NWA: Wildside 2k3

[Hajjhowe]

Nice review shows, and glad to see Smokey win. His gimmick rocks. Also, Lazz winning last show was sweet. GO MIMES!

[TheRaySays]

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

Edited December 3, 2004 by TheRaySays

[TheRaySays]

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.

Edited December 10, 2004 by TheRaySays

[Guest Azrael]

Kick ass diary TRS, really fun to read. Liking the push of the Lost Boyz, Azrael and Gabriel should be holding the Tag Team Titles though, you know their a better team than The Windham Brothers. Normally i'd see a Barry and Kendall Windham push in a modern (ish) set diary as a bad thing, but knwoing you as a Windham mark, and the fact they hell you write them so their actually interesting means it's not a bad thing, it's a good thing (damn that was a bad catchphrase)

Would like to see a more of guys like Jimmy Rave and Jeff G. Bailey, especially Rainman, who is NWA World Television Champion but by my count has only been seen in the diary once? plus is there going to be a return soon for Jason Cross? Hooking him up with Slim J under the management of Bailey would be pretty kick ass.

Keep up the good work man, and we'll keep reading it

[TheRaySays]

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

Edited December 10, 2004 by TheRaySays

[Guest y2gudge]

Just read Double Indemnity and it was an average show as far as NWA:W goes, your writing is stellar as usual but the whole West Texas Rednecks/Scottie Wrenn is getting a little stale and maybe a new challenger needs to step into the fold such as, my personal favourite, the newly re-hired Slim J or Jeremy Lopez. Lazz is as always just weird but maybe some clarification of why Sylvain is there is needed if you haven't already, bearing in mind I haven't read the next two shows yet.

Keep up the good writing...

*y2gudge*

[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

[Guest Azrael]

Azrael winning makes me happy

Gabriel losing makes me unhappy

Azrael being banned from the arena makes me sad

Other than that this diary is still firing on all cyclinders. Just curious as to whether you had any plans to upgrade this diary to 4.0 after Fright Night, when i'm guessing all the feud will be ended.

Speaking of feud ending i'm guess by the mention of a Contraption for Lazz-Onyx that that feud is coming to an end? I'm curious as to what the contraption is going to be? With a Character like Lazz you can probably do anything, here's hoping for something good

I'm also hoping the Cage Main Event will produce the traditional Fright Night blood bath, but then it would have to to make Kendall verses Scottie 2 interesting.

Rainman's rather strange return has my thinking as well, i'm guessing he's going to be introduced as an "opressed minority", but what happened to the Television Championship? and how are they going to explain it. and why did you pair Rainman with Smokey?

All in all though this is still an excellent diary TRS, keep it up man

[Hajjhowe]

Good few shows, and I love Cirque de Sade. Such a bunch of freaks it's great. Also likeing Sal Del Rio, if only for his name

Rainman returning under what coudld be an addition to Smokey's "Angry Minority" stable is good. Freshen's his charecter. I don't really dig Wrenn, but the roster is getting more defined.

Push Lazz Gay man + Mime = Ratings

[TheRaySays]

October 26, 2003

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

NWA Wildside TV #17

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

“Halloween comes early tonight, as the Wildside Heavyweight Title will be on the line… inside a sixteen-foot-high steel cage. The Ticking Time Bomb… The Psycho… Scottie Wrenn defends that title against The West Texas Redneck… Kendall Windham. This is Kendall’s last shot at Wrenn, and it’s sure to be a frightening encounter… which is appropriate enough for Fright Night. We’ll run down the build-up to that epic encounter and others in tonight’s show. 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, for this special Fright Night hype edition of Wildside TV.

“The NWA Elite are apparently back and in full effect, Dan, but the events last week have just cranked the rumor mill up into high gear as there was some obvious dissension in the ranks.”

“No doubt, Steve. No doubt. We got quite the update on both the Elite and an impromptu State of Wildside address from our very own CEO, Barry Windham last week. We also witnessed a shocking return that raised more questions than answers. Rrrroll the clip.”

October 19, 2003

We cut to archival footage from 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.”

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 gettin’ 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…”

Later that night…:

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.

Later…

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?!”

[TheRaySays]

Over one year in the making...

October 26, 2003

The National Wrestling Alliance presents…

Fright Night

Fright Night is held LIVE at The NWA Arena in Cornelia, Georgia. A steel cage hangs ominously over the ring for the main event.

1. Rainman & Smokey Carmichaels (-H-) vs. Caprice Coleman & Jimmy Rave (-F-):

The show opens with Smokey Carmichaels already in the ring, dressed in his ring attire of black cargo pants and combat boots. He paces the ring with the house mic in hand. After receiving a cue from the cameraman, he brings the microphone to his lips.

“This here is Fright Night, the scariest damn night in the year, but there ain't no goblin or ghoul as frightnin' as the spectre of racism... the spectre that I see in the face of each and every white person in this here arena tonight. Y'see... I can SMELL the fear in the building... the fear of a black tag team... and you have good reason to fear, 'cause tonight... tonight, I'm proud to introduce my partner... from Africa... weighing in at 221 pounds... the Nubian Heavyweight Champion... I know him as Rakhim Muhammad, but you people call him Rrrrainman!”

A hip-hop beat begins to play, that of "Panic" by Dilated Peoples.

“The difference between a hero and a coward?

There is no difference.

One time or another everyone's felt fear.

It's what one person does that the other person doesn't do that makes him a hero.

But I'm about to step the fuck up... ”

Rainman takes a leisurely stroll down to the ring in his brightly colored caftan and matching fez. He has the former NWA Wildside Television Title slung over his shoulder, now sporting a faceplate that features an outline of Africa with red, yellow, and green stripes. A nameplate beneath that is engraved with the legend "NUBIAN HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION".

Rainman climbs up onto the apron and doffs his entrance attire, revealing his own pair of khaki cargo pants and combat boots. He kisses the belt and passes it to Smokey, who admires it with an expression of great satisfaction. Dan "the Dragon" Wilson enters the ring and requests the house mic to introduce their opponents, but Smokey makes him, and the crowd, wait for it a bit. After an interminable delay, he hands it over and walks to the ropes to pass the newly christened Nubian Heavyweight Title to a ringside attendant.

“Their OPPONENTS… 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!”

The orchestral gospel sounds of Deitrick Haddon and The Voices of Unity ring out with "Chain Breaker." Caprice Coleman comes down the aisle, confidently nodding his head in time with the music. He slaps hands with a few ringside fans before hopping up onto the apron and slingshotting himself into the ring. He climbs up onto the middle buckles and looks out over the crowd. Satisfied, he hops down and begins loosening up.

He fingers the pooka-shell necklace that hangs around his neck and looks upward as if it were a crucifix or rosary. His two opponents size him up but take no aggressive actions. Caprice jogs in place in his corner and awaits his partner.

“His partner hails from The Underground... weighing in at 210 pounds... The Original XTC... Jimmy Raaaave!”

The techno trance track from The Matrix "Leave You Far Behind" by Lunatic Calm begins to play. Rave sprints through the curtain, flinging his sleeveless black Jimmy Rave t-shirt into the crowd of ring rats on the way. He slides into the ring under the bottom rope, coming up to one knee at the ready. He adjusts his baggy silver pants and slowly stands, waiting on the ambush that never comes.

Jimmy Rave immediately demands to start with Smokey Carmichaels, pointing and threatening, but Smokey wants Caprice to step forward. "Ice" does so, albeit reluctantly. Smokey extends a hand for Caprice to shake, and before Rave can caution him against such naivete, Caprice has shaken hands with both Smokey and Rainman. Rainman steps out, and it looks like Smokey is ready to face the man he's been tormenting for the past two months.

Caprice claps in time, trying to get the crowd pumped, but few oblige him. Smokey and Rave lock up in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. Jimmy sidesteps in for a big knee lift to the ribs to take control. He snap mares Smokey down onto his posterior then steps over into a full mount, raining down closed fists until Referee Andrew Thomas pulls him away with a warning.

Jimmy Rave shrugs off the admonishment and steps in, only to get caught with a well-placed thumb to the eye. Now it's Smokey's turn to catch hell from the ref. Rave turns and staggers away to clear his vision, leaving himself open to a kick to the back of the knee from Smokey that takes away his vertical base. Smokey immediately follows up with a few quick elbow drops to the sternum to keep Rave down.

Rave finally sits up, trying to avoid the beatdown. Smokey pulls him up by the neck and snap mares him over, putting him in position for a lashing kick to the spine that makes Rave cringe. Smokey then backpedals to the ropes and bounces off. He somersaults forward and comes out of the tumble into a basement dropkick to the back of the head. Smokey flattens Rave out and takes a lateral press for 1... 2... Rave kicks out strong.

Smokey tags in Rainman. Together they hook Rave up in a pair of front facelocks and take him over with a double suplex. Rainman rolls into the lateral press for 1... 2... Rave manages to kick out again. Caprice Coleman is stomping on the apron, trying to rally Jimmy Rave, but the crowd isn't into it, despite the solid ringwork by these guys thus far.

Rainman starts laying boots into the knee of Jimmy Rave and tries to wrench it back against the grain. Jimmy Rave battles back, using right hands as he struggles up to one leg. Rave hops around as Rainman still has control of his ankle. Rave lashes out with an enziguiri, but Rainman ducks it and maintains his grip on the ankle.

He spins Jimmy Rave around and snares the arm, tucking his head under and lifting around the waist for a back suplex, but Rave flips out and lands on his feet. Rainman turns and EATS a superkick. Jimmy Rave drops into the cover for 1... 2... Rainman rolls his shoulder.

Rave crawls his way over to his corner where Caprice Coleman is reaching in to make the tag. Caprice slingshots himself in and finds Rainman already at a crouch. Caprice pulls Rainman up by the neck and whips him towards a neutral corner. Rainman catches himself before impact and uses the ropes to push himself airborne, presumably to leapfrog the onrushing Coleman, but Coleman catches him on his shoulders in a fireman's carry. Coleman marches out of the corner and throws Rainman into a facebuster a la Brock Lesnar's F-5.

Caprice rolls back and to his feet. He hooks both legs and stacks Rainman up for 1... 2... Smokey Carmichaels is in with an elbow drop to break up the pinfall at 2 1/2.

As Smokey is escorted back out, Caprice Coleman pulls Rainman up by the arm. The Irish whip is reversed, sending Caprice into the ropes. Caprice ducks the telegraphed clothesline and springboards off the middle rope for a spinning heel kick.

Rainman quickly scrambles to his feet only to eat a big right hand. He tries to retaliate in kind, but Caprice blocks it and hits another. Rainman tries again... and is blocked again. Another right hand from Caprice. And ANOTHER, backing Rainman into a neutral corner. Caprice keeps the pressure on with rights and lefts to the body. A loud knife-edge chop leaves Rainman slumped against the buckles.

A corner whip sends Rainman across the ring. Caprice Coleman charges in for a front dropkick, but Rainman manages a desperation sidestep to dodge. Coleman hits the top turnbuckle in a split-legged fashion, somersaulting backward to land on his feet, but Rainman runs him down with a diving forearm shot to the back of the head.

Both men are laid out for a bit with their respective partners shouting encouragement. Rainman is the first to stir, using the ropes to pull himself up. He runs to the far side, bounces off, and hits a baseball slide dropkick that sends Caprice Coleman whirling out under the bottom rope to crash into the ringside railing.

Rainman pursues, stomping Caprice Coleman on the outside until he's crumpled up in a corner. The referee threatens to count them both out, so Rainman rolls back in and marches over to tag out to Smokey Carmichaels. Smokey doesn't climb into the ring, however, instead opting to shuffle down the apron and pull back on the top rope. He looks over his shoulder, measuring Caprice, who is leaning against the railing. Smokey slingshots himself into an asai moonsault that hits the mark, leaving both men wiped out on the concrete.

After a short respite, Smokey rolls Coleman back in and slides in after. He sets Caprice splayed out in the center of the ring and climbs up top. After a dereisive shout of “This should be you, Cracka!” in the direction of Jimmy Rave, Smokey sets himself. Caprice kips up and stumbles into the ropes in desperation to disrupt, causing Smokey to lose his balance momentarily.

Caprice runs up the turnbuckles to stand on the middle ropes as Smokey struggles to steady himself. Caprice gets shoved out of a superplex attempt, but rolls through and back to his feet. He rushes in again, this time all the way up the buckles to the top rope, where he bounces into a top rope rana that gives him the momentum he needed to roll all the way to the hot tag to Jimmy Rave.

Rainman runs in illegally only to get leveled with a running clothesline. Smokey is up and dropes prone to avoid a running clothesline with his name on it, taking Rave down with a drop toe hold. Caprice is in the ring, however, and bounces off the ropes for a shining wizard that lays Smokey out.

All four men are in the ring now as this one has completely broken down. Caprice picks up Rainman and starts laying the fists into him. Meanwhile, Jimmy Rave is ascending the corner. He slaps his thigh, pointing down at Smokey and taunting him.

Steven Prazak has a fit. “Is he going to hit Smokey with his own guillotine leg drop?”

Before he can leap, however, Caprice hits a tumbling somersault senton on Rainman and then comes up near the ropes. He slinghots himself into a moonsault onto Rainman, but the shake of the ropes causes Rave to lose his footing and crotch himself. Rainman, to his credit, gets knees up on the moonsault, leaving Coleman bouncing off clutching his gut.

Rainman helps Smokey up before charging Coleman. He gives Coleman the bum's rush out over the top rope, but Coleman skins the cat into a headscissors that throws Rainman down to the floor instead. Coleman struggles to skin the cat again, his arms flexing with the effort.

Smokey climbs up onto the middle turnbuckle and takes Rave out of the corner with a superplex. He climbs up top and slaps his own thigh, then comes off with the Top Rope Leg Drop across the throat of Jimmy Rave. Caprice Coleman flips back into the ring and turns just a moment too late as Smokey rolls back to hook one baggy silver pant leg and get the 1... 2... 3.

Smokey quickly rolls out to the floor as Caprice is left looking around wondering what just happened. Referee Andrew Thomas heads down to ringside to raise the hands of Smokey Carmichaels and Rainman as Dan "the Dragon" Wilson announces them the winners.

In the ring, Caprice helps Jimmy up, but Jimmy shoves him aside. He isn't picked up on the microphone, but you can still clearly see him mouth “Where the fuck were you?!” Coleman stands dejected, hands on hips, then turns to walk away, but Jimmy Rave follows him.

Down at ringside, Jimmy takes the microphone from Dan Wilson. “Hey! Get back here! Caprice?! What the hell happened, man?” Caprice just throws up his hands and shakes his head. He continues backing up the ramp. “Are you one of them now? Is that it?”

Caprice stops in his tracks, hands on hips again. Slowly, he makes his way back. He rips the microphone from Jimmy's hand and stops any further chatter with an open hand to Jimmy's chest. “Whoa. What do you mean... one of them?” Jimmy struggles to explain, but Caprice has the microphone. “Is that how you think of me? Not as your partner, not as your fellow athlete, but as... one of them?”

“That's not what I meant, and you know it! Can I trust you?! That's what I want to know, because they don't play square like we do, Caprice. They're always looking for an illegal advantage.”

“Can you trust me? Play square? Illegal advantage? Man, you ain't got a clue.”

Caprice slams the microphone into Rave's chest and stomps off, leaving him to ask rhetorically “What kind of answer is that?”

WINNERS: Smokey Carmichaels and Rainman, by pinfall following miscommunication (Smokey Carmichaels over Jimmy Rave with the Top Rope Leg Drop).

I’ll give a ½ star rating. (O:56. C:35. M:77. Caprice Coleman gained 3 points of overness from his ambiguity and in-ring skill. Rainman gained 6 big points of overness from reinforcing his new gimmick.)

2. In the Hizzy:

After Jimmy slinks to the back, Dan "the Dragon" Wilson is back for introductions.

“The following contest...”

“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...”

“Yo, yo, YO! Cut the music!”

Slim J is out with a microphone and Jeff G. Bailey in tow. The crowd immediately gives them a raucously negative reaction, including mocking laughs at Bailey's "ring attire", a baby blue velour jogging suit. Bailey pats Slim on the back and curiously lets him do his own talking.

“NWA Elite in the hizz-ouse! Yeah! Recognize! But, yo, before we kick the bitch out of Jeremy V, we gotta make some shizznit crystal, y'know wha I'm sayin'? Slim J ain't nobody's beeyotch. Not yours, Jeremy... not my boy Bill Behrens'... not B-Dub's... not even yours, Jeffy G.”

Bailey seems a little taken aback, but offers a faltering grin just the same.

“So I ain't gonna take no shortcuts, dawg, especially not now when mah career's takin' off like a cruise missile aimed at superstardom. We gon' do this, we gon' do it right and tight. I ain't takin' no handicap.”

Jeff G. Bailey's unease grows with each word that slips past Slim's lips. He gestures to take the microphone, but Slim pulls it away and turns his back on his manager/partner.

“I been an unda-dawg ever since I took up the mic as a white boy in diapers throwin' down phat nursery rhymes. So, Jeremy V... You look around tha back and you find ya-self a tag partner. Even a dirty grunge-punk like you should be able to find a friend unda a rock, and we make this dealie two-on-two. I ain't waitin' all night, though, for you to canvas the whole damn town, so pick a patsy and let's roll.”

Slim politely passes the microphone to Dan "the Dragon" Wilson, leaving Jeff G. Bailey almost in panic mode, pacing like an expectant father. Slim tries to calm Bailey down, but it doesn't seem to be working very well. Eventually, he kisses his fingers and points to the crowd, which continues to jeer them, while Bailey follows behind, tugging at his own hair.

(Interview: 67. Slim J gained 2 points of overness from being suprisingly honorable.)

3. Slim J & Jeff G. Bailey (-H-) vs. Jeremy V & ? (-F-):

“Heart breaker, soul shaker...

I've been told about you

Steamroller, midnight stroller...

What they've been saying must be true

Red hot mama, vel-vet charmer...

Time's come to pay your dues

Now you're messin' with a

A son of a bitch

Now you're messin' with a son of a bitch...”

Guns N'Roses' cover of Nazareth's "Hair of the Dog" continues to play as out walks the former Wildside CEO, Rick Michaels. Michaels is dressed in street clothes, a grey polo shirt, dress slacks, and shoes, but with his ubiquitous black headband intact. Jeremy V follows close behind in his usual red tights and wrist tape ensemble.

Last time we saw Rick Michaels, he had been laid out by Barry Windham and lost his CEO position at Arena Wars. He climbs up onto the apron and points at Jeff G. Bailey who predictably cowers. Rick shakes hands with Jeremy V and offers words of encouragement.

Slim J puts his hands up, telling a distraught Jeff G. Bailey that he's got everything covered. He points to Rick Michaels and challenges him. “Let's go, old man,” he says.

Rick Michaels looks at Jeremy V, amused. Jeremy merely shrugs his shoulders and pats his mentor on the back, telling him “Go take care o' business.” Michaels lifts off his polo shirt, clearly fishing for a ring rat pop, but he doesn't get a real warm welcome. He circles Slim J and slaps his shoulders, chomping gum and ready to rumble.

They lock up and Michaels quickly pushes the smaller man into the ropes. We get a clean break, but only briefly before Michaels whips Slim across. Michaels sets himself in the center of the ring and throws Slim in a high hip toss, but Slim lands on his feet and charges in. Rick Michales slaps his shoulder and goes for a deep arm-drag, but Slim quickly lashes out with a boot to kick out of it and kip up.

Both men stare each other down for a dreaded indy respect stance. Rick Michaels nods his approval at his former pupil. Slim flips him off to keep his heel heat.

Rick Michaels shakes his head at the show of disrespect and holds his hands up, looking for a fingerlace lock up. Slim steps in, seemingly about to oblige, but gives Michaels a thumb to the eye, showing an old dog can still fall for old tricks. A boot to the gut doubles Rick Michaels over. Slim backs into the ropes for a bounce and comes off with a big front flip neckbreaker.

Slim rolls through and to his feet, hitting the far ropes at a sprint. Rick Michaels scrambles up in time to try a leapfrog, but Slim stops short, catches him around the waist, and, while struggling with the bigger man, manages to muscle him into a wheelbarrow. He lifts Michaels into the air and catches him in a half nelson suplex.

Slim J hooks a leg and rolls across Michaels' chest for 1... 2... Michaels shoots his shoulder up.

Slim J lays a few boots into Michaels neck, softening it up, then pulls him back to a vertical base by it. He guides Michaels over to heel territory and shocks Jeff G. Bailey with a tag. Bailey throws his hands up and shakes his head, wanting no part of it, but Slim is insistant. He points to Bailey and thumbs to himself, indicating that they're about to engage in some double teaming, regardless of what Bailey wants.

With Slim J calling the shots and Jeremy V protesting from the apron, they whip Michaels into the ropes. They hit a double back elbow that staggers Michaels. Slim puts his hands up for a high five, but Bailey leaves him hanging and opts to run his arch-rival down with a sloppy clothesline instead. Bailey fell with the effort as well and quickly crawls into a cover for 1... 2... Rick Michaels easily tosses the opportunist aside.

