Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Wrestling Recap: Platinum Championship Wrestling – Sacred Ground Chapter 2 - 9/24/2011

or
From the Baptist Church to the Gay Bar: Adventures of the DCW Hooliganz

By Phantom Troublemaker


I have set a challenge for myself with this one. I am not going to do my normal, ridiculous recap of a wrestling event. I’m going to use real names and do my best to relate the events as they actually happened. Because this is Platinum Championship Wrestling’s Sacred Ground Chapter 2 and not only is it PCW’s answer to WrestleMania, I was actually much more excited about being at this past Saturday’s event than I was to be at the WWE show earlier this year.

I give myself about two paragraphs before things get goofy again. But I’m trying here.

PCW was setting up matches for Sacred Ground 2 all the way back in July. This is remarkable because WWE can’t give matches two weeks of lead-in, let alone two months. And as a result of that booking, a sizeable portion of the DCW Hooliganz were very interested in making the trip to see the big show. When I sent out the message asking who wanted in, the response was positive enough that I felt good about buying ten ringside tickets. This was extremely fucking stupid for a number of reasons that I’ll get to over the course of my excessively long introduction. There are some lessons I will never learn.

Gnoll, Hoffman, Evil and Lady Evil were all leaving from downtown and me and Angry Matt were leaving from my place; stopping in Stockbridge to pick up one more. Angry Matt was the Designated Driver as always and we left at about 5:30 because the doors opened at 6:30 and I figured it would be a good idea to get there between then and 7 to ensure our seats (I would turn out to be right about that one).

There was a bit of drama involved in our trip to McDonough that I’m not going to air out in public. Nothing with me and Angry Matt, but a couple of things that doubled our drive time. And resulted in me eating the price of a fourth ticket.

Darth Pete bowed out a few days before the show due to fatherly obligations (I understand that) and Mrs. Troublemaker had to stay home because our sitter backed out. The fourth unused “ringside” seat was one that I had gotten to have in case Rescue John or one of a few other folks could make it, but I knew beforehand that might be a loss. And it’s Platinum Championship Wrestling, so fuck it. We’re there.

Angry Matt had used up more gas than planned thanks to our new route, so we stopped at the nicest gas station I have ever seen in my life. It was a Sonoco on McDonough Road (I think) and it was bright and clean, the guy behind the counter was friendly and UFC was playing on a giant Hi-Def TV mounted on the back wall. Angry Matt got gas and I got beer and we got back in the Angrymobile for the final leg of our journey.



Here’s another little tidbit of information: Platinum Championship Wrestling’s Sacred Ground Chapter 2 was being held in the Sharon Baptist Church. Now, I was raised a Baptist and I know a thing or two about the practices of such folk. They do, in general, maintain the position that alcohol consumption is wrong. They also publicly profess to disapprove of dancing, but I can get through three hours of wrestling without doing the Charleston. Wrestling with no beer is just fucking unnatural.

Study Question: Why don’t Baptists make love standing up? (Answer at the end of the essay)

I did, however, think there was a slim chance that beer would be available. The Troublemaker family attended an Oktoberfest celebration at a church last year and – while there was a thinly veiled hostility that encouraged us to keep our visit as brief as possible – beer was plentiful. Also, I reasoned that the event had to be taking place in a church rec center, which was probably barely even on the church grounds and might have some sort of concession stand. There could even be a third party vendor there for the occasion. So beer might happen.

Note: Theme for next year’s Halloween party: Ewoktoberfest.

But I didn’t want to take any chances, so I bought a 12-pack of my trusted friend Miller Lite just to be on the safe side.

When we pulled up the rest of the DCW Hooliganz were already in the parking lot (it was, indeed in a rec center across the street from the church proper) mentally preparing for the event at hand. By which I mean they were loading up on Pabst Blue Ribbon and Red Bull & Vodka. So we were in a church parking lot tailgating before a wrestling show.

Later on, shit got a lot more surreal. Stay with me.

I downed a couple of beers and we headed for the front door. There was a table set up in the front lobby where a young lady that an unmarried man might find quite attractive was selling tickets. I walked up and handed her the printout stating that we had pre-purchased ten ringside tickets at a premium price and she sort of gave me this worried look and went, “Um.”

Me - “Um?”

Attractive Young Lady – “Um. I think the ringside seats might be… sort of… sold out…”

Me – “Ha! Well that’s just fine because, you see, we bought our tickets beforehand. Like, over a month ago. So there have to be seats for us.”

Attractive Young Lady – “Um.”

Me – “Still um?”

Attractive Young Lady – “Here are your tickets and I’m sure one of the guys in an event shirt can help you find some seats!”

Me – “Ringside seats!”

Attractive Young Lady – “Um.”

