikes the mic and folds his arms, fixing the camera with a defiant glare.

WINNER: Slim J, cleanly.

I'll give a 1/2 star rating. (O:49. C:20. M:78. Jeremy V debuted his new Grunge gimmick, it got a positive response, earning him 5 points of overness. Slim J gained 6 points of overness from his victory.)

3. From Cheers to Tears:

When we come back from break, “The Dragon” is ready to introduce our next match, but suddenly, “Time to Get Ill” by The Beastie Boys begins to play. Kid Xtacy comes down the aisle, his head hung, presumably in shame. He climbs into the ring and asks for the microphone from Dan Wilson. He holds up his hand for the production staff to cut the music, then begins to speak.

“I’m out here to clear some things up. I did something last week that… FRANKLY… I’m ashamed of.”

“You should be,” chimes in Steven Prazak from the announce position. “He kicked his own PARTNER, Kid Kool, below the belt last week and stormed off in a huff like a spoiled child.”

“I’ve spent a few days away from everyone, doing some thinking. I guess that’s what I needed, some time alone to sort out my thoughts. I’ve got something very important to say to someone, and I’d like that someone to come out here right now. Destiny?”

After a few moments, The Head Cheerleader, Destiny, slowly walks out in her usual black and yellow shirt and skirt ensemble. Her usual pep is gone from her sneakered step, and instead, she takes a slow, despondent stroll down the ramp. “The Dragon” holds the ropes for her, and she draws up next to Kid Xtacy, who stares down at the mat, perhaps struggling to find the right words.

“Des… I’m ashamed of what I did last week. I admit it.” Destiny puts her arm around him, but he shrugs it off. “Des, I’m ashamed that I LOST. When you asked Kid Kool and I to teach Future Shock some respect, I thought we had an arrangement.”

He begins to circle her, looking her up and down. “I mean, I scratch your back, you scratch mine. We all win. But, I didn’t mean to take Future Shock lightly. They’re a tough, tough tag team. No, I didn’t think they’d be EASY… but I thought you WOULD be.”

This draws chants of “Slut! Slut!” and I think the Cornelia crowd is missing the heel turn here. Dan Wilson shakes his head, trying to convey disgust, but it isn’t working.

Kid Xtacy continues his tirade. “I mean, look at yourself, Des. What do you think people see when they look at you? Wow, she’s very athletic? Wow, what a nice, perky personality she has? Let me tell you something, Sweetheart. It’s not your personality that we find PERKY. Don’t look at me like that! I’ll slap you and Wilson both. You’ve had this coming for a long time. I’ll tell you what you ARE, Des. You’re a TEASE. You knew what you were doing all along… MANIPULATING Kool and I. Well, you may still have HIM wrapped around your manicured little finger, but not me… not no more.”

Destiny begins to sob, shaking her head, trying to explain.

“What? You say you never meant for things to be like THIS? I bet. I bet you never meant for me to figure you out. But I did, because you’re just a dumb blonde, and I’m smarter than you… smarter than Kid TOOL… smarter than Wilson and Prazak… and CERTAINLY smarter than these short bus superstars out here. Now bounce, Bitch.”

Wilson’s heard enough and rips the microphone away from Kid Xtacy. We get a bit of a shoving match, but Destiny’s had enough, and runs off, tears streaming down her cheeks. X eventually flips Wilson the bird and rolls out to head to the back.

(Heel Turn By Dumping Girlfriend: 42. Destiny gained a point of overness from her sadness. Kid Xtacy gained 2 points of overness from his heel turn.)

4. Where There’s Smoke…:

Dan “the Dragon” Wilson gets back to business, by introducing our next match.

“Introducing first…”

Smokey Carmichaels stomps out on a direct course to the ring in a sleevless black shirt, black cargo pants, and combat boots. He rolls in and jerks the microphone away from Wilson. Wilson just throws his hands up in resignation as Carmichaels clears his throat rather audibly.

“Don’t even TRY to marginalize ME, Cracker. I’ve got more important things to say than my name and weight, which… for the record… is Smokey Carmichaels and 185 pounds of black hostility. But TONIGHT… Tonight and lately, the TARGET of that hostility has been what I would call unorthodox. Onyx… You been the target of my anger because you sold out. You an Uncle Tom, my brother. I gave you a chance to stand BESIDE your black brother… beside, and a little BEHIND, sure, but we could have been a two-man army. No. Instead, you betray your heritage… betray your bonds of blood by CAVORTING with that FREAK…”

Carmichaels is cut short by the beat of “Slam” by Onyx. The man who shares the hip-hop group’s name races down the aisle, tossing his black bandanna on the go, and slides into the ring. He marches right up to Smokey, and the two stand eye-to-eye for a moment before Onyx snatches the mic away for a mild pop.

“Lemme get one thing clear right now. I ain’t CAVORTING with nobody! The Genetic Specimen is ALL about da sistahs. Ain’t a cavorting bone in THIS chiseled body. As to me sellin’ out… Just because I don’t want to be your punk, don’t mean I ain’t got pride. In FACT… let’s do this right now. I’ll show you why I got reason to be proud. Dragon?” Onyx hands the microphone back to Dan Wilson.

“His opponent… from Jamaica, Queens in The Big Apple… weighing in at 217 pounds… The Genetic Specimen… THIS… is… Onyx!”

Carmichaels is angry and indignant, stomping the mat. He’s demanding a different opponent, but Onyx just shrugs and repeats “Let’s do this.”

(Call Out And Accepted Challenge: 59. Onyx debuted his new Sucka gimmick, it got a positive response. Onyx gained 10 points of overness from this segment. Smokey Carmichaels gained 4 points of overness from this segment.)

5. Smokey Carmichaels vs. Onyx (f):

After Wilson heads down the announce position, Smokey pulls the “on MY time” card and tries to follow, but Onyx spins him ‘round. A STIFF high kick catches Smokey on the jaw. Without squaring his stance, Onyx snaps off a second kick to the midsection, doubling Smokey over.

Onyx steps into a standing headscissors and hooks Smokey around the waist, but Smokey gets his footing and backdrops out. He catches Onyx coming up with a knee to the side of the head and follows it up with a series of elbows to the back of the neck.

Smokey pulls him up and tries an Irish whip, but it’s reversed, and Smokey collides with Referee Speedy Nelson. He backs up, stutter-steps, and hits a VICIOUS superkick to the teeth of Onyx that drops him like a gunshot. Smokey takes a lateral press, but gets up, hands on hips in disgust as Speedy is still on hands and knees trying to get his bearings.

Smokey rolls to the outside and grabs the headset off of Steven Prazak, who responds with a “Hey!” before he’s cut off.

“See?! Can you believe this OBVIOUS display of favoritism. I know this ploy. I turn my back on the Uncle Tom, and true to his name, Speedy makes a SPEEDY recovery and makes the fast count after I’m attacked from behind. Well, Smokey don’t play dat! Speedy can kiss my ass. So can you, Dragon-Cracker, and so can Onyx.”

Speak of the devil, Onyx has rolled out and Smokey dumps the headset to take a swing at him. Onyx ducks the wild right and comes up with a spin kick that knocks Smokey into the laps of our announce team with a clatter. Onyx climbs up onto the announce table and hits a shining wizard-style kick that knocks Smokey into the railing behind the announce position. Onyx drags Smokey free of all the wires and equipment and rolls him into the ring as Speedy Nelson finally recovers. Onyx climbs in and takes the lateral press for 1… 2… Smokey gets his leg on the ropes to break the count.

Onyx picks Smokey up by the scruff of the neck and hits a knee to the midsection before hooking up a double chickenwing. A tiger suplex takes Smokey over, and Onyx bridges for 1… 2… 3-NO! Close fall, but Smokey manages to spring free.

Onyx kips up as Smokey rolls to his feet and tries a standing dropkick, but Smokey backs into the ropes and hooks them with his arms to dodge. He bounces off and hits a running senton, rolling through for a quebrada off the opposite ropes that gets a 1… 2… 2.9999. Onyx rolls his shoulder.

Smokey Carmichaels pulls him up by the arm and sends him to the ropes. Smokey telegraphs the backdrop and eats a boot to the mush for his trouble. Blaq Out DDT! Onyx covers, but Referee Speedy Nelson’s been dragged out of the ring… by Lazarus, who rolls into the ring! Onyx gets up, wondering what gives, and eats The Brittany Spear!! As Onyx clutches his ribs, Lazarus blows him a bitter kiss and then backs up the ramp, trying to draw heat.

Meanwhile, Speedy Nelson is at the timekeeper’s table, calling for the bell. Smokey Carmichaels, groggy but aware, rolls out to the floor and shoves Nelson. Speedy is calling for the disqualification. Smokey is irate, claiming he had NOTHING to do with Lazarus. Speedy isn’t budging. His decision’s been made, but it’s a costly one, as Smokey drops him in a DDT on the concrete floor. Security swarms the area, ejecting a shouting Smokey Carmichaels and checking on a writhing Speedy Nelson.

WINNER: Onyx, by disqualification due to interference from Lazarus.

It was close to a ** match, but one too many tired spots knocks it down to a *1/2 rating. (O:57. C:35. M:80. Lazarus gained a point of overness from his interference.)

6. Tank w/Scottie Wrenn (f) vs. Kendall Windham :

When we return from our last break, the man in charge is Referee Andrew Thomas. Dan “the Dragon” Wilson is ready with the main event introductions.

“Introducing FIRST… accompanied to the ring by his fellow NWA Wildside Tag Team Titleholder and NWA Wildside Heavyweight Champion, Scottie Wrenn… weighing in at 280 pounds… from Union Beach, New Jersey… please welcome Taaaank!”

Tank lumbers out, smoothing his thick, handlebar moustache with one hand, holding his sickle aloft with the other. Steven Prazak reminds us that this is NOT a hardcore match. The champ, Scottie Wrenn, holds one title belt on each shoulder, leaning back to show them off as he wanders ringside.

“And his OPPONENT… weighing 260 pounds… from Sweetwater, Texas… Kendall Wiiiiindham!”

Garth Brooks’ “Friends in Low Places” plays as Windham strides out, his look owing more than a little to a certain “Rattlesnake.” A black cowboy hat covers his thinning blonde hair, a brown goatee adorns his chin, and a sinister smile curls his lips. He wears a black leather vest, elbow pads, fingerless gloves, blue jeans, and suede cowboy boots. It looks like hardcore match attire. He steps over the top rope and into the ring.

As Andrew Thomas struggles to wrest the sickle away from Tank, Kendall tosses the cowboy hat and blitzes him with some right hands. He eventually backs Tank into a corner, just peppering his bald skull with jabs. An Irish whip sends Tank across into the opposite set of turnbuckles with a thud. As he staggers back out, Kendall spins him around and hits a slow, ponderous neckbreaker.

Tank struggles up to one knee as Windham climbs to the second turnbuckle. A diving clothesline glances Tank, but takes him down to the mat. Kendall, all smiles and taunting directed at Scottie Wrenn, hooks up a rear chinlock on the massive Tank. With some support from a quickly angering Scottie Wrenn but none from the apathetic fans, Tank gets up to a crouch. This causes Kendall to switch to a sleeperhold. Tank makes it to unsteady legs, but finds the grit to barrel backwards, crushing Kendall in the corner.

Tank steps out, turns, and hits a sloppy clothesline/avalanche on Kendall, then takes him out of the corner with a very Windham bulldog. He rolls Kendall over and takes a lateral press for 1… 2… Strong kickout by Windham.

Tank gets up and backs into the ropes, coming off for a splash, but Kendall gets his knees up. Tank staggers about, holding his aching gut, as Kendall scrambles up to a three-point stance. A spear DRILLS Tank. Kendall hooks the leg deep for 1… 2… Tank shrugs him off.

Kendall can’t believe it. He pulls Tank up brusquely by the arm and sends him to the ropes. MASSIVE lariat surely spells the end for Tank. Kendall takes a lateral press for 1… 2… 3-NO! SOMEHOW, Tank rolled his shoulder and is already on his way up.

Kendall puts the boots to Tank, but it isn’t slowing the big man down. As Tank gets to a vertical base, Kendall switches to the fists, but Tank starts retaliating in kind. Gradually, Tank is getting the upper hand, hitting soupbones to the ribs of Kendall Windham.

Tank pulls Kendall into a standing headscissors and hooks him around the waist, lifting for a powerbomb, but Kendall drops down onto his feet and hits a boot to the gut of Tank. He looks for a stunner, but Tank shoves him off and through the ropes to the floor at Scottie Wrenn’s feet.

As The Heavyweight Champion looms over Kendall Windham, Referee Andrew Thomas leans over the ropes to issue a warning and begin the countout. The fans groan and gripe as CEO Barry Windham sprints down the aisle and slides into the ring. Tank turns around and gets LEVELED by The Lariat!!!

He slides back out of the ring before Thomas can see him, but with his vantage point, Scottie Wrenn saw the cheap shot and gives chase. Windham isn’t burdened with two title belts, so he gains easy ground on the champ. Meanwhile, Kendall has managed to climb back into the ring at the count of eight and drags himself over top of the fallen Tank. Thomas counts the 1… 2… 3.

Barry slides into the ring, and the two West Texas Rednecks start laying cowboy boots into Tank until “The Ticking Time Bomb” storms the ring, swinging both belts. The Rednecks back up the ramp, pointing at Wrenn and listening to their wrists to mock him.

“They’re telling Scottie Wrenn that his time’s about up! Unfortunately, so is ours. For Steven Prazak, Alicia Webb, and the rest of NWA Wildside, good night!”

WINNER: Kendall Windham, because of undetected interference from Barry Windham.

Slap a DUD on it, move on. (O:44. C:23. M:66. Tank gained 2 points of overness from this match. Kendall Windham gained 6 points of overness from his tainted victory.)

Overall Rating: 53 % (-9 %)

TV Rating: 0.36 (-0.03)

Strongest Segment: By far, Alicia Webb with The Lost Boyz. (81%. Alicia = Ratings!)

Weakest Segments: Kid Xtacy dumping Destiny. (42%)

Attendance: 157 @ $20 each (-3)

August 15, 2003

Martin Marin has taken control of cZw. Adam Flash, Danny Rose, GQ, Lobo, Z-Barr, Jon Dahmer, Nick Berk, Ian Knoxx, Chris Cash, B-Boy, Derek Frazier, The Dew, Big Mac Smack, and Cory Kastle are all gone. They sign Rodney Mack, Webb, Richard Slinger, Lodi, Hayabusa (?! Apparently, his injury isn’t reflected in the game), BJ Payne, Tony Givens, Tomoaki Honma, and Prince Iaukea. Looks like competition’s heating up.

August 16, 2003

The cZw signings continue. Matt Cappotelli, The Damaja, Rene Dupree, Mr. Gannosuke, and Alan Funk join the revolution. Gannosuke/Hayabusa could be awesome in cZw.

Feedback, criticism, ideas, and verbal attacks are all welcome and encouraged. Thanks for reading, and we’ll see ya soon!

