Is The Finisher Kick-Out Ruining Wrestling?
It's over when it isn't over.
The finishing move used to mean something. That isn’t a misty-eyed, biased glorification of the good old days. It used to mean the finish of a pro wrestling match.
Undertaker’s Tombstone was once a guaranteed match-ender. It was a devastating move in itself. Performed by an unstoppable giant of a western mortician, who put his opponents in a body bag, it was a literal killer of a move. Steve Austin’s Stone Cold Stunner didn’t just defeat his opponents; the force was such that it stupefied them.
Hulk Hogan’s leg drop is perhaps the greatest example of the finisher’s power. Though it looked like it would genuinely hurt, the move itself was unremarkable. As the Immortal Hulk Hogan’s killer blow, the build towards and the protection of the move was far more important than the unspectacular move itself.
In the years since, faced with an audience demanding constant evolution, Austin and The Rock at WrestleMania X-Seven built their match around the finisher kick-out. This worked for the two Attitude Era megastars; much like the Four Pillars of All Japan Pro Wrestling in the 1990s, who innovated and mastered this trend, Austin and Rock were awesome forces in storylines. It was easy to accept, especially on the Showcase Of The Immortals. They were immortal.
At its very best, the finisher kick-out trope provides unpredictable heart-in-mouth drama, and puts the wrestler kicking out over as a gutsy warrior.
The problem is that this spot, once reserved for the most special of occasions, no longer feels special. We’ve reached saturation point, at least in the midcard. No longer is the wrestler kicking out a gutsy warrior; the wrestler delivering the finisher is weak and ineffective. Beyond that: if the move is longer effective, why does the wrestler still use it? At its worst, this is twisty M. Night Shyamalan storytelling that undermines itself and its authors.
The two and nine tenths kick-out isn’t the only easy, guaranteed crowd-popping tactic at the disposal of the modern professional wrestler. Arguably worse is the will-they-won’t-they tap out spot, in which a wrestler’s hand hovers close to the mat as they flail in mock agony. In a post-UFC world, in which we know the gruesome result of choosing the snap over the immediate tap, the spot becomes difficult to buy - unless performed by a master. When Michaels struggled in agony, trapped in Kurt Angle’s ankle lock at WrestleMania 21, he made realistic an absurd premise because he sold it so well. His Mr. WrestleMania gimmick helped put it over, too; in context, the Show of Shows powered the Showstopper with a deeper reserve of grit.
Ultimately, when burnout kicks in, it seems that every wrestler wants to be Shawn Michaels at WrestleMania 21, or at WrestleMania 25, when he famously kicked out of the aforementioned Tombstone Piledriver. Often, like the wrestler’s pained expression, it is exhausting.
But, despite all that, the finisher kick-out isn’t ruining wrestling. It is another evolution of an art form that constantly adapts and survives. CONT'D...