Y'all Up on This? Deadspin's Wrestler Run In Column

[Reality Check]

For the Matt Hardy supporters

My wife and I were in the Oklahoma City airport after packing up our lives and moving from Okinawa. It was the weekend of Unforgiven, which was being held in OKC. I hadn't watched wrestling in a while, but I bought tickets anyhow.

So we're standing in baggage claim after about 22 hours of combined airport and plane time, and I was obviously really tired. I look up and immediately see Matt Hardy, who I never much cared for. I look at my wife and say "Hey, look...that's Matt Hardy. God damn did he get fat!" in what I thought was a whisper. Uh, not so much. He whipped his head around with this super pissed off look on his face, just as our last bag came through.

 

[Heelish]

Supposedly the wrestler was supposed to be Sgt. Slaughter, who would pull up in his camouflage limousine and then come in an greet the students.

We turned around and to our amazement, there was Randy Savage in full Macho Man regalia.

That's like expecting Hardcore Holly to show up but instead it's AUSTIN

 

[seanjohn21276]

Another story about Taker
David:

I was a huge wrestling fan when I was a young kid. WWF and WCW were like a religion to me. I watched it as much as I could and my friends and I constantly reenacted what we saw. I stopped watching about the time I turned 14, but still knew who was around from the earlier days because of my friends.

I worked at a sporting goods store during high school and occasionally a professional athlete came in to get something, though no one really exciting. Until this day. I was in the team sports area (football, baseball, soccer, etc...) when an attractive blonde woman comes up and asks me if we carry wooden baseball bats. I say we do and lead her over to the rack. I immediately spin it around so the tee-ball bats are facing her, thinking it's for her son, when she stops me and says it's actually for her husband. I say something to the effect of, oh well he'd probably be better off picking out one for himself because of the length and weight. I asked her if he was around and she says that he's waiting in the car but she'll go get him and come back.

At this point I'm figuring he's some over the hill guy trying to relive his glory days in a wood bat league and that he'll just come in and grab whatever is the cheapest. A few minutes later I hear her say we're back can you still help us? I say sure and turn around and and staring a gigantic man straight in the chest. I'm 6'4, this dude is huge. I look up, and it's none other than The Undertaker. I'm immediately frozen. Like any kid growing up in the '90s, the 'Taker was one of my absolute favorites. I somehow mutter something to the effect of, the bats are over here, and start walking towards them. He laughs, and follows me to the rack. After getting over my initial starstruckness, I end up having a conversation with them both. We talked about how wrestling has changed, his injuries, stuff like that. They were incredibly nice and even asked if I wanted to "take a picture with Mark." I declined saying I'd probably get in trouble for it since I'm at work but thanked them anyways. He settles on a bat, a black Louisville Slugger (shocking right?), shakes my hand and says thanks for all the help. He starts to walk away but turns around, rolls his eyes in to the back of his head and says "Be sure to watch next week, you may see something you recognize" as he pats his hand on the bat a few times.

I didn't watch the following week and will never know if he actually used that bat, but I'd like to think I had a small hand in someone getting smashed in the face with it. Oh, and the best part, on his way out of the store I saw him stop and talk to my manager. A few minutes later my manager comes up and says that some "big tattooed guy" said how helpful I was and that I deserved a raise. Too bad that raise never happened. But I appreciated him going out of his way to do that.
That's our Taker

 

[Golayitdown]

Another story about Taker
David:

I was a huge wrestling fan when I was a young kid. WWF and WCW were like a religion to me. I watched it as much as I could and my friends and I constantly reenacted what we saw. I stopped watching about the time I turned 14, but still knew who was around from the earlier days because of my friends.

