Welcome to the Terry Taylor Perspective for 7/25/02

Lately a lot of people have asked me what it was like to be a wrestler in “the old days.” I’ve thought a lot about that question and I smile when I think about how lucky I’ve been to be in the wrestling business. I’m one of the few wrestlers who can say they wrestled every major superstar spanning two periods including Rey Mysterio Jr, Killer Karl Kox, Stunning Steve Austin (later: Stone Cold), Dick Murdock, Kurt Angle, Kimala, Mr. Wrestling II, the Undertaker, Hulk Hogan, and Ric Flair.

This week I’m going to do what the young guys hate from the older veterans – tell an old war story. One time Blackjack Mulligan told me under his breath, “If I start to change the ending of the story – cut me off!” That’s so much like the wrestlers. The longer we’re in the business, the better we WERE. That’s because there’s no one left to dispute our claims!

I’m going to tell you about the first match I ever had with Ric Flair. It was in 1986 in New Orleans, Louisiana for the NWA world heavyweight championship. We were the main event to be followed by a gimmick match with Sgt. Terry Daniels and Sgt Slaughter vs. either the Midnight Express or Sheepherders (Bush Whackers). I was so excited to get to wrestle my hero Ric Flair.

I was attending college in the Carolinas in the mid seventies at the same time Ric was starting to achieve stardom. He was incredible and I spent all my extra money going to the Greensboro Coliseum every month to watch the major cards of Mid Atlantic Championship Wrestling.

Getting back to my first match with Ric, I wanted to make a good impression, so I got to the Louisiana Superdome 2 hours early. I was eager to talk to Ric about what we were going to do. I wanted to give the fans AND Ric a great match. The one thing about Ric – one didn’t give him the great match – HE gave the great match. Ric was so awesome in the eighties. There wasn’t a wrestler even close to having as complete a package – athleticism, speed, look, charisma, and ring psychology. Ric had it all.

At the time I didn’t know Ric or his wild reputation and since that time, we’ve become dear friends and I love him like a brother.

So here I am at the Superdome, preparing for the biggest match of my life and in my head going over and over what I was going to say to Ric. That speech should have been perfect because instead of getting to the dome at 1:00 PM like the rest of us, Ric staggered in at 6:00. I never saw him because he had his own locker room and the door was closed and locked. I knocked once – no answer so I waited a half hour and knocked again. No answer. It’s 6:30 and we haven’t talked about anything. I was used to just going to the ring without talking to my opponent because in the past we had separate locker rooms. Usually there was no way to get to each other, but this was different. I wanted to make sure I knew what we were going to do, how long we were to be out there, and what the end of the match was.

After 2 hours of this, I couldn’t wait any longer. I got an employee of the Dome to open the door to Ric’s locker room. I can’t express the surprise, horror, and helpless feeling which over came me when that door opened. Ric was ASLEEP! He was asleep 30 minutes prior to the biggest match of my life and I was so nervous I could’ve threaded a sewing machine – WITH IT RUNNING! (foot note: that was an Arn Anderson-ism). How could Ric be asleep? There were 26,000 people screaming, cheering, and roaring during his little power nap. What was the matter with him? Was he sick? Would he be able to perform? I thought oh no, my big chance to move up to the upper level of the business would never happen. Why is this happening to me?

Ric woke up and groggily asked me what time it was. I told him we were up in 25 minutes and he casually said, “I better get ready.” Oh, you’re right about that, pal. I was horrified and upset that this match meant so little to him. His cavalier attitude pushed me over the edge; I had to ask, “What the hell is wrong with you?” That was pretty ballsy for me considering I revered Ric as almost a god.

Ric said, “I came straight here from Bourbon Street and hadn’t slept. I thought an hour nap would help.”

So my hero thought so much about this main event, he stayed up drinking all night, partied all day, and came in hung over. Great, I knew right then this match was going to be a full four-finger stinker and there went my one opportunity to wrestle Ric Flair in a main event. Like it mattered, I asked Ric what the end of the match was and how long did he think we might go? He said he hadn’t talked to the promoter and would find out. Well, he may have found out, but I didn’t.

I was panic-stricken! I didn’t know the ending of the match or how long we were going to go. I assumed with Ric being barely able to lace his boots we’d go 12 minutes and I’d give up to the figure four. (which I’d be honored to do – if I’d have known that was the plan). I was freaking out! My music’s playing and the officials are screaming at me to go to the ring. I was looking for Ric and didn’t find him. I went to the ring in character and tried not to show my nervousness. I waited for Space Odyssey 2000 to play so I could see Ric drag himself out to the ring.

The music played and 26,000 people roared in unison not knowing what I knew and how bad Ric would look. A second roar much loader than the first rose from the masses. I turned to look and almost fell down right there. Ric Flair came through the curtain looking like a million dollars – just like he always did. I was floored! How could he change that completely – that quickly?

In an effort to keep this novel under 300 pages, I’ll move forward.

At the 40-minute mark, one of us was breathing so heavily he couldn’t hear anything else. It was me wheezing and between breaths asking, no – begging Ric to pin me! I still didn’t know the finish, but was willing to pull him on top of me and not let go. That’s right, I was so tired I was willing to lose by pulling my opponent on top of me and hanging on until the referee HAD to count three! I had to do something soon as I was fast approaching a near death experience and didn’t want it to go past the “near” part.

I’ll never forget what Ric said to me then, “OK Big Daddy, here’s where you earn your pay.”

I thought, “Thank you, God!” he’s going to beat me and it’ll be over soon.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

We kicked it into high gear for the next 8 minutes. I now understand when people talk about the mother who gets superhuman strength, enough to lift a car off her baby. We did suplexes, double bridges, a thousand chops, 20 near falls, and thankfully Ric pulled my tights on a double roll up. 1,2,3 the bell rang to end the match and it was the sweetest sound I had ever heard. Most good guys hate losing because they begin to believe their press and love the attention. In this case, I was never so happy to lose a match. Even a match of this magnitude!

At the time I didn’t have any idea what Ric had done for me. You see, Ric spent 48 minutes of his life making everyone in the Superdome believe that this was my night, that some how the hometown boy could make his dream come true, that the underdog could stand up and win.

He did that without killing me off when I didn’t win. The fans love a winner, but lose faith quickly in a hero who can’t win “the big match” in the clutch. Over the years, I have had literally thousands of people tell me that as the best match they’d ever seen. At the time, I couldn’t say Ric lead me through it and I owe it all to Ric. I could only smile and say “Thank you.”

Well, not much has changed because whenever it comes up I still smile and say, “Thank you” – but this time it’s to Ric Flair the greatest wrestler I ever had the privilege to wrestle.

Thank you, Ric for giving me the match and memory of a lifetime.

Until next week,
Terry Taylor