The Importance of… 4.13.08: Finishing Moves

Wrestling’s most famous, memorable names are often defined by their finishing maneuvers. Finishing moves can help get wrestlers over. They can create moments. They can establish characters, and create the basis for successful careers.

A good finisher makes it much easier for a wrestler to get over. You can see the difference that a trademark move made for many competitors. Let’s take Bob Backlund in his 1990s run. When he re-debuted, Backlund’s ultra-vanilla roll-up with a bridge finisher very much matched the old-fashioned, golly-gee-wow face character he played. The problem was that neither the move nor the man were remotely over. Months later, gone is the face persona, in his the crazy heel. Gone is the roll-up, and in is a sick crossface chickenwing, which emerges as one of the most memorable submission maneuvers of the time. There are plenty of other examples to boot. Could Shawn Michaels had been a legend had he stuck with a back suplex as his finisher, over Sweet Chin Music? Kurt Angle wasn’t half as memorable a personality in the wrestling world until he added the ankle lock to his repertoire, a shoot-style move to complement the not-particularly-remarkable Angle Slam.

That’s not to say that a finisher, in and of itself, needs to be realistic, or particularly impressive to look at. Take three of wrestling’s biggest stars—Steve Austin, The Rock and Hulk Hogan. One of the amazing things about these three men is that their highest profile signature moves could be executed by Maria Kanellis, Colin Delaney or Jim Ross—in short, they’re not difficult moves. And yet, what moves could be more iconic? The sudden, jerking nature of The Stunner was a perfect match for Austin’s character. And yet, the incredibly basic move got over more because of his opponent’s selling, and his trash talking than for the actual execution. Comparably, Rock and Hogan got an elbow drop and leg drop over, respectively—downright weak transitional moves coming from anybody else. Nonetheless the charisma of the men, the build as they bounced off the ropes, and the tendency for those moves to mark the end of a match made each finisher far more over than John Morrison’s split leg corkscrew moonsault ever has been, and likely ever will be.

Similar to singles wrestlers, most of wrestling’s most memorable tag teams had memorable tandem finishers. The Steiners had their top rope DDT and bulldog finishers. The Hart Foundation had the Hart Attack. AMW had the Death Sentence. The Hardyz had the Twist of Fate into the Swanton. Hell, Power and Glory had the Powerplex. Compare this with today’s teams, and you start to see a part of why none of them are really over. Sure, Cade & Murdoch have their high-low thing that they break out on the odd occasion they win a match. But what else is there?

Moving away from wrestling’s greats, there are so many performers who have failed, in part due to their lack of a credible finisher. Take Brutus Beefcake. For the better part of two decades, we the fans were to accept him as a legit star. And yet how can you really buy a guy as a threat when his dramatic finishing hold—a sleeper—is nothing more than a traditional rest hold, and he doesn’t do anything to make it more special. Similarly, although Jim Duggan was fairly over, the fact that his finisher was a clothesline could not have helped his cause. Let’s face it, many, if not most matches include clotheslines, and you’re telling me this guy’s version was performed so expertly that it could knock a guy out, when the same move couldn’t score a one count in most any other contest? At least JBL adds some flash to his. Similar problems arise for the bevy of big men, stuck with big boots and pump handle slams to win their matches. Let’s be honest. We’ve all seen the moves before. Kevin Nash delivered the big boot better than you, and it was never more than a transitional part of his move set, so let’s try something new.

Part of why a good finisher can help build up a star is that it can help create moments. Finishers build drama. The crowd is waiting for these moves. They’re waiting to see if a guy can pull off his move. If he can, they’re waiting to see if it will get the job done. The aforementioned Mr. Backlund achieved the most iconic moment in his second run with the WWF when he locked the crossface chickenwing onto Bret Hart at Survivor Series 1994 and held it for several minutes, all the while, screaming at the man, establishing himself once and for all as one crazy son of a bitch. Another great moment came quite recently, at Ric Flair’s last Raw as a competitor. The Nature Boy slapped the figure four on Randy Orton, and made the champion of the world tap. While there are certainly more notable instances of Flair using the figure four, this one was special, because it embodied the man’s entire career, using smarts, technical wrestling and, of course, his trademark hold, to overcome a younger, stronger opponent.

Using a finisher to achieve victory can make for a great moment, but comparably important are those times when a competitor can overcome someone else’s big move. I’m talking about Steve Austin refusing to give it up to the sharpshooter at Wrestlemania XIII. Davey Boy Smith powering his way out of The Warlord’s full nelson. Hell, Hulk Hogan made career out of not putting over other guys’ finishers—kicking out from Savage’s elbow, resisting Slaughter’s camel clutch, not letting Earthquake’s butt drop keep him down. These moments created the perception that Hogan was unbeatable. These moments demonstrated desire, an unwillingness to accept defeat—the stuff legends are made of.