The first temptation is to say that tradition has abandoned WrestleMania,

that this grand spectacle, this enticing blend of celebrity and athleticism,

has been taken hostage by a new generation of robes.

The baddest man on the planet, the toughest SOB, the reigning champion and number one, degenerate.

These are men determined to write their own destiny, to hell with historians who will

pen their tale.

But tradition is indeed alive and well.

Because after all, despite the brash bravado, it's the allure of World Wrestling Federation Gold that has brought these men here tonight.

The very belt that has immortalized Andre, Hulk, and Samartino, the symbol of excellence that has inspired guerrilla monsoon, the big cat Ernie Ladd, Classy Freddie Blassie.

A lineage created by Vincent J. McMahon some 50 years ago.

So tonight, through sacrifice and pain,

through breathtaking displays of athleticism that define mortal boundaries,

these men that shun tradition are destined to become part of it.

It's WrestleMania, the grandest of spectacles, the showcase of the immortals, a time to revel in the occasion.

And somewhere beyond the spotlights, the father of the World Wrestling Federation, will revel in it too.

And now, WrestleMania.

Welcome everyone to the Grand Daddy of them all. Welcome to Coltolic Classic Raw Reviews,

WrestleMania 14 retro reactions. If you'd like to know how beautiful I sound, Zoom has just gone, are you playing music? No, Zoom. It is just my voice,

the dulcet tones of me, the radio presenter with that portfolio and fake Georgie Tom Campbell.

And I am honored to be joined via a communication line from the northeast to the northwest, the malignant

to my oh hair, the rambunctious Jai Orlando.

How are you, Jai, my Yari.

...