This is the height of wrestling. You start with the WWF’s preeminent personality, Stone Cold Steve Austin. Throw in a little Mick Foley doing his Dude Love thing with a giant stain on his ass. The Undertaker is inexplicably standing at ringside doing nothing until he slams some 80-year-old dudes through the announce tables (ay caramba). Vince McMahon is jacked up on ‘roids as the referee, yet he refuses to give Stone Cold the three-count. And the icing on the cake, as always, is Jim Ross’s impassioned play-by-play. It’s not wrestling if J.R. isn’t calling things. I wish he announced my life:
“Keith Stone crossing the street. AND HE WAS ALMOST HIT BY A BIKE! GOOD LORD, WHAT WAS HE THINKING!? BUSINESS IS ABOUT TO PICK UP!”
Let’s take a look out how ludicrous and awesome the ending is. First, the Dudester hits McMahon in the face with a steel chair even though they’re allies. A sanctioned referee enters the ring to fill in for McMahon and is interfered with by McMahon’s crony, Pat Patterson. Then, Patterson and Gerald Brisco, who theoretically have about as much authority as me trying to call a foul on LeBron James from the crowd, try to count the pin.
That doesn’t even come close to the most ridiculous part of it all. When the Undertaker says adios to the stooges, Stone Cold earns the victory by using McMahon’s own unconscious hand for the 1-2-3. Can you imagine if the Giants scored six points because Brandon Jacobs knocked out Ed Hochuli and raised his arms to signal a touchdown? Oh, I love wrestling.
Rainman Suite 