The Wrestling home of Moondog Manson

Well, that was well worth the trip out to the sticks.

It had been ages since I was out in Cloverdale to see wrestling, ages since I had written of Tim Flower’s moribund International Championship Wrestling (ICW). When word arrived that the Mike Roselli/ Randy Tyler led All Star Wrestlng had taken over the old ICW haunt at the Cloverdale fairground, I elected to make the journey out there and see if the product lived up to the buzz it had been receiving.

A large crowd was in attendance. Larger than I could recall seeing at an ICW event in any case. Including that East-Indian guy and his jackoff friends who always sit ringside and get in the workers faces. There was an unofficial pool at my former place of employment about which Worker would eventually kick the shit out of the whole lot of them. The fact that I had Juggernaut in the pool only adds to my disappointment that he will no longer be working in this territory.

Anyway…

The first order of business was to poke fun at ECCW commissioner Dave Republic. The ring announcer (Mr. “Class” himself: the BBC’s own Roger Ferrari) trotted out All Star Wrestling’s own Mike Democrat (an impersonator who, with Republic’s vast weight loss, bears him virtually no resemblance) to announce something that I couldn’t hear or understand.

And actually, now that I think of it, the parody commish should be named Mike Democracy. His name (Democrat) would be appropriate were the target’s name Dave Republican, but…
You know what? Fuck it...this is neither an English nor a Civics lesson.

To be perfectly honest, the number one reason I was headed out there was, as it turned out, the first match on the card.

Adam Firestorm (who, to my mind, will always be his alter ego: Torch) vs. fellow ECCW alumnus, Strife promised to be an absolute shop-wrecker, and they didn’t disappoint. Strife, while not as consumed by the reckless, Sabu-esque style which originally carried him to the top of my list of local favorites, managed to show a lot more technical sophistication than I can recall seeing from him in his ECCW days (particularly his final abortive appearance at the late, lamented Eagles Hall).
Firestorm (spelled T-O-R-C-H) turned in the same type of crowd-pleasing performance for which he is justifiably popular. It is not often that you see such a natural “Face” on the independent circuit. I can’t even imagine him as a heel, so easily do the crowds seem to fall in behind him.
Their match got the crowd warmed up fast. Both played to the audience and went all-out. Not much more could be asked of openers.

Next up was a three way dance between the unfairly derided Dropkick Murphy, a guy who’s name I failed to catch, but will refer to as Jailhouse Jackson (after a similarly themed and garbed wrestler we created for Nintendo’s fantastic Wrestlemania 2000 video game), and Bobby Blades…who looked suspiciously like Backstreet Bobby from the ECCW Junior Heavyweight Tournament.
This was a very well done match, particularly when one considers how often (and quickly) three-way matches can go straight to hell. The competitor’s use of the bleachers (particularly Dropkick Murphy’s dive onto the others--considering that Blades was visibly the smallest of the three) was unexpected and entertaining.
Hmm…my spellchecker keeps insisting that Dropkick be corrected to Drop-kick.
Murphy: Change your name.

Next up was an in-ring vignette with none other than former ICW star (and I say this without irony. He was without question the best part of every ICW card I attended) Fabulous Fabio, his homosexual valet Precious Paul, and ASW stalwart Iron Mike Roselli. All played their parts well, setting up their match to come.

At this point I ran into an old friend: none other than Stephen “The Canadian Kamikaze” LeBeau, who was off the card nursing a broken wrist. I had the good fortune awhile back to see LeBeau and the www.moondogmanson.com forum’s own Mercleson engage in a backyard match which favourably compared to most any match I had seen that year. ASW bookers heed this simple formula for success…
LeBeau + Mercleson = $$$
But back to the show…

Rockford 2000 and Arlen (whom I think was the original “Grunt” of ECCW’s Backwoods Militia, now in fantastic shape) squared off against The Suicide Kings (Nikki Sixx and Inferno from ICW). This whole match was a fairly standard “Face in Peril” type thing. Not terrible, but not noticeably great either. The one bright spot came from a very unexpected source: Rockford.
In the past I have not had a great many good things to say about Rockford. I have always found his mic work to be loud and unintelligible, his in-ring work to be sloppy and unimaginative.
Well, I guess I can just shut the fuck up. Tonight he was on. Everything about Rockford has improved since I last saw him. I won’t go so far as to say he carried the other three, but no matter where he was in the match, somehow Rockford had our attention. I’m looking forward to seeing his next match. It’s an odd thing for me to say, but Rockford has won me over.

