RIP: Dimebag Darrell. I posted a eulogy of sorts in my blog, but I couldn’t go without at least tipping the hat here.
Last part, still for my special Jericholic.
What if Chris Jericho’s WWF Title victory over Triple H hadn’t been reversed?
Our story continues on Raw, the night after Judgment Day. Chris Jericho is fresh off a grueling but successful WWF World Title defense against Tazz, Kurt Angle and Chris Benoit, while Triple H is coming off his violent Last Man Standing encounter with The Rock, won courtesy of his old D-Generation X friend and WWF Commissioner Shawn Michaels. The respective victories have put the two archenemies on a collision course for King Of The Ring, finally giving Triple H the chance he has demanded for almost two months to prove Jericho’s title victory a fluke. But there are many willing to stand against the McMahon-Helmsley Faction’s campaign to rule the WWF …
May 22nd
Vince McMahon comes to the ring as the announcers discuss the controversial ending of the Last Man Standing match that got Triple H his #1 contender status. The crowd’s hatred of the WWF’s Chairman is almost homicidal, but their chants of “asshole” go unnoticed by Vince.
“Judgment Day is supposed to be a day in which the world as we know it comes to an end,” says Vince, “and certainly, that was the case for a number of WWF superstars last Sunday night. Judgment day is supposed to be a day in which we, as human beings, are judged by the way we live our lives, and either rewarded or punished. Well, based upon the results of Judgment Day, it’s clear to see that we in the McMahon-Helmsley Faction and DX, well, we must be living our lives correctly, because, indeed, we were very justly rewarded. My son-in-law Triple H-and I don’t believe I’ve ever been any more proud of anyone as I was last night in him-single-handedly, one on one, proved why he is The Game. Triple H defeated the Rock, and is thusly on his way to this year’s King Of The Ring on June 25th to finally deliver the punch line on the joke that has been Chris Jericho’s title reign. It’s just too bad that Jericho couldn’t play ball, because he is a good athlete … but it seems every time he has to step up to the plate, he has to rely on outside help. When he”-Vince makes quote marks in the air with his fingers-“‘beat’ Triple H, he needed a crooked referee to do it. When he was faced with defeating not one, not two but three contenders, he had to rely on The Undertaker to cut down the odds. This is the type of champion you people cheer for, when you have a man like Triple H, who has scratched and clawed and fought for your respect day in and day out … he is far and away better championship material then Chris Jericho!” The crowd loudly disagrees, but Vince waves it away, as if the vociferousness of the audience is merely a fly buzzing about. “And as far as the Undertaker is concerned,” he adds, “it’s been really nice around without The Undertaker; he walked out on his contract some time ago, and in fact, if Undertaker shows his face here tonight … well, the Undertaker is not legally under contract, since he walked out. Therefore, I have marshals waiting in the wings to arrest The Undertaker should he show up here tonight.” Another chorus of booing goes ignored. “Now then, as far as The Rock is concerned … I’m not so sure that The Rock will show up here tonight, bruised ego and all. I don’t know if Rock is big enough of a man to be able to swallow his pride and show up a defeated man before you this evening. But should The Rock show up, tonight would be a good night to go one on one: Vince McMahon versus The Rock here in this ring … but that’s not what’s gonna happen. You see, what’s going to happen here tonight, should The Rock show up, is that The Rock will be facing Road Dogg, X-Pac, Shane McMahon and the next WWF Champion Triple H all in one match, four on one. All I can say is that, at Judgment Day, we exacted our will upon the World Wrestling Federation and charted the course for the McMahon-Helmsley’s return to glory. Tonight, we will take that first step.”
As the zero hour approaches for Rock’s doomsday match against four men, he jumps the gun and comes to ring, microphone in hand. “Now The Rock has always said ‘just bring it.’ And last night at Judgment Day, Triple H, you brought it all at the Rock: you brought chairs, tables, old friends-The Rock is surprised you didn’t bring some STD from that two-dollar slut you call a wife! But regardless of what you brought at The Rock, it just didn’t matter, because Triple H, The Rock says this: after all we’ve been through, gallons of blood, the longest 10 seconds in human history, you gave everything you had at The Rock, and The Rock gave it back, but the fact still remains, Triple H, is that although you and The Rock made history last night, and although you walked out of Judgment Day the #1 contender, you never ever beat The Rock.” Rocky pauses, casting sideways glances without moving his head, as the fans begin to chant “Rocky.” “So Triple H, enjoy the victory, enjoy your shot, enjoy it all, because the Rock says this: in due time, the Rock guaran-damn-tees, once again, he will be WWF Champion. Speaking of champions, that brings me to Shawn Michaels. Shawn Michaels, last night, that makes twice you’ve cost The Rock an important match. That’s twice, Heartbreak Kid, and The Rock ain’t gonna let it happen a third time, cause the next time The Rock sees you, The Rock is gonna have a big surprise for you. As for tonight, Vince McMahon, after the Rock went through hell and back last night, you think you’re just gonna finish the Rock off by throwing him into a Handicap match? Four on one? Well, you know what The Rock says. What The Rock always says to jabronis like you: just bring it!” The audience breaks out in yet another chant, which quickly morphs into booing when Triple H comes out, flanked by Stephanie, D-X and Shane McMahon. Triple H raises a single finger, mouthing the words number one.
