Wrestling is for idiots? You tell him.
John Spong / Texas Monthly
THE FRENCH COULD NOT HAVE ROOTED ANY LOUDER for Lindbergh to land safely than the sellout crowd of 18,000 is screaming for Stone Cold Steve Austin to shake free of the sleeper hold that has dropped him first to one knee, then both, in the center of the ring at Dallas’ Reunion Arena. (Nor were any Frenchmen spotted on the runway waving large foam rubber hands with just the middle finger extended, but…oh, never mind.) Perched on Austin’s shoulders piggyback-style, applying the pressure that has apparently rendered him unconscious, is a longhaired three-hundred-pound embodiment of evil named the Undertaker. At Austin’s right is a wisp of a referee who is about to count him out, which would allow the ’Taker to retain the World Wrestling Federation (WWF) championship belt he stole from Austin some weeks back. With both hands, the ref lifts Austin’s massive right arm over his head and watches it slump lifelessly down to his side. “One!” hollers the ref to the judges at ringside, holding up a single bony finger to compensate for his voice, which is being drowned out by the increasingly desperate crowd.
He lifts Austin’s arm a second time. It falls limply again, and up goes the ref’s hand. “Two,” he mouths, completely inaudible now.
“Kick his ass, Austin. Kick his ass!” come the cries from the arena as the ref lifts his arm a third and final time. But when the ref lets go…a miracle: Austin’s hand hovers, weakly at first, and then slowly all the fingers but one recede into a fist. Suddenly the crowd recognizes his trademark gesture, the one that might get your car keyed if you do it in traffic—the one that signals to the Undertaker that he is indeed about to get his ass kicked. In a flash Austin is up, shooting the finger at the ’Taker with both barrels. He briefly pummels his face, then quickly applies the Stone Cold Stunner, his unbeatable closing move. He lays the ’Taker flat out, maybe dead. The belt will be his again.
Or so it seems. Before the Undertaker can be counted out, his father, Paul Bearer, reaches under the ropes, grabs the ref’s leg, and pulls him into the crowd. At the same moment, two members of the ’Taker’s Corporate Ministry, a quasi-Satanic cult bent on taking control of the WWF, jump Austin in the ring, allowing the ’Taker to escape. With two Stunners, Austin dispatches the interlopers, but the damage is done: Because he wins on a disqualification, he cannot be the champion.