Fabulous Fabio, Precious Paul and Iron Mike Roselli delivered on the promise of their earlier vignette and fought to a DQ (Roselli) in what has to be the most Foreign Object-laden match I’ve seen in ages outside of the Hardcore format. Blinding Powder, Chain-wrapped hands…If I had thought earlier that Firestorm and Strife had worked the crowd, it was here that I was corrected.
Precious Paul and Fabulous Fabio worked the crowd into a froth. Between Fabio’s constant berating of them for calling his sexual preferences into question, and Paul’s deft walk along the fine line between "Homosexual slap-in-the-face" and "Heterosexual threat to masculinity", they showed what working a crowd is all about.
Roselli was there to play the "everyman" that the audience could cheer for in the face of Fabio and Paul’s "alternative lifestyle". Why he chose to wear a robe that wouldn’t look out of place on my grandmother is anyone’s guess.
At the break I looked for a place to get a beer (having heard that ASW has had beer gardens at their shows in the past). No such luck. A truly sad turn of events. I settled for a hamburger from the concession, which deserves a lot of praise. It was a good hamburger.
When The JXP made his way to the ring one thought went through our heads:" Hey! It’s that U.S.A! U.S.A! Guy with the flag. And he’s joined Big Bad Voodoo Daddy!" Much as we tried, his giant plunger was beyond our understanding.
Much as I was enjoying the show, it had become clear that this promotion needed some female managers. Of the two valet/manager’s we had seen, both had been men; a situation I haven’t seen since Slick and Jimmy Hart were matching wits back in my childhood.
The match was to be The Mad Bomber vs. Jumpin’ Jason and was pretty standard fare but for the incredibly old school stylings of Jumpin’ Jason. From his entrance music (Van Halen’s "Jump") to his choice of ring attire (a regulation red singlet) to his haircut (a permed mullet) everything about Jumpin’ Jason screamed "1984", and I’ve got to say…it was like a breath of fresh air. I don’t know as I’d like to see an entire card of Jumpin’ Jasons, but one is certainly welcome amongst the angst filled legions of wrestling psychos that populate the industry today.

Then came the main event.

Hardcore Legend Leatherface came to the ring with a quick display of his trademark chainsaw brandishing. Alas, he didn’t take to the audience, scattering them like a wolfhound amongst pigeons (as we have so often witnessed).
Anyone who has ever seen Leatherface knows the aura with which he surrounds himself: an unsubtle menace akin to the running chainsaw he wields. Brutal and unstoppable. Then Kenny Lush hit the ring. It’s hard to properly describe what Lush was projecting. Compared to last year, when he and I first crossed paths, he is in phenomenal shape. His skills are better than necessary for this type of match, and overall he had a good “look”. But what really pulled us into the match was that he seemed to really have that ever-elusive Intensity that so many wrestlers lack. Think of Paul “The Big Show” Wight: huge size, great ability in spite of it, decent on the mic…but inarguably lacking that intensity, so he remains a midcard entity.
Not so Lush. He had intensity to burn. He exuded it.
The match itself was a clumsily executed "worked shoot" involving tables chairs, thumbtacks and a runi-in by the entire roster. In one of the more brutal moments I’ve witnessed at local indy shows, Lush was slammed onto the tacks.
If our own Sam Halsall is still lamenting a lack or "Hardcore" in our local shows, then I think the arrival of Kenny Lush is just what his doctor ordered.
In an odd turn of events Rockford took the side of Leatherface, alternately handing him chairs and kissing his ass…all to set up a "10,000 thumbtack Japanese Death Match" between Lush and Leatherface at the next ASW Surrey Show. I’ll certainly be in attendance. ASW seems to be the great addition to local wrestling scene that they claim to be.