Platinum Championship Wrestling Sacred Ground Chapter III 9/29/2012

I can’t do my whole recap right now because I had to go home and go straight to bed rather than uploading my pictures. Getting home at 1 AM and having to get up at 3:30 AM doesn’t leave a whole lot of room for such things.

But I do want to get some initial thoughts down about last night because it was an incredible night and also because this is the first time I have ever written about a wrestling event the day after it happened. I am extremely tired right now, as it is 7:19 in the morning and I have had about two hours of sleep in the last twenty-eight hours. We’ll see how this goes. The really awesome part is that I have five days worth of Halloween posts to finish and polish up after I do this. I think the first week of 31 Days of Halloween is going to be pretty terrible. Of course, we’ll know by the time this posts.

             First of all, Porterdale, GA is a whole lot further away from work than it is from home. I mean, I already knew that, but driving home last night/this morning wasn’t bad at all. I could see doing that a couple of times a month.

The actual venue in Porterdale is great. The hall is a bit narrow, but that just meant I was extra-close to the ring and able to get some great pictures of Kyle Matthews’ Fancy Booty for Lori. Otherwise it’s a good size (and I mean that in a good way, not the way ladies mean about a penis) and a very cool setup. Despite the fact that I’ve watched a ton of video of matches from there, I never quite grasped the way the place was.

Imagine a GameStop with a really high ceiling that was wide enough for a wrestling ring with about five feet on either side. You walk in the front door and the ring is about twenty feet back. There’s another thirty feet or so on the other side of the ring. Toward that back side on the right is the curtain where the wrestlers come out and beyond that is a table where Jonathan Williams, Larry Goodman (I am assuming here – I have never met Mr. Goodman, but there was a guy diligently notating everything), and Matt Hankins are set up to do their thing. I was going to sit back there and take part, but I just couldn’t be that far away from the action.

But before I get too far into that, I just want to mention how awesome every single person I talked to was. Before I entered the venue I spoke to some of the Porterdaliens. Now, I take wearing the mask sort of semi-seriously. Like, if I’m going to wear it I am going to keep it on. So I arrived beside The Main Event – the venue where Sacred Ground III took place – and had a couple of adult beverages. Then I put the mask on out in the parking lot. I figure if you’re in the general vicinity of a wrestling show people are going to expect that sort of thing. But I had never been to Porterdale before and I wasn’t too sure if people might want to hit me with sticks or something. You never know. But quite the opposite happened. People knew me.

I’ve mentioned before that it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy when people know my work; particularly complete strangers. So it was just crazy to be in this utterly foreign place and not only have people know Needless Things, but to have them inviting me to cookouts and offering their couches up for future Porterdale trips. And it’s not because I’m all super-awesome or anything; these people were just great.

Once we got to the ticket guy I explained that I had bought the cheap-o ticket because I hadn’t even been sure I would get there in time to take advantage of the whole premium seating deal.

I can’t remember if I explained this in older posts or not, but there were $10 tickets and $20 tickets. The cheap ones get you in the door and then you’re on your own. But for ten dollars more you got a shirt and “Premium Seating”, meaning you got to pick your seat early.

So I asked the ticket fella if I could give him ten bucks and upgrade and he said no problem. I spoke to that guy a couple of times over the course of the evening and he was a very nice guy. So anyway, I decided I wanted the best seat possible and of course I wanted a shirt. Though I did not, in fact, get a shirt. There was some kind of weird confusion that I still don’t quite understand but I have faith I’ll be able to get my hands on one.

We got inside to this sort of waiting corral and I spied the ring through a side door. Jonathan Williams had previously asked if I wanted to do a little commentary on his live broadcast of the show and of course I did. Any opportunity to run my mouth. I spoke to him briefly before entering the corral and he said to come by his table beside the entrance area. So I stood in the corral and thought to myself, “Well, he didn’t say when. Maybe he meant now. I could just go in now. Sure. They’re not letting people in, but he said to come by the table.”

Let me explain what was going on my head.

I don’t ever presume. Or want to intrude. Or try to take any kind of advantage in any way. I don’t ever want to be the guy who goes shoving his way into somewhere whether he is wanted or not. I know some people who do this kind of thing and are, quite frankly, very good at it. They don’t ever seem to feel unwanted and actually don’t ever seem to be unwanted. They stroll right into any situation like they belong there and it works for them. But I just can’t do that.

Maybe because I’m 6’4” and wearing a purple wrestling mask.

But last night I felt different about it. I don’t ever do anything that might interfere in any way with work. I do not go out on nights when I have to work the next day. I can’t. I get up at 3:30 in the morning. It’s fucking ridiculous. It does not matter how early you go to bed, humans simply were not meant to be waking up at that time. But I get home around 6:45, eat dinner, and am in bed by 9:00. This is all totally against my nature because left to my own devices I stay up until 4 AM, but you do what you have to do to keep the paychecks coming.

So anyway, it was a very big deal for me to be out in the midst of three consecutive shifts. And I was damn well going to make the most of it. So I went on in.

The first person I ran into was Hayden Young. He was pumped. I had already picked up the Porterdaliens’ enthusiasm via the equivalent of a contact high, but talking to Young got me more excited. He told me there were eleven matches and was clearly excited about the night.

Chuck Porterfield is a phenomena in the town of Porterdale. There were people in Chuck t-shirts. I could just imagine the guy rolling into town in the Chuck Wagon with all the Chuckamaniacs running wild in the streets.

Sorry, I just really wanted to use “Chuck Wagon”.

Chuck greeted me after that and then somebody tapped me on the shoulder or grabbed my arm or something and it was Rick Michaels.

This guy was once part of The Exotic Ones, the tag team that was so damned good that they were not only a big part of the reason I now follow PCW, but also inspired me to buy the first indie wrestling t-shirt I ever owned (DCW doesn’t count – that’s kind of not really indie wrestling).

