Resistance Pro

I am not normally the type of wrestling fan who feels the need to transcribe detailed critiques of the shows that I attend.

I make no claims about my opinions carrying any weight or wielding any influence in the industry.

I have no desire to make a name for myself based on my ability to make snarky comments at the expense of others.

And yet having said all that, I sit here on this rainy day unable to think about anything but how much I want to vent about yesterday's experience at Excalibur nightclub, where I watched the debut of Billy Corgan's new wrestling promotion, Resistance Pro.

So where should I begin? For starters, I guess I should admit that I was cautiously optimistic about the quality of this production from the get go. On one hand, many of the talent being featured, namely Colt Cabana, El Generico, Kevin Steen, and Gran Akuma were guys who I love, and who have provided me with oodles of entertainment over the years. But on the other hand.....

On the other hand it was wrestling under the direction of Billy Corgan.

A musical entertainer.

Putting on a wrestling show.

And not just any wrestling show, but a wrestling show at a downtown nightclub.

That in itself was enough to give me strong reservations about forking over $20 for admission, but being the glutton-for-punishment wrestling fan that I am, I set those reservations aside and I pre-ordered my ticket. I figured if nothing else I'd enjoy a fun night out with my friends, and that was the attitude I maintained as I entered Excalibur's doors along with troubl3maker, fuzzilla, jfannin73 (whose appearance was a pleasant surprise), his wife, and my pal Drew.

The first sign of trouble was the line waiting to enter the main show area on the second floor. It wound down the staircase and into the front bar and bottle service room, all clustered and disorganized. Nobody, not even the bar staff, seemed to have any idea if show-goers were all being grouped together, or if there was a plan for differentiating the pre-order ticket holders from those who were paying cash at the door. We waited and waited and waited some more, hoping that someone would come along and clarify. And granted, I have been to many a show and I know that the doors NEVER open at the time that's advertised, but given the fact that Resistance was touting itself as a fed unlike any other fed, I thought they'd at least TRY to be prompt at getting fans to their seats (or rather, to the space surrounding the ring where they had to jockey for a prime viewing spot.)

Eventually (I think about half an hour after the doors were supposed to open) the lines were segmented, and everyone was slowly ushered up the stairs. I found it a bit irksome that the cash-holding attendees were given priority access over those of us who had actually taken the time to buy our seats in advance, thus rendering any benefit of a pre-order completely useless, but I let it go, because I'm a forgiving sort, and all I cared about was having my wrestling curiosity satisfied.

This was my first time being inside Excalibur, and when we finally got oriented we realized that all the space at ringside had already been taken up, and we were going to have to venture upstairs if we hoped to have any view of the show. The second floor balcony was reserved for V.I.P.s, so we made our way to the third level, where we crammed ourselves on a ledge directly above the production crew for an obstructed view of the stage and the ring. It wasn't terrible, but it had the feel of something out of Mad Max, tiers of spectators looking down on the tiny performance space. I think the idea was to evoke the feeling of being in an underground fight club, but honestly I wasn't really feeling it. Especially not when they let loose with the dry ice and the images of wrestlers and the Resistance Pro logo on the tiny little monitors that were supposed to serve as jumbotrons.

Joel Gertner started things off, and that was childishly amusing. We were informed that we were going to see two semi-final matches as part of a tournament to crown Resistance Pro's first-ever heavyweight champion. How they had already reached the semi-final round on their very first show was beyond me, but I guess I was supposed to suspend my disbelief and just accept that, right?

After that whatever moment, the four men competing in the two semi-final matches were brought out. El Generico. Harry Smith (who even got fancy lights during his entrance that I think were supposed to make him appear Godlike). The Sheik, who I had never seen before. And Kevin Steen. There was a USA chant when the Sheik and his manager started saying heelish things, never mind the fact that the other three dudes are all Canadian. There was some threats of faces being bitten off. There was assertiveness from the ring announcer, who after being bullied a little bit, told The Sheik that his match against Generico was starting at that moment.

I was sooo pulling for Generico to get the win. Not only because I like him, but because The Sheik didn't do anything all that original or impressive. But Generico's appearance and his talent was wasted when The Sheik got a cheap win using a chokehold with a foreign object. I might have been able to chalk that up as an isolated incident of heelishness, except that the next match, a tag bout pitting Hallowicked and Matt Classic (who btw, stole the show without ever setting foot in the ring) against Tony Kozina and Kyle O'Reilly (Team Ambition) also involved a win via cheating. And maybe I'm too discriminating in my preferences, but I kind of feel like you need at least a few clean finishes in the mix to keep things from feeling repetitive.

To be fair, the next match ended clean, but it was Icarus being squashed by Brad, or sorry, "Lonesome" Jay Bradley. That outcome was believable, for sure, considering what a big dude Bradley is, but not even his promo about winning making whiskey and women go down faster could make it very satisfying.

Following this a fitness model wearing wrestling gear with ridiculously high heels came out to much irksome heckling and cat calls, and we strained our ears to hear her tell us that she was going to be in the corner of the Briscoes, who as far as I know, have never needed a manager type to get them over in the past. But whatever, they had a match against Teddy Hart and Gran Akuma that I would easily deem match of the night. I won't even attempt to give a blow by blow because rattling off the names of moves is not my specialty, but suffice it to say there were crazy dives off balconies and sick bumps and poor Akuma looked dead when all was said and done.

What else? Oh yeah, the women's match. It featured Cheerleader Melissa, which was enough to make me pay attention, until I realized that this so-called gauntlet match was actually a messy Royal Rumble with over-the-top-rope eliminations in place of systematic pin-falls. A messy Royal Rumble that also included a dude in drag who may or may not have been meant as a jab at Arik Cannon (his name? Erica Cannons).

On a more positive note, there was a loud gong that was sounded every time a new woman entered the fray. And being me, I found no end of childish amusement in this! The only thing that would have made it better is if the criteria for being eliminated from the non-gauntlet gauntlet match was having your head rammed against it to make it chime.

This hot mess was followed by my other favorite match of the night - a three-way between Colt Cabana, Petey Williams (who was NOT Petey Williams, he was the Canadian Destroyer, dammit!) and Necro Butcher. Who would have thought such a clash of styles could result in comedy gold? I guess I should have known, given the fact that Cabana was a participant.

Finally the show was rounded out with the other semi-final match of Kevin Steen vs. Harry Smith. This should have been entertaining by virtue of Steen being a participant, but the only thing I really enjoyed was a fan who kept shouting snarky bits of encouragement at Steen, things like, "Throw your fat body at him again!" The time limit draw followed by five more minutes that wasn't really five more minutes and the run-in by the Sheik to boast about how he was going to beat them both at the next show was not dramatic and exciting like it was intended to be, and by the time the show closed I had no interest in coming back to find out what happens next.

As it turns out, I won't be able to attend their next show even if I wanted to, because I'm going to be out of town the night that it takes place. But if Resistance survives beyond that, I can't say they've given me much reason to continue giving them my money.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't absolutely hate watching this production. Even a bad night of wrestling is still a good night out for the most part, and to be honest, this show's failings fell more on the shoulders of whoever was in charge of making everything flow together cohesively, and not the in-ring talent. I'd like to believe that now that they've got their first show under their belt, they'll be able to work out the kinks and make things run smoother the next time, because I like the idea of a wrestling company thriving, even if it's not a wresting company that I will be supporting.

But will that happen? I guess we can only wait and see.