This review was commissioned by Colette Arrand over on my Ko-fi account.
The worst thing about this match is that it’s not about Sting at all. As I’ve learned going through Hunter month on BIG EGG, alongside the person who so cruelly commissioned this review, Triple H has a knack for twisting the booking in his favor to end up the hero of the moment despite nominally playing a heel in the grand picture of things. That kind of moral disconnect pervades the entirety of this match—in both action and presentation.
Take the hype video, for example. Before it starts painting Hunter as this deranged, power hungry heel, it must first assume his perspective: that of being a loyal, stalwart defender of the good name of the WWE. Even when it does begin to depict him as a heel, the most important thing about the hype video, and the match as a whole, is that this is a story told from Triple H’s point of view.
Lots of people have already mocked the stupid Terminator entrance in the past, but it’s deployed so maliciously here. Not only does it look cheap and tacky, it also ties Hunter to the sponsor product on hand, which can’t help but paint him in a heroic light. We can’t have our villains selling our products after all. Notice too Triple H hoisting the skulls of fallen Terminators in his hands, as if he as well is a heroic T-800 sent to dispatch the wicked from the earth.
He’s such a miserable prick.
In that sense, there’s really no hope for Sting from the get go. It is not about him in the slightest, and Hunter has no regard for the kind of historical disrespect he has to enact in order to once again position himself as the main character of the drama at hand. All of Triple H’s best friends get to play here, even those from the opposition. It doesn’t even bother me too much that it’s the nWo coming to Sting’s aid here—something similar and better was achieved in Sting’s actual retirement with Flair—but to have them so effectively neutralized by the forces of D-Generaish feels truly spiteful.
So too do any attempts to give Sting some shine here. When Sting finally grabs that Scorpion Deathlock on Hunter, it’s only so the latter can valiantly endure it for what feels like an eternity without tapping out. Sting’s able to snap Hunter’s sledgehammer in half with his baseball bat, but the latter only needs one half to put him down for three.
And then after the match too, Triple H being the one to have to extend his hand in friendship? Positioning himself as the man whose respect needed earning in this narrative. Truly vomit-inducing as far as masturbatory Triple H booking choices go. And really think about the ground that covers.
Despicable match, hate it.
Rating: WE WON DA WAR
