“He called my old lady ‘Four Eyes!’ I’m gonna kill ‘em!”
That was the conversation being held out back of the fairground’s Exposition Hall after a rowdy fan was confronted by his attorney-and-ticket-outlet-for-wrestling in the small town. One of our security guards noticed the fan was angry and stormed outside and thought he heard him mutter a threat about stabbing one of the wrestlers.
Dregen, was a mid-card heel with a good look. He was also one of the nicest guys in the locker room. And yes, he did call an old lady “four eyes,” which is a pretty mild taunt at an Indy show. But it really fired the old hillbilly up.
He actually had gone to his truck to get his pocket knife and he was now waiting out
back for Dregen to exit the building so he could stab him. We alerted the attorney, who had defended the client and his whole family in court on multiple occasions, and he came out back to help.
When he got there, our head of security were trying to reason with him. Big Jimm, the security guard, had a good rapport with the regular fans; after all, he was at ringside the entire night and interacted with many of the same people month after month. “But he can’t talk to her like that!” the fan kept insisting.
It was events like this that caused me to seek a new “tool” of my own. I had begun to carrying a small stun gun in my pocket when I was appearing as a heel manager in Kentucky. There was little to no security and just a thin rope that separated me from the true believers; people who really thought I was out to hurt their beloved baby face. So, for my own protection I just had this extra tool in my pocket. I never had to use it.
I had it with me at another show where I was the babyface “company official” and Dregen dared me to shock him with it. I did and he no-sold it. So, later when he wasn’t looking I walked up behind him and caught him on the meaty part of his thigh. He yelped and we all had a good laugh. And then, later on I was clicking it in my pocket and accidentally stunned myself. That was funnier to everyone but me.
I didn’t have my “tool” with me to loan anyone on this night, though.
Instead, the lawyer and security were still trying to reason with the fan. Finally, he agreed that if Dregen would walk out and apologize to “his old lady” he would promise not to stab him and he would go home.
In wrestling, where everything is a work and you don’t know what’s real and what’s not, this was still a scary proposition.
But Dregen, the nice guy that he is, agreed to apologize. He did so from a fairly safe distance and stayed far back enough that a handshake would have been awkward. All ended well that night.