Before I begin, I would like to reiterate from previous articles that I no longer watch wrestling, and haven't since around 2003-2004. However, I was an enormous fan since 1990, and still read about the "sport" simply to see which of my favorites have died.
God that sounds morbid.
I have seen and had an opinion on every angle ever concocted by the WWE (and pretty much all the other major promotions.)
I have bore witness to some of the greatest story-lines of my generation, including Ted DiBiase buying the WWF World title from Andre the Giant, the New World Order, and the Randy Savage-Miss Elizabeth saga.
I've also seen the low points: The union between Sting and Robocop, the Shockmaster, and Papa Shango's cursing the Ultimate Warrior to the point of explicit vomiting on national television.
I've seen it all, believe me.
In a addition to the story-lines, good and bad, I've also been to many live events that I'll never forget.
I helped Mad Man Pondo open a pack of salt to pour on Necro Butcher's open forehead.
I've caught confetti from Johnny B. Badd's Badd Blaster.
I single- handily turned Kid Kash heel during a match against Shark Boy.
Recently, Monday in fact, I read the recap of Monday Night Raw and was surprised at the angle involving the NXT rookies taking over the show.
Surprised, not blown away. Maybe if I had been watching and emotionally invested, it would have been different.
Either way, this angle is not the astonishing, genius storyline it's being cracked up to be.
I've been sitting on this story since 2003, and thanks to my relationship with BleacherReport.com, I finally get to share this with you all.
Pro wrestling fans young and old, prepare to indulge yourselves in the greatest storyline of all time.
My friends and I piled into the giant Detroit church, excited beyond belief. My friend's little brother was popping proverbial boners left and right at the thought of seeing Shawn Michaels live.
I, however, was more intrigued by the fact that Michaels and Sting were being promoted on the same card, something I never thought I'd see in a million years.
This was incredible!
Also incredible: we seemed to be the only true wrestling fans there.
A sea of well-dressed, middle-aged and older "fans" packed the church as we grabbed up the front row seats.
Ted DiBiase, the promoter of this monumental live event, came out first and welcomed us to his show. We immediately noticed a large bald man in a leather jacket standing near the entrance.
We proceeded to scream "Goldberg!" at the unsuspecting baldie until he turned around. I laughed my ass of when we realized it REALLY WAS GOLDBERG, and our attention had driven him to the other side of the church.
Add "Made Goldberg My Bitch" to that list of accomplishments at live events.
Point is, Da Man himself was in attendance. Something big was going down.
Local stars filled the show until the main event, a tag match featuring Sting and Road Warrior Animal taking on the dastardly heel team of Buff Bagwell and Greg "The Hammer" Valentine.
If this doesn't seem like a big deal, you're right, — it wasn't. If are a new fan and don't know who these guys are, it's understandable. (Even though the American Males had the greatest pro wrestling theme song ever.) We were just there for a good time.
Your typical tag match between aging has-beens concluded with Sting tapping Buff to the Scorpion Deathlock, and the show ended on a high note.
Or so we thought.
What transpired next was the most shocking, jaw-dropping, unbelievable thing I'd ever seen, pro wrestling or otherwise.
No amount of invasion angles, love triangles, or corpse-humping could ever prepare me for the following storyline, and I can't exaggerate enough how floored my friend and I were.
As Sting celebrated, the crowd cheered on my childhood hero, and some people headed for the door. A typical, yet star-studded indy show ended the way it should.
Then it happened.
Shit got super-real.
A pair of hooded figures slid into the ring and proceeded to beat Sting down. They stomped a mudhole in him until he wasn't moving, then unveiled a long chain in which they tied the Stinger up with. They left to a chorus of boo's, and Sting was left chained and beaten in the ring.
After a few moments, The Heartbreak Kid Shawn Michaels came out and tried to help Sting out of the chains, but to no avail. He then got on a house mic and egged him on, telling Sting to "break the chains" and even got the crowd to yell at Sting to get himself out of this mess.
"I CAN'T DO IT!" he screamed back.
Suddenly, Shawn agreed.
"You're right," Shawn said. "You CAN'T break the chains. In fact, there's only one man that can help you."
I get chills just thinking about this next part.
The old people around us started muttering something to each other, and a few stood up out of their seats.
The muttering got louder and clearer, until half the room was yelling "JESUS! JESUS!"
A large curtain that closed off the wrestler's entrance dropped, and an entire chorus line began singing a religious song and dancing in unison. People in the crowd were crying, jumping up and down, raising their arms.
My friends and I sat there, and needless to say, we didn't have a damn clue what to say or do.
Midway through the song, a man portraying Jesus made his grand entrance, complete with a Britney Spears-esque microphone attached to his head.
Oh yeah, in case there are religious people reading this article and may be wondering what Jesus looks like, let me break the news to you: he's no taller than 5'3", and he's as black as night.
After singing up and down the aisles, occasionally stopping to touch the hands of these sobbing women surrounding us, he got in the ring and the music subsided.
Jesus touched Sting's chains, and after a few encouraging words, Sting broke out of the chains like the Incredible Hulk and threw them off.
PEOPLE WENT APESHIT!
Say what you will about the enormous pops guys like John Cena, Hulk Hogan, and Jeff
Hardy receive from live crowds. This was 1000 percent louder and more heart-felt than any reaction a pro wrestler could ever dream of getting under normal circumstances.
For the next hour and a half, Sting, Animal, and Michaels all told their tales of overcoming their personal demons, and touched on the passing of Road Warrior Hawk.
We actually left before we got a chance to get autographs. I slept peacefully that night, with thoughts of Sting, HBK, and Black Jesus dancing in my head.
Okay, so maybe it wasn't the greatest angle of all time, or even close. But the reaction it got was REAL, and that's not easy to attain in pro wrestling.
You want to be shocked and surprised by the occurrences on TV? Maybe you should petition to get Ted DiBiase on the WWE creative team.
(edit: It has been brought to my attention by someone far smarter than I that Ted is, in fact, on the WWE creative team. Sweet.)
Because if the unlikeliness of an angle is the deciding factor of its overall value, THAT was the greatest story ever told in a wrestling ring.
So help me God.
Justin "The Juice" Orel