The First Annual Barry Houston Job Fair!

A long overdue ode to one of the greatest "enhancement" talents in pro wrestling history!

By: Toxicka Shock

ToxickaShock@gmail.com

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In pro wrestling parlance, there are these performers known as "jobbers."

Now, depending on your perspective, such is either a pejorative or a term of endearment. I've even heard some people refer to such wrestlers as "enhancement talent," which to me, sounds WAY more condescending. Regardless of WHAT you call them, though, these people have one job and one job only — to get their asses kicked SPECTACULARLY.

Enter one Barry Houston.

If there was a hall of fame for pro rasslers who always got the crap beaten out of them, he'd be a first ballot nominee for sure. Born "Todd Passmore," Houston is a journeyman grappler who experienced the most fame in his career during the mid 1990s. The name may not be instantly familiar, but if you watched WCW television between the years 1994-1998, you almost certainly watched Houston get obliterated at least a time or two.

Pretty much ANYBODY who was a big name in World Championship Wrestling at that time had an opportunity to mercilessly whale on Houston. With his boyish good looks and his respectable-but-hardly Herculean physique, Houston was everything you could want out of a walking doormat. He took bumps like a pro, he knew how to arouse the faintest of false hopes in a crowd and he ALWAYS made his opponents look like they were death incarnate. His role may not have been the most envious in the wild and wooly world of professional wrestling, but he played it about as well as anybody could given the circumstances and limitations.

Which is why, today, we're giving Houston the LONNNNNNG overdue retroactive reverence he deserves. Looking for a master class in taking a scripted ass kicking? These eight iconc beatdowns are irrefutable proof that Houston was at the top of his class ... and if jobbers had a championship belt all their own, he'd be more than worthy of a crack at the title in any generation.

The Man. The Myth. The PUNCHING BAG.

Barry Houston and Todd Morton vs. Terry Funk and Bunkhouse Buck (July 16, 1994)

While Houston is perhaps most (in)famous for getting his ass handed to him in super-short singles contests, I reckon this suprisingly long (and surprisingly good) tag team match from the heyday of "WCW Saturday Night" is as good a place as any to introduce the uneducated to the Tao of Houston. Here, Barry is teaming up with Todd Morton, whose gimmick is that he's just a generic looking dude with a blond mullet. Their opponents tonight are legendary roughneck brawler Terry Funk and his protege Bunkhouse Buck, who looks like the kind of guy who would rape and murder you in a Wyoming reststop. So right off the bat, you KNOW this is going to be some quality entertainment. It's Barry and Funk to begin. Houston surprises Terry with an armdrag takedown so Funk slaps the ever-loving shit out of him in the corner. And when I say "the ever-loving shit," I mean so hard you actually see Barry's slobbery ass lips HIT the camera lens. Jesus that was a beautiful moment. Barry bails to the outside to chase after Funk, so Terry makes him pay with an atomic drop AND a power bomb on the cold, concrete studio floor. Back in the ring Funk hits Houston with a neckbreker, then he tosses his ass to the outside again so Buck can pummel him while the ref is distracted. Bunkhouse gets the tag and Houston absorbs even MORE punishment. Houston almost gets a flash pin, then he tags in his mullet head partner so he can get his ass kicked for a while, too. Morton actually gets a surprising amount of offense in on Buck, but as soon as Funk gets the tag he grabs hold of that motherfucker and piledrives him REAL gooood. Houston hits a top rope splash on Terry for a two-count and Buck re-enters the fracas. Houston takes another bump outside of the ring, which gives Terry ample time to DDT him on the concrete, too. Buck drops Barry with a boot to the chin, then Terry hangs him over the top rope like wet laundry and whips on him for a bit. Funk hits Houston with THREE back to back to back piledrivers and yep, that'll spell the end of that one. That was an eight-minute-long annihilation and Houston played his part PERFECTLY ... much to his chiropractor's chagrin, I can only assume.

