Fall Brawl '97: War Games — WCW Builds a Good Show, Then Lets Curt Hennig Kick the Horsemen Through the Door

Eddie Guerrero and Chris Jericho open the show by proving that WCW's cruiserweight division did not need frantic motion every second to feel important. The first half is deliberately slower, with Eddie stalling, complaining and turning every neutral exchange into another excuse to antagonize the crowd. Jericho controls more of the wrestling than modern memory suggests, which makes Guerrero's opportunism matter when the match accelerates. The final run is excellent: the release German, consecutive powerbombs, Eddie landing on top of Jericho's superplex attempt, and the Frog Splash all build naturally. Leighty and TJR both land in the three-and-a-half to three-and-three-quarter-star range. The match earns that neighborhood.

The Steiner Brothers and Harlem Heat work a match that is easy to enjoy and difficult to remember in isolation because WCW had revisited the pairing so many times. Stevie Ray and Scott Steiner provide the power base, Booker T keeps the movement sharp, and Rick's explosive offense gives the closing stretch the jolt it needs. The crowd remains invested because both teams are credible and the Steiners are still chasing the Outsiders' championships. Nothing is especially innovative, but very little is wasted. The German-suplex-and-clothesline finish lands cleanly and gives the Steiners another claim to a title shot. It is dependable tag-team wrestling on a card built from dependable depth.

Alex Wright and Último Dragón get almost nineteen minutes, a luxury that exposes a few quiet stretches but also lets the match develop beyond a standard television sprint. Wright's heel turn has made him more interesting because the dancing confidence now comes with a reason for the crowd to want somebody to wipe it off his face. Dragón works from underneath with crisp counters, an Asai moonsault and the Dragon Sleeper always looming as the threat Wright has to avoid. The German-suplex bridge finish is decisive and preserves Wright's momentum. Wrestling 20 Years Ago singled the match out as one of the card's better efforts, and that feels right: patient, technically sound, not spectacular.

Jeff Jarrett and Dean Malenko spend almost fifteen minutes demonstrating why 'solid' can be both praise and criticism. Jarrett stalls, complains about imaginary infractions and works the crowd exactly as expected. Malenko supplies the technical credibility and keeps the exchanges clean, but the match rarely develops a reason to feel essential. Scott Keith's retrospective lands around two-and-a-half stars and Wrestling 20 Years Ago calls it forgettable despite acknowledging that both men are capable. The figure-four finish gives Jarrett the victory and advances him toward a United States title opportunity that real-life contract movement would soon scramble. Nothing is broken here. Nothing catches fire either.

Wrath and Mortis against Meng and The Barbarian is the match most likely to be skipped by reputation and enjoyed by anyone who actually presses play. The power exchanges are stiff, Mortis gives the bigger men somebody to throw around, and Wrath looks increasingly comfortable as a heavyweight who can move. The Faces of Fear bring credibility because every strike from Meng or Barbarian looks like it could interrupt somebody's dental plan. Scott Keith rated the match three stars, and the praise makes sense. It never becomes elegant, nor should it. The bout works because everybody understands the assignment: hit hard, keep moving, and make twelve minutes feel more dangerous than the names on the poster imply.

The Giant versus Scott Norton is short enough to avoid becoming a problem and simple enough that nobody needs a map. Norton gets a brief window to show that his strength matters, but the match is ultimately about The Giant demonstrating that a seven-foot wrestler should not be able to move like this. The kip-up and dropkick are the remembered images because they look absurd coming from somebody that large, and the chokeslam ends matters before the novelty wears thin. Scott Keith hated most of the match but praised the finish, which is a fair summary. This is not good wrestling so much as five minutes of physical evidence that Paul Wight was a freakish athlete.

Diamond Dallas Page and Lex Luger against Randy Savage and Scott Hall feels like WCW remixing recent television rather than unveiling a pay-per-view attraction, but there is enough star power to keep the room engaged. Page does most of the useful work, Savage supplies urgency whenever he enters, and Hall remains excellent at making small moments feel larger through body language. Luger spends too much time removed from the action, and the finish shifts the real focus to Larry Zbyszko counting Hall down after the nWo has abused the referees. That angle matters for future business, but it also confirms that the match itself is secondary. Competent, heated and undeniably familiar.

The 1997 WarGames is remembered for Curt Hennig turning on the Four Horsemen, but the nineteen minutes before the betrayal deserve credit. Chris Benoit attacks Buff Bagwell with exactly the violence the feud requires, Syxx bumps like he has been fired from a cannon, and the alternating advantages keep the old WarGames rhythm intact. Then Hennig enters with the sling, reveals the injury as a ruse, handcuffs Benoit and Steve McMichael, and helps the nWo dismantle Ric Flair. McMichael surrenders to save Flair, only for Hennig to slam the cage door on Flair's head anyway. It is tremendous villainy and brutal imagery. Whether it generates heat or humiliates the Horsemen depends on the reviewer; historically, both readings have merit.