Tuesdays with Daddy: Week 10: vs. Giant Haystacks

Week 10

Big Daddy vs. Giant Haystacks 6/18/81

MD: Here’s a big one. We’re in Wembley Arena for the Final Showdown Match. I like how Daddy has these “Knockdown” matches which are ten count KOs. They’re sort of his signature gimmick. I had to laugh out loud to start because after Haystacks comes out, they cut all the way to the back and Big Daddy’s dressing room, and he comes out like Goldberg! I know I made the comparison weeks ago, and here he’s got the whole entrance, except for instead of pyro and sparks, they have a little girl mascot, the Rev. Michael Brooks (a Methodist preacher who was a pro wrestler and was his second here), and a majorette spinning her baton.

The music plays, and I’ve not really talked about it as of yet. It’s We Shall not be Moved and doesn’t that sum him up so well? It’s all part of the act and it all came together. There were fans with little banners saying it. Everyone was singing it, and guess what? Daddy was singing it too. I honestly think that’s so important. He has fans slapping him on the back as he comes down or putting their arms around him in solidarity, and he’s singing right along with them. He’s letting them know it’s ok to let go and sing along. He’s doing it. They can do it too. They don’t have to be self-conscious. They don’t have to hold back. They can sing. They can cheer. They can feel secure and enjoy themselves.

They can chant. He sings and he’s the one, almost always, that starts the reassuring, triumphant, safe chants of “Easy! Easy!” He does it right in Haystacks’ face as they start, pointing his finger at him and looking to the crowd to do it. There’s nothing to worry about. Big Daddy’s there to fight the good fight. He’s there to win for them and for England, maybe during years where they don’t feel like they have much to celebrate. He’s there to give them something. This matters. He’s working the crowd, but he’s also there for them in all the ways that matter. He’s giving them something real in exchange for their time, their money, their belief, their adulation. Wrestling is all so often the art of making something out of nothing, but the something he’s making is so valuable, and so much of it, as I’ve noted before, is because he lets himself be just a little vulnerable but never too vulnerable. But he lets himself be emotionally vulnerable too. He’s wearing the silly hat, bedazzled, a big larger than life blowhard in some ways. He’s putting it all out there and that encourages the fans to do the same. It matters. Wrestlers today could learn so much from really watching him and how he carries himself and how he relates to the fans and what he gives them. So much. I have in just these ten matches. 

This was a clash of the titans, the clash to end all clashes. Daddy moved with his usual energy, raring to go, driving right in. They locked up to no effect. Haystacks tried a head vice but Daddy walked him to the corner. The first body check was inconclusive. Then, without warning, Daddy burst across the ring with a great looking running shot to the top of Haystacks head that sent him reeling into the ropes. On the subsequent check, disaster struck. Daddy crashed Haystacks into the corner but the referee was an unfortunate casualty of the impact. 

Daddy landed a few more shots, but, because of who he was and what he represented, he disengaged to check on the ref. That let Haystacks start in on him, and now there was a real, if momentary, sense of danger. Remember, the crowd is used to these matches ending very quickly. It wouldn’t take much. If Haystacks hit a splash that would be it, and he was stomping away at Daddy. A second ref came in and delayed him momentarily, so when he did go for that splash, Daddy was able to move. 

You could almost hear the sigh of relief come over the crowd. It was almost (almost) impressive how quickly Daddy got up. He was basically hulking up, the first time I’ve seen him do so, but instead of pointing at Haystacks, he raised his hands up, exasperated at the villain’s pluck and temerity. How dare he take such liberties? The fans were ready for what was to come. Daddy charged right in. I will say this. Maybe it’s an optical illusion but these Wembley Arena matches look to have a slightly bigger ring than usual and that takes away from the big boom whips and Daddy being able to cross the ring as quickly. 

Here, that didn’t matter much though, because now Daddy was moving Haystacks with the body checks, and he made one last mighty charge while Haystacks was in the ropes, and he bumped into a pile of bouquets outside the ring. The count came quickly and he was unable to beat it, though he was quick to complain that the mat was slippery, perhaps foreshadowing that the Final Showdown was not that final after all. 