Have fun,

TheRay

from nwa-wildside.com

Wildside Rankings

Official Wildside Rankings for the month of July, 2003

National Wrestling Alliance BOD Champions:

NWA World Champion: “The Phenomenal” AJ Styles

NWA World Tag Team Champions: America’s Most Wanted (Chris Harris and James Storm)

NWA X Division Champion: “PrimeTime” Elix Skipper

NWA World Jr. Heavyweight Champion: Rocky Reynolds

NWA North American Champion: Hotstuff Hernandez

NWA Wildside Heavyweight Champion: “The Ticking Time Bomb” Scottie Wrenn – 275 lbs. Charlotte, NC

1) “The Soul Assassin” Rainman – 221 lbs. The Dark City (Wildside World TV Champion)

2) Iceberg – 600 lbs. Places Men Fear To Tread

3) Jeremy Lopez – 187 lbs. Tampa, FL

4) Smokey Carmichaels – 185 lbs. Harlem, NY

5) Barry Windham – 275 lbs. Sweetwater, TX

6) Lazarus – 183 lbs. Kentwood, LA

7) “The Genetic Specimen” Onyx – 217 lbs. Jamaica City, Queens, NY

8) “The Royal Stud” Adam Windsor – 214 lbs. Coventry, England

9) “The Chosen One” Rick Michaels – 205 lbs. Atlanta, GA

10) Tank – 280 lbs. Union Beach, NJ

NWA Wildside Tag Team Champions: Tank and Scottie Wrenn – Combined 555 lbs., Union Beach, NJ and Charlotte, NC

1) Rage (Mike Pittman and Scott Cage) – Combined 396 lbs., Atlantic City, NJ and Ft. Lauderdale, FL

2) Future Shock (Brandon P and Jay Freeze) – Combined 435 lbs., Chapel Hill, NC

3) G-Rated (Kid Kool and Kid Xtacy) – Combined 363 lbs., Every Girl’s Fantasy

4) The Lost Boyz (Azrael and Gabriel) – Combined 444 lbs., The Middle Of Nowhere

5) Firebird (John Phoenix) and Iceberg – Combined 830 lbs., Atlanta, GA and Places Men Fear To Tread

NWA Wildside Jr. Heavyweight Champion: Kid Xtacy – 183 lbs. Every Girl’s Fantasy

1) Kid Kool – 180 lbs. Every Girl’s Fantasy

2) Gabriel – 207 lbs. The Middle Of Nowhere

3) Scott Cage – 206 lbs. Ft. Lauderdale, FL

4) “The Real” Slim J – 189 lbs. Detroit, MI

5) Jeremy V – 190 lbs. Myrtle Beach, SC

Rankings Analysis:

- Although there are no weight restrictions on contenders to the NWA Wildside Heavyweight Championship, a number of contenders would truly be classified as junior heavyweights and are at a considerable weight disadvantage.

July 27, 2003

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

Arena Wars

Arena Wars is held LIVE at The Athens Arena in Athens, Georgia.

1. G-Rated (Kid Kool and Kid Xtacy) w/Destiny (f) vs. Future Shock (Jay Freeze and Brandon P) :

The show opens with the growling voice of ring announcer Dan “The Dragon” Wilson introducing our first match.

"Introducing FIRST… accompanied by The Head Cheerleader, Destiny… from Every Girl's Fantasy… at a combined weight of 315 pounds… Kid Kool and Kid Xtacy… G-Raaaated!"

Kid Kool and Kid Xtacy sprint down the ramp and slide under the bottom ropes, taking up positions on opposite sets of turnbuckles to point out at the crowd. Destiny, meanwhile, takes her time swinging her leg into the ring, flaring up her black and yellow skirt, hopping around and clapping, generally showing enthusiasm. Her motivational techniques are lost on the crowd, however.

“And their opponents … from Chapel Hill, North Carolina… at a combined weight of 435 pounds… Brandon P and Jay Freeze… Fuuuuture Shock!”

After the introductions, Dan “the Dragon” Wilson joins his broadcast partner at the announce position. Future Shock come out, and Brandon P is seemingly holding partner Jay Freeze back. They take a stroll around the ring, eventually making their way over to Destiny, where she cowers near the timekeeper’s position. Brandon P seems to be playing peacemaker, holding his hands up and generally trying to get Destiny to listen to some kind of verbage.

This draws Kid Kool out, sliding to the floor, and he spins Jay Freeze around, only to get BLASTED in the face with the ring bell. Brandon P grabs Destiny by the hair and points to the timekeeper’s table as Jay Freeze steps into a standing headscissors on Kid Kool. Kid Xtacy tries to slide out to the rescue, but Brandon P pushes Destiny stumbling in the way. Jay Freeze lifts Kid Kool onto his shoulders… and Brandon P helps spike powerbomb him through the timekeeper’s table.

Kid Xtacy sees Destiny to safety, then starts laying fists into the head of Jay Freeze, but Brandon P blindsides him with a folded steel chair (presumably the timekeeper’s). Jay Freeze gets his senses and hooks Kid Xtacy’s arms behind him, leaving him wide open to another pair of blistering chair shots.

Destiny is screaming like a banshee, looking to Referee Speedy Nelson for support, but he’s already signaling for security. She fetches a steel chair of her own and rushes to her team’s defense, but Jay Freeze sees her coming and simply dumps a bloody Kid Xtacy on the floor to rip the chair out of her grasp.

He threatens her with the chair as paramedics and security storm ringside.

(Tag Assault Needs Paramedics: 44. Future Shock each gained 5 points of overness from their brutality. G-Rated each gained 3 points of overness from taking a whooping.)

2. A Change of Plans:

Guns N’Roses’ cover of “Hair of the Dog” begins to play…

”Now you’re messing with a… a son of a… Now you’re messing with a son of a bitch!”

…and out walks The Chosen Executive One, Rick Michaels. He’s in street clothes, with a grey polo shirt, black dress slacks, and shoes. He’s got a mic in hand, and is more than a little upset.

“Hey! Brandon P… Jay Freeze… You two think you have much of a FUTURE pulling stunts like that? You guys want to show you’re tough? You want respect? Well, I’ll give you a SECOND chance to earn it tonight… Fellas?”

We switch musical gears, and now Danzig croons about the “long way back from hell,” signaling the arrival of The Lost Boyz, Azrael and Gabriel. Okay, this makes four introductions and no matches thus far. The natives are getting restless.

The Lost Boyz, along with their mentor, have come to the rescue, but Jay Freeze is holding Destiny by the wrist and Brandon P’s still got a threatening grip on that chair. The officials have seen G-Rated to safety, however.

An all too familiar voice interrupts. “Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, gentlemen.”

(Authority Books 2 vs. 2: 40. Rick Michaels gained 3 points of overness from his promise of a match sometime tonight.)

3. Wanted Man:

The voice belongs to Jeff G. Bailey, and the entrance count is now up to five, but who’s counting?

“You like calling the shots around here, don’t you, Sheriff? Trust me, it looks easy, but it’s not. You’re constantly faced with difficult decisions, aren’t you, Rick? I remember. Well, I know a certain someone… a certain former NWA World Champion… someone who’s been to the very TOP of this business… who would like to question your authority.”

Richie Samborra’s mournful guitar begins to play the intro to Bon Jovi’s “Wanted: Dead or Alive.” It’s hairbandapalooza tonight. The house lights dim and a spotlight picks out a tall figure on the ramp, sporting a cowboy hat and a floor-length black duster, his head bowed, long hair framing his face.

“Allow me to introduce a TRUE Texas outlaw… Barry Windham!”

Windham stalks down the aisle. He climbs up onto the ring apron and steps over the top rope to come over and shake Bailey’s hand. He takes the microphone from Bailey, his hands clad in fingerless black leather gloves. His fingers tap out a little rhythm on the microphone before he speaks.

“Rick Michaels… I just have one question for you, Son. Who in the HELL do you think you are?” This draws some decent heat, and Jeff G. Bailey nods his approval. “I mean, REALLY. Let me know, because I don’t have the first clue. I look around here and I see recognition in the eyes of these dullards.” The crowd jeers this cheap shot. “I mean, really. I could rattle off a list of my accomplishments, but I think it’d be pretty unnecessary. Suffice it to say, I was winning the NWA World Title before you were old enough to drink beer. You can’t be a has-been, Son, if you never WERE. But, hey, YOU’RE the guy in charge here.”

Windham points an accusing finger at The Lost Boyz, who now have their attention split between the threat in the ring and the threat at the timekeeper’s position. “You’ve got a few kids you’ve taught a thing or two, and I understand you’re not healthy enough to mix it up in the ring anymore. So my friend Mister Bailey tells me you’ve decided to linger around a bit. Try your hand at being the big dog. Well, it don’t mean sh*t if you can’t back it up, Son.”

Windham takes a pensive stroll around the ring, settling into his role. “You know, down in Texas, when we have a stallion who just can’t cut it anymore… when he can’t do his job… we take a rifle off the rack, we march up to that hoss, and we SHOOT him dead. His good-for-nothing ass becomes glue, turn a liability into an asset. That’s all you can do.”

Barry shakes his head, noticing the crowd starting to drift. “That’s what I’m here to do, Rick. It’s put up or shut up time. You don’t have much I want. I won’t even put a notch in my belt for beating your ass, I think too highly of my belt, but I’ll tell ya what. I’m willing to give you a chance to go out fighting. If you think you’ve got it in you, I’ll take you on. You win, I’m gone… and I’ll take Mister Bailey with me. Lifetime ban. Outta here.”

Bailey does a double take on this. Obviously it wasn’t part of the plan. “BUT… if I win, you’re out as CEO. You resign the position and I get to pick your successor. Mister Bailey’ll draw up the paperwork. We sign off, you sign off, Bill Behrens signs off, and it’s a done deal. Whaddaya say? You got the sack?”

The Lost Boyz shake their heads, trying to get Rick Michaels to listen to reason. He’s got nothing to prove, yadda-yadda-yadda.

“I’ve already WON this position as The Chosen Executive One…” The Lost Boyz nod. “I’ve already PROVEN that I deserve it by bringing some fairness and justice to Wildside… two things we hadn’t had here in a long time…” The Lost Boyz nod again. “BUT, I doesn’t mean anything if I can’t KEEP it. And, if it means I have to put my body on the line… ONE… MORE… TIME… against a former NWA World Champion… so be it, because PAIN is temporary… GLORY is forever.”

Jeff G. Bailey is ecstatic. Windham just sneers. “Good. You’ve got the GUTS, I’ll give you that, but the GLORY… it don’t come easy, Son, not nearly as easy as the PAIN. I’ll see you later and leave your boys to their business. It just might be the last official act of CEO Rick Michaels.” Bailey and Barry depart. Rick Michaels regains his focus and sees to it that Future Shock are shown into the ring by security.

(Singles Debut As Ally:65. Jeff G. Bailey gained a point of overness from his nuanced performance.)

4. Future Shock (Jay Freeze and Brandon P) vs. The Lost Boyz (Azrael and Gabriel) (f):

We’re without introductions here, but thank goodness. Let’s quit laying tape for next week and get to the action! There’s a moment of bush-league tomfoolery until someone realizes the ring bell is out on the floor and retrieves it to get this one started with a ding-ding.

It’ll be Gabriel and Jay Freeze to start with some quick circling. Freeze feints, ducking into a drop toehold to put Gabriel on the mat before scooting up to a side headlock. Gabriel slaps the arm as he gets to his feet, Azrael shouting encouragement from the apron. He eventually makes his way up and shoots Freeze off to the ropes. A backdrop gives Jay Freeze some good vertical ups, but he comes down on his feet. He looks for a back suplex, but Gabriel spins on his shoulder to come down in a driven DDT.

Gabriel kips up and races to the ropes as Freeze makes his feet. Gabriel comes off with a flying reverse elbow that drops Jay Freeze. He hooks the leg for 1… 2… Brandon P is in to break up the pinfall. As Referee Speedy Nelson sees Brandon back out to the apron, Gabriel tags Azrael in.

The Lost Boyz double team, whipping Freeze into the ropes to set up a double back elbow. Gabriel hooks him around the calves as Azrael climbs up onto the second turnbuckles, and Brandon P isn’t doing his partner any favors by protesting with Speedy Nelson. Gabriel falls back for a catapult that launches Jay Freeze into a second rope flying axehandle. Azrael hooks the leg as Gabriel steps out. Speedy Nelson slides over to count the 1… 2… Jay Freeze gets his other leg on the ropes.

Az pulls him up by the arm and sends him into the ropes. A standing dropkick is right on the money. Azrael backs into the ropes and leaps into what would be a high-elevation knee drop if Freeze didn’t roll out of the way in the nick of time. Freeze snares both arms in a double chickenwing and suplexes Azrael over. This buys him the time he needs to roll for the tag to Brandon P.

Azrael’s up and charges the corner, but Brandon P jumps up into a huracanrana that takes Az down. Brandon P goes for an Irish whip, but Azrael reverses it. He catches Brandon P on the rebound into a fireman’s carry, perhaps setting up a DVD for Fallen Arcadia, but Brandon P twists into a tornado DDT that drills Azrael.

Azrael plays the face-in-peril for a bit as Brandon P puts him in a single leg Boston crab. Gabriel does a stomp the mat bit, trying to rally the crowd, but “Boooring! Boooring!” isn’t exactly what he’s looking for. :\ Az eventually claws his way over to Gabriel for the hot tag.

Brandon P relinquishes the hold and tries to backpedal, but it’s too little too late and Gabriel slingshots himself over the top rope and stutter-steps into a superkick. Brandon P begins crawling over toward his own corner, but Gabriel catches him by the arm and jerks him to his feet. A short-arm whip sets up a facebuster (showing the Rick Michaels’ influence), and Brandon P flies back to land flat on his back. Gabriel takes the lateral press for 1… 2… 3-NO! Brandon kicks out at the last split second just as his partner is in for what would have been the save.

Gabriel slugs it out with Jay Freeze, driving him back, but leaving himself open to a couple of forearm shots to the back. Brandon P spins him around as Jay Freeze holds the arms… superkick connects. Suddenly, Kid Kool slides into the ring with a chair and blindsides Brandon P. Jay Freeze tries pushing Gabriel into harm’s way, but the Lost Boy ducks under, and Jay Freeze gets dropped as well.

Referee Speedy Nelson reluctantly calls for the bell, shaking his head in disgust. It’s a sentiment shared by the crowd, who are less than pleased with this long delayed, unhyped, and overbooked opening match. The Lost Boyz grab Future Shock and launch them over the top and to the floor, then take up positions flanking Kid Kool. It looks like trouble in paradise, but nothing more than angry glares are exchanged as The Lost Boyz slowly depart and Future Shock flees.

WINNERS: Future Shock, by disqualification after chair shots from Kid Kool.

Nothing worth seeing here, I'll give a 1/2 star rating because I'm generous. (O:48. C:23. Ouch! M:74. Brandon P gained an additional point of overness from taking the blindside chair shot like a champ. Azrael lost a point of overness principally due to his Occult gimmick, but Gabriel gained 3 from being the less lost Boy.)

