Terry Funk

Terry Funk with the NWA world heavyweight championship in the mid ‘70s. I have always been amazed at the Funker’s ability to reinvent himself for a new generation of wrestling fans; going from the clean-cut all-American babyface look to the grizzled gunslinger that he is today. Most wrestlers find their niche and stick with it for their entire career, but Terry Funk always managed to change with the times. How many modern fans even realize that he was the NWA world champion for two years back when it was the top title in all of professional wrestling? Happy 77th birthday, Terry!

Movie Review: Rambo III (1988)

DIRECTOR: Peter MacDonald. CAST: Sylvester Stallone, Richard Crenna, Kurtwood Smith, Marc de Jonge, Sasson Gabai, Doudi Shoua, Spiros Forcas, Randy Raney, Marcus Gilbert, Alon Abutbul, Mahmoud Assadollahi, Yosef Shiloah.

This third installment finds John Rambo at peace with himself, living in a Buddhist monastery and taking on locals in stick fights to pay bills. Colonel Trautman visits him and asks that he join in a CIA-sponsored mission to aid anti-Soviet freedom fighters in Afghanistan, but Rambo says no. His war is over…until Russian troops catch Trautman on the Afghan border and imprison him. Rambo comes out of retirement to rescue the colonel and show the mujahideen how to stomp out commie scum the American way. Rambo III was the most expensive action movie ever made at one point ($62 million) and the big budget certainly helps, as it is much more entertaining than First Blood Part II.

Movie Review: Rambo: First Blood Part II (1985)

DIRECTOR: George P. Cosmatos. CAST: Sylvester Stallone, Richard Crenna, Charles Napier, Steven Berkoff, Julia Nickson, Martin Kove, George Cheung, Voyo Goric. 

RAMBO: FIRST BLOOD PART II dispenses with its predecessor’s nihilistic statements about war veterans and mental health in favor of recreating John Rambo as a beloved Reagan-era shoot-‘em-up action hero. Rambo’s superior Colonel Trautman removes him from a labor camp to send him on a top-secret mission locating POWs still held captive in Vietnam. Corrupt government officials undermine his efforts, leaving him behind in his own personal hell. Rambo then embarks on his own mission to bring our boys home and kill every enemy in sight. Russian mercenaries are also involved in this insidious plot because it is 1985 and President Reagan would not be as big a fan of this movie without a Soviet bad guy. Good brainless fun, but there are other action movies from these years that do a more satisfying job with the one-man army concept.

Rock 'n' Wrestling: Barely Legal

I was paging through a random wrestling magazine at the store one day when I came across

Ian & Axl Rotten's bloody rivalry was my introduction
to ECW.

some photos depicting an unbelievably violent spectacle. These pictures defied everything I had previously seen in professional wrestling. Two bigger guys with a vaguely punk look appeared to be in a literal fight to the death! They were beating each other to the bloodiest of bloody pulps, going far beyond simply using folding chairs to inflict punishment. I saw broken glass and all sorts of foreign objects cluttering up the ring as these lunatics bashed themselves senseless with baseball bats wrapped in barbed wire and fell through ringside tables! Who in the blue hell were these guys? Why were they doing this? How could a wrestling company allow this to happen? What was becoming of the True Sport of Kings? Furthermore, how could I see more?

Their names were Axl & Ian Rotten. This was just another match in the feud taking place in

an East Coast indie promotion aptly named Extreme Championship Wrestling.

"These are human pit bulls!" 

ECW began seeing more exposure in the magazines throughout 1995 and ’96 with the strangest roster I had ever seen. Axl & Ian appeared to be the resident ersatz punks while

New Jack represented wrestling's gangsta
rap sect effectively.

New Jack was an angry-looking black dude believably representing the gangsta rap sect. Balls Mahoney looked just like the psychopath you never wanted to encounter at a metal show. I was particularly amused upon seeing photos of a supposed ‘wrestler’ who made his arrival while puffing on cigarettes and chugging down Budweisers—an out-of-shape Philadelphia redneck named the Sandman. Gorilla Monsoon probably would have suggested that none of these misfits knew a wrist lock from a wrist watch, but a deeper look into ECW showed a different side. Shane Douglas had gone nowhere as a goody-two-shoes babyface in the WWF and WCW, but reinvented himself in ECW. Now Douglas was the Franchise, a delusional foul-mouth spewing tirades against respected legends like Ric Flair while emulating him in the ring. Steve Austin stopped by for a coffee break and found the makings of the iconic “Stone Cold” persona that brought him fame & fortune in the WWF. Virtually all of WCW’s cruiserweight roster—Rey Mysterio, Dean Malenko, Eddy Guerrero, Chris Jericho, etc.—had wowed ECW audiences before ascending to the big time! This strange little promotion was right up my alley; it had the vibe of a regional underground music scene with amazing live bands that had yet to release their first records. You had to be there to see it and you were envious of the people who could talk about it firsthand.