And Daddy? He grabbed the mic and shouted “We Will Not Be Moved” before welcoming the fans, his family, his friends, his brethren, his countrymen, into his world once more to be equal and valued citizens, by starting the “Easy! Easy!” chant. And of course, all of Wembley Arena, truly his people, chanted right along.

ER: This is hands down one of the greatest under 3 minute matches in wrestling history, and I think the fact that it's a culturally important match puts it in the conversation for Greatest 3 minute match. I love the  concept of a gigantic - literal and figurative - main event as a molten hot burn out, instead of our mythic warriors getting tempted into the lengthy Epic that many associate with a big drawing main event. There's always a temptation to go long, so the match rises to the occasion. An actual dream match - the literal biggest match and not just two workers who have never fought before - needs to feel like the culmination of something. Maybe the thinking is that people will feel ripped off without getting More from a legendary showdown. There were fears about the same thing in boxing and MMA, the idea that people would be upset if Tyson murdered someone one combo into a PPV main event. 

Matt rightly compares Big Daddy to Goldberg, but of course Goldberg wisely used short dynamic violent squashes to build his character, never as his main event style. It wouldn't have flown. People expect more. Thinking back on the night my buddy James and I watched Goldberg beat Hogan, his mom's phone ringing off the hook as our friend Mike excitedly called asking us if we were watching, I remember it as sudden, conclusive. It felt like Goldberg came in, hit the Spear, Georgia Dome losing their heads as Goldberg stuck out his tongue for the cameras. But that match was 3x as long as the most legendary singles match in British wrestling history, not the Ultimate Warrior/Honky Tonk Man foregone conclusive blink it felt like.  

That's why this match stands alone in so many ways. This was the match everyone in Britain wanted to see, the match millions watched on a Saturday afternoon at their nans or aunties'. This was Godzilla vs. Rodan, a battle of the two biggest icons. This is Hogan vs. Andre at The Main Event, for a different people, We Shall Overcome, Daddy inventing The Goldberg Entrance 17 years early. There is no better impacts in any Daddy match. Every collision with Haystacks means something, every one feels bigger and escalating, and we finally get an actual feeling of Daddy being in danger. Daddy typically takes as long to knock any man over as many tries as it takes an owl to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop. Nobody has stayed standing after three collisions, no man has the size and presence of Haystacks. Daddy's belly isn't the weapon here that it is in literally every other match. It gives us a flesh rubbing, belly to belly grinding lock up, both gripping the other at the sides like they're working with invisible mawashi. 

Daddy has to use every weapon at his disposal, throwing arms and smashing Haystacks. A clubbing elbow sends Haystacks flying full weight into the ropes like Andre, crazy lean, full trust. Haystacks employing a big man visual like that would have made him a legendary monster in any territory. Giant Baba knocking him into the ropes like that with a boot, an Inoki enziguiri sending him leaning, it would have been shown on career highlight reels for decades. When Daddy got knocked into the ropes, I let out an involuntary whoaaOOOAAAAA like I was watching a car start to slide down a cliff. They use this spectacular moment to set up another, training us to expect the same the next time Haystacks is knocked into the ropes, none of us expecting his arm to swing out and catch the referee. When Daddy is down checking on the ref - something he does on instinct, forgetting the match to help his fellow man - Haystacks rains a club down onto Daddy's shoulders that actually sends Britain's hero sprawling. They expertly created a situation where Daddy was vulnerable but not due to personal weakness; he was vulnerable because his attention had been taken up by helping the downtrodden. It's the first time we've seen Daddy on the mat because someone sent him there, only possible because he cared. 

The finish couldn't be better. Haystacks keeps getting slammed into until he flies over the ropes to the floor faster than you've ever seen someone his size (of which there are not many) hit a floor. It has to be seen to be believed. It looks amazing. It looks impossible. It looks like something that would believably keep a man down for a (fast) 10 count. It feels like triumph. A monster truly needs to be toppled, and this was the literal only time a match gave us reason to doubt Daddy would topple this Biggest Monster. Nobody had any questions after, it was all orange squash and chippy supper. Easy. Easy. 

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