Slim J steps out through the ropes onto the apron and Jeff G. Bailey panics. He crawls on hands and knees towards his corner for the tag, but Rick Michaels reaches out and grabs him by the waistband of his velour jogging pants. Bailey practically crawls out of them, giving ticketholders more than they bargained for.

Thankfully, Rick Michaels gets back to his feet and spins Jeff G. Bailey around. He chomps his gum and smiles. Bailey begs off, then tries a sneak attack with a wild right hand. Rick Michaels no-sells it and spits his gum into Bailey's face.

Bailey tries throwing another, but Rick Michaels easily catches it. He squeezes Bailey's fist, driving the weasel to one knee, then lets go and turns away. When Bailey gets up clutching his hand in agony, Michaels stutter-steps in without looking and blasts him with a sloppy superkick, earning groans from the crowd. Ugh.

Rick Michaels doesn't acknowledge the crowd souring on him and instead picks Bailey up. Bailey is all dead weight, possibly selling unconsciousness. Michaels drags him over to his corner and tags in Jeremy V.

Rick Michaels holds Jeff G. Bailey in a bear hug while Jeremy climbs in and pulls himself up into a seated position on the top turnbuckle. He comes off the middle buckles with a seemingly unnecessary flying neckbreaker.

Jeremy V pulls Bailey up by the arm and looks to continue the punishment. One could assume that this sadistic streak is part of Jeremy V's warning about “unleashing the demons inside.” Whatever, it's not going over well tonight.

A corner whip buries Bailey against the buckles. Jeremy V charges in and runs up the buckles to hit his VKO shining wizard. Ouch. Bailey is about to flop out of the corner, but Jeremy props him up against the turnbuckles. He throws his hand up and points, shouting “One more time!”

Jeremy V backs up and prepares to deliver another VKO, but Slim J heads down the apron to save his manager. Jeremy charges in as Slim hops up onto the top. Jeremy is unable to stop in time to avoid eating the missile dropkick.

Slim drags the lifeless Jeff G. Bailey to his corner and steps back out onto the apron while Referee Andrew Thomas protests. Slim reaches out and slaps Bailey on the shoulder before climbing right back in, now legal.

Jeremy V gets up and checks his mouth for blood. Slim J stomps towards him angrily and lashes out with a boot to the gut. He locks in a double underhook and throws Jeremy V in a hard butterfly suplex.

Slim rushes to a neutral corner and quickly climbs up to the top. He points to Rick Michaels and grabs his crotch to taunt while waiting for Jeremy V to get back up. When Jeremy does, staggering, Slim leaps off and nails the 3-6 Mafia Kick, his top rope twisting roundhouse kick. Slim hooks both legs deep and leans back over Jeremy's chest for 1... 2... 3-NO! Rick Michaels is in for the save and more booing.

Right hands from Rick Michaels drive Slim J to the ropes. Michaels pulls down Slim's wifebeater to hit a loud knife-edge chop, then runs to the far side. He bounces off the ropes, but Slim ducks low and backdrops the veteran out over the top rope in a nasty spill.

Slim turns and knocks Jeremy V back down with a running leg lariat. He reaches down to pull Jeremy up by the neck and gets caught with a jawbreaker. Slim comes up holding his chin and eats a right hand. Slim tries to retaliate in kind, but Jeremy blocks it and hits an elbow smash to the top of the head. A knife-edge chop continues to back Slim up. Jeremy hits another right hand to knock Slim into the corner.

Jeremy whips Slim across into the opposite buckles and runs in right after... VKO! Slim J staggers out of the corner and drops spread-eagle in the center of the ring. Jeremy slingshots himself up to the top and sets himself. He throws up the double V salute to no response and leaps. He nails the Moonsault! 1... 2... 3.

WINNERS: Jeremy V and Rick Michaels, cleanly by pinfall (Jeremy V over Slim J with the Moonsault).

I’ll give a ½ star rating. (O:49. C:37. M:61. Rick Michaels debuted his new Mentor gimmick. It got a negative response, making him 0 for 2 in the gimmick game. Sigh. Jeremy V and Jeff G. Bailey each gained 3 points of overness from their sadism and willingness to take an ass-whipping respectively.)

4. Bad Attitude:

Jeremy V rolls out to the floor and throws his hands up in the double V salute yet again. He catches up with Rick Michaels, who is still dazed after his harsh landing. Jeremy hugs him and they start heading to the back.

Suddenly, current Wildside CEO Barry Windham comes striding down the aisle, visibly furious. Jeremy V tries to talk him down, but Windham merely shoves him aside to get at Michaels. The two trade punches until Windham cuts him off with a knee to the gut. Windham backs up and hits a big Lariat that levels his predecessor.

Jeremy V bends down to attend to his mentor and gets kicked aside with a big cowboy boot for his trouble. Windham starts laying straight fists into Michaels' forehead, bloodying it. The crowd murmurs as someone races down the aisle and skids to a halt behind Windham.

David Young shuffles in place, gesturing impatiently for Windham to turn around. When the West Texas Redneck does, he gets lifted and planted with a big spinebuster, earning a cheer. Young pulls his Bad Attitude partner, Rick Michaels, up and helps him to the back with Jeremy V following along.

(Singles Face Turn via Save: 55. Rick Michaels gained 5 points of overness from remembrances of better days in Bad Attitude. David Young gained 2 points of overness from his big return. His turn was completed, and he is now a face. He gained an additional 2 points of overness from this turn.)

5. Adam Windsor w/Dory Funk Jr. (-F-) vs. Jeremy Lopez w/Dean Malenko (-H-) in a Submission Match:

After ringside is cleared and a brief intermission, Dan "the Dragon" Wilson gets back in the ring for introductions.

“Ladies and gentlemen... The following contest is a Submission Match! There are no pinfalls and no countouts, the winner is the man who makes his opponent tap out or verbally submit. Introducing FIRST... weighing 214 pounds... accompanied to the ring by former NWA World Heavyweight Champion and LEGEND, Dory Funk Jr. ... from Coventry, England... royally bred of royal blood... THIS is The Royal Stud... Adam Wiiiindsor!”

"Pomp and Circumstance" begins to play and out walks "The Royal Stud" Adam Windsor. His sweeping red-white-and-blue sequined robe drags the floor as he makes his way to the ring with NWA legend Dory Funk Jr. following behind. Dory wears his "Funkin' Dojo" baseball cap and has a towel draped over his shoulder. Adam climbs into the ring and gently folds up his robe before passing it down to dutiful Dory.

Adam's ready to go in a royal blue singlet, kneepads, and thick black boots. He tests the ropes a bit and paces. Dory also calls him over to get a few last minute strategy tips.

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

"I Want It All" by Queen plays Jeremy Lopez and his mentor Dean Malenko to the ring. Both are grim and determined. Lopez is already covered in a sheen of sweat, his hair dripping with water. He hands his plastic water bottle to Malenko, who caps it and tosses it carelessly over his shoulder and into the crowd without looking.

“And his opponent... accompanied to the ring by The Shooter, Dean Malenko... hailing from Tampa, Florida... weighing in at 187 pounds... Jeremy Loooopez!”

Lopez demands that Referee Chris Emerson back Windsor up before he'll enter the ring. He slips off his red kanji t-shirt, balls it up, and tosses it disrespectfully at Dory. If Dean Malenko's amused, he doesn't let on, but his poker face doesn't betray any disapproval either.

Jeremy finally gets in the ring and kicks at the bottom rope in the direction of Dory, now demanding that HE get back. Dory begrudgingly concedes and retreats to the ringside railing. Lopez leans over the ropes and tells some fans to “Shut up! Shut up!”, but nobody was really saying much of anything, and it does little to get them started. Adam Windsor takes all of this with either the patience of a saint or the focus of a man who knows his opportunity lies just ahead.

Lopez rubs his hands together and circles before lunging into a collar-and-elbow tie up to get this one rolling. Windsor shifts to a side headlock and cranks it up, getting approval from his mentor at ringside. Jeremy muscles out into a top wristlock, but Adam Windsor is able to quickly reverse that into a hammerlock. Lopez slaps at his shoulder and tries to circle out, but Windsor keeps pace with him, maintaining the hold.

Jeremy Lopez eventually drops to one knee in pain and rolls out to come up behind Adam Windsor and lock in a full nelson. Adam Windsor slides his hands in, grabbing Jeremy's wrists and trying to power out of the hold. He gets some separation and ducks behind, returning to the hammerlock, cranking it up hard to make a statement and punctuate it.

A low mule kick from Jeremy Lopez breaks the hold and gets him some grief from both Referee Chris Emerson AND Dory Funk Jr. Deano Machino remains unfazed. Lopez blows them both off and shakes some feeling back into his arm while Adam Windsor stumbles around holding his crotch.

Jeremy runs his fingers through his hair and then wiggles them in the direction of Adam Windsor, impatiently requesting... no, DEMANDING a fingerlace test of strength. When Windsor unhands his crown jewels to take the bait, Lopez lashes out with a cheap shot kick to the gut, but Windsor is wily to his ways by now and catches the boot. He spins Lopez around and sort of catches him in motion with a glancing knife-edge chop. Lopez returns the favor and both men exchange a few chops, each trying to outdo the other.

Knife-edge chops get abandoned in favor of forearms to the face, with the pace quickening until they aren't even taking turns any more, just blasting each other simultaneously. Windsor sadly doesn't seem to have much on his. Lopez is the first to break rhythm, ducking a forearm shot, spinning, and coming up with the roaring elbow! Windsor's jaw spins, taking the rest of his body with it a few seconds after as he falls into the ropes.

Jeremy Lopez catches him on the rebound for a big back suplex that folds him up. Windsor rolls backward and returns to a shaky vertical base. A gutshot from Jeremy Lopez doubles him over, a Yakuza kick to the side of the head sends him reeling away, and a quick reverse neckbreaker completes the Ichiban Sequence!

Lopez grabs Windsor's legs and starts locking in the Texas Cloverleaf, but Adam Windsor sits up and starts throwing weak fists to break it up. He eventually gets his feet free and plants them in the gut of Jeremy Lopez. He falls backwards, throwing Lopez with a monkey flip, but Jer-Lo nimbly lands on his feet. Windsor kips up and turns to hit Lopez right in the mouth with the Superkick!

Jeremy Lopez drops like he's been shot. Adam Windsor grabs him by a boot and drags him to the center of the ring. Adam keeps hold of the boot and twists, setting up the Funk trademark Spinning Toe Hold. Lopez was playing a bit of possum, however, and reaches up to pull Windsor into a small package that gets... nothing, since pinfalls don't count in this match.

He would've got seven or so, however, before Windsor springs free and both men scramble to their feet. Lopez strikes first with a Yakuza kick that sends Windsor tumbling through the ropes and out to the floor at his mentor's feet. Lopez stomps in frustration and holds up three fingers, crowing about how he had the pinfall that could've... would've... should've counted, but didn't.

After a bit of heelish bitching, Jeremy drops prone and rolls to the outside to pursue his quarry. Dory backs down, but reluctantly, almost daring Jeremy to give him a reason to whip the young punk's ass. Lopez is smarter than that, and chooses to pull Windsor up by his long blonde locks instead.

Jeremy tells Funk to “Watch and learn, old man!” He then spins and uncorks another roaring elbow. This one knocks Adam Windsor over the railing and into the front row. Lopez pulls out the railing while security holds the crowd back. He hops up onto it and leaps for a tornado DDT, but Adam catches him on his shoulder and backdrops Lopez into a row of chairs.

Lopez comes up holding the small of his back and wincing. Adam turns and nails an exhausted step-up enziguiri, leaving both men laid out in the stands. There's no count outs, so the referee is forced to simply hover near security, waiting for both men to recover.

Adam Windsor is the first to get up, and he starts dragging Lopez by the hair back towards the ring. He throws Lopez over the railing and then hops over. Lopez is up, however, and an Irish whip sends Windsor face-first into the ring post, where he slumps.

Jeremy Lopez slaps his forearm and grins maliciously. He gets a head of steam... spins... and hits with the roaring elbow! Only problem is that Adam Windsor dove out of the way and Lopez connected solidly with the unforgiving steel ring post. Lopez drops to one knee, clutching his forearm and howling in agony. Adam Windsor throws his head back, and his long blonde hair is streaked with crimson. Blood is gushing from the gash in his forehead where he had his own close encounter with the post.

A few half-hearted punches keep Lopez reeling until Adam rolls him back in under the bottom rope. He reaches in to grab the bad arm and wrap it around the bottom rope. Jeremy Lopez is begging off, trying to get away, but Adam Windsor is hardly sympathetic. He puts one boot up on the apron and falls backward, yanking on the wrist and slamming the arm against the mat.

Windsor keeps hold of the arm, and Lopez shakes his head to indicate that he's not ready to give up just yet, but Referee Chris Emerson lays on the count for a rope break. There won't be a submission with one man in the ring and the other outside. Adam lets go to climb back in, but Lopez is already scrambling away on all fours, trying to make it to the far side and Dean Malenko.

Adam catches hold of his boot and drags him back to the center of the ring. He twists into the Spinning Toe Hold, but Jeremy lashes out with his other boot to the face to break it up. He struggles to hook both of Adam's arms behind his back as he gets up. He leaps into a double underhook tornado DDT. Despite the obvious pain, he keeps the double chickenwing hooked and lifts Adam into a tiger driver that took a lot out of him. Jeremy Lopez then reaches down and tries to apply the Texas Cloverleaf, but his arm is clearly giving him trouble.

Referee Chris Emerson slides into position to check on the hold. Lopez grits his teeth and manages to turn, locking it in, but it's no picnic.Lopez nods his head emphatically as Malenko shouts encouragement at ringside, trying to coach him to the finish. Funk performs similarly for his own protege, clapping and trying to get the crowd rallying behind Windsor.

Adam starts clawing his way towards the ropes. His face is covered in blood now, and he's leaving a trail as he inches his way towards freedom. Lopez's emphatic nodding soon becomes back and forth head shakes of denial as he is unable to keep Windsor from clawing at the mat and finding fleeting moments of purchase that get him closer and closer to the rope break.

The back-and-forth struggle goes on for a few agonizing moments until Alicia Webb comes click-clacking down the aisle in her stiletto heels. She begs and pleads with Dory, pointing at the ring where her newfound beau is bleeding profusely and practically sobbing. Dory takes the towel in one hand and looks at his pupil... at Alicia... at the fans, who give him nothing to go on... at the referee... and back at a seemingly defeated Adam Windsor, who is now face-down on the canvas.

Dory shakes his head and pitches in the towel. It lands next to Referee Chris Emerson, who turns and signals for the bell, but behind him... a mere split second later... Adam Windsor throws his hand out and firmly grabs hold of the bottom rope.

The bell rings and Jeremy Lopez falls face first to the canvas holding his arm, eager to release the hold and utterly exhausted. Dory Funk Jr. and Alicia Webb are immediately in the ring to check on Windsor, but he refuses to let go of the bottom rope. He seems dazed and confused from loss of blood, but they struggle to drag him out of the ring, still clutching the ring rope. Dory and Alicia prop him up and help carry him to the back, while Malenko congratulates Lopez and rubs his shoulder with pride.

WINNER: Jeremy Lopez, by submission to the Texas Cloverleaf thanks to an overly squeamish Alicia Webb.

It was close to a ** match, but one too many blown spots knocks it down to a *½ rating. (O:59. C:45. M:74. Adam Windsor gained 2 points of overness from this feud ending. The final victor, Jeremy Lopez, gained 6.)

6. Onyx (-F-) vs. Lazarus w/Sylvian Grenier (-H-) in a Gallows Guignol Match:

With ringside cleared, the scaffolding is brought into position for this unique gimmick match. A thick rope hangs from a pulley under the center of the scaffolding. At the end of the rope dangles an ominous noose.

“Judgment Niiiight!

Judgment Night! Got gun? Got badge? Judgment Night!

Judgment Night! In the echo of a gunblast... Judgment Niiiight!

Over here and bust the way,

Crush a sucka gutter,

Sun don't cease at a hundred degrees, I'm coolin' in your freezer...

He's a breezer...

I hits it up with that bald-faced rap... I sinks to the crack...

And I make shit get wild...”

Instead of "Slam", we get a special Fright Night exclusive entrance for "The Genetic Specimen." Onyx and Biohazard sing the title track off of the now ten year old film "Judgment Night." Recorded, obviously, not live in person. It's appropriate enough for this grim blow-off match.

“Ladies and gentlemen... The following contest is a... uh... Gallows Guignol Match! There are no pinfalls, no countouts, and NO disqualifications. The winner is the man who puts the noose around his opponent's neck... climbs the scaffold... and drops off holding the other end of the rope, until the loser hangs!

Introducing FIRST... weighing in at 217 pounds... from Jamaica City, Queens in The Big Apple... The Genetic Specimen... THIS... is... Onyx!”

Onyx stalks out in a black satin hooded boxing robe trimmed with white, all business. He doesn't bother slapping hands with fans, instead climbing right into the ring and making a beeline for the noose. He slaps it with his hand, sending it swaying, then throws his hood back. He shrugs out of the robe and takes a sneering, flexing, bodybuilder pose, showing off his physique.

“His opponent... accompanied by Sylvian Grenier of the Cirque de Sade... from Kentwood, Louisiana... weighing 183 pounds... Laaaazarus!”

We take a 180 degree departure from the rap/hardcore fusion and straight into the gothtastic carnival music "Seasons of the Dead" by Deathwatch Beetle Repairman. Cirque de Sade come out in all their French regalia. Sylvian Grenier takes Lazarus' ring robe and blows him a kiss for "bon chance."

Lazarus saunters around ringside, taking his sweet time starting things off and drying to drum up a wave of heel heat as he flounces past the fans. Sylvian Grenier, meanwhile, yammers some unkind words in French. At least one could assume they're unkind. It's not like anyone else in attendance actually understands him.

Language barrier or not, Onyx leans over the ropes and sticks a big black finger in Grenier's face, ordering him to “Stay the fuck out of it!” This gives Lazz the opportunity he was looking for, and he slides into the ring behind Onyx to ambush him from behind with a series of clubbing forearms. Onyx no-sells them as more of an annoyance than anything else. He's about to turn when Lazz starts giving him his version of "The Big Wiggle," gyrating his hips against the big black man's glutes.

Onyx predictably grows furious and wheels around, but Lazz is already fleeing to the far side of the ring. Onyx pursues, right into Lazz's hands, and gets thrown out over the top rope. Lazarus climbs out onto the apron and measures his stunned foe. Once Onyx is back up, Lazz leaps off for a diving clothesline.

Lazarus sets Onyx against the railing and gets back up onto the apron. He pulls back on the top rope and slingshots himself into a springboard back elbow. Lazz spends some time pushing Onyx throat-first into the ringside railing, choking him. Referee Chris Emerson tries to get Lazz to stop and take it back into the ring where the noose hangs at the ready, but there's no disqualification, so Lazz blows him off.

In fact, with no DQ, Lazz is able to get some assistance from Grenier, who holds Onyx in position while Lazz returns to the apron. He leaps off for a twisting leg drop, but Onyx throws Grenier aside and sidesteps, causing Lazz to crash into the railing. Onyx takes this opportunity to take Grenier out of the equation, hitting him with a knee lift and then pressing him overhead for a snake eyes onto the railing. It looked like Grenier didn't catch himself fully and really took that ugly. Ouch. Grenier comes up holding his neck and Emerson throws the "X" up for some legit medical assistance, confirming suspicions. Uh-oh.

Onyx pulls Lazz off of the railing and rolls him back into the ring. He climbs in and scores with a spinning back kick to the gut that doubles Lazz over. Onyx gets hold of Lazz's wrist and whips him into the ropes. He catches Lazz on the rebound for a crisp scoop powerslam.

Onyx pops up and grabs hold of the noose. He puts it over Lazz's head and marches to the scaffolding. He gets about halfway up when Lazz has extricated himself from the rope and started pursuing him. Onyx turns and sets himself on one of the rungs. He levels Lazz with a big diving shoulder block. Onyx pushes himself up, sure to flex his biceps with the effort, and gets back up. He pulls Lazarus up by the wrist and yanks him into a short-arm clothesline that turns him inside-out.

"The Genetic Specimen" pulls Lazz up in a rear waistlock, setting up a German suplex. Lazz hits a mule kick between the legs to break it up, however, and pulls out a standing switch. He bundles Onyx forward and hard into the turnbuckles.

Lazz hits the perpendicular ropes to get a bounce for a running clothesline that staggers Onyx but fails to drop him. Lazz locks in a waistlock and throws Onyx behind him in an impressive if improbable overhead belly-to-belly suplex that leaves Onyx in a crumpled heap against the turnbuckles. Lazz runs to the far corner and circles wide, building up steam for a stiff basement dropkick to the face.

Lazarus rolls out to the floor to retrieve a steel chair. He slides in with it and clobbers Onyx one time before setting it in front of his face and getting some distance. Lazz looks to run in for another dropkick, this time into the chair, but Onyx gets up and takes a wild swing at him. Lazz slides under the chairshot and comes up in the corner. Onyx turns and walks into a drop toe hold that sends him face-first into both the chair and the buckles. The chair falls to the concrete floor with a clatter.

