The Secret History Of ECW | Wrestling Timelines
May 3, 1998 - Wrestlepalooza 1998
Oh dear.
Wrestlepalooza is a diabolical pro wrestling show, the timing of which is horrendous. It’s May 1998; the WWF is on track two of the Attitude Era. It’s no longer the lame, cartoonish enemy; it is competition for the young male demo.
Shane Douglas has an awful night. He first cuts a promo.
The one-sided feud with ‘Dick’ Flair, which has spanned at least four years in ECW canon, is now pathetic. Douglas isn’t the young firebrand; he’s the bitter also-ran. This is significantly less than ideal, since he’s a decade and a half younger than the guy who barely knows he’s in a shoot feud. Douglas is also as washed-up as the guys he once buried for being too old. He’s also, inexplicably, the ECW champion - despite semi-frequent hospitalisations and a grim array of physical issues. He won’t drop it for another nine months (!) because Heyman is determined for him to drop it to Taz when the match is truly worthy of being promoted. Rob Van Dam’s epic stint with the TV title becomes the main focus, but the strange waiting game in the real main event scene is a puzzling distraction to curious observers.
This ECW looks interesting; why is the Champion injured?
Heyman’s timing is never, ever right. He’s either too ahead of the game, or he waits too long to execute the plan. This failure extends to the length of the matches he promotes, too; so many are crushingly overlong. ECW’s big match history is littered with dragged-out disappointments. ECW is also expanding at the worst time. Early in the run, the promotion was mostly confined to the northeast, a few shows in Florida aside. By ‘98, Heyman is promoting shows in Georgia, Louisiana, Ohio, Alabama.
Those fans aren’t quite getting the revolutionary product they read about in the newsletters a couple of years ago, however.
Douglas doesn’t even bury Flair correctly at Wrestlepalooza, exposing a bit that is already tired as phoney. He says Flair kisses Eric Bischoff’s ass; in reality, they aren’t on good terms whatsoever. Taz is in such awesome form as an aggressive, undeniable champion-elect that the segment is saved when he interrupts it - but there’s no saving the main event.
Douglas beats goofy babyface Al Snow, whose silly act with a mannequin head valet of sorts is a delightful fad. The match is as excruciating to watch as it is for Douglas to endure. The man is so profoundly broken physically that he couldn’t even deal with the stress of flying. He was driven to the show.
Douglas is a heel, but his extensive physical issues were built up on TV before the main event - to enhance the emotion of it and to erect a narrative platform. This is almost immediately dismantled, and the very real injuries, which are not sold, don’t play into the story whatsoever. It’s a punch and kick-heavy nothing match indistinguishable from the tedious undercard bouts WWF fans sit through before they get to see Steve Austin and the Rock.
Al Snow in a main event is not in itself a betrayal, or anything like that. The ghouls in the ECW crowd got behind Mikey Whipwreck’s loveable loser arc, and had fun with the Public Enemy’s entrance. They can enjoy some irreverent, heartfelt material. What they can’t sanction is being insulted.
Shane’s gutsy performance is worthy of admiration, since he had no business being in the ring, but celebration?
No.
And yet, the locker room empties to do the “parade the proud warriors on their shoulders” bit. This is cringeworthy. The match and its embarrassing botched sunset flip finish is so bland that it barely warrants a passing grade, much less a once-in-a-generation scene of celebration.
For the first time, ECW feels fake. This is toxic to the brand’s appeal.