First match of the night was a tag team title defense by Robbie and Big Gar, better known as The Pizza Guys. The PGs get a big pop coming out, they've been fan favorites from the moment they debuted.
Their opponents are Punk and Disorderly for no other reason than they won a coin toss against the Shenanigan Brothers backstage. The referee announces that due to Dave Wilder's irritation with previous debacles (his words not mine) there will be no disqualifications for interference in this match-up, and then Mad Margeret swipes the mic and announces that they'll be no interference from the Shenanigan Brothers because he tricked them into the broom closet and padlocked it. Both the Punkers and the PGs seem to agree that this was a good idea.
The match itself is a little slow and ho-hum. There's a little decent back and forth a few big slams, but not much else to yell about until Mags hits a big piledriver on Big Gar and then sends Burnout at Robbie with a fastball special. Mags climbs to the top rope and gives a look the the crowd and then stops about halfway. We all turn to see what he's looking at and it's Dana Shenanigan with a pair of bolt cutters over her shoulder.
The doors explode open and here come Mikey and Jimmy at full tilt. Mags hardly has time to say "Oh shi..." before they're all over him beating him senseless with a mop handle and a gum scraper that lays his forehead wide open. They pound him senseless in the ring and then drag Big Gar over him. The ref counts three for the PGs to retain the title.
Next up we have Kieth Risk and Mike Corea. Kieth Risk still doesn't have much in the way of exciting offense, but man, does he make other guys look good. The whole match is a showcase of Mike's growing arsenal of highly athletic high impact offense including his new finisher which is a somersault flapjack. Winner? Corea. MVP? Risk.
Toehold Nelson comes to the ring. I guess this is the mystery match we've all been waiting for. His "mystery" opponent? Welcome back Garret Jessup. Here's another "welcome back" chant. Nelson squares of like he wants to wrestle. Big mistake. Jessup wades in like the mad brawlers he always was. It's not a classy elegant match by any means. Jessup just pounds and pounds and pounds. Eventually Jessup is on top of Nelson in a UFC style ground and pound and the ref rings for the bell. Dianne O'Connor shows us why she's the refereee's referee with a good call. She declares Jessup the winner due to his opponent being unable to fight on. It's a strange call to see made in pro wrestling, but I think the crowd is behind it.
Then there's this odd amusing little side-show where Russel Velvet, the Ladies Man, comes out and brings up four women from the audience. He does this little miniature pageant thing where he asks questions and has them walk around, and then he has the crowd decide which one he should take out to Red Lobster. In the end he says he can't figure out who the crowd is hollering for louder, so he'll just take all four of them out, and don't worry about the check. Kind of cute.
The final match marks Combat Chris Walker's return to the ring. He's set to face Turk 187.
The screen fires up and there's Turk looking pretty spooked. "Do you think I'm stupid? I'm not no horror movie bimbo. I'm not just gonna walk out there and let it happen, man. Walker, you enjoy your win. I'm not coming anywhere near that ring. No way. I'm not making it easy. No chance." There's the sound of a door slamming and Turk 187 just about jumps out of his skin. He points at the camera. "Hey, I thought I told you guys to lock the door. You fuckers are gonna go and fuck it up for me. LOCK THE FUCKING DOOR!" Turk looks to be regressing pretty fast. He's wild eyed and barely coherent.
The lights go out, but there's still sound. We all know the sound of the Wizard's voice as he growls out "Found you!!" and then there's the sound of Turk screaming like a little girl, a lot of crashing and then the feed goes dead.
Walker is still in the ring and he doesn't look happy. He motions for the mic.
"If you idiots want to play your bullshit games that's fine with me, but do it on your own fucking time not mine. Listen up, meatwads. I came here looking for a fight, and I better damn well get one. You got until the count of ten to throw some sorry sack of shit out those doors for me to have a match with or I WILL COME BACK THERE AND CLEAN HOUSE. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven..."
Hiro Mifune walks through the doors looking very unconcerned. He walks up to the ring and then climbs in. He holds out his hand for the microphone which Walker obligingly hands to him.
"I will have a match with you, but you should forget about all of the amateur theatrics you were planning on using against Turk 187. For me you bring your big league game, right." He holds the mic up to Walker's face.
Walker looks his former tag team co-champion in the eye and says "You beat you ass."
Ref Owen Sweda calls for the bell and the two lock up. I'm not gonna move by move the whole match, but listen to this opening set of spots will ya? Lockup, Walker with a headlock, Mifune counters with a duckout into a hammerlock, Walker reverses to his own hammerlock, Mifune with the elbow, duckunder and armdrag and twist, Walker flips out of it and tries for a fireman's carry, Mifune rolls out of the carry kneespins to his feet, tries his own fireman's carry and the whole spot ends with Walker sitting and Mifune kneeling behind him with a waistlock on. Very technical and very well executed. Walker has really really done his homework.
The match continues with some high energy ropework, what can only be called a slam and reversal contest, and then into some really heavy power moves by Walker and some absolutely crazy high spots from the Japanese Aeronaut. The match ends with Walker catching Mifune mid hurracanrata and dropping a thunderous sit-down powerbomb for the three count at 21:13. Wow that was a long amazing match that just never seemed to stop. I hope someone videotaped that, because I want to send a copy to every federation in the world as a tutorial about how to pace a match. Good show, guys.