I worked at a sporting goods store during high school and occasionally a professional athlete came in to get something, though no one really exciting. Until this day. I was in the team sports area (football, baseball, soccer, etc...) when an attractive blonde woman comes up and asks me if we carry wooden baseball bats. I say we do and lead her over to the rack. I immediately spin it around so the tee-ball bats are facing her, thinking it's for her son, when she stops me and says it's actually for her husband. I say something to the effect of, oh well he'd probably be better off picking out one for himself because of the length and weight. I asked her if he was around and she says that he's waiting in the car but she'll go get him and come back.

At this point I'm figuring he's some over the hill guy trying to relive his glory days in a wood bat league and that he'll just come in and grab whatever is the cheapest. A few minutes later I hear her say we're back can you still help us? I say sure and turn around and and staring a gigantic man straight in the chest. I'm 6'4, this dude is huge. I look up, and it's none other than The Undertaker. I'm immediately frozen. Like any kid growing up in the '90s, the 'Taker was one of my absolute favorites. I somehow mutter something to the effect of, the bats are over here, and start walking towards them. He laughs, and follows me to the rack. After getting over my initial starstruckness, I end up having a conversation with them both. We talked about how wrestling has changed, his injuries, stuff like that. They were incredibly nice and even asked if I wanted to "take a picture with Mark." I declined saying I'd probably get in trouble for it since I'm at work but thanked them anyways. He settles on a bat, a black Louisville Slugger (shocking right?), shakes my hand and says thanks for all the help. He starts to walk away but turns around, rolls his eyes in to the back of his head and says "Be sure to watch next week, you may see something you recognize" as he pats his hand on the bat a few times.

I didn't watch the following week and will never know if he actually used that bat, but I'd like to think I had a small hand in someone getting smashed in the face with it. Oh, and the best part, on his way out of the store I saw him stop and talk to my manager. A few minutes later my manager comes up and says that some "big tattooed guy" said how helpful I was and that I deserved a raise. Too bad that raise never happened. But I appreciated him going out of his way to do that.
That's our Taker

Always hear good things about my Undertaker :smurf:

 

[KEEPITTRILLA]

i been reading these for like the past 2 hours

 

[Popi]

Its Wednesday, latest edition is up...

When I was little (very little), my dad turned on Superstars on a Saturday morning. I don't remember this, I was about three, but I've been told that that's when my fascination with professional wrestling began. Eventually, I started asking for wrestling figures for Christmas, suckered my parents into taking me and my brother to a house show when I was just four, and even got a subscription to WWF Magazine. Somehow, through our magazine subscription, we were able to get tickets to the 1995 Hall of Fame Ceremony. Back then, the Hall of Fame wasn't the big, Wrestlemania-weekend arena show that it is today. Rather, it was a reserved dinner ceremony, which showed off some wrestling memorabilia such as Andre the Giant's boots, Bob Orton's Cast, Classy Freddie Blassie's cane, etc. Most importantly for me, the wrestlers (semi-in character) were all there, and there was the chance to meet and mingle with them.

There are two stories that I can remember out of this night, both awesome in very different ways.

At some point during the night (AKA when he first walked into the room) I wanted to go meet Shawn Michaels. Now, Shawn was a pretty big deal with the women in 1995. So I, being a small five-year old, tried to make my way through the crowd of women, who are all much bigger than me, and probably just wanted to bang him. He somehow spotted me in this mob of people, and picked me up on his shoulder. He said something along the lines of "you're looking pretty dapper tonight." He also may or may not have hit on my mom. Either way, from my experience, I don't believe any of the "a$$hole Shawn Michaels" fan run-ins that I read on here. He was the man, and the coolest celebrity I've ever encountered.

Scott Hall, still in his Razor Ramon character, was in rare form that night. While most of the wrestlers dressed in suits, or at least fairly decent clothes, Razor was rocking taped ribs, no shirt, and a purple blazer. At one point, he stood up at his table and extended his arms out to the sides, in his signature pose. Except he had a wine bottle in each hand. At one point, he fell asleep at the table. Later we spotted him walking across the room, in a hurry. We tried to stop him for a picture and an autograph, but he brushed us off, saying "I can't, I'm in trouble with Vince." Classic Razor.

