This review was commissioned by Been Thrifty over on my Ko-fi account.
For being the first ever Iron Man in WCW, Steamboat and Rude feel like masters of it immediately. At this point in time, the Iron Man had been a house show attraction in the WWF, and had yet to receive the mainstream attention that would be brought by the Mania XII main event, but Steamboat and Rude bring it to WCW pay-per-view and leave an indelible mark on the stipulation for decades to come.
It’s perhaps easy to take for granted what they do here if one just looks at the Iron Man match’s history overall. It doesn’t go a full hour, there’s no major title on the line, and there’s none of the chaotic gimmickry that the WWE would add to it through matches like Rock/Hunter or Cena/Orton. And that’s what makes revisiting the first iterations of these things so key—finding the origins of tropes. Back before they were even tropes, they were just natural extensions of the circumstances of the match brought on by the character dynamics inherent between Rude and Steamboat.
This happens a lot in pro wrestling. Things that were created or designed to be organic moments in time, instead become tools to be reached for over and over. In this 1992 bout, we see many of the classic Iron Man ideas at play, but what strikes me more than anything on this viewing is how seamless it feels. The structure feels not only entirely correct based on who these two are as wrestlers, but also spontaneous and real in a way that’s rare to replicate by those who try to emulate it.
There’s a nuance too in how these wrestlers approach the stipulation. From a pure mechanical standpoint, Rude and Steamboat are just so far ahead of a million other American TV wrestlers. Whether that be in the pure physicality and how crisp all their offense looks or the more intangible character work that informs the structure and emotion of the match. Take for instance how the first third of the bout is an extended Steamboat babyface shine. Something like Steamboat attacking Rude at the bell can be read as the babyface being sick and tired of Dangerous Alliance shenanigans and wanting to get straight into the action. Steamboat then initiates a lengthy body work segment that Rude sells wonderfully throughout.
On paper, it might feel incorrect for a babyface to have such a targeted attack, and be so successful with it early on. But again, it’s the details in the moment that make it all sing. Steamboat’s early attack, while never feeling outwardly malicious, certainly does feel fueled by anger. It’s an anger that’s occasionally blinding. Rude’s able to cut off a charge into the turnbuckle with a rising knee early, but Steamboat doesn’t retain this lesson and gets caught with another later on that knocks him out to give Rude the first fall.
Here’s where they really move into the masterful nature of the bout. Rude makes Steamboat pay for his early bullheadedness, but never in a way that brings us to his side. That flash knockout feels cheap, almost lucky, not anything brought about through any real achievement on Rude’s end. This ensures we remain on Steamboat’s side, and want to see him through to the end. Rude’s especially brilliant in capitalizing on his control as well. He stacks up his points by attacking the downed Steamboat, and only gives up his first point by illegally coming off the top for a knee drop.
The rest of the bout plays off these dynamics so well. Rude constantly feels cheap and mean with his offense, especially when adding in classic heel tactics such as using the turnbuckles as a weapon or consistently gouging at Steamboat’s eyes. There’s even a great bit of wonderful body selling from Rude here, not being able to complete his trademark hip swivel due to the damage that Steamboat had inflicted. All of this is helped by having one of pro wrestling’s greatest ever babyfaces as Rude’s dance partners. Steamboat’s selling here always distinguishes itself from Rude’s, being far more sympathetic and connected to the audience. Any time Rude slaps a hold on Steamboat, the exhaustions sets in on Steamboat’s face, we can almost see the light fading from his eyes. But when the crowd gets behind him? Those fires start to burn and Steamboat times his comebacks to the rising fever pitch of the crowd. It’s the kind of in-the-moment presence that defines the all-time greats.
Together too, they pace this out with such ease. Every segment of the match breezes by, such that any time one’s eye moves towards the ticking clock in the corner, more time had passed than one initially imagined. A half hour that feels like a tight 20, broken down into 10 minute segments that feel half their length. All accompanied with the rising falling emotion of heel heat and babyface comeback. Anticipation and pay off at every turn, getting the most out of every single spot and moment. My favorite example might be Steamboat’s Tombstone reversal that earns him his first pinfall. Any longtime wrestling fan has seen the Tombstone be reversed by shifting one’s weight to tip the attacker into position. Steamboat does a variation of that here, but one that forces us to zone in on his effort and struggle to achieve it. Before tipping back onto his feet, he first climbs his hands up Rude’s body to get the right leverage to achieve the reversal. Just a small thing to create more anticipation for something we’ve all seen a thousand times, and thus making the eventual achievement feel so much richer.
It’s a match that seemingly gets better every time I see it. From the patience they use to milk every hold for all its worth, to the way Rude pays for all his sins in turn, to the growing anticipation for Steamboat’s climactic final fall, and the mad dash to survive the final seconds of the bout.
Without question, a masterclass in American pro wrestling.
IS IT BETTER THAN 6/3/94? When I first covered this bout for my 1992 Best of video, it didn’t make the cut for the Better than 6/3/94 tier. But as with many things this timeless and classic, it only seems to mature with time and distance. There’s a much hotter crowd in the Budokan for the Triple Crown Title match, but I don’t know that Misawa and Kawada ever truly achieve the same kind of masterful structuring and manipulation of emotional payoff that Steamboat and Rude do here. This one has definitely climbed in my 1992 rankings based on this viewing, so Steamboat and Rude take the win here. Can you believe it’s only the second best match on the show?
Rating: ****1/2
