Forgiven: One Man's Journey from Self-Glorification to Sanctification (36 page)

On the road every week, for what seemed like hours, François would work on Mick — “Let me put this here — and this over here.” I used to just sit and watch in amazement. Then, after working himself into a sweat, François would collapse into a chair and say in his gay, French accent (make no mistake, François is not
gay
— he’s married to a beautiful model — but his accent
is
): “Vince, I don’t know what to do. His spleen is where his liver should be, his liver is somewhere up near his small intestine — he’s a freak, Mick is a freak!” And Mick Foley
was
a wonder of science. How he’s even able to walk today is beyond me.

I was backstage while François worked on Mick following his Hell in the Cell classic against the Undertaker, when Mick took those two horrific bumps. (A 15-foot drop from the top of the cell, through the announcers’ table to the floor, and a straight-back bump from the top of the cage all the way to the mat. . . . The second wasn’t supposed to happen that way. The top of the cage was supposed to collapse grad-ually, with Mick almost sliding down in an effort to break his fall. But as we all saw, the top of the cage collapsed with Mick hitting the mat with an impact only Wile E. Coyote could have survived.) When Mick came through that curtain following the match, everybody in the back gave him a standing ovation. That’s very rare in this business — I think I’ve seen it about three times. But stop and think about it: this guy nearly
killed
himself out there and the boys are giving him a standing ovation? Wow — talk about that in Abnormal Psychology class tomorrow.

As the Frenchman was working on Mick, Foley looked up at me 258

BCB7D610-957A-4FEF-BB89-D3E233FB808F

Forgiven

and with a smile on his face, asked, “How was it, Vince — was it better than Shawn’s bump?” Mick was referring to a match from a few months earlier, in which Shawn Michaels took the then-most-dangerous bump in the history of the wwf off the same steel cage. Man, all I could think was, “Mick, what are you talking about? You have two small children at home.” But Mick did what he did out of pure love for the sport. He thrived on hearing the crowd pop. To this day I can’t watch the wrestling documentary,
Beyond the Mat
. There, a handcuffed Mick takes chair-shot after chair-shot to the head with his young children watching in the front row.

Luckily, after that brutal match Mick found another way to entertain the fans without killing himself. It came in the form of a sock and it was
Raw
at its finest.

After winding up in the hospital courtesy of Stone Cold Steve Austin, Vince McMahon received a visit from Mankind, a.k.a. Mick Foley, who had stopped by to lift his “friend’s” spirits. Mick arrived at Vince’s hospital room with an armful of gifts. Mankind even went as far as to bring a clown along, Yurple, to help brighten the boss’s day.

The skit was the funniest thing I’d ever seen on television, two of the best playing off each other in their finest moment. But just when you thought it was over, from beneath the bed, Mick revealed Mr. Socko

— a sock puppet with a magic marker smile.

The next day when I went out into the arena prior to the show —

there were Mr. Socko banners and puppets
everywhere
. Mick Foley had a new career.

There are so many things I could tell you about Mick, from the birth of Dude Love to the brutality of “Cactus Jack,” but he’s already filled up two books talking about his experiences — and I pray to God he fills up a third. Mick was, simply, the best. I miss him dearly.

But there wouldn’t have been a Lewis, if there wasn’t a Martin.

Man, they tried — as a matter of fact they tried royally — but the creative brass just couldn’t screw up Dwayne Johnson’s career. In his first wwf match, he single-handedly went through all his team’s opponents to win his Survivor Series contest. Shortly thereafter, he “shocked” 259

BCB7D610-957A-4FEF-BB89-D3E233FB808F

Vince Russo

the world by becoming the wwf Intercontinental Champion. What you were experiencing was Pat Patterson’s favoritism toward Dwayne. Pat was high on him — so let’s just shove him down everybody’s throats.

Thank God, Dwayne got hurt and disappeared for a while. If he hadn’t, Vin Diesel might be the Scorpion King today.

Dwayne Johnson is your perfect example of why the old school rasslin’ “push theory” doesn’t mean beans in today’s world. In the past, promoters liked to claim that they “pushed” wrestlers they liked

— in other words,
they
were the ones who decided if they were going to be stars or not. You know, the God theory. Unfortunately, you can’t
push
anybody. When it comes down to the naked facts — you either have it or you don’t.