“You know, Rocky, before I walk down this ramp and kick your ass … let me say a little something here. You know, Rock, yesterday, we went through hell. It was Judgment Day for sure. And you’re right, you gave it all you had, I gave it all I had. And Rock, we did make history! But Rock, yesterday was your Judgment Day, and on your judgment day, you were punished, while I was rewarded. You see, Rock, ’cause when you finally fell to the ground, and Shawn counted to 10, I felt it all slide outta ya. Because, Rock, you were the Great One. But as great as you were, when it came right down to it at the end, I could feel it all come outta ya, Rock. At the end, you couldn’t hang with me. There’s no shame in that, Rock; ’cause I’m the best there is! But Rock … you can say all you want that I never beat you. But the fact of the matter is that there are two men standing here tonight, looking each other dead in the eye. One is in that ring, and he’s a loser. The other is on this ramp, and he is a winner. The fact of the matter is, Rock, when it was, as you say, all said and done, and all the smoke had cleared, I was the number one contender! Because I am The Game! And like I have always said, because I am that damn good!”
Rocky glares back; he puts up a hand, inviting Triple H and his cronies to come on down, punctuating it with; “Just bring it!”
Triple H drops the mike walks down to the ring, his cronies right behind him. Rocky casually tosses his sunglasses aside and gets down in a crouch. Triple H leads his soldiers to the end of the ramp, then fan out around the ring, encircling The Rock. Rocky turns rapidly, trying to keep an eye on his attackers, but the numbers game quickly does him in. Triple H sits back, letting Road Dogg, X-Pac and Shane McMahon do all the work until Chris Jericho and Tazz come flying from the back and sliding into the ring. The two manage to send X-Pac and Road Dogg flying. But without The Rock to help fight, the numbers slowly assert themselves.
Suddenly, the lights die, and the picture on the TitanTron switches to a video package of two very creepy little girls, droning out a twisted prayer: “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray my soul is thine to keep, and never step outside this bed, now look into all the evil … now back from the dead. He’s here…” The screen flashes and five massive words burn bright on the screen: “His Judgment Day is now“, and The Undertaker, riding his motorcycle, rumbles into the arena and down the ramp. He drives it down to the end of the ramp, parking it sideways, blocking escape, and steps off. Shane commands X-Pac and Road Dogg to try a two-on-one attack, but Undertaker shrugs them off as easily as fruit flies. Undertaker remounts his bike and guns the motor, staring down Shane like an assassin over the barrel of a gun. Shane breaks out into a mad scramble, running around the ring as Undertaker gives chase, leaving Triple H alone. The Rock, Tazz and Jericho all get to their feet and circle around Triple H, blocking his escape. Triple H tries to dive for an open side, but Tazz dives on him, grabbing him by the feet. Jericho and Rock help drag Triple H back to the middle of the ring, where the three put the boots to him and take turns unleashing finishing maneuvers. Raw ends with Vince and Shawn Michaels watching helplessly from the ramp as Rock and Tazz taunt Triple H while Jericho holds him in the Walls Of Jericho, wrenching back as hard as he can, smiling like a Cheshire cat as Triple H’s screams fill the arena.
May 25th
Shawn Michaels struts to the ring to start Smackdown amid a sea of negativity, grinning the whole way. He lets the boos drift off into silence before addressing the crowd. “Back on Monday Night Raw, I had to sit back and watch my best friend get the crap kicked out of him by some orange-skinned midget, a punk with a fascination for sticking things up people’s … backsides …” The crowd re-voices their hatred of the corrupt commissioner. “Yeah, keep booing, and I may just put Patterson and Brisco in a bra and panties match to shut you up. Yeah, I thought so. Now, as I was saying, Triple H got ambushed by two losers and some guy who’s based his whole career on copying the Heartbreak Kid.” Shawn Michaels looks dead in the camera, eyes as cold as ice. “Chris Jericho; you will never be a showstopper … you will never be an icon … and you sure as hell aren’t main event, kid. You’re a fluke, a one-shot, an also-ran. People will always look at you and say, ‘good kid, but he ain’t no Shawn Michaels’.” Shawn backs away and starts pacing the ring. “Now, I’ll get to those two wanna-bes in a minute … but first, I got a beef with The Undertaker. Undertaker, you’ve been gone for months. You picked up your ball and went home when things weren’t going your way. And now you think you can come back here and everything will be just as it was? You think we’re all just gonna bow to your will? I got news for you, buddy boy … I was the big dog who kicked your ass all over the arena last time we went toe-to-toe, and don’t think I won’t do it again!”