Lazarus pulls Onyx up by the neck and wipes some blood off of his bald dome and onto his white shirt, leaving a scarlet smear. Lazz sets himself in a seated position on the top turnbuckle. He hits a few pelvic thrusts into the face of Onyx, then hooks him in a front facelock. He leaps off for a tornado DDT, but Onyx reverses into a running powerslam into the corner. He keeps hold of Lazz and runs him to the opposite side, then buries him in the center for a Jamaica City Stampede!

Onyx wipes the blood from his eyes and then flexes a bicep before falling into a big elbow drop to the sternum. He pulls Lazz up in an inverted facelock and spins, spiking him with the Exclamation Point (aka Test Drive, Roll of the Dice, etc.). Onyx starts applying the noose, but Lazz gets a desperation thumb to the eye and wraps the rope around Onyx's neck to choke him down to one knee.

Lazz continues the choke by putting the noose around the neck of Onyx and then pulling on the rope while planting his boot firmly in the back of Onyx's skull. He hits the ropes at a sprint. Bouncing off, he charges in for The Brittany Spear, but Onyx catches him in a front facelock instead and spins for The Blaq Out implant DDT! The crowd cheers this reversal of fortune!

Onyx is at the noose's limit, choking against the taut rope. He pulls it off and then slips it over Lazz's head. Onyx begins to climb the scaffolding. At the top, he strikes a bodybuilder pose before untying the other end and dropping down to the canvas, pulling Lazz up until he's strangling and choking. Lazz's feet leave the canvas, and Referee Chris Emerson quickly calls for the bell. Satisfied, the bloody Onyx lets go of the rope, dumping Lazz to the mat. Lazz flees down to the floor, still trapped in the noose and panicking.

Eventually, Referee Chris Emerson is able to free Lazarus, who collapses at ringside in a sputtering, gasping heap. Onyx slaps hands with fans as he circles the ring and his music plays. He stops at the bottom of the aisle and points at Lazz, then throws his hands out and shouts “We're done, freakshow! It's over!” After Lazarus is escorted away, we get our second brief intermission of the evening while the scaffold is wheeled away.

WINNER: Onyx, by hanging, as per the match stipulations.

**½ rating for a decent contest. (O:71. C:58. M:84. Onyx gained 6 points of overness from this feud ending. Lazarus gained 3. Sylvian Grenier suffered a neck injury that will keep him out of action for 8 months. Eek!)

7. John Hennigan (-F-) vs. Sal del Rio w/Desire (-H-) (For the NWA-W Junior Heavyweight Title):

Neil Young's voice and guitar ring out over the P.A. as "Rockin' in the Free World" begins to play.

“The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL and is for the Wildside... Junior... Heavyweight... Championship! Introducing the CHALLENGER... from Los Angeles, California... weighing in at 201 pounds... John Hennigaaaan!”

Hennigan comes through the curtain looking GQ as always, neat and trim. He wears simple black trunks, kneepads, and boots, generic but classic rookie attire. John jogs in place for a bit, warming up and spending time with the ring rats before slingshotting himself into the ring.

“His opponent is the reigning and defending NWA Wildside Junior Heavyweight Champion... from Hollywood, SALifornia... weighing 187 pounds... accompanied to the ring by Every Man's Desire... Sal del Rrrrio!”

"Physical" by Olivia Newton-John plays as Desire leads Sal through the curtain. While he holds the title belt over his head, she unzips his jogging suit and pulls it down. He steps out of it and passes the strap to her so he can strike an HBKesque comical muscle pose. Desire shoulders the title and gives him a round of applause.

Sal climbs into the ring and claps as he circles, trying to get the crowd to pick it up. He fiddles with his ponytail, then lunges in for a collar-and-elbow tie-up. He picks a leg, dropping Hennigan onto his back. Sal shifts into a step-over wristlock, twisting the arm until Hennigan struggles back up to his feet.

John Hennigan rolls forward and reverses, then adopts a side headlock. Sal pushes him to the ropes and then shoves him off across. Sal drops prone, so Hennigan hops over him and hits the near side. Sal catches him on the rebound for a big high hip toss, but Hennigan lands on his feet and spins. Sal turns right into a spinning heel kick that levels him.

Sal scrambles up as Hennigan hits the ropes for a bounce. Sal ducks under the onrushing Hennigan, who flies over in a backdrop, but rolls through to hop up straight onto the middle of the top rope. He hovers there for a second, getting his balance, then leaps for a twisting flying bodypress that catches Sal flush for 1... 2... Sal kicks out strong and immediately rolls to the outside to get consoled by Desire.

Sal spends some time teasing a count out, waving off both Referee Chris Emerson and his opponent, threatening to take his title and go home with the loss, but Desire eventually convinces him to give it another try. He climbs back into the ring and tentatively locks up again. Sal is able to quickly score a side headlock, and you'd think he'd just won the lottery, as he's a proud, proud young man, nodding his newfound confidence down at an applauding Desire.

He takes Hennigan to the ropes and shoves him across. When Hennigan bounces back, Sal catches him around the waist for a tilt-a-whirl reverse mat slam. He waits on Hennigan and hits a high standing dropkick right on the proverbial nose. A lateral press gets 1... 2... Hennigan kicks out.

Sal protests with Emerson, clapping his hands to indicate the proper pacing for 1... 2... 3. Sal continues the lesson by pulling Hennigan up in a front facelock and getting a grip on the waistband of his trunks. He lifts John Hennigan in a vertical suplex position and delays it while he and Desire count aloud. 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... and so on until 18... 19... 20! He comes up and gets right into the face of Emerson, shouting “That's twenty FREAKING seconds, moron!” He covers and hooks a leg for 1... 2... Hennigan gets his shoulder up.

Sal pulls Hennigan up by the wrist and tries an Irish whip into the corner, but Hennigan plants his boot and reverses. He charges in, but Sal leapfrogs and catches Hennigan in a standing headscissors. He hooks Hennigan around the waist and lifts him into powerbomb position, but drops backward instead, slamming Hennigan face-first into the top turnbuckle.

John Hennigan stumbles backwards into a bodyscissors takeover that puts his shoulders to the mat for 1... 2... 3.

NO! Hennigan pops free just in time. Sal whips Hennigan into the ropes. He catches him on the rebound for a big backdrop with lots of surplus air. He pulls Hennigan up and sends him back into the ropes. Hennigan ducks the telegraphed back elbow and rebounds off the far side. He leaps into a satellite headscissors, but comes down beside del Rio for a side Russian legsweep. A lateral press gets 1... 2... Sal kicks out, so Hennigan hooks a leg for 1... 2... Sal gets his shoulder up, so Hennigan mounts him and starts raining down fists to the forehead.

Hennigan carries Sal to the corner and drives a shoulder into his ribs. He lifts Sal up and sits him on the top turnbuckle. John uses the bottom rope to step up and hit a forearm shot to the face. He climbs up onto the top and puts Sal in a front facelock. A superplex plants Sal in the center of the ring. Hennigan rolls into the lateral press for 1... 2... 3.

NO! Sal shoots his shoulder up to keep his title, even if for a mere few moments more. John pulls Sal up by the arm and whips him to the ropes, but Sal reverses and sets himself too soon. Hennigan hops onto the middle rope, springboarding off into a flying axe handle that smashes Sal flat.

Hennigan pulls Sal up, hits a shoulder block to the ribs, then lifts Sal bodily to run him into the corner. He backs up and hits a big knee to the midsection. Hennigan hits elbows and forearms to the back of the neck while Sal tries to get away. His hand forced by the flurry of offense, he retaliates with some desperate fists.

John Hennigan pushes Sal against the ropes and whips him across. Sal ducks the telegraphed clothesline and jumps onto the second rope for a springboard, but Hennigan ducks and he flips over him to land on his feet. Hennigan turns and gets plastered with a superkick.

Sal sits, legs across Hennigan's shoulders, and rolls him over, face down on the canvas. He grabs the arms and pulls, trying to grind Hennigan down. Hennigan eventually pops free and tries a spinning heel kick, but Sal catches the boot. He smiles and wags a finger in the face of Hennigan, saying “Nah-nah-nah.” He spins Hennigan around and catches him around the waist for an inverted atomic drop that sends Hennigan reeling into the ropes.

Sal hits the ropes on the opposite side and slingshots himself over onto the apron. Hennigan charges right into a slingshot tornado DDT that spikes Hennigan harshly. Sal pulls him up by the arm and pumphandles him in position for the Phoenix Fury Legdrop (really a pumphandle Michinoku driver II and not a leg drop at all). Hennigan drops out the back, however, and shoves Sal forward to collide with Referee Chris Emerson and knock him clear out of the ring.

Sal stands with his hands up in the universal “I didn't do anything!” posture. He turns and gets caught with a high standing dropkick from Hennigan that sends him tumbling out over the top rope and right on top of Emerson, who had JUST made it to all fours.

Desire is over to help her man up, and now Hennigan is rolling his arms, signalling for a shooting star press. He runs to the far side for a bounce, sprints over, and leaps nimbly up onto the middle of the top rope. Desire tries to beg off as he pauses, motioning for her to get out of the damn way. When she does, and Hennigan leaps, he gets blasted in the face by Sal del Rio and the NWA-W Junior Heavyweight Title belt. A “Holy shit! Holy shit!” chant breaks out.

Sal rolls Hennigan in and covers, but the referee is still out. Desire pulls him up and throws him into the ring. Emerson crawls over to count 1... 2... 3.

Desire is barely in the ring to hand the belt off to her man when she's forced to clear out with a panicked scream. Kid Kool slides into the ring and snatches the belt away from Sal. He spins and waffles him with it. Sal is laid out and bloodied as Kool helps an equally bloody John Hennigan to his feet.

Kid Kool hands the belt to Hennigan and raises his hand, but the ref pulls it down and takes the title. Kool protests, pantomiming the belt shot, but Emerson insists that his decision is final. Somebody should tell Kid Kool that the belt wouldn't have changed hands on a DQ anyway, but that's neither here nor there. Kool and Hennigan depart while Desire helps Sal up and practically carries both him and the title to the back.

WINNER: Sal del Rio retains by pinfall after an undetected title belt shot to the face.

Worth a ** rating, but no more than that. (O:61. C:52. M:71. The NWA-W Junior Heavyweight Title gained 4 points of image.)

8. Kendall Windham (-H-) vs. Scottie Wrenn (-F-) in a Cage Match (For the NWA-W Heavyweight Title):

After the lowering of the cage and the associated music, the crowd's anticipation is killed by Garth Brooks' "Friends in Low Places." Kendall Windham saunters down the aisle, branding iron in one hand and belt buckle in the other with the strap wrapped around his fist.

“Introducing FIRST, the CHALLENGER... weighing 260 pounds... from the Mulligan Ranch in Sweetwater, Texas... Kendall Wiiiindham!”

Kendall checks the integrity of the cage and spits his chaw in the direction of some heckling fans.

“And his OPPONENT...”

Dan "the Dragon" Wilson doesn't get a chance to finish his introductions before the champion, Scottie Wrenn, comes barrelling down the aisle and blasts Windham in the back of the head with a crutch, shattering it. Wrenn tosses the title belt over the top of the cage and into the ring, startling Senior Referee Speedy Nelson.

Wrenn rams Kendall face-first into the cage wall. Scottie repeats the spot a few times to keep Kendall stunned, then goes back behind the curtain. He returns with a garbage can full of hardcore plunder and barks at Speedy to “open the goddamn cage door” so he can throw it in. Speedy tries to resist, but Wrenn's pretty insistent, crazy, and in a violent mood, so he steps aside like a matador.

Windham tries to gain entrance to the cage, only to have Wrenn kick the cage door into his grill. Wrenn throws Kendall into the ring and then watches intently as the cage door gets padlocked. Pinfalls only in this bad boy, none of that “escape the cage” bullshit. Nodding with sadistic satisfaction, Wrenn turns right into a branding iron shot from Windham.

Kendall chokes Wrenn with his belt for a bit, then wraps it around his fist and starts peppering the champ with the buckle until he busts him open. Windham steps away, holding his fist up in supposed triumph. Scottie crawls over to the trash can and pulls out a barbed wire wrapped baseball bat. He holds it aloft, fishing for a pop, but the crowd's just spent, it seems.

Windham turns and is so shocked to see Wrenn and the weapon, he falls squarely on his ass, begging off. Wrenn winds up, causing Windham to cover his bald head and cringe. Wrenn changes tactics and opts to "putt" the barbed wire right into the denim between Windham's thighs. Ack! Referee Speedy Nelson visibly cringes, keeping his distance.

Kendall Windham rolls away in agony, trying to scamper to safety. Scottie straddles his back and starts digging the bat into Kendall's head until he's screaming in pain and gushing blood. Scottie drops the bat, tucks Kendall's arms over his knees, and adopts a makeshift camel clutch like position, digging his hands into the wound. Kendall shakes his head, declining the submission and starts clawing his way towards the hardcore goodies. He eventually comes up with a frying pan and waffles Scottie in the forehead with it to break the hold.

Kendall takes another swing with the frying pan, but Scottie ducks it and scoops him up. He marches over and just slams Windham down on the garbage can still full of shit. He backs up and dives in for a big elbow drop, but Kendall rolls out of the way and the trash can gets flattened for good.

Kendall grabs Scottie by the head and runs him into the cage. He runs him across and into the opposite side. Back and forth a few times until Wrenn is bleeding heavily, culminating in a big Windham bulldog. Kendall rolls Scottie over and just lazes across him for 1... 2... Scottie shrugs him aside.

Both men are laid out for a bit, keeping the crowd sitting on their hands. Kendall pulls Scottie up in a rear waistlock and sets for a sleeperhold, but Scottie pulls a standing switch and bundles him into the cage wall. Windham staggers off while Scottie runs to the opposite ropes for some momentum. Kendall turns and gets absolutely buried with a spear.

Scottie steps on the lip of the garbage can and pries it open. He reaches in and pulls out what looks like a wooden cutting board wrapped in barbed wire. He sets it in the center of the ring and kicks all the rest of the debris out of the way.

Scottie pulls Windham up by the neck and steps into a standing headscissors. He hits a few clubbing forearms, then hooks Kendall around the waist. He lifts and turns, powerbombing Windham onto the barbed wire. Windham scuttles around on the mat, trying to get untangled. His black leather vest catches and tears.

The champ grabs Kendall by the wrist and jerks him up to fire him into the ropes. He catches him on the way back for The Psycho Slam, his spinning side slam, but Kendall lands alongside him and pulls him into a side Russian legsweep that lands both men firmly in the barbed wire.

Windham mounts and hits a few driving fists before trying the infamous Mulligan claw, but he can't get a good grip in that puddle of blood. Scottie gets his boots into Kendall's gut and kicks him away. Both men stumble up to their respective feet. Kendall boots the barbed wire aside, wanting no further part of it.

Scottie reverses an Irish whip and hits the far ropes himself. Windham cocks his arm and they collide with both men nailing a lariat. We get some more timekilling before Windham pulls Scottie up by the arm. He sends him into the ropes and cocks his arm, looking for another trademark lariat, but Scottie ducks under it and hits the far side. Windham turns and gets leveled with a big shoulder tackle.

Scottie locates the garbage can. He reaches in and pulls out a small tied-off canvas bag, holding it up. He fumbles with the knot for a bit and finally gets it open. He dumps the contents all over the mat... thumbtacks.

To be continued...

Wow, first time I've ever had a show go too long.

<br

Edited January 24, 2007 by TheRaySays

[TheRaySays]

Kendall ambushes Scottie from behind with clubbing forearms, trying to knock him down, but Scottie turns and bellows with rage. He blocks a wild right hand and spins Windham around, pushing him into the ropes. Windham bounces back and gets caught around the waist... Scottie winds him up... Psycho Slam into the thumbtacks! Referee Speedy Nelson gingerly maneuvers into position, carefully avoiding the tacks. 1... 2... 3!

Nelson hands Scottie the title, and he promptly hangs it around his own neck, standing there bleeding, eyes vacant, looking totally psychotic.

“The winner of the match... and STIIIILL NWA Wildside Heavyweight Champion... The Ticking Time Bomb... Scottie Wrrrrenn!”

I'll give it a *½. (O:56. C:49. M:63. Scottie Wrenn gained 4 points of overness from this feud ending. Kendall Windham gained 2. The NWA-W Heavyweight Title gained 2 points of image.)

Overall Rating: 58 % (-1 %)

Strongest Segment: The sheer spectacle of The Gallows Pole Match. (71%)

Weakest Segment: The dead weight tag team match with a returning Rick Michaels on one side and Jeff G. Bailey on the other. (49%)

Attendance: 329 @ $20 each (-9)

October 27, 2003

Scott Cage requests a push to Lower Midcard. The Writing Staff agree that he’s ready, and so do I.

Slim J requests a push to Upper Midcard. I gladly oblige him. I have big plans for the wannabe.

The Writing Staff recommends Onyx be pushed to Midcard. I make it so, looking forward to seeing him in the title picture.

Chuck Palumbo and Nova join the ranks of CZW.

The Wildside Tag Team Titles lost 3 points of image due to inactivity. I’ll be looking to fix that soon.

Feud Heat:

Caprice Coleman vs. Rainman: 28 –2 = 26

Slim J vs. Jeremy V: 55 +10 = 65

November 1, 2003

MXPW sign Shaggy 2 Dope and Russ McCullough.

WWA and Kronik’s Brian Adams has retired after battling chronic spinal and shoulder injuries. Eric Bischoff leaves the wrestling business to pursue other business ventures with Jason Hervey and Fred Durst, among others. Super Kendo also retires.

“Superstar” Bill Dundee and Jess Bradley announce their retirements.

Pro Wrestling Iron and Ultimate Pro Wrestling have both gone bankrupt. I imagine there's a common link there, but I'm not about to explore it. Expect massive hirings from surviving feds as a bunch of talent is now available.

Gabriel turned 20, losing a point of Brawl, but gaining 3 points of Technical.

Kid Kool turned 19, losing 3 points of Brawl, but gaining a point of Speed and 3 points of Technical.

Adam Windsor turned 20, gaining a point of Speed.

Finance complains about 4 months of losing money, but we made a nice $158K profit in August and only lost $74K in September and $84K in October. Dumbasses.

November 2, 2003

HWA sign Kaz Hayashi and Nick Dinsmore. WWA signs Jacqueline. Ray gets drunk on his birthday.

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

Have fun,

TheRay

[DMN in the House]

[TheRaySays]

from nwa-wildside.com

Wildside Rankings

Official Wildside Rankings for the month of October, 2003

National Wrestling Alliance BOD Champions:

NWA World Champion: Jeff Jarrett

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. Darkest Africa (Nubian Heavyweight or Wildside World TV Champion?)

2) Sylvian Grenier – 240 lbs. Paris, France

3) Jeremy Lopez – 187 lbs. Tampa, FL

4) Lazarus – 183 lbs. Kentwood, LA

5) Smokey Carmichaels – 185 lbs. Harlem, NY

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

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) Kendall Windham – 260 lbs. Sweetwater, TX

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

1) Smoke & Rain (Smokey Carmichaels and Rainman) – Combined 406 lbs., Harlem, NY and Darkest Africa

2) Jeremy V and Rick Michaels – Combined 395 lbs., Myrtle Beach, SC and Atlanta, GA

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

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

5) Future Shock (Brandon P and Jay Freeze) – Combined 435 lbs., Chapel Hill, 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) Scott Cage – 206 lbs. Ft. Lauderdale, FL

4) Azrael – 225 lbs. The Middle Of Nowhere

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

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.

- Sylvian Grenier has catapulted onto the scene with a big win over Onyx thanks to his fellow Cirque de Sade member Lazarus. He won't get a chance to capitalize on that big win any time soon, however, as Onyx has put him out of action for 8 months, making that win very costly indeed.

- Smokey moved up a notch after getting a tainted victory over Jimmy Rave, who dropped two spots to #6.

- Kendall Windham almost dropped off the charts because of his failed final bid at the NWA Wildside Heavyweight Title. He is still ranked under the presumption that he could levy a challenge at the new champion should Scottie Wrenn be dethroned.

- John Hennigan's loss to Sal del Rio knocks him out of the title picture for the time being.

- Smoke & Rain as well as Jeremy V and Rick Michaels have jumped to the front of the pack with their new pairings. It doesn't look like Jeremy is going to stay teamed with Michaels, however. With the return of David Young, can Bad Attitude be far behind?

- While also undefeated, Cirque de Sade dropped to #3 as Grenier's injury puts them out of contention for the near future.

- Future Shock slide to #5 even after picking up a win over Rage simply because the teams ranked higher than them are undefeated. This loss did, however, knock Rage off the charts.

- Tank and Wrenn slide off the charts due to inactivity.

- Scott Cage and Azrael both jump into contention for the NWA Wildside Jr. Heavyweight Title with wins over the other's partners respectively. Cage gets the edge over Azrael simply because his match was won with the partners banned from ringside. It remains to be seen if this singles success will translate into title shots.