In the sports entertainment business, you just can’t make somebody a star. Regardless of what I think about her professional ability, even Britney Spears has some level of talent. Wrestlers in general are always talking about the “push” — getting a “push,” waiting for a

“push.” Man, that’s yesterday’s news. Only one person is going to make you a star in wrestling, and that’s you.

In writing television for both the wwf and wcw, my philosophy was simply to give everybody an opportunity. That’s all I could do.

From that point on, after I tuck the ball in their arms, it’s up to them.

You’re either going to put six on the board, or fumble on the goal line.

Dwayne Johnson is the perfect example. With the role he was given early on in his career, the “Blue Chipper” Rocky Maivia, he should have been long gone and buried in the swamplands of New Jersey. But no, the Rock was great — and no matter how hard you try, you can’t keep greatness down. Triple H’s story is similar, but you’ll read about that a little later on.

On the other side of that coin? If you’re not great, no matter what story is written for you, or what situation you’re put in, you’re just not going to make it. There were certain guys in the wwf that we tried to make stars, but it just didn’t happen. Because, in the end, they
weren’t
stars.

So yeah, they tried everything to screw up Dwayne — they labeled 260

BCB7D610-957A-4FEF-BB89-D3E233FB808F

Forgiven

him Rocky Maivia after his father and grandfather before him and put him in some Greco-Roman god-awful outfit. I still don’t get that

— was the guy supposed to be, Spartacus? It’s a wonder they didn’t give him a sword. When Dwayne was ready to come back to work following his injury, I was writing tv. At the time we were looking to do something —
anything
— with the Nation of Domination. The group had potential, but were missing something . . . like personality.

To give credit where credit is due, it was Bruce Prichard’s idea to put Rocky in the Nation. Granted, he didn’t know why — but he did suggest it. I took Bruce up on his idea and Rocky was in.

Again, there is always that moment. It happened with Austin, Sable, and dx, and it happened with Dwayne. At first, Ron Simmons, a.k.a.

Faarooq (that was another winner of a gimmick — remember that ridiculous blue helmet they put on him for his debut? Oh
that
was Spartacus — now I get it) was the leader of the Nation and Rocky always stood in the background. But without saying a word, the guy had an air of cockiness about him. You could just see it in his facial expressions, his eyes. Then one day, we told him to simply interrupt Ron while he was talking. Rocky did, and a loud “oooow” came from the crowd. At that moment, I knew we had something. Here was this arrogant, young, good-looking stud in the background — and you just knew he believed that he, and not Faarooq, should be the leader of the Nation.

The intensity grew. Then, on a day I remember as if it were yesterday, Rocky had to cut an important promo for the story line. For a while I had been thinking about Rocky using the moniker “the Rock,” but I had mixed feelings about it because one of my greatest wrestling heroes growing up was Don “the Rock” Muraco. Some of the best things ever done in the history of professional wrestling/sports entertainment were the vignettes, or “skits,” as they were probably called back then, by Mr. Fuji and Don Muraco in the early ’80s. “Fuji Vice” and “Fuji Bandito” were light years ahead of their time — and a total inspiration to me for years to come. After much contemplation prior to his promo, I took the Rock aside and said, “Rocky — start referring to yourself in the third person, start refering to yourself as the Rock.

261

BCB7D610-957A-4FEF-BB89-D3E233FB808F

Vince Russo

You know, the Rock said this, and the Rock said that.” Rocky took my advice — and did the promo.

Let me make something perfectly clear — I am
not
taking credit for the success of the Rock. Did I make that clear? I gave him the idea, and he went out and did it. It could have sucked or it could have made him a movie star. . . . Dwayne Johnson turned it into a million dollars. From that day forward he ate, drank and pooped the Rock. In front of that camera he became larger than life — and he worked at it every day. He came up with his own catch phrases, and I thought they were just brilliant. “Roody Poo Candy Ass.” How do you come up with that? Pure genius. Man, I became such a mark for the Rock

— I had tears in my eyes when he cut some of those promos. Again, look at the pattern here: everybody had a role, and everybody delivered. It was like writing for the cast of
Seinfeld
. If you put it down on paper, you just knew that they were going to blow it off the chart.