The Rock’s music cues up right as the last syllable falls from Shawn’s lips. The Rock comes out, dressed in his usual snappy shirt, gold chains and sunglasses. The crowd chants his name just before he moves to speak, and he has to delay, basking in the glow of the adoration. “The Rock’s gonna cut to the chase,” he says. “The Rock ain’t gonna mince words, because this is The Rock’s show, always has been, always will be. Now, The Rock and The Undertaker, we’re not bosom buddies … we’re not drinkin’ buddies. We’re not even on speaking terms. But the one thing I do about The Undertaker is that he is no quitter. The Undertaker doesn’t drop the ball … not unlike you …” The Rock turns around and looks at the TitanTron, and a video roll starts playing: a flashback to the night after WrestleMania 14, with Triple H condemning Shawn Michaels for failing D-Generation X; Shawn accidentally costing Undertaker the World Title at SummerSlam ’97; Shawn not protecting Shane McMahon from Mick Foley; Shawn being stripped of the Intercontinental Title for his failure to defend it. “It looks to The Rock like Shawn Michaels has a history of dropping the ball. The Rock would guess you’re probably safe playing with Triple H’s balls, but we all know Stephanie has those locked up in a jar somewhere!” The crowd roars in response; Shawn, of course, doesn’t see the humor.
“Now you just wait-“
“The Rock says you need to know your role, shut your mouth, and most of all … get ready. Get ready, because The Rock said the next time he saw you, he had a surprise in store. A gift, in fact! You see, The Rock remembers, Shawn Michaels … The Rock remembers how you attacked The Rock on the very first Smackdown, and how you did it again at Judgment Day. And The Rock figures that you must hate The Rock so much because The Rock is everything you never were: handsome, intelligent, in possession of millions …” The crowd inserts their own “millions”, and The Rock picks right back up; “and millions of fans … it’s sad to see how better a legend like you has become, Shawn Michaels. That’s why The Rock spoke with Linda McMahon, and with Chris Jericho, and Tazz and just about every-damn-body back there, and we all agree on one thing: you’re fired!”
Shawn tries to voice protest, but a taped message from Linda cues up on the screen. “By now, Shawn, I’m sure The Rock has told you that the World Wrestling Federation will no longer be needing you to act as Commissioner. As of this moment, you are removed from the position, and will be replaced … by this man …”
All eyes turn to the entrance, and all voices rise in screams when the sounds of squealing tires and crunchy guitars come over the PA. Mick Foley walks out, arm raised in triumph. Foley pulls a mike out from his shirt, waves at the crowd, then at Shawn (whose face is frozen into a scowl). “Long time no see!” Mick says, and the crowd erupts again. Mick shakes Rock’s hand, then starts walking down the ramp. “First off, let me say to you, Shawn Michaels, that I don’t mean you no disrespect; there was a time when I hated The Rock. But I couldn’t stay mad at that eyebrow!” Mick grins, but the humor is lost on Shawn. Mick slides in the ring and offers a hand. Shawn looks down on it with disgust, and Mick retracts it without missing a beat. “But something’s happened to you, Shawn … you’ve been corrupted, and the WWF can’t afford to have a corruption in such an important role. That’s why I’ve been hired to replace you, and end the corruption that has ruined this company. Now, there’s two issues left over from your administration I gotta deal with: The Undertaker, and the World Title match at King Of The Ring. As far as The Undertaker goes, him and I, well … everybody knows him and I have had our differences. But that don’t mean I don’t respect the hell out of him. So, effective immediately, I am reinstating his contract!” Shawn’s defiance of the decision borders on a tantrum as he stomps and flails his arms. “Let’s move on, shall we?” he says. “Now, I can’t go and change what’s already happened, so Triple H will still be getting his World Title shot against Chris Jericho at King Of The Ring. But, as a token of respect to you, Shawn Michaels … to your legacy and how you became the icon you are … Triple H and Chris Jericho will fight in a 60-minute Iron Man match!”
May 29th-Jun 22nd
Mick Foley’s installment as Commissioner, and his subsequent reinstating of The Undertaker and booking of the Iron Man match, set him at odds with the entire McMahon-Helmsley Faction. But by the May 29th episode of Raw, the Faction regains their bearings, and begins to deal with their issues.
The first issue is neutralizing The Rock and The Undertaker, and to this, Vince uses both his power as Chairman, and his connections to put them both through the paces. During an Intercontinental Title match with Chris Benoit, D-X takes out the referee; Vince sends out the replacement, his son, Shane, who fast-counts Undertaker to a loss. The attack of a WWF “official” nets him a one-show suspension and, when he attacks Shane on the way out of the building, he is arrested.
But the same trick doesn’t work on The Rock, who recognizes the trap when they try and spring it on him (right down to Shane being the replacement), and heads for higher ground. Unfortunately, it only earns him a reprieve from a suspension; instead, he gets an outright beating. This leads to The Rock demanding Shane McMahon for a match on Smackdown; Vince uses his corporate connections to keep Mick Foley from getting to the arena in time to counter his ruling of making Triple H the referee, and The Rock not only suffers a beating, but the humiliation of being pinned by the boss’s son.
Chris Jericho, however, goes untouched by all members of the McMahon-Helmsley Faction. In fact, Triple H assigns D-X to follow him and sit ringside during his matches, with instructions to interfere should anything untoward happen to the World Champion. Jericho takes exception to this, and during a World Title defense on the June 1st Smackdown, attacks Road Dogg for his “helping out”. Road Dogg abstains from fighting back, which only serves to irritate Jericho further. What he misses while occupied would only make him madder, namely Triple H hitting his opponent with a Pedigree so Jericho can make an easy pin.
