Been a while since I posted something here… I have something written ready, but I need to wait for it to be published elsewhere first. In the meantime, this is a little retro piece, back from the SmashWrestling.com days… to this day, it remains without a doubt, my favourite ever column, and the one I received the most feedback on. Enjoy!
*** Important Note ***
The following is a parody : (For Billy Gunn fans, that means it’s all made up)
None of this has happened. Yet.
Being bored out of my mind last night, I started flicking through the channels, and came across one of those television Evangelist stations… you know the kind – God can save you but at a price.
Nothing unusual there, you may think, as did I until the next preacher entered the stage. Dressed from head to toe in black, the only exception was 3 letters in blood red upon his T-shirt : “T F C”. I thought for a moment I recognised the face, but then I balked. I couldn’t possibly be seeing him.
I decided to listen to what he had to say. Luckily for me, and you readers, I had my video running, so was able to take this full transcript down afterwards. I’ll let the man speak for himself from here on in :
“Ladies and Gentlemen, brothers and sisters. You may recognise me, and you may not. Let’s get it out of the way… I am Tommy Dreamer. I was a sinner, but now I see the light. You see, the way things are these days… you have to do what you can to survive. You may have to bend the rules slightly, or even break them. Break them like a table!
“Yes, my children, I saw the light and formed my own church : Tommy’s F’n Church. You see the letters on my shirt? That’s what they stand for. In my church, we do things a little… different. We do things a little… HARDCORE.”
At this point, the assembled crowd started chanting in rhythm ‘He’s Hardcore! He’s Hardcore! He’s Hardcore!’…
“Yes, people, you too can join the Tommy’s F’n Church and fight the forces of darkness. Who do I mean? I mean The McMahons. Vincent McMahon is the devil himself, people! He’s buying your very souls every Monday night… look how easily he duped a true believer to commentate on his blasphemous programming. Paul Heyman was a believer. Paul Heyman was a pioneer… yet now, he is brainwashed by Satan himself!
“We can make a difference… we can change the way things are done in this land of ours… no more will be forced to watch people proclaim themselves ‘The One’. No more will be forced to believe that demons with multi-coloured hair are ‘Xtreme’. People, do you want to know what ‘Xtreme’ is really about? This, my people, is extreme”
Tommy walked to the side of the stage, where a barbed wire covered table stood next to a ladder. Tommy proceeded to set the table alight, and climb the ladder. He stood above the flaming table addressing the crowd
“People… in the name of the Hardcore god… in the name of Terry Funk! TOMMY’S F’N CHURCH! HARDCORRRRRE!”
Tommy leapt off the ladder, crashing through the table and landing in a crumpled mess, tangled in barbed wire, and surrounded by flame. As a couple of studio firemen rushed to put him out, the crowd started chanting again “TFC! TFC! TFC! TFC!”
Tommy slowly got to his feet, and limped back to the centre of the stage. He stood for a few seconds, the image of his smouldering hair and ripped T-shirt is not one that is easily forgotten. The crowd fell silent, and Tommy again began to talk.
“That is what I’m talking about, people. Would you see that in McMahon’s church? Would you see The Bald One or The Large Nosed One, McMahon’s chosen servants, do that for you? No! We can bring back the passion to the world. We can bring back the blood, sweat and more blood to the world. We can make the world HARDCORE!
“But I can’t do it alone… The McMahon church is large and wide. That’s why I’m making this plea to you, my Hardcore brothers and sisters, for your help. We need donations… we need TV time… if you can donate something, anything PLEASE DO! All credit cards are accepted! If you are a large TV network with 2 hours a week to spare, we need YOU!
“People, the road is long, but we can get there. We can do it. We can be worthy of the Hardcore god, The Immortal and Mighty Terry Funk. Join me now in reciting The Funkster’s Prayer.”
The audience bowed their heads, and joined Tommy in a moment of prayer.
“Terry Funk, which art in barbed wire… hardcore be thy name. Thy promotion come, Thy will be done in Flaming Tables as it is in Barbed Wire Rings. Give us this day a Singapore Cane. Forgive us our piledrivers as we destroy those who powerbombed against us. Lead us not into house shows, and deliver us from TNN. Amen. Thank you brothers and sister, and goodnight! You’ve been a great audience! May Terry Funk be with you…”
And that was it. A phone number flashed up on screen, and the next preacher came on, and I turned the channel. Tommy Dreamer’s Church of Hardcore… who would have thought it?