Barry Houston and Erik Watts vs. Terry Funk and Bunkhouse Buck (Aug. 20, 1994)

Funk and Buck had so much fun whippin' Houston's sadsack ass that barely a month later, they leapt at the opportunity to obliterate him in television tag team action again. This time around, Barry's tag team partner is a more noticeable name — Erik Watts. And I assure you, the fact that his dad was the booker of the company at the time is a TOTAL coincidence. Barry is sporting red pants with white hearts, which makes him look A LOT like a short-haired Shawn Michaels. Again, I'm certain that this thing is just a grand coincidence. Houston puts Bunk in an armdrag early and connects on a hip toss. Barry hammers on Bunkhouse for a bit and Watts gets the tag. Commentator Jesse "The Body" Ventura reminds the audience at home that Watts was a one-time quarteback at the University of Louisville, which is actually a true fact. Funk trips up Watts while he's running off the ropes, then Funk grabs a goddamn trash can and tries to MOONSAULT on top of it while it's draped across Erik's body. Watts, of course, rolls out of the way at the last second and Terry flattens himself on the refuse bin. On the outside Buck slams Barry's head against the edge of the mat and, amazingly, Watts kicks out of a Funk DDT. Houston gets the tag and Terry immediately tosses him through the ropes again. Funk piledrives Houston on the concrete floor and he sells it like he just had his neurons turned into sugar-free gelatin. Back in the ring, Funk lifts Houston up for a suplex off the top rope. He makes good on it. Buck gets the tag and drops Barry with a boot to the jaw. Buck clobbers Houston with a solid right hand and that'll give the bad guys the three-count. In the post match antics, Houston has his hands tied together so Funk can literally scar his ass with a red hot branding iron. Shit, and I thought the working conditions at MY office were bad ...

Barry Houston vs. Arn Anderson (Oct. 22, 1994)

Arn Anderson is an old, rugged rassler's rassler who looked like he was 43 when he was 23. He does one thing and one thing only — and that's whallopin' the shit out of people. Naturally, A.A. looks to make an example out of poor Barry in this "WCW Saturday Night" demolition. Arn pinches Houston's cheek in a mocking tone in the corner and Barry goes for a headlock takedown. Arn drops him with a back elbow to the jaw and Barry responds by slapping the ever-lovin' taste out of Arn's mouth. Anderson responds with an inverted atomic drop (i.e., a knee up the ass) and Arn quikly sends Barry to dreamland via a vicious DDT out of nowhere. The full runtime? Barely two minutes.

I'm guessing that's not what he had in mind when they told him it was time for his close-up ...

Barry Houston vs. Big Van Vader (Dec. 24, 1994)

Wow, you just KNOW this one is going to be BRUTAL. At roughly 400 pounds (and with a penchant for really hurting his opponents in the ring) Vader is one of the most feared bad guys in the annals of pro rasslin lore. As you'd imagine, Houston's opening salvo against Vader is hardly effective and BVV drops him with a single head clap. For whatver reason, Barry's ring attire is powder blue pants with hearts all over it. Vader flattens Houston with a gorilla press slam, then he takes him to the canvas with a reverse powerbomb — i.e., he picks him up by the legs like they were the handles of a wheelbarrow and he just chucks that sumbitch over his head backwards. Houston absorbs a mean chokeslam and Vader hip tosses him outta' the ring. Once he claims back into the ring, Vader mugs Houston with a barrage of open hand slaps. One powerbomb later, and this thing is all over.

Barry Houston vs. Blacktop Bully (Feb. 05, 1995)

Blacktop Bully is a guy wearing a red shirt with cutoff sleeves and a white baseball cap. And he carries an airhorn with him. And I think his gimmick is that he's a truck driver or something. None of this is important, though, since we all know he's going to whup the tar out of Houston. This time Barry rocks yellow pants with hearts on them. Bully immediately takes him down with a headlock, then he works a long wristlock spot. Houston does a buncha' flips and stuff, but Bully immediately drops him with a single punch. Bully works another hammerlock submission hold (called the "Breaker 1-9," get it?) but Houston doesn't cry uncle quite yet. Houston gets some impressive air time on the receiving end of a backdrop, then Bully clobbers him right in the breadbasket. Bully hammers on Houston some more in the corner and the fans go CRAZY when Houston manages to kick his opponent in the face and land a couple of fists to his chrome dome. Of course, Bully simply yanks him off the top rope and chucks his ass halfway across the ring in response. Bully applies his "Breaker 1-9" submission again and this time, Barry has no choice but to call it quits. All I can is that Barry took that beating like a goddamn champion and it's nothing short of awe-inspiring. And I mean that in a totally unironic manner, too.

