WWF Saturday Night Main Event #24 (11.25.89) review 

 

November 25, 1989 (Taped: October 31, 1989) 

 

We’re in Topeka, Kansas. Not to be confused with Topanga, Boy Meets World. We’re at the Kansas Expocentre, which was built in 1987. So, it’s all shiny and new. Like a virgin. Ooo! It’s now called the Stormont Vail Events Center. A bunch of terribly named Kansas sports teams have played here including, get ready to giggle, the Kansas Koyotes, the Topeka Sizzlers, the Topeka Scarecrows and the Topeka Tarantulas. You may recognise it from its informal, and more frequently used name; the Landon Arena. Hosts are the sex trafficker Vince McMahon and Jesse “Abraxas” Ventura.  

 

“Justice is a lady, not a stick” – Dusty Rhodes 

 

Hulk Hogan stops off to say that the Genius faces a riddle that Socrates, Aristotle and Plato couldn’t solve; “whatcha gonna do when Hulkamania runs wild on you?” Seeing as Hulkamania has only existed since 1984 and all of those gentlemen sadly passed away hundreds of years before the birth of Jesus Christ, and the start of the Roman calendar, I would have thought it was unlikely they would have been presented with that conundrum. Unless he’s talking about the Socrates from Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure*, who was brought forward in time to modern day San Dimas, California, and would have surely been exposed to Hulkamania. In which case he was fucking stumped, and Hogan is bang on the money. He’s slayed me at the 4D chess there.  

 

*Coincidentally enough released in 1989, probably placing Socrates foremost in the mind of the Hulkster. He’s probably hot about it outgrossing No Holds Barred though, which is did, by quite a lot. I digress. 

 

Sidenote: shout out to @Grundyman517 on Twitter for reminding me that Barry Windham was supposed to be in the Survivor Series team and got replaced by John Tenta at the last minute. I had completely blanked on him even being in the WWF at the time. What do you mean, you don’t remember the Widow Maker’s classic 1989 run in the Fed? He had to leave because of a counterfeiting scandal!!! 

 

Any more nonsense or are we underway? We are? Sick.  

Video Control takes us backstage and oh no, every time I see Andre smile it makes me wonder how many teeth he had.  

You would think Bing would have a handle on the key part of my search here. Like, here’s a random article but there’s no teeth in there. I just want to know how many teeth he had. You may ‘astound’ the odd passer by with stories of Andre the Giant, but I’ve heard them all. I’m a bloody journalist, I am.  

Now, we’re talking. In rows! Like a shark! It makes me further wonder if he had an extra liver in there somewhere. I like a pint, but I couldn’t drink 119 beers in a single sitting. Unless it was over the course of a couple of weeks. It would probably be doable with mild. It’s not that strong. 119 pints of mild please, boss. That’s only…190 units? What’s the weekly safe limit for chaps? 180 or something. I digress. 

 

“Let’s go break some necks” – Bobby Heenan 

 

Video Control continues with Warrior, who does circles around Gene Okerlund making the kind of noise you would make if a vibrator was stuck up your arsehole. I guarantee you McMahon has the controls on that thing. Woyah promises to feed on the fruits of victory. What are the fruits of victory? Nectarines? I bet it’s nectarines. I hope Warrior manages to dislodge that vibrator before he wrestles Andre. I’ve heard stories.  

 

WWF Intercontinental Championship 

Ultimate Warrior (c) vs. Andre the Giant  

So, they decided Andre wasn’t a commodity anymore so he’s doing jobs to get next level stars over. Unfortunately, Andre shares something in common with me. He fucking hates Warrior’s guts. Which means he has no intention of cooperating during this match.  

Andre, sad, old and broken, is almost completely immobile at this point and, on top of that, in a bad mood. Warrior, moron, jackass, just bumbles around in there. Warrior throws a few potatoes, and I start praying. Please God, give Andre the power to move around fast enough to murder this clown. Tear him limb from limb.  

 

This match guys. It might be the worst match of all time. Anything they do looks terrible, and Andre gets so pissed off he just grabs a bearhug and refuses to let go. Warrior goes for Andre’s weak spot; the liver. YOU SON OF A BITCH. HE NEEDS THAT TO DRINK! Seriously though, the spots in this are so comically bad. Warrior attempting a crossbody on Andre, tied in the ropes, and running into Andre’s foot is a car crash. The referee has eventually seen enough and disqualifies both men for daring to have a match this bad.  