- Jay Freeze dropped to #5 due to his loss to Adam Windsor.

- Gabriel's loss and Kid Kool's period of inactivity have dumped both off the charts. Kid Kool's ready for a return to the ring, however, and might be back in contention in short order.

[Draevyn]

It has taken me two weeks to get through this behemoth of writing, and I must say that you've got to be one of the best diary writers I've seen on this board. You've taken characters that I've never seen in the ring and brought them off the page, fully describing everything and giving me an idea of everything that is going on.

The Lost Boys are definitely two stark figures on the indy scene, and I see them in a lot of indy diaries, usually portrayed the same. Despite that being done here, you've also given them a certain edge with them being obsessed with Alicia and then turning, but not really turning on her.

You're right when you mention Smokey Carmichael's gimmick getting stale, and even throwing Rainman in there didn't seem to help. He really just needs something else to define him. Fueding with Rave is good, but hopefully Rave pulls off the big win here.

The West Texas Rednecks give the fed that "NWA" feel without having to spend big money on other talent. They still have some ability to go in the ring...I say some because Windham has definitely lost a lot through age. Kendall was never that good to begin with, but the redneck thing works, or at least I think it does.

Hopefully Windsor doesn't turn on Alicia. I'm actually hoping for an Alicia turn to align with the Lost Boys again. They just seem fit, not to mention Gothic Alicia would be cool.

Good job. I'm loving this diary.

[TheRaySays]

Thanks, The Original Outsider (can I just call you "Outsider"? ), for the kind words. I'm honored that you spent two weeks to catch up to date. I've learned more about wrestling of all sorts from EWB than anywhere else, but I always try to keep in mind the times when I knew next to nothing. I'll never assume that a reader has the faintest idea who I'm talking about, so I try to make everyone as real and distinct as possible.

I haven't changed The Lost Boyz gimmick so much as tried to tweak it to make them convincing heels. It's hard because I DO have to reflect the fact that they're... ahem... HELLaciously unover (15 and 26, the lowest and 4th lowest in the fed). Funny that you mentioned their obsession with Alicia...

Smokey's still a somewhat sentimental fave, but the Jimmy Rave, Nubian Heavyweight Champion thing isn't as fresh now as when I conceived it back when I started this. In ROH, he's even been billed as being from Ghana, West Africa, making this perhaps the weirdest diary coincidence I've ever experienced.

The West Texas Rednecks are definitely NWA thru and thru, and they were Florida born and bred as far as the business is concerned. It's a short hop from their roots north to Atlanta and Wildside. Barry was also relatively over for his price point, and decently charismatic, so I find him perfectly suitable as B-Dubbya, redneck CEO.

Gothic Alicia, huh? Interesting idea...

November 9, 2003

NWA:TNA have risen back to Global yet again… They sign the majesty of A-Train and steal Chris Candido from XPW. In the wake of Vince Russo’s departure from creative, Brian Gerwitz brings his own brand of sports entertainment to TNA as their new head writer. Dean Malenko returns to the staff there as well.

FLI has made the jump to National (Canadian?). They sign 2 Cold Scorpio and Jun Akiyama to the roster and hire staff members Kevin Kelly, Tim White, and “Beatbox” Brian Hebner.

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

NWA Wildside TV #19

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

1. The Dying of the Light:

We have a cold open for the second week in a row. Desire is meandering through a misty cemetery with her hands held up as if she's afraid to touch anything. She wears her usual white halter top and micro shorts with purple striping, making this a truly COLD open this November night, if you know what I mean. *nudge*-*nudge*-*nipple*-*nudge*

“Anything she can do, I can do better. I can do anything better than her... Where *are* these freaks?”

The Lost Boyz, Azrael and Gabriel emerge from the mist, looming over the grave markers. They look irritated and suspicious.

“You don't belong here, girl.”

“Yeah... Well... I'm here to get a scoop or whatever. Alicia Webb has an exclusive with David Young, so I figured I'd come out here to get an exclusive with you guys, especially since she's gotten all lovey-dovey with that English snot, Adam Windsor.”

Gabriel snarls. “Don't EVER mention that name before us again!”

“Yeah... Well... I don't figure she's likely to come out here to see what you guys got to say anymore. Her loss... your pain... my gain.”

“You want an exclusive? We'll give you an exclusive. Rage? Mike Pittman? Scott Cage? You know *nothing* of rage... You know *nothing* of pain... but we'll teach you. We... will... educate you.”

Azrael steps forward. “That's right, brother, and it will be a brutal lesson. You will not go gentle... into that good night. Rick Michaels... Old age should burn... and rave... at close of day.”

Gabriel whispers “Rage... rage... against the dying of the light.”

“Wise men... at their end... know dark is right... Because their words had forked no lightning, they do not go gentle into that good night. Good men... hah... the last wave 'bye', crying how bright their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay.”

Gabriel whispers “Rage... rage... against the dying of the light.”

“Grave men... near death... who see with blinding sight... Blind eyes could blaze like meteors at the break of day...”

Gabriel whispers “Rage... rage... against the dying of the light.”

“And YOU, Rick Michaels... our father... there on the sad height... Curse... Bless... us now with your fierce tears, I pray. You will not go gentle into that good night.”

Gabriel screams “Rage!... Rage!... against the dying of the light!”

“Pittman... Cage... You picked the wrong time... the wrong battle... the wrong gods. We will destroy you, not for anything you've done... not for anything you *can* do... but simply because we need a sacrifice, and when you are gone... we will walk once again in the houses of the holy with The Original Chosen One... Rick Michaels... and The Angel of the Morning Dawn... Alicia Webb.”

“To hell with her,” scoffs Desire.

Gabriel whispers “Indeed,” and the two recede back into the darkness.

(Interview: 69. Desire gained 2 points of overness from erect nipples. Azrael and Gabriel each gained a point of overness from misquoting Dylan Thomas.)

“DTA? Don't trust anybody? Well, unlike the so-called big boys, you can trust us to entertain you tonight. You can trust us to bring you an hour of solid action packed wall to wall. You can trust... in NWA Wiiiildside!”

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

We go straight to the ring, where Jeff G. Bailey has taken the microphone from Dan "the Dragon" Wilson and is pacing around in front of his freshly returned NWA Elite, John Phoenix and Rainman, and his newest acquisition, Slim J. He holds up a hand in a vain attempt to hush the crowd, but they're more than a little restless. He still wears his neck brace courtesy of Jeremy V.

“Tonight... Tonight is about solidarity. Tonight is about unity. Tonight... is about the NWA Elite... MY... NWA Elite. Tonight, we take back the reigns of this here runaway stagecoach. No disrespect to CEO Windham, but the big decisions... the ones that matter... are made in this ring. They're made with fists... They're made with boots... and they're made with BALLS.”

Slim J grabs his crotch to accentuate the matter, making John Phoenix roll his eyes impatiently.

Bailey continues. “So, it's back to basics for Jeff G. Bailey. It's back to what made the NWA Elite THE... most DOMINANT... faction in professional wrestling. We kick ass and take initials, 'cause we ain't got time for names. C.C.? You're up first. Phoenix is gonna melt the 'Ice' and watch him swirl right down the drain.”

Bailey passes the mic to Wilson and leads his troops down to ringside. Rainman seems exceptionally distracted, and Steven Prazak is quick to point it out.

“Rainman looks like he's a member of the NWA Elite in name only. Hell, Jeff G. Bailey hasn't even been by his side lately. He hasn't even commented on losing the Television Title, or whatever Rainman wants to call it. I think Bailey's a bit afraid of his own client... afraid to mention Rainman's change in attitude... afraid to rock the boat. But what about Rainman? We've never known him to be afraid of anything in his life, and this whole situation can't sit well with him.”

“Introducing... already in the ring... accompanied by The NWA Elite... from Atlanta, Georgia... weighing in at 230 pounds... John Phoeeeenix!”

Phoenix takes to a set of turnbuckles and throws his hands out. The crowd gives him nothing, not even a groan. Ouch. John simply rubs his scruffy chin and hops down to fiddle with the laces on his old school black-and-white two-tone boots.

“His OPPONENT... from Fayetteville, North Carolina... weighing 197 pounds... the self-proclaimed show-stoppin', crowd-poppin', body-rockin', pulse-poundin', heartbreakin', handsome-faced superstar... Caprice... ICE... Cooooleman!”

Deitrick Haddon and The Voices of Unity bring the gospel as "Chain Breaker" starts to play. Caprice Coleman shuffles out through the curtain and pauses, considering the overwhelming numbers arrayed against him. He nods his head and fingers his pooka-shell necklace before looking up for divine guidance. Finding his back covered ably by the Almighty, Caprice jogs down the aisle and hops up onto the apron, sparing Bailey's boys only a casual glance. He slingshots himself into the ring, pausing a bit while upside-down to showboat before landing on his feet. He stretches and tests the ropes while awaiting the opening bell.

2. John Phoenix w/The NWA Elite (Jeff G. Bailey, Rainman, & Slim J) (-H-) vs. Caprice Coleman (-F-):

Once we're underway, Coleman claps and nods as he circles, trying to get the tepid crowd into this. They lock up and John Phoenix comes away holding an arm. He goes to a wristlock and wrings it for a bit until Coleman gets his hands together and reverses. Phoenix slaps at his trapped arm, then re-reverses into a hammerlock.

Coleman twists out of the hammerlock and shifts into an armbar. They lock fingers, and both men lunge forward in a test of strength. Jeff G. Bailey shouts encouragement from ringside, but Phoenix is the one that's starting to falter. He rips one hand free and goes for an arm-drag, but Coleman lands on his feet and pulls Phoenix in for a stiff superkick.

Caprice hops out onto the apron and addresses the crowd. “Put your hands up, baby!” he shouts.

Jeff G. Bailey is quick to respond. “Shut the hell up! Move, John! Move!”

Coleman goes up top, measuring Phoenix. He goes for a missile dropkick, but Phoenix does indeed heed the warning and scramble out of the way in time, leaving Coleman to skid across the canvas. John Phoenix quickly gets to his feet and hits a loud snap kick to the side of the head on a seated Caprice Coleman.

An Irish whip sends Coleman hard into the corner. Phoenix charges in, but Coleman slingshots himself out onto the apron to dodge, leaving Phoenix to collide chest-first into the buckles. He backpedals out as Caprice Coleman pulls back on the top rope. Coleman slingshots himself into a springboard clothesline, but Phoenix dives out of the way, leaving Referee Andrew Thomas to eat it.

Caprice Coleman gets up aghast, and checks on the referee a bit, trying to rouse him. Phoenix, meanwhile, hits the ropes at a sprint and comes off for a rolling heel kick to the back of the head that sends Coleman tumbling into the ropes. Jeff G. Bailey is there in a flash to slap Coleman across the face.

John Phoenix pulls Coleman back in a schoolboy roll-up and holds the tights for... nada. The referee is still laid out.

Jeff G. Bailey slaps the apron a half dozen times, but it means nothing. Frustrated, Phoenix pulls Coleman up by the neck and hooks him up for a uranage, but Coleman manages to elbow out. He tries a whip into the ropes, but John Phoenix reverses. Caprice ducks the telegraphed clothesline and hops up onto the middle rope for a springboard leg lariat that knocks Phoenix down.

Caprice throws his hands up. “Give it up!” he shouts, but the crowd is lifeless.

Coleman turns to catch a thumb to the eye from Phoenix, who checks to see that the referee is up to one knee in the corner, but still clearly stunned. Phoenix takes Coleman by the tights and the scruff of the neck and runs him to the ropes to throw him at the feet of The NWA Elite... but Coleman skins the cat! Phoenix stomps over, annoyed, and gets taken up an over with a frankensteiner.

The NWA Elite gather around their fallen comrade just as Caprice Coleman pulls back on the top rope. A slingshot plancha takes all four men out like bowling pins. With everyone in a pile at ringside, we pause for some...

- - Mid-match Commercials - -

Before they can recover, Coleman rolls Phoenix back into the ring and slides in after. He pulls Referee Andrew Thomas up and gives him a hard shake to bring him back around.

John Phoenix gets up to his knees as Caprice Coleman hits the ropes... a shining wizard lays Phoenix out. Coleman takes a lateral press for 1... 2... Phoenix kicks out.

Caprice pulls Phoenix up by the neck. He takes Phoenix to one corner then whips him across. Phoenix holds his hands out to stop himself, grabbing the ropes and trying to vault up into a handstand to dodge, but he lands on Coleman's shoulders in a fireman's carry. Coleman walks him out of the corner and throws him into a Thermal Shock diamond cutter. Coleman gets to his knees and looks out at the assembled NWA Elite, then out at the crowd. No love from either. He leans forward and hooks a leg for 1... 2... 3.

NO! Phoenix somehow gets a shoulder up! The announce team can't believe it, but Jeff G. Bailey is ecstatic.

Coleman jerks Phoenix up by the arm and sends him into the ropes. Phoenix ducks under the spinning heel kick and skids to a halt. Coleman turns and gets blasted in the face with a quick superkick. Phoenix practically falls into the cover, getting 1... 2... 2.9999! Coleman rolls his shoulder.

Jeff G. Bailey orders Rainman to help. Rainman grabs a steel chair from ringside, unseating a front row fan. He folds it up angrily and hops up onto the apron, brandishing it threateningly. The referee is over immediately to intercept, losing the tug-of-war battle for the chair.

John Phoenix pulls Caprice Coleman up by the neck and delivers a staggering head butt. He then hooks Coleman around the neck and sets up a uranage, but Coleman twists out into a hammerlock. Phoenix reverses into an Irish whip, but Coleman plants his foot and reverses with a hop, sending Phoenix careening into Rainman and the chair. Both drop off the apron at the feet of The NWA Elite.

Phoenix, meanwhile, stumbles back into Coleman and gets hefted onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry... Thermal Shock! Coleman rolls Phoenix over as Referee Andrew Thomas slides into position to count the 1... 2... 3!

Rainman is in the ring almost immediately, laying chairshots into Caprice Coleman while the rest of The NWA Elite help Phoenix up. Phoenix shoves them aside and marches over to lay boots into Coleman as well. The timekeeper is going nuts, ringing the bell incessantly, but it doesn't look like any help is going to come for Caprice just yet. Rainman and Phoenix boot Coleman out to the floor under the bottom rope while Slim J holds the ropes for Jeff G. Bailey to enter the ring.

WINNER: Caprice Coleman, by pinfall after some botched interference from Rainman and a Thermal Shock.

I'll give it a ½ star rating. (O:46. C:28. M:77. Caprice Coleman gained 6 points of overness from the showcase match. John Phoenix gained 3 for his heelish indignation.)

3. Five Fingers of Fear:

Jeff G. Bailey takes the house mic from Dan "the Dragon" Wilson while his NWA Elite roam the ring around him.

“Dammit, when I said *unity*, that's NOT what I had in mind! We are five fingers of f**king FEAR! Together, we form an iron fist that'll choke the LIFE out of NWA Wildside and make it give us what we want! I'm the thumb, of course... but...”

Slim J puts a hand in Bailey's chest, making the other two heels turn to glare at him. He holds up his other hand and smiles, then motions for Bailey to hand him the microphone.

“Whoa whoa whoa there, Jeffy G.! You said FIVE fingers... I count you...” Slim tucks in his thumb so he's holding up four fingers. “Rainman...” He drops his index finger. “John Phoenix...” Slim makes a big show of wiggling his pinky before tucking it in, leaving two fingers up. “...and me...” He drops his ring finger, leaving, of course, the middle finger extended. “That's bad math, boss.”

Bailey snatches the microphone back. “Not if you count the NEWEST member of The NWA Elite... because possession is nine-tenths of the law, he's the NEW Nubian Heavyweight Champion... Smokey Carmichaels!”

Smokey steps through the curtain with the former Wildside TV Title on his shoulder. None of the other members can believe it, including Rainman, who is clearly conflicted as his new partner carries a belt that belonged to him for so long. The fans jeer as Bailey holds the ropes open for his latest acquisition. So much for wanting to "Kill Whitey..."

(Stable Introduces New Singles Member: 56. Jeff G. Bailey gained a point of overness from running his mouth. Smokey Carmichaels gained 3 from joining Wildside's preeminent heel stable.)

Suddenly, "Leave You Far Behind" by Lunatic Calm begins to play, and Jimmy Rave steps through the curtain. He has a microphone in one hand and uses the other to point to the ring.

“Nine-tenths of the law?! Yeah, okay, but that means that you're nine-tenths chickensh*t! Unless... of course... you can find the minerals to challenge me for MY Wildside Television Title?!”

The announce team are ecstatic, making one wonder what the hell match was originally scheduled for this slot in the card, but regardless, we won't get an answer just yet because it's time for commercials.

4. Smokey Carmichaels w/The NWA Elite (Jeff G. Bailey, Rainman, John Phoenix, & Slim J) (-H-) vs. Jimmy Rave (-F-) (For the NWA-W Television/Nubian Heavyweight Title):

Rave is in the ring while Smokey Carmichaels and his cronies in The NWA Elite have a board meeting on the outside. Eventually, Smokey climbs in through the ropes and tells the referee to “Ring the damn bell!”

Out of the opening tie-up, Rave grabs a wristlock, but Smokey is able to quickly reverse it into a side headlock. He cranks it up for a bit before Jimmy shoves him off and into the ropes. A high standing dropkick knocks Smokey down. He rolls through and to his feet only to catch a spinning back kick to the midsection. Rave races to the ropes and comes off to hit a front flip neckbreaker.

Smokey Carmichaels is writhing around on the canvas clutching his neck while his new teammates shout encouragement, even Rainman. Jimmy Rave marches across the ring and climbs up onto the second rope, facing them and his opponent. He points out to the assemblage of heels, then to Smokey, and waits on him to get up. Carmichaels gets to his feet, staggering. Despite a barrage of verbal warnings, he turns... and gets taken back down with a satellite headscissors that culminates in a crossface!

Smokey Carmichaels struggles, but Jimmy Rave nearly has it locked in. Smokey reaches out and eventually gets some assistance from Rainman, who pulls him out to the floor to break the hold and reach the safety of numbers. Jimmy Rave kicks at the bottom rope in frustration and even jaws with Referee Chris Emerson for a bit before losing his patience and rolling out to the floor. The announce team remind us that the belt cannot change hands on a countout, but that The NWA Elite are unlikely to turn over the belt in such a circumstance, regardless.

The NWA Elite try to run interference for Smokey, but Jimmy Rave is undaunted as he dives into the mob to pummel away at his opponent. The heels part like The Red Sea, backing away with their hands up to placate Referee Chris Emerson while the two competitors trade knife-edge chops. Eventually, Rave gets the upper hand and has Smokey bent over the railing to suffer a loud chop across the chest.

Rave scoops Smokey up and presses him overhead, positioning for a snake eyes on the railing, but Smokey drops out the back and lands behind Rave. He hooks him around the leg and neck and turns to throw himself backward in a side Russian legsweep into the rail. A few stomps threaten to boot Rave under the steel barricade and manage to keep him down and out for a bit.

Smokey rolls back into the ring to break the double countout, then sprints to the far ropes. The crowd actually murmurs with anticipation as he runs and leaps over the top rope in a plancha to the floor that leaves both men laid out in the front row. Eventually, Smokey drags Rave over the railing and rolls him into the ring. He climbs in as well and covers, hooking a leg deep for the 1... 2... Rave grabs the bottom rope to break the pinfall.

Smokey stomps away at Rave, then pulls him away from the ropes. He straddles him and starts locking in the cobra/camel clutch combo that Rainman calls The Hillside Strangler. Rave fights it off, however, and scoots out between Smokey's legs and behind him. Rave quickly stands and hooks Smokey's arms for a tiger suplex, bridged for 1... 2... Smokey kicks out.

Jimmy Rave pulls Smokey up by the arm and tries a corner whip, but Smokey plants his foot and reverses. Rave stops short of the turnbuckles, leaping up onto the middle ropes. Smokey is already charging in and can't stop in time to prevent Rave from leaping and twisting into The Gravity Killer tornado DDT! Smokey is spiked brutally and board-stiff as he falls to the canvas. Jimmy Rave rolls across his back and hooks a leg deep to score the 1... 2... 3.

Except The NWA Elite have collectively pulled Referee Chris Emerson out to the floor before he can count the 3. There's some sort of contrived attempt at protesting the pinfall from Jeff G. Bailey, but Emerson can smell a rat, and signals for security to eject him from ringside. This draws an actual cheer, which just swells as Emerson points at each member of The Elite in turn, throwing them all out. There's some indignation on the part of the heels, but security manages to start guiding them to the ramp.

Jeff G. Bailey shoulders the title belt, but Emerson wants it turned over. We've got a brief tug-of-war for it down at ringside which results in a stalemate between the two non-combatants. Security ably keeps the members of The NWA Elite out of it.

Meanwhile, in the ring, Rave has Smokey in a seated position and is hitting the ropes for his Doppler Effect knee to the face, but Smokey kips up and hits a dragon screw leg whip on the offered leg. He kicks away at the thigh for a bit before turning into a figure-four leg lock attempt. Jimmy Rave gets his other foot up to boot Smokey in the posterior, breaking the hold and sending Carmichaels tumbling through the ropes and to the concrete.

