"GOD DAMN, SHIT, SON OF A BITCH, OUCH, DIRTY BASTARD, OUCH, OH SHIT, HELP, SHIT SON OF A BITCH." It was early in the morning and my father was cussing a blue streak. I looked to the other side of our bedroom and Terry was still in bed, so I knew he wasn't cussing at Terry.
Dad could cuss like a sailor, of course, he was a sailor on combat duty in World War II in the South Pacific. When he was really serious about talking to us though, we could always tell because that was when he spoke in a low voice in words that made sense.
I jumped up and ran outside to see what the problem was and saw my father tearing at his shoe laces. They finally broke and he tore his tennis shoe off. He had put them on this morning without socks and in a hurry to get outside to work on the pool in the back yard, he had tied his shoes in knots. A scorpion had crawled into his shoes during the night and was stinging him on the foot and he couldn't get the shoes off.
It was a beautiful day on the Flying Mare Ranch 30 miles southwest of Amarillo, Texas. At least a beautiful day for West Texas, Thirty mile an hour winds with a little dust in the air to give a hazy look to the sky.
At breakfast we had mother's specialty, German Pancakes, soaked in butter, not too healthy by today's standards, but tasty and all we could eat.
We had some fences that needed repairing on the south side of the Flying Mare Ranch. It wasn't far from the house so dad and I walked the distance to the downed fence in our ranch gear, cut off levis and boots, no shirt. (We never drove on the native Buffalo Grass as it was environmentally sensitive to modern technology)
On the return home we were discussing the wrestling business. I told him, "Dad, I have had a good career in amateur wrestling and football. (We had just completed our season at West Texas State University with a victory in the Sun Bowl over Ohio University.) I am a good athlete and think I will do well in Professional Wrestling." He stopped, looked at me and in that serious low voice said, "Son you are about to enter the most competitive business in the world. If you spend four years in the wrestling business, you might just begin to learn a little bit about it."
And I am still learning as I take the "step beyond" into the World Wrestling Federation.
"The territory is the World"
"We are sports entertainment"
"Buried Alive Match"
"Super Bowl Commercials at a million and a quarter for thirty seconds"
"My boss is on Money Line"
"Embalm Stone Cold Steve Austin"
"My brother rolls of the stage in a dumpster"
"A corvette full of concrete"
"Always bigger, better, grander, more spectacular"
As Dad and I walked along the terrace on the Flying Mare Ranch that emptied the rainfall runoff into his small pond I saw a coiled up rattlesnake directly in Dad's path. I yelled, "Rattlesnake." Dad jumped, straight up in the air. I had only yelled, "Rattlesnake," and he had no idea where the snake was. Dad was lucky that day and the snake didn't strike. We laughed many times about that old rattlesnake. He said, "Son when you yell rattlesnake, you have got to tell me where to go, I can't just jump. I've got to know where to jump."
We now have twenty five wrestlers who have passed through the WWF Funking Dojo on the regular WWF Roster. They are all athletes and can mix it up with the best in Sports Entertainment. The World Wrestling Federation. (Telling stories with the best athletes in the world)
Don't just jump, know where you
Coach of the WWF Funking Dojo
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