WWE Elimination Chamber at the Bradley Center
For the self-respecting wrestling—er, “sports entertainment”—fan, watching one of WWE’s monthly pay-per-view events can be trying. The company has spent more than a decade working to recapture the magic of the late-’90s Attitude Era, which was notable for its “Stone Cold” Steve Austin and Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson-led mainstream crossover personalities, boundary-pushing story lines, and occasionally excellent wrestling. These days, the action is still occasionally excellent, but—with a few exceptions—the personalities and story lines aren’t exactly “Who shot J.R.?” Hell, they’re barely “Who ran over Stone Cold?”
However, one aspect of pro-wrestling fandom from then to now has remained constant: Seeing it live always changes the game. Never ones to avoid a spectacle, The A.V. Club dropped by the Bradley Center Sunday night for the WWE’s annual Wrestlemania prologue, the Elimination Chamber PPV. There, we hoped to see a showdown between our two favorite WWE superstars: Dancing With The Stars competitor Chris Jericho and CM Punk, the Chicago-bred “straight-edge superstar” who cut his teeth in many a Milwaukee-based independent ring before being called up to the big time.
6:54 p.m.: We take our seats in nosebleed section 411. The Elimination Chamber match is a semi-convoluted concept: It’s a six-person elimination match, where two wrestlers begin the contest inside a huge, chain-link cage built larger than a traditional steel cage to accommodate platforms outside of the ring and four enclosed, plastic pods that house the other wrestlers. Every four or five minutes, one of the pods opens “randomly,” until eventually all six men have entered the match. Got all of that? If not, don’t worry—the WWE rarely gives a rip whether it makes sense, so why should you?
6:59 p.m.: As the PPV nears broadcast, the crowd lets loose with the first big chant of the evening: the obligatory “Let’s go Cena/Cena sucks!” This is a contest of those fans (mostly ladies and little kids) who think the WWE’s current to baby face, John Cena, is a wholesome superhero versus the (usually male) audience members who hate Cena because he’s, well, a wholesome superhero.
7:09 p.m.: As baby faces Punk and Kofi Kingston shake hands, we try to start a “Code Of Honor” chant, but only one kid in our section catches the reference to the Ring Of Honor promotion. Meanwhile, douchebag bleached-blonde “show-off” and former male cheerleader Dolph Ziggler hilariously does pull-ups in his pod.
7:45 p.m.: Our hopes for a Jericho victory and WWE title-change are dashed when ol’ Y2J is kicked out of the ring by Punk, crashing into a cameraman and selling what looks like a legit and severe head injury. Punk looks concerned to the point of almost breaking character, even flashing the “X” arm signal that is used to signal backstage when someone actually gets hurt in the match. Two minutes later, Punk pins former Real World star The Miz in an anticlimactic, rushed finish that does nothing to assuage us of our fears about a legit Jericho injury. However, Punk’s cocky shrug in Jericho’s direction, combined with Y2J’s eventual walk away from the ring under his own power, sets us at ease.
8:05 p.m.: In a shocking development for the WWE Divas division, champion “Glamazon” Beth Phoenix and Tamina Snuka (real-life daughter of “Superfly” Jimmy Snuka) have an entertaining match, defying the WWE’s standard practice of using its females as cheesecake comic relief. What crazy-ass mirror universe have we stumbled into?
9:03 p.m.: The audience is borderline nuclear as traditional comic-relief underdog Santino Marella pins two men and nearly pulls off the upset victory, eventually succumbing to the fearsome “LeBell Lock” of Smackdown World Champ Daniel Bryan, who jwas wrestling at the Miramar Theater for 90 people just a year and a half ago. Now he’s headlining one of the WWE’s TV shows and making fools tap out with a submission move that was used by repeat-concussion sufferer and murder-suicide committer Chris Benoit. You’ve come a long way, you vegan wunderkind.
9:10 p.m.: To make up for its early treatment of the Divas as a legit showcase of serious female wrestling talent, the WWE features one of its most talented ladies, Natalya—son of Jim “The Anvil” Neidhart and niece of WWE legend Bret “Hitman” Hart—in a segment where she farts in front of dwarf Leprechaun Hornswoggle. It’s basically an excuse to get Oshkosh native Hornswoggle on the pay-per-view event in his home state, albeit while wearing a cheesehead and reacting to a fart joke.
9:21 p.m.: The main event of the evening pits the polarizing WWE poster boy John Cena against Kane—the one-time burn victim and masked “brother” of The Undertaker—in an ambulance match. The object of an ambulance match is to use a stretcher to throw your opponent into the back of an ambulance and shut both doors, which is a perfectly sane gimmick for a realistic sporting competition that also features “casket” and “viagra on a pole” matches.
9:31 p.m.: Cena, hero to children, connects with his trademark fist-drop, the “five knuckle shuffle.” WWE programming is rated TV-PG.
9:46 p.m.: The ambulance match ends when Cena, high atop the vehicle, delivers his “attitude adjustment” finishing move to Kane, sending him flying off the roof into a large container that is surely filled with steel wool, broken glass, and sandpaper—and not 200 comfy down pillows. As Cena locks Kane in the back of the ambulance, Kane can rest assured that he has been locked in a Bell ambulance, and therefore will not be “taken for a ride.”
9:50 p.m.: All in all, the enjoyable night was filled with above-average action and a hot crowd. But for a real crowd-watching spectacle, we’ll take the local stuff any night of the week. See you at the next ICW show! A “Loser Dresses Like A Juggalo Or A Metrosexual” match? SOLD.
