Suspension of Disbelief: Wait, What? (WrestleMania XXX, The Undertaker, Bray Wyatt)

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Before I Get Started…

I…

You know what? There is too much. Let me sum up. Buttercup is going to marry Humperdink in little less than half an hour.

Suspension of Disbelief Begins… NOW!

Okay, so before the international crowd tonight tries to add “Cesaro’ing” to the culture, or starts chanting “RUGGED RONNIE GARVIN!,” or yelling “WE WANT TACOS!” at Sin Cara, let’s take a moment to recap just what all went down last nite. I’ll list the segment and matches and then pontificate, and hopefully this thing will clock in at under a bajillion words.

And awaaayyyyy we go!

Fatal Four Way Tag Team (back again! something something let’s begin! something b double o t y oh my! whoop there it is!) Championship Match – The Usos vs RybAxel vs The Real Americans vs Los Matadores.

I like RybAxel enough in a “Power and Glory” kinda way. These type of Big Man, Little Man tag teams are always entertaining. Ryback is done being a thing, though, and Curtis Axel should be allowed to just be Joe Hennig and put on some good wrestling matches with guys who need good matches. Give him the PerfectPlex and let him just enjoy his time being a third generation guy who won’t ever be as good as his dad — something that is true about almost everyone else in the entire world.

The Usos… Ehh… They seem to be good kids, they’re entertaining enough, but I don’t particularly care about them. It’s nice to have those ugly title belts on a real tag team that hits all the unwritten Patty Duke Show requirements for tag teams to have (now THERE’S a reference fo’ yo’ ass!), but the cranky old guy in me wants someone to moidalize these bums.

Los Matadores are harmless in a Bushwhackers kinda way. They’re clearly WWE’s attempt at creating a silly comedic tag team that’s fun for the kids and the old folks. Seriously, working up animosity over Los Matadores is just proof that you weren’t breast-fed for long enough.

The Real Americans are a beast tag team that should be allowed to wreck shop ala the Powers of Pain or KroniK or The Acolytes. Alas, a funny thing happened on the way to the forum, and Antonio Cesaro, seemingly put with Jack Swagger and Zeb Coulter as something to do, is now biding his time before he’s pushed into a main event villain spot. Mark my words, tonight’s the night that the people start the “PUSH CESARO!” movement in earnest. Worked with Punk, failed with Ziggler, worked with Bryan, and now it’s Cesaro’s turn.

Anyway, this match was just aight for me, dog. The great big “Let’s have everyone splash each other on the outside” was way too slow-moving for me and just so not worthy of that “HO LY SHI!” chant that happened. I’m okay with the ending. Cesaro ate two savate kicks and a double splash. That’s putting down err’body. Here’s to hoping they finally build up the tag division. I know, I know — that’s like wishing for the Coyote to catch the Road Runner but dangit, I’m a dreamer!

Hulk Hogan. “Stone Cold” Steve Austin. The Rock.

I’ll say it again. Hulk Hogan. “Stone Cold” Steve Austin. The Rock. Ay bruh… If there is any Suspensioneer out there that doesn’t think 10 year old, 17 year old, and 31 year old me weren’t cheering and hugging each other when this happened, then I think you’ve been reading the wrong column. I love The Hulkster. I love The Rattlesnake. Y’all already know I love The Great One. Seeing them all in the ring at the same time was just so friggin’ cool for me. Those guys were my heroes, my inspirations, for so many years, their ability to rise above difficult situations gave me models and mantra to face my own, and having them all together was great. I mean, I did face a horrible thought as to who I would root for if a fight broke out between them (Rocky, but please know it hurt my heart to admit that — it’s like picking between favorite parents or siblings or Taco Bell vs Chipotle), but overall it was nothin’ but love for them. And, because I’m me, I lost all sense of ego and went “YEEES!” and threw my arms up in the air when The Rock’s music hit. Oh, also, I’m sure we’re just living in a space between all of the oh-so-clever “Superdome, Silverdome, Uma, Oprah” memes. This is low hanging fruit at its low hangingest, so expect a ton of signs from people who still tell “Not!” jokes.

Triple H vs Daniel Bryan — Winner gets to be in the title match at the end of the night.

I’ve already stated that I’m aboard the Daniel Bryan bandwagon, but part of me would’ve cackled with delight if Triple H would’ve won with a roll-up in 18 seconds. Cackled. With. Delight. I don’t often partake in Schadenfreude, but I’ve also had real life bitch slap me so many times that sometimes I go, “Yep. There ya go. Dreams get shattered every day. Get back to work” and don’t feel bad about it. Anyway, I had to admit that, but I also wanted D-Bry to win. The match itself was good, Hunter worked his ass off in a way I haven’t seen since he was a full-time wrestler. Hunter put Bryan over nice and clean, Stephanie looked conflictingly hot (My 1999 crush on her was second only to my 1995 crush on Amy Jo Johnson, aka Kimberly The Pink Power Ranger, and truth be told I’m still bitter she married, well, anyone but 1999 Me), and even the post-match shenanigans were 100% in line with the story that has unfolded between all them.

