Last night, I attended a local wrestling show. This is a recap. I didn't have a camera available, so please enjoy these random Halloween Havoc images instead.
Ever heard of PWX Wrestling? Me neither. It's a small promotion based in Charlotte, NC. They make it a point to hit the "dirt fuck" towns, which I greatly appreciate. Hickory doesn't get shit. Oddly enough, I wouldn't have known about this event were it not for my cousin. He spotted a flyer and - knowing that I'm a haughty, autocratic wrestling nerd - passed the information along to my receptionist. A few names stood out, namely (pun intended, assholes) Matt Striker, Cheerleader Melissa, Joey Ryan and Colt Cabana. Melissa is one of the best female workers on the planet. I've always enjoyed Striker's contributions to WWE, and I was bummed out when his contract expired.
To be brutally honest, I'm ambivalent towards Joey Ryan and Colt Cabana. I know, I know...Colt is a deity to smarks. I don't dislike him. Obviously, he's gifted in the ring, but his frothy, comedic style doesn't appeal to me. To each his own. Anyway, I made sure to arrive early. Why? Because my Saturday nights are tantamount to those of a Syrian refugee (topical AND offensive). Plus, I wanted to see if I could nab an autograph or perhaps a quick word with one of the wrasslers. I succeeded on both fronts. In fact, I spoke briefly to Matt Striker. The dude is ripped, not that you would ever know from watching old episodes of Smackdown.
While I'm on the subject, I'll recount his match first. There was a fantastic injury spot, and the bout was stopped for nearly ten minutes. My mom bought it, which means that Striker did a great job of selling a concussion. He put over a rookie by the name of Adam Page. I had never heard of half of the card, and I'm fairly knowledgeable on the subject (I pulled my groin-quad patting myself on the back just now...don't ask where the groin-quad is located). For what it's worth, the younger cats were rock solid. There were no bad matches per se. Did I have a favorite, you may ask? That's what the next paragraph is for.
Cheerleader Melissa versus motherfucking Mia Yim...see, this is why the so-called "indie circuit" is invaluable. In my opinion, the show-stealer was a women's match. You'll never say that about Raw or Impact (well, maybe Impact two or three years ago). My exposure to Yim was limited, but I knew that she was badass. As of right now, I heart/worship her, and I've been trying to find as many of her matches as possible. Holy shit. This was a stiff, fucking intense fight that brandished sick grappling, measured pacing and plenty of "fuck yeah" moments. Well done, ladies! On a sidenote, Melissa signed a Shimmer DVD that I happened to pick up. Love. Her.
The main event pitted Colt Cabana against Joey Ryan. I believe the term "crowd pleaser" would be appropriate. It was lighter in tone, which made sense coming after Melissa/Yim (seriously, they brought the house down). Oh, I totally forgot the triple-threat tag team contest, a proverbial circus that elicited a "this is awesome" chant. I hope that I've written enough to sell PWX as quality entertainment. I know I left a happy camper. If this piece sounded haphazard, it's because I'm half-asleep. Man, Warrior is owning Hogan in that picture. I better shut up before I pass out on the keyboard. I'm going to start typing nonsense in a minimum here. Minute. In a minute here. Lilac buckets? Pleather, coriander, Newsradio...hey, did you return the tank?