Clash of the Champions XXV — WCW Finds Starrcade, Breaks the Blonds and Reverses the Ending

Rick Rude opens the twenty-fifth Clash defending the Big Gold Belt against Road Warrior Hawk, which sounds considerably more important than the five minutes WCW gives it. Hawk overpowers Rude, no-sells the turnbuckle shots and spends enough time posing that the match never develops a second gear. Rude finally attacks the back, Hawk answers with a boot and clothesline, and then both men simply brawl on the floor until the referee counts them out. The championship survives, nobody loses, and the audience gets a finish that feels less like protection than an administrative error. Rude's bad back explains the caution. It does not make the opener satisfying.

The Shockmaster has survived the wall, the helmet and immortality, so WCW's next move is to turn him into a friendly construction worker and let The Equalizer hit him for two minutes. The crowd reacts more to the character's reputation than anything happening between the ropes. Equalizer controls briefly, Shockmaster makes the inevitable comeback and the bearhug slam ends it before the joke can become painful. There is almost nothing here to evaluate as competitive wrestling. The historical curiosity is watching WCW attempt to salvage a character whose debut had already defined him more completely than any subsequent booking possibly could.

Lord Steven Regal and Johnny B. Badd are capable of a much better match than this, and six minutes mostly demonstrates the difference between possibility and television time. Badd wins the early exchanges with speed, Regal slows him into headlocks and uppercuts, and the crowd actually begins chanting boredom before the champion can establish much control. Badd's left hand creates the obvious near fall, but Sir William places Regal's foot on the rope. Badd chases the manager, Regal catches him with a roll-up and a handful of tights, and the title stays put. The mechanics are clean. The match feels like an abbreviated chapter rather than a championship statement.

The Hollywood Blonds explode in a match built around familiarity rather than hatred. Pillman knows Austin's counters, Austin knows where Pillman wants to springboard, and nearly every meaningful exchange has the rhythm of former partners trying to beat each other to the next idea. That makes the nine minutes feel faster than anything else on the show. Pillman spits on the offered handshake, escapes the Stun Gun and keeps creating near falls until Colonel Robert Parker finally changes the equation. Parker trips Pillman on the springboard, Austin catches the fall and steals the pin with extra leverage. The finish is cheap, but the wrestling makes the breakup feel like a lost opportunity rather than a dead act.

Dustin Rhodes and Paul Orndorff are ostensibly wrestling for the United States championship, but the camera keeps reminding viewers that Dusty Rhodes and the masked Assassin are the actual feud. That imbalance drains the title match of urgency. Dustin and Orndorff work the arm, trade deliberate mat sequences and periodically gesture toward the piledriver before the older men at ringside reclaim the attention. Orndorff misses a top-rope knee, Dustin catches the small package and retains. Then the real angle begins, with Assassin attacking Dustin and Dusty throwing elbows until the heels overwhelm him. The crowd loves Dusty. The championship feels like a prop in somebody else's reunion.

Rick Rude attacks Davey Boy Smith before the bell, which effectively turns a tag-title match into Sting surviving alone until the injured Bulldog can stand. Sting is one of the few wrestlers capable of making that structure work because the crowd believes every comeback and forgives every stretch of Nasty Boys control. When Bulldog finally tags in, the match suddenly becomes fun: powerslams, double DDTs, a press of Sting onto both champions and a near fall that should end it. Instead the referee escorts Sting away while Jerry Sags drops an elbow onto Bulldog, allowing Brian Knobbs to steal the pin. The hot tag is good. The finish is another shortcut.

Ric Flair versus Vader here is not Starrcade 1993, but it is the sketch that proves the masterpiece can work. Vader overwhelms Flair with size, Harley Race supplies the cheap shots and Flair survives by changing his usual approach: more movement, more top-rope offense and less pretending he can simply outwrestle a four-hundred-pound champion. The crowd finally wakes up when Flair gets the figure-four and then explodes when Vader misses the moonsault and Flair appears to score the pin. Randy Anderson instead announces a disqualification because Vader had clotheslined him moments earlier. The giant pop disappears into confusion. The match works. The finish tells you exactly why Starrcade will need something better.