If Barry Buchanan’s wrestling career were a playlist, it wouldn’t be anthems and platinum hits—it’d be deep cuts and bootlegs, treasured by die-hards who appreciate the grind more than the glam. Under various aliases—Recon, Bull Buchanan, B², and simply Buchanan—this 6’6” southern brawler carved out a career that spanned continents, promotions, and characters with more wardrobe changes than a Lady Gaga concert.
He may not have been the face of any era, but he was the body. The muscle. The reliable partner. The enforcer in your stable, the cog in your machine, the guy who took your tag finisher and got up for work the next day. This is the story of Bull Buchanan—professional wrestling’s most prolific co-pilot.
Chapter One: From The Punisher to Recon—The Southern Odyssey
Buchanan broke into wrestling in 1995 with the kind of name you’d expect from a Steven Seagal henchman: The Punisher. He wrestled in North Georgia and quickly teamed with Ric Savage as Body Count. His first real break came under the wing of Jim Cornette in Smoky Mountain Wrestling, playing muscle for Cornette’s “Militia” and mixing it up with the likes of The Bullet and Boo Bradley—names that sound like they belong on either a 1987 pay-per-view or in a bar fight.
He had cups of coffee in ECW and USWA, where he found his first real gimmick as Recon, part of the dystopian-sounding stable The Truth Commission. The group’s schtick was essentially: “What if fascists were really into shoulder pads?” Recon and his partner, The Interrogator, dominated the USWA tag scene, holding the titles three times and kicking off a career-long theme: Barry Buchanan was born to tag.
Chapter Two: A Soldier in Vince’s Army—Bull Buchanan in WWE
If tag team wrestling is a rock band, Buchanan was always the bassist: quiet, steady, underappreciated—but essential. His WWE debut in 1997 as part of The Truth Commission fizzled like a wet firecracker, and after a brief stint in developmental (OVW), he re-emerged in 2000 alongside Big Boss Man. Dressed in riot gear and presumably flak jackets from a surplus store, Buchanan was now Bull, the SWAT-style muscle for a corrections officer gimmick that hadn’t evolved since Reagan was in office.
Still, this pairing clicked. They defeated The Godfather and D’Lo Brown at WrestleMania 2000 and even knocked off the Acolytes at Backlash. But Buchanan’s greatest strength—being a reliable sidekick—was also his curse. When Boss Man turned on him, Bull was cast back into the wild.
But salvation came in a buttoned-up, khaki-pants-wearing form: Right to Censor.
Chapter Three: Right to Censor—The Glory of Monotony
Picture a morality police unit formed by the FCC and managed by a televangelist. That was RTC, the most heel-heat-gathering stable of its day. And Buchanan—clean-shaven, humorless, and dressed like a substitute principal—fit in perfectly.
Paired with The Goodfather, the two became one of the company’s most reviled duos, defeating the Hardy Boyz for the WWF Tag Team Championships and riding that wave of rage into big pay-per-view matches at Survivor Series, Rebellion, and WrestleMania X-Seven. Their reign was loud, unpopular, and utterly effective.
But once the censorship schtick wore thin and RTC disbanded, Buchanan’s utility again became his liability. No frills, no catchphrases, no problem—but also, no push.
Chapter Four: B²—Yo Yo Yo, It’s Bling Bling Buchanan
Then came the weirdest, shortest, and most delightful reinvention in Buchanan’s playbook: B², aka B-Squared, the rhyming, hand-sign-throwing muscle to a young, rapping John Cena. Cena’s white-boy-thug persona was still being cooked in the gimmick kitchen, and B² added the necessary visual of a streetwise enforcer.
He rarely spoke, but when he did, he punctuated Cena’s rhymes with an aggressive “BOO-YAH!” that somehow stuck. They had one notable tag title shot against Los Guerreros—and lost. Cena turned on him two months later. Like any good hype man in wrestling, he got replaced with a newer, shinier model (in this case, Redd Dogg, later Rodney Mack).
And just like that, B² was gone—released in January 2003 after a quick Royal Rumble appearance that lasted 24 seconds. But for a minute there, he had the coolest job in wrestling: being John Cena’s muscle in cargo pants.
Chapter Five: Big in Japan—Buchanan Reborn
What do you do when WWE doesn’t want you anymore? You go to Japan and get stiff.
From 2003–2007, Buchanan found a second (and arguably more rewarding) career in All Japan Pro Wrestling and later Pro Wrestling NOAH. He joined stables like Roughly Obsess and Destroy and Voodoo Murders, adding a bruising, credible American presence to every faction he entered.
With partners like D’Lo Brown and Rico, Buchanan captured:
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The All Asia Tag Team Championships
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The GHC Tag Team Championships in NOAH
In Japan, Buchanan was no longer a gimmick. He was a gaijin wrecking ball. Quiet, dependable, and suddenly devastating. The kind of worker Japanese crowds adore: strong, stoic, and respectful of the craft.
His tenure wasn’t flashy, but it was a career exhale—a chance to wrestle hard, be appreciated, and finally be the guy, not the sidekick.
Chapter Six: Back Home, Last Rounds, and a Wrestling Legacy
Back in the States, Buchanan returned to the independent scene, winning regional titles in Georgia Championship Wrestling and forming a stable called Bad Company. He teamed with names like AJ Steele, Johnny Swinger, and David Young, capturing multiple tag titles across the southern indy circuit.
He officially retired in 2014—or so we thought.
In 2019, Buchanan returned for a tag match. His partner? His son, Ben Buchanan, now better known to WWE fans as Brooks Jensen in NXT. It was a passing of the torch moment for a man who’d spent his entire career helping others shine.
In 2024, Buchanan opened Bullpen Professional Wrestling in Bowdon, Georgia—a fitting name for a guy who spent his entire career warming up, being ready, and saving the game when needed.
Epilogue: The Wrestler’s Wrestler
Bull Buchanan will never headline a Hall of Fame. He may never get a Funko Pop, a podcast, or a bronze statue.
But ask Big Boss Man. Ask Cena. Ask D’Lo, Taka, or any tag partner from Japan to Memphis. Ask Brooks Jensen, who’s literally carrying his legacy on his back.
They’ll tell you Bull Buchanan was more than a role player.
He was the whole damn infrastructure.
And if wrestling is a team sport, then Barry Buchanan is a first-ballot Hall of Famer in the Brotherhood of Backbone.
