december boys got it bad

Man, in the post United Champions of Europe world that we find ourselves living in I don't feel like doing much. I'm blaming my laziness on John Terry and because of him Alex Ferguson is apparently the bestest manager in the world ever. Thanks John.

Anyway, lets talk about some real sport, the sport of kings, catch as catch can wrestling. Get this, in Memphis 1988 (United hadn't won a European cup or league for a long time, Graeme Hogg played for them and Neil Webb was their great white hope) Jerry Lawler is the new AWA WORLD CHAMPION. Jackie Fargo was the ref and he sort of did a four count, just to emphasise the victory I guess. It looked like a pretty full Mid-South Coliseum and they went mad for the local boy done good.

Lance Russell, probably the happiest man on the planet apart from Lawler, interviews the new champ. Lawler, in full Miami Vice outfit and George Michael designer stubble, tells Lance that he can only spare a minute or two because he's got a plane waiting for him. He's defending his World Title in some far off distant land (Minnesota?) and can't stop too long in Memphis. WHAT! It sort of comes across as a heel turn but it isn't, the poor old Mempho faithful just have to accept it, their king's now Verne Gagne's king.

Meanwhile Brickhouse Brown, with his usual linguistic dexterity, eases the crowds fears that Brother Ernest has picked up an illness. "HE'S GOT AIDS, HE'S GOT AIDS" chant the crowd but Brickhouse says it's just a cold. He's sort of taken over Ernest's managerial role while he gets over his cold. They show backstage footage at the Mid-South Coliseum after Hennig's title loss and Eddie Marlin's telling him that he can't have a rematch with Lawler until he's got the Southern Title. Brickhouse buts in, rips the Southern Title from Max Payne, who he's managing, and tries to give it to Hennig. All hell breaks loose.