Magazine Archives: Wrestling’s Greatest Angles: Flair vs. Funk

By Joe Hulbert from issue 2 of FightfulMag.com. Still available!

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On May 7, 1989, one of wrestling’s greatest trilogies concluded. Settling the score after two epic meetings, Ric Flairand Ricky Steamboathad one more masterpiece to paint, clashing for a third time at WCW’s WrestleWar event. Flair was without success thus far, falling short in a pair of contrasting classics. At Chi-Town Rumble, he’d lost his precious ‘big gold’ in a frenetic thriller, failing to regain the crown in their Clash of Champions marathon, controversially being counted to the mat after 55 minutes of unforgettable action.

Though twenty-plus years were still ahead of Flair, his longevity was already admirable. More than a decade removed from his first encounters with Steamboat, Flair was now 40, on the road to facing an inevitable decline. In 1988, Flair’s world had transformed, as his promotion changed ownership while closer to home, The Four Horsemen were torn apart. Though still king, Flair entered 1989 in an unfamiliar throne, leading a ‘World Championship Wrestling’ brand that had a roller coaster ride ahead. Flair’s stature remained, but his standing was suddenly in doubt.

On paper, at least, 1989 didn’t look like Flair’s year. Quite the opposite, in fact, as the Crockett glory days took their place in history, quietly closing one of Flair’s most iconic chapters. Clearly, any doubts were soon silenced, as against Steamboat, Flair began to produce perhaps his finest year yet. WrestleWar was no different, finishing the pair’s trilogy in style, somehow managing a near-perfect marriage of their two prior bouts. It had Chicago’s unparalleled energy, but the palpable drama that was so rich in New Orleans.

When the dust settled, Flair was back where he belonged, wrestling’s ultimate champion. The result wasn’t Flair’s only redemption either, as this time, he’d done it the right way. “The Nature Boy” was wrestling’s coolest villain, the arrogant antagonist, more slick than sincere. That character wouldn’t go anywhere either, still living to this day, but yet, a brief detour awaited. On this night, Flair was admirable, the decade’s most decorated titan, truly revered. The reaction to this victory wasn’t a begrudging acknowledgment, instead a triumphant roar.

In many ways, the perfect path was now complete. Flair had re-established himself as the greatest of greats, setting the standard once more. Incredibly though, the whole picture was about to change. If a timeless trilogy was behind Flair, then an incomparable conflict was ahead. Seated ringside as one of the bout’s three official judges, Terry Funkwas ready to make some history of his own. Flair had found yet another new career-high, and in his own wild way, Funk was about to achieve something similar.

Cementing his organic shift in disposition, Flair embraced the audience’s adoration, even proclaiming Steamboat as the greatest champion he’d ever faced. That show of respect signified the story’s conclusion, and only seconds later, a new threat emerged. Initially mild-mannered and jovial, Funk interrupted Flair’s interview, proudly crowning himself the first to congratulate the champion. Wary of any trouble, Jim Rossthanked Funk hastily, subtly showing a concern that so perfectly encapsulated Funk’s aura. There was a raw sense of danger to his presence, even when packaged so neatly.

Funk wouldn’t leave either, first ensuring that if required, he’d have elected Flair the winner. Why? Well, the answer was simple, Funk considered Flair to be “the greatest wrestler in the world today.” After what Funk had just witnessed, that was a logical conclusion, but he still wasn’t content, awkwardly watching on before cheerfully challenging Flair himself. Funk’s delivery had such authenticity, a startling sincerity that only made the inevitable more gripping. Though honored, Flair declined, referencing Funk’s time in Hollywood, “rubbing shoulders with Sylvester Stallone.”

Flair wasn’t wrong, as Funk found himself over two years removed from truly full-time competition. Instead, Funk had indeed been in Hollywood, battling the aforementioned Stallone in Over the Topwhile also appearing in 1989’s Road House. At this point, Funk was six years removed from his first retirement. An already iconic figure that, in truth, didn’t have a point left to prove. Like Flair, though, he still had a long way to go, many chapters left to write. That comparison is obvious, but at this moment, the symmetry is striking.

With that being said, Funk was different. Now approaching his 45th birthday, Funk had well over a decade of distance between him and his sole NWA Worlds Title reign. Funk was a living legend, an international attraction that, at his best, appeared truly limitless. If “The Nature Boy” was an exquisite constant, Funk’s forms were far more varied. He was always consistent though unpredictable regardless. Whether Funk was an endearing hero or the most vicious and violent villain, he never felt unnatural. There was a commitment to Funk, an innate conviction that made anything feasible.

In one way or another, violence always followed Funk, but within that chaos, his range was historic. He was the critical crown jewel of a wrestling royal family, bringing a believability that’s seldom been matched since. In that sense, this exchange with Flair captured his brilliance better than my words ever could. Though affable upon arrival, Funk was now visibly agitated, perturbed by Flair’s dismissal. The champion was calm, cool and collected, accurately pointing out Funk’s absence from the top 10 rankings.

As far as the top titleholder was concerned, Funk was out of the picture, regardless of the legacy that followed his name. Now insulted, Funk’s demeanor continued to change, actively angered by the suggestion that he’s not a contender. He still wouldn’t leave, turning back and forth, lost between the two minds playing out in front of us. This time, however, Funk’s plan was in place, apologizing to Flair before flooring him with a single left hand. Flair’s trust was all that Funk needed, using a momentary handshake to set the stage for an unforgettable rivalry.

