Post by Lone Gunman on Sept 5, 2012 6:25:36 GMT -6
Hank Hennessy is a thirty-year veteran of the professional wrestling industry. Better known by his ring name, Big Meat, Hennessy has competed for every major promotion within the Globalverse (and many minor promotions outside of it, for that matter). He was earlier this month released from Canadian Stampede Wrestling following nearly three years’ worth of ‘disciplinary issues’. Recent special broadcast event Honorbound marked the first time in over a decade that Big Meat competed in a GZW2K1 ring. His dark match against The Happiest Man in Atlanta was a brief though uncomfortable-to-watch affair. I meet him back in Atlanta in the wake of Honorbound.
The physicality and brutality of Big Meat is second to none, and to his mind more than makes up for any perceived shortcomings in terms of in-ring ability. “One in two of these GZW2K1 kids claims to be at least the best technical wrestler in the world. More again claim to have mastered wrestling and a half-dozen other fighting styles; Jiu-jitsu, shadowboxing, karate and all that Asian crap. So Big Meat can’t do a moonsault or a shining wizard or whatever else. So what? It doesn’t matter a damn what you’re capable of, or claim to be capable of. I don’t care who you are, you simply can’t stand toe-to-toe with Big Meat in a square fight. I ain’t no ballet dancer. There’s no two ways about that. Wrestle circles around me if you can, and more power to you if you wanna try, but when it comes down to it, there’s nobody tougher than Big Meat out there. The ending will always be the same. It’ll end in tears because Big Meat will straight-up beat the shit out of all of them.”
For all his years, Big Meat’s experience of wrestling against women is very limited. “I’m old fashioned. I’m not going to go on the record here and tell you where I think women belong - the PC brigade and the suffragettes and the feminists and all them bitches will be on me ‘fore I know it. No, I’m gonna tell you where women don’t belong, and that’s in a wrestling ring with Big Meat.” I point out the high number of world class wrestlers in GZW2K1 today who also happen to be female. “It don’t matter one little bit. All the same to me. They wanna wrestle each other or some of these little softboys like Jimmy Corbin’s bastard then that’s very cute and none of Big Meat’s concern. Just don’t ask me to get involved. These things always end in tears. Not one of those little bitches could handle even a morsel of Big Meat and that’s all there is to it.”
I put to him the charge that he’s a male chauvinist, a sexist and a bigot. “I’m a lot of things,” he tells me with zero irony. “I am what I am. That hasn’t changed in nearly sixty years on this planet and don’t you think it’s gonna change because of you or anyone on that GZW2K1 roster.” That avenue of conversation comes to an abrupt end.
Seeing as he brings up the subject of his age, I ask Hennessy (56) what sort of condition he is in these days. “I’m no spring chicken if that’s what you’re asking. But I don’t need to be. Big Meat’s recipe is a simple one, always has been and always will be. Simple fact is I don’t need to be in tip-top shape, working treadmills and watching my diet and all that nonsense. I am what I am and don’t need no exercise regimen to do what I do. I’ve always done what I do and I always will. That doesn’t mean I can’t take a drink now and then or enjoy a barbeque.”
Big Meat is a notorious alcoholic. He’s half-cut during our interview, which was scheduled for 10am but didn’t start until nearly noon when he showed up. I don’t press that particular issue whatsoever. Instead I ask him about his assignment to the Trouble Trax. He doesn’t seem delighted about it. “Is what it is. These suits think I’m not fit to appear on their glossy little TV show just yet, so be it. All’s they’re doing is wasting their time, though. Big Meat is as Big Meat does, and that ain’t gonna miraculously change over the course of a few months’ seasoning in kindergarten. They think I’m gonna cut back on what I like, for them? No more booze, maybe. Better diet. Lose some weight. Tone up. Create a more presentable, desirable image for their little 12-year-old fanbase? Ain’t gonna happen. Leave me to rot for the rest of my life at the Trax, won’t make one little difference. There’s no prime cut or healthy slice of Big Meat, there’s just Big Meat. It’s all or nothing. I ain’t gonna change on their account. They want me over there for six months, fine. I’ll do my stint but the result’ll be the same.”