Rick told me he had read my previous post about PCW and that it meant a whole lot to him for me to have said the things I did about his matches. He thanked me for it and shook my hand, then pulled me into a hug. The guy clearly meant what he was saying and I almost got a little misty. To have anything I’ve done mean anything to somebody is pretty awesome, particularly somebody in a profession I admire so much. I thanked him in return and told him how much I appreciated what he does.

I spoke with photographer extraordinaire Harold Jay Taylor next – while trying not to stare enviously at his camera – and he filled me in on Porterdale and how shows were there and whatever. I strongly feel he’s going to need to write a history of PCW one day, because that guy has a lot of information.

And then Stephen Platinum walked over.

I like to think I’m pretty honest. I try not to heap undue praise on anybody and I certainly don’t ever want to ever come off like I’m just sucking up to anyone.

I think anybody that has had a conversation with Platinum would agree that he has a certain presence. This aura of enthusiasm that just makes him exciting to talk to. It’s like he rolled a D20 when he was born and got a +18 charisma. You want to talk to the guy and when he wants to talk to you, you listen. I can see why the PCW talent grows the way they do.

So we chatted for a minute and I said absolutely nothing significant.

Actually, I’d like everybody to know something – Saturday night was a huge deal for me. Between the big event atmosphere, the incredible enthusiasm of the Porterdaliens, the warm reception from the PCW crew I spoke with, and the fact that I had been up for around twenty hours by the time the show was over I was pretty much high as a kite the whole time. So if I spoke to you and seemed like I might be kind of an idiot, that was why. I mean, I am kind of an idiot, but I can usually carry on better conversations than I managed last night. Also it was really loud in the Porterdale Wrestling Arena.

While I’m speaking about not gushing over anybody too much, I’d like to mention how glad I was to see the announcer from the Academy Theater – Mort, I think? That guy is awesome. Next time you go to a wrestling show, try to really watch the ring announcer and see just how much he contributes to the show. There’s a lot going on there that I bet most people don’t even notice.

I said hello to a couple more people and then went back to Jonathan and company’s table to speak with Team All-You-Can-Eat. All of the other people that weren’t big assholes that just walked in the door semi-uninvited started filing in at that point and I decided I had better get a seat. Fortunately there was an empty right in front of one of the ringposts. I asked one of the Porterdaliens I had been talking to before if it was taken and he enthusiastically invited me to have a seat. I believe Pandora’s family was on the other side of me.

Side Note: Okay, from here on out everything is being written a few days later and I am slightly more coherent than I was the day after Sacred Ground III. I had intended to get some thoughts down about each match, but it just didn’t happen so you get the full deal now. I had also intended to post the above stuff as its own thing, but that didn’t happen either so you now get eighty thousand-plus words all in one shot.

Stephen Platinum came out to welcome everybody to Sacred Ground III and to point out the fact that there were eleven matches scheduled and that, yes, eleven matches seems like an awful lot but they will be worth your while. He said he had no idea when it would all be over, but that the Main Event was the biggest thing ever in the history of Our Great Sport and we should all really stick around for it. Then this happened:

Then the Empire came out with Jeff G. Bailey in the lead and the Freemans looking like they were dressed up for their Sears Christmas portrait. I can’t actually say anything about Jonathan Malick because he looked fairly normal compared to his Empire allies. Naturally Jeff G. Bailey had to present a counterpoint to Stephen Platinum’s energetic, enthusiastic endorsement of the evening’s event.

“Blah, blah, blah, Empire. Blah, blah, blah, Shane Marx.”

And on like that for quite some time. It’s no wonder the damn thing didn’t end until after midnight.

Platinum Royal

The winner of this match earned a shot at whichever title remained after the Main Event.

Empire Upper Management stayed in the ring to welcome all of Team Empire out. And then something really confusing happened.

Dwight Power was the first guy out. I was happy to see him, as he has the funniest name in all of professional wrestling. But then “Showtime” Erik Jones came out. And Big Masked Guy. And Master Jae. And “Dynamite Soul” Eric Walker. And Fifth Column, who may or may not have wrestled more than anybody else that night. But that’s neither here nor there.

Shouldn’t a certain number of Empire guys (four, possibly five depending on Fifth Columns ethnicity; though I’m thinking not) had a pretty big problem with one of their supposed teammates? And doesn’t standing in a ring with four black fellows while being named “Dwight Power” qualify you as either having the biggest balls on the planet or being the dumbest motherfucker on the planet?

But then it occurred to me – Dwight Power’s name isn’t actually any kind of play on “White Power”. He is quite literally promoting “Dwight Power” – the natural, inborn superiority of people named “Dwight”. If I knew for sure he was going to be at the next Porterdale show I’d make a sign with Dwights Schulz, Eisenhower, Yokum, and I guess I’d have to research more. But I’d put those pictures on it and write “Power” underneath.

Sorry – that was stupid.

Next out was “Marvelous” Marko Polo and Crown Jewel Records, which apparently now consists of about eighty-three people, two of whom carried The Marvelous One to the ring on their shoulders. That was kinda fantastic, but would have been better if they’d actually had a sedan chair like Tupac in the “All Around the World” video.

I will take any excuse I can to reference that song.

Out of that whole crew, only Polo and “Mr. Pump Yo Brakes” Steve Goins were actually in the match. Honestly, they could have just had a Crown Jewels Royal.

Next out was Johnny DANGAAAAAAAA! and then I decided I maybe didn’t want to use up my camera battery taking pictures of every single person entering the Platinum Royal, then I had to take a picture of Lee Roy because he was Shredder:

Sylar Cross hit next, then Tommy (Daniels), The Witness, and then…

Vandal! I’m not sure why he’s been out for so long, but he has. Good to see this guy back in action. Dude got a big response.

And action it was, as things started immediately.

I don’t know how anybody could possibly recap a battle royal very well. I know this was the one match where my proximity to the ring worked against me. Lee Roy and Dwight Power were the first eliminated and one of the referees had to physically eject Power from the ringside area. Master Jae went out at one point, followed by a perturbed Mr. Pump Yo Brakes.