5. Jeremy Lopez vs. Adam Windsor (f):

“Introducing FIRST… representing The Malenko Dojo… from Tampa, Florida… weighing in at 187 pounds… Jeremy Loooopez!”

Jeremy Lopez struts down the aisle, shaking a bottle of water over his long brown hair, slicking it back. He tosses the bottle and rolls into the ring to bounce for a bit and test the ropes. A cocky sneer is fixed on his lips.

“And his OPPONENT… representing The Funking Conservatory… from Coventry, England… royally bred of royal blood… THIS is The Royal Stud… Adam Wiiiindsor!”

“Pomp and Circumstance” begins to play, and Windsor takes his time coming down the ramp in his blue velvet robe with red, white, and blue sequins. He steps up the ring steps and prepares to enter the ring, only to get ambushed early by Jer-Lo, who knocks him off the apron with a spinning back kick.

Lopez drops out to the floor to pursue, and Referee Andrew Thomas calls for the opening bell. Jeremy rips the robe off of Windsor and grabs him by the hair to ram his head into the ring apron, but Adam blocks. He blocks a second attempt and hits an elbow to the face to break things up. Adam kips up onto the apron and spins in a standing leg lariat that knocks Lopez to the ringside railing.

Referee Andrew Thomas is shouting for both men to take it into the ring, threatening a double countout. Adam nods in understanding and obeys, rolling Lopez in under the bottom rope. He climbs in after and hauls Jeremy up by the arm. An Irish whip sends Lopez to the ropes, and Windsor bounces off the near side for momentum. Lopez ducks a running clothesline, and Andrew Thomas gets run over by “The Royal Stud.”

Lopez, still in a crouch, eats a back heel kick off the second rope. Windsor covers, but Thomas is too stunned to make the count. Windsor pulls Lopez up and sends him to the ropes again, repeating the running clothesline spot, and Lopez ducks AGAIN, but at least Andrew Thomas isn’t in the way this time. They come off opposing sets of ropes, and Jer-Lo leaps into a flying neckbreaker that takes Adam Windsor down.

Jeremy is slick enough to check on the ref, helping him up to his feet and dusting him off. Meanwhile, behind him, Adam Windsor is getting to his own feet, but the crowd isn’t exactly rapt in anticipation. Without looking behind him, Lopez steps back into a superkick that was right on the money. Windsor drops like he’s been shot, and Jeremy is quick to take the lateral press. Andrew Thomas is Johnny-on-the-spot to count the fall… 1… 2… Kickout by Windsor.

Jeremy gets up and runs to the ropes, coming off with a baseball slide dropkick to the face. Another cover gets 1… 2… 2.999999999! Windsor rolls his shoulder. Lopez grabs Windsor by the ankle and makes a rolling gesture with his arm, indicating some kind of submission hold. Given that this is a “Battle of the Dojos,” and Lopez was trained by Dean Malenko, my money’s on a Texas cloverleaf. Any speculation is moot, however, as when Jeremy turns the leg, Windsor boots him off to break it up.

Adam Windsor scrambles to his feet and charges for a rolling elbow, shades of his opponent here. Windsor takes a lateral press for 1… 2… 3-NO! Jeremy kicks out strong. Windsor pulls him up by the scruff of the neck and measures a right hand, but Lopez blocks it. Windsor snags the wrist and spins behind, taking a hammerlock. He bundles Lopez into the ropes, switching to a rear waistlock, and rolls back into a pinning position… but Jer-Lo rolls through! Jeremy takes a double fistful of Union Jack tights for leverage and scores the 1… 2… 3!

As Jeremy Lopez gets his hand raised in tainted victory, Adam Windsor doth protest, indicating the pulled tights to Referee Andrew Thomas. Lopez hits Windsor with a cheap shot fist to the temple, and that leads to an exchange of fisticuffs. Clubbering sees the two battle to the ropes, and a clothesline take Lopez over the top and to the outside. Windsor follows, and lifts Lopez up to drop him throat-first across the railing. Now, it’s Jeremy Lopez trying to flee through the crowd as Windsor pursues, and nobody even pats Adam on the back. That’s just sad.

WINNER: Jeremy Lopez, by cheating (pulling the tights).

I'm going to give this a ** rating because I'm in a generous mood. (O:63. C:47. M:79. Jeremy Lopez lost a point of overness. Adam Windsor lost 2 points of overness. The fans REALLY aren’t identifying with someone “royally bred of royal blood.” I guess they’re too conditioned by the likes of Regal to boo the British.)

6. Scottie Wrenn w/Tank (f) vs. Iceberg =0= w/Jeff G. Bailey for the NWA:W Heavyweight Title:

“Introducing FIRST, the challenger… accompanied to the ring by his fellow NWA Wildside Tag Team Titleholder Tank … weighing in at 275 pounds… from Charlotte, North Carolina… The Ticking Time Bomb… Scottie Wrrrrenn!”

Scottie Wrenn comes out howling and slapping his own chest with his hands clad in red fingerless gloves. He rips the blue bandanna off his head and tosses it carelessly. Tank follows close behind, his sickle in hand. Wrenn climbs into the ring and does a bit of Warrior-style rope shaking, but the crowd isn’t buying it. Athens, Georgia, the Montreal of the south…

“The CHAMPION… representing Jeff G. Bailey’s NWA Elite… he weighs in at 600 pounds… from Places Men Fear to Tread… Never?… Pinned LAST WEEK by the challenger… Make way for The No Pain Train… Iiiiceberg!”

Iceberg stomps out, but Jeff G. Bailey carries the title. It’s surprising he isn’t wearing it around his waist, actually. The ‘Berg holds the ropes for Bailey, who makes a beeline for Dan “the Dragon” Wilson. He’s obviously irate about the sudden change from the “never pinned” descriptive, but he’s not miked, so it’s all for naught. Wilson eventually retreats to ringside, meanwhile Scottie Wrenn is checking his wrist, holding it to his ear in a wristwatch pantomime. He wags his finger in a tick-tock gesture, then explodes into the champion, hitting a headbutt, then some rights and lefts.

Bailey climbs out, all a-panic, taking the Heavyweight Title with him, as Iceberg is actually reeling to the ropes. A BIIIG clothesline threatens to knock Iceberg over the top rope, and Bailey does a good job of begging off in the shadow of the big man. ‘Berg lands on his feet in the ring, however, only to get sent to the far side with an Irish whip. Wrenn catches him with a hip toss that gets modest air.

Iceberg rolls to his feet, only to get caught for another hip toss, but he’s able to reverse and it’s Scottie Wrenn’s turn to go ass over elbows. Iceberg doesn’t wait for him to get up, hitting a big boot to the head as Wrenn struggles to all fours.

“The No Pain Train” lifts Wrenn up in a side headlock and drags him to the corner. He grabs Scottie by the base of the neck and the waistband of his baggy black pants, and launches him shoulder-first through the turnbuckles and into the ring post. A simple schoolboy roll-up puts Wrenn down for a solid two before he kicks out.

Iceberg straddles him and hits a few bracing forearms to the face, then backs into the ropes, where Jeff G. Bailey is jumping up and down with glee. Iceberg leaps for The Ground Zero Splash, but Wrenn rolls out of the way to leave a Splat! on the canvas. He pulls Iceberg up by the neck and grabs him in a waistlock to pivot into a belly-to-belly suplex. A flexing lateral press gets 1… 2… Iceberg shrugs Scottie Wrenn off.

Scottie grabs him by the neck again and pulls him into a standing headscissors. He hooks Iceberg around the waist and… are we going to see a 600-pound powerbomb here? Uh, no. All that build-up for a piledriver that dumps Iceberg on the mat like a beached whale. Another flexing lateral press gets 1… 2… 3-NO! Iceberg kicks out, but not nearly as strong as last time.

Wrenn pulls Iceberg up and sends him to the ropes. Wrenn backs into the ropes and comes off for a running clothesline, but Iceberg sidesteps and grabs the arm, spinning the challenger around. Right hand by Iceberg tags Scottie Wrenn. Iceberg still has hold of the arm, and practically rips it out of the socket. A couple of elbows and more pulling soften the arm up. There’s actually some strategy at play, as that’s the same shoulder he smashed into the ring post earlier, but nobody seems to care. The rest hold fest continues for some time, leading to chants of “Boooring! Boooring!”

Wrenn, howling in pain, hits a desperation elbow to the side of the head to break free. A knee to the gut staggers the champ, buying him some more time. Wrenn sends him to the ropes, slapping his own shoulder as he awaits the rebound to stave off the pain. He catches Iceberg… Psycho Slam!!! Spinning side slam shakes the ring, literally. Scottie Wrenn winces in pain as he hooks the leg with his one good arm… 1… 2… 3!!

Jeff G. Bailey can’t believe it. He refuses to relinquish the title belt. Tank approaches, sickle held threateningly, but Bailey… bails, backpedaling up the ramp, shaking his head in denial. Iceberg, meanwhile, has got Referee Andrew Thomas in a chokehold, shaking him like a rag doll. Scottie Wrenn rolls out to the floor to meet his partner, and they race off in pursuit of Jeff G. Bailey.

The bell rings furiously until security and officials swarm the ring and pull Iceberg off of Thomas. The ‘Berg tosses some Wildside trainees… er, officials… around for a bit before getting marched to the back enraged.

Once order is restored, Dan “the Dragon” Wilson announces the “NEW… Wildside Heavyweight Champion… Scottie Wrrrrenn!”

WINNER and NEW Wildside Heavyweight Champion…: Scottie Wrenn, cleanly.

DUD. (O:42. C:23. Ouch again! M:62. The NWA-W Heavyweight title has gained 2 points of image. Thankfully, SOME good came out of this mess.)

7. Barry Windham vs. Rick Michaels (f):

Dan Wilson stays in the ring as Bon Jovi’s “Wanted: Dead or Alive” begins to play. He starts the introductions for what looks to be the impromptu main event.

“Introducing… from Sweetwater, Texas… former NWA World Champion… Barry Wiiiindham!”

Windham stalks down to the ring, taking off his cowboy hat and duster to hand them to a ringside attendant. He presents a piece of paper to Referee Speedy Nelson (replacing the manhandled Andrew Thomas) and Dan Wilson, indicating the supposed signatures with a pointing forefinger. As Nelson hands the paper down to a ringside official, Windham leans over the ropes, watching the ramp intently.

Guns N’Roses’ cover of “Hair of the Dog” begins to play…

”Now you’re messing with a… a son of a… Now you’re messing with a son of a bitch!”

…and out walks The Chosen Executive One, Rick Michaels. He’s dressed to wrestle in black trunks with matching elbow pads, knee pads, wrist tape, and boots. A black headband holds his hair in check. He slaps hands with a few ringside fans on his way down the ramp.

”His opponent is The Chosen Executive One… the CEO of NWA Wildside… from Atlanta, Georgia… weighing in at 205 pounds… Rick Miiiichaels!”

Michaels picks up the pace, eventually hitting a sprint and slides under the bottom rope. Windham meets him with some uninspiring stomps, then pulls Michaels up for some uninspiring punches. Yawn. As Speedy calls for the bell and “The Dragon” exits the ring, an Irish whip sends Michaels hard into the corner. He does the Flair flip, barreling over the top turnbuckles and staggering down the apron, only to get blitzed by a clothesline from Windham that bounces him off the apron and to the concrete floor.

Windham adjusts his gloves and reaches out to grab Michaels by the neck. He takes a front facelock and hits a dreadful suplex to bring Michaels into the ring. Windham really struggled with the ropes there. Legends… sigh.

Windham measures a boot to the face, but Rick catches it and holds it. Barry bounces as Rick Michaels gets to his feet. He spins Windham ‘round and hits him with a wicked knife-edge chop. Rick Michaels is pulling out the entire Flair arsenal against Barry Windham, and it’s 1987 all over again. More chops back Windham into a corner drawing “Whoo!”s all around.

A snap mare puts Windham on the mat and Michaels is pulling on the top rope. Windham makes too obvious a show of scooting into position as Rick pulls himself up onto the second rope and leaps out for a splash that glances. I guess Windham actually moved OUT of position. Grrrr! Lateral press by Michaels gets 1… 2… Windham, six-foot-six, has an easy time getting a cowboy boot on the ropes.

We’ve had a few minutes of constant movement, so it must be resthold time. Michaels pulls Windham away from the ropes by that same boot and locks in a spinning toe hold. If he whoo’s and turns it into a figure-four, I’m going to fire his ass. The spinning toe hold kills the crowd a bit, until Rick gets a little too close, and Windham is able to tag him across the jaw with an elbow.

Barry limps up to his feet and falls into a sloppy double axe handle across the back of Rick Michaels. Both men lie on the mat. Windham struggles to roll Michaels over and hooks the leg for 1… 2… Rick Michaels gets his shoulder up.

Windham pulls him up in a waistlock and hits an atomic drop that had room for a family of four between Barry’s knee and Rick’s spine. I WISH it was 1987… Barry hooks BOTH legs on his shoulders to hold Michaels down for 1… 2… 3-NO! Rick Michaels springs free.

Barry Windham adopts a side headlock, grinding it in. Michaels slaps at the arm, trying to rally some fan support, and having some moderate success. He gets to his feet and shoves Windham off into the ropes. He catches the big man on the rebound with a quick rolling kick to the jaw. Windham staggers, so Michaels hits a boot to the gut to double him over. He grabs Windham by the long blonde hair, and he might be setting up for The Double Shot, but Windham breaks it up with a right hand to the ribs. A second punch gets Windham free, and he straightens up for a right hand to the temple. He grabs Michaels by the wrist and pulls him in sharply… short-arm Lariat turns Michaels inside-out! Windham drops down and hooks the leg for 1… 2… 3.

It’s over. Rick Michaels is done as CEO of Wildside. The crowd is already irate, tossing trash into the ring and chanting “Bullsh*t! Bullsh*t!” Windham rolls out to the floor and folds up a steel chair. He tosses it into the ring haphazardly and rolls in after. Windham warms up the chair and takes a shot at Rick Michaels head. Someone needs to help Windham into the 21st century, because, while he bent the chair admirably against the mat, no contact with Michaels’ head was actually made. Ah well, Michaels is writhing on the mat, hands over his face, and that means we’re about to get one of the Rick Michaels blade jobs we’ve come to know and love.

Sure enough, Windham pulls Michaels up and he’s bleeding like a stuck pig. Windham holds him with one hand and hits some fists to the forehead, bloodying the knuckles of his fingerless glove. The bell is ringing aplenty, but Windham’s having a good time, until Michaels slumps to his knees and Windham casually tosses him aside.

WINNER: Barry Windham, cleanly. He is now contractually able to name the new CEO of NWA Wildside.

This one gets * rating and likes it. (O:55. C:44. M:66. Barry Windham lost 2 points of overness from pissing off Wildside fans everywhere.)

8. Bailey’s Boggle:

Jeff G. Bailey leads Iceberg out to the ring. Bailey carries a microphone as well as the Wildside Heavyweight Title, so I suppose they’ve managed to escape Tank and Wrenn thus far.

