Opis
Wrist Wrestling Mayhem: Ric Flair vs Terry Funk
“WOOOO!” Meets “WILD WEST TEXAS” in a Match for the Ages
THE NATURE BOY COLLIDES WITH THE FUNKSTER
Dust, sweat, and decades of bad blood flew across the table in this wrist wrestling war between two of the most iconic (and unhinged) legends in professional wrestling history: Ric “The Nature Boy” Flair and Terry “Middle-Aged and Crazy” Funk.
These men weren’t just opponents—they were living, bleeding history books. And when they sat across from each other at the wrist wrestling table, you could feel the tension thick enough to chop like a Flair knife-edge across the chest.
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Ric Flair – Stylin’, Profilin’, Wrist-Wrenchin’ Machine
Sixteen-time world champion, limousine-ridin’, jet-flyin’, kiss-stealin’, Rolex-wearin’, wheelin’-dealin’ son of a gun. That’s Ric Flair. Known for his flashy robes, golden hair, and constant WOOOOO-ing, Flair combined technical skill with pure showmanship to become one of wrestling’s most legendary figures.
When Flair approached the wrist wrestling table, he did it in a full custom suit, kissed two women on the cheek, and dropped a “WOOOO” so loud it made the ref flinch. He slicked his hair back, looked Terry dead in the eye, and said, “You may be tough, but I’m Ric Flair, baby. These wrists were made for championship gold.”
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Terry Funk – Hardcore Pioneer & Texas Chaos King
Terry Funk doesn’t wrestle. He survives. The man has wrestled through five different decades, shed more blood than most horror films, and once threw chairs at people while wearing cowboy boots and a bandana. From the NWA to ECW, Funk made a career out of being unpredictable, dangerous, and strangely loveable.
At the table, Funk wore a sweat-stained T-shirt, cowboy hat, and a look in his eye that said, “I’ll flip this whole table if you disrespect Amarillo.”
“Flair, you peacock-lookin’ sumbitch,” Funk grumbled, “I’ve been in bar fights with more honor than you.”
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The Match
SLAM. Hands locked. Elbows planted. Trash talk flying.
Flair immediately went for the psychological edge. “This wrist? This wrist has held more gold than Fort Knox, Terry! WOOOO!”
Funk leaned in slowly, whispering, “You ever been hit with a branding iron during a match, Ric?” The table shook.
It was a brutal, grinding match. Flair used pure technique—wrist control, leverage, flair (pun intended). Funk? Funk just leaned in and grunted like a bison.
Midway through, Flair tried to distract the ref to gain an advantage (old habits die hard). Funk responded by flipping the table slightly and cackling like a lunatic. They reset.
Then—CRACK—Funk spat his chewing gum directly at Flair’s Rolex. Flair screamed “THIS COST MORE THAN YOUR HOUSE!” and overcorrected… leaving his wrist exposed.
Funk growled, pushed down, and SLAMMED Flair’s hand to the table like it owed him money.
Winner: Terry Funk.
Loser: Flair’s ego (but not his wardrobe).
Afterward, Funk offered a handshake. Flair slapped it away and strutted off yelling “I still look better than you, you old outlaw!” to thunderous laughter.
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