The endgame started when it came down to Fifth Column, Sylar Cross, Erik Jones, and Marko Polo. Fifth Column did a lot of standing around and watching until Polo and Jones got near the ropes, then he took the opportunity to dump both men over, eliminating them. And then Fifth Column realized he had just left himself alone in the ring with the Human Stampede, Sylar Cross (that’s not really his nickname – I just thought it sounded appropriate). 

Cross got fired up and was unleashing some red and yellow fury on the mystery member of Empire until that dirty little ass weasel Jonathan Malick stepped up onto the apron. Cross was rightly enraged, but temporarily forgot about his opponent. Fifth Column once again took advantage of a situation and dumped Sylar over the ropes, winning the Platinum Royal and a title shot!

YOUR WINNER – The Fifth Column

I fully expected Fifth Column to unmask and reveal his identity (Hayden Young is my guess, but who knows if that’s who it really was or if that person is who it will end up being or if we’ll ever even find out). He didn’t.

“The Attraction” Hayden Young

Vs.

“Do Or Die” Chip Day

This match had so much stank on it you couldn’t clean it up with a whole tub of Handi-Wipes. Young and Day used to be tag partners. Young started to get a little heelish and Day didn’t like it. Young turned on Day and became possibly my favorite douchebag in wrestling. Which is tough for me, because Chip Motherfucking Day is awesome. I definitely wanted to see Young get his ass handed to him, but I knew that wasn’t likely because Chip Day is not in the habit of winning matches.

The Attraction started off by delivering a hard slap to his opponent. Day shrugged it off and sort of smiled, then the punches started flying back and forth. Young took control early on and kept it. Like, to the point where I almost believed Day might win. Not really, but almost. If you don’t follow wrestling… well, you’re probably not reading this. But usually when somebody is getting their ass beat really bad in the beginning of a match, there’s a better than average chance they’ll come back and win.

Day finally turned the tables by avoiding Young’s signature corner clothesline. He slipped out of the way, leaving The Attraction hung up in the ropes and then delivered a sick high kick as Young recovered:

(I really wish that picture was better)

Day got off a couple more moves, but Young grounded him in the corner and hit a fakey boot to the face, followed by a vicious actual boot to the face. Things went back and forth after that, with neither man gaining a clear advantage.

Young went to the top rope only to be thrown off:

Then Day landed a knee to the jaw:

After a failed pin attempt Young got Day on the mat and hit a Frogsplash:

And got the 1-2-3.

YOUR WINNER – “The Attraction” Hayden Young

After the match, Young made a big show of stalking the fallen Day. Finally, he raised Day up and went to deliver what I thought was going to be a low blow or a clothesline or maybe just a dirty cockpunch; but was instead a handshake. Which I thought would turn into a DDT or a kick to the testicles or a belly-to-belly suplex; but didn’t. It was just a, “Good match, broseph,” handshake.

I am very, very disappointed in you, Hayden Young.

Washington Bullets

Vs.

Daisho

PCW Tag Team Season Semifinals

I did not know this match was happening. And HOLY SHIT. The last time I saw the Bullets face Daisho was at the Masquerade and the Bullets won by count out. That shit wouldn’t be happening at the Big Show, so I was stoked about this one.

I didn’t put the camera down for this match, but I did have trouble keeping up with taking pictures. It was really fucking good.

Vordell Walker of Daisho started things off against Trey Williams of the Bullets. And then I totally lost track of what was going on. Both of these teams are at the top of their respective games and I honestly wasn’t sure how this match was going to go. I went into Sacred Ground fully expecting the Bullets’ promised “3peat” – they had won the Tag Team Season Cup the previous two years and are without a doubt the most capable tag team in PCW. But Kyle Matthews and Vordell Walker are two of the toughest, best technicians I’ve seen. I didn’t know they were a factor. It put a little doubt in my mind about the Bullets’ chances.

There were lots of tags in and out – particularly between Walker and Matthews. Those two are masters of tag team psychology – they are constantly tagging in and out and always seem capable of controlling their opponents’ tags. The only way you are going to get out of the ring if Daisho wants to keep you in there is by being faster or more aggressive than them. And that’s a tall order.

But the Bullets are like magic in that ring and managed to control the match just as much as Daisho. The Williams brothers use teamwork like Thor uses his hammer. It’s a weapon. No opportunity to weaken the opponent is missed, no motion is wasted. So when the Bullets did get away from Daisho’s control, they inflicted equal amounts of damage to what they had just received.

The action was non-stop. This was a tag match like no other I’ve seen. You can almost always count on a “face in peril” beatdown. Sometimes this hypes the crowd up, but if it isn’t executed perfectly it can really bog a good match down. Not a concern with this match. There was a brief period where Trey just couldn’t make the tag, but it was still action-packed and featured none of the punching then standing around and gloating that are trademarks of the sequence.

Once the elder Williams brother did get the tag he brought the fire. A dropkick to Vordell Walker’s face broke up the submission hold the Daisho member had been applying to Trey. From there both Bullets laid into Daisho, finally hitting their trademark finish – the Marion Barry – on Walker and getting the win!

YOUR WINNER – The Washington Bullets

This was an absolutely awesome tag team match – living up to every expectation I had for Bullets vs. Daisho. The action never stopped and it truly felt like either team could win throughout. After the match, both teams exhibited for-real Good Sportsmanship and shook hands and embraced. Then we went straight into the next Tag Team Season match.

Brian Blaze & Geter

Vs.

Corey Hollis & Jacob Ashworth w/ Screamin’ Marty Freeman of Empire

PCW Tag Team Season Semifinals

You might think the tag matches should be split up. I did initially. Back when I used to fantasy book the SmackDown video games I did everything I could to avoid putting tag matches back-to-back. But this match was a completely different animal from the last match.