That sudden jolt was one of Funk’s finest, flipping a switch as only he could. This wasn’t a familiar attack but something far more stirring. Funk appeared truly unhinged, screaming wildly while messily plotting his next step, overcome by the possibilities with Flair at his mercy. The eventual piledriver is famous, but it’s the rest that makes it matter. In mere minutes, Funk had provided Flair with a beautifully berserk bridge, transitioning him from picturesque competition to something far more personal. This wasn’t showcasing skill with Steamboat; it was a different flavor altogether.

Funk brought an atmosphere that wasn’t manageable with athletic excellence. It was vengeful and bitter, impressively comparable in quality but stylistically, the exact contrast that Flair required. Best of all, they’d seldom met, barely sharing the ring until now. That’d soon change, of course, but first, Funk found his feet, swiftly scoring some televised wins. This included a short but memorable match withEddie Guerrero, who Funk knowingly featured while protecting his own importance. Flair recovered, in the meantime, while Funk battled Steamboat, making his hot streak apparent with a captivating Clash of Champions main event.

Funk’s motivation was evident, operating with an energy that stood out even for his high standards. The endgame remained clear as the wrestling world awaited Flair’s return. In the end, they waited almost three months, as Flair and Funk finally met at The Great American Bash, NWA Title on the line. Even before the combat began, Flair’s face told a tale, overcome with emotion and excitement. Though as stylish as ever, there was a pronounced poise to Flair’s crazed grin, a relief that at last, he could earn revenge.

It’s a wonderful contrast with Funk’s borderline bewildered state, disoriented by his dangerous delusion. Flair had felt this version of Funk before but no longer had any calm or cool left to respond. The result was a title tilt filled with intensity and passion, eventually drenched in blood. The crowd erupted at the champion’s every success, only fuelling Flair’s fire. The babyface role wasn’t a natural one for Flair, but on this night, that couldn’t be less relevant, fighting with aggression that so naturally matched Funk’s approach.

Now armed with the remarkable Gary Hartas his manager, Funk wasn’t to be upstaged either, embracing each and every spiteful exchange, creating a sense of genuine, almost frightening hostility. Incredibly, that PPV headliner and its famed post-match brawl are probably overshadowed in history, coming in second to its own sequel. That doesn’t lessen its magnificence as it’s one of the greatest matches in WCW history, and frankly, that could be understating its value. Either way, Flair remained champion at the bout’s conclusion, continuing his conflict with Funk in the months that followed.

Their chemistry was obvious, and only enhanced by circumstance, as the perfect puzzle pieces combined for an extraordinary program. Flair teamed with Sting, Funkwith The Great Muta, his J-Tex ally. The brilliance extended far beyond bell to bell action too. The pair continued to share moments that’d live long in the wrestling fan’s memory. That included a stunning angle on TBS, as an injured Funk evoked terror, attempting to suffocate Flair as he desperately forced a plastic bag over his head. The visual was discomforting, understandably controversial but yet, somehow fitting.

Things were escalating, and in these hands, the excess was believable bedlam. Flair and Funk had set the tone for their eventual rematch, reaching this collision course’s conclusion at Clash of Champions IX: New York Knockout. This moment was now bigger than any belt ever could be, which, considering Flair’s identity, said something in itself. This was a matter of pride, an issue too personal for the already flimsy rules of wrestling. It was about making another man say “I quit,” an everyday occurrence now perhaps, but then? Virtually unfathomable.

If their initial altercation was violent, this was outrageous, extreme even. That’s not a reflection of the content either. The brawling is just wilder, the brutality more focused. It’s direct, an unrelenting war befitting the stipulation, as courage is questioned and toughness tested. The work is wonderful, but its significance is telling, a credit to their efforts beforehand. They created an ambiance that, even over thirty years later, still demands your attention. It’s dangerous, almost disturbing, intoxicating in the bluntest, understated fashion. Funk’s chilling entrance doesn’t hurt, as Morricone’shaunting “Man With a Harmonica” echoes through the building.

Even in a vacuum, the immense excitement is entrancing. When you truly experience that emotion, it’ll stick with you forever. In this tale, Flair was the conquering hero, finally forcing Funk to say those unthinkable words. Funk’s chapter was complete, shaking Flair’s hand as promised, allowing the next path to begin. For now, at least, Funk was content, while for Flair, a return to the norm was on its way. With an iconic opening, enduring promos, memorable moments and breath-taking action, this angle’s appeal is simple.

In truth, its magic is broader than that. 1989 may represent unexpected peaks for Flair and Funk, but there’s a gravity to those names, a prestige to their presence that protects this program’s impression. It’s indelible, two of the greatest wrestlers of all time combining for two of the greatest matches ever. Together, they rewrote the perception of their already illustrious careers, adding another extension to what could’ve so easily been complete. Nineteen years later, Flair received the perfect farewell. Naturally, it was short-lived as, for better or worse, he remains Ric Flair.

Funk stands alongside Flair in that regard, perhaps even eclipsing him, managing another reinvention as retirements came and went. Along the way, their legacies remained secure, just as they already were on that fateful night in 1989. In an industry filled with greats, Ric Flair and Terry Funk stand almost alone, reasonably recognized as the greatest of all. They are bonded by 1989 but also by that unique connection. This feud is immortal as these men are immortal, linked forever because Terry Funk wanted to be a contender again and thankfully, Ric Flair wasn’t ready to stop being world champion.

Joe Hulbert is the  former co-host of Fightful’s “The Distraction” podcast and an alumni of Fightful for several years in a variety of roles working as Fightful.com’s lead MMA writer, as an on-air personality and as a feature writer. He now hosts Late Night Grin (https://linktr.ee/latenightgrin)

Twitter: @JoeHulbert