The rest of the Hooliganz went to deal with the seat situation while I went over to the merchandise stand to buy a shirt. There was no way I was attending PCW’s biggest event without buying a shirt. Despite currently owning somewhere in the neighborhood of 34,000 t-shirts I still find a way to justify buying new ones all the time. Adding to the absurdity is the fact that there are only about five t-shirts that I ever actually wear.

The crew reported back that there were not, in fact, any ringside seats. I hammered down my irritation and pointed out that there were only about three rows of seats, so technically PCW could get away with calling the entire floor ringside. Which is apparently exactly what they were doing. Naturally we chose seats directly behind the enormous PCW Tag Team Season Trophy because otherwise the only thing screwing up my pictures would have been me. Well, me and the Outside Referee; who took up the slack once the trophy was won and out of the way (but the Outside Referee turned out to be a total party triumph later so he gets a pass – the trophy does not).

The venue was incredibly nice inside and out. The exterior looked like the nicest high school gym you’ve ever seen and the inside was a bright, clean basketball court complete with an entrance stage and a pair of huge video screens I will refer collectively to as the Platinum Tron 3000.


There were no more than four rows of seats surrounding the ring, but there was plenty of room. I’m not saying I ever want to drive back to fucking McDonough, but it was a very classy atmosphere for PCW’s big show.

Before I get ahead of myself and into the recap, just know that you are going to be highly disappointed by the pictures for this one. It looks like I used three different cameras, only one of which was any good. I don’t know what the heck I was doing when I was taking pictures, but somehow I used a single camera to screw up in several different ways. I am multi-talented.

Also, if you haven’t figured it out by now this is the color recap. If you want the play-by-play go here. I can’t do that sort of thing. I rely on the ridiculous stuff that surrounds the things I write about to sell my work – style over substance, baby.

First bell was scheduled for 8:00. We got into our seats just after that. After a few minutes of sitting and waiting, I decided I probably had time for one more beer. Hoffman and Evil came with me. The first match was a battle royal anyway and if there’s one thing that’s going to compete with a Grotesque match for my disinterest, it’s a battle royal. Don’t get me wrong – I totally agree with the idea of getting as many guys on the card as possible; it’s just an unfortunate fact that the only battle royal format that works is the Royal Rumble. And I’m pretty sure if any wrestling company whose initials don’t start with “W” and end with “WE” tries to use those rules they’ll get sued so bad they’ll make Paul Heyman look financially sound.

We went out to the parking lot and pounded a couple more beers. I think we spent a lot longer out there than I realized because when we got back in, the match was well underway. So here we go.

Match #1: Platinum Royal

Winner earns the right to challenge any champion on the card for a future title match


I do not know who a lot of these guys are and the program didn’t list them (likely because they weren’t sure who would show up), so this is the one area where I am going to resort to some name fakery.

Okay, so the guys whose names I know for this one are Marco Polo (with the furry bottoms on his tights), Terry “Rocker” Lawler (in the red, white and blue), Phantom (all-white clothes and face paint - no relation), Vandal (in mostly red), De La Vega (tiny guy in tights and a sash) and Seth Delay (blue tights and bandannas on his feet). In addition there was the guy in the red and black singlet that got eliminated about thirty seconds after we walked in, a guy that looked like Necro Butcher on a good day, a guy that looked like Rhino on a bad day, a guy wearing just a wrestling gold mask and plain clothes (what kind of jackass would wear that to a wrestling event?), a karate guy with red hair and two guys I’ve seen before but did not recognize in the context of a battle royal. They’re both in tag teams and are both pretty good – the tall guy in the purple shorts and the squat guy in the green trunks.