There is no bigger fan of the Rock on this planet — and there is no bigger fan of Dwayne Johnson — than me. You’ve got to know the two personalities to know how different they really are. I’ve said it a million times to anyone that will listen: there never has been, and there never will be, a bigger star in the world of sports entertainment than Dwayne Johnson. And I’ll tell you why. Yeah, he’s got the looks, the physique and the rap — but so did a lot of others before him.

What puts Rock heads and tails above the rest is his
brain
.

Highly educated, Rock is the most intelligent sports entertainer to ever play the game. And, the funny thing is he’ll never let you know it. You see, in this business there are great “workers.” I won’t mention any names, because I might get sued for defamation of character again, but these are guys that get by their whole career just bs-ing people, lying and stabbing others in the back for their own personal gains. Rock doesn’t work that way. He’ll just read you and know what you’re going to do or say before you ever do or say it. That’s the difference — you can’t bs the Rock. If you’re sincere, he knows it — if you’re not, he knows that, too.

Another thing Rock has going for him is that, unlike so many oth-262

BCB7D610-957A-4FEF-BB89-D3E233FB808F

Forgiven

ers in the business, he isn’t the least bit paranoid. That comes from being confident in his own abilities and knowing that there is no one else out there better than him, period. And that’s the truth — nobody else even comes close. Enjoy him now, because once his wwf contract is up, chances are you’ll never see him wrestle again. Rock is a bona fide movie star — and one of the few guys who no longer needs wrestling. Like Mick Foley, the Rock is just too talented to have to put his body on the line every night for a paycheck.

Whatever he chooses to do with his life, Rocky will write his own ticket and be successful. Oh, and there’s one other small detail —

there is no ego in the Rock. That must be hard to accept, considering who he is, but believe me when I tell you — from Spartacus to Scorpion King, he was the same guy.

Man, it would be a dream to work with the Rock again, only this time on a different canvas. Who knows? Maybe after I sell the movie rights to this book, the Rock will play himself for me.

• • •

I’ve got to set this scene for you: I’m working desperately on this book in my back office at my cd Warehouse. I’m literally writing paragraphs between customers. All I want to do is get this book done so that I move to the next point in my life. My top priority right now is to get out of Atlanta. I hate it here — can’t stand it — but the real reason I want to move back north is because my son Will just despises this place and I know it’s affecting him, mentally and emotionally. I feel responsible for him going through such a tough period. It’s my fault — I brought the family down here.

The whole place is whacked. I got a call from one of Will’s teachers about a year ago, telling me that Will didn’t have his shirt tucked in that day at school. I had to bite my tongue and just let it slide off my back.

I despise the fact that in this God-forsaken state they want all the kids to be cut from the same cloth — look the same, act the same — screw that! If I wanted my children to be robots, I’d have moved to Stepford.

Will’s biggest problem here in Atlanta is that he flat-out hates red-263

BCB7D610-957A-4FEF-BB89-D3E233FB808F

Vince Russo

necks. I’ve got to be honest with you, these people are a freaking joke.

They’re living in some world from 20 years ago. And they’re such simpletons. I swear to you, when I watched
Hee-Haw
as a kid — only for Barbi Benton — I never dreamed that there was such a place. It never even dawned on me. Now I’m living next door to Buck Owens and Roy Clark. And there aren’t any Daisy Dukes either — that whole thing is a myth. I haven’t seen a single one. Even though I wholeheartedly agree with Will, I’m the father, so I have to set an example.

So, I humor these people. They come in, they want to talk nascar —

I’ll talk nascar. They want to talk Georgia Bulldogs, I’ll talk Georgia Bulldogs. But keep in mind, all the while, inside I’m cracking up at these imbeciles. It’s called amusing yourself — something Will is just too young to get.

But anyway, now I’m at the point where these people know me —

they think I’m their friend, and they come in for three-hour clips!

Three freaking hours!
All I want to do is go in the back and write my book — please, getouttahere! Man, I’ve got this one guy who comes in that I’ve just labeled “the Talker.” He goes on forever — and every other sentence he says, “People say I like to talk.”
No !@#$, Sherlock!