The very first good vs. evil wrestling match was held in heaven, long before there were any people, Madison Square Garden, or even the Fabulous Moolah. There was a babyface angel named Lucifer who was getting over like crazy. Everybody loved him. He had a loyal band of followers that would make Antonio Inoki jealous, and the Big Promoter was pushing him as hard as he could. Even long-time mega-babyface Michael was beginning to feel the swell of Lucifer's power.
The heat began to build, and squabbles began to break out among the various factions. Finally, the Big Promoter called Lucifer on the carpet and spoke to him.
"Why are you screwing this up, Lu?" he asked sadly. "We've got a great operation going here, what do you have to mess with Mike for?"
"Because he has the belt."
"So? He's an archangel! He earned it! He's been at the top for a long time."
"Maybe too long."
"You think so?"
"The angels are getting bored, boss. It's too static. Those gods on Olympus are even throwing down challenges to us! Shoot, I'd like to take that Thor and ...."
"Please, Lu, if we respond to them, we're acknowledging them as equals. We ignore them. But back to this thing with you and Mike. You sure this is the only way it gets settled?"
"The only way."
"The terms?"
"Loser leaves town."
The Big Promoter sighed. "Make it so."
The match started clean, but before long, Lucifer yanked a handful of feathers from Michael's wings and stuffed them down his throat after tying him up in the ropes. The crowd had never seen anything like this and reacted accordingly. They began booing Lucifer, except for his hardcores who chanted, "Loo-Sih-Fuh! Loo-Sih-Fuh!" with malicious glee as their "hero" threw angel dust in Michael's eyes.
The arch angel was blinded and looked to be in deep trouble. Lucifer set him up for the Sulphuric Suplex, followed by a Brimstone Buster and the pin. The referee looked imploringly up to the Big Promoter, who gave a subtle, but significant sign. The referee dropped slowly to his hands and knees and began a slow, slooooooow count. Somehow, miraculously, Michael kicked out at 2.9. His eyes still blurry, he made out the oncoming form of Lucifer, nostrils flaring, charging down on him like Jos LeDuc on crank.
Even in his dazed state, however, Michael was the most agile of angels, and he deftly sidestepped the bull-like rush and Lucifer crotched himself on the top rope. For a moment, Michael was unsure as to whether he should pin his opponent, but then he shrugged, hooked the leg and took a fast three count.
Needless to say, Lucifer was quite unhappy about the Promoter's interference in the match and thereafter took his followers to a new, warmer territory where they specialized in the wildest matches this side of Atsushi Onita.
"Better to run a territory in hell," Lucifer bellowed at his former boss, "than to do jobs in heaven!"
Bill "Potshot" Kunkel has been a valued contributor to Wrestling Perspective since 1993. The above column was one of his first for Wrestling Perspective and is illustrative of the classic timeless Potshot touch.
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