Wrestling roundup fires away at 'Mayhem'

Fans, World Championship Wrestling's "Mayhem" pay-per-view aired Sunday, much to the world's chagrin. I could think of 29,318 things wrong with the show, but since most of it would end up on the newsroom floor, I shall limit myself to just three topics.

Problem No. 1: Jimmy Hart actually wrestled. For the past few weeks, he dared any radio disc jockey to go toe-to-toe with him in WCW, defying all forms of human logic as to why he would. His first challenge was Mancow. No, not a mythical half-human, half-bovine creature, but a raunchy Chicago radio personality with some nationwide exposure.

This crap-tacular "match" lasted for a minute and a half, though sitting through something so aggravating felt like an eternity.

After hundreds of abysmal celebrity-as-wrestler contests, WCW still does not get it. Fans hate to watch these matches. Celebrities are afraid to get hurt and will not do anything exciting and the damn matches cost too much.

Then again, celebrity matches are one reason why WCW is in such a mess. The organization is losing money fast, ratings and pay-per-view buyrates are at an all-time low and owner Ted Turner wants to get rid of WCW so fast he is willing to sell it to a pawn shop.

Problem No. 2: Shane Douglas does not get any respect. WCW has its hands on a wrestler that could be the top heel in about a year, and an upper-midcard title contender right now.

Douglas can put on a great match if he tries. He is also very adept at cutting a great promo that elicits jeers from the fans. Plus his valet, Torrie Wilson, is just damn gorgeous.

So how does WCW groom Douglas? By jobbing him to Ernest "the Cat" Miller, of all people. He knocks Douglas out with a red slipper, for crying out loud.

Instead of Douglas down for the count, he should be on a push to win the United States title. "The Franchise" would make an entertaining champion. Then again, no United States champion should ever be named General Hugh G. Rection (the current titleholder).

Problem No. 3: The thrill is gone. Scott Steiner reached a new summit in his career, capturing the WCW world title after beating Booker T in a "Caged Heat" match. The championship reign is way too late.

Once upon a time, Scott Steiner was actually a very exciting performer. He and his brother Rick were the best tag team of the 1990s. Before lucha libre became popular and influenced wrestling north of the border, American fans referred to the huracanrana as the Frankensteiner. His moves displayed a fine balance of agility, power and technical prowess.

He then suffered from injuries that significantly slowed him down. At the same time, he developed grotesquely large muscles, only making him more immobile. He took the path to heeldom in 1998 after turning on Rick. He bleached his hair, joined the New World Order and gave the silliest, most incomprehensible interviews in World Championship Wrestling. Besides his rhyming gibberish, Steiner would insult the fans, saying how they disgust him. A few seconds later, the female subset of fans Steiner debased are worthy enough to be his "freaks."

He now called himself, among other things, "Big Poppa Pump," a "genetic freak" and "Big Bad Booty Daddy." Just typing that last one is embarrassing, going by that nickname must be psychological torture.

As for wrestling, the muscle-bound Steiner now uses power moves on his opponents. He can no longer get off the mat to perform the Frankensteiner. His finisher, the Steiner Recliner, is the worst camel clutch in wrestling. A normal camel clutch has the victim's back arched while the aggressor sits on his back and pulls his chin. Steiner merely holds the opponent's chin in his hands, and the opponent is on all fours. The Steiner Recliner does not look brutal. It just looks stupid.

Scott Steiner has the strap now, but too bad it had to happen under the "Big Poppa Pump" era. Now if it had been the Scott Steiner with the black mullet and the ability to whip Frankensteiners out of nowhere, the belt would be in the right place.

At least Steiner can still be great today – as long as he's on videotape.

Until next week, fans, keep watching.

Chris Ledermuller is print journalism major at Cal State Long Beach.