Rave rolls out to pursue. Smokey gets up and rips the title belt free from the tug-of-war. He turns and pastes Jimmy Rave across the face with it. Referee Chris Emerson waves the match off and signals for the bell.

Jimmy Rave is far from laid out, however, and pauses with a hand to his face, checking for blood. He then catches a second wind, just unloading fists and chops at Smokey, who returns in kind. The NWA Elite want in, but security holds them at bay. Before Jeff G. Bailey can get his hands on the so-called Nubian Heavyweight Title, Referee Chris Emerson bends down to lay claim to it and retreats to keep it out of reach.

Chaos continues to reign with Rave and Carmichaels brawling through the crowd, Bailey chasing Emerson, and security escorting the rest of The NWA Elite to the back as we go to commercials.

WINNER: Jimmy Rave "retains" by disqualification after Smokey Carmichaels uses the belt as a weapon.

Almost a ** match, but not quite - *½ rating. (O:59. C:55. M:78. By any name, the title gained 4 points of image for being the focus of attention. Jimmy Rave lost a point of overness from this feud starting to drag on.)

5. Slim J (-H-) vs. John Hennigan (-F-):

When we come back, order has been restored, but that leaves Slim J in the ring alone, waiting on his opponent. Well, technically, he's not alone, because Dan "the Dragon" Wilson is standing by for introductions.

“Introducing FIRST... from Motown... Detroit, Michigan... weighing in at 189 pounds... The REAL Slim J!”

Slim grabs his crotch and taunts the crowd, causing Wilson to roll his eyes. Neil Young's "Rockin' in the Free World" begins to play.

“His OPPONENT... from Los Angeles, California... weighing 201 pounds... John Hennigaaaan!”

Hennigan comes down the ramp to a squealie teenie-bopper pop. He slaps hands with a few fans before slingshotting himself into the ring where he hops around a bit, warming up. We get a brief feeling-out process with Slim playing cowardly heel effectively and avoiding the lock-up until he draws the requisite jeers.

Finally, they tie up in a collar-and-elbow. The bigger Hennigan is able to march Slim to the ropes, where there's a tentatively clean break... until Slim takes the cheap shot and hits a thumb to the eye. John Hennigan turns away holding his eye, trailing Referee Speedy Nelson, who gives Slim a verbal warning. Slim shrugs it off and leans back to hook the top rope with his arms and thrusts his groin in the direction of Hennigan.

Hennigan blinks, regaining his vision, and takes umbrage at the mockery. He takes a few steps and hits a high standing dropkick that sends Slim J tumbling over the top rope and to the floor. John rolls out and stomps down on Slim J a few times before rolling him back in. Hennigan hops up onto the apron and pulls back on the top rope. He slingshots himself into a sunset flip attempt, but Slim hooks a leg with one arm and wraps the other around Hennigan's neck. Slim walks Hennigan to the center of the ring and drops him on his neck with an air raid crash that Prazak calls a modified Spliffy Twista.

Slim takes a moment to dance around, pleased with his reversal, then hits the ropes once Hennigan is up to a seated position. A wicked stiff Mafia kick nearly takes Hennigan's head off. Slim pulls Hennigan up by the arm and whips him into the corner. Slim rushes in to follow up with a hard back elbow smash.

Hennigan staggers out and gets doubled over with a kick to the gut. Slim backs up to the center of the ring, giving him some space, then hooks up a reverse nelson with a butcher's grip. He lifts for a butterfly suplex, but Hennigan kicks his legs and manages to get set back down on his feet. Heenigan backdrops out, sending Slim J flying to crash into Referee Speedy Nelson. With the referee and Slim J laid out, John Hennigan is unable to capitalize, falling to his knees in exhaustion instead. This makes it an opportune time for...

- - Mid-match Commercials - -

When we return from our final break, Jeff G. Bailey is making his return to ringside amidst a cry of protest from the fans. He takes off one of his chunky Oxford loafers and passes it to the barely conscious Slim J. John Hennigan, meanwhile, has recovered enough to head to the far corner and slingshot himself onto the top turnbuckle. He leaps... and nails a flying elbow drop to the sternum.

The referee is still out, however, so Hennigan rouses him. Bailey looks around for a place to hide, not wanting to be ejected again, but finds no easy answers. He decides to hide under the ring apron, where he's far from inconspicuous.

While Hennigan is busy with the ref, Slim gets up on his shaky legs, shoe in hand. He tries to ambush Hennigan from behind, but Hennigan senses the sneak attack and turns to catch Slim around the waist and lift him into an inverted atomic drop. The shoe is dropped and Hennigan boots it out of the ring on his way out to the apron. He pulls back on the top rope and slingshots himself onto the middle of the top rope, perching there until Slim J turns with his knees drawn in to protect his aching groin. Hennigan leaps and catches him flush with a cross body. Referee Speedy Nelson lives up to his name, sliding in to count the 1... 2... Slim J throws his shoulder up.

Hennigan pulls Slim up by the arm and tries an Irish whip, but Slim manages to reverse into a short-arm clothesline, but John ducks that and re-reverses into a short-arm back elbow smash. He rolls into a schoolboy pin, stacked up in a three-point stance for 1... 2... 3-NO! Slim kicks out.

John Hennigan reaches down, only to get caught in a small package for 1... 2... 2.9999!

Both men get back up to their feet. Hennigan runs in for a spinning heel kick, but Slim ducks it and hits the far ropes. Hennigan rolls through and to his feet, only to drop prone when Slim charges. Slim hops over and hits the opposite ropes. Hennigan leapfrogs over him as he passes. One more time around, and Hennigan hits an arm-drag takedown, but Slim rolls through and hops up for a hurricanrana. Hennigan hooks him around the waist, however, and plants him with a release powerbomb.

Hennigan sets himself and signals for the Standing Shooting Star Press! He looks over his shoulder to gauge distance, leaving himself open to Jeff G. Bailey, who hooks his ankles and trips him up, pulling him all the way out to the floor.

Referee Speedy Nelson, visibly surprised and confused, immediately calls for the bell, and we have our second DQ in a row and the third NWA Elite loss of the night. Ouch. Hennigan takes matters into his own hands, flooring Bailey with a big right hand.

Slim J rolls out to the floor and shoves the referee aside to get at Hennigan and protect his manager. The two trade punches until Bailey hits a low blow from behind to cut Hennigan down. Slim J laughs it up and wants a high five with his manager, but Bailey is furious and pushes him aside to retrieve his shoe and angrily stomp off. Slim J wants an explanation, but Bailey blows him off as we get ready to close out the show. Dan "the Dragon" Wilson kicks it to Alicia Webb backstage for her exclusive interview.

WINNER: John Hennigan, by disqualification, after Jeff G. Bailey interfered to break up the Standing Shooting Star Press.

Almost a ** match, but not quite - *½ rating. (O:60. C:56. M:78.)

6. Messiah Complex:

Alicia Webb is backstage with "The Messiah of the Spinebuster," David Young. Alicia is stunning, as always, in a red turtleneck minidress, while David wears his tough guy street clothes, a t-shirt with the sleeves torn off and some ripped blue jeans.

“Thanks, Dan. I'm here with David Young. David, last week, our CEO Barry Windham read a letter supposedly written by your father. Is there any authent...”

“Alicia... Let me interrupt you for just a second. Barry Windham! You wanna mock my father?! You wanna mock my family?! No way, bro. You run your mouth while you can, because next week, I'm gonna shut it for good. You make your jokes and you film your little skits in your comfy little office, but you make sure you wear your best pair of cowboy boots next week... you make sure you shine them suckers up real nice... because I'm gonna BURY you in them!

“They call me The Messiah of the Spinebuster... and that's not because I lift big pieces of crap like you up and set them down gently on the canvas... I don't play games... I don't make jokes... I just take guys like YOU, Windham... I just take trash and I BURY it... I spinebuster it through the damn ring. I might've come here for my buddy, Rick Michaels... but I'm STAYING to kick your ass, Barry... big, bad Barry... I'm not leaving until I've broken your will... I've broken your spirit... and I've broken your BACK!... Any other questions?”

“I don't think so...”

“Good. The C-E-O is D-O-A in seven days. Count on it.”

David Young stalks off, leaving Alicia Webb to wish us “Good night” for her colleagues “Dan... the Dragon... Wilson and Steven Prazak and the rest of us in NWA... Wildside!”

(Interview: 93. Alicia Webb gained 4 points of overness from eating up the main event slot in delicious fashion. David Young gained a point as well for not sounding like a complete meathead as he unfortunately tended to in TNA.)

Overall Rating: 68 % (+6 %)

TV Rating: 0.39 (-0.01)

Strongest Segment: Alicia Webb gets the good word from “The Messiah of the Spinebuster”. (93%!)

Weakest Segment: The opening match. (46%)

Attendance: 151 @ $20 each (-5)

November 10, 2003

XPW sign… Randy Orton?! WTF?! DMN, please explain this one to me.

I send a tape to E! Entertainment Television, hoping to score a Late Night Tuesday time slot.

I push Smokey Carmichaels to Midcard at his request.

Feud Heat:

Jimmy Rave vs. Smokey Carmichaels: 64 +1 = 65

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

Have fun,

TheRay

Edited January 9, 2007 by TheRaySays

[TheRaySays]

My Mission: To finish 2003 before the end of 2006. Hopefully, some of y'all will come along for the ride. Enjoy.

November 16, 2003

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

NWA Wildside TV #20

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

”They claim to be UNSCRIPTED, but electrocutions and love triangles and so-called Higher Authorities stand in the way of athletes competing for accolades. This is no soap opera... This is no morality play... This isn't sports entertainment and it DAMN sure isn't some pervert's ego trip... This is just the finest in old school WRESTLING 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. It Ain't White Boy Day, Is It?:

The NWA Elite come down to the ring, getting boos the whole way. None of them looks particularly pleased, especially not Jeff G. Bailey, who demands that someone hold open the ropes for him. Slim J is more than happy to oblige, and rolls into the ring and to his feet like he's just won The Special Olympics. At least Bailey is finally free from the neck brace. He impatiently calls for the house mic.

“THIS is what we call in Southern business... a 'come to Jesus' meeting... I hate doing this in public, but I've got to call you all onto the damn carpet right here... right NOW... and get a few things out in the open. Let's face it, boys... We sucked out loud last week. We failed to execute on EVERY level... and I say 'we' because I'm as much a part of this colossal cluster... uh... fandango... as any one of you... but the difference between me and you is I have a plan... a vision... a DREAM, if you will...”

Bailey checks with Rainman and Smokey Carmichaels, representatives of the “urban” demographic within The NWA Elite. He isn't dead, so obviously they're going to let it slide.

“...and I'm willing to share that dream... share my success... with each and every one of my hand-selected NWA Elite, but I only ask one thing in return... a triviality, really... I ask for unwavering, unquestioning LOYALTY. I ask that you trust me to guide your career, to guide your destiny for the greater good of all of us, because... y'see... I'm a big picture kinda guy. I've been called a schemer, but I'm a dreamer not a schemer, and I imagine a world without opposition... without dissension... where our every whim is catered to and anything we desire is within our grasp. Can you imagine it? It's easy if you try.”

Slim J casts wistful eyes upward. “I can see it, Jefferson!” John Phoenix is openly skeptical.

Bailey cuts Slim off. “Shut up. I'm still sore from the ass-whipping I took at Fright Night thanks to you... The problem with trust is that it has to be mutual, and quite frankly... I just don't think I can trust you anymore...” Bailey's eyes track over to Rainman... then pass and lock onto someone else. “...John.”

John Phoenix scoffs, then looks a bit nervous as his stablemates close ranks around him. Slim J smiles a toothy grin, like the little boy who just got his big brother grounded. Bailey continues his lecture.

“After your dismal performance last week... as a member in good standing of the ACLU... of the NAACP... and of the Black Panthers Reform Party... I just have to ask... what made you two think it was 'White Boy Day'?”

Slim J guffaws, then realizes what was just said. His jaw drops. He holds up two fingers and turns only to eat a pair of stereo superkicks from Rainman and Smokey. John Phoenix knows he's next, so he grabs Jeff G. Bailey by the lapels for a marginal pop. Rainman and Smokey rush to the rescue, drilling Phoenix with rights and lefts until he unhands their manager and lawyer.

John Phoenix starts valiantly battling back, only to get kicked between the legs by Jeff G. Bailey and then stomped down and booted out of the ring by Rainman and Smokey. Slim J charges Smokey, hitting him from behind with clubbing forearms, but Rainman snatches him up in a cobra clutch and drags him down to the mat. Rainman straddles him and torques back on it, locking in The Hillside Strangler.

Smokey Carmichaels climbs up top and sets himself. Rainman lets go of Slim J and backs off, then pantomimes a rifle shot at Slim as Smokey comes off the turnbuckles with his Top Rope Leg Drop across the back of Slim's head. John Phoenix struggles to climb back into the ring, but eats a baseball slide dropkick from his former partner Rainman.

The announce team are disgusted as Bailey and his culled Elite strut around the ring, kicking it to our first ad break.

(Stable Kick Out Tag Team: 52. Slim J gained 6 points of overness from this segment and his face turn. John Phoenix gained 9 points of overness from this segment and his face turn. Jeff G. Bailey gained a point of overness from orchestrating this purge.)

2. Kid Kool (-F-) vs. Lazarus (-H-):

We're back and the ring has been cleared of nasty heels and heels-turned victims-turned faces. Dan “the Dragon” Wilson is standing by, ready for introductions. Silverchair's “Anthem for the Year 2000” plays loudly, accentuating the angry young man vibe as Kid Kool makes his way through the curtain. He points upward, fishing for a pop and slapping hands with some ring rats. Kool's got his brown hair left shaggy and tousled and wears baby blue trunks and boots, a paragon of cookie-cutter boy band cuteness.

He slides into the ring and stands on the middle rope, leaning out and slapping his chest with supposed intensity. The announce team reminds us that Kool is just a little over a month and a half back from an ankle injury and gunning full tilt for his former tag team partner's NWA-Wildside Junior Heavyweight Title.

”Introducing... in the ring to my right... from Every Girl's Fantasy... weighing in at 180 pounds... Kiiiid Kool!”

Kool climbs up to the middle turnbuckles and looks out at the crowd, pointing skyward again. He hops down as the house lights dim and spotlights roam the crowd, eventually centering on the curtain. “All That Jazz” from the Academy Award-winning film musical Chicago begins to play, causing the fans in attendance to groan. Show tunes can only mean one thing...

Lazarus steps through the curtain, dapper as you please in a tuxedo complete with tails, a top hat, white gloves, a black bow tie, and even white spats on his black wrestling boots. He carries a cane over his shoulder in a playful yet menacing posture. And, of course, his face is heavily made up with powder and rouge and lipstick and, well, all that jazz.

Lazz gingerly removes his bow tie as he saunters around ringside, reminding us that he was hung from a scaffold just three weeks ago at Fright Night. He tosses the cane to a ring attendant, removes his gloves and lays them in the top hat before passing that as well, then frighteningly demonstrates that his entire tuxedo is tear-away, revealing his ring attire beneath. He folds that up and gives it to the attendant, then dismisses the young man with an obligatory pat on the ass.

Lazarus climbs in through the ropes and makes a big show of wiping his feet. He then paces around, stretching, and looking generally bored. Referee Andrew Thomas tentatively checks Lazz for foreign objects while the music dies, the house lights come back up to full, and the introductions are completed.

”His OPPONENT... hailing from Kentwood, Louisiana... weighing 183 pounds... Laaaazarus!”

The referee is happy to have performed his duties without getting molested, so he calls for the opening bell. Lazarus comes out looking for a handshake. Kid Kool looks around for some advice, playing the naive face all too well, but no one really seems to care whether he takes the offer or not. The lack of interest probably stems from the smark idea that no matter what, dumb ass is going to take the handshake and pay for it. Indeed, Lazarus turns the gesture into an arm-wringer.

Kid Kool quickly steps in and reverses, however, and is overly pleased with himself for having accomplished so meager a feat. One could speculate that he's just happy to be back full time. Lazarus slaps at the arm, then grabs the hair to escape and pull Kool into a side headlock takeover. Kool reverses into a headscissors, but Lazarus handstands out and hits a quick, stiff roundhouse kick to the teeth.

Kid Kool checks his mouth for blood as the two circle. Lazz lunges forward, but Kid Kool catches him with a single leg takedown. Kool runs to the ropes, knocking Lazz right back down with a shoulder block. He hits the perpendicular ropes as Lazz rolls onto his stomach. Kid Kool hops over and hits the far ropes. Lazz leapfrogs over and runs to the ropes himself, while Kid Kool turns to defend himself. Kid Kool tries a leapfrog, but too early as Lazz puts on the brakes. Lazz waits on his landing, then throws him with a hip toss, but Kid Kool lands on his feet and reverses. Lazarus rolls through and to his feet, only to get knocked through the ropes with a high standing dropkick.

The fast-paced exchange should have merited applause, but didn't get it. Kid Kool's on his way, though, and may eventually warrant those comparisons to A.J. Styles and the like, especially with spots like the one he starts setting up. Kool runs to the far ropes for a bounce, then sprints across the ring and leaps into a somersault plancha suicida onto Lazarus. With both men laid out on the floor, it's a perfect time for...

- - Mid-match Commercials - -

Kid Kool crawls around a bit on his knees, selling the impact, then gets back to his feet. He pulls Lazarus up and slides him back into the ring, then follows suit. A side rolling cradle only gets 1.

A European uppercut drives Lazarus into the corner. A knife-edge chop across the chest keeps him there. Kid Kool tries to whip Lazarus across, but Lazz reverses it. Kid Kool hops up onto the middle buckles and leaps off, twisting, as Lazarus charges in. He catches Lazz and spikes him with a tornado DDT. Kid Kool covers, but Lazz has a foot on the ropes.

Kid Kool drops an elbow on the offending limb and wrenches it away from the ropes. Lazarus gets a hand on them instead and pulls himself up to one foot, hopping around while Kid Kool holds the other. Kid Kool pulls Lazarus away from the rope break, but Lazz whirls up and hits him across the face with an enzuigiri.

Kid Kool staggers backwards and into the ropes, hooking them with his elbows to keep from falling down. Lazarus hops up from a crouch, stutter-steps in, and nails him with a superkick to the jaw. Kid Kool teases tumbling over the ropes, but lands back in the ring to get flipped with a fireman's carry and covered for 1... 2... Kid Kool kicks out.

Lazz pulls Kool up in a front facelock and gets a fistful of powder blue tights. He lifts and carries Kid Kool over to the corner where he sets him on the top. An overhand chop lights up the chest of Kid Kool. Lazarus climbs up and thrusts his crotch into Kid Kool's face, taunting him and further souring the crowd.

Kid Kool throws some half-hearted punches to the ribs of Lazarus, but Lazz doesn't fall, instead retaliating with some fists of his own. Lazz climbs up to the very top and pulls Kid Kool up to join him. They trade a few more punches until Lazz seizes Kid Kool in a waistlock and pauses. An overhead release belly-to-belly superplex launches Kid Kool and lands Lazz on the canvas as well. Air to spare on that one.

Lazarus crawls over and makes the cover for 1... 2... 3-NO! Kid Kool throws his shoulder up.

Lazz takes hold of an arm and steps over into an armbar, trying to keep Kid Kool grounded. Kool grits his teeth and pumps his fist, trying to rally the crowd behind him, but they're tepid at best. He struggles back to his feet, forcing Lazarus to shift into a hammerlock.

Kid Kool elbows out of the hold and sprints to the ropes for a bounce. He comes off too quick for Lazz to react, and the Wildside weirdo eats a spinning heel kick. Kid Kool scrambles over and hooks both legs deep for 1... 2... 3-NO! Lazarus kicks out just before the three.

Kool pulls Lazz up and tries to whip him into the turnbuckles, but Lazz plants a foot and reverses with a fluorish. Kid Kool puts on the brakes and grabs the top ropes to kip up and leap backward, trying for the Kool Krusher (Edge-O-Matic), but Lazz backpedals just out of range and scores a rear waistlock. Lazz rolls backward and through, into a pinning predicament. He pulls the tights to get the tainted 1... 2... 3!

WINNER: Lazarus, by pinfall with a pull of the tights.

It was close to a ** match, but one too many blown spots knocks it down to a *½ rating. (O:59, C:37, M:81. Kid Kool gained 3 points of overness from his plucky enthusiasm.)

3. Ready for His Close-Up:

Lazarus rolls out of the ring before getting his hand raised and saunters over to the announce position. With Dan “the Dragon” Wilson in the ring making the official announcement of his victory, Lazz is free to take his headset unimpeded.

“I'm ready for my close-up, Ms. Webb! Where's she at, Steven? Where's that little minx when I'm ready to cut the promo of my career?”

Kid Kool watches the proceedings briefly, then shuffles off, disgusted with his loss. Lazz's music begins to fade, bringing “The Dragon” over to reclaim his position.