And, as the weeks roll on towards King Of The Ring, the McMahon-Helmsley Faction’s plan comes together with nary a misstep. Triple H’s protection of Chris Jericho continues with every match, the motive plainly obvious: keeping Jericho champion means Triple H gets revenge at the pay-per-view. And despite Mick Foley’s best efforts to keep the peace, the Faction manage to keep The Rock and The Undertaker at arm’s length and, more importantly, under their thumbs, with numerous beat-downs and ambushes.
But, as King Of The Ring looms, the house of cards starts to fall around the Faction as their targets get wise. Jericho, Rocky and The Undertaker all implore Mick Foley to take action, and, being the judicious and fair Commissioner he is, Foley takes action that levels the playing field: Triple H is booked in a “warm-up” for the Iron Man match on the final Raw before the PPV, a 30-minute “trial run” match against Kane, which draws a tremendous amount of protest that falls on deaf ears. And, with a grin a mile wide, Mick keeps things equal by booking Jericho (against the vehement protests of Vince) in a 30-minute match of his own on the final Smackdown, against Shane McMahon. Triple H has to endure both the strength of Kane and the presence of The Undertaker lurking outside the ring to keep Faction members at bay, but manages to get the victory at the end with a handful of tights. Jericho, however, isn’t so lucky to have protection; Vince turns the match into a prolonged gang assault on Jericho, with everyone up to and including himself taking turns making Jericho suffer in the waning moments of Smackdown.
But the beating is interrupted by the arrival of Foley on the stage. “That’s it, Vince!” he yells, his voice on the verge of breaking. “I’ve had it with your crap! You and Triple H and your family think you are the be-all end-all of this business? You think you can waltz in here and alter the course of the company to your will? I got news for you, Vince, I’m the Commissioner around here, and you know what that means? I got the power to make anyone I want do anything I want … and that includes you!” Vince shakes his head, but Mick shakes it back. “I guess you forgot what you told Shawn Michaels when you hired him as the Commissioner: you said the Commissioner’s jurisdiction extended over all active WWF superstars, with the exception of Steve Austin. And when you entered the Royal Rumble last year, you became an active superstar, Vince. So, since you’re so damned insistent on sticking your nose in the business of others, Vince, you better clear your calendar for Sunday, cause you and your idiot son Shane are gonna be in a tag team match against The Undertaker and The Rock!” Vince gulps, shaking his head again, but now with panic writ across his face. “Oh, yes, Vince. And, since I can’t trust you or your lackeys to mind their own business, I’m appointing a special referee for the Iron Man match on Sunday: me!”
June 25th: King Of The Ring
Vince and Shane take their time getting to the ring, walking like two men being led to their execution. Shane tries to fake some bravado, but it looks so obviously forced, and Vince doesn’t buy into Shane’s pep talk. When The Undertaker’s music starts, and the rumbling of his motorcycle come echoing through the arena, even Shane’s fake bravado bleeds out of him. The Undertaker parks his bike across the aisle and waits for The Rock to enter; all the while, Shane and Vince discuss strategy, trying to ignore the crazy cheering for The People’s Champion.
Undertaker and Rocky slide into the ring, and Vince and Shane pounce, trying to catch the early advantage. Undertaker shoves Shane away like a child, while Rock does much the same for Vince, and both make it to their feet in time to catch the McMahons’ next offensive charge; Shane ends up eating a boot, while Vince catches an elbow in the mush, and both roll out to the safety of the floor to strategize again. After some consulting, Shane slides into the ring cautiously, only to get stuck with The Undertaker. UT pounds on Shane to start, sending him sprawling into the turnbuckle. ‘Taker unloads with boxer-like shots to the torso and head. A Snake Eyes leads to an attempt at a chokeslam, but Shane counters with a low blow that drops the ‘Taker to one knee. Shane stumbles back into his own corner and gets the tag, just in time to see Rock tag himself in. Rock blocks Vince’s punches and hits a few of his own, followed by a DDT which almost gets a three-count before Shane makes the diving save. The ref starts barking at Shane to leave but Shane yells back at him, enough so that his face goes slack and white. Shane leaves voluntarily, dropping down to the apron as Rock whips Vince into the corner and almost rips his head off with a clothesline that gets two. Shane suddenly slides back in, armed with a chair and whales Rock across the back. UT yells at the ref (“Do your f*cking job!”), but the ref, obviously with great reluctance, doesn’t signal for the DQ. Vince crawls over to his corner and gets the tag, and Shane starts hopping about like Muhammed Ali, hitting quick jabs with a lot of footwork before finally taking Rock down with a right cross. A stomp in the groin gets two, which Shane protests about. Vince removes the turnbuckle padding from their corner, and Shane whips him into it, then slams Rock’s head into it, but that only gets two. Shane positions the chair and hits a DDT on it, but the count is interrupted at 2 and a half by Undertaker. Shane moves Rock to the center of the ring and kicks his arm on his chest; the crowd immediately goes into hysterics at the sight of Shane McMahon doing the People’s Elbow. Shane pretends to remove an elbowpad, but instead flips off the crowd, then starts the run across the ring. But as he comes off the ropes for the second time, Rock springs up and hits a surprise Rock Bottom, then collapses. The ref starts his 10-count, getting to 7 before Shane makes a tag. Rock makes the dive and gets the tag at 8, and Vince freezes like a deer in headlights. Undertaker slowly advances, backing Vince into his own corner. Vince panics and tags Shane back in; Shane looks at his father, shocked (and exhausted), but Vince orders him back