http://www.grantland.com/story/_/id/9693408/daniel-bryan-wwe-championship-art-delayed-gratification
Gotta be patient with this storyline, brehs.
Two parts.
Wrestling and the Chase
Daniel Bryan, the WWE Championship, and the art of delayed gratification
By The Masked Man on September 19, 2013
Sunday at Night of Champions, Daniel Bryan faced WWE Champ Randy Orton, the corporate-sponsored d-bag who cashed in his Money in the Bank title shot last month after Bryan won the belt from John Cena. Bryan versus Orton might not have been Dusty Rhodes versus Ric Flair circa 1985, but you wouldn't know it from the way the fans were screaming. Orton is backed by the newly diabolical McMahon clan, who want a more suitable champion than Bryan, while Bryan has united WWE fans in a way that hasn't been seen in ages. In a surprising turn of events, vile COO (and McMahon son-in-law) Triple H outlawed any interference in the match — odd because the Orton-McMahon regime thrived precisely because of ongoing assists from the Shield and other shenanigans. And once the match was left to an unadulterated one-on-one contest, Bryan won. Let me repeat: Bryan won! The crowd went wild! It almost felt like an all-time epic moment in the modern pro wrestling landscape.
Except it didn't, not really. Because the win didn't count.
It's been exactly a year since I wrote about the sacred art of the Dusty Finish, the match-ending technique popularized by Dusty Rhodes in his run as booker (and star) of the Crocketts' NWA bastion, Mid-Atlantic Wrestling. (Commonly known in those days just as the NWA, it would later morph into WCW.) It's a brilliant move that worked wonders at the tail end of the Territorial Era to draw out tension and delay gratification in favor of short-lived, wrongheaded joys. In its most classical form, the hero (Dusty Rhodes himself, often) would be facing the bad-guy champion (Ric Flair) after months (or years) of chasing him, and now he finally beats him and wins the title — except the referee who was knocked out at some point during the match regains consciousness and reverses the replacement ref's decision. Here's how I described the thought process:
From a booking perspective, the goal of this reversal was to give fans the satisfaction of a Rhodes win without changing the status quo. That way, the thinking went, the eventual rematch between Flair and Rhodes would be even bigger. This is, after all, how pro wrestling works: The villain's comeuppance is never really in question; it's only a matter of time, place, and, ultimately, economics. But there was also an old-fashioned aspect to the way Starrcade 85 played out — above all else, the status quo had to be maintained.
The Dusty Finish is much derided today, mostly for its overuse by middling practitioners and for its catchy name, which is really only incidentally credited to Rhodes, who groans at the neologism. (Like every other booker in those days, Rhodes stole much of his material from other Territorial promotions, under the then-reasonable presupposition that nobody would ever know. Though it must be said that this may be the only instance in pro wrestling history of someone denying credit for something so seminal.) In truth, though, the Dusty Finish is the zenith of wrestling finishes, the very jive-soul of the craft. Wins are meaningless without the journey, and the journey is insufferable without the tease. When Rhodes "won" the NWA title from Flair that night at Starrcade 1985, when he basked in the adoration of the Greensboro Coliseum crowd, when he celebrated in the locker room, all of the ecstasy until the moment when the decision was revoked — that's just the tease. There's no lasting satisfaction. The Dusty Finish is the blue balls of pro wrestling.
Which might not sound like a good thing, but in terms of making you want it even more than you did a day before, it's a powerful … er … tool to have in the pro wrestling … er … toolbox. Wrestling is storytelling. It's mythmaking, every Monday night, spread out over months and years. Without delayed gratification, victories would be dictated by crowd response, the title would change hands at every pay-per-view, and all the story lines in the world would dry up in a matter of months. And, above all else, fans wouldn't be happy. Delayed gratification that hopefully leads to a greater payoff, watching the hero's continuing struggle — it's what makes stories into legends.
That's precisely what happened at Night of Champions and in its immediate aftermath. Midway through the Orton-Bryan match, referee Scott Armstrong got knocked out and a replacement ref was brought in. After coming back to his senses and convincing the replacement that he had regained his facilities, Armstrong retook his place and ended up scoring Bryan's victory. Except his three-count was clearly too fast. Despite the fact that Orton stayed down for much longer than three seconds, the ending of the match was thrown into question.
On Monday, Raw opened with Triple H rescinding the win and holding the WWE Championship "in abeyance" until a suitable remedy could be determined. It was a textbook Dusty Finish. Rewatching the match, it's not clear that Armstrong getting knocked out was even necessary to the ending — it was just a nice touch, a nod to tradition. The implication — if one takes Triple H's reprimand and subsequent firing of Armstrong at less than face value — is that the ref was in on the sting. Armstrong was Triple H's fail-safe even as he tried to look magnanimous by outlawing interference in the match. It was Dusty Finish by corporate diktat. In the Reality Era, there's no force more villainous than the front office.
Gotta be patient with this storyline, brehs.
Two parts.
