Bret Hart Vs. Shawn Michaels Complete History | Wrestling Timelines

November 9, 1997 - The Screwjob

The television is puerile and disjointed. Bret at one point is framed as a racist in a cheap bid for controversy that disgusts him. The realistic, narrative sophistication of 1997 is receding. 1998 in effect begins in November ‘97, not January.

In Montreal, at Survivor Series, Bret defends his title against Shawn - but he holds it after agreeing to jump to WCW. The contract is signed; Bret faxed it with tears streaming from his eyes.

There is not even a remote chance that Eric Bischoff will allow Bret to wear the winged eagle on WCW Nitro. There are three main reasons why. Firstly, Eric and Turner Broadcasting higher-ups are weary and tired of the unresolved legal issues WCW is still facing after a mischievous, publicity-courting Bischoff poked the bear a year ago by presenting Scott Hall as Razor Ramon. Secondly, there’s no pressing need; WCW is hammering the WWF in the Monday Night War ratings battle. While Eric is still fond of burying the WWF on his own TV show, the publicity stunts worked. Thirdly, Bret himself is too solid a man. He was asked by Vince to rip up the physical WCW contract offer on Raw when he returned last year. He refused, and even put WCW over (not by name) for conducting themselves professionally.

Vince McMahon’s defence for what follows is simply unacceptable.

After weeks of back-and-forth meetings, the finish to the match is “officially” decided upon. Vince suggests to Bret, knowing the real plan all along, that DX interfere, with Bret seconds away from the Sharpshooter victory. This will draw out the Hart Foundation and spark a schmozz. It’s a dire finish by the standards of any era, but in 1997, it is really poor. Then again, WWF fans will see and go crazy for this sort of thing over the next four years. In this scenario, which Vince pretends to entertain, Bret simply hands over the title the next night, thanks the WWF and the fans for being great to him, and leaves. Not to defend McMahon, but that is heatless. That isn’t wrestling.

Bret is suspicious about the conversation, and confides in the assigned referee Earl Hebner. “They’re going to f*ck me,” Bret says. Hebner swears on the heads of his children that he won’t go along with it.

Bret then agrees. It’s better than putting over Shawn, and he’s tired. He’s offered to put anybody else over at the appropriate time, even the Brooklyn Brawler, and his love for the sport is dying, like, in his mind, the sport itself. Bret heads to the ring; despite Vader’s warning, he trusts Earl.

In reality, he’s about to get screwed. The idea for the screwjob - a shady old practise thought banished to an even more secretive, cutthroat era - is arrived at independently by Triple H and Jim Cornette Triple H is calculated, and pitches it earnestly. Cornette, a member of a booking committee locked in discussions over this for weeks, just says it out of exasperation, not quite realising that it actually appeals to his boss.

The best artistic work Shawn and Bret ever achieve together is rendered completely meaningless by the finish. The brawl is incandescent. The animosity is palpable. If it builds and builds, it rivals Bret Vs. Austin. It doesn’t build; it ends when Shawn, per Pat Patterson’s idea, applies Bret’s own hold on him; before Bret can reverse it, Vince marches down to ringside and orders Mark Yeaton to call for the bell. Bret spits at Vince; even at his least composed and most enraged, he’s the Excellence of Execution. The phlegm blasts Vince directly in the eye. Shawn goes crazy, feigning disgust. The Screwjob isn’t his idea, but he knows. He’s in on it.

Bret writes ‘WCW’ in imaginary letters. Hebner flees into a running car before he in effect is disappeared for two days. Bret, marching backstage, after fair warning punches Vince in the head so hard that his now ex-boss jumps off the ground and rolls his ankle on the way down. Bret’s then-wife Julie accuses Triple H, who bows his head like a coward, of having something to do with it.

Then, there’s Shawn. Bret asks him if he had anything to do with it. Shawn swears on God that he didn’t - but he hasn’t found him yet. Still, Shawn is emotional. He plays the asshole on TV the next night, but in that dressing room, the tears, perhaps even the humanity, floods out of him. The man is devastated, inconsolable, as Bret thanks him for the match.

In a grim irony, McMahon uses the controversy to develop his mega-drawing onscreen heel character and launch the Attitude Era. Bret is screwed - and so is his dying vision of what wrestling should look like.