Iceberg holds the ropes for Bailey as Barry Windham boots former CEO Rick Michaels unceremoniously out of the ring. Windham picks up the chair and turns to face Bailey, who brings the microphone up.

“Thank goodness. Now, we can set everything right. I am so glad I called you Barry…”

Windham pulls the microphone over, almost dragging Bailey along. “Please. Mister Windham.”

“Ah yes. Of course. Sorry. Mister Windham, I don’t mean to pressure you, but if we could just restore the CEO position to its rightful owner…” There’s an uncomfortable moment of silence. “…as well as put the Wildside Heavyweight Title BACK around the waist of the man who never should have lost it.”

Windham suddenly brings the chair up and BLASTS Iceberg with it. Bailey is aghast, his eyes as wide as saucers. The big man staggers, blood trickling from the top of his scalp, as Windham tosses the chair down with a clatter. A Lariat floors Iceberg, and Jeff G. Bailey is looking around for assistance, but Rick Michaels is still in an unconscious heap on the floor.

Bailey picks up the chair and measures Windham, but he’s the pictorial definition of tentative. Windham turns, smiles, and rips the chair from his grasp. He raises the chair and drives it side-first into the throat of Iceberg, causing the big man to roll around in agony. Windham uses his cowboy boot to drive the chair down some more until paramedics rush out to help him. Windham turns to a stunned Bailey, pats him on the cheek, leaving a bloody handprint courtesy of Rick Michaels, and we’re through.

(Singles Assault Needs Paramedics: 48. Many fans left before and during this segment. Sigh.)

Overall Rating: 50 %. Man, this looked great on paper. It’s not WCW Sin, but it’s hardly a great way to end my first month on the job. I should’ve set someone on fire, I guess.

Strongest Segment: Barry Windham’s arrival. The fans enjoyed booing Wildside’s least wanted, Jeff G. Bailey. (65%)

Weakest Segment: Rick Michaels changing the booked tag match on the fly. (40%)

Attendance: 331 @ $20 each

I grant Brandon P’s requested push to Lower Midcard.

Adam Windsor requests a de-push. Given the poor reception to his gimmick, I bust him down to the Midcard.

Heat Changes:

Onyx vs. Lazarus (49 +3 = 52)

Adam Windsor vs. Jeremy Lopez (48 +6 = 54)

Feedback, criticism, ideas, and verbal attacks are all welcome and encouraged. Thanks for reading, and we’ll see ya soon!

Have fun,

TheRay

July 27, 2003

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

NWA Wildside TV #4

NWA Wildside TV is taped LIVE at The NWA Arena in Cornelia, Georgia.

“The battle lines have been drawn… the stakes are high… and we’re taking no prisoners. Join us as we count down to Arena Wars. THIS is NWA Wiiiildside!”

Thank goodness for the new Motley Crue digital remasters, because "Wildside" by arguably the greatest hair band ever is our official theme. Dan “the Dragon” Wilson joins us in the studio with broadcast colleague, Steven Prazak.

“We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, going into Arena Wars, so let’s get right down to it. Steve, Wildside has always been a hotbed of tag team action, and the past month has been no exception.”

“That’s true, Dan. Two of the fastest rising teams right now have GOT to be G-Rated and Future Shock. Fast-paced and exciting, hungry and ambitious, but the similarities end there, Dan. G-Rated, Kid Kool and Kid Xtacy, are a fun-loving pair, but Future Shock, Brandon P and Jay Freeze, are the most BITTER, disrespectful pair of misanthropes to set foot in a Wildside ring in quite some time.”

“It all started three weeks ago, when Future Shock found themselves on the losing side of a contest against another accomplished cruiserweight tandem, the team of Scott Cage and Mike Pittman, Rage… Rrrroll the clip.”

July 6, 2003: Future Shock (Bradon P and Jay Freeze) vs. Rage (Scott Cage and Mike Pittman) (f)

Scott Cage slingshots himself onto the top rope and leaps off in a springboard spin kick across the jaw of the backpedaling Jay Freeze. He whips around on rubber leg street and eats a spinning heel kick that floors him. Cage points toward the corner, but can’t buy a pop. He pulls himself up to the top and turns. The Frog Splash connects and gets the 1… 2… 3.

Later that night…:

Alicia Webb tries to follow Future Shock as they duck into the locker room. Brandon P gets past her, but she hooks her hand around the elbow of Jay Freeze, causing him to halt in his tracks.

“A word about the outcome of tonight’s match, Jay?” she asks, all doe eyes and innocence.

“Here’s two. Blow… and me.” He jerks his arm away and slams the locker room door in her face, causing her to blink with surprise. She looks around in confusion, unable to believe she’s been talked to that way.

Thanks for the honesty, Pancho. I'm not looking for any feedback fellatio here, so criticism is more than welcome. In retrospect, I probably should have been a bit more patient and not hotshotted it, but I've got to live with my decisions, good and bad. I hope it's not something that'll keep you away.

July 20, 2003

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

NWA Wildside TV #3

NWA Wildside TV is taped LIVE at The NWA Arena in Cornelia, Georgia.

“Looking for The League of Extraordinary Athletes? Well, look no further. We leave the ORDINARY to the supposed big leagues… We’re NWA Wiiiildside!”

Thank goodness for the new Motley Crue digital remasters, because "Wildside" by arguably the greatest hair band ever remains our official theme.

1. Rainman =0= w/Jeff G. Bailey vs. Mike Pittman w/Scott Cage (f) (For The NWA-W Television Title):

After Steven Prazak’s hype bite, the show opens with the growling voice of ring announcer Dan “The Dragon” Wilson introducing our first match.

"Introducing FIRST… already in the ring… and accompanied by Jeff G. Bailey… representing The NWA Elite… from Dark City… weighing in at 224 pounds… the NWA Wildside Television Champion… THIS is The Soul Assassin … Raaaainman!"

Rainman's a vicious looking thug in a grey hooded sweatshirt (in July?!), black NWA Elite t-shirt, baggy black pants, and black boots with white crosses. He walks with his head down and his arms, wrapped in elbow pads and athletic tape, folded across his chest. Jeff G. Bailey holds the ropes for his champ, and the climb into the ring.

Rainman jogs in place and shadowboxes, the hood of his sweatshirt hanging over his face like a cowl. Bailey, meanwhile, parades around the ring with the Television Title before handing it over to Referee Speedy Nelson with a bunch of instructions on how to care for it. Bailey then proceeds to take off Rainman’s hoody and give him a pep-talk. Prazak and Wilson remind us of the tribulations Bailey has been going through, what with his Heavyweight Champion, Iceberg getting pinned by Scottie Wrenn last week and John Phoenix storming off in a huff.

“And the CHALLENGER… from Atlantic City, New Jersey… weighing in at 190 pounds… accompanied by his Rage partner Scott Cage… please welcome Mike… Piiiittman!”

Cage slaps Pittman on the back and gives him an attaboy as Mike races to the ring. He wears a black t-shirt, a choker chain, black and white striped elbow pads, wrist bands, and tights. Simple black wrestling boots round out his wardrobe. His black hair is cut short, his face cleanly shaved.

Pittman slides under the bottom rope at the bell and eats a quick spinning back kick from Rainmain, who snarls on impact. His lips remain curled in an angry sneer as he lays boots into Pittman’s shoulder, eventually adopting a hammerlock on the prone cruiserweight.

Mike Pittman tries to worm his way out of the hold, but the champ keeps the pressure on. Rainman dodges one elbow, but it’s just a feint to set up one on the opposite side, stiff enough to break the hold. Pittman tries a snap kick, but Rainman catches it and eats a super stiff enzuiguiri. Wow.

Pittman shakes feeling back into his arm and sends Rainman into the turnbuckles. He charges in, but Rainman dodges, so Pittman leapfrogs him and gets his balance on the top rope. He turns and leaps, Rainman catching him, but a tornado DDT plants the champ. Mike Pittman hooks the leg, but Referee Speedy Nelson is too busy fending off griping from Jeff G. Bailey to count the fall.

Scott Cage comes around the bend to get things sorted out, and Bailey throws his hands up in resignation. It’s too little, too late, however, as Rainman kicks out before even the one-count. Pittman tries to hook up a backslide, but can’t get the second arm hooked, so Rainman spins and counters with a short-arm clothesline.

Rainman jaws with Scott Cage for a bit before pulling Pittman up by the scruff of the neck. “You want some, come get some, muthaf***a!” he shouts with requisite censoring by the production staff. Cage doesn’t take the bait, instead shouting encouragement to this partner. Rainman sends Pittman to the ropes and runs to the near side himself. He comes off with a jumping side kick, shades of Booker T. Rainman resists the urge to look at his hand, and instead leans over the ropes to snarl into the camera. “Who bad?! You looking at the Television Champion. We on television, you in MY HOUSE!”

Pittman gets up to all fours, getting Rainman’s attention away from the camera. He hits a lightning kick to the ribs that knocks Pittman over. A lazy cover gets only two, causing Rainman to cross his arms across his chest and get all up in Speedy’s grill.

The champ pulls Pittman up in a front facelock. He licks the forefinger of his other hand, holding it up to test the wind, I suppose, then turns to face Scott Cage. He points down and drops Pittman in a DDT. Another lax cover gets 1… 2… 3-NO! Pittman kicks out, but just barely.

“Yo, dead man walking!” shouts Rainman as he pulls Pittman up by the arm. An Irish whip sends Pittman hard into the turnbuckles. Rainman charges in for a clothesline, but Pittman is able to dodge, and the gangsta gets a grilla fulla turnbuckle pad. Pittman measures and hits a few quick snap kicks to the back of the head, staggering the champion. He then drops down for a schoolboy roll-up and gets 1… 2… 3-NO! Rainman rolls free.

Pittman tries to catch him coming up with an armdrag, but Rainman lands on his feet and holds the wrist, whipping Pittman into the near ropes. He catches him on the rebound with The Spinesplittah! (sky high) Rainman hooks the leg deep for 1… 2… 3. Zero crowd response as Jeff G. Bailey gives the belt and sweatshirt back to his charge and Scott Cage checks on his partner. Tough crowd, tough crowd.

WINNER: Rainman retains cleanly.

DUD. (O:45. C:17. M:74. Rainman debuted his new Gangsta gimmick, getting a negative response, but he still gained 4 points of overness from his title defense. The NWA-W Television title has gained 4 points of image. Mike Pittman gained 2 points of overness from his laudable effort.)

2. “Can’t Get You Out of My Head”:

When we return from the break, Kylie Minogue’s “Can’t Get You Out of My Head” begins to play, and that can only mean one thing… Lazarus is in the hizz-ouse. Sure enough, “That Guy” dances out, spinning so his pleated skirt flares up about him, revealing wayyyy too much. His hair is pulled into pigtails, he wears ridiculous powder blue eye shadow and white face paint, a lacy bra, knee socks, and tap shoes. Cornelia, Georgia is less than amused.

“Weeeell… some people just don’t know how to show appreciation. And NO, I don’t mean you slobs. I’m talking, of course, about my very own Yankee Doodle Dandy, the delectable Onyx. I come out here last week, and I save you from a HUMILIATING defeat at the hands of that uptight Smokey Carmichaels. I mean, HELLO… SOMEONE’S got anger management issues… but whatever. My point is, instead of being GRATEFUL, you… you… BUSHWHACKED me! You SUCKER… uh… sucker-DDTed me! Yeah!”

Lazz tries to conjure up some genuine emotion here, but Cornelia’s too busy chanting homophobic epithets to get into the moment. “Well, FINE. If THAT’S how you want things to be Onny, then that’s it. Consider us officially OVER!”

Dan “the Dragon” Wilson chuckles. “Were they ever officially NOT over? Were they ever… under? You know what I mean, Steve.”

“I THINK I know what you mean, but I don’t even WANT to know what Lazz means.”

Lazarus continues. “We may be OVER, Onyx, but we’re not THROUGH… not by a long shot. Because next week, at Arena Wars in Athens, Georgia… you will learn… that HELL hath no fury… like a Lazarus… scorned. Until then, send out the whipping boy. I’ve got some frustration to work out. Danny Boy?”

“Haha,” laughs Prazak. “It’s times like this when I don’t envy you, Dan, old buddy, old pal.”

(Interview: 44. Lazarus gained 5 points of overness from his comments.)

3. Lazarus vs. Jimmy Rave (f):

Dan “the Dragon” Wilson climbs into the ring and tries to take the microphone from Lazarus with as little physical contact as possible. Still, he can’t avoid one of Lazz’s fingers sliding a trail from his knuckles down his forearm and up his shoulder to his ear. Wilson cringes away and makes his introductions.

"Introducing FIRST… already in the ring… from Kentwood, Louisiana… weighing in at 183 pounds… THIS is Laaaazarus!"

Lazarus does his spin and a curtsey, earning no points from the fans.

“And his OPPONENT… from The Underground… weighing in at 210 pounds… The Original XTC... Jimmy Raaaave!”

Rave is a relatively clean-cut kid with tousled brown hair and an energetic, youthful look, not at all like some skeezer on X. He wears a sleevless black Jimmy Rave t-shirt (get yours today!), elbow pads, baggy silver pants with black striping, and black boots, presumably with kickpads hidden under the pants legs.

After the bell, both men circle, measuring each other. Rave ducks in for a collar-and-elbow tie-up, but Lazz backs out to the ropes, forcing a break, and complaining about something or other. He waves Rave away with a brushing motion of his hands. This happens twice more, straining the patience of both Jimmy Rave and the fans in attendance.

Fourth time is the charm, as Lazarus ducks the tie-up and turns behind Rave to sweep his legs out from under him. Lazarus grabs him by the ankles and does a double legdrop to the groin, earning an admonishment from Referee Speedy Nelson.

Lazarus then takes a front facelock and lifts Jimmy Rave up. He rolls into a swinging neckbreaker, pivots his hips Eddie Guerrero-style, and pulls Rave up to do it again. He tries to roll it for a hat trick, but Rave blocks it with a kick to the gut. Lazarus tries to counter with a right hand, but it’s blocked. Rave hits a right of his own. Lazz tries another right, also blocked, and Jimmy Rave fires back with a punch, and another, and ANOTHER. Running clothesline drops Lazarus.

Jimmy Rave looks around and then heads for the turnbuckles. He climbs up to the top, taking a moment to steady himself as Lazz turns to face him. Flying cross body off the top finds its mark. Speedy counts the fall… 1… 2… Kickout by Lazarus.

Rave straddles him and holds a pigtail with one fist and drives the other repeatedly into the forehead of Lazarus. He then heads straight back to the corner. Jimmy Rave leaps off for a Randy Savagesque flying elbow, but Lazz is able to roll out of the way.

Lazarus rolls up to his feet and bounces off the ropes for a “raver” dropper. He rolls Jimmy over, leans back across him, and hooks the leg awful deep, copping a feel. Rave kicks out on the two count and backpedals away across the mat, but Lazz grabs him by the wrist and pulls him to his feet.