Naturally it was all chaos up front. Everybody was whooping the piss out of everybody else and there were quite a few nice elimination teases throughout the whole match. Gold Mask pulled the classic Road Dogg trick of just hanging onto the bottom rope for most of his time in the match. Lawler brawled the crap out of pretty much everybody’s face at one time or another. We kept screaming at Karate Guy to sweep the leg, but he never did. As a result he was eliminated fairly early on. Necro Butcher guy got in a lot of punching-based offense, too. My favorite spot of his was when he just picked up this one dude like he was a fucking baby and carried him around for a minute. Green Trunks got in some nice moves and made an impression, but when it came down to the last three we had De La Vega, Vandal and Seth Delay.
Delay looked beaten and bruised, but when his two opponents rushed him for the quick elimination he held the ropes and flipped both men over the top, eliminating Vandal. He then clobbered De La Vega off the apron for the win!
Except not so fast, junior, because in Platinum Championship Wrestling things are not always what they seem! And this match isn’t over until the guy who eliminated the most people comes back and faces Delay one-on-one. And that man is…
Shit. Vandal. I can’t stand Vandal.
But I have to give credit where credit is due. The guy was solid in the Platinum Royal and close to really good in the singles match against Delay. Despite the action we had just witnessed both men put on a good showing - pulling out submissions, brawling and top-rope moves in what would have been a good match even for two guys who hadn’t just wrestled a whole other match. Vandal got the 1-2-3 and… well… he earned it. I guess. I’ll say this for PCW, they built this guy up right. Good storytelling.
Speaking of storytelling, announcing Saturday night's action was PCW HCIC Stephen Platinum and... um... another guy that was also pretty good. Somebody help me out here.
Match #2:
Dany “Human Hand Grenade” Only vs.
Vordell “Shooter” Walker
Two bad motherfuckers beat the shit out of each other
This was the match I was most looking forward to. Mainly because of this:
Whoops, no. I meant this:
Man! How do these pictures just keep popping up? I of course meant this:
Okay, seriously. I was anticipating this match because of this: Only and Walker are two of the strongest players PCW has to offer in my opinion. Walker has killed it both in the ring and on the mic and Only has cut the very best promo (aside from Stephen Platinum) that I’ve heard in PCW to date. The Human Hand Grenade has been solid in the ring every time I’ve seen him, but those were all tag matches or brawls. I really wanted to see what this guy could do in a singles match against somebody as good as Vordell Walker.
Apparently PCW agrees with me about Only’s mic skills because he’s one of the few guys that got a full-on promo video on the Platinum Tron 3000 before his match.
Only is accompanied to the ring by Miss Rachel (who I guess has dropped the hilarious moniker “Rachel Tension”) and a portion of the Empire stable, including Green Trunks.
Walker is escorted to the ring by Righteousness and Badassery.
The match starts with a staredown (I really wish I knew the story behind this one) and devolves into bitch slaps, then some hard forearms from Only to Walker’s back. Some back and forth and brutal-looking clotheslines and Only gets tossed out of the ring right into his Empire buddies, followed by Walker diving right the fuck into everybody. The crowd went “WHOA.” The Shooter wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity for a little illicit outside-the-ring damage, so he roughed Only up a bit and then delivered a chop that I swear should’ve knocked that first font right off of Only’s chest.
Back in the ring and some more back-and-forth action. Only was getting in some offense, but Walker was really taking it to him, even going so far as to attempt the infamous rope walk elbow attack of DOOM. My shitty pictures aren’t doing me any favors here, but I believe Only blocked a crazy-high dropkick to gain the momentum. He worked on The Shooter’s midsection for a while, but then got grounded and locked into one of Walker’s signature moves:
Members of the Empire distracted the ref while Only clearly tapped out. SONUVABITCH!
This led us to end game, where The Shooter clearly had the advantage until he went for an over-the-ropes brainbuster that Only reversed into a pin, assisted by that gorgeous hussy Miss Rachel holding the hero’s ankles. The Human Hand Grenade may be skilled, but he’s still a heel and this was bound to end in douchbaggery. Only ducked out of the ring to celebrate his definite but totally shady win while Vordell Walker did the classic, “I can’t believe that shit just happened to me!” pose in the ring. I think people will pay good money to see Vordell Walker get his revenge.
The bad thing about this match is that it wasn’t long enough. It probably sounds crazy in this day and age, but I wanted a solid half hour or more from these two and I’m not sure we even got ten minutes. I really want to see what they can do. The good thing about the match is that it ended inconclusively, which almost certainly means we’ll see these two fight again. The other good thing about the match is that Miss Rachel’s new hairstyle looked fierce!:
Match #3:
The Washington Bullets
vs.
The Konkrete Gorillaz
To determine PCW’s 2011 Seasonal Tag Team Champions
The only story behind this one is that of two teams of athletes doing their damnedest to prove they’re the best. The Washington Bullets – Jon and Trey Williams – were 2010’s Tag Champs and have an amazing amount of energy and the Gorillaz – Brian Blaze and Geter – are just one of those teams that click and get the crowd going.
As a matter of fact, the Bullets are so well-loved that they got the Magical Japanese Streamer Treatment from the crowd in the Sacred Ground Arena as Trey literally ascended from the Heavens into the ring:
The Gorillaz didn’t get quite the same treatment, but I don’t know what you can expect when your Biker Scout costumes didn’t get finished in time for the big show.
Should’ve saved ‘em for Halloween, fellas.
