In a Match with All the Stipulations, the Fight Takes Center Stage
In a Match with All the Stipulations, the Fight Takes Center Stage
Don't let the gimmicks fool you, this is as good and simple as it gets.
Ted DiBiase and Jim Duggan are no strangers to stipulation matches.
In the two or so years that their feud raged through the Mid South, they brawled their way through a whole host of gimmick matches—some classic and familiar, and some just a little stranger. No matter the rules attached though, they’re all incredibly heated brawls elevated by the energy of the passionate fans in the Sam Houston Coliseum. It could be something as straightforward as a street fight or something that sounds a little stranger like a football helmet tag team match, but the key to it was that when Hacksaw got his hands on The Big Cheese, it ruled.
Before we get into the key attraction of the week, I want to first talk about a match that closely preceeded it. The March 8th, 1985 bout between these two is probably the most relevant in the series when it comes to making sense of the cage match to come. DiBiase opens the bout by throwing powder into Duggan’s eyes which allows him to control a majority of the match. When Duggan begins making his comeback, Skandor Akbar makes all the difference. Akbar breaks up what looks like a winning fall for Duggan, then also passes along a loaded glove to DiBiase which he uses to KO the challenger.
And thus, all the elements you need are there for what’s to come. The cage is self-explanatory, it keeps out Akbar and any other interfering parties. The coal miner’s glove on the pole calls back to the loaded glove that DiBiase used on Duggan. The loser has to leave town cause this whole thing’s gotten too heated and needs a conclusion. And the tuxedos cause they rock.
Really though, the tuxedos make a nice contrast to the come-as-you-are street fight from 83. From brawling in shirts and jeans, these two are now dressed in their best to send one of them away. Add to that they’re conveniently colored for fans to tell exactly who we need to root for—Duggan in angelic white, DiBiase in malevolent black.
That simplicity of morality carries through in the action as well. On this night, Ted DiBiase is called upon to do one simple thing: pay for his sins.
Mechanically, it’s not the biggest bumping one will see from a heel of this era, and it’s not even the meanest beatdown while the heel is in control. Compared to Duggan’s performance, DiBiase feels almost muted through this whole thing.
Where he does excel though is committing to the morality of his role. Every advantage is stolen via some form of cowardice or manipulation. At no point in the entire match does one ever get the impression that DiBiase is any way stronger or more talented than Hacksaw. He has a lot of tricks in his bag though, whether that’s raking at the eyes, tying up Duggan in the tatters of his own tux, or his constant attempts to try to retrieve the glove. It’s a performance from DiBiase that’s consistent and honest, if never quite transcendent.
Jim Duggan is money though.
He performs with a magnitude befitting the heated atmosphere of the crowd. From him stomping his massive feet to rile up the fans in the opening moments to selling incredibly well for a man his size during DiBiase’s control, Duggan puts in a well-rounded charistmatic performance here. He’s impressive even in small moments, like when he physically climbs the pole to grab the coal miner’s glove in the finishing stretch. Just a minor detail that can’t help but remind me of the man’s awesome power.
Duggan’s punches feel righteous in this. He swings with the force of all that’s good in the world, and the climactic punch with the coal miner’s glove on feels right to end such a bloody and hateful rivalry.
It’s the kind of bloody, fiery babyface performance that makes legends of men, and I’m convinced Duggan’s the main factor that makes this match endure—even beyond its memeable stipulation.
In fact, that might be what I appreciate most about this match. It never feels like it drowns in the gimmickry. With so many different things to balance, it rarely feels overstuffed or convoluted. Everything proceeds naturally, smooth as water. Part of that’s the compact runtime at just eleven minutes, but also it’s a testament to the construction of the action. When everything’s focused on a simple story of vengeance, it’s really hard to mess up.
IS IT BETTER THAN 6/3/94? Nah, but it’s a good time.
Rating: ****1/4