Jimmy Rave reverses the Irish whip, but telegraphs the backdrop, so Lazarus plants him with a big tornado DDT, one of Rave's signature moves (called The Gravity Killer when employed by Rave). Lazarus lays back across him again, hooking the leg practically from the groin, and getting 1… 2… 3-NO! Jimmy Rave rolls his shoulder.

Lazarus maintains a hand on the groin and uses it to help scoop Rave up, but Rave is able to drop out the back and push Lazz away into the ropes. Lazz bounces back, stumbling backward to eat a massive spinning heel kick across the jaw. Jimmy Rave takes a moment to fix his tights, doing a package check, and visibly angry.

Lazarus rubs his jaw, smiles, and spins Rave around. A right hand tags Jimmy Rave this time. Rave counters with one of his own, but it’s ducked by Lazz, who sweeps the legs out from under him. Jimmy Rave kips up and tries an Irish whip, but it’s reversed by Lazarus, who heads to the near side. He catches Jimmy Rave with The Brittany Spear! He practically speared Rave out of his boots! The cover is elementary, 1… 2… 3.

Lazz chases Speedy around the ring, wanting his hand raised in victory, but Speedy won’t oblige him. Meanwhile, Jimmy Rave uses the ropes to get to his feet. He leans forward, hands on knees, shaking his head with disappointment, knowing he came so close to victory. This is enough to get Lazz to stop in his tracks. He smiles and makes the framing gesture with his thumbs and forefingers, fixated on Rave’s black vinyl-clad posterior.

Rave senses Lazz’s proximity and turns, only to eat a SECOND Brittany Spear. Laid out, he is helpless as Lazarus straddles him and strikes a rakish pose. Steven Prazak begs for the production staff to “Cut to commercial! Cut to commercial!”

WINNER: Lazarus, cleanly.

I'll give it a * rating for not being too bad. (O:52. C:27. M:78. Jimmy Rave debuted his Underdog gimmick, getting a positive response. Both men gained 4 points of overness from their exposure.)

4. A Royal Arrival:

When we come back, Steven Prazak is more composed, and it’s easy to see why. His broadcast partner, Dan “the Dragon” Wilson, is in the ring with no sign of Lazarus or Jimmy Rave, or Speedy Nelson, for that matter.

“Ladies and gentlemen… Allow me to introduce the CEO of NWA Wildside… The Chosen One… Rick Michaels!”

Michaels struts out in a polo shirt and dress slacks, taking his time to climb into the ring and getting a mild pop in the process. He takes the mic from Dan and pauses respectfully before speaking.

“Since wresting control of NWA Wildside from that LEECH, Jeff G. Bailey, I’ve been looking forward to a moment when I could truly say I was PROUD to be a part of the management of this company. Sure, I’ve been proud to be a part of the roster, performing for all the great fans here in Georgia (cheap pop), but I’ve never given much thought to all the work that Bill and the gang do behind the scenes. Until now.”

Michaels starts pacing the ring, ending up at the bottom of the ramp, looking out at the curtain. “I’d like to welcome the newest addition to the NWA Wildside roster. We’re very proud to have him here, and he’s got limitless potential. Please give a royal welcome to… The Royal Stud… Adam Windsor!”

“Pomp and Circumstance” begins to play, and the star student of The Funking Conservatory struts down the ramp, his long blonde hair flowing down his shoulders where a long-sleeved red-white-and-blue sequined robe drapes. He wears a royal blue singlet, kneepads, and thick black boots. Windsor smiles as he saunters around the ring, giving the little regal wave to all the fans, kissing ladies on the hand, and all that claptrap. Eventually, he makes his way into the ring and shakes hands with both Michaels and Wilson. He gets a decent response, but nothing too crazy.

Windsor politely requests the microphone and takes it gingerly in his hand. “Thank you. Thank you all as well. I’m truly honoured to be here in the great state of Georgia and look forward to competing with the very best… FOR the very best.” He indicates the crowd with a sweeping gesture, earning a cheap pop. “Now, if you would indulge me, Mister Michaels, I would like to join Misters Wilson and Prazak at the announce position and see firsthand some of Wildside’s finest.”

“The Dragon” turns to the CEO, they both shrug and nod, and Windsor hands the microphone to Wilson before heading over to join Prazak. Michaels departs as introductions are made.

(Singles Debut With Authority:51. Adam Windsor debuted his new gimmick, Royalty. It got a positive response, earning him 2 points of overness. Rick Michaels gained 3 points of overness from this segment as well.)

5. Caprice Coleman (f) vs. Jeremy Lopez :

"Introducing FIRST… from Fayetteville, North Carolina… weighing in at 197 pounds… the self-proclaimed show-stoppin', crowd-poppin', body-rockin', pulse-poundin', heartbreakin', handsome-faced superstar... Caprice... ICE... Cooooleman!"

Coleman is a clean-cut black athlete in the Shelton Benjamin style. He wears his hair buzzed very close to the scalp. A pooka-shell necklace hangs around his neck. He sports black elbow pads and boots and two-tone tights, split into dark blue on the left side and light blue on the right. He slaps hands with some ringside fans, but maintains focus like a serious competitor.

“And his OPPONENT… from Tampa, Florida… weighing in at 187 pounds… Jeremy Loooopez!”

Jeremy Lopez takes his time coming down to the ring in a cocky strut. He takes a circuitous route around ringside, spotting Adam Windsor and giving him the evil eye as he sips his bottled water. He caps the bottle and sets it down in front of Windsor, leaning in so the microphones will pick him up.

“Hey, watch my water kid. I’ll be back for it in a minute.”

Prazak and Wilson apologize for the disrespectful comment as Lopez rolls into the ring, but Adam Windsor takes it in stride. “It’s all part of the game,” he says. The announce team does a disservice to Caprice, spending the early parts of the match discussing Windsor’s background as actual British royalty, his training with Dory Funk Jr. in Ocala, Florida, and his work with the Hart family in Calgary. Eventually, Jeremy’s training at the Malenko Dojo in Tampa comes up. “I have nothing but respect for the Malenko family and their dojo. I would only assume that the students would try to live up to the dignity and honor of the Malenko name.”

We’re really not missing much, match-wise, just some lock-ups, feints, the much maligned “indy respect stance” and so forth. Pretty standard fare. When we actually start calling the action, Lopez hits a standing leg lariat to back Coleman into a corner. He hits a WICKED chop across the chest of Coleman, causing him to cringe in pain. Lopez steps back and measures a dropkick that buries Caprice in the corner, causing him to slump down against the turnbuckles.

Lopez uses his boot to choke Coleman against the ropes, getting to a count of four from Referee Andrew Thomas before breaking it as requested. Prazak asks Windsor about such shortcuts, but he is noncommittal. “It’s all part of the game, Mister Prazak. I would hope I’m never reduced to such tactics, but it’s foolish to be unprepared for them.” Well said.

Lopez goes back to the boot, only to have Coleman reverse it into a single leg takedown. He hooks up a spinning toe hold and drops an elbow into the inside of the leg. He runs to the ropes and comes off with a high knee drop across the knee of Lopez, causing him to cry out in pain. A side cradle puts Jeremy down for a quick two.

Coleman locks on a side headlock and ratchets it up a bit, giving the announcers time to jaw a bit more about Windsor’s strong technical background, versatility in the “American style” and so on. Lopez eventually makes it to his feet and shoves Caprice off into the ropes. He catches Caprice on the rebound with a stiff rolling elbow that flattens him. A lateral press gets a quick two, evening the score.

Jeremy measures Coleman, tapping his foot impatiently. As Caprice gets up to his knees, Lopez steps in for a VICIOUS kick to the teeth that knocks him flat again. Another lateral press gets 1… 2… 3-NO! Coleman gets a last second kickout.

Lopez, still impatient, reaches down to pick Coleman up, but gets pulled into a small package. Both men spring free just as Thomas dives to make the count. Coleman hits a kick to the ribs of Lopez, who responds with a right hand of his own. We get a bit of an exchange until Lopez hits a basement dropkick to the knee to cause Coleman to lose his balance.

Jeremy grabs him by the wrist on the way down and leans back, sending him to the turnbuckles with considerable momentum. Lopez charges, but Coleman leapfrogs him, letting Jeremy hit the turnbuckles in his own right. Lopez staggers backward, fishing in his tights. Caprice spins him around and presses him high overhead, looking for his Thermal Shock finisher. Lopez peppers the top of Caprice Coleman’s head with what looks like brass knuckles. Caprice quickly drops Jeremy, who tosses the knucks as Referee Andrew Thomas comes over to check his hands. Caprice is on one knee, bleeding from a gash in the top of his head.

Jeremy holds his hands up for inspection, then spins Caprice around. Elevated DDT takes advantage of the head wound and the tainted cover is a simple 1… 2… 3!

We get a clatter as Adam Windsor dumps his headset and walks over to pick up the brass knuckles. He rolls into the ring, holding them up for Referee Andrew Thomas and pointing accusingly at Jeremy Lopez. Lopez, of course, denies everything, and we have a bit of a three-way struggle for the knucks as Lopez, Windsor, and Thomas all try to gain, regain, or retain possession of the incriminating evidence. Thomas falls on his backside in the fracas, Lopez gets the knucks, but eats a boot to the gut for his trouble. Doubled over, he gets spun around by Windsor for The Kryptonite Krunch! Windsor gingerly lays the bloody knucks on the chest of the prone Lopez, helps both Thomas and Coleman to their feet, and steps out of the ring.

“That’s more respect than either Jeremy Lopez or Andrew Thomas deserve. Ladies and gentlemen, we’re out of time. Be sure to catch our Arena Wars preview special next week, and join us at The Athens Arena at our bell time of seven o’clock for what should be a TREMENDOUS show. For Steven Prazak, I’m Dan… The Dragon… Wilson…”

WINNER: Jeremy Lopez, by undetected use of brass knuckles.

This one gets * rating and likes it. (O:54. C:31. M:78. Caprice Coleman debuted his new gimmick, Cool. It got a positive response, earning him 4 points of overness. Jeremy Lopez lost a point of overness from getting schooled by the newbie.)

6. Dialing a Bit Left of Center:

We cut outside the arena, where Jeff G. Bailey shouts animatedly into his cell phone.

“No problemo. Iceberg’ll make mincemeat out of Scottie Wrenn. I don’t give a rat’s ass what happened last week. Wrenn’s blood will be on Rick Michaels’ hands. I guaran-damn-tee it.”

We see Bailey visibly gulp, and his confidence feels false.

“Still, that power-mad piece of crap’s doing his damnedest to stack the deck against The Elite… What? Are you serious? You can make it to Arena Wars?! Oh, man, you don't know how FANTASTIC that would be. That'd be better than Amateur Night at the Bangkok Hilton. No, thank YOU. I'll see you next week.”

Bailey hangs up his phone and slides it into his suit pocket. A vicious smile creeps over his lips.

“A former NWA World Champion… HERE in Wildside. Ha. Rick Michaels wants to be sheriff? Fine. Let's see him corral THIS outlaw…”

Bailey practically skips out of frame. Roll credits.

(60%. Jeff G. Bailey gained an additional 2 points of overness from his vague foreshadowing.)

Overall Rating: 52 % (+6 %)

TV Rating: 0.37 (-0.03). We’ve maxxed out our rating in the Late Evening time slot. Our ratings battle with WXW Rage is supposedly too close to call, even though they cancel their show again.

Strongest Segment: Bailey’s vague foreshadowing. (60%)

Weakest Segment: Lazarus redefining “over-the-top.” (44%)

Attendance: 160 @ $20 each (+9)

Heat Changes:

Onyx vs. Lazarus (39 +10 = 49)

The writing staff tells me the fans just aren’t buying Adam Windsor as Royalty, John Phoenix as a Highlight Reel, Rainman as a Gangsta, or Rick Michaels as an Authority Figure. They’ll have to stay for now.

Feedback, criticism, ideas, and verbal attacks are all welcome and encouraged. Thanks for reading, and we’ll see ya real soon!

Have fun,

TheRay

Thanks, guys. New, never-before-seen shows are indeed being lovingly handcrafted as I repost.

July 13, 2003

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

NWA Wildside TV #2

NWA Wildside TV is taped LIVE at The NWA Arena in Cornelia, Georgia.

“We’re not RELOADED… UNITED… or DUMBERER… Accept no substitute. We’re an American original. THIS is NWA Wiiiiildside!”

Thank goodness for the new Motley Crue digital remasters, because "Wildside" by arguably the greatest hair band ever is still our official theme.

1. The Firebird and The Iceberg:

After Steven Prazak’s hype bite, the show opens as per usual, with the growling voice of ring announcer Dan “The Dragon” Wilson introducing Wildside CEO Rick Michaels. Wilson is dressed in his usual casual attire, wraparound shades firmly in place.

Instead of “The Chosen Executive One,” we are treated to the arrival of the majority of The NWA Elite, led by Jeff G. Bailey. He is flanked by the NWA Wildside Heavyweight Champion, Iceberg and John Phoenix. Phoenix is dressed in a black t-shirt, white cargo pants, and old school black-and-white two-tone boots. His black hair sits in a high flattop, his chin adorned with some scruff. His lips curl in a confident sneer.

Bailey sports his usual ill-fitting navy blue suit with wide-ass tie. His dark brown hair, moustache, and beard are all trimmed short. He steps up onto the apron and waits for Dan “the Dragon” Wilson to hold the ropes open for him, but Dan just gives him the middle finger, so he was forced to have John Phoenix slingshot himself in and oblige him. Despite Wilson’s confusion and reluctance, Bailey demands the microphone and Iceberg makes sure he gets it.

“Bow down. Get on your hands and knees and grovel before the man who overcame all the odds last week. Even the interference of Scottie Wrenn couldn’t derail The No Pain Train on his collision course with Tank. He overcame the odds, soundly defeating BOTH of our ESTEEMED NWA Wildside Tag Team Champions.”

Steven Prazak gives us the old “What match was HE watching? Did Wrenn squeeze his head too hard last week?”

As if on cue, Bailey continues. “You made a BIG mistake last week, Scottie. You could’ve just sat back and watched… watched and WAITED for your opportunity to become one of the coveted Elite, but NO… You squandered it away for the cheers of these… these LEMMINGS.”

Failing to draw appreciable heat, Bailey simply keeps going, his cronies applauding his rapier wit. “And what’s worse, you had the gall… the AUDACITY… to put your d*ck-skinners on me. I’m not an athlete. I’m a GENIUS. And considering the EASE with which the ‘Berg dispatched our illustrious Tag Team Champions last week, I feel it only appropriate that The NWA Elite get a shot at those straps… TONIGHT.”

Phoenix and Iceberg nod their assent. “So, it’ll be the Firebird…” John Phoenix does a run and bend over the top rope a la Jeff Hardy. “…and the Iceberg… versus…”

(Authority Books 2 vs. 2: 50. John Phoenix sort of debuted his new Highlight Reel gimmick, but it fell kind of flat. Jeff G. Bailey gained a point of overness from this segment.)