This match probably had the crowd going more than any other all night. While the Bullets still feel kind of green to me, they’ve given 110% in every match I’ve seen. It’s exciting to watch and Saturday night it was more so due to their opponents. I’m not as much of a fan of the Jay Fury-less Gorillaz, but the crowd always eats up what they do and you can’t help but get into it. Actually, you might get into it to the point where you forget to take pictures. Ahem.
I just know that the Bullets rallied after a tag so hot the ref’s eyebrows got singed and isolated Geter in the ring to hit a double backbreaker immediately followed by a double Diamond Cutter for the win. It was super impressive to see the big man go down like that and made it a decisive, important victory for the young tag team. There’s no doubting the Washington Bullets are absolutely electric and a vital part of PCW. While I don’t see the Konkrete Gorillaz going anywhere anytime soon, I am curious to see if there will be any fallout from the loss. Historically they are a volatile faction.
Next up: Adam Pearce is a dick.
Match #4:
Do or Die” Chip Day
vs.
Adam Pearce
In a “Totally Not For the NWA World Heavyweight Title” Match
Whether he likes it or not, “Do or Die” Chip Day is the DCW Hooliganz’ totem wrestler. So any match that guy is in is going to be a big fucking deal, whether he’s fighting The Rock or some homeless guy Stephen Platinum pulled out of the alley behind the building. Like Vandal.
Fortunately for everybody, Day was fighting a truly magnificent douchebag in the form of NWA World Heavyweight Champion Adam Pearce. As evidenced above, Pearce knows a thing or two about being an absolute dick and his dickery didn’t end with those videos (which played before the match on the Platinum Tron 3000). He got in the ring wearing Ric Flair’s old robe and Jeff Jarrett’s old belt and told Chip Day that he didn’t deserve a shot at the title.
See, this was supposed to be a title match if Day proved himself to King Dickwad of Hand-Me-Down Land over the past couple of months. Day has won every match he’s been in, but Pearce is the heel after all, so he just tucked Jarrett’s title away in the corner and tired to dress Chip down some more. Day wasn’t having none of that shit and Pearce hopped out of the ring for some nice heat. It worked. The crowd was about ready to get up and throw the champ back in the ring themselves when Day took matters into his own hands and went after Pearce himself.
The would-be challenger was on an absolute tear for most of the match. Despite being a bigger man and a bigger dick, Pearce just couldn’t get started against the wily Day. He got in a brief bit of offense and locked in a hand-me-down move – the Steiner Recliner (although, in his defense what move isn’t a hand-me-down?),
but Day got out and ascended to the top turnbuckle to deliver beautiful dropkick that brought the champ down.
You might notice that there are more pictures of this match and they are all strangely decent. Further proof that Chip Day is the DCW Hooliganz’ Chosen One – God blessed my camera hand for this one match.
Pearce finally gained momentum for a brief moment and pulled off a slick throw 
but Day came back and rolled the jerk up for the 1-2-3!
Ladies and gentlemen, your winner – “Do or Die” Chip Day. Who sadly must not watch much wrestling because he climbed the turnbuckle like a nitwit to celebrate and got clubbered from behind by an incensed Pearce, who then delivered a brutal piledriver.
What. A. Dick.
We tried to warn you, Chip; but you just wouldn’t listen. Fully licensed and Georgia Board of Athletic Stuff approved Doctor Melei rushed the ring to inspect the fallen hero, who eventually limped out to a huge ovation.
That match was really entertaining.
Next up was a special surprise in the form of the best-handled award ceremony I have ever seen in person. I only knew Thunderbolt Patterson from the Dusty Rhodes documentary before Saturday night, but there was a very well done video before the ceremony that told me all I needed to know. The awesome part was that PCW realized the video told us all we need to know; so when Stephen Platinum came out to present the plaque he kept it short and sweet. And so did Thunderbolt.
The next match was supposed to be Kyle Matthews versus Davey Richards for the Ring of Honor World Championship, but Richards was in dire need of new Hello Kitty toys and booked a tour of Japan instead. Somebody should tell that guy about the Sanrio store. Anyway, we got a perfectly acceptable replacement in:
Match #5:
The Revelation” Shane Marx
vs.
Kyle Matthews
vs.
Jay Lethal
Trinity Rules Match - Winner gets a ROH Title shot at a future PCW show
The previous three matches each entertained in their own way, but this was the clear Match of the Night. The Hooliganz’ unnatural love for Chip Day aside, Shane Marx is my favorite guy in PCW. While he obviously has a lot more muscle than I do, the guy is a lot closer to my overall physical shape than your typical wrestler but moves like he’s a fucking cruiserweight. There are not a lot of guys with Marx’s combination of power and speed; and when you add that to somebody I can not feel too bad about standing next to you’ve got a dude I can root for. Also, Marx shaved his head since I last saw him and looks much more badass now.
Kyle Matthews (who you may recognize as Terrorist #1)has recently become a favorite as well. He’s stiff and professional and despite the fact that I wasn’t overly familiar with him when he earned what should have been Saturday’s title shot, what I had seen of the guy convinced me not only that he deserved it but that we’d be in for a treat when he faced Richards.
And Jay Lethal… well he’s Jay Fucking Lethal. No longer chained to that Macho Man gimmick that – though impeccably executed – was stale after two weeks. I am never going to complain about Lethal showing up.
I can’t even attempt to describe this match. All three men impressed the shit out of the crowd. I really liked the concept of the Trinity Rules, though the rest of the Hooliganz weren’t too crazy about it. The deal is that when a man gets pinned, they retire to a penalty… uh… chair. The remaining men have five minutes to win the match and if they don’t the eliminated man returns. I thought it created a lot of drama and was a clever natural mechanism to avoid the usual three-way formula where one guy gets thrown out of the ring and just lays there like a fucking idiot for five minutes while the other two fight.