Barry Houston vs. Jushin Liger (Nov. 18, 1995)

Liger, with his over-the-top costume and oversized demon mask, is one of the most celebrated lightweight wrestlers of all-time. Houston gets barely four minutes to work his stuff here, including almost a full minute of wristlock counters and reversals. Of course, it isn't long until Barry eats an enzuigiri and gets dropkicked out of the ring. Then Liger hits Houston with a rolling ass bump to the face, which makes the crowd boo like crazy. By the way, this match is being filmed in an INSANELY tiny studio, so these guys have almost zero room to work their stuff. Liger misses on a follow-up senton off the top rope, which FINALLY gives Houston an opportunity to get some offense in. He stomps Liger a bit and connects on a bodyslam. Hell, Barry even manages to hit Liger with a nice looking floatover suplex ... and a goddamn flying crossbody off the apron! Houston hits another beautiful looking suplex on the arena floor — which Liger pretty much no sells en route to hitting Barry with a top rope suplex and another rolling senton. Liger hits Barry with a NASTY looking brainbuster — basically, dropping Houston right on his neck — in order to get the one, two and three. Well, it's hardly an all-time classic, but it's probably the best Barry EVER looked on TV. If you can only watch one Houston match over the course of your lifetime, be sure to make it this one.

barry Houston - unsung lucharesu legend.

Barry Houston vs. The Yeti (Jan. 29, 1996)

Hoo boy, The Yeti. Originally introduced as a seven-foot-tall mummy (with a predilection for hugging/humping people into oblivion), the character was ultimately recast as a generic "Mortal Kombat" ninja type. The Yeti chucks Barry out of the ring , then he hits Houston with a backbreaker. The Yeti keeps making karate hand motions, then he lifts Houston over his head and sends him sailing back to the canvas. Barry absorbs more chops in the corner and Houston tries to dropkick The Yeti — only to get scooped up in midair and crushed into the mat with a NASTY powerslam. And yeah, that's going to be one, two and three right there, kids.

Barry Houston vs. Fit Finlay (Nov. 23, 1997)

Irish brawler Finlay is well-regarded as one of the legitimate tough guys in the pantheon of pro wrestlers. Indeed, when he goes toe to toe with motherfuckers, his beatdowns are nothing short of majestic; when Finlay is at his best, he looks like he's LITERALLY trying to kill a fool in the ring. This was during the last few months of Houston's stint in WCW, and all these years later he's STILL rocking the lavendar tights with Hello Kitty hearts stenciled on 'em. There's a decent wristlock exchange to begin the bout and it isn't long until Fit starts working a toehold submission. Barry eats a clothesline and then Houston manages to rattle off a couple of great looking punches in the corner. You know, it always amazed me that whenever Houston got ANY offense in, the crowds always went electric. So maybe the guy was never world champion material, but considering how organically popular he was the masses, maybe he should've gotten a MILD push to the lower, lower mid-card. Alas, we can't rewrite history, but we CAN watch Finlay kick this dude in the spine really, really hard while the announcers try to convince you to order the 1997 World War Three Pay Per View spectacular. Finlay hits a shoulderblock and Houston manages to land a counter hiptoss. Finlay kicks Barry in the spine again and takes him to the canvas with a reverse armbar. Houston drops Finlay with a clothesline of his own, only for Fit to kick his opponent's legs out from under him and lock him in a hurty-looking Cobra clutch sleeperhold. The bell rings shortly thereafter ... and the hapless Houston collects another well-earned paycheck for looking so damn good while getting his ass beaten so horifically. If anybody deserves a folksy, half-ironic country ballad in their honor, it's DEFINITELY this guy right here.

XOXO, TOXICKA