ECW wasn't all blood & guts, as evident by this classic encounter

between Eddy Guerrero & Dean Malenko.

Business picked up when ECW wrestlers interrupted the opening match on the WWF’s Mind Games PPV in 1996, prompting announcer Jerry Lawler to call them out on Monday Night Raw. Lawler name checked former WCW manager Paul E. Dangerously as the promotion’s owner. That was interesting, but my jaw dropped when the King revealed the promoter’s real name—Paul Heyman. I hadn’t heard that name since the ‘80s when Heyman was the editor of Wrestling Power, a magazine I read as a kid! Wrestling Power ran the bloodiest photos of any publication around, so it made perfect sense that Heyman now ran the promotion primarily known for its blood & guts approach. Paul E. Dangerously was also one of my favorite wrestling managers when he was with WCW. I missed his presence and was happy to see him back in the fold.

Paul Heyman & Jerry Lawler in a verbal joust regarding ECW's
place in the wrestling industry on Monday Night Raw.

Paul E answered Lawler’s call and before long, ECW wrestlers were actually appearing on Monday Night Raw. Not only that, but they were wrestling in the WWF ring too! These occasions were building to a momentous occasion—these crazy SOBs had actually managed to get clearance for their first PPV event! This was huge news to those of us who lived outside of the northeast and didn’t get to watch ECW.  Barely Legal took place in April of 1997 just a couple weeks after my 19^th birthday. Seeing ECW for the first time was exciting after reading about it in the magazines for the past two years. Most of the matches weren’t nearly as violent as the

articles would have had you believe, but they cut a much more blistering pace than your average WCW main event. Wrestlers who hadn’t made their mark on the Big Two promotions were shining bright on this island of misfit toys. I recognized some faces and others just looked vaguely familiar. Terry Funk was even on hand to challenge Raven for the ECW world championship—did the 52-year-old legend and former NWA champion have one more world title win in him?

ECW also drew a raucous crowd who faithfully attended each show, usually sitting in the same seats every time. They were sarcastic assholes like us, demanding more from their wrestling—more violence, more bloodshed, and more death-defying moves performed at a faster pace. Lots of them subscribed to insider newsletters like the Wrestling Observer and traded videos, so they knew their stuff—they’d seen all the grapplers and high-fliers imported from Japan and Mexico long before they made their mark on American soil. ECW fans voiced their opinions loudly. They even laughingly jeered wrestlers for occasionally screwing up in the ring, chanting “YOU FUCKED UP!” at the top of their lungs. Imagine being the wrestler

Fans like "Faith No More Guy" and "Hat Guy" were longtime
Philadelphia wrestling attendees that were often caught on
camera at both WWF & WCW live events.

on the receiving end of that cascade! Although they came off as insensitive, bloodthirsty maniacs, many ECW showgoers were actually longtime Philadelphia wrestling attendees that WWF and WCW cameras often picked up at live events. Both of the Big Two promotions had engaged in a territorial war over Philadelphia since the ‘80s and they took those fans’ opinions seriously—whether they admitted it or not. These die-hard fans slowly influenced crowds all over the country to be more boisterous and interactive, compelling both the WWF and WCW to alter their approach to professional wrestling’s presentation.

TV ad for Barely Legal's video release.

Although ECW was certainly a different product, Barely Legal took me aback by how familiar it all seemed. I soon remembered watching wrestling as a little kid when the shows usually took place in a TV studio or smaller arenas, noting that this actually wasn’t much different from that old school approach. ECW was simply ‘70s and ‘80s studio wrestling filtered through a ‘90s grunge and gangsta rap perspective. Hit songs from the likes of WHITE ZOMBIE, METALLICA, the OFFSPRING, ALICE IN CHAINS, and DR. DRE all supplied ECW’s soundtrack and it worked like a charm—similar to when the WWF began raiding the pop charts during their (ahem) Rock ‘n’ Wrestling era. I wasn’t a fan of most of the bands they used, but I did appreciate that ECW at least attempted to reach fans like me. Much better than WCW’s horrible stock music covers of NIRVANA and PEARL JAM introducing the likes of Diamond Dallas Page and Chris Jericho!

