That Time Triple H Buried ECW In Philadelphia

Triple H wasn't ever Hulk Hogan, Steve Austin, The Rock or John Cena. Save for six sublime months in 2000, he wasn't the wrestler his best friend Shawn Michaels was. Despite his best impersonations, he wasn't Ric Flair. Despite his longevity with the organisation, he isn't The Undertaker. He isn't even Dave Batista today, no matter how hard he rehabs to get himself in shape for their potential WrestleMania 35 match.

That's not to say he isn't - on occasion - absolutely f*cking brilliant.

It's precisely because of those infrequent bouts of excellence that 'The Game's insecurity over the past two decades has been such a tragicomedy for the ages. Evolution was created in the image of his adoration of the Four Horsemen, but Hunter's laughable burials of Randy Orton over the years made a mockery of Ric Flair's fierce protection of sidekick Arn Anderson. Goldberg's abysmal 2003-2004 failures were systemic, but Triple H was part of that system by then - his tactical loss at Unforgiven a month after he should have laid down in SummerSlam's Elimination Chamber wrung the neck of the WCW golden goose.

Away from the main roster, Triple H gives his time, resources and reputation to his NXT hopefuls, but such support dissolves when he's on the card. His Survivor Series self-suck in 2017 was remarkable in its ugliness, whilst back-to-back supershows have seen his slogs with The Undertaker command nearly an hour of television that could have been donated to Finn Bálor, Bayley, Asuka or any of the other nobodies that used to be somebodies under his watch.

The nursery rhyme about the little girl with the curl can be repurposed for this formerly well-coiffed fella. When he's good, he's "That Damn Good", but when he's bad, he's f*cking horrid.

CONT'D...