In the history of professional wrestling, there are storylines that fail because of bad timing, storylines that fail because of bad matches, and storylines that fail because they are fundamentally broken from conception to execution. The saga of “The Black Scorpion” in 1990 belongs firmly in the third category.
It was an angle that attempted to blend the gritty, athletic tradition of the National Wrestling Alliance (NWA) with the cartoonish spectacle of the World Wrestling Federation (WWF), but succeeded only in alienating the core audience of World Championship Wrestling (WCW). It involved magic tricks, voice modulators, a spaceship landing at the biggest show of the year, and the humiliation of the company’s greatest performer, Ric Flair.The Black Scorpion is often cited as the definitive example of the incompetence of the Jim Herd era of WCW. It is a case study in booking without an endgame, promising a mystery that could never be satisfyingly resolved, and forcing a wrestling god to act like a B-movie villain.
The Context: Sting Needs a Rival
To understand why the Black Scorpion existed, one must look at the state of WCW in the summer of 1990. At the Great American Bash, Sting had finally defeated Ric Flair to win the NWA World Heavyweight Championship. It was the culmination of a year-long chase and was intended to launch Sting as the new face of the company for the 1990s.
However, once the chase was over, WCW faced a problem: Who does the new champion fight? Ric Flair was moving away from the title picture (at the insistence of executive Jim Herd, who wanted to freshen up the main event scene). The roster lacked a terrifying heel who had a personal history with Sting.
The creative team, led by Ole Anderson, devised a solution. They would create a “mystery man” from Sting’s past. This villain would not just be a wrestler; he would be a psychological tormentor who knew Sting’s deepest secrets. He would be called The Black Scorpion.
The premise was intriguing. The execution, however, immediately veered into the absurd.
The Voice and the Body
The character debuted in vignettes. He wore a black hooded robe and a black mask. His voice was distorted electronically, producing a deep, gravelly, menacing tone that constantly shouted, “Stiiiing!”
The man providing the voice was Ole Anderson. The problem was that Ole Anderson had a very distinctive voice and cadence. Despite the distortion, astute fans immediately recognized the Booker’s speech patterns. However, Anderson was 48 years old and retired from active competition; he was not going to be the man in the ring.
This created a disconnect. The voice promised a ghost from the past, specifically hinting at the days when Sting and the Ultimate Warrior were tag team partners (The Blade Runners) or Sting’s time in California. But the bodies in the ring did not match the lore.
Throughout the months-long feud, several different wrestlers played the physical role of the Black Scorpion at house shows and on television. Al Perez, a talented journeyman, was the primary performer under the mask for the matches. Dave Sheldon, who wrestled as The Angel of Death, also donned the hood. The inconsistency in the Black Scorpion’s height, weight, and wrestling style was noticeable to the audience, undermining the mystery.
The Magic Tricks
Where the storyline truly fell apart was in the supernatural elements. Jim Herd, the Pizza Hut executive turned wrestling boss, wanted to add “entertainment” to the product. He believed that simple wrestling matches were not enough. He pushed for the Black Scorpion to be a magician.
The segments became legendary for their campiness. In one instance, the Black Scorpion claimed he would turn a fan into a tiger. A plant from the audience was placed into a box. When the box was opened, a tiger (or a leopard, depending on the broadcast quality) emerged. The trick was executed with the production value of a child’s birthday party.
In another segment, the Black Scorpion kidnapped a woman, placed her in a spinning device, and made her disappear. These illusions clashed violently with the presentation of WCW, which was broadcast on TBS and marketed as a legitimate athletic contest. Fans who tuned in to see the Steiner Brothers suplex people were suddenly watching low-budget David Copperfield skits.
Sting, the World Heavyweight Champion, was forced to act terrified of these parlor tricks. It damaged his credibility as a fighting champion, making him look like a participant in a Saturday morning cartoon rather than the top athlete in the sport.
The Panic: Who is Under the Mask?
As Starrcade 1990 approached, the creative team realized they had a massive problem: they didn’t have an ending.
They had promised the fans that the Black Scorpion would be unmasked at the biggest show of the year. The identity had to be someone huge. It had to be someone who could justify months of build-up and magic tricks. It had to be a former partner or a legendary rival.
