Mick Foley might be the true "King of Hardcore," but Shane McMahon could certainly form an argument as the rightful Crown Prince. Unlike Foley, or other superstars who constantly put their bodies on the line, Shane didn't need to do it--at least, not for any monetary reasons. He was the son of a billionaire and, perhaps more importantly, a great personality to have on the microphone. If he wanted to get his face into the spotlight, he had ample opportunities to cut promos and be involved in storylines that didn't involve him being used as a human javelin. But Shane went out and took loads of punishment anyway. Maybe he had something to prove to himself or to the other talent, or maybe he just wanted to help improve the quality of the product any way he could. Regardless of his rationale for doing it, one has to believe that he was also a big heaping dose of certifiable f*cking insanity. He never went out there to put on a "good" match. He went out there and risked his physical well-being time and time again to ensure that he had the greatest match possible, even if it meant permanently fusing his spine to an announce table. Whenever his name was on the card, there was a feeling in the air that truly anything could happen that night. And usually it did.