Poppin bottles in a purple blazer, no shirt and DDP ribs = the definition of

 

[ThatKidBlackHippy]

Another story about Taker
David:

I was a huge wrestling fan when I was a young kid. WWF and WCW were like a religion to me. I watched it as much as I could and my friends and I constantly reenacted what we saw. I stopped watching about the time I turned 14, but still knew who was around from the earlier days because of my friends.

I worked at a sporting goods store during high school and occasionally a professional athlete came in to get something, though no one really exciting. Until this day. I was in the team sports area (football, baseball, soccer, etc...) when an attractive blonde woman comes up and asks me if we carry wooden baseball bats. I say we do and lead her over to the rack. I immediately spin it around so the tee-ball bats are facing her, thinking it's for her son, when she stops me and says it's actually for her husband. I say something to the effect of, oh well he'd probably be better off picking out one for himself because of the length and weight. I asked her if he was around and she says that he's waiting in the car but she'll go get him and come back.

At this point I'm figuring he's some over the hill guy trying to relive his glory days in a wood bat league and that he'll just come in and grab whatever is the cheapest. A few minutes later I hear her say we're back can you still help us? I say sure and turn around and and staring a gigantic man straight in the chest. I'm 6'4, this dude is huge. I look up, and it's none other than The Undertaker. I'm immediately frozen. Like any kid growing up in the '90s, the 'Taker was one of my absolute favorites. I somehow mutter something to the effect of, the bats are over here, and start walking towards them. He laughs, and follows me to the rack. After getting over my initial starstruckness, I end up having a conversation with them both. We talked about how wrestling has changed, his injuries, stuff like that. They were incredibly nice and even asked if I wanted to "take a picture with Mark." I declined saying I'd probably get in trouble for it since I'm at work but thanked them anyways. He settles on a bat, a black Louisville Slugger (shocking right?), shakes my hand and says thanks for all the help. He starts to walk away but turns around, rolls his eyes in to the back of his head and says "Be sure to watch next week, you may see something you recognize" as he pats his hand on the bat a few times.

I didn't watch the following week and will never know if he actually used that bat, but I'd like to think I had a small hand in someone getting smashed in the face with it. Oh, and the best part, on his way out of the store I saw him stop and talk to my manager. A few minutes later my manager comes up and says that some "big tattooed guy" said how helpful I was and that I deserved a raise. Too bad that raise never happened. But I appreciated him going out of his way to do that.
That's our Taker

Taker is a cool dude for doing that.

 

[Gang$tarr]

Its Wednesday, latest edition is up...



Poppin bottles in a purple blazer, no shirt and DDP ribs = the definition of

Boss shyt........ i always imagined if i was a star wrestler, thats how id do

 

[Reality Check]

Some recent ones

Matt Hardy

I was a child of the Attitude era, when Austin ruled the world and all the kids wanted to be in D-Generation X. Another favorite tag team of mine was the Hardy Boyz. My brother was more partial to Jeff because of his high flying maneuvers but I was all about Matt.

Eight years later, I had moved to Durham, North Carolina, had a job at a game store inside a popular mall and had all but lost interest in pro wrestling. I was working my register through a slow weekday afternoon, and I turned my head to look out the store opening to the mall proper. Lo and behold, Matt Hardy himself is strolling past my store like any old joe. Nostalgia hit me like a wave, and thankfully I wasnt alone in the store that day. I overcame my inhibition quickly, though I had heard that Matt was not exactly the nicest guy. After hurriedly explaining to a co-worker who that was and why I had to leave, and followed him out directly.

I saw him turn into the Spencers store a few doors down, and had friends working that store as well. I figured I'd sidle up next to him and get a signature to wave in my brothers face, since I wasnt cool enough to have a functioning camera phone at this point. I observed Matt buying posters. I figured they were regular Spencers fare but I came to realize they were posters of ... himself. I stood there dumbfounded. Matt Hardy has to go out and buy posters of himself? Couldnt he just call someone up?