Lethal was eliminated first by Marx. People went nuts and ate up the fact that the Once and Always PCW Champ had eliminated the Big National Star. Matthews and Marx kicked the shit out of each other for five with neither gaining the advantage, so Lethal returned and mixed things up, then took out Marx. There was this great spot where all three men hit super kicks. Matthews tied Lethal up in a beautiful submission, 
then did something that won the match. As it should be – he was supposed to have the ROH title shot in the first place.
This match was exciting and total nonstop action. If you will. All three men put it out there and quite frankly set the bar a little high for the rest of the night. After the match they set Matthews’ ROH Title shot for October 28th, which kind of sucks because that’s one of the Friday shows and I probably won’t be able to go.
Also, it was during this match that Lady Evil noticed something specific about the Outside Referee. He was super touchy with the timekeeper and seemed a little more lively then some other members of the PCW staff.
Intermission
Or
Match #5.1:
The PCW Audience
vs.
Impending Boredom
In a “It Takes A Long Fucking Time For PCW To Set Up A Cage” Match
Yeah. This absolutely killed all the momentum and positive energy that had built up over the past couple of hours.
Seriously – it’s one thing to have an extended break in a place like The Masquerade where the audience can grab a beer or go downstairs for a bit. It’s another thing to do it in a church in the middle of nowhere that has absolutely nothing to offer in the way of diversions.
While I can’t argue the fact that all three cage matches actually made sense (as opposed to the way other companies randomly throw them out there), I think it was a poor decision to throw that kind of dead air time in the middle of you big show. And it didn’t help that everything was already really behind thanks to the overly-long Platinum Royal.
So we went into the sixth match with a crowd that had been given ample opportunity to realize how late it was and how tired we were getting. This was evidenced by the mystery men across from us giving in and removing their masks and by Hoffman resorting to eating a bag of chips he found in the trash:
Not really, but it seemed funnier that way.
Match #6:
Jay Fury
vs.
Nemesis
For the absolutely final very last time in The PCW Steel Cage of DOOM
Both guys are talented, but I’ll be damned if this feud has ever taken off for me. It’s probably my fault for missing out on some of the critical parts that took place at the Friday night shows. From my perspective, though, it all started when the Gorillaz abandoned Fury in the middle of a six-man tag match for seemingly no reason. The last one I saw was the Lights-Out match at The Masquerade back in July and it was a pretty dirty brawl, but I couldn’t get into it.
But Saturday night the action took place in a cage and Nemesis didn’t waste any time in spearing the living fuck out of Fury, tying what appeared to be one of his shirt tassels (a DCW shirt, no less!) around Fury’s neck and trying to hang the guy from the top of the cage. Pretty sick and not a bad attempt at getting the crowd back into things.
There was a bunch of brawling and Fury hit his signature Frogsplash Elbow and the other two Gorillaz came out from the back to look menacing. This one lady was so worried about Geter and Blaze interfering that she ran up the aisle and started yanking on Geter’s shirt. Well, she was either worried about interference or was trying to disrobe the big guy. Either way, this moment did not appear to be a work at all; just a nutty fan.
I’m honestly not clear on how the match ended, but it just sort of did. Nemesis won and the crowd shit on it.  Imean, not in a "bad match" kind of way, but a "we really didn't like that finish" kind of way.
Match #7:
Aisha Sunshine
vs.
Pandora
In a “Some Day These Two Crazy Broads Are Going To Straight-Up Kill Each Other” match inside The PCW Steel Cage of DOOM
This match was supposed to be guest refereed by Daffney, but she wasn’t there. I might have been looking forward to seeing my old high school buddy, but it’s not like she would have been a huge factor in the match anyway. When you throw Pandora and Aisha at each other you’re apparently going to get awesome violence no matter what. I have yet to see a match between these two that wasn’t brutal and memorable.
Pandora came out alone – no members of the Empire accompanied her. This was a nice touch because it really gave off this tough, arrogant, “I’m gonna kick this chick’s fucking teeth in without any help” vibe.
Sunshine came out and tried to pull off a little bit of the hair-pulling crazy thing like Victoria used to do and it didn’t quite work for her. But it didn’t matter because as soon as these two were in the cage they just started it up.
Pandora ran Sunshine into every wall of the cage and then Sunshine returned the favor by picking Pandora up and slamming her back into each side. 
There was all the back and forth pummeling we’ve come to know and love and then the two women ended up at the top of the cage – which was wobbly as fuck and absolutely terrifying – and then fell off the top through the two tables at ringside. It was fucking crazy and I’m glad this guy got video of it.
Since both women hit the floor, the match was ruled a draw and the good news is the feud can continue!
Here’s my wish: that we get two or three more matches out of Pandora and Sunshine. PCW should find another competent female to come out and fuck up their little party and claim she wants in on the Greatest Female Wrestling Feud Of All Time. It really doesn’t matter if this third woman is a name or not, she just needs to be able to go. You’d have all the typical stuff – somebody gets injured (time off), comes back and helps the other out against the newcomer; that kind of stuff. It’d give us probably another year of drama and could culminate in a big three-way at Sacred Ground Chapter 3 next year. You wouldn’t necessarily need a Women’s Title, but something similar to the tag trophy could be done. Just nothing stupid like “Miss PCW” or anything.

