Ahhh, the Excellence Of Execution: the Best There Is, Best There Was, Best There Ever Will Be. Bell to bell, Bret The Hitman Hart is one of the greatest storytellers the professional wrestling industry has ever seen. On the stick however, hes always been an unremittingly average talker. Thats the telling thing, you see. If Hart was an awful, awful promo guy, hed have learned to hide his deficiencies, or the promotions he worked for would have booked their way around it somehow. Hed have had his mic time shortened, made less mean more. Instead, the Hitman never learned to become anything more or less than utterly mediocre on the mic. Not only were most of his promos porridge-bland: his face was wooden, his delivery monotone with that abrasive edge to it, no matter what he was saying, to who or why it always seemed as though Hart was gritting his teeth and grimly hacking his way through the words he needed to say, just to get to the other side. Because he wasnt a stuttering liability, he never needed to figure out how to cover for his weaknesses. Perhaps he always assumed hed get better at it. The end result is that the history of the WWF and, latterly, WCW is filled with examples of stilted, cringeworthy Bret Hart promos that went on far, far too long: where the Hitman allowed heat to dissipate because he didnt understand how to get the story over unless he was wrestling.
Professional writer, punk werewolf and nesting place for starfish. Obsessed with squid, spirals and story. I publish short weird fiction online at desincarne.com, and tweet nonsense under the name Jack The Bodiless. You can follow me all you like, just don't touch my stuff.
