November 3, 1972 Part Two

When I left you last, the six-man tag team match had gone to the ring to begin a war amongst themselves. None were strangers between the ropes, as they had all had some ferocious battles in the major cities of the Central States territory.

Juan Sebastian started for his team against Les Thornton. They seemed content with trying to outdo each other with wrestling knowledge from all parts of the globe. Thornton claimed to have gotten his in the streets of Manchester, England, where he was British Light-heavyweight Champion. A lot he learned from Angus, as they were once pals over there.

Juan Sebastian actually came into wrestling after being a Gaucho (Spanish Cowboy); he carried that image into the ring by wearing authentic clothes from Spain. He was trained by Brute Bernard and others in Montreal and then had a successful run in the Detroit area before moving to the Carolinas.

After about 10 minutes of exchanging holds and counter holds ... moves and counter moves, they both decided that neither one was the better man and tagged in partners. Omar Atlas and the Destroyer tried to go to the mat, and both scurried to get a better hold. Omar decided to take to the air and began a series of drop kicks and flying head scissors before tagging in Danny Littlebear.

Billy Howard, who had recently seen the light of day and changed his style, quickly tagged the Destroyer and proceeded to beat the living pulp out of the Oklahoma native. Not listening to the count that referee Frankie "the K.C. Wanderer" Diamond was giving to release a hold got the team their first fall disqualification handed to them.

In the second fall, Littlebear tagged in Les Thornton to face Billy Howard, and it proved too much for the good guy team, as Thornton was the victim of the Gilligan Twist, a spinning, twisting neck breaker and a pin fall.

Following a brief intermission, the bell for the main event rang. Roger Kirby followed me to the ring. It was billed a Texas Death match where falls did not count and no disqualification or time limit were involved. I had dressed for the match wearing a bright yellow sport coat with Kelly green slacks, a pink shirt and flowered tie. My red, white and blue Dingo boots rounded out the outfit, which was topped with an orange and white cap. The new style of cap was a look back at the 1930's style of cap worn by most men before hats took on a craze.

Black Angus was brought out to the ring by fans surrounding him like he had never had before. I had warned him that they would be a big influence on his every move, but he would not listen to me. It was just two weeks prior that we had broken business ties in Kansas City after an accidental blow to Angus on his forehead during a match. Many said I escaped by the skin of my teeth.

The bell had not even rang when I had Roger attack Angus while I was distracting dumb old rabbit ears Moody, the referee chosen for this battle. For almost a half hour, the two fought back and forth. Angus had been down for the 10 count six different times and the last barely getting to his feet on nine. Roger proved why he was the undefeated Junior Heavyweight Champion, as he was a much better man than Angus.

As the two locked up again, some kid hollered at Angus from the ringside to catch the object he had brought to the matches. It was a walking cane that most old people use to get around in their duties. The young man, by looking at him, suffered from a bad leg and needed the cane to get around.

Angus used the cane to open up the head of Kirby, and then, when he had him on the mat he turned towards me in the corner. I knew that Angus had vengeance on his mind, and I ducked when the cane hit the top rope. It sprung back at Angus and hit him right between the eyes. I watched as his eyes criss-crossed each other and slowly followed the huge Scot as he fell to the mat.

The referee had no alternative but to do a 10 count on him. I rushed the ring and began to boot the living heck out of Angus, who lay in a state of confusion on his back. Kirby had risen from the mats, and we both took our turn at kicking and stomping Angus until Gust Karras sent his goon squad to the ring to break it up.

He had 10 or 12 guys that were training to be wrestlers, and they did a good job of taking all the abuse the fans could give as they protected us from flying fists and kicking feet. The fan that gave Angus the cane tried to tell him that he was sorry, but Angus just pushed him off and sent him tumbling to the chairs. Ringside ushers returned the cane.

We were escorted again to our car by Sheriff deputies, who got their unit sprayed by rocks and spit on from very angry fans. So was another night of victory, in the world of professional wrestling, in the lovely city of St. Joseph, Missouri.

Percival A. Friend, Retired
The Epitome of Wrestling Managers
2004 CAC Honoree