2/17/06

by Larry Matysik

The late, lamented Texas "Death Match." I miss it, don’t you?

Once upon a time, especially in St. Louis, the Texas "Death Match" was the culmination of particularly violent and nasty feud, often between two so-called heels. The rules were simple. Anything goes except choking. Low blows were not mentioned, but since nobody ever did anything that stupid, the issue wasn’t at play.

Falls did not count toward determining a winner. A fall only served to initiate a 30-second rest period, after which both combatants had to be able to answer the bell. If one could not continue, the survivor was deemed the winner.

Folks could count on guys being pitched over the top rope (normally a disqualification but not for a "Death Match"), brawling outside the ring, likely some blood, and plenty of action as generally four to seven or even eight falls were recorded before the end of the mayhem.

To me and thousands of fans in St. Louis, the Texas "Death Match" was Fritz Von Erich getting the better of Dick "the Bruiser" on April 17, 1964. When Dick missed an atomic drop from the top rope and injured his knee, the brutal battle hit a climax. "The Bruiser" could not stand for the next fall, thus he was ruled unable to continue and Von Erich got the triumph.

The Texas "Death Match" was Gene Kiniski grabbing the decision from Fritz Von Erich on May 14, 1965. During a violent battle on apron, Fritz made a sharp, quick move to grab Kiniski with the Iron Claw. The only problem was that Kiniski ducked and Fritz rammed his hand into the steel ring post. Von Erich was injured, especially after Kiniski threw Fritz over the top rope and then jumped from the apron to stomp on Fritz’s hand. Von Erich could not continue, and Kiniski was declared the winner.

The Texas "Death Match" was Johnny Valentine knocking off Wladek "Killer" Kowalski on Jan. 18, 1963. The best hold ever created for the "Death Match" was the sleeper hold, which Valentine used to send Kowalski to dream land. When the bell sounded for the next fall, "Killer" was still dozing on the mat. So guess who got his hand raised? Valentine, of course!

The first Texas "Death Match" in St. Louis was between Kiniski and "Whipper" Billy Watson on March 4, 1960. Kiniski nailed down a triumph and a sellout crowd was on hand, so promoter Sam Muchnick sparingly used the "Death Match" maybe once or at most twice a year to settle certain rivalries when it made sense.

Well into the 1970s, the Texas "Death Match" was a guaranteed showdown and big house for many combinations of main event stars. But all good things must come to an end apparently…

Things began going downhill for the "Death Match" on Sept. 19, 1975, when Harley Race defeated "The Bruiser." Before the card, Harley took me aside to explain the finish. Both Race and "The Bruiser" would be struggling to get their feet as the referee was counting to ten to start a fall. Race would stumble at nine, Dick would be up, and so "The Bruiser" would then win without "hurting" Harley.

The ten count had really never been advertised as a way to determine the ability to start a fall, although it had generally been in use. I asked if Harley thought the fans would understand the finish and he said he wanted to be sure I could explain it as the ring announcer.

They did, I did, and the fans sort of accepted it. They were happy Dick won, but recognized it was not a "Death Match" as they – and I – had known.

The real nail in the coffin for the "Death Match" was on March 25, 1977, when "The Bruiser" beat Ivan Koloff. While I knew that "The Bruiser" was going over, I did not know the details. The ten count was vague and I had announced Dick as the winner of the fall. He stormed to me and said he’d won the match. I asked, "Well, is it over?"

Dick shrugged and I told him, "I don’t get it and the fans sure as hell don’t either." So "The Bruiser" threw Koloff around a bit more, left the ring, and even though a favorite had won, I heard some boos. This was not the "Death Match" and it never rebounded.

Even Sam dictated a few paragraphs to me for the "Wrestling" news to say that he would have no "death matches" until people understood what they were supposed to be. Someone was to be disabled, unable to continue, not just counted out. He, of course, blamed booker Pat O’Connor, though much of the problem came with the talent worried about "getting out of it" without being hurt.

That attitude killed the "Death Match." And the idea that losing a "Death Match" would hurt a wrestler’s drawing ability was so – and is so today – blatantly wrong. Done correctly, a clean finish HELPS both performers.

But when performers have power over finishes, that is often what happens. They are afraid of being hurt in the wallet short term, where a wise promoter like Sam could look long term and recognize that all involved would continue to draw money and the "Death Match" would be an exciting blow-off for once or twice a year.

Want proof? "The Bruiser" lost that "Death Match" in 1965. How many more sellouts did he draw and title matches did Dick get between 1965 and 1982? Mitch Hartsey and Herb Simmons don’t have enough fingers and toes together to count that high! The same was true for Von Erich, Kowalski, and many more top stars.

The "Death Match" evolved into falls count anywhere and anything goes. But when there are three referee bumps and interference by sixty percent of the dressing room, the finish is so obscured it means nothing. Yep, nobody’s alleged drawing power got hurt.

Of course, nobody’s drawing power got helped either. And the fans were ripped off because they weren’t given what they were promised – somebody loses, clear and clean, in the middle of the ring.

Ah, the poor Texas "Death Match." It was fun while it lasted.

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