Nobody else had recognized him at this point, so I waited outside as my friend rung him up, looking from the poster to him with a confused look on her face. He smiled and nodded, offering to give her a signature if she wanted. He scribbled one on some receipt paper and left the store. As he left, I finally bucked up and said, "Excuse me! Mr. Hardy!" like I had every right to bug him. He knew that he had been caught off guard, so he turned obligingly. I had come prepared with my own reciept tape and pen. He scribbled his name and we talked for a few, about his roots in NC and some more fan gushing stuff. He was a really nice guy, despite my assumptions.

I later asked my friend if she knew who that was and said she had no clue. She thought he might have been some sort of poster model. Never did find out why he had to pay out of pocket for his own merch. Hope he made use out of them.

Hornswaggle

This story happened earlier this summer, at the Frying Pan in NYC. In case you've never been, the bar is actually an old shipping boat that is now forever docked on the west side of Manhattan. Mostly, it's filled with fratty types and the girls who love them. Anyway, this particular afternoon I found myself there celebrating a friend's birthday party. During this party, there happens to be a big ruckus happening on the other side of the boat. Lots of curses being yelled, garbage getting thrown around, chairs being knocked over, etc. When out of nowhere, we see the cause of this problem, as he's being led out the bar by the security guards. It's a very drunk midget (or little person, to be more PC). I'm laughing about this as it is, because hey, a drunk midget is getting thrown out of the bar! But my friend, who is a wrestling scholar, manages to top it - he realizes that the guy is actually Hornswoggle, WWE's favorite leprechaun!

Of course, we immediately hightail it over to the entrance, where we see Hornswoggle is still grabbing bottles and cups and throwing them around the bar, attempting to break free of the security guard's constraints whenever possible. He actually appears happy to be getting kicked out, like he's having the time of his life. Next to us, however, are a young couple who are cursing at him. Turns out, they were the ones who called security on him. Hornswoggle was throwing drinks around their table and apparently was rude and lewd to the girl, and their friends. My friend and I are just happily trading Hornswoggle jokes while being told the story by the couple, who couldn't care any less that the drunk dwarf was in town in order to appear on WWE. After the security got him out, we asked the guys if it really was Hornswoggle, which only one of them answered us that it was. The rest tried to pretend they didn't care, or didn't want to acknowledge the two dorks asking about the wrestling leprechaun.

Virgil

I went to a comic book convention in Chicago with my brothers and mom. As we are walking around the place we notice Virgil near the far wall in an autograph booth. Obviously, no one is in his line while those other semi-celebs around him have huge lines. We decide to go get his autograph, we start walking up and the first thing that comes out of his mouth is, "Hey sexy mama."

My brothers and I just stare at each other, but he doesn't stop. He proceeds to hit on our mother, not even bothering to acknowledge the three kids around her. This goes on for a solid three or four minutes, before we finally decide we don't want his autograph anymore and begin to walk away. Who knows what would've happened if we stuck around a few minutes longer. Could have definitely been calling Virgil "Pops."

Million Dollar Man

I got married three years ago. We met on an internet chat board dedicated to pro wrestling. Go on, make fun, but they're seriously the best group of friends I've ever had. At any rate, we were planning the event when we, on a whim, decided to find out what wrestlers were pastors now. This is a larger trend than you might think, especially with guys who survived the '80s and '90s. Anyhow, we come across one name in particular, and we both decide we HAVE to do it.

Ladies and (mostly) gentlemen...Ted DiBiase was the pastor at my wedding. Be jealous.

Mr. DiBiase was seriously one of the most down-to-earth people I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, and he rode with us place to place during the time he stayed in DC for this. This gave a lot of chances to shoot the breeze with one of the most famous, most traveled men in the industry, and he had some great road stories for us during the drives and the reception. He also insisted that we do counseling with him pre-wedding, so we spoke with him about life and love and lovemaking (which he referred to as "romp-and-stomping" in his thick Mississippi accent—hilarious, but a touch awkward, too).

