Babyface Kamala

Kamala Babyface

Much as there are some folks in wrestling that should never be heels (Sting, I am looking at you), there are also some folks that should flat out never, ever be babyfaces. There are wrestlers that, for whatever reason, should stick on the side of the nogoodniks and stay there.

Think about a guy like, say, Shane Douglas. As a skateboarding smilin’ babyface, he absolutely sucked. As a foul mouthed, venom spewing d***head, he was great.

Ditto Scott Hall. Razor bad = good. Razor good = bad.

But to me, there was one guy that you simply should never be made to cheer. This man:

Anyone with Hulk Hogan’s head impaled on a spear? That there’s a heel, kids.

As you might suspect from the photo above, this would be Kamala, the Ugandan Giant. Hailing from the “deepest, darkest Africa”, not only was Kamala a wildman, he was also a CANNIBAL. When he made his arrival to the WWF in the late 1980’s, every week he’d be causing some level of chaos, and it was great. And every week, you can bet I’d tune in hoping that this…this would be the week.

The week he’d stuff that Hogan guy in a giant pot over an open flame, as Mr. Fuji and Kim Chee danced about said cauldron chopping up potatoes and carrots.

That may never have happened on television, but it did in my mind’s eye.

Yes, it sure did.

Anyway, following his initial megapush after his arrival in the WWF, his star began to fade and the company looked for new ways to get our man-eating savage in on the action.

And so we head to about 1993 or so when Kamala was being managed by Dr. Harvey Whippleman and “handled”, as always, by Kim Chee.

That’s the true sign of a wildman, by the way: the need to pay a man to do nothing but HANDLE you.

Whippleman had seen enough of the Ugandan’s losing ways, and began to browbeat him unmercifully. Eventually, of course, push literally came to shove and the pair attacked the suddenly sympathetic cannibal.

No joke – when I just typed those two words, ‘sympathetic cannibal’, I had to do it like five times because my fingers wouldn’t cooperate.

It was like they were flat out rejecting such a notion was coming from my noggin.

Anyway, Kamala wouldn’t be on his own for long. As soon as the beating began, Slick, newly converted himself from the dark side, came to his rescue.

The Reverend made a vow to educate Kamala, to teach him how to live in this here modern society.

And what better way to adapt him for the rigors of day to day life than taking him directly to…


With LORD ALFRED, no less!

Oh yes – you see, the Slickster firmly believed that the only way to prove that his man was now a civilized human being was to teach him HOW TO BOWL.

Now if you’re like me, the first thing you thought was, “But Slick…you can’t teach Kamala how to bowl! He’d have to wear shoes!”

Sho’ ’nuff, the very first thing Slick attempts to get his protege in a pair of size 12’s. Care to guess how that turned out?

To quote the Slickster…EXACITIVELY!

Next up, Slick tries a different approach, presenting Kamala with his own bowling ball, which Slick bought his his “HARD EARNED MONEY.”

This angle may be idiotic, but I have to say that no matter what ridiculous lines Slick had to force feed us, he did it in such a goofball manner that I can’t help but laugh. He seriously has more charisma in his pinky than half of the current WWE roster.

Eventually Kamala wound up with two balls in his hands.

I know there’s a joke there, but unfortunately Blade is apparently too drunk to answer the phone and tell me what it is.

Despite having his new shoes and new ball, Kamala just still ain’t quite got it. Sensing the confusion in his student, Slick gives out some tips.

Thanks for the wisdom, Slickster. I’m sure Kamala will be on the PBA tour soon with that sage advice.

Finally, finally, FINALLY…Kamala moves up to the line. After a couple of obligatory booty whaps, the giant lets the ball fly.

Unfortunately, the big lug heaves it backwards, much to the chagrin of the Slickster.

At this point, even Lord Alfred is like, “Dude, we’ve been here for two hours and that dumbass ain’t ever gonna get this.”

Completely deflated, Slick concurs and bows his head in defeat.

But what’s this?

Yes, in a COMPLETELY UNEXPECTED TWIST WE WOULDN’T HAVE SUSPECTED IN A THOUSAND MILLENIA, Kamala throws a strike while Slick’s back is turned!

The two share a warm embrace.

And perhaps some bodily fluids.

Unfortunately, Kamala’s aspirations of being the next Big Ern McCracken were cut short, as he was soon in WCW as a member of the Dungeon of Doom. Now that right there would have made for a hell of a league night.

As for Kamala, these days, it isn’t bowling that’s his passion. It’s singing!

That’s right, he’s singing for your pleasure! Kamala Sings, Volume 1, is now available for your listening pleasure. Thrill as the Ugandan Giant sings all your favorites, such as Tookie, Willie Did It, and our personal favorite, BOOTY GIRL. It’s an absolute bargain at just $15.

And we’d like to think that Kamala would donate a portion of the proceeds of this effort to the First Church of Slick. Seems that’s the least he could do for the man who civilized him.

Even if it was via the beer frame.

Lord Alfred: “Slick has been teaching Kamala to do many things. And today, he’s going to teach him how to bowl.”

Slick: “That’s right. Since I’ve taken to advising Kamala, I’ve taught him many many things. And today, being the consumate bowler I am, I’m going to teach him the art of BOWLING!”

Slick: “I paid for this with my own HARD EARNED MONEY. I want you to take this one, I think it will be better for you. “

Slick: “Now you just take your time and ROOOOOOOOOOLLL the ball! Don’t throw it like it was a SOFTBALL!”

Slick: “Well, I’m just disappointed. As much as it pains me to admit it we didn’t get the job done here with Kamala…”

(sound of ball rolling down the lane, pins falling down)

Slick: “That’s it! We did it!!”

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