MY STORY: PART II
There would be absolutely no way for me to overstate how much I enjoyed my time with All Star Wrestling. I was nothing but a big mark who had been given the opportunity to play a bad guy manager and occasional colour commentator on the show that I grew up watching.
The show was clearly on its last legs, but it was still broadcast across Canada, and we still got fan mail from all over the country. There were a number of talented and dedicated wrestlers who gave it their all every show, regardless of how few or how many people were there to see them. There were young high flyers like I-Ton, Wolverine Eddie Watts, and The Frog, and there were three hundred pound guys like J.R. Bundy. There were foreign bad guys like Tiger Dory Singh, huge power merchants like Ole Olsen, mat wrestlers like Mike Roselli, and grizzled veterans like Verne Seibert, Rock Dellaserra, Dan Denton, Diamond Timothy Flowers, and too many others to name. Raven spent a little time in the territory, working as Scotty the Body. I hear that he’s got some pretty sarcastic and funny things to say about the promotion in his shoot interview, and I’m looking forward to borrowing that tape from my old friend Vicious Verne. Big John Tenta got his start in All Star, after leaving the world of sumo. Everyone was happy when he made the big time.
Almost all of the people I met ‘backstage’ were funny and interesting, and the fans were fantastic. I remember that at one of the TV tapings I was finally given the chance to interfere in a match. The fans were screaming and cursing at me. After the taping, as I was making my way to my car, a group of them approached me. I was seriously concerned for my own well-being. Much to my surprise, the same people who had been calling for my blood a half hour earlier were now smiling, shaking my hand, and letting me know what a good job they thought I’d done. A few of them even asked me for my autograph! They had books that were filled with signatures from all of the great stars who’d passed through the territories over the years. I was so honoured at being included in their company that I made the mistake of signing my own name. One of the fans took me aside and patiently explained that most of the wrestlers use their wrestling name when signing autographs. It’s probably fair to say that I was the biggest mark in the building that night.
I’ll tell you how much of a mark I was: Gorgeous Michelle Star used to tease me about working for Dave Meltzer, and I had NO IDEA what he was talking about. Those were the days when Kayfabe still reigned, and nobody was eager to clue me in. Just from being around the wrestlers, though, I gradually smartened up a little.
I also spent a fair chunk of time training to get in the ring. I was physically strong enough and my body was able to take the punishment, but it quickly became apparent that I was never going to be a good wrestler. I simply wasn’t agile or athletic enough to handle more than the most basic and simple of manoeuvres. I had trouble chaining moves together smoothly, never mind working the kind of match that could keep an audience entertained.
I wasn’t even a good heel. Once, at the Cloverdale Fairgrounds, a group of young punk rockers came out by the heel dressing room and asked to see me. The veteran bad guys advised me to go out there and treat the kids like crap and intimidate them a little, so that they’d get mad at me and we’d be able to draw more heat from the crowd later on. Instead, I ended up riding around on the kids’ skateboards and trading corny jokes with them.
Really, I was a terrible wrestler. About all I was good for was doing a few run-ins and taking the occasional bump.
I think that there are a couple of ways I could have reacted to this unpleasant revelation. I could have turned my back on wrestling and become bitter about the whole thing. I could have kept pushing myself and hoped that either nobody noticed my obvious shortcomings, or that they would just be too polite to kick me out of the ring. I could have beaten myself up mentally and emotionally for not being good enough to live the dream. I guess I could have blamed the infinitely more talented guys who were training with me, or claimed thst politics were holding me back. What actually happened, though, was that I became a bigger wrestling fan than I’d ever been before.
Putting together a compelling match is incredibly difficult. A good wrestler needs to be strong, tough, quick, and agile both physically and mentally. I have a pretty high IQ and I am able to think on my feet in most situations. Sitting at the announce table, calling the moves and coming up with off the cuff humorous remarks came to me as naturally as breathing. In the ring, though, with the lights shining, the crowd screaming, my adrenaline flowing, and some huge guy laying the chops in, I fell short. There are just so many things to think about, so many decisions that have to be made in a fraction of an instant, and so many distractions. Having trained as a wrestler, however unsuccessfully, has given me some understanding of the precise timing, extemporaneous creativity, trust, and teamwork that go into making even a halfway decent match. That, in turn, has given me enormous respect for the very few people who are able to do all of those things well.
In addition to making me a better fan, my time with All Star provided me with a lifetime’s worth of unique and special memories. I don’t want to bore you with a bunch of war stories – at least not in this column – but I would like to tell you about one of the coolest things that ever happened to me. In 1989, which was the final year that All Star Wrestling’s TV program would be produced, I went to a WWF show at the Pacific Coliseum in Vancouver. I was going to get some popcorn and drinks when the people around me started booing. I couldn’t figure out why, since the show hadn’t begun and there was nobody in the ring. On the way back to my seat, the same people started up again, and then some of the people from the other sections started joining in. I looked around, but I couldn’t see what they could possibly have been booing about, then I realised: They were booing me.
I still get a little chill thinking about it now. Up until then, it never occurred to me that so many people actually watched our show.
I can remember reading a quote from Jesse Ventura about Verne Gagne’s AWA being at about the third to last swirl before it finally went down the toilet completely, and thinking that his quote could have also been applied to our show. For me, All Star Wrestling was a glorified hobby that let me have a blast while being seen on national TV. I loved every minute of it, but I often used to wonder how the serious professionals, the guys who took it as more than a hobby, must have felt about it all.
I got my answer earlier this year, on the Wrestlecrap forums, where Big John Tenta posts pretty regularly. Here is what he had to say:
Gordi, All-Star was on its last legs but you must understand, All-Star is what made me want to become a wrestler. When I got to wrestle there, my father, and grandfather got to watch me participate in their favourite “sport”. My father never watched me play basketball, rugby, or football, and only watched a few amateur matches, but put me in Cloverdale on a Saturday night, he was front row! I’d be there today if they still had TV.
John Tenta is struggling with some very serious health problems. You can send him your best wishes, thank him for the memories, or ask him questions here.
