The Great American Bash 1998: WCW Builds a Great First Half and Then Forgets the Point

Booker T and Chris Benoit open the show with the advantage of six previous matches worth of familiarity. Nothing feels exploratory. Benoit immediately attacks Booker's arm and leg, Booker knows where the counters are, and the crowd reacts to every escalation as if it has been following the series instead of simply watching one isolated match. That history gives ordinary transitions more weight than most WCW openers receive.

The final stretch is excellent. Benoit's dragon suplex, diving headbutt, and near falls make the possibility of a series victory feel real, while Booker survives long enough to create the comeback that the crowd wants. Two Harlem Sidekicks and the missile dropkick finally end the series at 4-3. Contemporary and modern reviews consistently identify this as the best match on the show, and that consensus is deserved.

Kanyon and Saturn follow a great opener with a match that is more interesting than its placement suggests. Kanyon's offense still looks unusual because so many of his counters arrive from unfamiliar angles, while Saturn brings enough stiffness to make the exchanges feel competitive rather than exhibitionist. The Flock's presence gives the match story context without immediately consuming it.

The final minutes become more complicated than they need to be. Two Mortis lookalikes fight outside, Saturn becomes distracted, and Kanyon capitalizes with the Flatliner. Raven then reveals himself and uses the loss to punish Saturn, pushing the broader Flock breakup forward. The interference costs the match some clarity, but the wrestling before it is solid. Several retrospectives identify this as a pleasant surprise, and that feels accurate.

Chris Jericho and Dean Malenko are working with one of WCW's hottest midcard stories, and the match carries that tension immediately. Jericho's arrogance is not decoration; every taunt is designed to push Malenko toward the emotional mistake that eventually costs him. The wrestling between those moments is sharp, with suplex counters, mat reversals, and both men attacking the back in ways that make the submission attempts feel earned.

The finish is simultaneously satisfying as character work and frustrating as championship wrestling. Jericho insults Malenko's late father, Malenko snaps, and the fight spills outside until a chair shot causes the disqualification. The post-match chase into the street is memorable, but the vacant title situation remains messy. It is a good match deliberately sacrificed to continue the feud, which keeps it below the opener despite excellent work.

Juventud Guerrera is asked to make a nearly absurd size disadvantage believable against Reese. His speed creates a few useful openings, and the crowd is willing to support him whenever he escapes a power move. Reese can look imposing simply by catching Juventud out of the air, which gives the match a visual story without needing much explanation.

The problem is that the match spends too long proving the same point. Juventud is repeatedly overwhelmed, Reese stops to admire his work, and the comeback never becomes convincing on its own. Van Hammer eventually uses a chair to create the winning opening, so even the underdog victory belongs partly to someone outside the match. Contemporary reviews were brutal, and the criticism holds up. It is a long setup for a small payoff.

Eddie Guerrero and Chavo Guerrero Jr. understand that the match is not simply about who is technically better. Eddie has spent months controlling and humiliating his nephew, while Chavo has become increasingly unstable under that pressure. The opening reflects that story: Eddie wants to slow things down and avoid the fight, while Chavo is desperate to prove he can beat him.

Once the wrestling settles in, the family chemistry takes over. Eddie attacks the knee, Chavo counters familiar offense, and both men use small expressions to keep the character story visible without stopping the match. Eddie misses the frog splash, Chavo survives long enough to hit the springboard tornado DDT, and the upset lands cleanly. It is one of the few matches on the card where the angle and the wrestling improve each other.

Booker T returns after already wrestling more than sixteen demanding minutes against Chris Benoit, and the fatigue becomes part of the match whether WCW planned it that way or not. Fit Finlay immediately attacks the leg and slows the pace, forcing Booker to wrestle from underneath rather than repeat the athletic rhythm of the opener. The strategy makes sense, especially against a challenger carrying damage into a second match.

The problem is that the control segment lasts long enough to cool the crowd. Finlay's work is logical but repetitive, and Booker has less explosiveness available for the comeback. The title change still receives a strong response because the audience has followed Booker's entire night. The piledriver finish is awkward, yet the emotional result works. This is solid wrestling attached to a better story than the match itself.

Goldberg enters at the height of his ascent, with WCW presenting the match as his 100th victory. The Baltimore crowd reacts accordingly. Konnan gets almost no meaningful control, and that is intentional because the entire point is to show that Goldberg can tear through another recognizable opponent without slowing down. The spear and Jackhammer remain enormously over.

As a wrestling match, there is very little to evaluate. The segment lasts under two minutes and functions mainly as a milestone plus setup for Curt Hennig and Rick Rude turning on Konnan afterward. That angle is historically useful because it reinforces the nWo split, but it is separate from the competitive quality. Goldberg looks like a star. The match is still a squash on a major pay-per-view.

The names make the match look bigger than the wrestling does. Hollywood Hogan, Bret Hart, Roddy Piper, and Randy Savage all carry enough history to generate interest before the bell, but the action quickly becomes a sequence of stalling, shortcuts, and interference. Bret provides most of the technical movement, while Hogan and Piper work at a pace that makes every transition feel longer than it is.

Savage's injured knee becomes the central story, and Bret eventually wins with the Sharpshooter. That should create sympathy and close the issue for the night. Instead, WCW immediately sends Savage into another match with Piper. The tag therefore feels less like a major attraction than a setup mechanism. The star power is obvious; the actual wrestling never earns it.

Roddy Piper and Randy Savage begin immediately after Savage has submitted to Bret Hart because of damage to his knee. That should make a second match impossible in any sports-based presentation, yet WCW treats the stipulation as more important than the injury story it just spent eleven minutes establishing. Savage attacks anyway, lands the elbow, and then hurts the knee again.

Piper applies the figure-four and Savage submits in under two minutes. There is no time for a real match, no new story is created, and the result makes the previous tag feel even more contrived. This is the clearest example of the top of the card becoming trapped in its own stipulations. The segment is not just short; it actively makes the surrounding booking worse.

Sting and The Giant enter as co-holders of the WCW World Tag Team Championships despite now belonging to opposing nWo factions, which is exactly as complicated as it sounds. The match is designed to settle control of both belts, with the winner allowed to select a new partner. Once the bell rings, the wrestling is thankfully much simpler. Giant uses size, Sting sells, and the crowd rallies behind the Wolfpac member.

The closing sequence has enough drama because Giant survives multiple Scorpion Death Drops before Sting finally wins with a third variation from the ropes. The crowd responds and Sting leaves with both belts, later choosing Kevin Nash. It is not a bad match, but six minutes and a highly artificial premise keep it from feeling like a great pay-per-view main event. The undercard had already produced the night's best wrestling.