Rufus vs. Angus Part Three

It was truly a night of grudge battles, and Kansas City had never been any hotter than it was that night.

Fans saw Steve Bolus and Terry Martin defeat Black Jack Black and Frankie Diamond. They saw Omar Atlas beat his rival Benji Rameriz. They saw The Viking nearly upset The Big "O", Bob Orton Sr. The bell is the only thing that saved that match from career-ending injuries.

The second main event featured a North American Tag Team battle with Chatti Yokouchi and Yasu Fuji against former NWA Champ Pat O'Connor and Danny Littlebear. That two out of three fall event should have been enough for the night because of its controversial ending. Fans were ready to riot at that point because Fuji had taken an extra packet of ceremonial salt from his tights and threw it into the eyes of Pat O'Connor, blinding him and causing him to fall out onto the arena floor and be counted out. It was a smart move by the Oriental team to hang onto the coveted belts for yet another night.

Following the last intermission for the evening, the bell rang for the main event, and Rufus R. Jones was carried to the ring by fans who loved and adored him. I could never understand fans, let alone redneck fans from Missouri and Kansas that attended the matches every Thursday night at the Memorial Hall in Kansas City, Kansas.

Rufus didn't even take the time to sign autographs as he normally would for his fans. He just kept pacing back and forth in the ring and stopping every now and then to yell out to Promoter Gust Karras to get Angus and that "Little Weasel" out there so he could beat the living daylights out of them.

As our door opened, I saw more security than I had ever seen in that arena. There were nine uniformed officers and three plainclothesmen to get us to the ring. I always loved the extra security around us as it gave me a chance to entice fans to a boiling point faster than it normally took to do so.

I had changed out of my normal ring attire and put on wrestling gear as I knew this was going to be a tough night for me. My white wrestling boots had bright purple laces and topped off with the flaming orange socks that covered the long Kelly Green tights and the flowered trunks that topped them off. I also wore a pink sweatshirt that had printed on the back "I AM LOVED" in brown letters. The front had 3-23-1972 to remind fans of what day it was.

I had prided myself in trying to keep fans abreast of their surroundings and educate them to the point that they were smarter than our opponents. Most of the time.

Since this was a Texas Death match, falls counted either in the ring or on the arena floor. I had just made it through the ropes when Rufus charged me and began to beat the stuffings out of me. Angus seemed alarmed at what Rufus was doing to my body and charged Rufus from the blind side and, with a giant European forearm, he knocked Rufus over the top rope and onto the arena floor.

Ronnie Etchison began a 20-count, and I jumped into his face and let him know by no certain way would a countout be done in a Texas Death match. The count would only begin after a fall had been scored and, if the wrestler couldn't get to his feet after a 10-count, the match would end.

Angus had jumped out of the ring and was knocking the living bejesus out of Rufus when he turned to see Etchison grabbing me by the sweatshirt and starting to pummel me. He let loose of Rufus and started back into the ring, where he broke me loose from Etchison's grip. I informed Etchison, the referee, that he was about to become more of part of this match than he already was if he put his hands on me again.

It seemed like Etchison was not trying to be impartial in his handling of his state appointed duties. Rufus had come back into the ring, and Angus met him with a few more of those powerful forearm uppercuts to his massive chest. Covering him, we scored the first fall in the bout. A 30-second rest period followed with a very slow 10 count by referee Ronnie Etchison. I am sure that, if he did a regular 10-count, we would have won the match.

Fans standing on their feet were yelling at Rufus to get in gear. He took their advice and started to beat on Angus and, suddenly, out of the clear night, he head butted Angus and busted his forehead open. Angus dropped to the mat and was covered for a 1-2-3. It seemed like to me that 30 seconds between went awfully fast as Etchison began a fast-paced count to 10.

Fortunately for me, I carried a small bottle of smelling salts in my trunks for this match, and, when I waved it under his nose, Angus came up off the mat and was swinging wildly at anything that moved, including the referee and me.

The battle lasted for seven more falls, with each man scoring a decisive pinfall on the floor or in the ring. Each time that Angus went to the mat, I was quick to get the smelling salts out until the last fall, when Rufus grabbed the bottle from my hand and threw it to Gust Karras. I was hovered over Angus and slapped him in the face, only to find out that he was coming to on his own. He grabbed me by the sweatshirt and started to pull his mighty arms back as if to swing on me.

I yelled out, "Angus, look what they're doing to us, they are turning you against me." Angus released the grip he had on me and turned to Rufus, who was standing next to Etchison, laughing at the whole thing. He charged toward Rufus and was sidestepped into a waiting right fist from Ronnie Etchison that knocked Angus out of the ring and into the first row of fans.

Security rushed to surround Angus as he lay in a limp mess covered in his own blood. There was only a thick hemp rope between Angus and those angry fans. Rufus stepped through the ropes and placed one of his size 13 boots on the chest of Angus, and Etchison counted to three.

I tried to revive Angus but couldn't do so in the 30 seconds between falls. The bell rang, and Etchison started his count 1-2-3-4, and I was jerking at the strap on the top of the singletree that Angus wore. 5-6-7-8-9-10, and the final bell rang for the 10th time that night, and they declared Rufus the winner.

The fans again carried Rufus back to the dressing room on their shoulders, and Referee Ronnie Etchison was right behind them, seemingly gloating at being the guy that helped Rufus beat Angus, humiliating me.

Angus was loaded onto a stretcher and taken back to the dressing room, where medical technicians began to revive him. When he came to, Angus began to scream that he had been hit with Brass Knuckles as nobody could throw a punch like that and do the damage to his body that it did. They put 18 stitches in his head and sent him to the showers.

We left the building that night very disheartened about the decision that had been given to us, but, then again, it took two people to beat Angus. It was as if they took a page right out of my rulebook and a saying by Gorilla Monsoon "Win if you can, lose if you must … but always cheat."

Percival A. Friend, Retired
The Epitome of Wrestling Managers

2003 BWC Hall of Fame Inductee
2004 CAC Hall of Fame Inductee
2006 LWA Hall of Fame Inductee
2007 TCCW Hall of Fame Honoree