Now, XFL Should Start Grappling for a Quick Fix

To answer your first question about Vince McMahon’s professional wrestling football league, no, the outcomes of these games aren’t scripted in advance--not yet anyway, although today is back-to-the-blackboard day inside the executive offices of the XFL, so you never know.

For openers, two teams of NFL rejects and never-beens calling themselves the Las Vegas Outlaws and the New York/New Jersey Hitmen brought McMahon’s twisted vision to the masses Saturday night, at least until they switched over to “This Old House,” and now we know what the X in XFL stands for.

Xceptionally Xaggerated Xpectations.

Xtravagantly Xcruciating Xecution.

Xcessively Xcitable Xperts Xuding Xasperation.

“Come on!” bellowed the governor of Minnesota, decked out in black polo shirt, black baseball cap and black mood, disgusted at the sight of Hitmen quarterback Charlie Puleri receiving treatment on the sideline.

“He didn’t get hit that hard!

“He didn’t even take one to the head!”

Giving the nation a rare glimpse inside the political process pile-driving the Gopher State into the 21st century, Jesse “The Governor” Ventura, color analyst for NBC’s inaugural XFL telecast, fussed, fumed and stewed when events didn’t go his way, seeming greatly annoyed he couldn’t just rip open a turnbuckle and start pounding the heads of underachieving Hitmen against the naked metal.

The game had become a rout before Ventura could finish explaining all the league’s new rules, Las Vegas had a 19-0 lead in the second quarter, the XFL’s promised brand of “extreme football” was a no-show and New York/New Jersey was behaving very much like New York’s blue jerseys in the Super Bowl.

Unfortunately for all concerned, testosterone was raging more intensely in the broadcast booth than on the field.

“You know what’s going to be fun?” Ventura spluttered, desperately trying to head off all the 12-to-24-year-olds about ready to fire up PlayStation 2.

“Halftime!

“Rest assured, [New York/New Jersey Coach] Rusty Tillman’s gonna go ballistic in there! And we’ll be there to see it! Because in the XFL, we go into the locker rooms!”

Quick camera pan of Tillman pacing the sideline.

“Look at Rusty, he’s fuming!” Venture enthused. “You can see it.”

Added play-by-play man Matt Vasgersian, quite hopefully: “He’s already thinking about airing them out!”

Uh, well, no.

By the time NBC had moved its cameras into the Hitmen locker room for the Burger King All-Access Halftime show-- “Access that has never been allowed before!” Vasgersian gushed--Tillman could be seen standing in front of his players, voice steady, face unflushed, going unmistakably non-ballistic.

“They’re not beating us, we’re beating ourselves,” Tillman calmly informed his players.

“Only 19 points. Three touchdowns, three touchdowns,” Tillman quietly added, helpfully working out the math for them.

“We can win this football game. We’re not out of it.”

Burger King was getting distressingly little sizzle for its buck. NBC cut quickly to the Las Vegas locker room, hoping for . . . what, jubilant full-gainers into the team whirlpool?

Sorry. NBC’s cameras captured the Outlaws in all their up-by-19-points delirium. There was one bent over in silent thought, baseball cap tugged down to his eyebrows. There was another, anxiously licking his lips. And another, bobbing his head to the music pumping in his personal headphones.

“The locker rooms were more mellow than we thought,” Vasgersian observed.

“I’m surprised,” Ventura added, severely disappointed. “Rusty was doing more coaching than yelling. I thought we’d see an explosion.”

Maybe then it finally dawned on McMahon, impresario of the wildly successful World Wrestling Federation:

This ain’t rasslin’.

McMahon could be excused for not knowing any better, but NBC has a track record with football. What were they honestly expecting, miking coaches and players and referees and dragging hand-held cameras into the locker room? Generally speaking, football coaches rank somewhat lower on the charisma scale than The Rock. They talk in cliches and jargon and use the blackboard to diagram double-tight end formations, not crack it over a fumbling tailback’s head. By and large, football coaches are rather dull people who spend too much of their lives in dark rooms hitting the rewind button on their video machines. They go by handles of Rusty and Jim and George, not Stone Cold or The Undertaker. Not even Knute, not anymore.

After spending the last six months trashing the NFL as part of its grand-opening hype, the XFL, in its grand-opening broadcast, found itself in the very uncomfortable position of turning to the NFL to liven up the proceedings. The game was a dog, the halftime show was worse . . . bring on the obnoxious Raven!

So there was sideline reporter Mike Adamle, with 11:50 left in the third quarter, holding a microphone up to Tony Siragusa’s flapping jaw, which informed a national television audience that “The Hitmen better get their head out . . . and get something going.”

Thank you, Tony, for stopping by!

With the score still 19-0 in the fourth quarter and the Hitmen changing quarterbacks to no avail, McMahon opted for a time-honored strategy of tag-team wrestling: Slap your partner’s hand, bring in a fresher body. NBC did just that, switching over to the Orlando-Chicago game, which more closely resembled a contest.

With that, the Outlaws and the Hitmen accomplished what very few wrestlers--or politicians--have ever managed. They found a way to shut up Ventura, silencing him with the sleeper hold.