The Shield vs Kane and the New Age Outlaws.

The Shield came out in their cool Cobra-Kai masks, The Outlaws and Kane came out, there was a spear, and then The Shield won. I wonder if the opening segment ran long and this was the logical match to cut short (cutting the diva match this year was not an option thanks to all the pub Total Divas is giving WWE). I mean, if you think about it, Kane is a bajillion, the Outlaws are a bajillion, and The Shield are dominant ass kickers. I would’ve liked more of a match, but I’m not mad. Although… I’m still doing the math on that power bomb. Let’s see, it was a triple power bomb on 2 guys, so is that six power bombs? But there were 5 guys in the ring, so is that 30? Shit. Where’s my graphing calculator? But seriously, folks… Anyway, I was happy that the New Age Outlaws got this little nostalgia run in WWE to end their shizzle the right way. They left and got into drugs (allegedly) and had to slum it in TNA and resort to badmouthing Vince in shoot videos, but on a humanity level I’m happy their story ended with a comeback and not a sad blurb one day.

The Andre The Giant Memorial Battle Royal

This was just so much fun. You had your serious contenders (The Big Show, Sheamus, The Miz), your jobbers (3MB, Justin Gabriel, Xavier Woods), your “They’re big enough to win but they won’t” guys (The Great Khali, Titus O’Neil, Mark Henry), your sentimental, “Hey, I like such-and-such!” guys (Kofi Kingston, Rey Mysterio, Cody Rhodes) and your dark horses (Dolph Ziggler, Antonio Cesaro, Alberto Del Rio) — amongst others. Just a great time, a battle royal — NAY! a battle royale — with a buncha guys beating each other up and trying to throw one another over the top rope. I predicted Big Show, would’ve liked to have seen Cody Rhodes win, would’ve lost my effing mind to see Kofi Kingston win (his spot on the stairs was delightful — I can see not caring about Kofi Kingston, but not liking Kofi Kingston is akin to hoping kids have to get shots at the doctor’s office), and really would’ve been happy no matter who won. In the end, seeing Antonio Cesaro body slam The Big Show and then chuck his ass out of the ring was great. Big Show always does business and gives everything he’s got whether he goes over or does the job, whether he’s a face or a heel, no matter what. Plus, even when he was in the middle of being a bad guy, little kids LOVED HIM. Mind you, I’m only 5-7 but my nephews go apeshit over me because I’m a big ol’ fat guy and typically larger than most people they see, so I can only imagine how zonked they must be to see a LEGIT giant. Great job by everyone, and a hell of a marquee win for Cesaro. Great wrestler, great personality, and hopefully the great booking that helped the Shield and the Wyatts will also help Cesaro become the next big thaaaang. Pause.

John Cena vs Bray Wyatt.

Lawdy, lawdy… Where do I even begin? The Wyatt’s intro was amazing. Just creepy and unsettling and brilliant. Bray Wyatt’s weird velour marching band pants were great. I was bummed that we seem to be past the point where John Cena gets awesome entrances at WrestleMania (my two favorite being the gospel choir from WrestleMania XXVII and the multiple Cenas from, I think, WrestleMania XXV?). The match itself — in terms of the moves executed — was average, but it was EVERYTHING ELSE EVER IN THE MATCH that was phenomenal. It was incredible seeing WWE’s version of “The Dark Knight,” with Bray Wyatt playing “The man who wants to watch the world burn” and John Cena in the role of conflicted hero who is walking the tight-rope between good and evil. And really, that’s a brilliant fucking story to tell. When a good man perceives a threat and has to embrace some of the ideals he fights against to ensure the safety of the ideals he fights for, that’s some compelling ass storytelling. Wyatt, for his part, is a genius. I fully admit I was late to the Wyatt Family LoveFest, but I’m so happy I didn’t curmudgeon my way out of embracing this. he’s easily the best character to come along in god knows how long — none of this “Myself With The Volume Turned Up” nonsense. Just a great acting job by a talented individual. Plus, HOW CREEPY WAS THE SINGING? Buncha rasslin’ fans swaying and singing, “He’s got the whole world in his hands” while poor, reluctant, conflicted John Cena is fighting a match, but really, for his soul. Ugh. Wyatt handing Cena a chair to use on him, welcoming the pain in order to prove a point that Cena is as much of a monster as he is, Cena wanting nothing more than to haul off and smack the beard off of Wyatt’s face but ultimately using it on Harper was some intense stuff. In the end, Cena got the pinfall and the victory, and Wyatt lost again because Cena didn’t embrace the dark side. But! While this was satisfying in itself, it would be awesome to see John Cena still shaken and disturbed. The swaying and singing, the lengths Wyatt was willing to go to destroy Cena, the fact that John came THISCLOSE to betraying everything he stands for just to get this different-looking, disturbing individual away from him… I mean, the best follow-up to this is John wearing this match on his face and in his voice for the next little bit. It’s EASILY the most interesting John Cena has been in forever and a day and there are miles to go before this is done. Past that, it continues Bray Wyatt’s path to find a larger conduit, to corrupt a more popular soul to spread his message of nihilism and pain, of hopelessness and fear, of allowing the darkness of the world to infiltrate your soul because he thinks it’s better to choose that existence than to be forced into it anyway… Just motherfucking amazing storytelling and, odds are good, the match that I will re-watch the most.