in. When Shane refuses, Undertaker approaches, grabs both McMahons by their heads and slams them together. Shane tumbles down to the mat, and Undertaker gives chase, beating up Shane with wicked punches and kicks on the outside. Vince backs away, unaware that The Rock has re-entered the ring until Vince backs into him. Vince turns around, eyes closed; Rock waits until Vince’s eyes open and registers who he’s run into before unloading with right hands. Rock grabs the chair while Vince is down, crouches and waits for Vince to get back up; Vince barely has enough time to realize what’s going on before Rock brings down the chair like an executioner swinging an axe, clocking Vince smack-dab in the forehead, splitting him open. Outside, Shane manages to get a low blow on The Undertaker to stop the onslaught and slams him into the ring post. Shane looks inside and sees Rocky dragging Vince into position for the People’s Elbow and waits until The Rock runs towards his side of the ring; Shane pulls down the ropes, and Rock crashes to the arena floor. Shane dashes back in and arms himself with the chair, waiting for either opponent. Undertaker gets in first, and Shane swings for the fences, connecting and sending the Undertaker to the mat. But no sooner is he on the ground then he’s moving again, and Shane panics. A shot across the back stills The Undertaker for a handful of seconds, but not enough for an advantage. Shane climbs the nearest turnbuckle, still armed with the chair and waits for The Undertaker to get to his feet. He never has a chance to notice Rock get to his feet, climb up on the apron, and pull one of his feet out from underneath. The chair falls harmlessly to the floor, and Shane falls (with harm) on the ringbolt crotch-first. The Undertaker comes over and tags, then grabs Shane by the throat. Shane’s eyes go wide with horror as Undertaker climbs over the ropes; Undertaker leaps, bringing Shane with him, driving him through the Spanish announce table with a chokeslam that electrifies the crowd. As Shane is driven through the table, Vince finally gets to his feet in time to eat another Rock Bottom, and the referee is all too happy to count to three and award the match to The Rock and The Undertaker.
Mick Foley is the first to the ring for the Iron Man match, and is received warmly by the crowd. Triple H’s reception, however, is hostile (almost riotous), and he views his old nemesis with a very skeptical eye. Foley stands in the center of the ring to allow Jericho the space to enter the ring safely, which he does to a great ovation. Foley brings the two to the center of the ring and goes over the rules before ringing the bell to start the match.
The two walk to the middle of the ring, boring holes into one another with their eyes. Jericho’s expression is stoic, one of quiet but resolved determination; Triple H’s, however, is of wild-eyed hatred and fury. Finally, the two go for a collar-and-elbow tie-up. Triple H shoves Jericho, and he goes tumbling back. Jericho pauses before getting up, looking at Triple H, then rushes in and locks up again. The tie-up turns into a rear waist-lock by Triple H, reversed and reversed again. Jericho uses his legs to turn the lock into a drop toe-hold and floats over into a headlock. Triple H tries to reverse it into a pin, but barely gets one. Triple H muscles out instead, wrapping his arms around Jericho and going for a high-angle back body drop; Jericho flips backward and lands on his feet, grabs a handful of hair and hits a bulldog. Jericho runs and jumps off the ropes, hitting a picture-perfect Lionsault, and makes the cover; Foley counts and gets a shocking three, putting Jericho up 1-0 after 8 minutes.
Jericho tries to get a second pinfall out of it, but Triple H shoves him off, and they end up brawling. Jericho eats a knee in the gut, and Triple H tries to whip him into the corner, but Jericho reverses, sending Triple H flying over the turnbuckle and onto the apron. Jericho runs to the turnbuckle, springboards off it and goes for a springboard dropkick, only for Triple H to duck; Jericho sails overhead and crashes on the arena floor. Foley starts the count as Triple H drops down and whips Jericho into the steel steps. Triple H rolls in at 7, leaving Jericho slumped against the steps when Foley gets to ten, tying the score at 1-1. Triple H tosses Jericho back in, hits an academic Pedigree and makes the cover, upping the score to 2-1 at 12 minutes.
Triple H whips Jericho into the corner; thinking he is following, Jericho jumps for a leapfrog, only to come down safely with no one in front of him. Triple H clips his knee, and Jericho crumples. Repeated shinbreakers set up further abuse on Jericho’s leg; stomping of the thigh, grapevines and using the ropes as leverage to which Triple H can bring his weight down upon the hamstring. Triple H puts on a vicious figure-four, cranking down for all it’s worth; he gets a few two-counts when Jericho lays back, but Jericho refuses to tap or stay down for three. After a struggle to reach the ropes proves fruitless, Jericho tries to reverse the hold, but Triple H pulls them back and grabs onto the ropes to balance himself. Foley kicks Triple H’s hands off the ropes, and, when Triple H grabs for them again, Foley kicks his hands away again. Triple H releases the hold and gets to his feet, barking at Foley. Foley screams back at him, pointing to his homemade referee shirt to remind Triple H who the official is; Triple H spits in Foley’s face, prompting Foley to shove Triple H. Triple H shoves back, putting Foley on his ass. Foley gives the signal to the timekeeper, who rings the bell and awards a DQ victory for Chris Jericho, bringing the score up to 2-2 with 20 minutes down. Triple H’s eyes go wide as he realizes what’s happened, and he starts to stalk Foley; Foley reminds him again who the authority figure is, and serves him a warning the cameras and front rows can hear (“How’s one DQ for every punch you throw sound, Hunter?”). Hunter steams and fumes, but realizes the hole he is digging himself into and is all prepared to turn away when Jericho reaches him and rolls him up. Foley makes the count, and just like that, the score is now 3-2 in Jericho’s favor.
