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Authors: Bruce Hart
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have turned off wrestling. It’s also one of the main reasons why so few of today’s up-and-coming workers have actually learned how to work. If it were up to me, I’d get rid of most of the scripting and spend more time teaching the wrestlers the basic precepts of working — selling, coming back, relating to the fans, making them relate to you and things like that — then let the pieces fall in place from there. If they were to go that route, I have no doubts that the business would be a hell of a lot better — though who am I to cast aspersions upon the gods?
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Heading into summer 1973, I was having a blast; but in the immortal words of Ed Whalen, there was a “malfunction at the junction.” We had this spot show, near Medicine Hat, which was nearly 200 miles east of Calgary and during my match, my opponent and I got our signals crossed. I ended up taking a bad bump and really messed up my shoulder. My arm dangled limp, my collarbone protruded through the skin — it was painful as hell.
Seeing as there was no hospital in the town, I had to drive back to Calgary with my arm in a sling. About halfway home, I blew the engine in my car and had to hitchhike. A couple of guys pulled over and offered me a ride —
which was nice of them, but it turned out they’d been drinking. They ended up skidding off the road on a curve and nearly rolled. I then had to hobble to a nearby farmhouse where I called my dad, who came out from Calgary to pick me up.
When we got to Calgary, he took me to the Holy Cross Hospital, where X-rays confirmed that I’d dislocated my clavicle, broken my collarbone, torn all the ligaments connecting them and that I’d be needing surgery. It would keep me out of action for a long time — which was pretty discouraging.
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♥ STRAIGHT FROM THE HART ♥
I was in my hospital bed later that morning, waiting to be wheeled in for surgery when one of the nurses appeared and said there was a long distance phone call for me. I was wondering who it could be since no one had any idea that I was in the hospital. I’m not sure if he’d found out from my dad or what, but it was Dory Funk Sr., who said that he’d heard about my injury and was just calling to wish me well and to tell me not to let it get me down. I couldn’t believe that a legend like him would see fit to call a “wet behind the ears punk” like me just to wish me well. His call meant the world to me. Sadly, a couple of weeks later, I was shocked to hear that he had died of a heart attack. He remains a source of inspiration and wisdom to me.
At the time I was injured, I was being pushed as one of the top faces in the territory, so to sustain the momentum, I suggested to my dad that he use my brother Keith — who’d just started training with me and the others down in the Dungeon. My dad seemed to like the idea and although Keith was pretty nervous and tentative, he eventually began to get the hang of it and would soon develop into a pretty decent hand.
That summer, my dad had my brother Dean and I run his beach for him. The beach had previously been run by these old friends of my dad’s, with the main activities out there being swimming and family picnics in the daytime and, on occasion, square dances and company barbecues during the evening. Dean was one of the slickest hustlers I’ve ever seen and together we convinced my dad to let us run keg parties, which were like something out of the John Belushi movie Animal House . Later we would promote rock concerts out there, much to my dad’s chagrin. It wasn’t exactly the kind of clientele my dad approved of, but by the end of the summer, the beach had become the hottest party spot in town for kids. We ended up making more money from it than we did from wrestling
— which was pretty cool.
From doing the rock concert scene I also learned a few things that would help me in
51
StraightFromTheHart.indb 51
10/8/10 5:08:55 PM
Heading into summer 1973, I was having a blast; but in the immortal words of Ed Whalen, there was a “malfunction at the junction.” We had this spot show, near Medicine Hat, which was nearly 200 miles east of Calgary and during my match, my opponent and I got our signals crossed. I ended up taking a bad bump and really messed up my shoulder. My arm dangled limp, my collarbone protruded through the skin — it was painful as hell.
Seeing as there was no hospital in the town, I had to drive back to Calgary with my arm in a sling. About halfway home, I blew the engine in my car and had to hitchhike. A couple of guys pulled over and offered me a ride —
which was nice of them, but it turned out they’d been drinking. They ended up skidding off the road on a curve and nearly rolled. I then had to hobble to a nearby farmhouse where I called my dad, who came out from Calgary to pick me up.
When we got to Calgary, he took me to the Holy Cross Hospital, where X-rays confirmed that I’d dislocated my clavicle, broken my collarbone, torn all the ligaments connecting them and that I’d be needing surgery. It would keep me out of action for a long time — which was pretty discouraging.
52
StraightFromTheHart.indb 52
10/8/10 5:08:55 PM
♥ STRAIGHT FROM THE HART ♥
I was in my hospital bed later that morning, waiting to be wheeled in for surgery when one of the nurses appeared and said there was a long distance phone call for me. I was wondering who it could be since no one had any idea that I was in the hospital. I’m not sure if he’d found out from my dad or what, but it was Dory Funk Sr., who said that he’d heard about my injury and was just calling to wish me well and to tell me not to let it get me down. I couldn’t believe that a legend like him would see fit to call a “wet behind the ears punk” like me just to wish me well. His call meant the world to me. Sadly, a couple of weeks later, I was shocked to hear that he had died of a heart attack. He remains a source of inspiration and wisdom to me.
At the time I was injured, I was being pushed as one of the top faces in the territory, so to sustain the momentum, I suggested to my dad that he use my brother Keith — who’d just started training with me and the others down in the Dungeon. My dad seemed to like the idea and although Keith was pretty nervous and tentative, he eventually began to get the hang of it and would soon develop into a pretty decent hand.
That summer, my dad had my brother Dean and I run his beach for him. The beach had previously been run by these old friends of my dad’s, with the main activities out there being swimming and family picnics in the daytime and, on occasion, square dances and company barbecues during the evening. Dean was one of the slickest hustlers I’ve ever seen and together we convinced my dad to let us run keg parties, which were like something out of the John Belushi movie Animal House . Later we would promote rock concerts out there, much to my dad’s chagrin. It wasn’t exactly the kind of clientele my dad approved of, but by the end of the summer, the beach had become the hottest party spot in town for kids. We ended up making more money from it than we did from wrestling
— which was pretty cool.
From doing the rock concert scene I also learned a few things that would help me in
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