 

AWA wouldn’t put this match on. That’s how bad it is. If I was Vince, and I’m not, I would have pulled the push right here. It’s clear Warrior is too stupid to be a world champion.  

 

Video Control gives us the Genius, as he does another poem that doesn’t rhyme and Ventura claims “Hemmingway and Frost got nothing on this guy”. Is he just plucking writers names out of the air? As for picking Ernest Hemmingway. He drove an ambulance in World War I, survived multiple plane crashes and won the Nobel Prize for literature. Lanny fucking Poffo couldn’t even conceive of writing For Whom the Bell Tolls! Get fucked Jesse.  

 

We go to Hulk Hogan for a rebuttal. It’s time. It’s time for Hogan Maths. If you multiply prayers, training and vitamins (the three “demandments”) by 24 (of the inches of his “pythons”) and the number of Hulkamaniacs in attendance you get….wait for it…victory! What mathematical bullshit is that? Did Socrates put him up to it? However, thanks to maths, we now have the formula for victory.  

 

3x24x7773=victory. Which means victory is 559,656. That’s what you need for the win, people. Keep that in mind. It will be on the test.  

 

WWF Championship 

Hulk Hogan (c) vs. The Genius  

Poffo rolls over the ropes backwards into the ring and Hogan, taken aback, stops and applauds.  

Genius then bails to calculate the trajectory of the big boot and how much force he’ll require to unsettle the big man. Hey, what you need is 559,656. You can’t divide lbs by feet either, you absolute maniac. Stick to the poems. Hogan watches some of “the arts” for a while but becomes angry because he doesn’t understand the aesthetic. He just can’t interpet the meaning of the art. The Hulkster skipped the Age of Enlightenment. He only understands clotheslines. The only addition he does is the ten count punches. 1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1+1=10. Wow, how many ten count punches would you need to do get victory? Nearly 56,000. That’s a lot of ten count punches. I doubt anyone in Kansas can count up to 56,000 without losing their way either.  

Mr Perfect arrives during the match, to kick-start his Hogan feud of the winter of 1989/90. This allows Genius to hit the moonsault, but Hogan kicks out and hulks up. Normally this would lead to big boot, legdrop, 3-count, posing but Genius, through his ART, upsets Hogan enough for him to pitch Genius clean over the top rope. Perfect whacks Hogan with the belt and Genius wins on count out! “Brains wins over brawn” – Ventura. Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. It was pure maths. Genius rips away the top sheet on his papyrus to reveal the figure 559,656. Holy shit, you son of a bitch, you did it. It’s like watching a magician.  

 

I’m not sure you can rate this on a traditional scale of 1-5 stars, but Poffo did a marvellous job of taking Hogan out of his normal match and doing weird shit. Let’s give it **½ for effort. 

 

Big Bossman vs. Dusty Rhodes 

Dusty, having been beaten by Bossman, says “no more”. His momma also says, “no more”. He claims Slick will pay the penalties for his crimes. Like when you return your copy of No Holds Barred late to Blockbuster? And you didn’t rewind? You fucker. You’re the reason Blockbuster went out of business. The poor staff spent all their time rewinding tapes instead of gaining important industry knowledge, which in turn has reduced movies to giant CGI adverts instead of the kind of King Shit nerdy business Tarantino makes.  

 

Sweet Sapphire is ringside, again, to cheer on Big Dust. He needs encouragement because he barely gets going here. Diabetes has kicked in. He’s low blood sugar. He needs a snack. Somebody get this man a fucking Snickers bar, stat! A mars bar? Please. It’s for the American Dream. This is how the American Dream ends. Beaten down by a large white man in uniform, drooling at the mouth, in need of insulin. The irony.  

Slick starts arguing with my sweet Sapphire (I can’t even type it without hearing it in Dusty’s voice; “mah thweet thappire”) and Dusty rolls Bossman up for the win! Dusty has his own night stick, which tragically has no polka dots on it. A missed opportunity.  

 

Red Rooster vs. Mr Perfect 

I know I’ve verbally abused Terry Taylor, the fucking geek, the loser, during these reviews but he was a decent technician and deserved better than the Rooster gimmick. Nah. I’m just kidding. He was a corporate stooge and deserved everything he got. They should have had him bumbling around with Pat Patterson and Gerald Brisco during Attitude. Wearing dresses and being accused of having stinky farts and whatever else passed for ‘good’ in the late 90s.  

