To go along with our “five years since hell froze over” feature, here’s a re-post of my review of The Death Of WCW, originally posted on March 4, 2005.
WCW.
Three little letters that conjure up a mix of memories and feelings. To its (very few remaining) supporters, it is proof that a wrestling promotion that focuses on wrestling and not sports entertainment (imagine that!) can exist and, against all odds, even succeed. To its detractors, it is a shining example of greed and excess in the wrestling industry, and a virtual guide on how not to run a promotion. Whatever side of the fence you’re on, one thing is for sure: the death of WCW was a long, strange, at times sad (in a funny way) and funny (in a sad way) trip. And for those of us who witnessed it Nitro by Nitro, and were left scratching our heads over how a company with the roster it had, backed by Time Warner and Ted Turner, could end up being sold for a song in 2001 … well, RD Reynolds of WrestleCrap and Bryan Alvarez of The Figure Four Weekly have teamed up to explore the life cycle of the only wrestling promotion to ever score a victory over the WWF in their new book, “The Death Of WCW”.
The narrative
Right from the beginning, you know you’re in for it; the dedication is made out ever so lovingly: “To Hunter & Steph”. Subtle. From there, following an introduction from Dave Meltzer (who helped with the factual research for the book; as the authors say several times, keep this in mind for later), the book gets to the meat and potatoes, divided into four sections.
The first section covers “The Birth”, a long, sprawling chapter that covers (briefly) wrestling’s 80’s salad days, and the events that led Jim Crockett Promotions to sell his promotion to Ted Turner, all the way through the end of 1996 and the hard-to-watch Piper/Hogan match that headlined Starrcade ’96. If there is any major gripe with the book, it almost all rests on this chapter: this is a lot of history to cram into one chapter, whether it is the longest one in the book or not, and sometimes, the narrative suffers. Granted, you have to expect that the bulk of the readers are in this to read about the Monday Night Wars period, so there is only so much one can take of the exploits of “Cowboy” Bill Watts and the early days of WCW. But even during these periods, before the arrival of Eric Bischoff and Vince Russo and Hulk Hogan, the company had a history of making stunningly stupid decisions (such as the disappearance of the original Cruiserweight belt, a bizarre moment in WCW that goes unmentioned in this book), all of which were little steps on the way to the big blunders of the late 90’s.
Another issue with the condensing of this period is that it shortchanges the beginning of the Bischoff years, especially the extremely crucial 1996. The point is made (with the numbers to back it up; this isn’t a book based in opinion) that the nWo didn’t turn around business instantly, but it did register an effect in a short period of time. Because of the way the time period is condensed, this important era, when the problems that would end up helping to kill the company really took root, goes under-represented. But I come back to saying that this is probably the only real major gripe. And even then, the chapter is still amazingly detailed and thoroughly entertaining, and the reader does not come away confused or wanting. Just the extreme smarks in the audience will recognize that things feel … condensed.