Obviously Ashworth and Hollis are straight-up Lawful Evil. But Blaze and Geter are Chaotic Neutral and that makes for a very interesting match, particularly when you factor in the size of Geter and Ashworth. These are two big men who can go. I was very interested in seeing that clash happen.

So naturally the match starts with Hollis facing off against Geter. I do believe the whole room laughed for about three minutes straight. Hollis made a show of finding a plan of attack. Then he got thrown around the ring a whole bunch. He ended up tossed into the corner in front of me at one point and I couldn’t help but yell, “C’mon Corey! Go get him! You can do it!” He turned around and said, “I know – just give me a second…”

Then he tagged in Ashworth, who looked like he was going to make a go of it. HE threw some clotheslines, went for a sort of spear, and even went behind the big man for what could have been an attempted German suplex (yes – really). Geter finally got sick of that nonsense and tagged Blaze in.

Blaze had the advantage for a while, throwing Ashworth into the corner and punishing Hollis briefly. But then the Empire teamwork kicked in and Blaze ended up outside at the mercy of Freeman and Ashworth while Hollis distracted the ref and Geter. This time we did get the extended Face In Peril sequence, but it worked. Geter was going absolutely nuts trying to get the tag, but Ashworth and Hollis stayed on Blaze and kept him away from his corner.

And then Blaze German suplexed Hollis into the turnbuckles in front of me and it was sick as fuck:

Both men were down, but we all knew the Big Man was gonna get tagged in. And he was; at the same time as Ashworth. Geter roared like an enraged beast and just demolished the smaller – but still large – man, finishing his assault with a massive back suplex. Hollis came back in and once again provided a distraction. As Geter grabbed Hollis - his huge hand almost encircling the man’s neck – Ashworth came from behind and grabbed Ashworth in a Full Nelson. I honestly thought he was going to try for a Dragon Suplex, but instead he slammed Geter down on the mat, setting the big man up for a splash from the top turnbuckle from Hollis.

But something terrible must have happened to Hollis after that, because the next shot I have is Blaze dropping a big elbow on him and then Geter hitting Ashworth with a sidewalk slam and getting the pin.

YOUR WINNERS – Geter & Brian Blaze

Things just got a lot more interesting, as I don’t think I’ve ever seen any combination of the Gorillaz/We Are 3 take on the Bullets. I could be wrong, but even if I am that’s going to be a heck of a match.

While Blaze and Geter celebrated inside the ring, it looked like Hollis and Screamin’ Marty were giving Ashworth some shit for getting pinned. I’m curious to see where that goes.

Rick Michaels

Vs.

Simon Sermon

Michaels came out first to tremendous boos. He had some fancy new entrance attire that I have to give the guy props for.

Then Simon Sermon danced his way out of the back and paused for a moment to boogie with Phantom Troublemaker:

(Thanks to Crystal Anderson for capturing that magic moment – I owe you one. I will refrain from making fun of your husband’s white jeans for exactly 1 (one) recap.)

As I said on Facebook shortly after – that was my Main Event.

This is a match I never wanted to see.

As I wrote on my ode to PCW, The Exotic Ones were my favorite tag team – in the indies or on TV – from the time I first saw them at the Masquerade until the time I stopped seeing them. I’m not sure when they disbanded or how it happened – must have been before I was going to the Academy shows – but the first time I saw evidence that they had broken up was a couple of months ago when Rick Michaels came out to be a jerk to Simon Sermon. It was one of the few times I was really crushed by something that happened in wrestling.

I’m not trying to sound like Mr. Knows The Business here, but I do tend to be able to separate my base emotions from my enjoyment of the sport. Yeah – I get into things and I like it when one of “My Guys” wins. But I’m not usually so invested that things actually disappoint me. But seeing Sermon and Michaels in conflict that night bummed me out. For real. Especially coming out of nowhere.

And then there’s the whole thing where I have to boo the guy who had just said some really nice things to me not an hour ago.

But whatever – fuck that prick. He turned his damn back on Simon Sermon and I want blood!

This match was total old school all the way and I loved it. It reminded me very much of the matches I’ve watched over and over again from my Ric Flair, Dusty Rhodes, and old WCW DVDs. It was just two tough-as-nails sumbitches beating each other up. It was suplexes, elbows, and back-and-forth action the whole time.

Sermon would work an arm, then Michaels would respond with a suplex. Michaels would whip Sermon into a corner, but meet an elbow when he charged in. It was exciting and hard-hitting.

Sadly, my memory fails me and I cannot remember what move this was:

Could be a superplex (but looks too far from the corner), could be a swinging neckbreaker. But whatever the case, it won Simon Sermon the match.

YOUR WINNER – Simon Sermon

Afterwards both men were on the mat. Sermon crawled over to Michaels and pleaded with his former partner to end this feud; to bury the hatchet. Michaels finally stood up and took the hand Sermon was offering. Yes! The feud was over! Heck, We might even see a return of The Exotic Ones!

Except no, because that irredeemable jerkbag Rick Michaels delivered a nutshot the second Simon turned his back. I was appalled. The referee was appalled. All of Porterdale gasped in disgust.

Rick Michaels, you despicable shitbag.

Christie Whiplash

Vs.

Aisha (perhaps no longer Sunshine)

Vs.

Nina Monet

Vs.

Pandora

Last Woman Standing Match

Interesting to note that Ms. Monet was not carried to the ring in the same manner that Marko Polo was. Might want to check your crew’s priorities, ma’am. Just sayin’.

So this match was pretty crazy-go-nuts right from the start. But we all knew that would be the case. Platinum Championship Wrestling ladies don’t have slapfights. They don’t pull each others’ hair and mince around the ring. Rarely do you see any spankings. They tend to fight harder and nastier than the men.

Pandora went after Monet and Aisha went after Pandora. Then Whiplash came in and threw a bunch of elbows so weak-looking they wouldn’t have blown the dust off of grandma’s ass.

