This week’s induction involves a scaffold match put on by XPW. And no, I don’t mean *that* scaffold match.
Now, for those unaware, New Jack once wrestled Vic Grimes atop a giant scaffold, where he shocked Grimes with a stun gun and hurled him off a scaffold in an attempt to take his opponent’s life for real. Like, for real, for real.
This was revenge for the Danbury fall in ECW, where Vic accidentally crashed down onto New Jack as they fell from a great height, cracking New Jack’s skull and blinding him in one eye.
At his next opportunity, so the story goes, New Jack wrestled Grimes in the scaffold match in XPW and exacted his vengeance.
Now, we at WrestleCrap don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but there are some holes in this story.
For one thing, the scaffold match wasn’t the two men’s first meeting after the accident in Danbury, CT. Fourteen months after the infamous fall, the two crossed paths in XPW, where New Jack leapt from a balcony onto Grimes.
The stunt went off without a hitch, and New Jack could be seen hugging Grimes after impact.
Nine months after that, the two men had their scaffold match with the supposedly unscripted ending. While most people seize up in response to hundreds of thousands of volts of electricity coursing through their body, Grimes flailed wildly as New Jack prodded him with his stun gun.
Then, while supposedly incapacitated from electrical shock, Grimes rose to his feet at New Jack’s insistence, sprung off with his foot, and grabbed the railing to guide his fall.
The last thing I’d want to do is slander New Jack and tarnish his legacy, but I really don’t think he attempted murder that night. Instead, it was just a well-executed spot that looked realistic, absent close scrutiny – which certainly cannot be said for XPW’s other scaffold match.
Five months later at Baptized in Blood 3, XPW putted Supreme against the “Hardcore Homo” Angel in the finals of their King of the Deathmatch tournament.
Like any scaffold match (except Bash ’91), the object was to throw one’s opponent off the platform and into the ring below.
Unlike most scaffold matches, however, this one began in the ring, meaning that at some point in the match, both men would have to decide to stop brawling and each voluntarily climb up the scaffold.
Fearing for the competitors’ lives and souls, announcer Ron Hed asked his colleague Kriss Kloss whether he was a religious man, then said a prayer in the tradition of at least two different religions rolled into one.
At the outset of the match, Supreme and Angel took turns whacking each other with light tubes and slamming each other into barbed wire. Such violence was, to quote one commentator, unmerciless.
At several points, Supreme looked to be incapacitated, which spelled big trouble for Angel, who’d have to figure out a way to carry the 300-pounder up the 40-foot scaffolding. Fortunately, like any good wrestling commentators, Kloss and Hed didn’t think too hard about the ridiculous stipulations and thus never considered such a possibility.
As luck would have it, both Angel and Supreme did have the presence of mind to schlep up to the top of the scaffold, as this was the only way to win the match (or lose the match and possibly die).
To maximize the danger, XPW had constructed a second ring specifically for this match, filled with stacks of tables and rigged to explode upon impact.
Angel appeared to have the match well in hand as he clobbered Supreme with a steel chair – I think. They were 40 feet in the air with no cameras nearby, so it was hard to tell.
But then XPW Champion Shane Douglas arrived with – what else? – a tranquilizer gun. Douglas was such a good shot that, from 40 feet below, he was able to shoot Angel right in the neck…
Fading fast, Angel did the only sensible thing and stepped right over the guard rail and executed a picture-perfect senton onto the tables, triggering the pyro and a patented blood-curdling scream from the announcer.
Unless Shane Douglas appears on Dark Side of the Ring to claim otherwise, this series of events was so transparently phony that even the Exposed: Wrestling’s Greatest Secrets guys must have said, “You know what? Let’s not even bother.”
That wasn’t the only baffling finish to close an XPW show that year – or even that summer. Three weeks earlier, Terry Funk battled then-champion Webb at Liberty or Death in a match without any wacky stipulations.
Funk and Webb duked it out for a few minutes before Funk asked the audience for a chair. Immediately, chairs rained down into the ring as fans tossed their seats in a replay of an earlier incident at ECW Arena. Of course, unlike the ECW Arena, the Pico Rivera Sports Arena could seat 6000 people…
…but luckily for Webb there was still hardly anyone there, sparing him further damage from the shower of chairs.
Funk and Webb took their fight through the crowd (which didn’t take long) and throughout the stadium, where they soon encountered kiddie pools of human feces.
Before you ask, this was not a normal feature of XPW events, but this particular event had featured a raw sewage match earlier on the card. After that match, the ring crew had apparently dragged the pools of crap over to a different part of the venue and simply left them there, figuring no one would be bothered by the smell. This was a wrestling show, after all.
Terry Funk threw the champion into the feces, which the announcers had to sell on Webb’s behalf (using the most juvenile language possible). This disgusting indignity would have been enough to break Jerry Seinfeld’s vomit streak (it was June 29th, after all), but Webb was barely fazed.
The same could be said for the fans, who remained nearly silent during the spectacle (either because they were bored of poop spots or because it was 1:30 in the morning).
Webb retaliated by dunking Funk’s head in the pool, in hopes that he’d drown in the brown. While Kloss and Hed debated the pool’s ratio of poo-poo to pee-pee, the two wrestlers carried on as if a fecal bath was the most natural thing in the world to happen in a wrestling match.
On his way back the ring, Funk continued to no-sell the raw sewage that supposedly drenched his clothes…
…and so did this fan, who patted the Funker on the back for encouragement.
Funk tried to brand Webb with a hot iron, which was even more dangerous than normal given the amount of flammable methane in the arena that night. He even drank some unidentified liquid (which, in the context of this particular evening, I really hope was lighter fluid) and spit fire at Webb.
Before the ring could catch fire, the referee grabbed the flaming iron and doused it (with what, I don’t want to know).
After throwing Webb into some thumb tacks, Funk tried to win the match and the title with a small package.
With Webb’s shoulder’s on the canvas, the referee counted one.
As Webb lifted his shoulders to reverse the roll-up, the referee counted two.
With Funk’s shoulder’s now on the mat, the referee counted three.
It seems the referee didn’t notice that the guy being pinned at the start of his count wasn’t the guy being pinned at the end of his count. Either that, or XPW featured some, uh, unique rules for pinfalls.
Unaware that he had already won the match, Webb hooked the ropes with his feet and kept Funk rolled up until the bell rang.
The fans came alive to boo the finish, while Kriss Kloss sprang into action to pretend they were booing Webb using the ropes for leverage, rather than the referee screwing up the finish and ending the match on a one-count.
You know, Evan Karagias spent some time in XPW. I wonder why he didn’t call himself, “1 Count”?