Also, in relation to his old running buddy Virgil...Mr. DiBiase was apparently quite stunned to learn what Virgil says he's doing now. Direct quote: "So I ask Mike what he's doing these days, and he tells me he's teaching kids math and science. I say, 'I've shared a locker room with you, you ain't teachin' no kids no math and science!'"

 

[Heelish]

Nobody else had recognized him at this point, so I waited outside as my friend rung him up, looking from the poster to him with a confused look on her face. He smiled and nodded, offering to give her a signature if she wanted. He scribbled one on some receipt paper and left the store. As he left, I finally bucked up and said, "Excuse me! Mr. Hardy!" like I had every right to bug him. He knew that he had been caught off guard, so he turned obligingly. I had come prepared with my own reciept tape and pen. He scribbled his name and we talked for a few, about his roots in NC and some more fan gushing stuff. He was a really nice guy, despite my assumptions.

This loser Fatt actually went to buy a poster of himself just so he can say "yep... that's me " to the cashier?!?

 

[Reality Check]

This loser Fatt actually went to buy a poster of himself just so he can say "yep... that's me " to the cashier?!?

I added it to the L thread.

 

[dbp]

Before we could get to the Camry, a bald man with a ponytail runs up to us. He hands my mother a business card. When we got inside the car, my mother reads the card out loud and shows me the card. It read "Lonely? Mick" along with a phone number. My 12-year-old brain still did comprehend. That is when my mother spoke to me as an adult for the first time ever. She explained that Mick was looking to "go out on a date" with her. It didn't register until years later the Mick Foley wanted to bone my mom but what I still find eerie/humorous is that Mick signed the note to my mother with his trademark smiley face. He didn't even do that for my 8x10!!

Isn't he married? Thought Foley was one of the good guys

 

[Popi]

Back in 1992, I was going to college at Indiana State in Terre Haute. We were huge wrestling fans who loved to drink and watch the WWF. When it was announced that the WWF was coming to Terre Haute, we were all in. We waited at the Hulman Center box office the day of the sale and scored sweet fourth row tickets on the rail of the wrestlers entrance.

After the show was over, we stumbled back to our dorms and proceeded to continue drinking. We get a phone call from one of our buddies who couldn't make it to the show because he had to work. He worked as a busboy/bar back in the lounge at the Holiday Inn across town. He told us that there were some wrestling guys in there drinking and eating, so we should get down there. Away we went.

When we get down there, the bartender started feeding us beers since our buddy worked there even though we were clearly underage. Sitting in the lounge was none other than Gorilla Monsoon, Bobby the Brain Heenan, the Red Rooster Terry Taylor, and the Ultimate Warrior! At first we were to chicken to approach, but our courage got up after a couple of beers.

I walk up to the table and was star struck and drunk at the same time. All I could manage was a "You guys are great and the WWF rules!". They looked at me like I was crazy, but proceeded to ask me to sit down and have a beer with them! They could not have been any cooler, and my chicken shyt buddies were in awe that I was talking it up with these guys.

The line of the night was of course from Bobby the Brain. My buddy who worked there walked by to clean a table and mop the area by the lounge door. Heenan looks at him and says: "How did you get that job? Were you the first punk to show up with a mop and bucket so they gave you the job?" We were rolling and Gorilla Monsoon was getting on The Brain to "quit giving the kid a hard time." It was just like their act on TV. After about 15 minutes, they said they had to get going. All of them were really cool guys and the Warrior almost broke everybody's hand shaking them.