I went into this unfamiliar with Ms. Whiplash but assuming she must be pretty tough and pretty good to be taking part in PCW’s biggest show pretty much ever. Don’t get me wrong – by the end of the match she was doing well enough that I didn’t notice any flaws, which means she must have been doing pretty darn good because those elbows stank on ice.

After the opening chaos, the ladies paired off for one-on-one beatdowns. Monet went after Pandora and Aisha cornered Whiplash. The former two ended up brawling outside the ring while Aisha dominated her opponent. Then, while Aisha was distracted by Whiplash running repeatedly into her knuckles and then falling down, Pandora jumped on the Brawlin’ Banshee’s back and locked in a sleeper hold. But Aisha threw herself into the corner and dislodged the wild woman.

Whiplash tried to get back into the action, but Monet and Aisha teamed up on her. They used a tandem suplex that knocked Whiplash out of the ring, then the duo went to work on Pandora, repeating the tandem move.

Pandora somehow regained control and took out Monet and Aisha with a bulldog combination move out of the corner. Whiplash came back in and ate a vicious DDT. 

It looked like Pandora might win this thing, but all three women made it to their feet and Pandora ended up outside on the floor.

Apparently a lot of action happened really fast after Pandora got her shit together, because I don’t have any more pictures until the one where she is atop the turnbuckles in victory:

YOUR WINNER – Pandora

This is what you expect out of a women’s PCW match. I’m still not sold on Whiplash, but Aisha, Pandora, and Nina Monet delivered big time. What a bunch of tough broads.

Casey Kincaid

Vs.

“The Sensational” Jay Fury

Vs.

Fred Yehi

Platinum Trinity Match

I really feel like these guys should have action figures.

Anyway, Casey Kincaid came out first and was introduced as “The Phantom” Casey Kincaid. He had on a skull mask and a Misfits jacket and an absolutely terrifying set of spikes strapped to his arm.

The rules of the Platinum Trinity are that when you are pinned or submit (yes – you “submit”, nobody “gets submitted”; that’s stupid. They’re wrestlers, not fucking job applications. I hate it when people say “got submitted”, you’re not protecting anybody or putting anybody over, you’re just using poor and inaccurate English. Thanks for that one, MMA.) you are out for two minutes. The man that remains when both of his opponents are “out” is the winner. I think this is a genius solution to the problems inherent in a three-way match. Rather than having one guy look lazy, weak, or dumb every few minutes so actual wrestling can happen, you give him a reason to not be in the ring.

I put the camera away for this one. I hope very strongly that there is video of this match somewhere because I want you to see it. It was without a doubt the match of the night. It was a technical masterpiece. I enjoyed every second of it and these three men did not waste one of those. Unfortunately, the fourth man did.

I don’t typically talk too much about referees. They have a hard fucking job that I couldn’t do any more than I could wrestle. And what sucks about it is that if they’re doing their job right they should not ever be noticed.

Side Note: The one exception to this rule is Marc Hildebrandt, who is my favorite referee of all time. But he is exactly that – the exception that proves the rule.

Anyway, I don’t talk about refs unless they become directly involved in storylines, which I usually hate. I didn’t mind the recent Duke Korey thing because it made sense and helped Najasism look like an even bigger prick heading into the Sacred Ground match.

But the ref handling this match blew a couple of pretty big spots. There was one in particular where I think it was Casey Kincaid that hit a Northern Lights suplex and had Jay Fury pinned. I think it was even supposed to be a three-count because they stayed there for a while. But the ref was facing the other way, daydreaming or something. Maybe he was distracted by Mrs. Anderson’s shoes. I dunno. But all of a sudden he turned around and was like, “Oh, shit! I totally forgot I was refereeing a professional wrestling match! What time is it? What day is it?” and then dropped and made the count, but obviously Fury (or whoever it was) didn’t want to let himself get pinned for a thirty count, so he kicked out.

I think there were a couple of other referee boo-boos in that match. Shit happens. I’m not trying to be a dick to the guy, but it messed up what would otherwise have been a near-perfect match and I’d look like an idiot if I didn’t mention it. Lord knows there are enough other things calling me out on that one – I don’t need to add another.

The match ended when Fury had held a Crippler Crossface on Yehi for a very long time. Kincaid had been out and as soon as his time was up Yehi tapped. Kincaid ran in the ring and hit one of the nastiest-looking dropkicks I’ve ever seen on Fury. Just knocked him the fuck out. Kincaid pinned him and got the win.

YOUR WINNER – Casey Kincaid

After the match – which had been established as an athletic competition and had no grudges or storylines involved – Kincaid and Yehi shook hands (Fury was still out cold). But then Kincaid hit Yehi with a low blow and something else, knocking him out of the ring. Kincaid then went over to Fury, who was recovering and hadn’t seen any of that. He picked Fury up, raised his hand, and then (I think) kicked him square in the solar plexus. From there Kincaid went to the top turnbuckle and delivered a Frogsplash Elbow – Fury’s own finish.

Kincaid left the ring to the taunts and boos of the fans while Yehi crawled back into the ring and was left to wonder why his former teammate had turned into such a raging dickhead.

After the match I finally ran over to the broadcast table to see if I could get some quick commentary in on what had just happened. I got there and Jonathan warned me that the audio was terrible. I made a few brief comments and realized that my voice was already shot and also that I couldn’t hear anything Jonathan was saying. Then the next match started.

Najasism

Vs.

De La Vega

Hair Versus Hair Match

Aside from the Main Event, this was the biggest storyline match on the card for me. Vega and Naja have been upping the scale of their conflict for the past couple of months to the point where it was going to take something big to be a believable blowoff. This was that something big. One of these men – who both have recognizable and signature hairstyles – would lose their hair Saturday night.

I watched the first portion of the match from the broadcast table, but it very quickly became clear that both of these men were Bringing It For Real and I had to return to my ringside seat.

