THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Saturday, November 25, 1995 TAG: 9511250238
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY EARL SWIFT, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 137 lines
It started last month at ``Halloween Havoc.''
Hulk Hogan, World Heavyweight Champion, was varnishing The Giant in layers of hurt. He had locked his oversized opponent in ligament-snapping holds. He had flung him around the ring like a doll baby. The big man's will was crumbling. The pro-Hulkster crowd smelled victory.
Until the unexpected happened, as it so often does in World Championship Wrestling.
Just when it seemed Hogan would drop The Giant like a bad transmission, Hogan's own manager, Jimmy Hart, slunk into the ring.
In his hands he held the WCW World Heavyweight Champion belt, an accessory of size and weight befitting the esteemed title. A belt every WCW wrestler coveted. A belt that Hogan had worn proudly.
Then, before a shocked arena and national pay-per-view audience, Hart swung the hallowed belt against his client's skull, landing a cruel blow that halted the match and stripped Hogan's title.
And that, friend, is why the WCW is coming to Scope on Sunday.
That's why the fight card at the 6 p.m. event is built around a three-ring ``Battle Royal'' that will see 60 professional wrestlers tangle in near-total anarchy for the World Heavyweight Championship.
Because, you see, Hogan was disqualified after Hart's dastardly attack - it was his manager, after all, who had interrupted the action. And Hogan's contract, thanks to Hart, said that he'd lose his title if he were ever disqualified. And Hart, unbeknownst to anyone, was out to get Hulk Hogan - and, in the process, to crush all that is good and pure and beautiful about the United States of America.
``All along, Jimmy Hart had this plan in mind,'' said Alan Sharp, the WCW's top spokesman.
``Jimmy Hart was a complete Benedict Arnold. He turned on Hulk Hogan.''
So were laid the seeds of ``World War 3,'' the name the WCW has bestowed upon Sunday's main event.
Three rings will be erected on Scope's floor. Twenty wrestlers will be put in each. The ref will blow a whistle, and in each ring every wrestler will struggle mightily to throw every other wrestler over the top rope.
The WCW's biggest stars will be here. Hogan, a star so big his name is trademarked, will struggle to regain his title. Also among the Battle Royal's 60 will be The Giant, as well as another giant named The Yeti. And ``Macho Man'' Randy Savage. And ``Nature Boy'' Ric Flair.
``It's basically everybody,'' Sharp said, running through the roster: Lex Luger and Johnny B. Badd, Disco Inferno and Diamond Dallas Page, the Nasty Boys, Dirty Dick Slater, The Taskmaster.
And Mr. Wonderful, who, Sharp noted, ``has a very positive self-image.''
After a few minutes of mayhem, each of the three rings presumably will be occupied by a single wrestler or team. Exactly where the action goes from there is a bit fuzzy - Sharp said only that the survivors ``will continue to battle'' - but eventually the few will be whittled down to one.
That'll be the new world champion.
The main event won't be the day's only draw, however. There'll be a tag-team match featuring only Japanese women. Ric Flair will take on Sting. And Johnny B. Badd will defend his World Television Title against Diamond Dallas Page, who is so confident of victory he's promised his girlfriend, Diamond Doll, to the winner.
Grudges will be settled. New feuds will be born. Good and evil, not just wrestlers, will grapple on the canvas.
You won't need a scorecard to tell heroes from villains, despite the fact that both scream all that they utter, unfailingly refer to themselves in the third person and cherish unfortunate haircuts.
The WCW ensures there is no ambiguity in the morality play that unfolds en route to a three-count. The good are very good - trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous and such. They wrestle by the rules. They are kind to animals and little children. They love this country.
The bad are very, very bad. They usually go by doomsday nicknames, wear scary black costumes, rejoice in hatred. They sometimes win, but not without resorting to dirty tricks, most of which involve distracting the ref while a gang of henchmen sneaks into the ring to hammer Mr. Nice.
``Macho Man'' Randy Savage will be the good guy Sunday when he fights Lex Luger, a member of the Dungeon of Doom, ``a very evil grouping,'' according to Sharp. Sting, ``a tremendous fan favorite,'' will wear the white hat, vs. ``Nature Boy'' Ric Flair, who inexplicably turned on Sting during a recent tag-team match. Hogan has been a good guy for years, and is the sentimental favorite to win the Battle Royal.
Finally, ``Hacksaw'' Jim Duggan will represent purity and light in his fight with Big Bubba, who was known as the Boss Man until he ``turned to evil,'' Sharp said, adding: ``Instead of following law and order, Big Bubba follows his own law.''
Hacksaw underlines his own righteousness by waving the Stars and Stripes and lugging a two-by-four into the ring.
``The two-by-four represents the working man,'' Sharp explained. ``Hacksaw comes from a long line of . . . fighters from Ireland.''
``He's Irish?''
``He is Irish,'' Sharp affirmed.
``Then what's with the American flag?''
``Well,'' Sharp struggled, ``he's very patriotic.''
``About America, even though he's Irish?''
``Yes.''
``He's a naturalized citizen?''
``Yes,'' Sharp said, ``he is.''
A cynic might lean back at this point and express doubt that all this is on the up-and-up.
A cynic might note, for instance, that Norfolk's Lou Thesz, a bonafide world champion wrestler from the days when pro and high school wrestling were the same sport, calls the WCW ``choreographed tumbling,'' says it's ``entertaining, not wrestling.''
A cynic might agree with Thesz that Hulk Hogan is a wrestling ``zero,'' that Thesz ``could go to any high school or junior college and find any heavyweight kid, and that kid could take (Hogan) down and beat him.''
A cynic might see World War 3 as no less theatrical than ``Phantom of the Opera,'' which will be playing next door at Chrysler Hall - and cite, among the evidence, that the WCW is run not by longtime wrestling types but by executives of Ted Turner's TV empire.
A cynic might sniff that World War 3 was planned long before Hart backstabbed Hogan in ``Halloween Havoc.''
While we're on that subject, a cynic might balk at the notion that Hart would betray a moneymaking machine like Hogan, through whose beneficence he could have built his own Olympic pool and filled it with $50 bills.
Yes, a cynic might say those things.
Let him. Who cares what a cynic thinks?
Not the 6,000 people who, come Sunday night, are going to be packed into Scope, at $10 to $35 a ticket.
Not the tens of thousands of others who will pay to view the event on cable TV.
Not them, and not the WCW. No, Sunday's going to be a winner, all around. Money will be made, and the fans will be entertained.
Even if it isn't Olympic-style wrestling - or, more probably, because it isn't - the fans will be entertained.
``By the time World War 3 begins, they will be in an absolute frenzy,'' Sharp predicted.
``With the first six matches alone, heck, close the curtains - it's been a great night.
``But no - there's more.'' ILLUSTRATION: Color photo
Sting and Lex duke it out.
KEYWORDS: PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING by CNB