When Wrestling Goes Wrong: The Skyscrapers vs. Blackwell and the Art of Selling
There’s a moment in every wrestling match where the line between performance and reality blurs. For Mike Blackwell, that moment came when he refused to sell. Not just a move, not just a finisher, but the entire concept of storytelling in the ring. What happened next wasn’t just a backstage beating—it was a lesson in the unwritten rules of professional wrestling.
The Setup: Giants vs. the Jobber
The Skyscrapers—Dan Spivey and Sid Vicious—were the epitome of 1989 wrestling’s larger-than-life personas. Managed by Teddy Long, they were a force of nature, two giants who dominated the ring with sheer size and intimidation. In a match against Avalanch (yes, misspelled on TV) and Blackwell, they were expected to do what they did best: destroy their opponents.
But Blackwell had other plans.
The Match: A Masterclass in What Not to Do
What makes this particularly fascinating is how Blackwell’s refusal to sell wasn’t just a mistake—it was a rebellion against the very essence of wrestling. Selling isn’t just about taking a bump; it’s about telling a story. It’s about making your opponent look good, about respecting the narrative. Blackwell, for whatever reason, decided to ignore that.
Personally, I think Blackwell’s actions were less about proving himself and more about misunderstanding the role of a jobber. A jobber isn’t there to win; they’re there to elevate the stars. Blackwell’s refusal to play his part wasn’t just unprofessional—it was counterproductive.
The Breakdown: When the Script Falls Apart
One thing that immediately stands out is how Spivey and Vicious handled the situation. They didn’t lose their cool in the ring, even as Blackwell kept popping up like a jack-in-the-box. Stevie Richards, reviewing the match years later, noted how professionally they handled it. But professionalism only goes so far when someone refuses to play by the rules.
What many people don’t realize is that wrestling is a collaborative art. It’s not about who’s tougher; it’s about who can tell the best story. Blackwell’s refusal to sell didn’t make him look tough—it made him look like he didn’t understand the game.
The Aftermath: Paying the Price
If you take a step back and think about it, Blackwell’s backstage beating wasn’t just retribution—it was a lesson. Spivey and Vicious didn’t just punish him; they reinforced the unspoken code of the ring. Teddy Long’s words—“They just waited on him to come through the curtain, and they just got right on his ass again”—speak volumes about the consequences of breaking that code.
This raises a deeper question: What does it mean to be a professional in wrestling? Is it about ego, or is it about the craft? Blackwell’s story suggests that ego, in this world, will always lose to the craft.
The Legacy: A Teaching Moment
Stevie Richards called this match “Wrestling School 101,” and he’s absolutely right. It’s a cautionary tale, a reminder of what happens when you forget the fundamentals. But it’s also a testament to the resilience of wrestling as a form of entertainment. Despite Blackwell’s blunder, the Skyscrapers’ careers continued to soar—Spivey in Japan, Vicious to the Hall of Fame.
A detail that I find especially interesting is how this match, despite its chaos, didn’t derail their momentum. What this really suggests is that wrestling is bigger than any one moment, any one mistake. It’s about the story, the spectacle, and the unspoken rules that keep it all together.
Final Thoughts: The Art of Selling
In my opinion, Blackwell’s story is a reminder that wrestling isn’t just about physicality—it’s about respect. Respect for your opponent, respect for the audience, and respect for the craft. Selling isn’t just a skill; it’s a philosophy. It’s what separates a good wrestler from a great one.
What this incident teaches us is that in wrestling, as in life, there are consequences for ignoring the rules. Blackwell paid the price, but his mistake gave us a timeless lesson. And that, in the end, is what makes this story so compelling.
