The Road Warriors: Danger, Death, and the Rush of Wrestling (32 page)

Not to mention, we had the Warrior on our team. Jim was still the WWF World champion at the time and in the middle of the hottest run in his career. With Jim in the mix, we were guaranteed to win but not to score the pinfall of the match with the Doomsday Device. It was always understood from the get-go that it would be Hawk and Animal building up the heat of the match in order to give Warrior the hot tag to take it all home. Once he was tagged in, it was tackle, tackle, tackle, clothesline, clothesline, clothesline, splash, splash, splash, and the pin. Always.

When it all went down with Jim, you had to steer clear because he ran in like a hurricane, huffing and puffing and charging wildly. It’s funny how so many people used to complain about his “stiff” or “dangerous” style in the ring. Hawk and I would look at each other and shrug. That’s exactly what guys used to say about us!

I got to know Jim fairly well at that time. We weren’t the best of friends or anything, but he’d occasionally let me ride in his limo or we’d grab some dinner and a beer. I actually found him to be a pretty funny (and loud!) guy.

Sure, he was being chauffeured in a limousine and had his own Winnebago dressing room, but you know what? Neither Hawk nor I ever had a problem with Jim in or out of the ring. Any of the amenities he had were obviously spoils that went along with having the WWF Championship and his working agreement with Vince.

Within a few weeks on the road, I got used to the WWF routine, which was definitely different than other companies’ routines. Hawk and I were on what was referred to as the A team (no, not the Mr. T show from the ’80s), which was one of three teams of talent in the promotion. Back then, to cover different areas of the country at the same time, Vince divided the roster into three simultaneously traveling teams of talent.

The A and B teams featured a constantly shifting lineup of the very top drawing talent in the company, such as Hulk Hogan, Warrior, Rude, Jake, Hennig, and us. The rest of the guys, especially new talent that would be tested before audiences in smaller market towns, were placed on the C team. We were all dispatched into different travel schedules. About once or twice a week, all three teams would reunite for TV tapings, where we’d be sequestered at the arena all day.

I’m telling you, man, it was totally brutal. We’d have back-to-back tapings, and whether we wrestled once or three times during the course of the day, everyone had to stay put. Between the flying, driving, working out, wrestling, and all-out waiting around in our travel schedule, I was always beat. I’d be hunched over catching a few Zs wherever and whenever I could at those venues.

Hawk and some of the others would just say, “Fuck it,” and snort lines of coke to stay up all day and night long, a habit of his I was completely sick and tired of. I was letting it slide for the time being, keeping my mouth shut and hoping for the best. But Hawk was like a brother to me, and I didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. It wouldn’t be too much longer before I’d officially address it.

While we were burning down the house all over the country with Warrior against Demolition, we rolled into Toledo, Ohio, on September 18 for TV tapings, including our first edition of
Saturday Night’s Main Event
, to air on October 13. True to our current road tour, it was another six-man match against Ax, Smash, and Crush, and it was the first time a national audience got a chance to see the LOD and the Ultimate Warrior team together. Demolition claimed they were going to expose us for the phonies we were, and even their manager Mr. Fuji was wearing face paint, looking like the fourth member of the team.

In short, the six of us delivered a bombastic performance and gave the fans at the Sports Arena an unforgettable time. That night also marked the return of Hulk Hogan, who had taken some time off before Hawk and I came into the WWF. I have to admit, I was a little curious to get to know Hogan on some level.

For the last three or four years, our names were always included along with his in the magazines among the biggest stars in wrestling. But you know what? Hogan was the biggest star in wrestling and was the undeniable centerpiece of the WWF boom in the ’80s. One of the greatest compliments Jimmy Hart used to give us back then was “Man, you two are the Hulk Hogan of tag teams.”

I guess I wondered if Hogan was down-to-earth or some egomaniac. When I eventually got to find out, I was pleasantly surprised to see how cool he was. But you’re going to have to wait for that one, just like I did. In the meantime, after the Toledo tapings were over, we took off with Warrior and Demolition to resume our cross-country feud. It all culminated on Thanksgiving Day in Hartford.