Match #8:
Demigod Mason
vs.
Grotesque
For the Platinum Championship Wrestling Championship in The PCW Steel Cage of DOOM
I feel kind of bad for it, but I knew long before the show ran long and the cage took forever to set up that we might not be staying for the main event. I know it’s a shitty thing to leave early, but I cannot stand watching Grotesque, even if he does have Miss Rachel with him.
Mason is solid and has grown on me a lot since the first time I saw the guy (though I still think he needs a better finisher). But no matter how much I wanted him to win the title I could not bear more no-selling and chainsaw chicanery from Grotesque. I get the idea but I can’t support it. Also, I felt pretty sure Mason wouldn’t win this one. I really thought beforehand that Marx would end up taking it back.
So we left. And got a double dose of guilt because we had to pass by Seth Delay and Jay Lethal. I hate for wrestlers to think I’m disrespecting wrestling; a good portion of the reason that this recap has been as straight as I could manage.
Lethal and Delay were totally cool though. Poor Lethal stood there for three pictures while my camera decided to fuck with somebody other than me for a change.
And seriously – can somebody start telling me to keep my tongue in my fucking head when I get pictures? I do the same damn thing every time and then when I look at the pictures the next day after I sober up I realize I look not only idiotic but boring. Also, do you know what price the wrestling gods make you pay for leaving before the last bell? You look fat in all your pictures for the rest of the night.
Okay, remember when we were drinking alcohol and telling illicit stories in the church parking lot before the wrestling event? And I said things got a lot more surreal? Well here we go. Strap in, because shit gets weird now.
Match #69:
DCW Hooliganz
vs.
The Hideaway
In the biggest surprise of the night, gentlemen and gentlemen
I left out a key piece of information from earlier in the night.
Way back when we first got there and we were waiting to give the ticket girl the printout there was this table. The table was mostly bare, but it had programs:
And a little sign that said “Come to the after party!” with directions:
Evil – being the ultimate enabler of the group, the guy that talks people out of their costumes, liquor and sensibility – saw that little sign before anything else, grabbed it and said, “Oh shit. AFTERPARTY!”
I said, “Fuck yeah, after party.”
And that was another factor in our decision to abandon the Main Event. I think it was already 11:30 when we left. We were out of alcohol and ready for some party so we wanted to get a head start on getting to The Hideaway, whatever that was.
Heh. We found out.
After a drive back to downtown Atlanta we arrived at a place that was actually very familiar to me. I worked at the Ansley Mall Wherehouse Music years ago and we were right across the street. We couldn’t quite figure out where exactly The Hideaway was located (thusly living up to its name), so we stopped in the mall parking lot to get our bearings. Angry Matt had an urgent biological need at that point so he went to the nearby gas station to tend to it. The rest of us stood around for a minute to discuss our destination, which Evil looked up on his phone and came up with:
We are Atlanta's OLDEST Gay Bar (still in the same location since 1971).

