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Hulk Holland's midweek meltdown: Finish him!

Hey, remember that great match between Randy Orton and Antonio Cesaro on Main Event? No, but I remember The Shield running in for no apparent reason.

I love a good finish.

Always have. There's something satisfying about watching your favorite pro wrestler drop the curtain on his/her opponent to seal the deal. Kick to the stomach, followed by a stunner? RKO off the top rope? Boot to the face with a leg drop to, uh, boot?

It sure beats the Eve/Kaitlyn walk-off.

A WWE match is not complete without a good finish, which is why we all jump up and gasp when we see a good near finish. Remember the sweet chin music-to-pedigree combo on the Undertaker at last year's WrestleMania? I sat in my La-Z-Boy like that dude from those old Memorex ads.

Yet the finish is so easy to screw up.

I remember back in spring of 1993 when I was a waiter at one of those goofy chain restaurants. You know, the ones where you have to clap your hands and sing like a jackass when some dopey kid claims it's his birthday? Anyway, one day I was milling around the hostess stand, trying to impress the ladies with my Cody Rhodes mustache (not kidding -- and all pics have been burned) when out of nowhere, my suave stylings were interrupted with:


Muthafuckasaywhat? I hauled ass around the corner by the side entrance, loaded for bear, and it happened again.


I'd never heard a video game talk before. I'd heard them bleep, blip and bloop, but never talk. Yet right there in front of me was the recently-delivered Mortal Kombat, the greatest thing I had ever seen in my life (I didn't get out much). Over the course of the next several months, I likely plunked a few hundred bucks into that accursed machine, mastering the one thing that any young, red-blooded American male coveted.

The violent finish!

After all, you could have an epic, back-and-forth battle with your best friend, but when the moment of truth came, as the lights dimmed and Shang Tsung ordered you to FINISH HIM, the entire match was a waste if your victim just wobbled back and forth before collapsing -- all because you were too much of a spaz to manipulate the joystick and punch in the correct combo.

The rest of the day, nobody talked about what a kick-ass fight it was, they just talked about how you botched the finish.

That's kind of how I feel about WWE right now. To their credit, we've been getting some great matches in recent weeks. If you aren't watching Main Event (now with more Brad Maddox!), then you need to turn in your fan club card because that's the best wrestling show on television.

Just last night we got Randy Orton vs. Antonio Cesaro.

It was a terrific pairing, as both performers are big, strong and athletic -- and they told a great story, too. Unfortunately, it had an "twist" ending that would make even M. Night Shyamalan cringe. The Shield? Again? I really hope "creative" has a master plan for these guys because all that goodwill they built up at last month's TLC pay-per-view (PPV) is being torn down with the constant run-ins that have no rhyme or reason.

They're screwing with the faces, WE GET IT. Now, what's the point?

I don't mind the head games, but don't give me a 20-minute match between two solid performers only to have it ruined with a run-in. I wanted the finish and after investing that kind of time last night, I earned one. Instead, I got The Miz! Imagine Kano going for the FATALITY in Mortal Kombat, but Dan from Street Fighter shows up in his pink gi to make the save.


Sometimes, even when we get a good finish, it still gets ruined. Remember that PPV quality match between Dolph Ziggler and John Cena on Monday Night RAW? That was an exceptional bout for free television as the "Dr. of Thuganomics" went to hell and back, yet somehow managed to pull out the big win.

Then negates the entire thing with his arrogance.

He just can't help himself, I suppose. Cena walks up the ramp, fresh as a daisy, salutes the camera and announces: "All in a day's work!" Really? I mean, he only took 17 different finishers, but I guess when you're Superman, or Louis Burke in the last 15 minutes of Death Warrant, it's no big deal.

Except it is to me (call the wahmbulance).

In closing, I'd just like t-


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