…and three fat guys who sat on stage the entire night, but the novelty of an nWo-run show wore off quick. …dancers whom the commentators compared to Bond girls (though I don’t recall Pussy Galore having mall hair)… To that end, the arena had a distinctive set-up, with black and white decorations, a giant set of steps in the entranceway, a live band, cameras on sticks…
Sure, the company made the right call by not presenting it as just another WCW show. Put them in charge of the whole show, though, and all that anti-establishment appeal would fly right out the window. See, the nWo had gained a following for being rebels who played by their own rules and sought to take over the company. All in all, this pay-per-view would end up being about as satisfying as making out with an ugly chick. I would say that Eric should have known better than to put on this experimental inmates-run-the-asylum show, but given the symbolic garbage trucks that the nWo rode into the pay-per-view on, maybe Eric did have a feeling this event would be a piece of junk. No, that dubious distinction belonged to 1997’s very first wrestling pay-per-view, which was also supposedly operated entirely by the heel faction. That wasn’t the first time that a product stamped with the nWo logo had bombed, though. Bischoff’s ultimate plan was to run the nWo as its own entity, split from WCW, but a one-off “nWo Nitro” episode operated entirely by the heel faction at the end of 1997 flopped and the idea was scrapped. In fact, the faction had grown so dominant that they were regularly (and intentionally) making the rest of the company look weak. The difference was that starting in 1996, the spending spree was really paying off, with the New World Order angle being perhaps the hottest in wrestling history. Before he was getting paid big bucks to spend bottomless pits of someone else’s money in TNA, he was… well, doing exactly that in WCW. Let’s face it: it has almost always been good to be Eric Bischoff.
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