Survivor Series had become the WWF’s Thanksgiving tradition after being introduced as the company solution to the NWA/ Crockett Promotions annual Starrcade extravaganza. On November 22 at the Hartford Civic Center, Hawk and I teamed with Warrior and “The Texas Tornado” Kerry Von Erich as The Warriors (Kerry actually used to be known as The Modern Day Warrior during his earlier career in World Class Championship Wrestling) against The Perfect Team of Mr. Perfect and Demolition.

A Survivor Series match was a four-on-four, single elimination match until there was only one team member left. Of course, our team won with Warrior getting the pin, but what I remember most about that night was the debut of one of my fellow WCW defectors, Mark Calaway, the former “Mean” Mark Callous of The Skyscrapers. When he came over to the WWF, the creative team came up with a gimmick that would make Mark a huge star: the Undertaker (’Taker for short), or “Kane the Undertaker” as he was first called.

’Taker’s first appearance made a big impression on the live audience and an even bigger one on the boys watching the locker room monitors. I loved it. ’Taker played the slow, ominous moves of a reanimated dead man perfectly. He was invincible, emotionless, and didn’t say a word. And when he picked up Koko B. Ware for his very first tombstone piledriver, everyone knew the Undertaker was going places.

I also remember it was great to team with Kerry Von Erich at Survivor Series. I had known Kerry for years ever since Hawk and I saw him wrestle Flair at one of Bill Watts’ Superdome Extravaganza shows in the spring of ’85. Kerry was a huge star even then and, aside from having Hollywood good looks and a great physique, was a former NWA World Heavyweight champion after beating Flair in Texas Stadium in ’84.

I remember one night when Kerry was really messed up on something (or everything) and gave a memorable performance if ever there was one. Ric whipped Kerry into the ropes to set up a back drop/sunset flip combo, but when Kerry came running back off the ropes he completely missed the mark and didn’t even realize it. I mean, you had to see Kerry do the front flip somersault about a foot to the right of Flair instead of directly over him.

I leaned over to Hawk. “Did he really just do that?”

The bottom line was that Kerry was a down-to-earth Texan who was a lot of fun to hang out with. Occasionally I’d ride and room with him on the road. It was during one of those trips that I was let in on a little secret. Back in ’86, Kerry had a bad motorcycle accident and severely injured his right leg, eventually resulting in the amputation of most of his right foot.

When we started to room together, I guess he got comfortable enough to reveal the prosthetic foot he used to wear inside of his boots. To watch him walk, let alone wrestle, you’d never have known at all. Kerry kept his foot covered up in the locker room all the time, even though I think most of the boys already knew.

Around this time I suffered a great personal tragedy. My mom, Lorna Laurinaitis, passed away on December 6, 1990. For the previous year or so, Mom and Dad had been living in Tampa to help relieve the symptoms of my mother’s lupus. I was devastated to think I’d never see Mom’s glowing smile or hear her infectious laugh again. Vince gave me a few days off so I could try to pick up the pieces and make sense of it all. Years later, I’m still trying.

15

THE LEGION OF DOOM DOMINATES THE WWF

The conclusion of Survivor Series marked the end of our feud against Demolition alongside the Ultimate Warrior. Demolition was pretty much dismantled and shelved by the late winter of 1991. I guess after the genuine article came into the company, Vince and the writing team lost interest. After floundering around the Federation without any real purpose for the better part of six months, Bill (Ax) outright left the company, Barry (Smash) was repackaged into a new gimmick known as the Repo Man, and Crush was moved into a singles career.

It was also around this time that I finally realized Hawk was losing control of himself. For about seven or eight months after joining the WWF, a noticeable divide had started to form between Hawk and me in our ways of life. It was simple when I looked at it. While I had some grounding, because Julie and the kids depended on me, Hawk didn’t. He was unleashed and free flying in an environment where it was easy to find like-minded individuals and keep the party going all the time. It’s not like I was an angel or anything myself, but the many years of Hawk’s excessive use of cocaine, muscle relaxers, and painkillers had started to take their toll on my partner’s reliability.

It got to the point that some of the boys would come up to me before the show and ask, “How’s your partner tonight? Is he all fucked up? Will he be on time?”