And things started to come together. I didn’t have the whole picture yet, but the pieces were falling into place. We were obviously where we were supposed to be because I knew from my time at Wherehouse that this area was popular with “gentlemen who prefer gentlemen” as Le Sexoflex might say. This was going to be a hoot and a holler.
But first I needed some nourishment. Angry Matt got back from being denied facilities at the gas station and I pointed out that the nearby bushes and clothing donation unit formed a perfect natural restroom. He headed off and I walked up to the gas station and got a Diet Coke, some Tylenol, Chex Mix and Nutter Butters. This may seem trivial but it’s funny in a minute.
I had never been to a gay bar in my life. Never had a reason. Oh, I’ve been around plenty of the more festive males of our species. I worked at that Wherehouse and The Masquerade/Chamber and Hot Topic and freaking Poster Hut where I once had to explain to some old queen that I’m pretty sure was messing with me how the Nine Gates of Hell worked. I’ve had discussions in which a male co-worker explained the body image issues inherent in being a gay man and also what the deal was with those big black rubber fists they sell at Starship.
So I’ve had my brushes with gay culture. Honestly, Jackass is way gayer than anything I’ve ever seen or heard from an actual homosexual.
But this was different. Previously my experiences had mostly taken place in my world (excepting the Poster Hut thing). This was walking into unfamiliar territory to observe these fanciful folk in their native habitat. This was like a safari; an adventure. It was on like a pot of neckbone.
Somehow we figured out that The Hideaway was behind the mall, in the rear (you make the joke if you want to – I’m classier than that) so we parked back there and beheld the splendor. It actually kind of looked like a weird island fruit stand (I’m not making that joke, either) from the outside. I don’t know why I didn’t get a picture. Well, yeah I do. I had taken my mask off for the car ride and it honestly does take me out of character a little bit. I hadn’t put it back on because you don’t just walk in some place in Downtown Atlanta wearing a mask without expecting to get shot.
We walked in and the place was fairly standard. Dimly but pleasantly lit, pool tables, a bar, tables and booths to sit and drink. It had a cozy feel like a mountain cabin and there was even a fireplace up front. There were probably twenty or so people in there, minus the bartenders. Nineteen of them were dudes. Mostly older dudes just hanging out and enjoying the company of other dudes.
We took a table near the front. Evil overheard the bartender say something about wrestlers and went over to investigate because that’s what he does. It turned out this was indeed the place and the bartender had spoken to whoever his PCW contact was not that long ago. They were on their way. Also, there were sandwiches in the back for the after party.
We all got beers and whatnot and sat down to discuss Sacred Ground. Eventually Angry Matt mentioned he was hungry and Gnoll agreed that he could definitely go for one of those sandwiches. So Evil went back over to speak to his new friend and not two minutes later dudes were bringing these huge platters of sandwiches and garnishes out of the back. They set it all up on the table behind us and at about the same time the referees arrived. One of them was just this dude but the other one was Outside Referee who might be more accurately referred to as Out Referee if you catch my meaning.
Angry Matt didn’t want to be the first guy to grab a sandwich, so I reached back and started prying the lid off of what looked like a bunch of roast beef on wheat. Other Referee planted his hand on top and said something that I didn’t catch, but his meaning was clear: “No sandwiches for you, mister.”
That’s cool. Maybe they were just for the wrestlers.
But then Out Referee came over and recognized all of us and explained we were at the show and everything was cool. They were the first ones there so we hung out until everybody else arrived. And we had sandwiches. Awesome sandwiches. At one Point Other Referee had to go outside for something and asked us to keep an eye on his beer. No problem. No problem until Out Referee came over and started talking in a very animated fashion and knocked that beer clear across the table and onto the floor.
Out Ref: “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! I owe you guys another beer! Here – I’ll get one, what was it?”
Me and Gnoll: “Oh, no. That wasn’t ours, that was actually the other ref’s. He just stepped outside for a second.”
Out Ref: “Oh? It’s his – well that’s my husband and he doesn’t need any more anyway!”
And he took that bottle and what remained in it and put it on the sandwich table. I don’t know if Other Ref ever did find out what happened. I hope he doesn’t think we’re shitty beer guards or something.
There were these two older dudes sitting at the bar that my brain labeled as Gay Statler and Gay Waldorf. Every time I went to get a beer they would ask me what was going on. Did I mention I had my mask on at this point? Well I did. Which is a pretty good indication of how drunk I was. So anyway, these two guys would ask me if I wrestled, what did I write about, when were the wrestlers getting here (only they said it like, “Rrrrresssslers” with a little growl on the “R”. They were nice guys who also explained the two doors beside the bar to Gnoll.
The right door was a unisex bathroom with a lock on the door.
The left door was a unisex bathroom with no lock on the door “for whatever”.
I’m a pretty open-minded guy and generally don’t care what other people want to do with their sex organs, but I wasn’t about to go in a room that was labeled as “For Whatever” that didn’t have a lock on the door. But I did need to make use of one of those rooms.