“Back off, Wilson! Keep my music playing. I want my time in the sun, dammit! That was a hard-fought victory, and I deserve my face time.”

The music resumes, and Alicia Webb comes through the curtain in a low-cut creme sweater, khaki gauchos, and high-heeled suede boots. The crowd gives the lovely interviewer a welcome cheer, and she acknowledges it with a polite wave and smile. Lazarus taps his foot impatiently as she approaches and takes the house mic. The music fades back out.

“Okay, Lazz,” she says. “You've got something to say, so let's hear it.”

“Well, well, well. An honor and a privilege, Ms. Webb. Truly. You see tonight marks a turning point in the career of Lazarus... Tonight begins a new era... Gone is the self-loathing, indulgent little trollop... replaced by the vision of excellence you see before you, Lazarus reborn!”

Alicia does her best to stifle a chuckle. “Um, I have to admit, Lazz. Other than a change in wardrobe and music, I don't detect much of a difference.”

Lazarus nods, taking the criticism on board, then reaches forward and grabs Alicia by the back of the head, laying a big open-mouthed kiss on her that leaves her, the announce team, and the audience in shock. He pulls away and gently guides the microphone to his lips.

“How about that? That different enough for ya?”

Alicia wipes her mouth on her sleeve and backs away, still stunned. Suddenly, Adam Windsor bursts through the curtain in a white button shirt and navy blue dress pants, keeping with his usual color scheme, but without his ring robe. If this were a cartoon, steam would be coming out of his ears.

Lazarus offers no resistance, satisfied with himself, and retreats to the far side of the ring, backing eventually up the ramp and to the back. Adam checks on Alicia, but she's hardly appreciative. She shrinks away from his consoling hand. While she doesn't talk directly into the house mic, her protests are loud enough to be picked up nonetheless.

“Leave me alone. I don't need a bodyguard to do my job. Mind your own business.”

(Heel Hits On Diva Leading To Fight: 63. Lazarus and Adam Windsor each gained 3 points of overness from entering a new storyline together.)

The announce team reminds us that Windsor was scheduled to represent England in a big match next week against France's Sylvian Grenier to determine the challenger to the Wildside Heavyweight Title at Global Warfare in two weeks. Grenier is out with a devastating neck injury, however, so a replacement had to be found. Supposedly, there's a special opponent flying in from Japan. Prazak name drops Lucha Libre veteran Gran Hamada, Dory Funk Jr.'s pal Osamu Nishimura, and deathmatch virtuoso Tomoaki Honma as exciting possibilities.

4. Pick a Partner:

Their idle speculation is cut short as “Physical” by Olivia Newton-John begins to play. The crowd jeers loudly as Desire leads Sal del Rio out in their matching fitness attire. Adam Windsor overstays his welcome, immediately taking up a defensive posture alongside Alicia Webb.

“Boy trouble, Skank?” Desire taunts. “Quit undressing me with your eyes, Prince Charles. Your frou-frou accent don't get my motor running like it does the trailer trash. We're here to issue a warning.”

Desire holds up a hand, keeping Windsor at bay while Sal does his best at intimidation, trying in vain to make “The Royal Stud” flinch. “Settle down, Short Bus. This doesn't have anything to do with you... unless... of course... Little Miss Webb wants it to.”

Alicia and Adam both look confused and more than a little suspicious. After a pause, Desire elaborates. “At Global Warfare, we're granting that skidmark in the ring... the man Sal carried on his muscular shoulders for YEARS... Kid Kool... his long-anticipated shot at OUR Junior Heavyweight Title.” Sal del Rio nods in smug agreement and flexes. “So, next week... we're scheduled to have a little tag team match. I've already hand picked Sal's partner, so I thought it'd be sporting if YOU chose someone to get their ass kicked along with your little friend.”

Adam Windsor looks around uncertainly, already aware that he's on thin ice, but still ready and willing to step in if asked. After a short uncomfortable moment of silence, “long way back from hell” by Danzig begins to play, and the crowd begins shouting their disfavor.

The Lost Boyz swagger through the curtain and down the aisle. They stare ominously at Sal and Desire until the two put up placating hands and back down with uneasy smiles. “All right. We'll leave you to think about it. Just remember... only ONE partner, so choose wisely.”

(Interview: 72. Desire gained 2 points of overness from laying down the challenge. Sal del Rio gained a point by proximity.)

After they're gone, Azrael and Gabriel redirect their attention to Adam Windsor. Windsor looks back and forth, not about to back down, until Alicia storms off in a huff. He follows, still sagely looking over his shoulder on occasion, but The Lost Boyz remain at ringside.

The announce team rehash the match just announced and the implied stipulation, but are soon interrupted when Az and Gabe start arguing vehemently. Each is clearly if inaudibly making a case for their selection. Shouting turns to shoving, and they simultaneously reach over the ringside railing and steal a chair each from front row fans who are standing rather than sitting in them. There's a teased chairshot duel, until each man unfolds his respective chair and angrily sets it down. They take their seats and brood in silence.

Steven Prazak is outraged. “They have no business staying out here, Dan! Rage is up next, and I’d bet my paycheck that they get involved!”

“I’m not going to take that bet, Steve. Besides, I don’t want to get in trouble like Pete Rose, so I’m just going to kick it to commercials and we’ll be back with tag team action!”

- - Commercials - -

5. Rage (-F-) vs. Future Shock (-H-):

Dan “the Dragon” Wilson is in the ring for introductions as “Killing in the Name Of” by Rage Against the Machine blares. Scott Cage and Mike Pittman explode through the curtain and slap hands with the front row fans, one going right at the bottom of the aisle, the other left. They end up on either side of The Lost Boyz and eye them warily before sliding into the ring.

“Introducing FIRST… at a combined weight of 396 pounds… Scott Cage… Mike Pittman… They arrrre Rrrrage!”

They take to the turnbuckles and pose. Mike Pittman is a clean cut cruiserweight in a simple black t-shirt and gray and black elbow pads, wristbands, and tights. Scott Cage is a bit more sketchy in appearance with a goatee and tattoos covering his upper arms. He sports yellow trunks and knee pads accentuated by red flames. Black boots and copious black wrist and hand tape mean he’s ready to get down to business.

They hop down from their perches as a sinister remix of Herbie Hancock’s seminal electronica anthem “Rockit” begins to play. Sure, Hancock has a title track on the album “Future Shock,” but it’s far less engaging. The tag team of the same name saunters out, looking cocky as ever.

“Their opponents both hail from Chapel Hill, North Carolina… weighing in at a total of 435 pounds… Brandon P and Jay Freeze… Fuuuuture Shock!”

Future Shock’s attire is matched, with black and silver tights, black wristbands, elbow pads, gloves, and boots. Brandon P keeps his long brown hair out of his eyes with a black headband. Jay Freeze takes some time to wiggle his fingers at the scowling Lost Boyz, mocking “Oooh… Spooky-spooky” as he passes.

After some predictable heel stalling, Jay Freeze finally concedes to enter first, squaring off against Scott Cage. The announce team mention that Future Shock is fighting to stay in tag team title contention, while Rage is trying to get back on the rankings list. Future Shock knocked them off with a tainted victory in early October. “That victory was courtesy of The Lost Boyz,” Prazak grouses.

Cage and Freeze start with some nice chain wrestling out of the initial lock up. Cage scores an early arm-wringer, but Jay Freeze flips through and reverses, pushing the arm behind Cage’s back into a hammerlock. Cage twists out and into a side headlock. Jay Freeze tugs at the arm ineffectively before squaring up his stance and shoving Cage off into the ropes.

Scott Cage rebounds and ducks under a telegraphed clothesline. He builds up momentum off the near ropes and nimbly leapfrogs over the obvious backdrop set-up. Third time off the ropes is the charm as he’s moving at quite a clip when he nails Freeze in the face with a flying forearm.

Jay Freeze quickly scuttles backward into the heel corner to regroup. Brandon P reaches down for the tag, but Jay angrily waves it off. He steps out rubbing his jaw and motions for another lock-up. He scores an arm and tries to whip Cage into his corner, but Cage plants his boot and reverses, sending Freeze crashing into the turnbuckles near Mike Pittman.

Pittman immediately throws up his hands on the apron to indicate no unlawful contact as Freeze crashes to the canvas. Scott Cage asks his partner to give him some room as he sprints towards his corner. Pittman gets out of the way as Cage hurdles Freeze and hits a sweet split-legged corkscrew senton!

Cage covers and gets 1… 2… Brandon P is on the way to break it up when Jay Freeze kicks out on his own. As Referee Chris Emerson ushers Brandon P back out of the ring, Scott Cage makes the tag to Pittman.

Pittman scoops Jay Freeze up and shoulders him while Scott Cage rushes to the ropes. Brandon P’s protests go ignored by the ref as Pittman buries Freeze with a spinebuster while Cage hits a swinging neckbreaker. Brandon P shoves Emerson aside to rush to the rescue, but Pittman sees him coming and hits a quick spinning back kick to knock Brandon through the ropes and to the floor.

Scott Cage ducks out to the apron so his partner can cover for 1… 2… Brandon P pulls Jay Freeze out to the floor to break the pinfall. Brandon P signals for a “time out” as his partner clutches his neck and struggles to recover.

Pittman taunts them for their cowardice, then hits the far ropes. He tries a baseball slide dropkick, but Brandon P easily dodges it and Cage lands on his feet on the outside. Jay Freeze tries to ambush him from behind, but a spinning back kick to the gut doubles him over and backs Brandon P down.

Mike Pittman slides Jay Freeze back into the ring. He climbs up onto the apron to pursue. Freeze comes up with a desperation right hand, but it’s easily blocked by Pittman. A shoulder block through the ropes goes unblocked, however, and stuns Pittman long enough for Freeze to hit a condescending slap across the face. He takes a front facelock and lifts Pittman up. He struggles to get him all the way up, visibly buckling, then uses the ropes for a slingshot suplex, shades of Tully Blanchard.

That took a lot out of Jay Freeze, and both men lie still for a bit before Freeze crawls over and makes the tag to Brandon P. He slingshots himself in and scores a bulldog from behind to knock Pittman back down to the canvas. He pulls Pittman up by the arm and jerks him into a short-arm clothesline that turns him inside-out and draws polite applause from former arch-rivals The Lost Boyz.

Brandon P flips the Goths off and backs into the ropes for a bounce. The time-wasting gives Pittman the opportunity to roll out of the way of an elbow drop and make the tag to Scott Cage. Cage slingshots himself into a springboard huracanrana that catches Brandon napping. He rolls through and into a flying forearm to knock Jay Freeze clear off the ring apron.

Scott Cage dives for the unprotected cover and gets 1… 2… 2.99999! Brandon P barely manages to roll his shoulder.

Cage pulls Brandon up by the neck and hits a few clubbing forearms. A whip to the ropes is reversed, and the two head to opposite sides for a bounce. Cage scores with a spinning heel kick to the jaw. He runs to the perpendicular ropes and springboards off the middle rope for a quebrada, but gets nothing but knees.

Jay Freeze gets in the ring, which, in turn, draws in Mike Pittman, and Chris Emerson has his hands full keeping both at bay. This distraction is what The Lost Boyz have been waiting for. They quickly slide into the ring behind the referee’s back and pull Scott Cage up by the neck. A double DDT spikes him hard into the canvas, and they slide back out just as Pittman’s pointing and screaming gets Emerson to turn around.

Brandon P stumbles up to his feet and shakes his head, indicating that “of course not, there hasn’t been ANY interference.” Meanwhile, Jay Freeze takes the opportunity to bundle Mike Pittman out of the ring and onto the concrete floor. Jay shoves Emerson aside yet again and hooks both of Cage’s legs. He lifts him up off the canvas as Brandon hits the ropes. A baseball slide dropkick forms the first part of Aftershock, and the powerbomb from Freeze completes the double-team finisher.

Jay Freeze backs off as Brandon P takes a lazy, exhausted cover for the academic 1… 2… 3.

Mike Pittman is just too late for the save, as Jay Freeze cuts him off. He scans ringside, unsure where to direct his anger and outrage, but The Lost Boyz are merely smirking menacingly as they retreat back up the ramp and to the back.

This leaves their chairs behind, and Pittman quickly snatches one up and folds it. He slides into the ring with it, sending the heels running for higher ground. They get in each other’s way, however, and are too slow to avoid a pair of chair shots from Pittman.

They crumple to their knees, cringing, and despite pleas from the referee, Pittman hands the chair to a still stunned Scott Cage, who immediately gathers himself in anger. He winds up and unloads a pair of chair shots of his own, knocking Future Shock flat. Cage throws the chair down in anger and storms off in a huff, with his partner following behind, equally distraught.

WINNERS: Future Shock, by pinfall after interference from The Lost Boyz and The Aftershock (Brandon P over Scott Cage).

** rating for this one. Perfectly Acceptable Wrestling. (O:62. C:44. M:80. The members of Rage each gained 3 points of overness from their righteous indignation.)

- - Commercials - -

6. David Young (-F-) vs. Barry Windham w/Kendall Windham (-H-):

”Heart breaker, soul shaker...

I've been told about you

Steamroller, midnight stroller...

What they've been saying must be true

Red hot mama, vel-vet charmer...

Time's come to pay your dues

Now you're messin' with a

A son of a bitch

Now you're messin' with a son of a bitch...”

It’s “Hair of the Dog” time, as David Young stalks out to the Guns N’Roses cover of Nazareth. Young still sports his TNA jobber look with trunks, knee pads, boots with kick pads, and wrist tape all in blue. Dan “the Dragon” Wilson is on hand to give him a proper introduction.

“Ladies and gentlemen… please put your hands together to welcome back… one half of Bad Attitude… a Wildside legend and MESSIAH of the Spinebuster… 238 pounds… from Aaaatlanta, Georgia… David… Young!”

Young takes to the corner and slaps his chest, pointing to the crowd and nodding his head as if to say “Yes, I’m really back.” Suddenly, Richie Samborra’s mournful guitar rings out, and David Young redirects his attention to the curtain, a look of disgust twisting his lip.

“It’s all the same…

Only the names will change.

Every day…

It seems we’re wasting away…”

As Bon Jovi’s “Wanted: Dead or Alive” continues to play, Wildside CEO Barry Windham slowly strides through the curtain and down the aisle, baby brother Kendall backing him up in redneck street clothes. Windham saunters around ringside as he is introduced.

“His opponent is the current CEO of NWA: Wildside… from Sweetwater, Texas and accompanied by his brother Kendall… a former NWA World Heavyweight Champion… Barry Wiiiindham!”

Steven Prazak is already bemoaning the presence of Kendall. He questions how long it’ll take before this degenerates into a 2-on-1 affair, and wonders where the other half of Bad Attitude is. Rick Michaels’ beating at the hands of B-Dubbya is the whole reason David Young’s reunited with his old running buddy.

Windham climbs up onto the apron and makes a big display of stepping in over the top rope. He throws his hands up to an unkind reception. David Young immediately steps into him, and we have a combination staredown trash-talking confrontation.

Barry finally laughs it off and turns away, infuriating Young, who brusquely turns him back around and throws a heavy right hand. Windham, surprised at the gall, returns in kind, and we’re trading fisticuffs to start things off. Young starts to get the advantage, scoring two punches for every one from Windham, until he’s just teeing off on his own while Windham reels back into the ropes.

David pushes Windham against the ropes and whips him across. The big Texan comes lumbering out and into a big backdrop with surprising air time. David Young pumps his arms as he’s fired up. He runs to the ropes and comes off just as Windham is getting up from a crouch…

“Bulldog!” Dan Wilson is manic. “Rrrright outta the damn Windham playbook!”

Kendall Windham is shocked and appalled. He slaps the apron in frustration and kicks at the ringside railing. A few fans give him grief, but nothing worth responding to.

Young rolls Windham over and hooks a leg deep, leaning back while Senior Referee Speedy Nelson counts 1… 2… Windham throws his shoulder up.

David Young grabs the offending arm and pulls Barry up by it. An Irish whip buries Windham in the corner. Young charges in, but even slumped against the turnbuckles, Windham is able to get a big cowboy boot up to lash him across the jaw.

Barry takes over on offense, unloading some uninspired forearms to the back and neck. The announce team try to shill it as setting up The Lariat, but whatever, it’s nothing to get excited about. Eventually, having weathered the storm, David Young finds himself backed against the ropes.

Windham tries a whip across, but David Young hops and reverses, sending the big man for the ride instead. Young sets himself, looking for The Spinebuster… but eats The Lariat instead!

Sloppy, but perhaps purposefully so, as Dan “the Dragon” Wilson admits he didn’t get all of that. “That was a last second correction… a veteran move, showing he’s scouted David. He was ready for that and saw an opportunity, but can he capitalize, Steve? Was that enough?”

As if to answer, an already gassed Windham reaches over and hooks a leg, counting along on his fingers with the referee… 1… 2… David Young kicks out!

Steven Prazak is incredulous. “He kicked out of The Lariat! He kicked out of The Lariat!”

Neither Windham can believe it. Barry has Speedy Nelson jerked up by the lapels and is demanding an explanation. The referee, of course, restates his case that it was merely two.

David Young is already getting up, so Windham cuts him off with a big boot to the gut. A front facelock sets up a delayed vertical suplex that was all sorts of wobbly. Windham finally drops him and floats over for the lateral press. 1… 2… 3-NO! Young kicks out again.

Windham scoops Young up and half-heartedly slams him to the canvas. Barry takes a leg and makes a lasso gesture, calling for the figure four. He starts tying it up, but when he turns in, David is able to plant a boot squarely on his ass and send him sprawling.

Embarrassed and furious, Windham scrambles up and charges… Spinebuster!

“David Young just buried our CEO alive!” shouts Prazak.

He leans forward and gets the 1… 2… Windham manages to get his boot on the bottom rope.

“That’s veteran ring awareness right there, Steve,” says Wilson. “It’s like a sixth sense, and it’s a helllllacious advantage for a six-foot-six ass-kicker like B-Dubbya.”

Young pulls Windham up and tries to whip him into the ropes again, but Windham reverses into a short-arm clothesline, but Young ducks under it and drives a shoulder into Windham’s ribs. From uranage position, he lifts and spins into an inverted sitout side slam, the Whip Blast.

David rolls Windham over and hooks a leg, getting the 1… 2… 3-NO! Windham rolls his shoulder.

Young pulls Windham up by what’s left of his hair and fires off a series of stiff knife-edge chops. Barry’s chest is beet red by the time he gets driven to the ropes. A whip sends the big man across. David Young catches him on the rebound for a crisp powerslam that got Windham all the way over swiftly.

Rather than take another cover, Young pulls Windham back up and sends him back to the ropes. Spinebust-NO! Windham dives over for a sloppy sunset flip, his legs all up in the ropes, but Young struggles to keep from falling over onto his back. Windham abandons the hold and uses the ropes to get up. Young charges in only to get hefted onto Windham’s shoulders in a fireman’s carry.

Windham huffs and puffs over to the corner and flips Young off of his shoulder and into the turnbuckles in a crumpled heap. Barry shuffles out and charges in for a big knee that blasts the spine of Young as he lays upside down in the corner.

Barry holds onto the top ropes and uses his boot to choke Young, drawing the five count of doom from Speedy Nelson. Nelson finally enforces the break, giving Young the chance to get back to his feet. Barry pulls Nelson away to argue his point, distracting him from the inevitable Kendall interference. Kendall climbs up onto the apron and makes a big production number of taunting Young.

When Young imprudently takes the bait, Windham hooks the back of his head and drops off the apron, hanging him throat-first across the top rope. Nelson turns as Windham hits the far ropes. The Lariat knocks the gasping David Young flat. Windham covers for 1… 2… 3.

Kendall climbs into the ring to hug and congratulate his brother. “I knew you could do it.”

Barry’s not done, however, and he pulls Young up and pushes him against the ropes. He barks orders to Kendall, and, together, they tie Young up in the ropes. The referee calls for the bell repeatedly, but The West Texas Rednecks merely ignore him.

Barry and Kendall then take turns hitting Young in the forehead with boot heels, elbows, and straight right hands. Young is eventually left sputtering and bleeding. Wildside owner Bill Behrens leads security to the ring, and they manage to get the Windhams out.

Dan Wilson wants to know “Where the hell was Rick Michaels?! There’s going to be hell to pay when they get David Young loose!”

“Next week… Adam Windsor faces off against a very special guest from Japan for a title shot at Global Warfare… and who will Alicia Webb choose to be Kid Kool’s teammate against Sal del Rio and Desire's hand-picked partner? Will it be Windsor? Will it be one of those despicable Lost Boyz that worship the ground she walks on? Maybe it’ll be me.”

Prazak scoffs. “You?!”

“Hey, put me down as another guy who’d do anything Alicia’d ask me to. The possibilities are endless.”

“Thankfully, the week ISN’T, because in just six days and twenty-three hours, we’ll be back with more Wildside action! Good night!”

WINNER: Barry Windham, by pinfall after The Lariat and interference from brother Kendall.

Bland match, but I’ll give it a * rating for not being too bad. (O:53. C:44. M:62.)