ECW's use of contemporary music was never better than when

the Sandman made his entrance to (what else) "Enter Sandman."

Sometimes I watch an old ECW show and think about those days; it boggles my mind that this ragtag Philadelphia indie promotion took on a wrestling industry backed by billionaires and changed it for good with a motley crew of workers and 1500 angry fans. I didn’t care when WCW folded in 2001, but ECW going under left me with a feeling similar to that of when my favorite bands broke up or local music venues suddenly shut down. Many promotions since then have emulated ECW to varying extents, but none of them will ever come close to filling that void. That was a time and a place that I do not think today’s environment can (or should) duplicate.

Rock 'n' Wrestling: "I think this is FAKE!"

Short version: Professional wrestling was a legitimate contest from its 19^th century origins until roughly a hundred years ago. Nobody is sure when exactly it happened. Wrestlers and promoters alike agreed that more of an athletic exhibition with predetermined outcomes was a better idea than a ‘shoot’ that could last up to four ponderous hours. Everyone would benefit from the change. Wrestlers agreed to cooperate in the ring in the interest of making

Toots Mondt.

more money. Promoters raked in the bucks at the box office and on the sly from local gamblers who were none the wiser. Audiences enjoyed the more action-oriented approach pioneered by then-wrestler and future promoter Toots Mondt, who created a style incorporating traditional Greco-Roman and freestyle wrestling with various brawling techniques. Mondt’s “slam-bang Western-style wrestling” innovations would change everything, as it is what every wrestler we have loved and/or hated ever since has practiced in the ring.

Things were great until 1934 when one Jack Pfefer found himself on the wrong side of a business dispute between himself and his fellow wrestling promoters—a group that included Toots Mondt. Pfefer would get even by spilling the beans in an interview with the New York Daily Mirror. Fans had wondered about pro wrestling for a long time and now one of the top

Jack Pfefer: the ruiner.

matchmakers had confirmed that it was not a legitimate sporting contest at all! Wrestling’s popularity would then decline throughout the Great Depression, but the True Sport of Kings came back in the post-World War II era with the advent of television. Gorgeous George, Verne Gagne, and Buddy Rogers became some of the first TV celebrities in the 1950s as the industry itself gained a new lease on life. Televised wrestling would then settle comfortably into the realm of trashy American pulp entertainment that you all should know and love.

Sometimes some loudmouth know-it-all would bring up the fact that wrestling wasn’t “real,” but there was nothing phony about consistent television ratings and live attendance throughout much of the country. Plenty of fans simply enjoyed the entertainment and were unconcerned with how the illusion maintained itself. However, MANY fans still believed that the rivalries were the real deal; just ask the numerous

wrestlers attacked by rabid fans in arenas and parking lots throughout the years! Wrestlers were also encouraged by promoters to sustain believability in public, which could be problematic when confronted by outsiders questioning the integrity of their profession. I’ve read some cringe-worthy tales of life-altering injuries inflicted to keep kayfabe alive. Teeth were lost, bones were broken, and eyes were gouged out in many a bar or nightclub when drunken idiots picked REAL fights with FAKE ‘rasslers’! This was accepted behavior in the business for a long time—in many cases, losing the fight would also cost a wrestler his job. Similar things also happened to would-be grapplers and local tough guys looking to be on TV by getting in the ring. They usually quit after one training session with a seasoned pro who knew how to inflict serious damage and leave them with soiled trunks and a variety of injuries.

 Bob Roop dishes out a wrestling lesson to Florida Man.

Let’s flash forward to 1985 when American popular culture was embracing professional wrestling more than it had in a very long time. Cable television allowed regional promotions from Georgia and San Antonio to be viewed across our great nation while the WWF brought wrestling back to network TV after decades in syndication. Mainstream media outlets began paying more attention with a series of reports on pro wrestling’s increased popularity and its effects. Every single one of them made a point of mentioning that wrestling was not “real,” but “fake.” Not one ever bothered noting that this was no different from Saturday Night Live, The Cosby Show, or Miami Vice—after all, that would be building wrestling up rather than tearing it down like they wanted. However, one report tops the rest and I’m sure a lot of you know where this is going already.

