Terry Funk Makes it Personal with Ric Flair
The thing about Ric Flair is that he's a bastard. This is true of any version of Ric Flair. Babyface or heel, champion or challenger, wherever it is he finds himself, Ric Flair as a character (and as a man) was a real dirtbag piece of shit at his car. What makes his pro wrestling so wonderful is just how well he's able to let that miserable viciousness shine through. It manifests in different ways throughout his career. Most commonly, he's something of a cheap thief when cast in the role of champion--using all the codified heel tactics we know and love to get his way and retain the NWA World Heavyweight Championship.
But the most interesting moments from Flair comes when he's pushed to the edge of his own depravity. This often comes when he has a much more personal stake in a rivalry than just the precious World Title.
One sees it especially when Flair's sense of masculinity gets threatened in some way. Flair's escalates from meanspirited to outright psychotic when confronted with the likes of a Ricky Steamboat in the 70s, the Von Erichs in Texas in the early to mid-80s, or Ricky Morton in 86. All babyfaces considered something of sex symbols in their time, notably very popular with the women in the audience. His performances against these wrestlers highlight an almost animalistic rage in Flair that one doesn't always see in his traveling champion persona. They expose this raw nerve, unmasking Flair as this bitter, jealous human being only thinly clinging on to any sort of facade of civility and sportsmanship.
What makes the feud with Terry Funk in 1989 so great is that it upends the morality of the situation by putting Flair in the right. He's still a dick, don't get that wrong--even his dismissal of Funk's challenge at WrestleWar '89 to kick off this feud wreaks of his cocky self-importance--but now there's a righteousness to his crusade for vengeance. Terry funk tried to end his career in a hateful act of insecurity, and now Flair's out to prove that no one can get the better of him in that way.
Flair's such an otherworldly great heel throughout his career, that it gets lost how well he could shift gears to actually earn a crowd's favor. Take the pre-match promo with Gordon Solie. Flair's delivery is understated, but oozing with gravitas. There's doubt over his condition after being out of action since the attack from Funk, but there's also the cool demeanor and determination of a man that's never for one second stopped believing in himself. Everything about it is quintessential Flair--the self-belief, the cockiness to think he can do this even after almost breaking his neck--all while being entirely opposite to the famous caricature of Flair in our minds.
The match too is so different from the classic Flair template.
No scientific feeling out here, no finesse between headlocks and headscissors, it's fisticuffs from the get go. Flair chases Funk to the floor and he's throwing some of the most righteous chops of his careers, matching it to with some truly beautiful punches, and even a bite to Funk's schnoz. One of the few Vince McMahonisms that rings true to this day is that there's something far more relatable about a good ole punch being thrown than even the most cracking of Flair's chops. Even the little wind up Flair puts behind those closed fists invoke that classic feeling of "Yeah, get his fucking ass." Flair's used the punches as a heel move in the past, but this time he has the benefit of Terry Funk having earned this goddamn ass beating.
Flair's control segment here rings true as well. Structurally, it's extended such that one could read it as an extension of his babyface shine, but in the wider Flair canon, it's positioned in the exact place he typically applies heat to his opponents. What makes it work here as a babyface attack though is how centered and focused it is on pure vengeance. It has that element of Flair malice to it--he's trying to break Funk's neck after all--but we root for his success here.
A major part of that is that Funk makes his part in this sing so well. Funk has been talking shit for months and months, and like so many great heels, when the heat gets thrown back in his face, he folds. Notably, see Funk's stooge selling for that first piledriver Flair hits him with. It's a sell right on the borderline of goofy, but one rooted by just how satisfying it is to see him get got. Beyond that, it's followed up by the sell for the second piledriver which sends Funk stumbling out of the ring and crawling up the ramp for the hills. After all that talk, Funk can't even run like a scalded dog, he's crawling like a crippled one instead.
Funk's desperation is well-timed too, as it forces the escalation that triggers his own heat. Gary Hart at ringside slips Funk a branding iron and it's only that buys the Funker any kind of reprieve in this match. Outgunned in basically every other way, it takes cold steel to the face to bust open Ric Flair and set Funk on the attack. And here too is how Funk balances the expressiveness of his selling with the whole act. When it's time to lay in the hurting, Funk is just as vicious as the champion is. He sees the red stain on Flair's blonde hair and goes right for it. The camera gets up close and personal in the corner when Funk starts wailing away with punches to the wound, and it's the most perfect kind of wrestling magic where I couldn't tell you how much was a work and how much a shoot. In my mind, every single fist landed.
Funk excels at making his offense here feel so much dirtier than Flair's. It's an ugly, ugly fight all throughout, but Funk always takes it just a step too far. He's the one keeping this from being a one-on-one fight between men. He's the one that introduced Gary Hart and the branding iron, he's the one going to his wrist tape to choke Flair on the apron, hell he's even the one going for a piledriver right to the concrete instead of being content with the canvas.
Where this all comes together is that Flair really is the dirtiest player in the game. If it's going to come down to cheating and conniving, Flair's never shied from getting his hands dirty. Here though, it all comes in the form of retaliation such as when he's able to break funk open with the branding iron and goes for the cut with the same malicious fire. Those punches land with a crunch and it's invigorating to see him get Funk's ass, one of those few moments in Flair's career where his psychopathy gets applied to truly great affect as an avenging hero. He applies it with such violence, that one can even feel the slightest disappointment that it gets cut off.
The finish is so rich with history too. Flair goes for the figure four and Funk turns it into an small package--the exact same counter that he won the NWA World Title from Jack Brisco with. But Flair's a step ahead, countering it into his own cradle and getting the win. It's a meaningful win, if one that slightly sacrifices that absolute catharsis of a big win against the big bad. That's not such a bad thing though, there's a final piece of retribution to claim later on in the year.
Even as is, one of the greatest NWA World Heavyweight Championship matches ever. A near perfect masterpiece of evil triumphing over an even greater evil, one that fittingly devolves into a crazed brawl afterwards. There's a little more to go for Funk and Flair, but we've already talked about that.
IS IT BETTER THAN 6/3/94? Kawada and Misawa would get close to the tight emotional explosiveness that Flair and Funk do here--but not in 1994. They'd have to wait another year for that. Flair and Funk pack a whole hell of a lot of punch into this, having one of history's great matches while still leaving room for another of history's great matches. How many people could say the same?
Rating: ****3/4