2. “Just Wait a Damn Minute…”:

“Just wait a damn minute…” The voice belongs to Rick Michaels, who comes out in street clothes, a microphone in hand. “I don’t know if Scottie Wrenn dropped you on your head last week, but last time I checked, Jeff G. Bailey wasn’t in charge anymore. I AM The Chosen Executive One, and I call the shots around here. You had your time as big bully in the playground, Bailey, and you almost ran Wildside into the ground. I’m steering the ship now.”

Bailey stomps the mat to sell us on his anger at being reminded of that fact.

“But, I’m a fair man, and if you want a Tag Team Title shot for your boys, so be it. But (2), let me say this… I’ll be watching that match VERY closely, and I want it straight and fair. No dirty tricks. In short, don’t piss me off.” Michaels spikes the mic and throws his hands up, fishing for a pop. Nothing but crickets.

“It’s going to happen!” cries Steven Prazak, trying to conjure up some hype. “TONIGHT… Tag Team Titles on the line… Wow.”

(Authority vs. Authority Confrontation: 49. Rick Michaels gained 3 points of overness from this segment, while Jeff G. Bailey picked up an easy 1.)

3. Smokey Carmichaels (heel) vs. Onyx (face):

We cut to the ring, where Dan “the Dragon” Wilson has resumed ring announcer duties.

“Introducing first…”

Smokey Carmichaels, a menacing bearded black man in a sleevless black shirt, black cargo pants, and combat boots, stomps out to the ring. He snatches the microphone away from Wilson and clears his throat rather audibly.

“That’s enough of your rhetoric, Cracker. I’m not going to let you run down my good name with that gutter of hate you call a mouth. No sir. No sir. I AM Smokey Carmichaels, and in an ALL-TOO predictable move from a RACIST Southern WHITE establishment, you’ve put me up against one of my brothers tonight in what you hope will be a spectacle of human cockfighting. Well, NO SIR. No sir. I will only offer the hand of peace and brotherhood to my black…”

Suddenly, Carmichaels is cut off by the beat of “Slam” by Onyx. The man who shares the hip-hop group’s name bursts through the curtain, leans back showing off his chiseled physique and rips the black bandanna off his bald head, tossing it to the less than appreciative fans. Smokey’s jaw visibly drops as Onyx dances down the aisle, slapping hands with the predominantly white crowd. “The Dragon” takes the opportunity to reclaim the microphone.

“And his opponent… from Jamaica, Queens in The Big Apple… weighing in at 217 pounds… The Genetic Specimen… THIS… is… Onyx!”

Onyx climbs into the ring, and is met by Carmichaels, who offers a handshake. It looks sincere, but Onyx hesitates anyway, looking to the crowd for advice. Nobody seems to give much of a sh*t, so he begrudgingly accepts, only to get predictably suckered into a spinning back kick from Smokey.

Carmichaels now turns up the aggression, shouting at Onyx about “dancing for the MAN?!” He stomps the shoulder of Onyx before pulling him up in an armbar. Smokey wrings the arm for a bit before Onyx gets his bearings and squares up his stance. He hits a few elbows to the side of Smokey’s head to break the hold.

With Smokey reeling, Onyx hits a series of knife-edge chops that back Carmichaels into a corner. Onyx even pulls the sleeveless black t-shirt of Smokey up to really get a resounding slap across the pecs. An Irish whip sends Carmichaels barreling into the far corner. Onyx drops into a dramatic three-point stance and charges in, spinning to hit a sweet elbow across the jaw.

Smokey staggers out, and Onyx tries a hip toss to put him onto the mat, but Carmichaels was playing possum a bit, and manages to reverse, sending Onyx over the top of the turnbuckles. Onyx catches the ropes on the way down and skins the cat, but as he turns on the apron to face his foe, he eats a high standing dropkick from Smokey that knocks him clear to the ringside railing.

Carmichaels follows after and retrieves Onyx by the scruff of the neck. He slams his bald head into the ring apron a few times before rolling him into the ring. Carmichaels takes a side headlock for a moment, until Onyx muscles up to his feet. Spinning bulldog in the corner plants Onyx, and Smokey floats over for a quick two before Onyx kicks out.

Smokey pulls Onyx up by the arm and hooks him into a double chickenwing. A tiger suplex takes Onyx over. Smokey bridges as Referee Speedy Nelson dives to count the pinfall. 1… 2… 3-NO! Onyx squeaks free, and Smokey is outraged. He starts pointing his finger in Speedy’s chest, trying to intimidate the much smaller ref.

This leads to a time-tested spot as Onyx hooks the furious Carmichaels from behind and rolls him up in a schoolboy for 1… 2… 3-NO! Smokey pops free, and has a look of absolute shock on his face. Onyx hits a boot to the gut, doubling Carmichaels over and takes a front facelock, obviously looking for The Blaq Out DDT. Smokey is able to get his feet set, however, and takes Onyx over in a northern lights suplex, rolling through to hop up onto the second set of turnbuckles. He climbs up to the top and points down, calling for his Top Rope Leg Drop finisher.

But, as he’s pointing, Lazarus races down the aisle and climbs up onto the apron. Lazz gets two big handfuls of ass and launches Smokey from the top. Carmichaels manages to land on his feet and turns to face his attacker, but Lazz leaps off the top rope in his own right, NAILING the Brittany Spear off the top!!!

Speedy Nelson wastes no time calling for the bell, eliciting groans from the fans. He raises the arm of the prone Smokey Carmichaels, much to the disgust of Onyx. Lazarus, visibly pleased with himself, does a little curtsey in the direction of Onyx, and this just about tears it. As Onyx stomps over, Lazz gets all coy, obviously mistaken in expecting some form of gratitude. Onyx hits a boot to the gut and then lays his admirer out with The Blaq Out DDT! Onyx leaves both his erstwhile foes lying in the ring and angrily marches off.

WINNER: Smokey Carmichaels, by disqualification caused by the interference from Lazarus.

This one gets a * rating and likes it. (O:52. C:26. M:78. Smokey Carmichaels gained 5 points of overness from his DQ victory. Lazarus gained a point of overness from his antics, while Onyx gained 3 points from his rage.)

4. “Gimme a G!”:

When we return from commercials, The Head Cheerleader, Destiny is out in her black and yellow skirt and tank top ensemble. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a playful ponytail. She receives some sort of cue and takes up a microphone in the center of the ring.

“Gimme a G!” she kicks a high-top sneaker high over her head.

Dan “the Dragon” Wilson states the obvious. “She kicks high.”

“Gimme an R! Gimme an A! Gimme a T… E… D! What does that spell?”

“Grated?” asks Prazak.

“Geeeeeeee-Rated!” she shouts, giving the Cornelia crowd a hand with their English.

Both of these kids, looking like rejects from Hanson, stand a few inches under six foot. Kid Kool wears goofy black goggles and a black headband over his dark brown bangs, a very loose black tank top, tights, and boots with kickpads. Kid Xtacy has slightly longer, slightly lighter brown hair. He is similarly attired in a pair of ridiculous plastic 2003 New Year's sunglasses, a baby blue t-shirt, black tights, and boots with kickpads. They play to the crowd quite a bit, putting their glasses on a pair of giggly girls before sliding into the ring, flanking Destiny. She jumps into a split, looking up at both of them and passing the mic to Kid Xtacy.

Both men give the little lady a little applause before Kid Xtacy starts kicking shoutees. “Cornelia, Georgia, let me FEEL ya!”

Destiny rolls up to her feet and takes a cheeky pose, bent over with her hands on her knees, her skirt providing scant coverage. The former Sal Del Rio laughs it off, turning to face the crowd as Kid Kool puts his hands to his own cheeks and lets his jaw gape in the Home Alone face.

“That’s not what I meant, Des, but we’ll get around to that later, Girl. Because THAT’S what brings The G-Men out here, the horrible mistreatment of the LOVELY Alicia Webb last week. I mean, was that one HELL of an impact she made last week or WHAT?” This draws a lukewarm response at best. These guys are perceived as jobbers, and jobbers don’t get mic time. Oh well.

“She came out here looking FINE, and we was looking forward to our interview with Miss Webb, but guess what? Future Shock has to go and screw it up. They OBVIOUSLY have no idea how to treat a lady. A lady needs ATTENTION… A lady needs APPRECIATION… and a lady needs RESPECT. I guess if you two knew anything about THAT, you wouldn’t be playing Shock the Monkey with each other instead of living LARGE like The G-Men do!” Destiny nods her assent, but the fans are starting to stir in their seats, looking for something to do.

“So, Alicia was so traumatized by her experience, that she called out tonight, and we might have even seen the LAST of her pretty little face here in Wildside. Now THAT’S a tragedy we don’t intend to let happen. When we saw what went down, we hooked up with Des, and TOGETHER, we’re going to see that Future Shock PAYS for their disrespect. So (2), if Mister Wilson would be so kind as to come on down, let’s get this party started!”

(Interview: 44. Destiny debuted her new Cheerleader gimmick, it got a positive response. Kid Kool and Kid Xtacy debuted their new gimmicks, Daredevil and Comedy Character, respectively, also getting positive responses. Destiny and G-Rated each gained 4 points of overness from their antics.)

5. G-Rated (Kid Kool and Kid Xtacy) w/Destiny (face) vs. Future Shock (Bradon P and Jay Freeze) (heel):

After getting the microphone from Xtacy, Dan "the Dragon" Wilson does the honors.

"Introducing FIRST… already in the ring… and accompanied by The Head Cheerleader, Destiny… from Every Girl's Fantasy… at a combined weight of 315 pounds… Kid Kool and Kid Xtacy… G-Raaaated!"

Kid Kool runs to the ropes and does a springboard backflip, landing squarely on his feet, while Kid Xtacy flexes his meager biceps, Destiny jumping into another split in front of him.

“And their opponents … from Chapel Hill, North Carolina… at a combined weight of 435 pounds… Brandon P and Jay Freeze… Fuuuuture Shock!”

Future Shock come out, and Jay Freeze wastes little time, flipping off the crowd, then their opponents, Wilson, and finally a crotch chop for Destiny. Kid Kool gives us angry and then runs to the ropes and springboards into a flying neckbreaker on Jay Freeze.

After the introductions, Dan “the Dragon” Wilson joins his broadcast partner at the announce position. Brandon P and Kid Xtacy take up positions on their respective aprons as Kid Kool and Jay Freeze fight to their feet on the floor. Freeze snags Kool by the wrist and tries an Irish whip into the railing, but Kool reverses, sending Freeze sliding into the ring. Kid Kool leaps up onto the apron, pulls back on the top rope, and slingshots himself into a huracanrana, snaring the leg for a quick two.

Before Jay Freeze can recover, Kid Kool pulls him up in a front facelock and places him astride the G-Rated corner. He makes the tag to Kid Xtacy and climbs up into superplex position. Kid Xtacy takes his partner onto his shoulders for a stack superplex. He rolls up to his feet and runs to the ropes to hit a quebrada onto Freeze. He hooks the leg for another two count, but Brandon P makes the save with a boot.

As Referee Andrew Thomas ushers Brandon back to the apron, Destiny calls the shots in a double-team effort. Kid Kool plants Freeze with a bodyslam while Xtacy takes to the corner. Brandon P shoves the referee into the ropes, causing Xtacy to crotch himself on the turnbuckles. Andrew Thomas then sees that both Brandon P and Kid Kool get out into their respective corners while Jay Freeze uses the ropes to get to his feet. He takes Kid Kool in a front facelock and pulls him back, leaping and twisting for a tornado DDT that PLANTS Kid Kool.

Jay Freeze staggers over to the Future Shock corner and makes the tag to Brandon P. Kid Kool crawls over towards his corner, Destiny slapping the apron for support as Kid Xtacy stretches the tag rope and stomps the mat. Brandon P races over and stomps the reaching hand of Kid Kool, earning a warning from Referee Andrew Thomas. He steps into a rear chinlock, using his “weight” to keep Kool from making the tag.

It only works for a bit, however, before Kid Kool is able to muscle his way up to a vertical base. Brandon P counters by squaring up his stance and pulling Kid Kool down with a rear naked choke drop. He takes a legscissors around the head and shoulder of Kid Kool, twisting him into a pinning predicament, but cannot hold him long enough for Andrew Thomas to count. With Thomas now in position, he tries the crucifix again, but Kid Kool rolls through and to his feet, pulling his head free. He hits a basement dropkick to the mush of Brandon P and dives to make the tag!

Kid Xtacy quickly climbs up to the top turnbuckle, measuring Brandon P. Super frankensteiner takes Brandon over with considerable snap. Kid Xtacy kips up as Brandon P rolls to his feet. A NIIICE springboard dropkick takes Brandon down. Lateral press gets 1… 2… 3-NO! Brandon P barely kicks out in time.

Kid Xtacy pulls Brandon up by the arm and sends him to the ropes. A standing leg lariat knocks Brandon P to the mat. Kid Xtacy runs to the far side and comes off looking for a baseball slide dropkick, but Brandon P dodges, sending Xtacy sliding through and to the floor. Kid Xtacy lands on his feet, but as he turns to face the ring, Brandon P pulls back on the top rope and leaps for a plancha to the outside.

Referee Andrew Thomas begins the double countout, each teammate trying to urge his partner on, but it’s Brandon P who gets into the ring first. He leans over the top rope, taunting Kid Xtacy and demanding that Thomas count him out. At around about seven, Xtacy climbs up onto the ring apron. Brandon P grabs him by the hair and gets set to fire off a right hand, but Xtacy hits a shoulder block to double Brandon over. Kid Xtacy pulls back on the top rope and slingshots himself up for a sunset flip that takes Brandon P over, but Brandon rolls through and pulls Kid Xtacy’s tights practically off to hold him for the 1… 2… 3!

As Future Shock get their hands raised in victory, Destiny steps forward to dispute the decision. Jay Freeze seizes her by the ponytail, causing her to shriek. There should be a crowd pop here, but everybody’s in the rest room apparently, because nobody welcomes The Lost Boyz, who race to the rescue with steel chairs in hand.

The Lost Boyz, Azrael and Gabriel, are a pair of Goths with long, stringy hair and copious amounts of eye shadow. They wear Danzig goatskull t-shirts and baggy red velvet pants over black boots. They slide into the ring, causing Jay Freeze to throw Destiny in their direction. She slides through, avoiding the con-chair-to, but Freeze is not so lucky. Brandon P rips a chair out of Gabriel’s hands, only to get it knocked into his own face with a spinning back kick. The Lost Boyz help Destiny up and reunite her with G-Rated before the whole face faction leaves together.

Yuck. DUD. (O:44. C:17. M:72. Azrael and Gabriel debuted their new gimmicks, Occult and Gothic, respectively. Azrael got a negative response, costing him a point of overness, but Gabriel got a positive response, earning him 2 points of overness. Future Shock gained 6 points of overness each from their victory, G-Rated picked up another 2 each for their loss.)

6. Firebird (John Phoenix) and Iceberg w/Jeff G. Bailey (heel) vs. Tank and Wrenn (face) (For The NWA-W Tag Team Titles):

After commercials, Dan "the Dragon" Wilson announces our main event.

"Introducing FIRST… being led to the ring by Jeff G. Bailey… representing The NWA Elite… John Phoenix and the NWA Wildside Heavyweight Champion… Firebird aaaand Iceberg!"