 

Taylor made it as far as the Rumble 1990 and then headed back to WCW, where he was treated as less of a joke. Taylor’s reluctance to stay and get the guaranteed money for playing a joke character should be a lesson to various WWE performers. Perfect was still unbeaten at this point and Hulk Hogan is waiting in the wings rubbing his hands. There’s a big boot in your future BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOTHER.  

 

Hennig spends a huge chunk of this match selling, such is his nature. He gets fed up with that and the Perfectplex finishes. Basically, a squash but Hennig let Taylor have most of the match before finishing the poor bastard off.  

 

Two Out of Three Falls 

Rockers vs. Brainbusters 

This is the culmination of their 1989 feud as the Busters are off to WCW and Tully won’t even make it that far thanks to failing a drugs test. How dare the WWF suspend someone for COCAINE. You can’t tell me the bigwigs of this promotion weren’t snorting the Colombian marching powder incessantly during the Hulkamania highs. There was so much to do, and Red Bull hadn’t been invented yet. The Busters argue with Bobby Heenan pre-match as this pairing was, sadly, over. 

 

The story continues that the Busters are not on the same page as Tully gets double teamed and pinned in about a minute to a huge pop. 1-0 Rockers. 

Brain’s coaching here is basically yelling at Blanchard and, presumably, calling him a coke fiend. I’m shocked Tully isn’t wearing sunglasses to hide the state of his eyes. Heenan, sick and tired of the Brainbusters failure to beat these two wusses, walks out on them. Imagine getting beaten up by Shawn Michaels. Hahaha. As far as wrestlers go, he looks like he couldn’t punch his way out of a paper bag. Arn cleans him out with a Hot Shot and Tully gets the pin. 1-1. I’m begging Bobby to come back out here!  

 

During the ad break, Ventura gets a word with Heenan, who officially fires the Brainbusters, signalling the end of their tenure in the Heenan Family and indeed the WWF. We head back to the ring where Vince points out Shawn is in no condition to wrestle. Haha. It won’t be the last time! The third fall is very energetic with Jannetty on fire. There’s no denying this feud was red hot the whole year and it’s sad this is the end of it. Shawn catches Arn with a high crossbody for the duke. The crowd goes wild, again, and the Brainbusters are gone from the WWF. **¾. Probably the least of their series, with the Heenan storyline and the cocaine being of detriment.  

 

Video Control takes us backstage, and Curt Hennig is smashing up the WWF title with a hammer! 

Hammer time, snitchy! Gene Okerlund accuses him of “desecrating Hulkamania”. It’s not like he took a piss on Hogan’s mum or dug up his dead cat. Genius claims this is Hennig exercising his first amendment rights. Hitting something with a hammer isn’t free speech, you gibbering simpleton. Or is this his freedom to practice religion? Curt, first of his name, King of Belt Smashing and the Head Deacon of the Church of the Righteous Hammer. ALL HAIL! ALL HAIL! ALL FUCKIN HAIL!  

 

Gene Okerlund holds the broken belt like it’s a dead baby. Hulk Hogan turns up and the Genius beating him earlier is “EATING ME ALIVE”. He lives for the win-loss record, brrrrrrrother.  

 

The 411: 

There’s a lot to digest here. Did Hulk Hogan believe in time travel? Most likely. Did he believe that Socrates couldn’t fathom the bizarre nature of Hulkamania? Most likely, also. Did he believe that No Holds Barred was a work of art? Ohhhhhh, brrrrrrother.  

 

On the flipside of this coin is Warrior vs Andre, which is one of the worst matches of all time (to this point) and perhaps the worst match on television in the entire decade. It should have been the end of Warrior as a big player, but Vince McMahon is as stubborn as he is a sex offender and persisted with it anyway. What’s the worst that could happen? I’ve seen many people argue that Warrior was a success as champion, and they are wrong. He’s the beginning of the end for the Fed as a big deal. Worse still is what happened to Hogan. When Hogan put Warrior over and Warrior failed, it gave him licence to never job again because “look what happened last time, brother”.  

 

Plus, Warrior has no movie career to speak of and was a massive homophobe, a jerk and terrible to work with. Fuck him in the ear.