“Clichés are clichés, and an ass whoopin’s an ass whoopin’.”
My podcasting anchor, Road Warrior Mongoose, recommended this match. At face value, I was reluctant to review it. I’ve carefully built my brand as a scribe, railing against the world according to Vince McMahon and, now, Paul Levesque and TKO Group Holdings Inc.
WWE has taken its self-ascribed mission of telling stories to the illogical extreme, spending the last 45 years rewriting the history of professional wrestling. They canonize matches, maneuvers, and moments — using repetition to reinforce their version of the truth. In the same vein, they’ve manipulated the perception of wrestlers and the discourse surrounding them.
From a distance, it’s easy to assume the legacy surrounding Bret Hart and “Stone Cold” Steve Austin’s celebrated series of matches would be no different. Their match at “WrestleMania 13” was the first wrestling match to be inducted into the WWE Hall of Fame in 2025. That’s the kind of myth-making that the WWE excels at.
If you stripped away the corporate affiliation or all the pomp and circumstance that makes ordinary matches seem memorable — this still shines through the patina.
The men themselves need no introduction. However, there is a deeper discussion to be had here regarding the presence of context in critical analysis. Some matches, by virtue of their time, place, or preservation, lack a great deal of available context. It’s also true that, prior to the ilk of Vince McMahon’s WWF or Jerry Jarrett’s Memphis territory, angles were largely more simplistic (or less convoluted).
In comparison, it feels like we know too much about the inner workings of televised wrestling, from the eighties and onwards — to the point that it feels grossly incessant. Not only does it detract from the mystique, but it’s diminished the artistic literacy of wrestling fans. Still, it’s difficult to extricate what I do know, and that’s because Hart and Austin do such an impeccable job of avoiding everything that’s inessential.
From a distance, Hart and Austin seem to overlap so uniformly. Hart is only 40 years old, while Austin’s just weeks away from turning 33. More importantly, they both reached their zenith in the nineties. That couldn’t be further from reality, though. Their paths are crossing at a critical juncture.
Earlier in 1996, Hart lost the WWF Championship to Shawn Michaels at “WrestleMania 12.” This match at “Survivor Series” marks his in-ring return, after a seven-month absence from television. In the intervening months, the WWF toiled with the notion that The Hitman may retire. Hart, however, is still the WWF’s one true ace — even if he’s nearing the end of his rope.
Austin is younger, hungrier and indignant, but those qualities haven’t precluded him from the fans’ favor. That’s because Austin’s disdain is rooted in something uniquely humanistic: he’s been slighted. Some of that’s metatextual. He’s been slighted by WCW and Eric Bischoff. Now, by WWF management. At this point, he’s already won the “King of the Ring” tournament and delivered the iconic “Austin 3:16” promo, but he still has a chip on his shoulder.
Like tens of millions of other fans, I’m a Steve Austin guy. He reminds me of my father, in all the funniest and most intimidating of ways. You know who really likes Austin, though? Mongoose. On several occasions, Mongoose has been “Stone Cold” at my annual Halloween party (I’m always Roddy Piper). That’s why we’re here. Of all the WWE guys he could cling to, though, Austin’s not a bad choice. This might not be an insightful or original take anymore, but Austin’s beloved for all the wrong reasons. For all his charisma, range, quick wit, and box-office appeal; he was a damn fine wrestler. One of the greatest, in fact.
As a match, this excels in both form and function.
The commentary team of Vince McMahon and Jim Ross likens it to an outlaw trying to get the better of an aging gunslinger. Hart, of course, isn’t so content with becoming another notch on Austin’s belt. In light of everything that’s transpired over the last 30 years, we know that respect is Hart’s currency. In fact, he says as much from the outset of this match.
“I’m not somebody that’s greedy for money. I’m a person that’s greedy for respect.”
In this instance, Hart hopes that beating a wrestler of Austin’s caliber will earn him the respect he needs after a lengthy absence. What becomes apparent as the match unfolds, though, is that Hart just can’t quite control the terms of engagement. Austin is merciless, applying constant pressure with dogged intensity; meeting Hart at every pass.
Even when Hart tries to regroup and get things back on track, he just can’t win the small exchanges. Austin excels at finding ways to create separation, like raking Hart’s eyes during a sidewalk slam or using his momentum to throw him through the ropes. Still, Hart manages to stay the course and never lose his composure.
We’re told throughout the affair, from Ross’ commentary, that Austin has meticulously studied Hart in preparation for this match — relying on the film to outmaneuver the Hitman. For all his advanced scouting, Hart is still the “excellence of execution.” Where Austin overcommits to exploiting his habits, Hart is ready to improvise and make him pay, adapting as the affair devolves into a frantic frenzy. It’s proof that Hart is still the superior wrestler.
Ultimately, it’s Austin’s commitment to that film that leads to his demise, with Hart reversing the Million Dollar Dream into a pinning predicament.
The result is something that feels less like a match than it does a war between two different ideologies. Both men entered the ring with, relatively speaking, the same goals: a statement victory. In the end, nobody got what they wanted. What began as a dignified sporting event slowly descended into a glorified firefight.
Still, history would tell us that this match is a microcosm of a greater fight. Austin’s rise to prominence is the catalyst for the burgeoning “Attitude Era,” and, for all his sins, the crowd still embraces him. Bret Hart isn’t just an aging gunslinger. He’s a man on the precipice, returning to a world that feels foreign to him. And even though the ace conjured another miracle on holy ground, Hart’s victory didn’t offer him the catharsis he was searching for.
Therein lies the beauty of this match. The message isn’t spelled out in plain terms. We don’t need Vince McMahon or Jim Ross to tell us that Hart is trying to wade against a rising tide. Instead, the wrestling speaks for itself with confidence and clarity. That’s what makes this timeless.
RATING: ****½
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