 

[Reality Check]

Virgilbag and Deadspin getting a shout out from WWE

[ame=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4iPYNG8ElyY&feature=player_detailpage&list=PL568681785BE0F3F8#t=266s]A Million reasons not to go swimming - "Are You Serious?" - Episode 36 - YouTube[/ame]

 

[Gang$tarr]

I always knew there would eventually come a time when I could begin submitting some of my favorite memories of the four years I spent working with the great Nikolai Volkoff as a Code Enforcement/Zoning inspector. That means that if you lived in Baltimore County between 2006-2011 and someone called in a complaint on your property (common issues would be not picking up after your dog, building a fence without a permit, or having large amounts of trash on your property, etc.) then you could have gotten a visit from Nikolai.

As I sit here and reflect, I almost wish there was one pinnacle moment that really captured his essence, or stuck out in some particular way, but the real thrill was just being friends with him, cracking up constantly, and getting a glimpse into his real personality.

First off, to this day whenever someone walks into the office and says "good morning," I immediately hear in Nik's accent, "What's so good about it?" No, he wasn't an unwavering pessimist. He just had a few catchphrases and jokes that he would repeat constantly as if they were always new. "Want to lose 10 pounds of ugly fat the easy way??? CHOP OFF YOUR HEAD." was another. And he called EVERYbody a schweinhund.

If you were to make a pie chart of Nikolai's interests, you would find slices for The Healing Power of Water, Conspiracy Theories (he loved to talk about the Rothschilds and Masonic references and all kinds of other crazy stuff), and How Other Wrestlers of His Era Blew Their Money. But the biggest one would be devoted to farts. He would rip them at will all day, usually with malicious intent as he backed into someone else's cubicle. (Keep in mind that we're talking about a large european man who bites into garlic and onions like they are apples and oranges.) To aid him in his constant assault on the rest of our nasal passages/ears/sense of well-being and comfort he also had a litany of fart-imitating devices. In his desk was a standard whoopee cushion, and then for the younger generation he had one of those electronic remote controlled fart machines. But by far the best (and most realistic sounding) was a device he made to replicate one he claims to have used all through grade school. I have duplicated this device and it is easily the best method for making people around you think you just ripped one:

You start with a thin piece of metal, it needs to be in the shape of a rectangle missing one of the long sides. I've used a piece of a coat hanger before because of its pliability but realistically you'd want something a little more sturdy. Either way, the U shape is key. I used brackets as both of the edges because you are going to need a little hook on the end to attach rubber bands. Then grab several rubber bands and a metal washer. Imagine that you are stringing a bow, but instead of connecting the rubber band at both ends, you connect each end to the washer. So when all is said and done, the washer is suspended in the middle, held by rubber bands on each side (it helps to double or even triple-up on the rubber bands on each side, using 6 rubber bands total)

If you did it right, you should be able to twist the washer around to build up tension so that when you let go the washer spins around like crazy. So what you want to do is, in the middle of a crowded classroom or office or quiet restaurant, or wherever, start twisting the washer around to build tension. Once she's nice and tight, you wanna stick the whole device under one cheek. Ideally you'd have the metal part somewhere near your crack and then the washer with all the tension just under the outer edge of your cheek. The whole thing should be hands-free at this point. HERE COMES THE BEST PART: when the time is right, you raise up your cheek as if you are lettin one out, and a soon as pressure comes off, the washer spins around like crazy and the sound of it smacking against the top of your chair makes a perfect fart (it will work better or worse depending on what kind of chair you're in).

To me, the electronic fart machines sound too fake. And a whoopee cushion is used best when you make someone else sit on it without realizing. But when it comes to convincing a bunch of people that you just cut one (maybe you wanna clear the couch before kickoff so you have prime access to the bean dip!) there really is nothing better. The sound is perfect and authentic, and the fact that you actually have to raise a cheek to make it work only multiplies the mystique of the whole thing.

I'm fully convinced that this fart-maker existed in ancient times, probably invented by an egyptian slave who faked gas and diarrhea to get out of building the pyramids. And I cannot wait to pass this on to my children. Thank you, Nikolai!

no woopie cushions in the soviet union.... u had to be creative