The second section details “The Rise” of the company, two chapters covering 1997 and 1998, when the company was at it’s peak. Between the humor and the numbers, it paints a vivid picture of just how good the company was doing (and how it could be doing good and bad at the same time), and really evokes in the mind of the reader a sense of déjàvu … I found myself reliving a lot of the moments mentioned with a nostalgic grin. From the build-up to the biggest-selling PPV of WCW’s history, Starrcade ’97 (featuring the Sting-Hogan match that was ruined by Hogan’s politics) to the beginning of the Goldberg era, nothing is missed … and that means the missteps that helped the WWF catch up during this period are given equal time: Dennis Rodman, Karl Malone, Jay Leno and The Warrior and their “contributions” are not forgotten, as the company relied heavily on celebrities and guest stars that bled the company dry of money and credibility. These indulgences, along with the well-documented chronic booking problems, leads the narrative to …
“The Fall” (part 3). Covering 1999 and 2000 in two chapters, this is the lure of the book, what will draw everyone in: a step-by-step, week-by-week diagram of the demise of the once-powerful WCW, not done in by better programming, but by their own hands, through greed, political maneuverings, and general idiocy. If this were a fiction book, it would be torn apart for how many times WCW is kicked when they are down (usually by their own feet), and how many obstacles and stupid mistakes keep getting assigned to them … but, since this is real life, we know better. Tank Abbott & Big Al. Harlem Heat 2000. WarGames 2000. Bash At The Beach 2000. The nWo 2000 (seemingly anything that ended in “2000”). The Radicalz. The “Powers That Be”. David Arquette (like they’d forget that). The rampant backstage fighting, both verbally and physically. Every mistake made during this two-year period is mentioned and dissected. If there’s a mistake left out, I don’t know of one; and if there is, well, dude, there’s only so much space one can dedicate to the mistakes. It almost becomes a running gag in and of itself, except there’s no punchline. There’s just WCW, shooting themselves in the foot until they’re amputated up to the hip. And through it all, a parade of idiots in charge, trying to resuscitate it with quick-fix schemes and wacky booking ideas that only succeeded in driving the company further into the hole then it was before.
Inevitably, leads to the final part (and the epilogue), “The Death”. The final three months of the company’s life under AOL Time Warner, and the disastrous WCW invasion of WWF are the final subject of the book, a depressing epitaph for a company that, for almost two years, stood poised at the top of the mountain, ready to kick its only competitor off the mountain entirely. After you finish this section, you’ll wonder how a company can, in three short years, go from making tens of millions of dollars in profit end up losing more money in one year then in all the previous years combined. If you ever cheered for WCW even once, this will surely depress you … but if you had any interest in the book, you knew the ending going in. Reading this book isn’t about the ending; it’s about the details.
It should be noted that the narrative style itself will echo in a lot of readers minds like that of accomplished writer Mick Foley; his conversational flow to his two best-selling autobiographies is … well, I don’t want to say mimicked, but the style reads a lot like it. And that isn’t a bad thing, sirs and madams.
The Little Things
Brother, does this book deliver on the little things. So many details, in fact, that the narrative is occasionally broken to insert some very short story or fill in some silly detail that helps to illustrate the ludicrousness of the company and its performers. The sheer amount of these little sidebars is enough for a history buff to go nuts with, especially when the nuggets help fill in some blanks (and some of them blanks you didn’t know existed. Did you know Sean Waltman was supposed to have debuted at Hog Wild ’96, but that the WWF kept “misplacing” his release papers?). These nuggets, no doubt, are part of the contribution of Meltzer, who (love him or hate him) is a wrestling encyclopedia … yet, somehow, with such a formidable wealth of knowledge between the two authors and their helper, a few mistakes pop up here and there … such as The Giant being listed as the US Champion, a belt he wouldn’t win for 7 years from the time they attribute it to him. Again, not a big thing, but for the three people involved, you expect those kinds of mistakes wouldn’t have a chance to slide under the radar.
The same goes for some of the alarming omissions in the book, like the nearly year-long build for Glacier that promised “The World [Was] About To Change” … only to get a cheesy Power Ranger-cum-Mortal Kombat ripoff whose first feud was with Big Bubba. Or the embarrassing, degrading stint Booker T did in 2000 as G.I. Bro, which is really bizarre, since they go out of their way to make mention of the several racial discrimination lawsuits that WCW dealt with.
But overall, these minor omissions don’t add up to anything bad; remember, this is WCW we’re talking about here. A company that redefined f*cking up on a nightly basis. Not every mistake need be mentioned. This book has more then enough of them.
The only other real criticism that can be leveled against the book-and this is probably the most important one, in the long run-is that, like Vince Russo’s booking, the book assumes you’re an insider and know all the terminology and many of the backstage events that helped bring down the company. If you don’t know about a lot about the inner workings of the business, let alone some of the history of the company, the book will leave you speechless quicker then seeing Trish naked. But then again, it could be argued that the authors aren’t trying to capture people who don’t give a shit about wrestling; and anyone who is interested (an automatic wrestling fan) was probably a WCW fan, so they probably know at least a smidgen of it anyway, so the “sin” is excusable in the long run.
