NWA World Championship Wrestling, Atlanta, GA
This is one mega “dads rock” matchup by 1990. First of all, it’s the Hayes/Garvin Freebirds, which ain’t the Freebirds, I don’t care what they say. I’ll accept Buddy Jack being out, but I can’t take it seriously without Hayes and Gordy both around, and while Garvin was a great “Freebird associate” in his better days, he was an awful Freebird, and Hayes had mostly lost the plot by this point, too.
Ricky and Robert starting to look a little dated ’90, too. Not quite as dated as it would get, and we’ve turned the corner to it now being “vintage,” but Ricky looks dorky lip-synching to Poison’s version of “Your Mama Don’t Dance.”
After a dropkick Ross calls Morton “this youngster from the Volunteer State of Tennessee.” Ricky’s 33 and has been around for years but if you call someone a youngster, they are. Gorilla Monsoon tried it with Carlos Colon years later.
Part of the point of this match is Hayes being annoyed by the “copycat” Rock n’ Roll Express, as it was really the Freebirds who “brought rock n’ roll to wrestling,” which it really was. And the Rock n’ Roll Express have now had years of success with it, too.
Neither of these teams are in their primes exactly, but the RnRs are still really fucking good and Hayes and Garvin are good enough veterans in the style that the RnRs work that they know how to do this match and keep it moving.
Gibson gets isolated, so it’s Gibson playing Morton, with Morton on the apron cheering on a “Freebirds suck” chant. Hayes grabs a sleephold and Jim Ross remembers Paul Boesch putting him in one once to “demonstrate.” Cornette’s good here, as he flirts with being a little annoying by constantly pointing out how much he hates the Rock n’ Roll Express, great rivals of his in the 80s, but pulls it back juuuust at the right time to admit how good they are: “I know from experience, the Freebirds have to keep the pressure on the Rock n’ Roll Express. If they don’t, they’ll be in trouble.”
“Shades of Skandor Akbar here!” Ross exclaims when Garvin gets a camel clutch on Gibson. Morton finally gets the hot tag and it is plenty hot. Garvin accidentally punches Hayes, Morton rolls up Garvin for the win. The Freebirds are pissed, though, and double team Ricky Morton, grinding his face into the canvas to give him the ol’ fucked up face like the Horsemen gave him in ’86. “I think we’re seeing the beginning of a tremendous rivalry between these two teams!” (We weren’t, really.)
This is rock solid all around, two teams that know how to do what they want to do, keep crowd energized, nothing fancy or special.
Tape Machines Are Rolling 
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