I got my camera back out just as Naja was being relieved of his position on the high ground:

This might have been the fastest-paced match of the night. There was very little time to think as these two flew all over the ring, performing feats ordinary men could not. Flying from turnbuckles, leaping over ropes, and tremendous leaping kicks were all part of this brutal dance.

Vega ended up outside the ring at one point while Naja mocked his signature entrance dance. But Vega (who was attired as the Street Fighter character) came back with a quick, mean spear and a series of clotheslines.

Naja regained control after a while and hit a couple of high-flying moves from the top turnbuckle, as well as a solid big boot. He looked to be holding onto the advantage until he charged toward De La Vega, who was inert in the corner. But when Naja got there, Vega was gone. Vega thought he had the advantage, but Najasism grabbed a hold of him and slammed him into the ringpost. He then pulled his opponent onto the apron and delivered what could have been a crippling piledriver:

One more Frogsplash later and it was all over for De La Vega. And his hair.

YOUR WINNER – Najasism

Naja wasted no time retrieving the Official Platinum Championship Wrestling Scissors of Shame. He celebrated briefly, then set to cutting off De La Vega’s locks and spreading them around the ring. Doctor Melei and Stephen Platinum came out, followed by Sylar Cross and I’ve got to tell you – that sold it for me. I thought something might actually be wrong. Platinum has played this card before, but it gets me every time. Doctor Melei appears to have about as much medical training as my four year old son, but there’s just something about those Official Paramedic Issue Converse All-Star hit-tops that fools me every time.

Next we had an intermission and I ran outside for a refreshing adult beverage. I also took a moment to show my support for Sylar Cross by purchasing one of his spiffy, new t-shirts. He didn’t have any change and still owes me a dollar. But he’s one up on PCW, who still owe me an entire shirt.

El Asesino

Vs.

Devlin Valek

Vs.

Grotesquecito w/ Pandora

Vs.

The Undead Luchador Supernatural

Let’s just get this out of the way – that is one tiny fucking Grotesque. Not only is Pandora taller, Supernatural almost is. Clearly Pandora did not follow Grotesque’s cleaning instructions and washed him in hot water rather than having him dry-cleaned. Silly Pandora. I would also like to speculate that Grotesque Mini is Hayden Young. I would also, also like to speculate that Hayden Young is actually Chuck Porterfield and that the Chuck Porterfield behind the announce table is Stephen Platinum and the Stephen Platinum that comes out to the ring is a hologram like Tupac Shakur.

Sorry – it’s the end of the day and I’m getting a little silly.

Asesino came out first and had a Party City cape over his head to let everybody know he was the bad guy. He should have had a Hurricane Helms cape. It’s him under a hood, I’m telling you. Not really.

Devlin Valek Satan-rocked his way out next. I wish I had an extra coat like the one Pinhead form Hellraiser wears because I feel like Valek needs one. Of course, I would have to have one coat like that in order to have an extra, so Valek’s entrance gear may be a long time coming.

Grotesquecito came out next and let’s be frank – this shit is just getting ridiculous. Grotesque has gone from being a six-foot-five monster who ran around throwing chainsaws at Chip Day to a cruiserweight-size wrestler that might conceivably be able to shop in the Dickies Junior section at Sears. The trademark Grotesque head gear – which is clearly there to try and distract from the fact that roughly eighty-three different people have been Grotesque – was about four sizes too big and became an extremely unwieldy collar about five minutes into the match.

But the best part? The little guy in the costume was acting like a big guy. It was like if you gave Paul London Big Show’s Fighting Style in the first SmackDown vs. RAW. That shit was hilarious. Not as hilarious as this:

But pretty funny.

And then Supernatural popped up out of the casket like a birthday present from Hell!

The Undead Luchador immediately climbed to the top turnbuckle and launched a dropkick that connected with Valek and Asesino. 

The action spilled out of the ring pretty quickly, with Pandora setting Grotesquecito on Supernatural and Valek while Asesino waited for his opportunity to do some truly crazy shit:

Sometimes it just takes one thing to win me over. This was Asesino’s.

Once everybody recovered from the clubberin’ they made it back into the ring where Grotesquecito got dropkicked in the face by everybody at once:

The story for a while was everybody beating Grotesquecito down, which really came off more as bullying because he’s so tiny. October is National Anti-Bullying month, so I can’t get behind that. Grotesquecito is now the babyface.

Nah – just kidding. Because Supernatural took control at this point. He made Grotesquecito all woozy with a sleeper, tied Valek up in a sort of modified Tarantula in the ropes, and then… well, Valek pulled him through the ropes and DDT’d the shit out of him.

Grotesque and Valek were battling it out on the far side of the ring, but Supernatural brought Asesino over to our side to say, “Hi!” Actually, the Undead Luchador motioned for everybody to get the fuck out of the way because he grabbed Asesino’s head, ran up a chair, and did a Sliced Bread #2 off the fucking wall!:

HOLY SHIT!

But Supernatural WAS NOT DONE! He then placed the dazed Asesino on top of the casket, climbed to the apron, and jumped right onto Asesino’s abdomen. This looked like it pretty much sucked for Asesino. I felt very bad for him. Somehow he got back in the ring, though, and even managed to gain the advantage. At least, until the inevitable TOWER OF DOOOOOOM!:

Valek fired up at this point and took the fight to Grotesquecito. After dumping the tiny titan out of the ring, he ran the apron and dropped a mean double ax handle across his noggin:

Once back in the ring, Valek fought with Supernatural and Asesino, but the Undead Luchador seemed to keep the advantage. When Grotesquecito regained consciousness, he went directly to the casket, intending to put an end to this madness:

But that shit backfired, as he ended up back in the ring with Supernatural, who seemed imbued with an almost… um… supernatural… might that evening. The Elder Ones of Downtown Porterdale must have been looking with favor upon the Undead Luchador because he was – like the Tick – nigh invulnerable. Grotesquecito found himself dumped into the very casket he had just opened, and then Supernatural jumped directly on top of him and then slammed the casket lid – what remained of it after the madness of this match – SHUT!