Wrestling and the Chase
Daniel Bryan, the WWE Championship, and the art of delayed gratification
By The Masked Man on September 19, 2013
Sunday at Night of Champions, Daniel Bryan faced WWE Champ Randy Orton, the corporate-sponsored d-bag who cashed in his Money in the Bank title shot last month after Bryan won the belt from John Cena. Bryan versus Orton might not have been Dusty Rhodes versus Ric Flair circa 1985, but you wouldn't know it from the way the fans were screaming. Orton is backed by the newly diabolical McMahon clan, who want a more suitable champion than Bryan, while Bryan has united WWE fans in a way that hasn't been seen in ages. In a surprising turn of events, vile COO (and McMahon son-in-law) Triple H outlawed any interference in the match — odd because the Orton-McMahon regime thrived precisely because of ongoing assists from the Shield and other shenanigans. And once the match was left to an unadulterated one-on-one contest, Bryan won. Let me repeat: Bryan won! The crowd went wild! It almost felt like an all-time epic moment in the modern pro wrestling landscape.
Except it didn't, not really. Because the win didn't count.
It's been exactly a year since I wrote about the sacred art of the Dusty Finish, the match-ending technique popularized by Dusty Rhodes in his run as booker (and star) of the Crocketts' NWA bastion, Mid-Atlantic Wrestling. (Commonly known in those days just as the NWA, it would later morph into WCW.) It's a brilliant move that worked wonders at the tail end of the Territorial Era to draw out tension and delay gratification in favor of short-lived, wrongheaded joys. In its most classical form, the hero (Dusty Rhodes himself, often) would be facing the bad-guy champion (Ric Flair) after months (or years) of chasing him, and now he finally beats him and wins the title — except the referee who was knocked out at some point during the match regains consciousness and reverses the replacement ref's decision. Here's how I described the thought process:
From a booking perspective, the goal of this reversal was to give fans the satisfaction of a Rhodes win without changing the status quo. That way, the thinking went, the eventual rematch between Flair and Rhodes would be even bigger. This is, after all, how pro wrestling works: The villain's comeuppance is never really in question; it's only a matter of time, place, and, ultimately, economics. But there was also an old-fashioned aspect to the way Starrcade 85 played out — above all else, the status quo had to be maintained.
The Dusty Finish is much derided today, mostly for its overuse by middling practitioners and for its catchy name, which is really only incidentally credited to Rhodes, who groans at the neologism. (Like every other booker in those days, Rhodes stole much of his material from other Territorial promotions, under the then-reasonable presupposition that nobody would ever know. Though it must be said that this may be the only instance in pro wrestling history of someone denying credit for something so seminal.) In truth, though, the Dusty Finish is the zenith of wrestling finishes, the very jive-soul of the craft. Wins are meaningless without the journey, and the journey is insufferable without the tease. When Rhodes "won" the NWA title from Flair that night at Starrcade 1985, when he basked in the adoration of the Greensboro Coliseum crowd, when he celebrated in the locker room, all of the ecstasy until the moment when the decision was revoked — that's just the tease. There's no lasting satisfaction. The Dusty Finish is the blue balls of pro wrestling.
Which might not sound like a good thing, but in terms of making you want it even more than you did a day before, it's a powerful … er … tool to have in the pro wrestling … er … toolbox. Wrestling is storytelling. It's mythmaking, every Monday night, spread out over months and years. Without delayed gratification, victories would be dictated by crowd response, the title would change hands at every pay-per-view, and all the story lines in the world would dry up in a matter of months. And, above all else, fans wouldn't be happy. Delayed gratification that hopefully leads to a greater payoff, watching the hero's continuing struggle — it's what makes stories into legends.
That's precisely what happened at Night of Champions and in its immediate aftermath. Midway through the Orton-Bryan match, referee Scott Armstrong got knocked out and a replacement ref was brought in. After coming back to his senses and convincing the replacement that he had regained his facilities, Armstrong retook his place and ended up scoring Bryan's victory. Except his three-count was clearly too fast. Despite the fact that Orton stayed down for much longer than three seconds, the ending of the match was thrown into question.
On Monday, Raw opened with Triple H rescinding the win and holding the WWE Championship "in abeyance" until a suitable remedy could be determined. It was a textbook Dusty Finish. Rewatching the match, it's not clear that Armstrong getting knocked out was even necessary to the ending — it was just a nice touch, a nod to tradition. The implication — if one takes Triple H's reprimand and subsequent firing of Armstrong at less than face value — is that the ref was in on the sting. Armstrong was Triple H's fail-safe even as he tried to look magnanimous by outlawing interference in the match. It was Dusty Finish by corporate diktat. In the Reality Era, there's no force more villainous than the front office.
Some people want instant satisfaction in this day, impatient for the 
that they go 
"Comeon, someone pin Cena's ass already."
I'll give you that he does a good work explaining current characters and storylines.
So when he gets shyt wrong and writes as if he knows it irks me a little bit. Like, he was on the BS Report agreeing with Bill Simmons about how weird it was that Mr Perfect was never given the chance to main event instead of Bret. And the answer is pretty simple: Perfect drew like shyt when working against Hogan (when he was still hot as hell) so he had a bad reputation in that sense, he also had injury problems so he wasn't a reliable guy to put in that position.
Not his worse so that's something. 
Another long winded article defending this overrated storyline. nikkas really think they reinventing the wheel this shyt.