Iceberg holds the ropes for Bailey with his massive frame, while Phoenix does a flip over the top and onto his feet. Iceberg brandishes the title while Bailey applauds and John Phoenix strikes a pose in the corner.

“And their opponents … the NWA Wildside Tag Team Champions… at a combined weight of 555 pounds… Tank and Wrrrrenn!”

Scottie Wrenn storms the ring and eats a right hand from the mammoth Iceberg. He scoops Wrenn up and slams him down with relative ease.

“Iceberg has a 45 pound weight advantage on the tag team champions all by himself!” exclaims Prazak as Wilson joins him at ringside.

Iceberg hooks the leg of Wrenn at Bailey’s behest, but can only get two before Wrenn rolls his shoulder. Iceberg yanks him up by the arm and sends him hard into the corner. The “No Pain Train” starts to roll, and he rumbles right into a boot to the face from Wrenn.

The champ staggers away holding his face, so Wrenn presses the offense, coming out with a running knee to the ample midsection. This doubles the big man over, but only for a moment. Still, it gives Wrenn the time to run to the far side and come off with a big spear. Iceberg shrugs it off, so Wrenn tags Tank in.

The tag team champions send Iceberg across with a double Irish whip. Together, they’re able to backdrop the six hundred-pounder, who hits the mat with a thud. Tank grabs him by the back of the neck and tries to scoop up the monster, but someone needs to tell the “sickle-wielding maniac” that The ‘Berg can’t be slammed. Iceberg responds with a series of forearm shots to the midsection and then across the back of Tank, battling his way to the Elite corner for a tag to John Phoenix.

Phoenix slingshots himself into the ring and hits a springboard sidekick to the face of Tank. The big man no-sells, brushing Phoenix aside. Phoenix grabs Tank in a front facelock and runs up the corner for a tornado DDT. He rolls Tank over and covers for a quick two, but Tank launches him off to break the pinfall.

John Phoenix tags Iceberg back in and then takes to the corner. He makes a rolling gesture with his hands down to Jeff G. Bailey, who gets impatient and shouts instruction. Iceberg lifts Tank up for a crappy looking standing spinebuster as Phoenix comes off the top with a somersault legdrop. The synchronization was not what it should have been. Iceberg hooks the leg deep for 1… 2… 3-NO! Scottie Wrenn makes the save.

Iceberg and Wrenn start trading punches. Jeff G. Bailey wants Referee Andrew Thomas, his frequent lackey, to eject Wrenn, but Thomas shakes his head, not wanting any part of it. Tank gets to his feet and enters the fray, and what was once a standstill is now a clear Tank and Wrenn advantage, backing Iceberg to the ropes. A double Irish whip sends him across, but a double clothesline levels the face team.

As Iceberg starts making his way across for the tag, Scottie Wrenn lets Andrew Thomas guide him out to the apron, only to get promptly tagged in. He catches the champ just short of tagging his partner and pulls him back by the neck into an inverted facelock. Reverse DDT puts Iceberg down, but he doesn’t stay there.

Iceberg rolls up to his feet and starts slugging it out again with Wrenn. Iceberg tries an Irish whip, but Scottie Wrenn reverses, sending Iceberg crashing into the face corner. Tank comes in and they send a stunned Iceberg into the ropes. H Bomb!! (double spinebuster)

Scottie Wrenn takes a lateral press. 1… 2… Phoenix tries to make the save, but Tank catches him in a sidewalk slam… 3! As Tank and Wrenn get the tag titles handed back to them, Jeff G. Bailey climbs into the ring to chew his team out. Iceberg seems duly cowed, but John Phoenix storms off in a huff without saying anything, much to the disgust of Bailey.

Dan “the Dragon” Wilson puts things in perspective. “Scottie Wrenn just did the impossible! He pinned Iceberg! Jeff G. Bailey’s world is falling apart, and I couldn’t be happier! For Steven Prazak and the rest of NWA Wildside, good night!”

Slap a DUD on it, move on. (O:42. C:20. M:65. The NWA-W Tag Team titles have gained 2 points of image. Firebird and Iceberg each lost a point of overness from their defeat. So did Tank, just for participating in this DUD.)

Overall Rating: 46 % (-3 %)

TV Rating: 0.40 (+0.03). We’ve maxxed out our rating in the Late Evening time slot. Our ratings battle with WXW Rage is supposedly too close to call, even though they cancelled their last show.

Strongest Segment: The Carmichaels/Onyx match and extracurriculars. (52%)

Weakest Segment: Again, the main event. (42%)

Alicia Webb = Ratings…

Attendance: 151 @ $20 each (-8)

Public Image Change: (34 - 1 = 33)

Double up… Ouch! Ouch!

July 14, 2003

The hiring of Referee Andrew Thomas seems to have fixed our match ratings, but we’re still performing way under par. I’m afraid to ask for a move to Prime Time at this point since our TV ratings would probably be okay, but our overall show would degenerate due to low segment ratings. We’ll just continue in our current format until we can drop some of our dead weight (cough… Iceberg… cough).

The writing staff tells me the fans just aren’t buying John Phoenix as a Highlight Reel. As with Rick Michaels, it’ll have to stay for now.

Feedback, criticism, ideas, and verbal attacks are all welcome and encouraged. Thanks for reading, and we’ll see ya real soon!

Have fun,

TheRay

Okay, I've gotten the diary bug again, but can't decide on a new diary. Simple solution: Resurrect an old diary I really enjoyed.

Without further ado, then, using good old EWR 3.0 and the RaveX 15 Update…

July 6, 2003

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

NWA Wildside TV #1

NWA Wildside TV is taped LIVE at The NWA Arena in Cornelia, Georgia.

“Our athletes don’t need CORK to enhance THEIR hits! This is 100 per cent… All Natural… Grade A… Ass-Whipping Action… COURTESY of NWA Wiiiiildside!”

Thank goodness for the new Motley Crue digital remasters, because "Wildside" by arguably the greatest hair band ever is our official theme.

1. A NEW Voice in NWA Wildside:

After Steven Prazak’s hype bite, the show opens as per usual, with the growling voice of ring announcer Dan “The Dragon” Wilson introducing Wildside CEO Rick Michaels. Wilson is dressed in a casual black suit, sans tie, his blonde hair spiked, chin scruffy, and too cool for school red wraparound shades perched on his nose. The veteran Michaels comes out in pricey street wear, an NWA Wildside cap over top of his dark brown bangs, his goatee neatly trimmed. “The Chosen Executive One” climbs into the ring, basking in adulation from the crowd before taking the microphone from “The Dragon.”

“I have an introduction of my own to make, Dan, if you don’t mind.” Dan nods his assent. “Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you the NEW backstage voice of Wildside TV… the lovely Alicia Webb!”

Alicia is stunning and radiant in a stylish white dress and silver heels. She’s all smiles and waves to the hooting and hollering crowd as she walks up the ring steps. Wilson and Michaels practically trip over each other to hold the ropes open for her, but “The Dragon” does the honors. CEO Michaels then hands her the microphone.

“Thank you all for the warm welcome. It’s great to be here, and let me tell you, this is one girl ready to go Wildside!” Ouch. That was rough, but her enthusiasm IS contagious. “I’m going to be going behind the scenes each week to give you fans the inside scoop on the superstars and super stories of NWA Wildside. But… while I’ve got the CEO of NWA Wildside right here… at my mercy…” She smiles. “Mr. Michaels?”

He leans forward and grins. “You don’t waste any time. Please, call me Rick.”

“Okay, Rick. Let me start by asking you about the Tag Team Title situation. It seems our champions, Tank and Wrenn, are having a bit of difficulty working together. So far, it hasn’t cost them the titles, but with such combustible elements in play every time they share a corner, how long can they keep from breaking down entirely?”

“Good question. Let me just say that they’ve been tremendous champions thus far, and I’d like to see that trend continue. Tonight, Tank has a helluva opportunity, as he’ll be facing the Heavyweight Champion, Iceberg, in our main event. Allow me to go on record to state that the entire NWA Elite is officially BANNED from ringside, and if ANY of this so-called Elite get involved in that match, then Iceberg will forfeit the title and that stable member will be suspended without pay INDEFINITELY!”

“Wow! That’s a bold stipulation.”

“It’s time somebody laid down the law in NWA Wildside, and I seem to be the sheriff of the moment, so who better than I?”

“Who better indeed? I’ll be backstage trying to get some of the roster’s thoughts on this as well as other situations as the night progresses. Thank you, Mister… Rick.”

Alicia hands the microphone back to Rick, who, in turn, passes it to Dan “the Dragon” Wilson before holding the ropes open for Alicia’s departure. He escorts her up the ramp as Dan gets ready for our first set of introductions.

(Singles Debut With Authority: 63%. Alicia debuted her new Staff Member gimmick and Rick Michaels debuted his new Authority Figure gimmick. Both got positive responses, and both workers gained 4 points of overness from this segment.)

2. Future Shock (Bradon P and Jay Freeze) vs. Rage (Scott Cage and Mike Pittman) (f):

“Introducing FIRST… from Chapel Hill, North Carolina… at a combined weight of 435 pounds… Brandon P and Jay Freeze… Fuuuuture Shock!”

Future Shock are a pair of young cruiserweights, both standing about six foot tall with clean-cut looks and a cocky swagger. They sport black wristbands and gloves, black elbow pads, and black and silver tights. Brandon P has slightly longer hair, held in check with a black headband while Jay Freeze is certainly the more overbearing of the two, jawing with fans at ringside, most of whom ignore his taunts.

“And their opponents… weighing in at a total of 396 pounds… Scott Cage and Mike Pittman… Rrrrage!”

Rage is also composed of a cruiser pair about six foot high. Cage’s hair is buzzed with a short bit of chin scruff, tattoos adorning his tanned upper arms. His forearms, wrists, and hands are covered in a liberal amount of black tape. Cage wears yellow trunks and knee pads trimmed with red flames and black boots. Pittman is clean cut with a black shirt, grey and black elbow pads, wristbands, and tights. They grin and play to the crowd a great deal more than their foes, setting up the face/heel dynamic simply and easily. After the introductions, Dan “the Dragon” Wilson joins his broadcast partner, color analyst Steven Prazak at the announce position.

Jay Freeze and Scott Cage start the match for their respective teams. They lock up, and Cage takes the quick advantage, backing Freeze to the ropes and hitting a wicked chop across the chest before the break. No whoo’s from the crowd, though.

An Irish whip across sets up a spinning back elbow that drops Freeze to the mat. Scott Cage takes a quick cover and gets two before Jay Freeze kicks out. Cage tags in his partner, and Rage hook Freeze up for a double suplex. Pittman floats over and gets another quick two.

Pittman sends Freeze into the corner and races in, leapfrogging him to position himself on the top rope. A flying neckbreaker puts Jay Freeze back on the mat, and Referee Chris Emerson has to cut off a furious Brandon P to prevent the interference.

This DOES give Freeze the opening to hit a knee to the VERY low midsection, however, doubling Mike Pittman over. Freeze backs into the ropes, bounces off, and hits a rocker dropper as the referee turns around. Jay Freeze rolls him over and hooks the leg for a two count before Scott Cage dives in for the save.

Emerson urges Cage out to the apron, and this allows Brandon P to clap his hands together and come in without a legal tag. He pulls back on the top rope as Jay Freeze gets a hold of the calves of Mike Pittman. Freeze falls back in a catapult as Brandon P slingshots himself into a somersault leg drop. Brandon takes the cover, and Emerson dives to make the count. 1… 2… 3-NO! Scott Cage makes the save again.

As Referee Chris Emerson issues another warning to Scott Cage, Brandon P pulls Pittman up in a front facelock. A swinging neckbreaker lays him out, but Pittman rolls onto his side to avoid the pinfall, trying desperately to reach for the hot tag. Brandon P slaps on a side headlock and uses his weight to keep Pittman away from his corner.

Gradually, Pittman is able to get to one knee. A series of forearm shots to the small of Brandon’s back gives Mike the opening to get up to a crouch. He lifts Brandon in a back suplex, but it obviously took a lot out of him. He crawls toward his corner, and Jay Freeze gets tagged in to try and cut him off. Pittman lunges forward… and makes the tag!

Scott Cage slingshots himself onto the top rope and leaps off in a springboard spin kick across the jaw of the backpedaling Jay Freeze. He whips around on rubber leg street and eats a spinning heel kick that floors him. Cage points toward the corner, but can’t buy a pop. He pulls himself up to the top and turns. The Frog Splash connects and gets the 1… 2… 3.

WINNERS: Rage, cleanly (Scott Cage over Jay Freeze).

DUD, and a poor DUD at that. (O:38. C:15. M:72. The “crowd” was absent in this one, but the action was promisingly solid. Both teams gained greatly from the exposure, each earning an additional 5 points of overness. Brandon P and Jay Freeze debuted new gimmicks, Cheater and Obnoxious respectively, and got positive responses.)

3. Onyx (f) vs. Jeremy Lopez :

After the break, Dan “the Dragon” Wilson resumes ring announcing duties.

“Introducing FIRST… from Jamaica, Queens in The Big Apple… weighing in at 217 pounds… The Genetic Specimen… THIS… is… Onyx!”

Onyx is a chiseled black man, slightly under six foot, with black cargo pants and boots and a black bandanna around his dizzome. He dances out to his namesake band’s “Slam,” trying in vain to get Cornelia to “raise the roof.”

“And his opponent… hailing from Tampa, Florida at 187 pounds… Jeremy Loooopez!”

Lopez is even smaller and slighter than Onyx. His brown hair is cut long, with a cheesy moustache and chin scruff. He wears a red t-shirt with a bit of black kanji on it. Your guess is as good as mine as to what it says. The sides of his red vinyl tights are covered in black lightning bolts down to his black boots. He carries a bottle of water to the ring, taking sips from it and wetting his hair as he strolls casually around ringside. Wilson rejoins Prazak, who reminds us that Lopez was trained at the world famous Malenko Dojo in Tampa and had a lengthy reign as the Wildside Junior Heavyweight Champion.

In the ring, Lopez sips at his water while asking Senior Official Speedy Nelson to check the pockets and do rag of Onyx. Onyx sighs and throws his hands up in the “whatever” gesture. After all this folderol, Speedy wants Lopez to dispose of his water and get this thing started. Lopez complies, by splashing Onyx, distracting him long enough to eat a brutally STIFF high kick that knocks the bandanna clear off his skull.

Speedy boots the water bottle to ringside, while Lopez, clearly proud of his advantage, takes a grinning side headlock. Onyx is less than amused, however, and pushes Lopez off into the ropes. He catches his foe on the rebound with a spinning back kick. As Lopez is on his way down, Onyx grabs hold of his wrist and pulls him brusquely back up, leaning back to send Jeremy into the corner, where the unfortunate Speedy gets elbowed in the grill. Jeremy had looked and seen the referee there, so it was hardly accidental. At least, so says Steven Prazak.