The original plan was reportedly Al Perez, but he quit the company or was deemed not a big enough star for the main event of Starrcade. They considered Dave Sheldon, but he was a mid-carder. There were rumors they reached out to the Ultimate Warrior (then the WWF Champion), which was contractually impossible.
With weeks to go and tickets sold, Ole Anderson and Jim Herd looked at the only man on the roster with the star power to save the main event: Ric Flair.
Ric Flair was the antithesis of the Black Scorpion. He was the “Nature Boy.” He wore $10,000 robes, not black hoods. He drove limousines, he didn’t perform magic. He had just lost the title to Sting cleanly. Putting him under the mask made zero narrative sense. Why would Ric Flair, a man obsessed with fame and glory, hide his identity? Why would he perform magic tricks?
Flair reportedly hated the idea. He viewed it as humiliating. However, he was a company man, and the company was desperate. He agreed to do the job.
Starrcade 1990: The Spaceship
The Starrcade event took place at the Kiel Auditorium in St. Louis on December 16, 1990. The arrival of the Black Scorpion was hyped throughout the broadcast.
To accommodate the “magic” theme, the Black Scorpion did not walk to the ring. Instead, what appeared to be a flying saucer—or a very large industrial fan assembly covered in tinfoil and lights—descended from the ceiling. It looked like a prop from a 1950s sci-fi movie.
When the ramp lowered, “The Black Scorpion” (Ric Flair in a mask) emerged. The commentators, Jim Ross and Paul E. Dangerously (Paul Heyman), tried their best to sell the spectacle, but the visual was undeniably ridiculous.
The Cage Match and the Messengers
The match itself was a Steel Cage match with the title on the line and a “Title vs. Mask” stipulation. Because it was Ric Flair and Sting, the actual wrestling was good. Flair, even under a hood, moved like Flair. He took his signature bumps, he chopped, and he flopped. The savvy St. Louis crowd began to murmur. They recognized the mannerisms.
To protect the mystery (and perhaps to cover for Flair’s distinct style), the booking called for interference. Multiple “Black Scorpions” ran down to the ring from the back. These were other wrestlers in identical costumes. They attacked Sting.
The match devolved into chaos. Finally, Sting managed to fight off the imposters and hit a flying crossbody from the top rope on the “real” Black Scorpion for the pinfall.
The Unmasking
The post-match angle is etched in wrestling infamy. Sting locked the Black Scorpion in a submission hold while the referee attempted to remove the mask.
The mask was tight. As the referee struggled, Ric Flair’s signature bleach-blonde hair popped out from under the hood. The mystery was solved before the mask was even off.
When the mask was finally ripped away, revealing a sweating, red-faced Ric Flair, the reaction was not shock—it was exhaustion. Jim Ross screamed, “It’s Ric Flair! It’s been Ric Flair all along!”
But it hadn’t been Ric Flair all along. The fans knew it. The logic holes were gaping. If it was Flair, why did he sound like Ole Anderson? How did he perform the magic tricks? Why did he care about Sting’s past in California?
The show went off the air with the audience confused and the credibility of the main event scene in tatters.
The Aftermath
The failure of the Black Scorpion angle had immediate repercussions. It proved that Jim Herd’s vision of “sports entertainment” did not work with the WCW audience or roster.
Remarkably, just a few weeks later, on January 11, 1991, Ric Flair defeated Sting to win the NWA World Heavyweight Championship at a house show in New Jersey. The company essentially hit the reset button. They ignored the Black Scorpion debacle and went back to what worked: Ric Flair vs. Sting in a straight wrestling match.
However, the damage to the relationship between Flair and Herd was cumulative. Being forced to participate in the Black Scorpion angle was one of the many indignities that led Flair to leave WCW for the WWF later in 1991, taking the Big Gold Belt with him.
Legacy of the Scorpion
Today, the Black Scorpion is remembered affectionately on “worst of” lists and a favorite topic for wrestling podcasts.
It serves as a permanent reminder of the dangers of starting a mystery storyline without knowing the ending. It highlights the cultural clash between the NWA and the Turner-owned WCW.
For Sting, it was a stumbling block in his first title reign that prevented him from establishing dominance. For Ric Flair, it was a paycheck earned the hard way, proving that he could have a good match with anyone—even himself, hidden under a mask and a bad idea.
The image of the tinfoil spaceship descending in St. Louis remains the perfect visual metaphor for the angle: a flashy, expensive vehicle that ultimately contained nothing but hot air.