YOUR WINNER – The Undead Luchador, Superrrrrrrrrrrnatural

After the match, Stephen Platinum hit the ring for the annual ceremony to honor men who have made significant and special contributions to the business of professional wrestling.

Real quick – I forgot to mention Platinum’s shoes earlier. I tired to take a picture, but obviously didn’t quite get it:

They’re a pair of custom slip-ons featuring Shane Marx on one foot and the Demigod Mason on the other. They look pretty fucking amazing. Wait – here’s a better picture:

This year’s honoree was a man that I recognized at thw time but I cannot remember his name for the life of me right now. I just spent ten minutes scrutinzing a list of WCW alumhni, too. I'll correct this when I can.  He worked for WCW back in the day and is now taking over the PCW training school in Stephen Platinum’s absence. Typing “Stephen Platinum’s absence” just then might have made a little lump in my throat. I don’t know if this fella will actually be running the future Porterdale shows or if he’s simply taking over the training. Either way it’s good to know that somebody will be continuing the good work that Platinum has been doing.

Brian Blaze & Geter

Vs.

Washington Bullets

PCW Tag Team Season Finals

Call me a shitty recapper (no, really), but I put the camera away for this one, too. I just have to draw a line between my love of wrestling and my need to fill up blog posts. I wanted to savor this match. And while I can totally enjoy a match while taking shit-tons of pictures, there are just times where I feel like I need to sit back and focus on what the men in the ring are doing and the story they’re telling rather than just trying to get shots of the spots.

Side Note: There were too many fucking photographers at Sacred Ground. It was ridiculous. I respect those guys and what they do and am certainly envious of their nice cameras, but some of those guys were in my way all fucking night. A couple were actually conscious of where they were or made an effort to not obstruct the fans’ views. Others did not give one solitary shit where they were standing or who they were blocking. It’s one thing when you have one or two dudes doing that. It’s another entirely when there are five or six guys all trying to get the same shot from the same angle. I think the considerate guys know who they are and the others probably don’t care. So thank you, considerate guys.

And believe me – I’m not talking about anybody looking out for me getting pictures with my little point-and-shoot camera. More often than not my picture quality isn’t going to be any worse for having a shirt with dragons all over it obstructing a Frankensteiner. It was probably going to be blurry anyway. The problem is when I miss even being able to see the next five moves because that shirt is still right in front of me. Keep moving, please. Don’t camp out in front of the paying fans.

This was the kind of match that not only had huge stakes – the PCW Tag Team Season Trophy – but was going to tell an interesting story as well.

The Washington Bullets are an outstanding tag team with one of the most impressive records in PCW. They typically get the biggest pop of any given night and have only gotten better and better with each passing year. 2012 has been their biggest year yet, with an ongoing presence in the Tag Team Season as well as successful forays into the singles scene for both brothers. Jon and Trey are two of the most naturally gifted and hardest-working athletes in the company. Every person I have ever brought to a PCW show cold has immediately loved the Bullets. Granted, this is sometimes more a case of, “Ooh – look at them,” than “Wow, what an amazing pair of wrestlers,” but I’m pretty sure they’d take either. Regardless, the Bullets’ tagline in 2012 had been “3peat” - a promise that they will win the Tag Team Season for a third straight year.

Brian Blaze and Geter have a very different story from the Bullets, but it is no less impactful. They made it to the finals of this Season on their own terms – allying with neither PCW nor Empire. They have fought the battles they needed to in order to progress, never getting involved in anything other than furthering their own goals. Blaze has transformed himself from a solid part of a larger group into a leader with his own style and impressive skill set. Geter has become the biggest threat in PCW. This giant could have easily been nothing more than an Immovable Object and been successful. But that was clearly not enough. Over the past couple of years Geter has become that rarest of wrestlers – the athletic Big Man. Rather than watching him and thinking, “He’s indestructible – nobody could hurt him,” fans end up thinking, “He is going to destroy everybody.” Geter is a force of nature and has worked hard to become that.

This match was all I thought it would be. Again, I hope there is video somewhere because I really want you to see it. The action was intense throughout and I have to say I never had any doubt that the Bullets would win. The end of the match brought several close calls, points where either team could have won and the ending would have been satisfying. But finally, Brian Blaze hit one last move on Jon Williams and Trey simply couldn’t break the pin in time.

YOUR WINNERS AND 2012 PCW TAG TEAM SEASON CHAMPIONS –

Brian Blaze & Geter

After the match Stephen Platinum came out to console the Bullets while Blaze and Geter celebrated with their hard-won trophy in the ring.

And with that ladies and gentlemen,

Your Platinum Championship Wrestling Main Event!

“The Revelation” Shane Marx w/ Big Masked Guy, Jeff G. Bailey, Jonathan Malick, Screamin’ Marty Freeman, & Rachael Freeman

Vs.

Demigod Mason w/ The Witness

For the Empire Championship and the PCW Championship

This match was to determine the future of Platinum Championship Wrestling and Empire Wrestling. Mason went into it as the PCW Champion and Shane Marx went in as the Empire Champion. The winner would not only unify the titles but win the company for their side. Either Platinum Championship Wrestling or the Empire would cease to exist after the Main Event on September 29th, 2012.

Now, you might be wondering why I have pictures of this match if it was such a big deal. I had to. I couldn’t very well not do a decent recap of this match. I am not being hyperbolic when I say this match was more important to me, personally than any other match I have seen live. I have grown to love PCW over the past couple of years and I didn’t want to see it die (even though I felt certain this was the case given the surrounding circumstances). I had to be able to provide a record of this Main Event.

Also, I felt this match was going to be a bit more entertainment-oriented than the other matches I put the camera down for. This is not taking anything away from the athletes involved. Shane Marx and Mason are the top competitors in the company. They can wrestle any kind of damn match they want to. But this one was for everything. It had to be special and, quite frankly, Marx and Mason wrestling a riveting, technically sound match is nothing special. They can do that any night of the week and twice on Sunday with their eyes closed. Yeah, it’s thrilling and impressive, but it wouldn’t be appropriate for a match of this significance. And that is precisely why it is no insult to say this match was going to be more spectacle.

