Bret said Bulldog had been awake for several days straight off that crank and forgot the entire match. Be a junkie brehs. HitGOAT
As the summer slipped away, I spent my time training...I constantly phoned Davey down in Florida, but all Diana could tell me was that he was out with Jim [‘The Anvil’ Neidhart] somewhere. I finally tracked Jim down just hours before I was leaving for England and was shocked when he told me that he’d just taken Davey and Diana to the airport. Davey was high as a kite when he caught his flight, Jim said, because he’d been up all night smoking crack with him! Jim told me that Davey had a gorilla on his back and he was worried about him. I wished Jim would take a good look at himself.
I couldn’t have been more disappointed in Davey, and feared he would end up making us both look bad. I remembered Vince asking me, back in Binghamton, if I was sure I could go on last in the main event.
“I can promise you nobody will be able to follow us!” I’d said. And when I asked Vince whether he wanted me to run the finish past him, he told me, “I don’t want to know; surprise me.” I’d never, ever heard him say that to anyone else before—or after—but now I truly had no idea what surprises the match was likely to have in store.
When I arrived in London, hundreds of fans poured out of the hotel lobby to chant my name in the streets. I set out to find Davey, but he was off somewhere with Diana and his family. I didn’t see him until the required entrance rehearsal at Wembley Stadium the night before the show. When I asked him why he hadn’t returned my calls all summer, he wasn’t able to look me in the eye. He fessed up that he’d been smoking crack with Jim for weeks and was now terrified. He’d gone back to being that same helpless kid I’d rescued from Dynamite ten years earlier.
“Trust me, Davey, and I’ll do all I can to get you through tomorrow, okay?”
He nodded, and I sat him down for a crash course, going over and over our match and making him recite the moves back to me. It was now completely up to me to save our match.
As I stood nose to nose with Davey he appeared to be every bit as determined, both of us unflinching warriors refusing to give way before battle.
Back in the ring, Joey gave Davey and me the rules, the three of us momentarily awestruck by the size of the crowd. We pushed off with Davey looking strong and serious. The crowd was ours and the bell sounded. At first Davey outmaneuvered me with simple and realistic wrestling, but after only a few minutes, he was breathing hard.
“Bret, I’m fooked,” Davey panted as I had him clamped in a side headlock. “I can’t remember anything!”
“Davey, just listen to me, I’ll carry you.”
Joey shot me a worried look. This would be the test of my career.
“Bret, I’m fooked,” Davey panted as I had him clamped in a side headlock. “I can’t remember anything!”
So, that’s how it was, me calling out every single high spot for Davey, sometimes even the necessary facial expressions, helping him conserve what little stamina he had for a comeback that was still more than thirty minutes away. Every time Davey picked me up, I went up like a feather. He went up for me like a full refrigerator.
I made sure I didn’t overdo it as a heel, knowing the fans would forgive me in the end when I lost. Twenty-five minutes into the match I locked Davey in a sleeper hold, and the crowd immediately got behind him, cheering him on to revive himself as he crawled to the ropes gasping for air. I snapped a beautiful boot straight into his face, grazing the tip of his nose like I’d snapped it hard with my finger to wake him up.
The drama built, layer upon layer, as every move that came followed a logic that never detracted from the story. I hit Davey with my whole arsenal, finally locking on the sleeper again. As he sank to his knees, I called the spots into his ear, and he rose up to his feet with me on his back. Staggering backward, he rammed me into the corner with all his weight, nearly snapping my neck in half on the top rope for real! But there was no time to sell as I slapped on the sleeper one more time. Again, Davey sank to his knees, as Joey muttered, “Do you guys hear that crowd? This is unbelievable!”
We went into a beautiful sequence of moves, ending up with an old Hart Foundation–-Bulldogs spot where a groggy Davey went for a press slam but lost his balance and accidentally crotched me on the ropes, to the roar of the crowd.