Triple H is up like lightning, kicking and stomping away at Jericho on the ground. Somehow, Jericho gets to his feet, but is still absorbing blows; Triple H whips Jericho, but his knee buckles and Jericho falls to the mat. Triple H pulls Jericho out and uses the guard rail in place of his own knee to hit another shinbreaker. Triple H pulls the padding off the floor and rams Jericho’s knee into the concrete, rolls in to break the count, and rolls back out to continue the abuse. He tossed Jericho back in and puts on the figure-four. Jericho screams and writhes, holding on for an eternity, but in the end, cannot fight the pain and taps out, bringing the score back up to a tie at 3 with 25 minutes gone.
Jericho rolls out to recover, but Triple H follows and they brawl up the aisle and back again. Triple H drags Jericho over to the exposed concrete and sets up the Pedigree, but Jericho hits a low blow to put it to a stop; he sweeps Triple H’s legs out from underneath him and slingshots him away, right into the ring post. Both men writhe on the arena floor, exhausted and beaten, Triple H now bleeding from the impact with the post. Both men crawl in and brawl again, trading chops and punches, but Triple H kicks Jericho’s leg to gain the advantage, and whips him. Jericho runs right into a sleeper; he fights and tries to twist out of it, but Triple H moves with Jericho and keeps them positioned in the center of the ring. Eventually, both fall to the mat, and when the hand goes down for the third time, Foley calls for the bell, giving Triple H the lead again, 4-3 with 36 minutes down. Thinking quickly, Triple H makes the cover on the unconscious Jericho and scores an extra pinfall, increasing his lead to 5-3.
A second pinfall attempt, however, gets only two. Triple H goes up top and dives, meaning to drive the elbow into Jericho’s heart. Jericho rolls out of the way and Triple H crashes into the mat. Jericho scrambles, pushing Triple H onto his stomach and pulls back on the arm in a Fujiwara armbar. Triple H gets a foot on the ropes to break the hold, but Jericho goes right after it with elbows and more armbars. Jericho tears the covering off of one of the turnbuckles and slams Triple H’s arm into it. When he does it again, Foley pulls Jericho off (much to the disdain of the crowd) and warns him against further activities that skirt the borders of what is allowable and what isn’t. While they are conversing, Triple H slides out of the ring, grabs a chair and comes back in. he winds up and blasts Jericho across the back. Foley immediately signals for the DQ, bringing the score up to 5-4, but Triple H makes a cover and Foley, reluctantly, makes the three-count, bringing it up to 6-4 at 42 minutes.
Triple H tries the sleeper again, only this time, Jericho pushes backwards, and the two collide with the exposed turnbuckle. Once more is enough to loosen Triple H’s grip, and Jericho to the side to wrap his arms around Triple H’s waist for a back body drop that sends Triple H up and over the top rope. Triple H manages to get to his feet at 6, but Jericho hits a baseball slide that sends Triple H sprawling backwards, landing on the announce table. Jericho steps out onto the apron, springboards off the second rope, and hits a Lionsault across the gap, landing on Triple H and breaking the table. Jericho struggles and claws his way back into the ring at 9, leaving Triple H bleeding and unconscious at the feet of Jim Ross and Jerry Lawler for Foley to count to 10, making the score 6-5 at the 46 minute mark.
With neither the clock nor the score on his side, Jericho drags Triple H into the ring, depositing him dead center. Jericho sprints and goes for another Lionsault, but Triple H instinctually brings up his knees. Triple H rolls over and drapes an arm across Jericho, but it only gets two. Two repeated attempts at pinfalls only net two-counts, and Triple H vents his frustration by pounding the mat. He struggles but gets to his feet, dragging Jericho up and hitting him with a string of high impact maneuvers: a backbreaker, a delayed vertical suplex and a piledriver are all delivered with crisp effectiveness, but Jericho kicks out of each one, as fresh as a daisy. Once again, he argues with Foley, but holds back when Foley reminds him of the penalty for striking him again. Triple H returns his attention to Jericho, kicking him in the gut and putting him in position for a Pedigree. Jericho fights it, kicks Triple H in the gut and hits a Pedigree of his own, sending the crowd into overdrive. Jericho gets an arm over Triple H’s chest and, to the amazement of everyone, Foley counts to three, and the score is tied at 6, with 6 minutes to go.
