Weekly Gunslinger Rap

Jerry and Jack Brisco receive the highest award at Cauliflower Alley Club

So You Think You Are a Star (Eastern 315 Miami - Tampa 10:50pm)

The Florida Territory owned and operated by Eddie Graham: Miami Convention Hall, capacity 15,000 people ($120,000) sold out regularly when I appeared there during the years that I was champion '69 to 73.

Eddie built his territory around wrestling, Jack Brisco, and myself, the NWA world champion.

The cards were large for that time and there were lots of wrestlers in the dressing room. (Convention Hall was a nice facility) They all called me champ and patted me on the back and told me how good I was. Comradarie prevailed, I had a room full of friends.

By the time I got in the ring, everything imaginable had been done. Thanks so much to the "Booker," Louis Tillet. In order to draw the following week when the champion was off in another territory, There was blood all over the mat, The fans had seen an eight man tag, a Texas Death Match, a Brass Knucks Match, wrestlers running in the ring to save their friends, and various challenges to blow-off matches for the following week.

Now the Championship Match, All I had to give the people was some hard work and a strait match (against another plain human being, Jack Brisco) The interest was always there and the heat intense. We gave them something different, a wrestling match.

Now it is all over and I make my way to the dressing room and no one is there. Oh "crap," I forgot about Eastern flight 315, the 10:50pm flight back to Tampa.

It is quiet, after wrestling for an hour with no falls, I am dripping in perspiration. Off comes the shoes, socks, and tights. I throw them all in my bag and then the championship belt on top. The shower feels great.

I am bathed, shaved, and dressed. All my friends are gone and no-one is there to call me champ, pat me on the back and say how good I am. Comradarie is on Eastern Flight 315, the 10:50pm flight back to Tampa.

I open the dressing room door and step into the arena. It is midnight, dark, and nary a soul can be seen. Believe it or not, I am the world champ, the one they all came to see, and I can't find my way out of Convention Hall. I promise it is not an easy task.

Just two hours ago, I had so many friends and now they are gone. @&*$%Eastern Flight 315, the 10:50 flight back to Tampa.

I'll just get a taxi to the Airport Marina Hotel and sack out for the night. There is the exit but as I try it, the doors are all locked. There must be away to get out of Convention Hall. I circle the hall trying all doors. Finally one door opens. I'll walk to Collins Avenue and hale a cab.

As I exit the door, A few wrestling fans remain. They are gathered together in a small group. Naturally in Miami Beach Florida they are Jack Brisco fans. Jack is their hero, the number one challenger, they love this Indian from Blackwell Oklahoma, but I've still got the belt.

They through insults and profanities as I walk toward Collins Avenue. Nothing phases me, If anything I am enjoying their anger, I chuckle and smile and break into a laugh. If it weren't for these fans, who would Jack Brisco and I be here in Miami Beach tonight.

Now they are really mad. They are going to get my goat. They gather in a group and in unison they all say the ultimate insult to a Texan, they think, "The Dallas Cowboys Suck"

They thought that I would really become discombobulated!!!       (Upset!!)

Hey cabbie, take me to the Airport, "I'm here for the night. I missed Eastern 315 the 10:50pm flight back to Tampa."

As I climb into the back seat, the thought crosses my mind, "So you think you are a star!!!" ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As I write this Rap, Two Dallas Cowboys are facing assault charges.

It is a shame that such a great organization as the Dallas Cowboys and an athlete of the caliber of Michael Irvin cast such a shadow on their greatness.

Gunslinger

E-Mail

Return to Dory's home page

Gunslinger Short Stories

All pages and material Copyright © 1996 Dory Funk Jr. All Rights Reserved.