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And now, for no reason at all, a video of my friend Dom disco dancing:

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The Undertaker vs Brock Lesnar.

I was in the bathroom and I missed it. ‘Taker won right?

*ducks barrage of thrown items*

Okay, okay. Let’s get to it.

This is one of those moments when Professional Wrestling runs into problems that are unique unto Professional Wrestling. On paper, a 50 year old Undertaker should not be able to beat a 37 year old Brock Lesnar. Even if we take into consideration that it’s pro wrestling and anybody has a shot, just looking at the two would suggest that Bork Laser should be able to snap Undertaker in half and then go get a burrito before the main event happens. As the match progressed, ‘Taker kicked out of two F-5s. When ‘Taker got hit with another, I said, “That’s three F-5’s. That’s an F-15. The Undertaker was officially just hit with a fighter jet.” I got those words out as the ref slapped his arm down for the two and what I thought would be a rather incredulous but not unthinkable or unlikable kick out by the Undertaker. Instead, the ref’s arm struck the mat for a third time, I sat there in disbelief, my friend Miss Heather yelled “YEEEEES!” (she met Lesnar’s family at SummerSlam 2002 and said they were all so very nice and she is a fan of Brock, who she affectionately refers to as, “Big Daddy.”), my buddy Dom, so much happier in the above video, looked on in stunned silence. As far as the choice of ending The Streak goes, I think it was ballsy, gutsy, unexpected, creative, and a little more logical than I care to admit. Look, when The Undertaker debuted so many years ago, he scared the piss out of me. Not that I thought he’d hurt me or drag me under the bed and make bread from my bones, but because you couldn’t hurt him — no one could — and if you can’t hurt him at all, how could my hero, Hulk Hogan, beat him? I was right, and Hogan lost to the Undertaker. Now, it’s so many years later, we all bad-mouthed the streak in our own stupid, logical way of “Well we all know Undertaker is gonna win, blahdy blah,” yet when he did lose… There was a sense of loss. Not just that this guy didn’t win, but our own little bit of order was dashed to bits. The Streak is over, and knee-jerk reaction tells me that even if he beat the living hell out of Lesnar next year, I’d be like, “Ehh, but you didn’t do it when it counted.” And, to go back to the whole “problems unique unto professional wrestling” bit, here’s some more. Listen, NOBODY was gonna be happy with the streak ending. Just looking at the last few opponents, if Shawn Michaels would’ve won in either year people would’ve complained that he was too old, that he wasn’t the H.B.K. of 1995 and therefore not worthy. If Triple H won in either year people would’ve complained that he only won because he’s married to Stephanie McMahon and here’s another example of Hunter putting himself over. If C.M. Punk would’ve won last year, I believe some people would’ve been happy, but C.M. Punk? Listen, I just deleted three sentences that would’ve riled up a buncha people and caused me more grief than I need about my fake fighting TV show, so let’s just say for every fan of Punk that would’ve been happy, my guess is there are just as many out there that would’ve wondered what made him worthy of such an accolade. The Streak, coldly, logically, had to end at some point. If an older guy would’ve done it, they would’ve said, “Well, he didn’t need that. They should’ve let a younger guy do it.” If a younger guy would’ve done it, they would’ve said, “Well, he didn’t deserve that. What’s he done?” And I would’ve agreed with both. The Streak had to end, there was no perfect guy to do it. We have to admit that we didn’t want it to ever end, would’ve been okay with it not ending, but if ‘Taker was gonna fight, we had to assimilate the idea that he could, and probably should, and ultimately did, lose. Past that, looking behind the curtain, The Undertaker signed off on it. In all likelihood Brock would’ve done the job 1-2-3 and been just as happy. Someone brought up the idea of losing — probably ‘Taker himself — and they went with it. I’ve never been the biggest Undertaker fan, but I was never a detractor, and year after year I got caught up in the false finishes and two counts and been happy when ‘Taker won. This year, I wanted a good match because we all knew what the ending was going to be. In the end, we got a match that was okay at best and an ending nobody truly wanted, no matter how tired they were of the one they had seen 21 times before. The Undertaker’s streak has been broken. He lost the match. It feels like we lost much more.