I’d always cover for Hawk when I could, but the truth of the matter was that management knew exactly what was going on. Once in a while, the WWF would conduct random drug testing and Hawk would get nabbed. For the most part, they’d turn the other cheek and let him off the hook with a warning or a fine, but I wondered for how long.

The thing about Hawk was that he was easily influenced if he had people in his ear, which he did. Jake Roberts was the worst, and none of the guys Hawk gravitated toward had each other’s best interests at heart.

Any random night that I’d stop by Hawk’s hotel room, there’d be any number of people cheering him on. “Holy shit, Hawk,” I’d hear, “I’ve never seen anybody do that many lines in a row.” Then someone else would chime in. “I can’t believe how much you can drink, Hawk.” Those were the worst kinds of things you could say to someone like him. It only served to fuel Hawk’s fire, and in the professional wrestling business, the devil’s playground is always right around the corner if you’re looking for it.

On any random night as I’d be lying down to sleep at 2:30 a.m., which was bad enough, I’d look out of my hotel window and see Hawk and Beefcake getting a cab to find the next bar. I’d shake my head and hope he’d show up on time the next day, and if he didn’t, guess who was always left alone holding the bag when Vince would come walking around?

“Animal, where’s Hawk?”

“He’s okay, Vince. Just running a little late; that’s all.”

It got old really quickly. Jake Roberts used to see me from across the locker room having those moments with Vince and tried to claim to Hawk that I was ratting him out.

At one point in the early Georgia days Jake was a good friend of mine. We’d even shared an apartment for a time. But now he was the one scumbag trying to corrupt my relationship with Hawk.

I’d try to reason with Hawk all the time. “Man, I’m your real friend. I’ve been through it all with you, and I’m not going anywhere. Where will guys like Jake or these other jokers be next year? Or even next month?”

It all fell on deaf ears.

And you know what? It wasn’t only when he was on the road with Jake and the rest of his crew that all the craziness went down. One time when we had a few days off, Hawk went up to a small cabin he had up at Leech Lake in northern Minnesota. He was up there with a buddy of his, and the two of them decided to take Hawk’s little fishing boat out on the water for a late-night ride. Now keep in mind, it was the middle of the winter, so Hawk was dressed up in a big, heavy goose down parka along with his usual bandana, jeans, and cowboy boots. Did I mention that Hawk was also out of his mind on Somas (muscle relaxers)? Well, he was.

I guess they went about 100 yards out when Hawk fell backward into the lake and completely disappeared. Hawk’s friend Matty ran over and started yelling for him, using a spotlight to look on all sides of the boat and out in the water. He saw a huge pocket of air bubbles coming from the area Hawk had fallen into and put the light under the water.

After waiting and staring down at the water for about a solid minute, Hawk suddenly popped up in a big rush. He was gasping for air and swinging his arms and then went back under. He later told me that he went up and down like that about five times before Matty could help pull him over the side of the boat.

“I sank all the way to the fucking bottom, man,” Hawk told me. “My coat filled up with water and dragged me down. I couldn’t see a fucking thing except that light Matty was shining. I don’t even know how I made it back.”

But that was Hawk, facing death and seeing his life constantly flashing before his very eyes. Whether he was tearing ass on a motorcycle throughout a graveyard in Japan or rolling his Cadillac off the side of a mountain road in Minnesota to avoid a logging truck, Hawk was pushing impossible limits. Somehow he always managed to come out on the other side okay, but for me, stories like that had lost their humor.

I looked at Hawk’s escapades and felt increasingly disrespected that he’d take risks that could affect our livelihood. My livelihood. It was great if Hawk didn’t want to grow up and follow the rules, but all that I asked of him was to consider where I was coming from. I wanted to do what we always did, and that was have fun and do good business. That’s what wrestling’s all about.

All bullshit aside, Hawk and I knew we were still getting warmed up in the WWF and had a lot of big accomplishments lined up to look forward to. Although I kept my eye on him as much as possible and helped steer us back on track from time to time, I left Hawk to live the way he saw fit with no barking from me. I hoped he’d make the right decisions for himself, our employer, and me. In the meantime, I made steady road companions with Davey Boy Smith and Warlord, with whom I shared similar eating and workout habits.