When he finally gets to GZW2K1 proper, what are Big Meat’s goals and aspirations? It’s not as if he has all the time in the world, certainly, so I suggest he may try to make the best use of it that he can. “You’re right. I don’t have much time. I’m an old man in what is becoming more and more of a young man’s game. Or young broad’s game, as the case may be. I wrestled with some of these kids’ fathers, uncles, grandfathers even. Some of these people call themselves “Old Guard” yet they’ve only been wrestling for five minutes in the grander scheme of things. Some of these guys haven’t seen their thirtieth birthdays and they’ve got these Ring of Honors. Or they’re Lords of the GZW2K1 Coliseum. They’re living history. Ask these GZW2K1 fans – any of those at Honorbound that have a word of English, that is – and they’ll tell you that Big Meat is, simply, history. Full stop. That’s if they even tell you anything. Thirty years I’ve been doing this and it seems that only a handful of those at the Tokyo Dome knew who I was when I was coming out there. Of course I made sure they’d know exactly who I was by the time the match was over, but that’s not the problem.”
And the problem? “The problem is that I have to go to such lengths to show this new world who Big Meat is and what he’s about. And it’s not that the pepper spray is the issue neither. Ten years ago if I’d been let onto GZW2K1 TV like I was supposed to, there’d be no such need. Pissy Nathaniel Davis and his inability to take a joke saw to that, but that’s in the past. In the meantime Davis and all these other little piss artists have forged legacies for themselves. Put in a few years in the States, retire young and get handed a cushy Ring of Honor and become the commissioner. Little Johnny Taylor, puts in a couple years at best and is now regarded as one of the best there’s ever been. Lord. Icon. Champion. All that shit. Jimmy Corbin? Greatest of All Time, the Monarch of Wrestling. So on. All these sons of bitches rode this GZW2K1 gravy train and forged themselves these grand little legacies. And now they don’t have to do a tap. And all the while Big old Meat is out in Hong Kong busting his balls night after night and for what? A lukewarm reception from the fans and a move from the bosses to keep me as far away from TV as possible. No good. No good at all. There’s your problem.”
I sense that the big man is about to tell me anyway, but I ask him just what it is he’s going to do about this little problem of his. “GZW2K1, whether it likes it or not, is Big Meat’s meal ticket. It’s here that I’m gonna forge my big legacy for years to come. I’m gonna go out with the biggest bang any of these bitches has ever heard, I don’t care if I have to take any and all of ‘em down in my wake. They say their shit is earned, not given. Cute, but they’ve missed the ever-present third option. If they think I haven’t earned the world on a plate by now, then for sure nothing I do at the Trouble Trax or from here on in is gonna convince ‘em otherwise. I’ve bent enough GZW guys’ noses out of shape, pissy Mr. Davis included, to ensure that they won’t be giving me jack shit. No, the only option I’ve got with GZW2K1 is to reach out and take what I want. Not earned, certainly not given, but taken. That’s what Big Meat is here for and that’s gonna be the Big Meat legacy.”
Like it or not, folks, Big Meat has well and truly arrived in our little neck of the Globalverse.
The physicality and brutality of Big Meat is second to none, and to his mind more than makes up for any perceived shortcomings in terms of in-ring ability. “One in two of these GZW2K1 kids claims to be at least the best technical wrestler in the world. More again claim to have mastered wrestling and a half-dozen other fighting styles; Jiu-jitsu, shadowboxing, karate and all that Asian crap. So Big Meat can’t do a moonsault or a shining wizard or whatever else. So what? It doesn’t matter a damn what you’re capable of, or claim to be capable of. I don’t care who you are, you simply can’t stand toe-to-toe with Big Meat in a square fight. I ain’t no ballet dancer. There’s no two ways about that. Wrestle circles around me if you can, and more power to you if you wanna try, but when it comes down to it, there’s nobody tougher than Big Meat out there. The ending will always be the same. It’ll end in tears because Big Meat will straight-up beat the shit out of all of them.”
For all his years, Big Meat’s experience of wrestling against women is very limited. “I’m old fashioned. I’m not going to go on the record here and tell you where I think women belong - the PC brigade and the suffragettes and the feminists and all them bitches will be on me ‘fore I know it. No, I’m gonna tell you where women don’t belong, and that’s in a wrestling ring with Big Meat.” I point out the high number of world class wrestlers in GZW2K1 today who also happen to be female. “It don’t matter one little bit. All the same to me. They wanna wrestle each other or some of these little softboys like Jimmy Corbin’s bastard then that’s very cute and none of Big Meat’s concern. Just don’t ask me to get involved. These things always end in tears. Not one of those little bitches could handle even a morsel of Big Meat and that’s all there is to it.”
I put to him the charge that he’s a male chauvinist, a sexist and a bigot. “I’m a lot of things,” he tells me with zero irony. “I am what I am. That hasn’t changed in nearly sixty years on this planet and don’t you think it’s gonna change because of you or anyone on that GZW2K1 roster.” That avenue of conversation comes to an abrupt end.
