Rick Rude was anything but rude. In any circle of friends and phonies, you take the good with the bad. And the bad makes you appreciate the good even more
At the height of my road days, when 300 flights in 300 towns a year was normal, strangers became family and family became strangers. You can't pick your family but you can pick your friends. Rick Rude was one of the best picks I ever made. He was a great family man. He loved his wife. He was one of those kind of guys who never took his wedding ring off. He put a white piece of tape around it when he went into the ring.
He was the kind of guy that when you needed someone to back you up, he wouldn't flinch at all. Not for money. Not for anything. When McMahon and his sidearm barged into my dressing room in Montreal, Rick was there. He was one of the guys who refused to budge. Refused to allow me to be put in a compromising position. Rick Rude stayed there to make sure my back was watched.
There were, and are, some people who think the whole thing that happened between McMahon and I was a hoax. Rick was the one who called Eric Bishoff to say he was there, and told him what had happened. When I was forming new business relationships in WCW, Rude's call protected me and saved me from a lot of doubt, because even Eric Bishoff had to question whether this was a set-up or not. I was always grateful to Rick for making that call and for being with me in the room that day.
