2007-05-28 - 11:34 p.m.

I mentioned recently that I bought a DVD – The Self Destruction of the Ultimate Warrior. Well, it’s incredible. A completely one-sided hatchet job that doesn’t so much stick the knife in as eviscerate the muscle-bound lummox, Black Dahlia style. You are left in no doubt that the man once known as Jim Hellwig was a buffoon of enormous proportions, a selfish and dangerous performer who had scant regard for either the boys or the business. Various wrestling alumni line up to take potshots at this bizarre relic of 80s pop culture, and although I’m sure much of the claims can be refuted, it’s absolutely hilarious to watch. He may have been just ‘another dumb guy from the gym who thought he could make some money out of wrestling’ in Bobby Heenan’s words, but, man, what an act! Looking back it really struck me just how strange wrestling was in the 1980s. It’s often been said that Vincent Kennedy McMahon is a modern day P.T Barnum, a shrewd impresario at the helm of a freak show, peddling garbage to gawping marks. A monstrous man, certainly, but a remarkable one. Just think about what he sold to make his millions. How on earth did people buy this ‘macabre cartoon show come to life’? You assemble a crew of huge, long haired beefcakes, give them costumes and silly names, pump them full of steroids and then make them pretend to hit each other. Slowly. People went nuts for this stuff.

There were no shortage of ‘roided up monsters lumbering around back then. Many of them weren’t particularly talented but size was everything (this is the 80s remember) and if you were big and loud enough, there was a good chance you could make it as a performer in Vince’s travelling circus. By far the loudest, and certainly the strangest of these monsters, was The Ultimate Warrior. He really was something else. I watched his ludicrous routine with aching sides, dumbfounded at how he got away with it. It’s undeniably invigorating, though. Hearing the dramatic heavy metal riff that signalled his appearance and seeing the whole arena go absolutely batshit crazy, my pulse started racing. ‘Weighing in at 280lbs, from Parts Unknown, this is THE ULTIMATE WARRIOR!’ By the time the Warrior had sprinted to the ring, violently shaken the ring ropes and charged about, beating his breasts and shouting like a maniac, I was pumping my fists and shouting right back. WAAAAAAAH! RARRRRRGGHHHH! YEAAAHHH! All this before the match even started. The roar of the greasepaint, the smell of the crowd, it all came flooding back.

Of course the downside to all this lunatic energy was that by the time the match started the Warrior was already completely blown up. This, coupled with a lack of any discernible ability to work a match, meant that the Warrior’s bouts consisted of little more than him throwing a couple of clotheslines, lifting his opponent above his head, carelessly dropping him, jumping on him and pinning him. His hapless partner would have to do all the work, bouncing around the ring like a jumping bean in order to make the Warrior look like the unstoppable juggernaut he was meant to be. As for his promos… well they really do defy belief. With his veins looking close to explosion the Warrior would babble an endless stream of absolute gibberish at the top of his lungs, seemingly made up as he went along. There’s no way you could write this shit. Of course now they’ve got a lot of script writers who probably wish they were writing for King of Queens instead, but back then they just let Ultimate do his thing. It sounded awesome when you were a kid, but now you watch with a mixture of hilarity and confusion. Most wrestlers would just issue a few tough-guy threats and then sign off with a catch phrase. If you were Jake Roberts you would hiss biblically derived Southern gothic proclamations like a child molester. I still remember him accusing The Million Dollar Man of ‘wallowing in the mires of avarice.’ If however, you were the Ultimate Warrior, you’d be pacing around like a caged animal, ranting away forever in a bizarre sci-fi argot, steroids and self belief rumbling angrily through your veins. You really need to see this stuff: take this rather terrifying stream of snarling nonsense about Hulk Hogan:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_Qgw3YSNtg&NR=1

Here’s one of his shorter monologues concerning his tedious feud with fellow inflatable beefcake Hercules:

‘HERCULES! NOTHING HAS BEEN ACCOMPLISHED! YOU KNOW THAT AS WELL AS I! NO WATER HAS BEEN THROWN ON THE FIRE, ONLY BIGGER LOGS AND BIGGER TREES THAT ME AMD YOU HAVE THE POWER TO RIP OUT OF THE GROUND AND THEN THROW INTO THE FORREST! AND THE FLAMES, THE FLAMES ARE BURNING, HERCULES, AND ONLY ME AND YOU CAN PUT THEM OUT! OR CONTINUE TO MAKE THEM RISE! HERCULES WE CAN TURN IT UP OR RAISE THE HEAT UP, BUT EITHER WAY, HERCULES, YOU AND I ARE THE ONES TO DECIIIIIIIIIIIIDE!’

Steady on old bean! Can you imagine if other sportsmen carried on like that? Imagine if Alex Ferguson and Jose Mourinho issued challenges like that to each other before the cup final. It would certainly make things a bit livelier than all that ‘each game as it comes’ stuff. I’ll say one thing for him, though: he totally made that gimmick believable. Even today I can’t imagine the Warrior doing day to day stuff like going to the bank or making a cup of coffee. I still picture him in his face paint and swimming trunks, running about and yelling his head off for the rest of eternity.

Seeing as it’s the Warrior, we’ll end with a puzzle. See if you can guess which of the following statements about our subject is true:

- The Warrior was put under a curse by voodoo man Papa Shango causing green slime to ooze from his head.
- The Christmas issue of the Warrior’s comic book features, ‘no dialogue, monologue, or text boxes. Inexplicably, Warrior attacks the North Pole, usurps Santa Claus’s authority over the elves, and in the final frame, which gained the comic its enduring popularity, a sweaty Warrior forces Santa into bondage gear and poses beside him.’
- He legally changed his name to ‘Warrior’ in 1993
- He now works as a right-wing speaker and is quoted as saying ‘queering don’t make the world go round’ during a speech at the university of Connecticut.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I can now reveal… they’re all true! Shine on, crazy diamond.

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