They were massive. Honestly, if you grew up watching the WWE during the Attitude Era or the Ruthless Aggression years, you couldn't escape the shadow of Big Show and Kane. These guys weren't just wrestlers; they were the structural pillars of the company. When a creative team didn't know how to make a new hero look credible, they threw them into a ring with a seven-foot giant or a fire-breathing monster. It's a formula as old as time, but nobody did it quite like Glenn Jacobs and Paul Wight.
Think about the sheer physical presence.
Paul Wight—the Big Show—was billed at seven-foot-four and five hundred pounds. Even if those numbers were slightly inflated for TV, the man was a mountain. Then you had Kane. The "Big Red Machine." He wasn't quite as tall as Show, but he moved like a middleweight. Watching Kane top-rope clothesline a guy while wearing a heavy leather mask is still one of the most underrated sights in sports entertainment.
The Complicated Bromance of Big Show and Kane
People forget how often these two were actually on the same side. They didn't just fight; they dominated the tag team division. Their 2005 run as World Tag Team Champions was basically a demolition derby. They beat everyone from MNM to Trevor Murdoch and Lance Cade. It wasn't about technical wrestling. It was about two guys who could literally pick up their opponents like they were grocery bags.
WWE loves the "can they coexist?" trope. With Big Show and Kane, the answer was usually a terrifying "yes."
But then they’d turn on each other. That’s just the nature of the business. One week they are the most dominant duo in the world, and the next, Big Show is getting his throat collapsed by a steel chair. They had this weird, career-long tether to one another. If one was a face, the other was often a heel. It provided a perfect internal barometer for the WWE roster. If you could survive a Chokeslam from either of them, you were officially a "made man."
Moving Beyond the "Monster" Stereotype
Wrestling fans can be harsh. You’ll hear people online complaining that big men are "boring" or that they "can't work." That’s total nonsense when you look at the longevity of Big Show and Kane. You don't stay at the top of a billion-dollar industry for twenty-plus years by just being tall.
Kane, for instance, had to reinvent himself constantly. He went from a silent, masked freak to a talking psychopath, then to an unmasked monster, and eventually to "Corporate Kane" in a fitted suit. It was absurd. It was campy. But Jacobs made it work because he understood the psychology of the character. He knew when to be scary and when to be the butt of the joke.
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Big Show had a different path. He was the "Giant." He bore the burden of being compared to Andre the Giant from day one. He’s gone on record in interviews, including his appearances on The Steve Austin Show podcast, discussing the pressure of living up to that legacy while dealing with a body that was constantly under immense physical stress. Most guys his size burn out in five years. Show stayed relevant for decades.
The Night Everything Changed: May 19th
If you know, you know.
The "May 19th" storyline is one of those fever-dream moments in wrestling history. It was a psychological horror angle where Kane was being haunted by his past—specifically the date his family supposedly died in a fire. It led to a feud between the "Real" Kane and an "Imposter" Kane (played by Doc Gallows in a wig).
Where was Big Show? He was right there in the middle of it.
The two were Tag Team Champions during the lead-up to this madness. Watching Big Show try to reason with an increasingly unstable, voices-in-his-head Kane was actually decent television. It showed a layer of their "friendship" that usually got ignored in favor of powerbombs. It’s also a prime example of how WWE used Big Show and Kane to anchor the mid-card while the main event scene was transitioning between eras.
Why the Modern Era Misses This Dynamic
Look at the roster today. We have incredible athletes, but we don't have the "Giants."
Braun Strowman and Omos try to fill that void, but there was a specific gravity that Big Show and Kane brought to the ring. When they walked down the ramp, the energy in the arena shifted. It felt heavy. Part of that is because they grew up in a locker room full of sharks. They learned how to sell for smaller guys without losing their aura—a delicate balance that many modern big men struggle to find.
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- Longevity: Both men wrestled well into their late 40s and early 50s.
- Safety: Despite their size, they were known as "safe" workers who rarely injured their peers.
- Versatility: They could do comedy (Show's New Year's Baby skit) and pure horror (Kane's "See No Evil" era).
It’s easy to look back with rose-tinted glasses, but let’s be real: not every match was a five-star classic. They had some stinkers. The "Chain Match" at Vengeance 2006 isn't exactly going into the Hall of Fame for its technical prowess. But the spectacle was always there. You were watching two of the largest humans on earth try to kill each other. That has value.
Real World Impact and the "Mayor" Factor
It’s impossible to talk about Kane and Big Show without mentioning who they are outside the ring. Glenn Jacobs is the Mayor of Knox County, Tennessee. Paul Wight is a commentator and occasional wrestler for AEW.
This transition says a lot about their intelligence. To survive the wrestling business with your brain intact and your reputation solid is the ultimate win. Jacobs, a staunch libertarian, used the discipline he learned on the road to pivot into politics. Wight used his charisma to land acting roles in shows like The Big Show Show and movies like Knucklehead.
They broke the "dumb giant" trope.
Examining the Technical Side of the Chokeslam
The Chokeslam is their shared signature. But they did it differently.
Big Show’s Chokeslam was about power. He would lift a guy up, hold him there for a second to let the crowd gasp, and then shove him into the canvas. It was a vertical drop. Kane’s version was more snap-centric. He used his long levers to whip the opponent down, often falling with them to add impact.
When they hit a Double Chokeslam? Forget about it. The ring would literally sag. That move is the definitive image of their partnership. It represented a combined weight of nearly 900 pounds focusing all that energy on one poor soul’s back.
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What Most People Get Wrong About Their Feuds
The biggest misconception is that they hated working with each other. In reality, they were close friends. You have to trust someone immensely to let them pick you up and throw you when you're that size.
There was a series of matches they had on house shows—non-televised events—where they would actually try to out-wrestle each other. Fans have told stories for years about seeing Big Show pull out a dropkick or Kane doing technical chain wrestling just to amuse themselves. They were students of the game who were often trapped in the "Giant" box by WWE management.
They weren't just big; they were talented.
Actionable Insights for Fans and Students of the Game
If you’re a fan of the "Big Man" style, or a pro wrestling trainee looking to understand how to work as a giant, there are specific things to study in the Big Show and Kane archives:
- Watch their "selling": Look at how Big Show reacts when a smaller guy like Rey Mysterio hits him. He doesn't just fall; he stumbles. He makes the smaller guy look like a giant-killer.
- Study the pacing: Notice how they never rush. They use their size to dictate the tempo of the match. If the crowd is too quiet, they slow down. If the crowd is hot, they roar.
- Analyze the character shifts: Watch Kane from 1997, 2003, and 2012. He is three different people. That’s how you stay employed for 20 years.
- The "Vocal" Game: Big Show was one of the first giants to use his voice in the ring. His "shushing" before a chest chop became a legendary crowd-participation moment.
The era of the "True Giant" might be fading as wrestling moves toward a more high-flying, athletic style, but the blueprint left by Big Show and Kane is permanent. They proved that you can be a monster, a champion, a tag team specialist, and a legitimate locker room leader all at once. Without them, the landscape of the 2000s would have been much smaller—and significantly less interesting.
To truly appreciate their work, go back and watch their matches from Backlash 2006 or their tag title win against Batista and Rey Mysterio. It’s a masterclass in how to use size as a storytelling device. They didn't just fill space in the ring; they commanded it.