Oh, and it was STILL better than the series finale of How I Met Your Mother.

The 2014 Hall of Fame Class Roll Call.

Happy for Razor and Jake, ambivalent on Lita, Carlos Colon, amused by Mr. T., and as far as The Ultimate Warrior goes, well, let’s just say a picture is worth 1,000 words:

THIS IS FOR WRESTLEMANIA VI YOU RAT FINK!
THIS IS FOR WRESTLEMANIA VI YOU RAT FINK!

A.J. vs Every Diva They Could Possibly Find for the WWE Diva’s Championship.

I don’t like A.J. but she won any damn way. I found the WWE playset commercial with Ricky “The Dragon” Steamboat, Sgt. Slaughter, “The Million Dollar Man” Ted DiBiase, “Dangerous” Danny Davis, “Hacksaw” Jim Duggan and Ron Simmons vastly more entertaining. I don’t mean to diss the divas, and I’m happy their being treated as assets instead of pieces of assets, but I hate A.J. and only want bad things to happen to her character.

WWE World Heavyweight Championship Match: Randy Orton (c) vs Batista vs Daniel Bryan.

I just KNOW I’m gonna get crap for this, but for me, this was my least favorite match on the card. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t without its merits, it just means this was the one I enjoyed the least. I thought all three men performed admirably. Batista did what he could and played his juggernaut role well. Randy Orton worked his ass off in this match doing all the little things Randy Orton does that makes me appreciate him . Daniel Bryan did his plucky underdog thing. The match was overbooked all to hell, which is a pain in the ass on a pay-per-view, but it did something WWE hasn’t done in forever. It finished off a storyline. Man, they even brought back crooked referee Brad Armstrong! This was Return of the Jedi, Daniel Bryan was Luke, The Shield were the rebels on Endor, and we got our mega happy ending. The Authority came out because they had to come out. It would’ve been weird if after all this they didn’t even make a play, so while it did have a bunch of nonsense, all the run ins and junk made sense and cleared the palate. In the end, Daniel Bryan won and the Superdome exploded. I don’t have an emotional investment in Daniel Bryan winning — it was the forgonest of foregone conclusions — but for so many people who followed him in the indys and Ring Of Honor and in his early days of NXT and being The Guy Who Fought Albert Del Rio On Smackdown, this was a great night and a great moment. Those people may now be excused.

Now for the rest of you Yessers, you people who wrung your hands and bitched endlessly about the Royal Rumble, and who needed Daniel Bryan to win because his beard is funny looking and him and Brie Bella are just so dern cute on Total Divas… Now is the time to prove to the cynical side of me that Daniel Bryan is YOUR guy the same way Hulk Hogan, The Rock, and “Stone Cold” Steve Austin are MY guys. Now is the time to buy those tickets, those t-shirts, and support this man now that you’ve gotten your victory thru his attaining of the WWE World Heavyweight Championship. Now is the time to prove that you actually care, and you aren’t just along for the ride because, gosh darnit, it’s fun to “YES!” at stuff. Don’t rock the boat, elevate a man who The Powers That Be didn’t really think could ever be a player, and then leave for the next alt-thing that seems fun and quirky. You do stuff like that, you don’t support the person you chose as The Guy, and you will essentially be dooming us to Batista vs John Cena for the WWE World Heavyweight Championship at SummerSlam, with Randy Orton slithering around beating up on the Cody Rhodeses of the world.

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Overall, a good night, a great night for Suspending Disbelief, for allowing yourself to become immersed in what makes Pro Wrestling so confusing and wonderful. We make fun of it, we call out the stuff we see is coming a mile away, we complain when it happens… and then we are shocked when it doesn’t. We confront our morality, our mortality, and we bask in something that has belonged to us not for a spell, or a season, but for a lifetime. We cheer on our heroes, we cast down our villains, we marvel at the athleticism and idea that this is for us. We win together, we lose together, and we embrace this world of ours.

It doesn’t have to make sense.

It just has to make us feel.

This has been Suspension of Disbelief.

Rey Mundo is hungry, cold, typing this in his underwear, and can be followed on twitter at @ElKatook.