The World According to Ron: An Old School Look at The New WarGames

Not bad, you?

I’ve been gone for a long, long time. If not for Mathew Sforcina’s generosity, I might have been forgotten completely. I’m the reason for “The Ron Rule,” which just means if I send him a question, I cut the line. He claims I “discovered” him, but I discovered him the way Columbus discovered the Caribean islands. He was always there, and he was always funny. I was going to be gone a week, probably for a game convention, and asked if he would like to be a guest columnist for me. He did, and now, well, you know what happened to him.

But, what about me? I stopped writing for 411 right about this time ten years ago, in November 2007. I remember that time, because Chris B____t was born exactly one day before me, and I fully expected he would outlive me. His death, and the circumstances surrounding it, really took the desire out of me to write, and even talk, about wrestling for a year or so. It’s now been ten years since The Weekend from Hell, and I thought it’s time to get back in the game. My only hope is that, after a month or so, I will be more popular on here than Justin Watry.

Where is that “cheesy grin” emoji again?

Anyway, if you remember the old wrestling magazines like “Inside Wrestling” and “The Wrestler,” (they have been called “Apter Mags,” but Bill Apter says they are more accurately “Weston Mags,” after publisher Stanley Weston) there was the old grizzled veteran writer named Matt Brock. Years later, Apter, Stu Saks, and others who wrote for them admitted “Matt Brock” was a pseudonym for anyone who felt like writing his column that month. I am now filling in the Matt Brock role for 411, except I’m a real person. Really I am. I’ve even sent stuff to Mathew, I’ve talked on the phone to Larry Csonka, I even saw Steve Cook at a ROH show in Dayton once.

Okay, enough jibber jabber. Time to opinionate!

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I have a few things to say about the NXT version of WarGames. And, since I’m an old guy, you probably know most of them. Or at least you THINK you know. Maybe I’ll surprise you. Let’s find out, shall we?

I wasn’t crazy about it.

First, some history. I’ve been watching a few from the NWA and WCW days on The Network, and there was a definite pattern. Things started even for five minutes, then the heels would win the coin toss and get the man advantage throughout the match. After the last member of the faces entered the cage (whether it was the eighth or tenth man didn’t matter), then they would all fight for a few minutes, until the faces would isolate one member of the heels team, the isolated heel would submit, and everyone would go home happy. Occasionally, the heels would win (1991 was the first time, but it also happened in 1996 and 1997), but for the most part that was the formula for a WarGames match.

1998 played with the formula again, with three teams (Team WCW, nWo Hollywood, and nWo Wolfpack), and one man would win the match instead of the entire team by getting a pinfall or submission. Vince Russo messed with it in 2000 by making it a Triple Cage of Terror match, and having the WCW belt above the whole mess. The winner and new champion would be the person who walked through the door with the title. This one completely messed with the format, not only with the three cages, but also with the door being open for the entire match. The idea of the cage was to make sure there was no outside interference, but if there was no outside interference, then how could we tell a complete story, Bro?

Yeah, I still don’t like Russo.

For this match, there were three teams again. I was not crazy about that, but I decided to give it a chance. They then announced that after the first five minute period, the rest of an entire team would enter. Again, kind of takes away the idea of having a man advantage during every other (or every third) period, but again, I took a wait and see attitude.

Then came the biggest change from the original matches: no roof. A roof would prohibit the participants from doing their high-flying moves. This does make sense, especially if you saw Brian Pillman hit his feet on the roof in 1991 before Sid Vicious power slammed him on his head. My first thought was, Why not make a higher roof? Don’t make the cage nine feet high, make it fifteen feet, so that a roof shouldn’t interfere. But again, I decided to wait and see. I really wanted to like this match.

Please notice the past tense in that sentence.

I wanted to, but I didn’t. It really had nothing to do with any of my reservations, either. I got past the “rest of the team enters at once” rule. I even liked the rule about escaping the cage results in a forfeit for the team. The weapons made it feel a little like a “Lethal Lockdown” TNAGFWIMPACT match, but they weren’t the focal point for more than a couple spots.

I liked the buildup for the match. They told a complicated story of how these nine guys didn’t like each other. It even made sense why Roderick Strong would want to team with the Authors of Pain, and why they would accept him as a member of their team.

So, you might be asking, why do you say you didn’t like the match? Glad you asked. I didn’t like it because it felt so… predictable. Look! There’s Eric Young and Roderick Strong on the ropes, beating on Adam Cole! Why, they’re both in prime position for a Tower of Doom spot. And…

Look! Adam Cole and Roderick Strong are fighting on top of the cage! It would be a shame if they fell from the top and no one was there to catch them. And…

Look! Killian Dain climbed up to the top rope, and others are fighting near that corner! Why, if they stopped fighting for just a few seconds, they could catch Dain if he jumps off the top rope. And…

Look! Killian Dain is holding up two guys for a fallaway slam/Samoan drop! Why, you don’t see that every day! I would hate to see someone else do that exact same move in this match.

Look! Rezar is holding up two guys for a fallaway slam/Samoan drop! Why, you don’t see that every day! I would hate to see someone else do that exact same move in this match.

Except, they did it at the exact same time, facing each other.

WarGames in the past meant chaos and mayhem. Eight, nine, or ten men, just fighting. Occasionally, there would be a spot that would require a minimum of choreography, but not often. This felt more choreographed than a high school production of “West Side Story.”

Not only that, but in the past, after the last person entered the cage, there was rarely more than five minutes of action. The thought behind that was, the match was so brutal that it wore the participants down faster than your typical cage match. Here, we had almost thirty minutes after Alexander Wolfe and Killian Dain entered the cage.

I’m sorry, NXT. It was a valiant effort, but next time, you don’t need to try to completely reinvent the wheel.

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That’s all I have now. I’ll write something more next week. In the meantime, this is my first column with the ability for you to give instant feedback. So, for all positive comments below, I will enter you in a drawing for a new pony!

You won’t win, but you’ll be in the drawing. Ciao, babies!