The Criticisms
If you’ve read any other reviews of this book *coughKellercough*, you’ll have seen some criticisms of this book. The three biggest problems seem to be:
1. The authors spend too much time documenting, week by week, the dumb storylines, and not enough time on the business.
2. The authors assume the InVasion angle would’ve been a guaranteed moneymaker if done right.
3. The authors assume far too often that WCW was salvageable.
It isn’t my job to dispel these beliefs. Keller, and those who feel the same way as he do, have every right to feel this way.
They’re also as dumb as a sack of doorknobs.
Firstly, yes, the book does go into a lot of the dumb storylines. Some of them were painful to watch; you may ask yourself, then, why would you want to read about them? Well, context is the issue here; the authors aren’t writing this as a book of recaps for the sake of recapping. This is about how a company came unglued, and in the big picture, the horrible booking is a big piece of that. From the nonsensical Hogan/Warrior angle (especially the part where Hogan “sees” an illusion of Warrior in the mirror that the audience can also see, but Bischoff can’t) to the Arquette angle to the Fingerpoke Of Doom … yeah, these are stupid. But they also helped drive fans away in droves. And the full damage of their idiocy can’t be fully appreciated without really delving into them.
As far as the InVasion goes, and if bringing in the higher-priced talent goes … that’s pure speculation, both on the part of the authors to assume it would, and Keller for assuming it would fail. Me personally, I believe that yes, if WWF/E had bought out the contracts of Goldberg, Nash, Hogan, Hall, Flair, Sting, etc., that the ratings, buyrates and ticket sales the InVasion would’ve developed would’ve more then compensated for the price of the contracts. Would the locker room situation have been combustible? Probably. But no worse then it ended up becoming, with Austin refusing to put over anyone not named Kurt Angle or The Rock, and the Alliance looking like fools because of it. It’s something that we’ll never know the answer to … but the authors bring in the numbers to back up their arguments, so it’s not like pulling ideas from a vacuum.
And lastly, on the likelihood that WCW could’ve been salvaged … again, we’ll never know. But I do believe, like the authors, that if the booking could be brought back down to earth, and the rampant money-wasting could’ve been brought under control that, yes, the company might have been saved. Did the company die at the hands of who they finger? (I ain’t tell who … that’s their job) No. He didn’t kill the company. The company was dead by the time it crossed this guy’s path. He just pronounced it dead and publicly announced the funeral. By the time Nitro closed up shop, the company was deader then Frank Gotch … no one had the courage to admit it. But the book still provides a compelling argument.
The Final Word
I had high hopes when I got this book, that it would fill in the blanks of the demise of the company that I liked so much. And I wasn’t disappointed. The book promises to examine and answer the questions that surround (and for its fans, haunt them) the death of WCW, and it delivers in spades, with biting commentary and insightful intelligence (and plenty of wiseass humor). Are there errors? Yeah. Omissions? Sure. Nitpickings? Even Orwell wasn’t perfect. But is it a good read? Let me put it this way: the book clocks in at around 330 pages stacked from top to bottom with print. I polished it off in 4 days. Not because it’s a quick read, or because I was reading for 6 hours a day … but because it flows that nicely. Once you get into it, you won’t wanna stop until you’re done, and WCW is dead all over again. There is no bias for or against the company, even though it’s obvious these are two old fans who didn’t want to see it die … this is merely a historical document that portrays the rise and fall of a company that shouldn’t have fallen to begin with. With the epilogue showing the disastrous InVasion angle, and the tongue-in-cheek dedication, one can only assume this book also serves an ulterior motive: a warning to a certain power couple. If you’ve ever watched even 10 minutes of WCW programming, you owe it to yourself, and to WCW, to pay the proper respects, and give this book-this eulogy-a read.