Overall Rating: 59 % (-9 %! Ouch!)

TV Rating: 0.39

Strongest Segment: Desire and Sal del Rio on the stick. (72%)

Weakest Segment: The ejection of Slim J and John Phoenix from the NWA Elite. Slim had just joined and Phoenix just returned to action. (52%)

Attendance: 152 @ $20 each (+1)

November 17, 2003

Phoenix Championship Wrestling offer me a job as head booker. I decline, but it was tempting, as they are on the cusp of growing from Regional to Cult (80% PI).

I push Kid Kool to Lower Midcard as per his request. I push Sal del Rio to Midcard at the urgings of my Writing Staff.

Ring of Honor release Dixie, Bio-Hazard, and Danny Drake. I don’t even try to feign interest.

Feud Heat:

Barry Windham vs. David Young: 44 +3 = 47

Adam Windsor vs. Lazarus: 55 +10 = 65

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

Have fun,

TheRay

Edited November 22, 2006 by TheRaySays

[Guest mrbigstuff]

love the diary Ray so much detial and seems realistic to the former Wildside which was a great southern indy hope u do finish 2003 keep up the good work.

[TheRaySays]

November 23, 2003

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

NWA Wildside TV #21

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

“Just one week away from Global Warfare, and much of the card has yet to take shape. We know that Kid Kool will challenge his former best friend Sal del Rio for the Wildside Junior Heavyweight Title. We'll get a little taste of that confrontation tonight as each former member of G-Rated is joined by a mystery tag team partner. Another mystery will be solved tonight when Adam Windsor faces a special guest from Japan with a shot at the Wildside Heavyweight Title on the line!”

“Steve, I hate to be a negative Nancy, but I've got to question whether Adam really deserves this. I mean, he ended up on the losing end of a prolonged feud with Jeremy Lopez, and he's seemed more interested in Alicia Webb than Scottie Wrenn.”

“Come on, Dan. Can you really fault him for that? This is the way Global Warfare is structured. Would Sylvian Grenier have deserved a title shot? Does Shinya Hashimoto? This is about making Wildside a global entity. This is about expanding our horizons and giving a shot to someone unexpected. I've got to say, though, I'm surprised Jeremy Lopez hasn't screamed bloody murder over this.”

“Well this is the time of the year to be thankful.”

“And 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. Right Answer, Wrong Question:

We cut from our opening credits to backstage, where David Young is marching down the corridor in full scowl. He's dressed in his torn t-shirt and jeans, with a gym bag presumably containing his ring attire. His forehead is still bandaged from the savage beating he received at the hands of the brothers Windham last week.

Just as he's about to push open the dressing room door, the lovely Alicia Webb enters the frame in a silver angora sweater with a matching satin miniskirt, low-slung rhinestone belt, and a pair of black velvet high-heeled boots.

“David!” Young stops in his tracks and turns, eyeing her warily. “I need to ask you a question.”

“You've got a question, huh? Well, you're asking the wrong guy. You see, I've got the same question as you. Where was Rick Michaels last week? I came here... as a friend... to watch his back, but who's watching mine? Well, the only one who can answer those questions is Rick Michaels.”

“Wait, that's not what I meant...”

“Rick, if we're going to do this... If Bad Attitude is going to kick ass and take names like we did back in the day, we've got to do it right. At Global Warfare, I'm going to take back what's mine... the Wildside Tag Team Titles. If you've EVER been my friend, you'll be there, and we'll see if blood really is thicker than water when we put The West Texas Rednecks down like the yellow dogs they are. No excuses. Be there.”

David Young throws open the dressing room door. “There's your answer.”

“No. Hold on.” The door shuts, leaving her alone in the hall. She runs a hand through her long blonde hair and shakes her head in dismay as we cut to the ring.

(Interview: 94. Alicia Webb gained 2 points of overness from sheer wintery hotness. David Young gained a point by setting up a big reunion match for next week.)

2. Kid Kool & ? w/Alicia Webb (-F-) vs. Sal del Rio & ? w/Desire (-H-):

Dan "the Dragon" Wilson is in the ring as Silverchair's "Anthem for the Year 2000" begins to play. Kid Kool comes out to a lukewarm reception. He does manage to solidly win over the ring rat demographic, however.

“Introducing first... from Every Girl's Fantasy... weighing in at 180 pounds... Kiiiid Kool!”

Kool slides into the ring and stands on the middle rope, waiting expectangly on his mystery partner.

“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...”

Neil Young continues to sing as Tough Enough III winner John Hennigan explodes through the curtain, with Alicia following behind and clapping with excitement. The teenybopper squeal is almost unbearable. This is basically a Wildside pretty-boy dream team.

“His partner is accompanied to the ring by Alicia Webb... From Los Angeles, California... weighing in at 201 pounds... John Hennigaaaan!”

"Physical" by Olivia Newton-John begins to play, and the crowd sours. Desire leads Sal del Rio out to the ring, holding his Junior Heavyweight Title for all to see. Sal jogs in place, warming up like a prizefighter. She unzips his velour jumpsuit and pulls it down so he can step out of it and take an arrogant twirl.

“Their opponents... FIRST, led to the ring by Every Man's Desire... the NWA Wildside Junior Heavyweight Champion... from Hollywood, SALifornia... 187 pounds... Sal... del Rrrrio!”

"All That Jazz" begins to play, and the crowd response goes from bad to worse.

“Oh no. You've got to... No. His partner hails from Kentwood, Louisiana...weighing in at 183 pounds... THIS... is... Laaaazarus!”

Lazz struts out in his tuxedo, top hat, and tails, taking his sweet time removing each article of clothing and handing it gingerly to an attentive Desire, who arranges it in a neat pile on a nearby chair.

By the time Dan Wilson joins his broadcast partner, they're both whining about this match made in hell. After all the pomp and circumstance, it looks like Lazarus will start with Kid Kool. Kid isn't too keen on that, however, having lost to Lazz last week in a controversial decision, and he points and challenges Sal. Desire tries to get Sal to ignore him, but a flap of the arms and a "bok-bok" chicken impression makes Sal lose his cool and reach out to tag himself in.

Kid Kool smiles and nods, and it looks like the two former tag partners are finally going to lock it up. Kool's had to have been fuming since early August when Sal (then Kid Xtacy) kicked him in the groin and dismissed their valet. An ankle injury forestalled revenge for nearly four months, but Kid Kool is back and shedding the ring rust week by week.

They lock up in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. Sal is the first to score a hold, an arm-wringer. He dances about like an ass, and gets ready to give the limb another crank. Kid Kool flips through, however, and reverses. Sal screams bloody murder as Kid Kool twists the arm.

Sal tries an eye poke to break the hold, but his former partner is hip to that trick and ducks out of the way, turning it into a hammerlock. Sal starts to really lose his cool as he reaches back with his free arm, hoping to get a grab of hair or anything to get out of this predicament. Kid Kool pushes him towards the face corner, and Sal begins begging off in earnest.

John Hennigan reaches in for the tag and starts climbing the ropes. At the top, he puts his hands together and comes off with a big double axe handle to the shoulder of Sal del Rio. Kid Kool hands off the hammerlock and climbs out onto the apron.

Hennigan pulls the hammerlock out into an armbar and starts pulling on it. Kid Kool stomps in time on the apron, trying to work the crowd. Referee Andrew Thomas asks Sal if he gives, but Sal says “No.” He shakes his head, then pauses. “Wait... uh... still no.” This looks to continue for a bit, so we kick it to some...

- - Mid-match Commercials - -

When we return, Hennigan is still wringing the arm. A sweeping kick to the back of the knee flips Sal over onto his face. John stretches, reaching out for the tag. Kid Kool has the tag rope taut, but manages to brush fingers with Hennigan. The referee claps to indicate the legal tag.

John Hennigan drops a leg on Sal's shoulder while Kid Kool climbs up to the top. Hennigan stretches out the arm. Sal del Rio writhes on the canvas, but is left exposed to a flying elbow drop to the arm.

Kid Kool pulls Sal up by the arm and twists it some more. While holding the wrist, he fires off a few kicks to the chest, making Sal dance in place and plead for mercy. Kid Kool surprisingly releases the hold and takes a step back. Sal rubs his wrist and shoulder, then his chest, and begins to grin maliciously. This earns him a kick to the gut that knocks the wind out of him. DDT by Kid Kool spikes him.

Kid Kool takes a lateral press for 1... 2... Sal kicks out and sits up. He crawls towards his corner, reaching desperately for the tag, but Kool snatches his ankle and drags him back towards John Hennigan. Kid Kool tags in Hennigan, who slingshots himself into the ring alongside his partner.

They pull Sal up and push him against the ropes before whipping him across. A double dropkick takes Sal out. Kid Kool acknowledges the referee's request and slides out to the floor. Hennigan drops down into a cover for 1... 2... Lazarus is in to break it up.

Lazz pulls Hennigan up and sends him to the ropes. Hennigan ducks under the telegraphed clothesline and hits a jumping leg lariat on a still groggy Sal del Rio. Lazarus charges, but Hennigan pulls down on the top rope, sending him careening up and over to the floor.

John Hennigan pulls Sal up in a front facelock and drags him to the center of the ring. He throws a hand up and calls for a DDT, but Sal gets his legs under him and "muscles" John to his corner and against the buckles. Sal hits a few driving shoulder blocks to the midsection, then reaches up for the tag, but Lazz isn't there. He looks around, finally seeing Desire, who is pointing to where Lazz lays at ringside.

Sal slaps the ropes in frustration, then hits a few more shoulder blocks, keeping Hennigan in the corner. He hooks him around the waist and lifts, turning him out of the corner, and delivers an inverted atomic drop. A double leg takedown puts Hennigan on the mat. Sal keeps hold of the legs and flips forward into a jackknife for 1... 2... John bridges out.

Hennigan turns into a standing headscissors. He hooks Sal around the waist and lifts, but can't get him all the way up. Sal backdrops out of the hold and dives towards his corner, finally making the tag to Lazarus.

Lazz slingshots himself up onto the top rope and hits a springboard hurricanrana on Hennigan. Hennigan falls sprawling into the ropes, where he hangs on the middle in traditional 6-1-9 position. Lazz opts for a different tactic than Rey Mysterio Jr., however. He straddles Hennigan and hops up and down, simultaneously choking him and "riding the pony." He even gives Hennigan a few playful slaps on the ass until Referee Andrew Thomas enforces the break.

Hennigan comes up from the ropes holding his throat and is wide open for a schoolboy roll up that gets 1... 2... 2.99999! Hennigan kicks out strong.

Lazz pulls Hennigan up by the neck and snap mares him over into a seated position in the center of the ring. He winds up and hits a lashing kick across the spine that makes John cringe. This gives Lazz the opportunity to thrust his groin in Hennigan's face with impunity.

Once John has recovered, Lazz steps back and winds up another kick. He spins, but Hennigan rolls out of the way and to his feet alongside him. A side Russian legsweep takes Lazarus down. Hennigan kips up and surges forward to tag in Kid Kool.

Kid Kool comes in a house afire, slingshotting himself in over the top rope and into a sprint. A clothesline knocks Lazarus to the canvas. Kid Kool hits the ropes and another clothesline. Lazarus refuses to stay down, however, and stumbles right into a hip toss. He rolls through and to his feet, but Kid Kool nails him with a high standing dropkick.

Lazarus finally scrambles over to his corner and tags out to Sal del Rio, who looks absolutely horrified at the prospect. Sal tries to deny the tag, but Referee Andrew Thomas claps to indicate that it's binding. Kid Kool doesn't wait for Sal to grow some grapefruits. Instead, he grabs Sal by the head and brings him in the hard way with a hip toss.

Sal rolls through and to his feet, already racing for the ropes and a clean break. Kid Kool catches him, however, and swings around into an Irish whip... reversed by Sal del Rio. Kid Kool runs up the turnbuckles as Sal pursues. He leapfrogs backward over Sal and pulls him down to the canvas with The Kool Krusher (corner Edge-O-Matic).

Kid Kool pulls Sal into position then points to the corner. He climbs up top and sets himself facing the crowd. He playfully blows a kiss down to Alicia Webb, then hops backward into The Inverted 450 Splash... hitting Sal del Rio FLUSH!

He hooks both legs deep for 1... 2... 3!

Desire is in the ring to check on her beau, and Kid Kool mockingly shines the Junior Heavyweight Title on her shoulder. Lazarus is in to back Kool down even though John Hennigan has his back. The two faces leave victorious with Alicia Webb while Sal del Rio angrily demands answers from his supposed partner.

Lazarus seems shocked at Sal's nerve, and gestures for Desire to go fetch his entrance gear. Desire sulks off to oblige, but Sal seizes her by the arm and turns her around. Words are exchanged between Sal and Lazz until Desire steps between them and calms Sal down. Lazz throws his hands up in disgust and rolls out to the floor, where he retrieves his accessories, leaving Sal and Desire in the ring to fume over their loss.

WINNERS: Kid Kool & John Hennigan by pinfall after The Inverted 450 Splash (Kool over Sal del Rio).

I'll give it a * rating for not being too bad. (O:54, C:46, M:76. Lazarus gained a point of overness from his goofy antics. Kid Kool gained 6 points of overness for shrugging off the ring rust in short order.)

3. Rage in the Cage Next Week:

"long way back from hell" by Danzig begins to play, drawing the attention of both Sal del Rio and Desire. The Lost Boyz, Azrael and Gabriel, slowly stalk out to the ring. They loom menacingly over Sal and Desire, circling them with uncertain intent. Desire calls for the house mic.

“What do you two freaks want?”

They both start spouting off at her, clearly upset, but she doesn't give either one the microphone.

“Why didn't she pick you? Or you? How the hell should I know?! I don't know what goes through that empty head of hers. She picked the new kid. Go figure.”

Sal del Rio grabs the microphone. “You should've picked HIM instead of that weirdo...”

Azrael and Gabriel both reach for the microphone as well, and a three-way tug-of-war develops. Azrael finally comes away with the stick. “Silence! Mock not The Angel of the Morning Dawn... No matter. What is done is done... and what is to come... is PAIN.”

Gabriel takes the microphone away and cackles an evil laugh. “Rage! Come next week... You will be sacrificed... HERE in the Church of Southern Rasslin'... upon an altar of canvas... wrapped... in FIFTEEN feet of steel chainlink fence!”

Azrael snarls. “No matter which way you turn, you cannot escape your fate...”

“Just like the cage door... it shall be SEALED...”

(Interview: 70. Desire gained 2 points of overness from providing some heterosexuality in this emo goth bitchfest. Said emo goths each gained a much needed point of overness.)

- - Commercials - -

4. Smokey Carmichaels w/Jeff G. Bailey & Rainman (-H-) vs. Slim J (-F-):

We come back from the break to find Smokey Carmichaels already in the ring with Jeff G. Bailey and Rainman. He holds a microphone while he leans over the ropes, and the crowd is already giving him heat. Dan "the Dragon" Wilson stands a respectful distance away.

“Introducing first... the RIGHTFUL Nubian Heavyweight Champion... ME... And my opponent is Wildside's resident wanksta... the kid who took Jeff G. Bailey's tutelage and guidance for granted...”

“Yo, yo, YO!”

Slim J comes through the curtain, carrying a microphone of his own.

“You better getcho facts right, cuz. I ain't nevah taken NOTHIN' for granted. Motown ain't NEVAH been kind to me. I'm as real as it gets, homie. Now, I'd like nothin' more than to kick some rhymes old school Slim J style...” Slim J starts climbing up the steps onto the ring apron. “...but I got this feelin' that it would just leave me open to a three-on-one attack.” Slim steps into the ring cautiously, causing Dan Wilson to bail for the announce position. “Hell, fool, it's what I would do, so's I can't blame yas. But sh*t, dawg, the three of ya's standin' there like that... y'all look like a g*dd*m Oreo cookie.”

This is too much for Smokey to take, and he charges. Slim is ready for him, however, and discards the mic to hit a basement dropkick that knocks Smokey down in mid-stride. Rainman steps in to represent, only to eat a no-look superkick from Slim J. Jeff G. Bailey looks at each of his charges and, horrified, drops prone to roll to the safety of ringside.

As Rainman rolls out as well, Slim pulls Smokey Carmichaels into a small package! 1... 2... Smokey springs free.

Smokey rolls out to the floor, and it's time for an NWA Elite strategy session. Slim J marches over to pull back on the top rope, causing the crowd to murmur in anticipation. Before he can slingshot himself into any acrobatics, Smokey Carmichaels hooks a leg and yanks Slim unceremoniously out to the floor.

A knee lift doubles Slim over and leaves him in prime position to get seized by the scruff of the neck and the waistband of his blue sweatpants. Smokey runs him head-first into the ring steps, then scoops him up and rolls him back into the ring. Smokey fixes the steps and casually walks up them to stand on the apron. Satisfied with where Slim lays, he climbs up to the top and sets himself. Smokey NAILS Slim J with The Top Rope Leg Drop!

Smokey hooks a leg and gets 1... 2... Slim J throws a shoulder up! Jeff G. Bailey was already half in the ring to celebrate. Smokey is hardly pleased.

He pulls Slim up by the neck and into a gruff front facelock. He lifts and sets Slim J's feet on the top turnbuckles. A lifting DDT brutally spikes Slim J, who goes rigid for a moment before falling to the mat. Smokey takes a cocky lateral press for 1... 2... 3-NO! Slim kicks out.

Smokey stomps over to the corner and pulls himself up into a seated position on the top turnbuckle. Standing on the middle ropes, he measures Slim J, waiting for him to get to a crouch. When he does, Smokey leaps off for a famouser, called a "hip-hop dropper" by Steven Prazak.

With Slim J splayed out on the mat face down, Smokey straddles his back and squats down, looking to cinch in a camel clutch. Slim gets his hands up and shoves himself back through Smokey's legs, however, and hops up to hook Smokey's arms in a backslide. After a bit of denial, Smokey gets taken over for 1... 2... Smokey pops free.

Slim sprints to the ropes and hops nimbly onto the top, perching there precariously. Smokey turns and gets caught flush with a high reverse crossbody for 1... 2... Smokey kicks out strong, tossing Slim J aside.

The two men get up and Slim J taunts with a grinning crotch grab that, after the third cheap near fall, has made the angry black man even angrier. An Irish whip sends Slim J to the corner, but he runs up the ropes and creams the incoming Smokey Carmichaels with the 3-6 Mafia Kick! Fiff as stuck. Slim quickly hooks a leg for 1... 2... 3.

No! Smokey kicks out just before the three, and Referee Chris Emerson is left to hold up two fingers to make the call clear. Jeff G. Bailey and Rainman aren't shy about expressing their relief.

Slim pulls Smokey up in a front facelock. He hooks one leg and lifts, hitting The Spliffy Twista sideways fisherman's buster in the center of the ring! Before Slim can cover, however, Rainman is up on the apron to distract the referee on some false pretense. Slim won't stand for it, and hits a high standing dropkick that sends Rainman flying into Jeff G. Bailey and leaves both laid out on the concrete.

Slim turns to find Smokey valiantly struggling back up. Slim winds up and spins, but his roundhouse kick is ducked by Carmichaels. Smokey tucks his head under the arm and takes a rear waistlock. A back suplex buries Slim J. Smokey rolls the rear waistlock, shifting directly behind for a release German suplex that flips Slim all the way over onto his face and chest.

Smokey rolls him over and drags him into position near the corner. He climbs up to the top and sets himself for The Top Rope Leg Drop, but Slim scrambles up and rushes into the corner, springboarding off the middle rope to hit The Shinnywalk step-up bicycle kick.

Slim J drops back down to the canvas and turns his back on Smokey. He puts Smokey on his shoulders in an electric chair drop position, setting up his Anger Management tombstone Storm cradle driver. He gets Smokey upside-down, but can't keep him there as Smokey wraps around the back and pulls Slim over into a schoolboy roll-up for for 1... 2... Smokey kicks his legs out onto the middle rope for leverage... 3!

Smokey is up to get his hand raised while Slim J protests, but everything comes to a halt once Jimmy Rave comes sprinting down the aisle and slides into the ring. Smokey tries to cut him off with a clothesline, but Rave ducks under it and runs up the turnbuckles. Smokey turns right into The Gravity Killer tornado DDT!

Rainman and Jeff G. Bailey seem ready to climb into the ring to intervene, but Slim J pats Rave on the back and grabs his crotch in the direction of his former stablemates. The heels acknowledge the numbers aren't quite in their favor anymore. Rainman grabs Smokey by the arm and drags him out to the floor to recover.

WINNER: Smokey Carmichaels by pinfall, illegally using the ropes for leverage.

Almost a ** match, but not quite - *½ rating. (O:58, C:50, M:81. Smokey Carmichaels gained a point of overness from picking up the crafty win in a hard-fought match.)

5. One Winner, One Title:

Before the fires of hostility can rekindle, Alicia Webb comes strutting out with a clipboard of papers and a microphone. She pulls up near the announce table and prepares to deliver an undoubtedly important announcement, pausing to allow the whistles and catcalls to die down.

