Triple H and The Undertaker in a Vacuum of Good

It’s an interesting thing where the mind will wander off to when given the opportunity. About ten minutes into this bout, I found myself thinking about Renee Young’s rather brief stint on commentary for the WWE. Renee’s a rather talented broadcaster, and she always excelled in the role of the backstage interviewer, but something never really clicked for her at the announce table. Certainly nothing for her to be ashamed about, just a role that doesn’t suit her particular skillset. Given that, I came to thinking about how rare female English-language commentators are in general, which might make picking a GOAT for that category easier than it sounds?

Having said all that, is Portia Perez just the best ever women’s commentator in wrestling history? In English, at least. I imagine that Veda Scott is building quite a strong case for herself on that front too, especially with how prolific she’s been in recent years, but I’ve always had a much softer spot for Portia’s work alongside Dave Prazak in SHIMMER. Just genuinely funny heel character work without ever really crossing into the realm of being obnoxious or hard to listen to, always retaining a certain level of credibility about her. Up there with someone like Jesse Ventura, if we’re taking away the gender qualifiers.

I know that the topic of female commentators isn’t what anyone came to this to read about. That’s fair enough, it’s just genuinely where my mind wandered off to while rewatching this for BIG EGG. I’ve always hated this match, from the moment it happened as I caught it live as it aired. Even then, I could feel my soul shriveling at the thought of the time I’d wasted on it, a problem compounded by the fact that WWE Super Show-Down was a pretty bad show before this main event too.

Among the many, many sins that Taker and Hunter commit in this match, the obscene 27 minute runtime may just be the worst. It’s especially egregious on a wrestling card where Daniel Bryan and The Miz were given a measly 2 and a half minutes. Yes, I am certain that I would rather have seen a full length Miz match than this. I say it with full sincerity. With Dragon there, probably could have been great too.

27 minutes, my god. Whatever his faults as a pro wrestler may be (and there are many), “excess” isn’t exactly one of The Undertaker’s signature errors. That’s a Paul Levesque special all the way though, and this match is filled with so many ideas on how to kill time, none of them executed with any sort of skill or impact whatsoever. Hunter’s attempt at a David/Goliath evasion strategy, the early arm work (from these two! These two!), the half-hearted revisit of their WrestleMania X-Seven crowd brawling without anyone actually willing to take a bump this time, the interference from their seconds. None of it works, and all of it passes by with the speed and urgency of justice in a ruined world.

This feels like a match that was only ever supposed to exist on paper. After all, the only thing of value being brought to the table here is brand recognition. Triple H and The Undertaker are famous, and they’re names that will move some tickets, especially somewhere like Australia where a visit from the WWE is enough of a rarity to make things like that matter.

Phyiscally, there’s nothing for either man to do. Hunter’s at his most immobile, carrying so much mass and yet having no weight behind a single thing he does in the ring. Taker, who wrestled a legitimately great 90-second bout against John Cena at WrestleMania, is grotesquely exposed in this epic-type setting much like his receding hairline.

Everything else is just a tired rehash of things done before. Even the finish which sees the Sweet Chin Music/Pedigree combo reads more like a reminder of a similar spot from their Mania Hell in a Cell bout than it does an intentional building off of that foundation. The only benefit of such a spot is that it allows me to call Shawn Michaels the best worker in a match featuring Triple H and The Undertaker, which can’t help but feel like some kind of sick joke made to infuriate both the legions of WWE stans as well as all the message board nerds who hate everyone involved. A pyhrric joke if there ever was one, but with a kernel of truth nonetheless.

It’s all just so self-congratulatory as well. Four men resting on the laurels of their better years because their bodies are incapable of producing art in the moment. It’s pathetic to watch unfold, and eye roll-inducing when they lean so hard on what they clearly want to be Capital M Moments. Things like The Undertaker tossing away weaponry so they can settle things like men (even though he himself had already been swinging chairs earlier) or post-match when The Undertaker hands Triple H back his sledgehammer as a sort of salute of acknowledgement.

It’s all so hollow, entirely empty of any true meaning and worth. I see it having utility only as a cure to insomnia or perhaps as a background sound to guided meditation.

Awful.

Feel like Triple H and The Undertaker would have been better off just boning in the ring instead of tormenting us with something so masturbatory.

Rating: DUD