I’d carried him as far as possible, and now Davey took over for his long-awaited comeback. I called out all his big moves for him, and after I’d taken them all, Davey dragged me to my feet by my singlet straps, revived enough to signal with his hands that it was time to finish me off with his running powerslam! Always incredibly strong, Davey easily twirled me over his shoulder and charged across the ring, flattening me to the mat for the one . . . two. . . but this time it was me who astounded the crowd by barely kicking out! Clutching his face, a tearful Davey only half feigned amazement as he finally realized that I’d put together a masterpiece.
I dragged myself to the ropes and fell out to the apron. Davey suplexed me back in, but I dropped behind him, gripped him tightly around the waist, and jerked him into a perfect German suplex. This time Davey kicked out!
As we got to our feet I attempted a front suplex, but Davey didn’t budge. Instead, he blocked it, lifted me straight up, and dropped me painfully hard on the top corner strut, nearly castrating me. A half-inch over and the match would have ended right then and there!
Davey climbed up to the top corner and, before he had time to think about it, we did a standing vertical suplex off the top, crashing to the mat below. This was considered the most high-risk, breathtaking move in the business at that time.
As Davey draped an arm over me for the one . . . two . . . I kicked out again at the last possible second. The crowd was stunned, but they’d only seen the appetizers; the best was yet to come!
After a double clothesline, both Davey and I lay writhing in a heap as Joey started a ten-count. If the fans only knew that I had come up with this move one night at about three in the morning. I had woken Julie up and somehow managed to talk her into lying on the floor next to the bed to see whether it would work. Now I entwined my leg through Davey’s, and before anybody quite knew what I was up to I twisted him over into my sharpshooter with no escape . . . right in the middle of the ring!
“Nobody had ever escaped the sharpshooter before!”
The crowd went nuts as I fought with all my strength to stop Davey from crawling to the ropes, dragging me behind him. When he reached them, there was an explosion of relief. Nobody had ever escaped the sharpshooter before! As I dragged myself to my feet, exhausted, I could see my invisible banana peel lying in the middle of the ring. Joey kept muttering, “Unbelievable!”
The time had come to break the hearts of all my fans and forever change my destiny. “Let’s go home!” I called as I slammed one last lifter into Davey’s chest, rocking him hard enough to send sweat flying into the air. I squeezed his wrist as the cue to reverse me into the ropes, and I dove over him for a sunset flip, the simplest move in wrestling. But instead of falling backwards, we did the old Leo Burke finish: Davey fell forward, hooking my legs with his arms, collapsing on top of me and pinning me beautifully. One . . . two . . . three! We did it! I did it!
There was a deafening roar as “Rule Britannia” played and Joey gave Davey the IC belt. After thirty- seven grueling minutes, I lay on the mat feigning being heartbroken, but in fact I was elated. I was also exhausted and in considerable pain, but I knew that the handshake at the end would top it all off, the last detail in this drama.
“He’d completely missed one of the tiny moments that can make it all more real. But what could I do? The torch had been passed.”
I made out that I was too pissed off to shake Davey’s hand. I’d planned all of this with Davey, but it became painfully obvious to me that he’d forgotten all about it. I desperately tried to make eye contact, but he was oblivious as Diana climbed into the ring crying, I can only assume for real. I’m thinking, C’mon, Davey, look at me and we’ll make them all cry, but Davey never caught on. Instead he was trying to milk the crowd. I was thinking, The drama is with me, not them, for fukk’s sake please look at me, Davey! After too many attempts I gave up and just walked over and shook his hand. He’d completely missed one of the tiny moments that can make it all more real. But what could I do? The torch had been passed.
Everything hurt, even my fingers were sore.
When I got back to the dressing room most of the boys had already left on the bus, but the ones who’d seen the match seemed blown away. I understood the art of losing and the power of sympathy. I knew that in the weeks to come, it would be me who was over; over more than Warrior, Savage, Flair, even Davey. All of them had been excellently executed!
I’ve always believed this was my greatest match, especially because I’d carried Davey all the way through it without anyone being the wiser. My dad would tell me later that it’s one thing to have a great match, but it’s another thing to have a great match in front of eighty thousand people."
H.i.t.g.o.a.t.
He was pulling out Lance Storm specials for the hell of it
?