Before I get too much further, here’s Jeff G. Bailey’s fucking Guccis:

What an asshole.

So Marx and Mason were in the ring and the tension in the air was so thick we could all hardly breathe. I went into this match with an absolute certainty of the outcome. I won’t tell you what it was until after I tell you the actual result, but I was about as tense as I’ve ever been watching a wrestling match.

This was it. It was go time.

Mason seemed to have the advantage from the start. Marx got a couple of holds, but Mason’s confidence and composure never wavered. Marx got the Demigod in an armbar, but Mason got out. Marx trapped Mason in a headscissor, but the PCW champ escaped. All quick and efficient. Mason threw Marx over his shoulder with a snapmare and then followed up with a tight rolling neck snap.

This actually seemed to fire the Revelation up, and from there he took control. He got Mason outside the ring and slammed his back into the ringpost. I missed some action here, but the Demigod took over outside the ring at one point and got the Empire figurehead dazed. Mason ascended to the top turnbuckle and leapt at Marx with all of the force his body and gravity could muster. The impact was devastating and both men went crashing to the floor of the venue.

When they rose Marx was rocked, but Mason was clearly the worse for wear. Blood was streaming down the PCW Champ’s face like red rain down a window pane. Marx grinned and threw his opponent back into the ring, determined to finish things quickly.

The Revelation had Mason down on his knees and was raining blows onto his head, making the blood pour out in ever-increasing rivulets. I thought for sure the referee was going to call the match. If he had, the crowd would have rioted. Marx finally relented his assault and brought the crimson Demigod to his feet, likely to deliver the final blow.

But a fire suddenly lit Demigod Mason’s eyes, and the bloody Champion drew back his hand and laid into his foe.

Marx was unprepared for his opponent’s renewed vigor and was quickly subdued. Seeing his opportunity, Mason made the most impactful statement of the night by lifting the bigger man up to his shoulders and dropping him head first to the ground in a devastating driver.

Panicking and sensing defeat, Jonathan Malick leapt to the apron in an attempt to distract the Champion of PCW while the other members of Empire Management took out the referee. Mason struck Malick down. Before he could turn back to his foe, Rachael Freeman jumped on Mason’s back, but the Demigod caught the Empire’s witch and brought her to his shoulders, dropping her in the same way he had Marx just a minute earlier.

Finally, Jeff G. Bailey – the most reprehensible excuse for a human being to ever set foot in the squared circle – scrambled into the ring before Mason could regain his footing and forced a white cloth over the Champ’s mouth. The cloth was obviously treated with a substance meant to sap the will and drain consciousness, as Mason sank back to the mat. Bailey dragged Shane Marx’s sorry carcass over and laid the arm of the Empire’s Fist across PCW’s Last Hope. Bailey then roughly revived the referee, who moved into position and began what would be the final count for Platinum Championship Wrestling.

1…

2…

And Mason threw his arm up in defiance of the odds, in defiance of his own tortured body, and most of all in defiance of the Empire.

White hot fire ran through the entirety of that room.

Shane Marx knew sheer terror in that moment, and it would prove his undoing.

He began to throw panicked blows against the Demigod, who was now seemingly possessed by the very spirit of PCW and the energy of all of the fans in attendance. Marx’s moves became unfocused and less concentrated, but still drove Mason to the mat. Desperate to end things and escape the Demigod’s wrath, Marx scrambled to the top turnbuckle to deliver a final aerial move. But Mason sprang up from the mat, electrified, and thrust his hand upward to Marx’s exposed throat, locking in Occam’s Razor.

Marx knew he was defeated. His entire body went limp before Mason even threw him to the mat.

The referee lifted the prone Empire Champion’s hand once and the audience watched breathlessly as it fell limply to the mat.

Twice, and again the hand fell.

A third time, and Marx was gone.

YOUR WINNER AND NEW UNIFIED PLATINUM CHAMPIONSHIP WRESTLING AND EMPIRE CHAMPION

The Demigod Mason

Finally the energy of the seemingly possessed savior of PCW went limp and he simply knelt over his vanquished foe in the middle of the bloody canvas.

Mason’s family – the entirety of the PCW locker room – swarmed the ring and surrounded their hero. And that was enough to bring the Champion back to life, as he ascended to the top of the ringpost and proclaimed his triumph to the crowd, whose voices were ragged from continuous chants of, “P-C-W! P-C-W! P-C-W!”

Finally, Mason and Stephen Platinum were left in the ring to embrace in their mutual victory.

And then that disreputable villain Jeff G. Bailey had the inconceivable gall to enter the ring and attempt to cast aspersions on the proceedings.

Stephen Platinum knocked him the fuck out.

That’s it, ladies and gentlemen. It was the very best night of wrestling I have ever seen and I fear it won’t ever be equaled, let alone surpassed.

Side Note: Okay, I really wanted that to be the end of the recap, as it felt all dramatic and stuff, but I’ve got a couple more things to say.

I really meant what I said about Sacred Ground III never being topped. I doubt it will be.

After PCW vacated the ring, Jonathan Malick and Bailey got in there and had a little bitch session. Bailey kicked a bunch of stuff around and threw a fun little fit:

And finally, most importantly, PCW is not dead. As I said above, I was positive about the result of the Main Event. I thought the Empire was going to win. It seemed logical, what with Platinum being in Florida. But that didn’t happen and I’ve never been so genuinely surprised at the result of a wrestling match except maybe when RVD beat Cena at One Night Stand.

But PCW will return to Porterdale on October 20th, 2012, where Mason will defend his unified Championship against the Fifth Column. I strongly recommend you be there. You might have missed the first years of PCW, but now you can be there for the new beginning.
Also, as always - please check out my Facebook album for a TON more photos.

-Phantom