The Wrasslin' Essay: Triple H Vs. Roman Reigns Shows Shades Of Halloween Havoc '92

With the meaningful parts of the WrestleMania 32 card set, the question looms for the second year in a row: is Roman Reigns over enough to challenge for the WWE World Heavyweight Championship on the biggest stage of all? His opponent, Triple H, is unquestionably capable of leading him to a credible main event in the ring, but will the crowd accept it? Many fans out there are currently saying, “It’s Triple H at WrestleMania! What’s the worst that could happen?”

Well, the worst that could happen is the NWA World Heavyweight Title match at Halloween Havoc ’92 between Rick Rude and Masahiro Chono. While it may seem like a match from the Bill Watts era of WCW has little to do with the WWE in 2016, a close examination of the match and the state of the promotion at the time reveals eerie similarities.

The Halloween Havoc match occurs at a key crossroads in the relationship between professional wrestling and its most passionate fans. The show takes place in Philadelphia, the city whose fans had latched onto the smart mark revolution begun by the John Hitchcock-Bruce Mitchell contingent in Greensboro and continued the work of creating an environment that was more meritorious and less easily led. The front row of the Civic Center audience prominently features Vladimir “the Superfan,” a staple on the broadcasts of the biggest shows from the mid-80s to the mid-90s, and John “Hat Guy” Bailey, who would become one of the ringleaders of the mob that was the ECW Arena crowd.

Therefore, the crowd that night in Philadelphia was markedly similar to that at a WWE television taping or Network Special in 2016. Like today’s fans, too, they were frustrated. The man they felt was indisputably the best wrestler, Ric Flair, had been disrespected and belittled by a corporate-minded boss who valued Hollywood glitz over athletic substance. Sound familiar?

Unlike Cesaro, Dolph Ziggler, or Daniel Bryan before them, Flair had lucrative alternatives to putting up with that garbage and had taken his talents to New York. The vocal minority that would drive that crowd at Halloween Havoc was keenly aware of the whole story through newsletters and was determined to show their frustration. To them, the NWA World Heavyweight Championship was Flair’s title, and that crowd would simply not allow it to be contested without mention of his name. Additionally, many of the stars being pushed in place of Flair (Ron Simmons, Dustin Rhodes, Nikita Koloff, Sting) simply were not what the crowd—who had become accustomed to The Nature Boy’s energetic promos and incredible wresting—wanted to see. All the while, hard-working fan favorites languished on the undercard. Imagine that!

Also working against the match was WCW’s booking, which had guaranteed that even the most casual fans and true-believers would cheer the heel. Sure, Rick Rude had begged out of defending his United States Championship earlier on the show, but more importantly, he was a colossal star. Through years of exposure in World Class Championship Wrestling and on Vince McMahon’s far-reaching and impressively packaged television, Rude had a place in the minds and hearts of fans. He was a pantheon, Mount Rushmore-level heel, but the fans loved the act.

In spite of being a heel, Rude was also put in the position of representing the home team, WCW, in the match. If he did not win the title, Flair’s belt would stay overseas in New Japan, where only the most hardcore fans could see it defended if they could find some way to get a tape months later. Even more important than Chono’s foreignness (among the biggest excuses for the crowd not to be behind someone in wrestling history) was the fact that he simply was not over. In spite of holding Ric Flair’s title, Masahiro Chono had no credibility with the crowd. They knew he was a main event star from Japan, and therefore had to be a good wrestler, so they were somewhat intellectually invested in him, but because he lacked quality exposure on American television, they had zero emotional investment in him.

The final result: a cool, well-established, good-worker heel carrying the company flag taking on a wrestler that many in the crowd were completely disinterest in and had no desire to see succeed. All of this came against the backdrop of perception that WCW wasn’t what it used to be and faced an uncertain future at the top of the card. Again, does this sound familiar?

What occurred that October night in Philly is without question the worst-case scenario for what can happen in a world title match (excluding, perhaps, Sting and Jeff Hardy at Victory Road). The fans spent the first half of the match wooing and chanting “We want Flair!” with increasing vitriol, but by the second half of the match, they were just silent, sitting there in utter ennui watching one of the best stars of the previous decade wrestle a very good fundamental match against an opponent they just weren’t excited about. Could you describe Triple H’s assignment headed into WrestleMania 32 any better than “wrestle a very good fundamental match against an opponent the fans just aren’t excited about?”

Granted, Roman Reigns has a far higher profile with the WWE Universe today than Masahiro Chono had with WCW fans in 1992. With that said, he is just as unpopular with those who pay for the best tickets in order to lead the crowd. Will we hear chants of “We want Cena!” as Roman and Hunter circle each other? Can they survive matholds without the audience breaking into roars of dissatisfaction? Will they find a way to make anyone want to see the heel lose? With so many questions hovering over WrestleMania 32’s title match, isn’t it a little scary that it can even be compared to something from one of the most disastrous shows of the pay-per-view era?