 

My name is John Stossel and I HATE FUN.

20/20 investigative journalist John Stossel decided to take on the wrestling industry with a segment where he would expose the Real Truth to everyone—that professional wrestling was not a legitimate sport. Never mind that this had been public knowledge for fifty years. Stossel could have exposed the truth on 20/20 about promoters’ various business tactics that violated labor and antitrust laws, but that wasn’t as much fun as his crusade to simply make people feel stupid for watching wrestling. Wrestling was something that brought friends and families together—it was fun to watch and Stossel was going overboard. He was as condescending as can be in his report, speaking of his limited college wrestling credentials and referring to “rassling” in a white-trash accent. Stossel hammered home the word “fake,” making his point until it was taken and smashed into smithereens. He even had his own Jack Pfefer in Eddie Mansfield, a disgruntled grappler who hadn’t made it big in the

Eddie Mansfield blading for the camera.

regional territories. Not only was Mansfield willing to lead Stossel through the basic motions of a wrestling match on camera, but he also demonstrated the blading technique used to draw blood for effect!

Stossel took things to the next level by questioning individual wrestlers on camera about the legitimacy of their occupation, as if they would simply answer to his satisfaction. He even asked the Iron Sheik, who angrily challenged him to enter the ring and find out for himself. Stossel probably only saw him as a cartoonish fraud, but would not have lasted long against the Shah of Iran’s former bodyguard and onetime Olympian. He would then attempt a verbal joust against “Dr. D” David Schultz, a

Dr. D was Stone Cold before Steve Austin opened
his first can of Whoop-Ass.

nasty redneck heel from Tennessee who was essentially “Stone Cold” over a decade before Steve Austin opened his first can of Whoop-Ass™. Schultz was a product of the wrestling industry before its mainstream resurgence. His ornery onscreen persona was an amplified extension of his personality and publicly maintained at all times. Dr. D was simply doing his part by giving this scrawny reporter a hard time in describing professional wrestling as a business where only the toughest of the tough survive when Stossel decided to ask what he called “the standard question.” Actually, Stossel didn’t ask it at all. He made the standard statement: “I think this is FAKE!”

POW! Schultz slapped the ever-loving SHIT out of Stossel without any hesitation, knocking him to the floor! “That’s an open-hand slap!” said the good Doctor with an expert diagnosis.

“Did that feel ‘fake’?” Stossel slowly rose back to his feet in disbelief, only to be slapped right back down a second time before Dr. D ran him off under a hail of further verbal abuse. 20/20 anchor Barbara Walters was horrified at what Schultz had done to Stossel, who complained of lingering pain and buzzing in his ears weeks after it happened. Stossel would later sue the WWF for damages, settling out of court for $425,000. Schultz found himself in hot water with the New York State Athletic Commission, who suspended his license until he expressed his regret in an apology letter. However, Dr. D would soon be out of a job after a backstage altercation involving Mr. T. He would retire from wrestling after brief stints in

Dr. D: Bounty Hunter.

Memphis, Calgary, and Japan to become a bail bondsman and a professional bounty hunter working with the FBI, the DEA, and various police departments around the world. John Stossel would eventually express his own regret over the lawsuit, citing it as a frivolous example of America’s litigious society.

Dave Schultz may have gone too far, but people forget (or don’t know) that there are plenty of similar stories that make his reaction to Stossel look merciful in comparison!

Vince McMahon’s 1989 testimony before the New Jersey senate confirmed wrestling’s open secret, leading to increased exposure throughout the ‘90s. Insider newsletters like the Wrestling Observer went from being strictly underground publications to the leaders of wrestling journalism as more fans gained internet access. Wrestling evolved once again as people became completely aware that they were watching athletic entertainment designed to evoke desired responses. Fans extend more respect to the sacrifices involved in the physical theater. Interviews and podcasts discussing on-the-road stories and locker room politics are the norm now. Everybody knows what’s going on and no one seems to mind except for the occasional “ultimate fighting” fan blissfully unaware of modern MMA’s roots and inspiration. Although pro wrestling kayfabe is dead and buried, that might actually be a good thing because let’s be real—who in any occupation appreciates being called a phony…and who wants to lose an eye?