“Jimmy Rave! Smokey Carmichaels! I'm glad I caught up with both of you at the same time. I have here a contract drawn up by the NWA Championship Committee. They, along with Wildside management, have decreed that both the... uh... so-called Nubian Heavyweight Title belt AND the newly commissioned Wildside Television Title belt will be suspended from the arena ceiling at Global Warfare. Whichever of you is able to climb a ladder and lay claim to EITHER belt... will be that title's champion... and the other title will be rendered defunct.”

The crowd cheers wildly, eventually distilling into a "Smokey sucks! Smokey sucks!" chant. Jimmy Rave and Slim J throw their hands up to encourage the chant into deafening proportions. In classic heel fashion, Jeff G. Bailey intervenes to cover Smokey's ears and convince him everything's going to be okay.

The moment the crowd finally relents, Alicia continues. “Now if I can just get your signatures...”

Jimmy Rave reaches out through the ropes and takes the clipboard. He slides the pen out from its sleeve and throws a quick signature on the second page, finishing off with a smug, dramatic fluorish that invokes a pop. He replaces the pen and passes it back to Alicia, who nods before offering it to Smokey.

Before Smokey can take it, however, Jeff G. Bailey steps forward and waves it off. He points at the clipboard and starts mumbling something inaudible to Alicia, made all the more unheard by the deafening boos. Thankfully, she fills us in.

“You want a copy? I guess... I've only got the one, and I was told to get both sets of signatures...”

Bailey's candor goes unappreciated by Jimmy Rave, who motions for Alicia to pass him up the microphone. Reluctantly, she obliges, waiting patienly for him to speak his mind. The crowd murmurs in anticipation.

“Hey, hey. I understand. You're a lawyer, Bailey. You wanna make sure all the i's are dotted and the t's are crossed. I understand. But understand, I'm not a lawyer. I'm a wrestler... and a damn good one, if I do say so myself. After all, I AM the Wildside Television Champion...”

The heels immediately dispute the claim, but they don't have microphones, so it's all impotent anger. “...But hey... maybe I'll change my mind... Maybe I'll stand at the top of that ladder... look down at you, Smokey, laid out on the canvas... look down at you, Jeff G. Bailey, wringing your hands like a nervous nanny... and reach out for the Nubian Heavyweight Title. I don't know. I'll have to see how I feel when I get there, because either way... I'm walking INTO Global Warfare a champion... and I'm walking OUT a champion... I'm just not yet sure of what.”

Outraged, Rainman tries to slide into the ring to get at Rave, but Bailey and Smokey hold him back. Before Bailey can get his charges away from the scene, however, Smokey angrily rips the clipboard out of Alicia's hands. He signs the third page and holds the whole thing up for a raucous cheer. Jeff G. Bailey shakes his head in frustration and is finally able to get his team on their way to the back.

(Interview: 97! Alicia Webb gained 2 more points of overness from acting in an official capacity. Jimmy Rave gained a point of overness from putting a little sizzle on the steak that is the blow-off match for this epic feud.)

- - Commercials - -

6. ? vs. Adam Winsor (-F-) for a shot at the Wildside Heavyweight Title at Global Warfare:

We come back, and Steven Prazak is barely over the big ladder match announcement when he starts getting all psyched up for the main event. We already know that, deserving or not, Adam Windsor has been invited to represent his native England against a mystery opponent flown in from Japan. Steve's broadcast colleague, Dan "the Dragon" Wilson is in the ring, ready to introduce the surprise opponent.

“The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL and a thirty minute time limit. The winner of this match will go on to challenge for the Wildside Heavyweight Title at Global Warfare. Introducing FIRST...” Dan checks his cue cards and furrows his brow. “...from Osaka, Japan... weighing in at 187 pounds... Black Tiiiigerssss!”

"Battle Without Honor or Humanity" by Tomoyasu Hotei off the recently released Kill Bill soundtrack begins to play. Black Tigers strolls out with a black cape held out over his shoulders. The fans are hardly thrilled, but he parades around ringside anyway. Eventually, he passes the cape to a ring attendant and climbs in the ring to await his opponent.

“His opponent... from Coventry, England... weighing 214 pounds... he is royally bred... of royal blood... THIS is The Royal Stud... Adam Wiiiindsor!”

"Pomp and Circumstance" plays as Adam Windsor walks out in his red-white-and-blue sequined robe. He tousles his long blonde hair, looking more focused than he has in a long time. He climbs into the ring and shrugs out of the robe, passing it down to the attendant.

As he does so, Black Tigers moves forward, but checks himself, seemingly conflicted about attacking the exposed back of his foe. When Adam turns around, Tigers quickly puts his hands together and bows deeply. Windsor returns the display of respect, and the two start things off circling each other warily.

The two lock up and Black Tigers goes behind with a hammerlock. Windsor slaps at his shoulder and judges his position, then twists into a fireman's carry takeover, quickly barring the arm of Tigers. As Tigers regains his vertical base, Windsor switches to a top wristlock.

Black Tigers takes Windsor to the ropes and shoves him across. A Japanese arm drag puts Windsor on his back. Tigers slides forward to lock in a side headlock and keep the blue blood grounded. Black Tigers cranks on the hold for a while until Windsor is able to counter with a headscissors. Black Tigers balls up and kips out, turning in a ready stance.

Adam Windsor cautiously stands back up and politely bows. Black Tigers returns the gesture, creating an international variation of the tired indy respect stance. Windsor puts his hands up and indicates a desire to enter the fingerlace test of strength. Black Tigers tilts his head like a dog who's heard a strange noise, then obliges.

Windsor gets the early advantage, forcing Black Tigers to bow and bridge to avoid being pushed onto his back. Tigers leans forward and throws his shoulder into it, breaking one arm free and using the other to wrench Windsor into a hammerlock. Adam Windsor quickly twists out and takes Tigers down with a drop toe hold.

Adam hops forward for the side headlock. Black Tigers gets up to one knee then his feet and manages to shove Windsor off and into the ropes. Another Japanese arm drag catches Windsor on the rebound and throws him overhead. Adam sits up, only to eat a basement dropkick to the back of the head.

Windsor rolls away clutching his skull. When he gets back up, Black Tigers bows again. Adam Windsor reluctantly bows as well. Black Tigers seemed to be mocking him, but perhaps not.

Another collar-and-elbow tie-up results in Adam Windsor scoring an arm-wringer. A few twists leaves Black Tigers practically tap dancing in pain. He reaches for the rope break, but Windsor has him wisely centered. Black Tigers hits a boot to the gut that enables him to reverse the arm-wringer, but he doesn't keep the hold on long before hitting a Yakuza kick across the jaw. A reverse neckbreaker completes The Ichiban Sequence. The strangely... familiar... Ichiban Sequence...

Before Adam Windsor can suffer too much deja vu, Black Tigers grabs a leg and pulls back on it, starting to lock in a Texas cloverleaf, but he abandons it midstream and turns to stand on Windsor's legs just above the knees. He bends the legs up, hooking them around his own knees. He grabs Adam's wrists and falls back, pushing Adam into a Mexican surfboard.

Referee Chris Emerson drops into position to check Tigers' shoulders, counting 1... 2... Black Tigers avoids the pin by rolling over. He leans back and stretches Windsor out a second time until Emerson counts 1... 2... Black Tigers rolls over and releases the wrists to shuffle forward and lock in a camel clutch, free from the risk of an accidental pinfall. The rest hold is a perfect time for...

- - Mid-match Commercials - -

Despite crowd apathy, Windsor has been able to battle his way up to one knee, causing Black Tigers to shift to a sleeper hold. As Adam Windsor makes his feet, Black Tigers jumps onto his back, employing a body scissors to avoid the snap mare counter. Adam gets up a head of steam running backwards and crushes Tigers against the turnbuckles.

Both men stagger out of the corner. Adam Windsor scores a desperation no-look Superkick before falling flat onto his own face as well. He uses the nearby ropes to pull himself up. Adam bounces off of them and hits a big leg drop. He leans over and hooks a leg for 1... 2... Black Tigers kicks out.

Adam pulls Black Tigers up and hits a loud knife-edge chop. Black Tigers retaliates, and the two trade chops for a bit with Windsor getting the better of it until Black Tigers breaks up the exchange with a thumb to the eye. While Adam tries to clear his vision, Black Tigers spins on one heel and unloads a Roaring Elbow!

Black Tigers dives into a cover for 1... 2... Adam Windsor kicks out.

Tigers pulls Windsor up by the arm and goes for a whip to the ropes, but Adam hops into a reversal. Adam sets himself for a backdrop, but perhaps too soon as Black Tigers spikes him with a tornado butterfly DDT. He keeps the double chickenwing applied and rolls it into a tiger driver for 1... 2... 3!

No! Adam Windsor throws his shoulder up just in time. Black Tigers can be clearly heard shouting “What?! That was three!”

Referee Chris Emerson holds up two fingers and shouts “Two!... Ni!...” Emerson knows Japanese it seems. And Black Tigers seems pretty fluent in English as well...

Frustrated, Black Tigers pulls Windsor up and looks to put him back in the double chickenwing, but Windsor turns into him, back-to-back, and hits The Royal Stunner!

Black Tigers reels, but doesn't drop. Not until Adam Windsor kips up and hits The Superkick, at least. Adam pulls Tigers up and hefts him onto his shoulder by the knees, setting up The Kryptonite Krunch, but Tigers flips over and hooks him around the waist in a sunset flip. Adam rolls through and to his feet, backing into the ropes as Tigers gets back up and rushes forward.

Black Tigers ducks the charging clothesine and the two hit opposite sets of ropes. Black Tigers comes off with a Yakuza kick to the side of the head that sends Windsor stumbling into the ropes. A boot to the gut doubles him over and sets him up for the double chickenwing. Black Tigers lifts and sets Windsor's boots on the top rope briefly, almost making it a slingshot Elevated Butterfly DDT!

Black Tigers floats over into the lateral press for 1... 2... 3!

Black Tigers will represent Japan against Scottie Wrenn for the Wildside Heavyweight Title at Global Warfare. Adam Windsor struggles to get up, but once he manages to do so, he shows exemplary sportsmanship by extending a hand to his opponent. Black Tigers responds by turning his back on Windsor and rolling out to the floor to retrieve his cape. The show closes with Adam Windsor standing in the ring with his hands on his hips while the announce team questions the true identity of this Japanese masked man with a coveted title shot.

WINNER: Black Tigers cleanly by pinfall after The Elevated Butterfly DDT.

I'll give it a * rating for not being too bad. (O:54, C:48, M:75.)

Overall Rating: 68 % (+9 %! Awesome, especially with it being “one of those shows”!)

TV Rating: 0.37 (-0.02)

Strongest Segment: Anything with Alicia Webb. (94% with David Young, 97% with Jimmy Rave!)

Weakest Segment: Sadly, our matches. (54%, 58%, and 54% Grr!)

Attendance: 155 @ $20 each (+3)

November 24, 2003

I push Adam Windsor to Upper Midcard as per his request. I push Lazarus to Upper Midcard at the recommendation of my Writing Staff.

November 27, 2003

Here we go again… NWA:TNA have fallen back to National. Let’s hope they release some good talent. Former NWA World Tag Team Champion and New Church member Slash is cut loose. Pretty tempting… Julio Dinero is free. Gerwitz is already gone from his writing position. That didn’t take long. Dean Malenko’s also available as a Road Agent. Too bad he wants $82K, about $60K more than I’m willing to give any staff member right now.

Meanwhile, CMLL owner Francisco Lutteroth wants my services. I tell him “Gracias pero no gracias, amigo.”

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

Have fun,

TheRay

Edited January 23, 2007 by TheRaySays

[TheRaySays]

November 30, 2003

The National Wrestling Alliance and America One present…

NWA Wildside TV #22

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

“Tonight, NWA Wildside engages in Global Warfare when The Ticking Time Bomb... 'Psycho' Scottie Wrenn puts the Wildside Heavyweight Title on the line against Osaka Pro superstar Black Tigers. Will Scottie retain or will the masked man take the title back to The Land of the Rising Sun? We'll look at that and much, much more as we scour the globe to bring you the best in wrestling action 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.

“Folks, I'm joined by my broadcast colleague, Dan 'the Dragon' Wilson, and we're going to run down the card for tonight's Global Warfare, and I've gotta be honest... with all four titles on the line... five, if you count the Nubian Heavyweight Title... I don't have any idea what to expect.”

“And don't forget about the cage match between Rage and The Lost Boyz! That goes down at the end of our show tonight, here on free TV! I don't even know how we can do that!”

“Well, before we get to that undoubtedly violent encounter, we've got a lot of ground to cover, so let's get started. Tonight, two titles become one as the fates of the Wildside Television Title and this unsanctioned Nubian Heavyweight Title are decided in a ladder match between The Original XTC... Jimmy Rave and Smokey Carmichaels.”

“The issues between these men go waaaay back, Steve. It was late August when Smokey demanded a match and took Rave too, too lightly. Smokey used an unorthodox counter to Rave's Gravity Killer, crotching the young star on the ropes, but a backdrop put Smokey on the floor to be counted out.”

“He didn't take that loss well, Dan. The two would... well... for lack of a better term, they would trade crotch shots for a few weeks before Smokey was able to pick up a few tainted victories over Jimmy.”

“The second of which saw the shocking return of and new look for THEN Wildside Television Champion Rainman!”

“Well, that's not technically correct, is it? I mean Rainman might've left Television Champion, but when he returned just prior to Fright Night, that wasn't the Television Title we've come to know and love strapped around his waist. Wearing a caftan and other African regalia, he began calling himself the Nubian Heavyweight Champion.”

“Teaming with Rainman at Fright Night, Smokey forced Jimmy Rave to find a partner in Caprice Coleman, but unexpected racial tensions reared their ugly head.”

“It was just a misunderstanding, Steve! Jimmy Rave's no racist, and whether Smoke and Rain like it or not, he beat Rainman for the Wildside Television Title fair and square.”

“Sure, but Smokey wouldn't allow the so-called Nubian Heavyweight Title to fall into Jimmy's hands, and ran off with the belt. Meanwhile, Rainman's status in Jeff G. Bailey's NWA Elite was growing tentative. Hoping for a show of unity, Bailey sent Elite member John Phoenix out to face Caprice Coleman.”

“The results were surely not what Jeff G. Bailey had expected. Rrrroll the clip!”

November 19, 2003: John Phoenix w/The NWA Elite (Jeff G. Bailey, Rainman, & Slim J) (-H-) vs. Caprice Coleman (-F-):

Caprice pulls Phoenix up by the neck. He takes Phoenix to one corner then whips him across. Phoenix holds his hands out to stop himself, grabbing the ropes and trying to vault up into a handstand to dodge, but he lands on Coleman's shoulders in a fireman's carry. Coleman walks him out of the corner and throws him into a Thermal Shock diamond cutter. Coleman gets to his knees and looks out at the assembled NWA Elite, then out at the crowd. No love from either. He leans forward and hooks a leg for 1... 2... 3.

NO! Phoenix somehow gets a shoulder up! The announce team can't believe it, but Jeff G. Bailey is ecstatic.

Coleman jerks Phoenix up by the arm and sends him into the ropes. Phoenix ducks under the spinning heel kick and skids to a halt. Coleman turns and gets blasted in the face with a quick superkick. Phoenix practically falls into the cover, getting 1... 2... 2.9999! Coleman rolls his shoulder.

Jeff G. Bailey orders Rainman to help. Rainman grabs a steel chair from ringside, unseating a front row fan. He folds it up angrily and hops up onto the apron, brandishing it threateningly. The referee is over immediately to intercept, losing the tug-of-war battle for the chair.

John Phoenix pulls Caprice Coleman up by the neck and delivers a staggering head butt. He then hooks Coleman around the neck and sets up a uranage, but Coleman twists out into a hammerlock. Phoenix reverses into an Irish whip, but Coleman plants his foot and reverses with a hop, sending Phoenix careening into Rainman and the chair. Both drop off the apron at the feet of The NWA Elite.

Phoenix, meanwhile, stumbles back into Coleman and gets hefted onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry... Thermal Shock! Coleman rolls Phoenix over as Referee Andrew Thomas slides into position to count the 1... 2... 3!

Rainman is in the ring almost immediately, laying chairshots into Caprice Coleman while the rest of The NWA Elite help Phoenix up. Phoenix shoves them aside and marches over to lay boots into Coleman as well. The timekeeper is going nuts, ringing the bell incessantly, but it doesn't look like any help is going to come for Caprice just yet. Rainman and Phoenix boot Coleman out to the floor under the bottom rope while Slim J holds the ropes for Jeff G. Bailey to enter the ring.

Jeff G. Bailey takes the house mic from Dan "the Dragon" Wilson while his NWA Elite roam the ring around him.

“Dammit, when I said *unity*, that's NOT what I had in mind! We are five fingers of f**king FEAR! Together, we form an iron fist that'll choke the LIFE out of NWA Wildside and make it give us what we want! I'm the thumb, of course... but...”

Slim J puts a hand in Bailey's chest, making the other two heels turn to glare at him. He holds up his other hand and smiles, then motions for Bailey to hand him the microphone.

“Whoa whoa whoa there, Jeffy G.! You said FIVE fingers... I count you...” Slim tucks in his thumb so he's holding up four fingers. “Rainman...” He drops his index finger. “John Phoenix...” Slim makes a big show of wiggling his pinky before tucking it in, leaving two fingers up. “...and me...” He drops his ring finger, leaving, of course, the middle finger extended. “That's bad math, boss.”

Bailey snatches the microphone back. “Not if you count the NEWEST member of The NWA Elite... because possession is nine-tenths of the law, he's the NEW Nubian Heavyweight Champion... Smokey Carmichaels!”

Smokey steps through the curtain with the former Wildside TV Title on his shoulder. None of the other members can believe it, including Rainman, who is clearly conflicted as his new partner carries a belt that belonged to him for so long. The fans jeer as Bailey holds the ropes open for his latest acquisition. So much for wanting to "Kill Whitey..."

Suddenly, "Leave You Far Behind" by Lunatic Calm begins to play, and Jimmy Rave steps through the curtain. He has a microphone in one hand and uses the other to point to the ring.

“Nine-tenths of the law?! Yeah, okay, but that means that you're nine-tenths chickensh*t! Unless... of course... you can find the minerals to challenge me for MY Wildside Television Title?!”

Later: Smokey Carmichaels w/The NWA Elite (Jeff G. Bailey, Rainman, John Phoenix, & Slim J) (-H-) vs. Jimmy Rave (-F-) (For The NWA-W Television/Nubian Heavyweight Title):

Smokey stomps away at Rave, then pulls him away from the ropes. He straddles him and starts locking in the cobra/camel clutch combo that Rainman calls The Hillside Strangler. Rave fights it off, however, and scoots out between Smokey's legs and behind him. Rave quickly stands and hooks Smokey's arms for a tiger suplex, bridged for 1... 2... Smokey kicks out.

Jimmy Rave pulls Smokey up by the arm and tries a corner whip, but Smokey plants his foot and reverses. Rave stops short of the turnbuckles, leaping up onto the middle ropes. Smokey is already charging in and can't stop in time to prevent Rave from leaping and twisting into The Gravity Killer tornado DDT! Smokey is spiked brutally and board-stiff as he falls to the canvas. Jimmy Rave rolls across his back and hooks a leg deep to score the 1... 2... 3.

Except The NWA Elite have collectively pulled Referee Chris Emerson out to the floor before he can count the 3. There's some sort of contrived attempt at protesting the pinfall from Jeff G. Bailey, but Emerson can smell a rat, and signals for security to eject him from ringside. This draws an actual cheer, which just swells as Emerson points at each member of The Elite in turn, throwing them all out. There's some indignation on the part of the heels, but security manages to start guiding them to the ramp.

Jeff G. Bailey shoulders the title belt, but Emerson wants it turned over. We've got a brief tug-of-war for it down at ringside which results in a stalemate between the two non-combatants. Security ably keeps the members of The NWA Elite out of it.

Meanwhile, in the ring, Rave has Smokey in a seated position and is hitting the ropes for his Doppler Effect knee to the face, but Smokey kips up and hits a dragon screw leg whip on the offered leg. He kicks away at the thigh for a bit before turning into a figure-four leg lock attempt. Jimmy Rave gets his other foot up to boot Smokey in the posterior, breaking the hold and sending Carmichaels tumbling through the ropes and to the concrete.

Rave rolls out to pursue. Smokey gets up and rips the title belt free from the tug-of-war. He turns and pastes Jimmy Rave across the face with it. Referee Chris Emerson waves the match off and signals for the bell.

Jimmy Rave is far from laid out, however, and pauses with a hand to his face, checking for blood. He then catches a second wind, just unloading fists and chops at Smokey, who returns in kind. The NWA Elite want in, but security holds them at bay. Before Jeff G. Bailey can get his hands on the so-called Nubian Heavyweight Title, Referee Chris Emerson bends down to lay claim to it and retreats to keep it out of reach.

Chaos continues to reign with Rave and Carmichaels brawling through the crowd, Bailey chasing Emerson, and security escorting the rest of The NWA Elite to the back as we go to commercials.