The reversal of fortune brings out Shawn Michaels, who jumps up on the apron. Foley approaches and the two argue. Jericho gets up first and, seeing that Foley is distracted, grabs the chair and waits for Triple H to get up. When he does, he swings, but Triple H ducks, and Foley takes all of it (the impact sending Shawn into the ground). Jericho swings again, hitting Triple H in the head, leaving him on the mat, unconscious and bleeding, then slides out of the ring to go after Shawn. Shawn starts scooting back, begging for Jericho to show mercy. Neither see Foley struggle to his feet and see Jericho holding the chair; he turns and signals the timekeeper. The ringing of the bell draws all their attention, and the announcer confirms Jericho’s fears: he’s now down 7-6, and the clock has 2 minutes left.
Jericho runs back into the ring and grabs Triple H’s legs, trying to turn him over into the Walls Of Jericho. Triple H tries to fight by contorting in the opposite direction, but eventually Jericho gets the step-over and rears back as far as he can. Triple H tries to scramble for the ropes, but Jericho pulls him back to the middle of the ring, putting his knee at the base of Triple H’s neck for added pressure. Triple H screams in pain, shaking his head that he doesn’t want to quit, but his hand hovers in the air. Foley looks back from the timekeeper to Triple H, who is perilously close to tapping. The seconds tick off on the TitanTron, and the crowd starts to count along with the clock as it ticks down from the 10-second mark. Foley keeps checking … the timekeeper … Triple H … the timekeeper … Triple H.
As the crowd screams out “ONE!“, Foley gets to his feet. By the time he turns to the timekeeper to signal for the bell to end the match once and for all, the timer has elapsed to zero … with Triple H tapping furiously and screaming that he quits. Jericho drops the hold and collapses against the ropes, until the announcer’s proclamation of a new WWF Champion perks him back up. Jericho argues with Foley that Triple H was tapping with one second left to go, but Foley shakes his head and awards (reluctantly) the title to Triple H. The crowd turns into a sea of negativity, booing and calling for Mick Foley’s head. Vince, Stephanie and company join Triple H in the ring and lift him on their shoulders (Vince grabs the hand of Foley and shakes it, pronouncing it a job well done, although Foley’s expression broadcasts a feeling totally different from pride).
Epilogue: June 26th, Monday Night Raw
In a pre-taped segment on Raw the next night, Jim Ross interviews Mick Foley. Foley squirms in his chair and fidgets continuously.
“Last night,” Jim Ross says, “at King Of The Ring, you called for the bell while there was still time on the clock. The official readout, per the timekeeper, was just under a second. Why?”
“Ya know, Jim,” Foley says, “I didn’t want my administration to start out like this. I have nothing against Chris Jericho, or The Rock, or anybody else. I was brought in by Linda McMahon because she saw corruption in the office of the Commissioner, and she wanted someone fair and impartial.”
“Which makes it things all the more, if you’ll pardon the term, screwy, that you’d make a call that would seem favorable for Triple H, the man who retired you. Why did you do what you did?”
“In all honesty, Jim, I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong. Triple H had had his hand in the air for some time, and it looked like he was going to be able to hold on until time lapsed. When the clock hit the one-second mark, I figured by the time I got up and turned around, time would elapse and Triple H would still have held on, thus making him the new champion.”
“I have a video package I’d like to show you,” JR says, motioning to a monitor in between the two men on a table. JR talks as the tape rolls; “You’ll notice we have the timer running in the bottom corner, counting down during the final seconds.” JR lets the tape speak for itself; the timer hits :01, Foley jumps up, and Triple H’s hand hits the mat. Another replay, in slow motion, shows a close-up along with the clock in the corner, confirming that Triple H tapped out before time expired. “What are your feelings, having seen the video tape?”
“Well, I feel like a fool, Jim Ross. What do you expect me to say? I mean, had I seen that, the match would’ve ended in a draw, and Chris Jericho would still be champion. Of course, if he hadn’t resorted to using a chair in the first place, he wouldn’t have fallen a point behind anyway. I do deeply regret getting up prematurely. But a referee’s final decision stands. Just like Earl Hebner’s decision in April made Chris Jericho a champion, my decision took it away. I can’t go setting precedents of allowing instant replay or further review just because a decision is unfair or unpopular.”
“So, if you’re not prepared to reverse the decision, what can the fans, and more importantly, what can Chris Jericho expect in terms of rectifying the situation?”
“Well, Chris Jericho does have the champion’s right of a rematch. Unfortunately, it was already decided that The Rock would challenge the World Champion on Raw tonight. Of course, Chris Jericho can challenge whoever is the winner of that match whenever he chooses. All he has to do is let me know, and I promise I’ll make get him a referee better then me.”