Onyx stutter steps in and hits a VICIOUS superkick to the teeth of Lopez. Both men working very stiff here. Onyx takes a lateral press, but instead of counting the fall, Speedy Nelson staggers forward and does a Flair flop to sell the corner bump he took mere seconds ago.

Onyx aborts the pinfall attempt to check on the fallen referee, allowing Lopez to shake the cobwebs out and get to his feet. He spins Onyx around and ducks an angry clothesline to hook him in a high hip toss beal that sends him sprawling across the ring. Lopez runs to the ropes and springboards off the middle to hit an axehandle that catches Onyx on his way up.

Jer-Lo measures his foe as Onyx sits up. A lightning kick laces Onyx across the face, and he falls back face-first to the mat. Lopez yanks Speedy up to his feet and guides the referee over as he makes the cover for a solid two count before Onyx kicks out.

This, of course, draws protests from Lopez, who slaps the mat in an instructional example to the still groggy referee. Onyx struggles up to his feet, but Jeremy catches him with a springboard dropkick that’s right on the mark. Nicely done. He covers again, nodding to Speedy to make the count, and do it right this time. 1… 2… 3-NO! Onyx BARELY rolled his shoulder, but Speedy’s holding up two fingers.

Lopez is beside himself and stomping the mat now. As he starts threatening Speedy, Onyx hooks him from behind in a schoolboy roll-up. 1… 2… 3-NO! Lopez kicks out! Both men make their feet at the same time, and Onyx hits a lightning kick to back Jeremy up.

Onyx charges with a clothesline, but Lopez is able to duck it and snare the wrist. An Irish whip is reversed by Onyx, who sends Lopez hard into the turnbuckles, and THIS time, Speedy Nelson was sure to keep clear. Onyx runs in and buries Lopez in the corner with a dropkick.

Lopez slumps in the corner as Onyx tries to get some life out of the crowd. No luck. He moves in for a front facelock, obviously looking for his Blaq Out DDT finisher, but Lopez grabs the ropes, shouting for a clean break. As Speedy Nelson moves in to back Onyx up, Jeremy pulls brass knuckles out of his tights. He spins Speedy around and rushes past him, NAILING Onyx with a loaded punch. By the time Speedy Nelson has spun back around and is diving to count the pinfall, the knucks are already hidden under the back of Onyx, out of sight. 1… 2… 3!

Speedy Nelson goes to raise Jeremy’s hand in victory, but he switches sides, confusing Nelson, and causing him to raise his other hand. Meanwhile, the knucks get slipped off and tucked back in the tights, Speedy never the wiser. Our broadcast team give us all sorts of disappointment, but try to sells us on Jeremy’s craftiness rather than Speedy’s incompetence. “Onyx got screwed!” proclaims Steven Prazak.

WINNER: Jeremy Lopez, by foreign object.

Rating: 1/2 star. (O:48. C:33. M:76. Jeremy Lopez debuted his new Cheater gimmick and it got a positive response. He gained 4 points of overness from his tainted victory.)

4. Because He Can-Can-CAN!:

As if on cue, “Because We Can” by Fatboy Slim begins to play and Lazarus high-kicks his way down the ramp in a black lace-up corset, grey pleated skirt, knee socks, and tap shoes. His face is painted white with powder blue triangles over his eyes and cheeks. Steven Prazak is beside himself. “For the love of God, Dan! He’s turned Cornelia, Georgia into his own personal Moulin Rouge!”

Lazz tries vainly to get some of the good ol’ boys at ringside to dance with him, eventually making his way to the ring, where Jeremy Lopez stands, seemingly amused, his hands on his hips. Lopez bails as Lazz enters, leaving Onyx writhing on the canvas.

Lazz takes the house mic from Dan “the Dragon” Wilson, who gets the hell out of Dodge, not wanting to be too close to the fanciful freak. He shakes his head and puts his finger to his lips pensively before speaking.

“My, my, my. Oh dear. No, that won’t do. That won’t do at all.”

Lazarus kneels down before Onyx and Dan “the Dragon” Wilson makes a predictable remark about “falling to his knees in a familiar posture, I’m sure.” Onyx appears to be regaining his composure and glares suspiciously at Lazz after noticing his presence.

“Big O… You and I have had our differences in the past, but I’ve tried… OH, how I’ve tried… to make amends. After all, you’re everything a man could want… in another man. You’re… okay, you’re not so tall, but you’re DEFINITELY dark… and OH SO handsome, my little cinnamon stick.”

He licks his lips, causing Onyx to struggle up to his feet with anger and evident disgust. “I just can’t sit back and watch someone put your little precious in jeopardy. I REFUSE to sit back and let someone put OUR future in jeopardy.”

Onyx snatches the microphone away and takes a deliberate step back. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. WE… we don’t HAVE a future. We’ve got a PAST, I’ll give you that, mostly me kicking your lily white ASS, but we’ve been there, done that, and unless you want to go there again, I suggest you backdaf*kup.”

Lazz gingerly resumes control of the microphone. “Okaaaay. Does this mean you WANT your little nuts cracked? I’m usually the M in the ol’ S&M, but I guess a switch isn’t out of the question. When in Cornelia, as they say…”

“Look man, I don’t know what the heeeell you’re talkin’ ‘bout, but I don’t want no part of it. No HOW… no WAY, so get to steppin’.”

“All right. I hear what your saying, but your eyes are telling a very different story, Sugar Plum. I understand I put you on the spot here tonight, so just do me a favor. Consider it. Consider a life with Lazz, a life of love and leisure.”

Onyx looks to have had enough, but Lazz puts up a hand to hold him off. “Okay, okay, okay. I’ll get to… HIGH steppin’ as you say in that delectable New Yawk accent of yours. I’ll give you some space AND some time, but mark my words Big O… I WILL be back, and I WILL expect an answer.”

Before Onyx can give him his answer right then and there, Lazz slides out of the ring WITH the microphone and tosses it to Dan “the Dragon” Wilson. He then prances back up the ramp and out of sight.

(Worker Proposes A Team, Rejected: 47%. In questionable taste, and remarks from Onyx could have been misconstrued as racially themed rather than the usual homophobic rhetoric. Asking Cornelia, Georgia to choose between the black man from Queens and the gay guy might be a bit much to ask for. Lazarus debuted his new Gay gimmick, getting a “positive” response. Lazarus only gained 3 points of overness for his advances, but Onyx gained 4 by refusing them.)

5. A Shock from the Future:

We cut backstage, where Alicia Webb tries to follow Future Shock as they duck into the locker room. Brandon P gets past her, but she hooks her hand around the elbow of Jay Freeze, causing him to halt in his tracks.

“A word about the outcome of tonight’s match, Jay?” she asks, all doe eyes and innocence.

“Here’s two. Blow… and me.” He jerks his arm away and slams the locker room door in her face, causing her to blink with surprise. She looks around in confusion, unable to believe she’s been talked to that way.

(Worker Goes Into Another’s Locker Room: 75%. This might say more about Wildside than anything else. Jay Freeze talking nasty to Alicia = ratings? Alicia Webb gained an additional 3 points of overness from this verbal AND sexual abuse.)

6. Tank w/Scottie Wrenn (f) vs. Iceberg =0= for the NWA:W Heavyweight Title:

After the break, Dan “the Dragon” Wilson resumes ring announcer duties for the main event.

“Introducing FIRST, the challenger… accompanied to the ring by his fellow NWA Wildside Tag Team Titleholder Scottie Wrenn… weighing in at 280 pounds… from Union Beach, New Jersey… please welcome Taaaank!”

Tank is a big, bald lump with a thick, handlebar moustache and tattoos on his heavy upper arms. He wears a black “Psychiatric Ward” t-shirt and baggy black pants. Black boots, elbow pads, and white wrist and hand tape round out the wardrobe. He carries a sickle with him, holding it up for a nonexistent pop.

His partner, Scottie Wrenn is taller and more heavily muscled. He has a thin beard on his broad chin and a blue bandanna around his forehead. His arms are also heavily tattooed and black and red fingerless gloves cover his hands. He wears a black tank top, baggy black pants with red striping, and black boots. Wrenn certainly doesn’t look happy to be here, and simply refuses to play along with his partner, urging him to “get on with it already” as he adopts a position at ringside, his arms folded across his chest in a defiant posture.

“The CHAMPION… representing Jeff G. Bailey’s NWA Elite… he weighs in at 600 pounds… from Places Men Fear to Tread… Never pinned… Make way for The No Pain Train… Iiiiceberg!”

I don’t think a dozen Wildside Heavyweight Title belts could fit around the waist of Iceberg, but he’s hardly the six hundred pounds he’s billed at. At 6’3”, only an inch taller than Tank, it’s a little much for him to be more than double Tank’s weight. Still, he’s a true behemoth in a ripped grey and white striped shirt, black singlet, and boots, the title hefted on his shoulder. His wrists and hands are heavily taped. A sadistic smile is fixed on his lips. His head is shaved and ruddy brown sideburns lead into a thin moustache and beard.

As Dan “the Dragon” Wilson takes his announce position, Jeff G. Bailey comes down the ramp, waving a piece of paper in his hand, a confident smirk on his face. Senior Official Speedy Nelson puts his hands on his hips, suspicious of this disruption. Bailey climbs into the ring and gives the paper to Speedy. Speedy shakes his head in frustration before showing the paper to Tank. The challenger rips the paper up and tosses the fragments at Bailey.

Steven Prazak fills in the home audience, letting them know that “Jeff G. Bailey is insisting that he has a contractual RIGHT to be at ringside to witness the match, since he’s Iceberg’s manager of record. More legal maneuverings from this damn SHARK.” The arena audience didn’t need to be informed, as most of them are either die-hard fans or friends and family of the workers.

Iceberg doesn’t wait for the opening bell, doesn’t wait for Speedy Nelson to get ready, and CERTAINLY doesn’t wait for Tank to get ready, as he blitzes Tank with a series of right hands that drive him into a corner. The No Pain Train backs up and charges in for an avalanche, but Tank deftly avoids the 600 pounder and reverses roles, hitting some right hands of his own.

Tank tries an Irish whip to pull ‘Berg out of the corner, but the big man doesn’t budge, instead pulling Tank in for a short-arm clothesline that turns him inside-out. He backs Tank into the corner, using his ample backside to squash him in there good. He steps out, looking to his manager for approval as the challenger slumps into the corner. A charging clothesline CRUSHES Tank. A SECOND clothesline has Tank on dream street. Iceberg pulls him out by the neck and just laughs as his opponent staggers and falls to the mat.

Jeff G. Bailey applauds and urges Iceberg to cover. A lazy press gets only two before Tank kicks out. Iceberg pulls Tank up in a front facelock and drops him back down in a DDT. He takes another cover, looking a bit more desperate as he nods to Bailey, but Tank gets his shoulder up JUST before the three.

Iceberg looks confused, and now Bailey is practically screaming for him to hit The Ground Zero Splash and finish this. ‘Berg backs into the ropes and bounces off, but Tank is up on one knee and meets him with a right hand to the midsection. Tank drops Iceberg in a DDT, but it was hardly precise. Iceberg more or less just fell into him. Tank struggles to roll the champion over as Speedy Nelson slides into position. 1… 2… 3-NO! Iceberg shrugs off the challenger, and Prazak reminds us “That’s almost three hundred pounds he shrugged aside like it was nothing!”

Tank is up to his feet first, and backs into the ropes, perhaps for a splash of his own, but Jeff G. Bailey reaches in and trips him up, afterwards throwing his hands up in the universal “Not me!” pose that’s less than convincing. Tank turns and reaches down, grabbing Bailey by the top of his beady little head. Even THIS fails to draw a pop, but maybe the crowd is too jaded to be surprised by what comes next.

Iceberg hits Tank from behind with a clubbing forearm, forcing him to release his manager. Tank turns right into a body slam that puts him in position for The Ground Zero Splash. 1… 2… 3, it’s finished.

Jeff G. Bailey climbs into the ring and adjusts his shirt and tie, surely taking umbrage at Tank laying his hands on him. He orders Iceberg to the ropes for ANOTHER splash! “600 pounds onto Tank AGAIN!” howls “The Dragon.”

Bailey is calling for a third, but, as Iceberg backs into the ropes, Scottie Wrenn slides into the ring and catches Iceberg coming off with right hands. Iceberg retaliates in kind, and we have clubbering! Bailey takes off his shoe and tries to hit Wrenn from behind, but Tank reaches up and grabs him by the pants leg. Bailey, terrified, pulls himself free, almost at the expense of his pants.

Meanwhile, Wrenn manages to get the upper hand on Iceberg and actually has the big man on the ropes. He backs up and measures a charging clothesline, but Iceberg drops prone and rolls/oozes out of the ring, putting major strain on the bottom rope. Bailey adjusts his pants, points at his lost and surely expensive shoe, and retreats with his champion, vowing revenge.

Dan “the Dragon” Wilson gave us perhaps the understatement of the night. “Jeff G. Bailey is CERTAINLY not going to let this one go! We’ll hear from him next week, no doubt! For Steven Prazak and the rest of NWA Wildside, good night!”

WINNER: Iceberg retains, by illegal interference from Jeff G. Bailey.

Welcome to DUDville, please drive carefully. (O:36. C:22. M:60. Iceberg debuted his new Enforcer gimmick, Jeff G. Bailey debuted his new Lawyer gimmick, Tank debuted his new Psycho gimmick, Scottie Wrenn debuted his new Crazy gimmick, all earning positive responses. Tank gained 1 point of overness from his loss, while Iceberg and Jeff G. Bailey both gained 2 from the win. Scottie Wrenn’s turn is also completed, and he is now a face, gaining a big 10 points of overness.)

Overall Rating: 49 %

TV Rating: 0.37. Our ratings battle with WXW Rage is too close to call.

Strongest Segment: Sadly, Jay Freeze’s verbal abuse of Alicia Webb. (75%)

Weakest Segment: Also sadly, the main event. (36%)

Attendance: 159 @ $20 each

Heat Changes:

Onyx vs. Lazarus (29 +10 = 39)

Public Image Change: (35 - 1 = 34)

Ouch!

July 7, 2003

In the hopes of combating our lame Overall match ratings, I hire a third referee, snagging longtime Wildside staple, and Jeff G. Bailey stooge, Andrew Thomas from TNA.

Sophie suggests more experienced workers, but I need to establish my current roster first. The writing staff tells me the fans just aren’t buying Rick Michaels as “The Chosen Executive One.” It’ll have to stay for now. Any ideas on how long guys need to go between gimmick changes?

Feedback, criticism, ideas, and verbal attacks are all welcome and encouraged. Thanks for reading, and we’ll see ya very soon!

Have fun,

TheRay

Devils Due? Wait a minute.... Issue 2-6 have Image on the cover, 7 doesn't have anything, and 8 say Udon Comics. What's going on with the switch in publishers?

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Does anyone know the status of the Street Fighter comic by... Image? Maybe it's that new company that does all the Transformers books. Anyway, I was really enjoying it, but it seems like it's been an unusually long time since a new issue was released.

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question to TheRaySays do you know all of Mr. Majestics comic book appearances I know there isn't a lot so just wondering if you know of them? Thanks

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