I apologize for the amount of scatological content that ends up in these little narratives. But it almost always comes into play because these tales I tell generally take place over the course of many hours and it’s just my life that I can’t use a public restroom without having some kind of fucking story to go along with it.
So I went into the locking room and found a cleaner than average restroom, did my business as quickly as possible, washed my hands and exited. And of course the one female in the whole fucking place besides Lady Evil is standing there waiting to go in and brother, let me tell you – I did not exactly leave that place smelling like lilacs. I do believe she left immediately afterwards because I never did see her again.
The wrestlers showed up after that, including new PCW Champ Mason, Shane Marx, Marco (Marko?) Polo, the Bullets, CHIP MOTHERFUCKING DAY, Pandora and Aisha as well as all sorts of other PCW talent – Miss Rachel, Kurt Kilgore and The Man himself – Stephen Platinum.
One of the first things I ended up doing was trying to explain to Marco Polo why I write the way I do. He had read my last recap where I described the match as ending when a midget disguised as a baby gave him a hurricanrana and couldn’t figure out why I had written that because that isn’t at all what had happened. I explained, well, this basically and I think we’re cool now. Cool enough that we got a picture, anyway.
Chip Day sat down with us for a while and Evil explained the whole “Muffin Top” thing (this is our affectionate name for Day due to the effect his trunks have on his abdomen) and credited me for it. And also explained that we had no intention of stopping anytime soon.
I told Shane Marx I wanted to buy him a beer for being awesome. He seemed a little uncomfortable with it, but said okay and requested a Budweiser. I went to the bar and leaned over to wait to order. Pandora was right next to me and leaned over and said in her thick but not off-putting New York accent, “Did I just hear you say you were going to buy me a drink?” and I just realized as I wrote that it sounds a lot more lascivious than it actually was. But I bought her the two drinks she just ordered and then she asked if I was going to give them a good write-up, which I’m not going to lie was pretty awesome. Pandora was one of several people that night that acknowledged my stuff. On the way back to the table I handed Marx his Bud and told him thanks for being awesome or something. Yeah – I’m a total mark.
We hung out and drank a shitload and had an absolute blast at Atlanta’s Oldest Gay Bar.
There was some weirdness at one point with this one dude. He had stood out as soon as we got there because all the other guys were just sort of dudes. By which I mean there were no outward clues as to their orientation. For the most part The Hideaway could have passed for a standard bar if not for the conspicuous lack of vagina-equipped patrons. But this one guy was just so stereotypical – super-tight black shirt, funky jeans; he had a handlebar mustache, for Pete’s sake. The guy looked a little sketchy all night. At one point I looked over and he had his shirt off and was doing push-ups on one of the tables. Not competing with anybody or anything (which, by the way, is the sort of thing I would imagine goes on in gay bars), just by himself looking around and doing push-ups. Little weird.
So this guy - we’ll call him Dutch – kind of runs outside at one point. I’m only peripherally aware of it because I’ve got something else going on, but Evil filled me in later because he decided to follow the guy outside to make sure he was okay. Because that’s the kind of guy Evil is. Dude was most definitely not okay and was apparently in a very Belushi way. Evil and Other Ref (I think) tried to stop him from driving, but Dutch was apparently either very fast or seemed likely to get violent (I can’t remember which) and hopped in his car and peeled out.
Evil came back in defeated, but knowing he had done what he could.
Stephen Platinum came over and talked for a bit. He seemed very interested in our input about the show and is just a super cool guy. I can’t remember if I ever told this story or not, but the first time I talked to him I thought he was just some dude backstage. I was asking about a Lucha team that had just wrestled and we ended up talking about something for a minute. Then he realized his music was playing and he took off. I was all like, “Oh, shit – he’s actually one of the performers.” Still didn’t realize he was the guy behind the whole thing. We’ve talked a couple of times since and his earnestness always impresses me.
The night was winding down by then – it was about 4 in the morning – and we decided it was time to hit the road. We’d had fun with our new friends, but it was time to return to our regular lives full of jobs and children and low calorie yogurt with active cultures.
But I had to get one more picture before I left. I’ve got dozens of signed pictures of wrestlers. I’ve met quite a few and have pictures with Austin Creed, AJ Styles and Gail Kim. But my favorite wrestling-related picture by far is this one:
Those two badass chicks have put on one of the best matches on the card every single time I’ve seen them and show no signs of slowing down or getting stale. And I’ve got a picture with the both of them. That’s pretty fucking cool. How many people out there have a picture with two bitter rivals like that?
Oh, and Evil told me Lady Evil and Gnoll saw this one guy sucking another guy’s dick out in the parking lot when we left. And I thought nobody could be having more fun than we were.
I wonder why they didn’t just use the “For Whatever” room.
If you want more mostly terrible pictures from the event, please check out my Facebook page.

Answer to Study Question: Somebody might think they’re dancing.

Until next time, stay creepy
-Phantom

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