With Mick Foley not in the building, Vince takes over Raw and orders the World Title match be a steel cage match. Triple H enters the cage first and patiently awaits The Rock’s arrival, which sends the crowd into a frenzy. But the fury comes to a screeching halt when Shane, Road Dogg and X-Pac all assault Rock on the way down the ramp. Triple H watches from the safety of the enclosed ring as Road Dogg, X-Pac and Shane McMahon take turns abusing Rocky, pounding on him, kicking him and ramming him head-first into the cage. After he’s been left bloodied and barely able to stand, they toss him into the cage and walk away. Triple H starts to saunter over to the door, smiling and waving to his allies as they walk up the ramp. The referee opens the door as Triple H steps through the ropes …
… and freezes when he sees Chris Jericho, armed with a chair, come through the crowd and leap over the guard rail. He has just enough time to yell for his cohorts to come back before Jericho grabs the door and slams it shut on Triple H’s head. Shane, Road Dogg and X-Pac all come back, but Jericho blasts each one in succession with his chair, then steps into the cage. Jericho picks up Triple H and whips him into the ropes, then picks up his chair again and swings as Triple H runs towards him, denting the seat of the chair on Triple H’s already busted-open skull. Jericho drops the chair, leaving Triple H on the mat in a rapidly growing pool of his own blood, to attend to The Rock, who has pulled himself up in one of the corners, but is dazed. Rocky looks at him, confused; Jericho offers him a hand and points up with the other one. Rock’s eyes go wide with understanding. Before Rock can pull away, Jericho squeezes his hand tighter and pulls him close, mouthing three easy-to-read words: You owe me. Rock raises an eyebrow … and nods. He turns and starts climbing the cage, leaving Jericho alone with Triple H, who is slowly coming to. Jericho picks him up and drops him on the chair with a DDT as Rock’s feet hit the floor. The bell rings, sending the already wild crowd into a state of near-civil unrest. Jericho grabs Triple H by the blood-soaked hair and holds his head up, looking directly at the referee presenting Rock with the belt he had won only 24 hours earlier. The horror of it all-of his title reign ending so soon, of Jericho being more devious, cunning and dangerous then he anticipated-dawns on him, and is solidified as Jericho leans in and speaks in his ear in a flat, lethally cold monotone; “Triple H, from now on, I swear that everything you work for, I will ruin. Every dream you have, I’ll turn into a nightmare. Everything you have, I’m going to take away.”
The End
Before I start pimping, I got some business to take care of, don’t I?
With the holidays coming up, and an overdue vacation in my personal life looming large, and the big InVasion project looming large in January, I figured this would be a good time to take a vacation. I will have something to post in two weeks, fear not … Christmas Eve, there will be something, although I’m writing it ahead of time. After that, I’m gonna take a few weeks off to A>Enjoy my vacation, and B>Get a running start on the InVasion. I’m looking at posting either the 14th or the 21st of January. So, hopefully, you’ll all understand and stick around in the interim. As usual, I’ll make my guest appearances wherever I can … if a Rocktable comes, or if Widro summons me to the Hot Seat, and PPV Roundtables, of course, so you won’t be totally without me. Plus, I’m utilizing my blog to answer some of the few autobiographical questions I summoned from you fans a while back. I didn’t get enough to make a column, so I’ll do them blog style, whenever I feel … perhaps a few during the vacation.
Anyway, now that that’s all done …
Bonto and Gohan, as always, for consultation and/or general and continued support.
Kurtis now gets a separate pimp. Why? Because he’s now all over the newsboard!
Gordi may be late for Wrestling Appreciation Month, but we all need to be reminded of the positive in this business.
Goforth looks at all the young bucks. I can’t agree on Batista (I think Batista is a load … punch, kick, CLOTHESLINE OF DECAPITATION, and GENERIC BIG MAN POWERBOMB FINISHER … that’s all he is, all he ever will be), and I think Edge still has a shot to become a “bride”, but other then that, spot-on correct, sir.
D’Errico showed some love for Pearl Jam, which, 12 years removed the grunge fad, is pretty brave. Easily one of my all-time favorite bands, and a band that has put out consistently great albums. Even their worst (for me, it’s Vs.) is still a *** affair.
Watch me debate Slayer, aka David Goldberg! See! … Jed dare to trash hockey while living in Michigan! See! … Jed take the NBA to task! See! … Jed make an ass out of himself with the whole Notre Dame/Florida thing. I think he won, but it was damned fun.
My man J Kern has your Dollar Movie Review; he managed to get through Resident Evil: Apocalypse without throwing up, and he did it for you!
And, as always, many good things can be found in our Games, Figures, and Comics zones.
So, one more column for the year, and it’s a very special edition … if you remember the last time I used that phrase, you know what’s coming. That’s right …
Something Completely Stupid Returns!!!
I know you’re so excited. I can hear the crickets chirping from here.
And, sometime early next week, a very special non-RTB entry by your’s truly. I’ll be at the Sabu benefit show this Sunday, and posting a fan recap come Monday or Tuesday.
So, excluding that, I guess I’ll see you all in two weeks.
Oh … wait. I forgot something.
The winner of the first-ever Re-Writing The Book Fan Election is! …
A THREE-WAY WAR BETWEEN WWF, WCW AND ECW!!!
No complaints; the vote was unmistakable. 3-14-8 was the final tally. The people have spoken, and starting in January, the mega-epic to end all epics of alternate wrestling history will begin. Outlines are already been poured over by myself and the ever-trustworthy RTB-3. Keep in mind that, due to the sheer size of the story, and the fact that the number of characters involved will be an amazing amount (50 or more, early estimates say), the story will take the form of a more of a general overview of events. I won’t leave out details, and I wouldn’t dare scrimp you of the story you deserve; but there won’t be move-by-move match accounts, for the most part, and not too many promos. All injuries and real-life absences will be adhered to, so Benoit and Triple H will still go out on injury. The only thing that will be nullified is the whole DDP/Undertaker stalker storyline. That’s getting the boot faster then the WWE’s women’s division. Everything else … well, it’s all up for grabs. And it all begins in January.