Seeing as he brings up the subject of his age, I ask Hennessy (56) what sort of condition he is in these days. “I’m no spring chicken if that’s what you’re asking. But I don’t need to be. Big Meat’s recipe is a simple one, always has been and always will be. Simple fact is I don’t need to be in tip-top shape, working treadmills and watching my diet and all that nonsense. I am what I am and don’t need no exercise regimen to do what I do. I’ve always done what I do and I always will. That doesn’t mean I can’t take a drink now and then or enjoy a barbeque.”
Big Meat is a notorious alcoholic. He’s half-cut during our interview, which was scheduled for 10am but didn’t start until nearly noon when he showed up. I don’t press that particular issue whatsoever. Instead I ask him about his assignment to the Trouble Trax. He doesn’t seem delighted about it. “Is what it is. These suits think I’m not fit to appear on their glossy little TV show just yet, so be it. All’s they’re doing is wasting their time, though. Big Meat is as Big Meat does, and that ain’t gonna miraculously change over the course of a few months’ seasoning in kindergarten. They think I’m gonna cut back on what I like, for them? No more booze, maybe. Better diet. Lose some weight. Tone up. Create a more presentable, desirable image for their little 12-year-old fanbase? Ain’t gonna happen. Leave me to rot for the rest of my life at the Trax, won’t make one little difference. There’s no prime cut or healthy slice of Big Meat, there’s just Big Meat. It’s all or nothing. I ain’t gonna change on their account. They want me over there for six months, fine. I’ll do my stint but the result’ll be the same.”
When he finally gets to GZW2K1 proper, what are Big Meat’s goals and aspirations? It’s not as if he has all the time in the world, certainly, so I suggest he may try to make the best use of it that he can. “You’re right. I don’t have much time. I’m an old man in what is becoming more and more of a young man’s game. Or young broad’s game, as the case may be. I wrestled with some of these kids’ fathers, uncles, grandfathers even. Some of these people call themselves “Old Guard” yet they’ve only been wrestling for five minutes in the grander scheme of things. Some of these guys haven’t seen their thirtieth birthdays and they’ve got these Ring of Honors. Or they’re Lords of the GZW2K1 Coliseum. They’re living history. Ask these GZW2K1 fans – any of those at Honorbound that have a word of English, that is – and they’ll tell you that Big Meat is, simply, history. Full stop. That’s if they even tell you anything. Thirty years I’ve been doing this and it seems that only a handful of those at the Tokyo Dome knew who I was when I was coming out there. Of course I made sure they’d know exactly who I was by the time the match was over, but that’s not the problem.”
And the problem? “The problem is that I have to go to such lengths to show this new world who Big Meat is and what he’s about. And it’s not that the pepper spray is the issue neither. Ten years ago if I’d been let onto GZW2K1 TV like I was supposed to, there’d be no such need. Pissy Nathaniel Davis and his inability to take a joke saw to that, but that’s in the past. In the meantime Davis and all these other little piss artists have forged legacies for themselves. Put in a few years in the States, retire young and get handed a cushy Ring of Honor and become the commissioner. Little Johnny Taylor, puts in a couple years at best and is now regarded as one of the best there’s ever been. Lord. Icon. Champion. All that shit. Jimmy Corbin? Greatest of All Time, the Monarch of Wrestling. So on. All these sons of bitches rode this GZW2K1 gravy train and forged themselves these grand little legacies. And now they don’t have to do a tap. And all the while Big old Meat is out in Hong Kong busting his balls night after night and for what? A lukewarm reception from the fans and a move from the bosses to keep me as far away from TV as possible. No good. No good at all. There’s your problem.”
I sense that the big man is about to tell me anyway, but I ask him just what it is he’s going to do about this little problem of his. “GZW2K1, whether it likes it or not, is Big Meat’s meal ticket. It’s here that I’m gonna forge my big legacy for years to come. I’m gonna go out with the biggest bang any of these bitches has ever heard, I don’t care if I have to take any and all of ‘em down in my wake. They say their shit is earned, not given. Cute, but they’ve missed the ever-present third option. If they think I haven’t earned the world on a plate by now, then for sure nothing I do at the Trouble Trax or from here on in is gonna convince ‘em otherwise. I’ve bent enough GZW guys’ noses out of shape, pissy Mr. Davis included, to ensure that they won’t be giving me jack shit. No, the only option I’ve got with GZW2K1 is to reach out and take what I want. Not earned, certainly not given, but taken. That’s what Big Meat is here for and that’s gonna be the Big Meat legacy.”
Like it or not, folks, Big Meat has well and truly arrived in our little neck of the Globalverse.
