Mick Foley's Blog

A week ago,I congratulated Gail Kim on winning the #TNA #Knockouts Championship, and wrote that her body of work deserves to be recongnized as being among the best of all time. I believe that she slowly, but surely - almost quietly, has earned a spot amonthe the elite of women's wrestling. I remember seeing the amazing series of matches she had with #AwesomeKong in TNA, long before I joined the company, and finding them revolutionary. The ladies just had not been given the time and attention to have the opportunity to steal the show very often - and when Gail and Kong were given the chance, they made the most of it.

I'm glad so many of you enjoyed my post "A New Dawn Fot The Divas" a few weeks back, inspired by the incredible match #Natalya and #MsCharlotte had on #NXT. Let me hear about your all-time favorite women's matches, and who your favorite ladies wrestler of the modern era (post Wendy Richter, GLOW, POW, etc) is. I'm not sure Manami Toyota or Chigusa Nagoya are going to get many mentions, but feel free to dig down deep when naming your favorites. Let's hear it from you Trish Stratus fans, you Lita fans, you fans of Luna, Sable, Melina, Victoria, Ivory, Mickie james, Candice Michelle, Beth Phoenix, Santina and Chyna and any of the other lovely ladies who have impressed you inside the squared circle.

I can fully understand how someone could feel like I'm beating this CAROLINE'S horse to death (figure of speech; no animals will be harmed). If I was an outsider, looking in, I would have two main questions for Mick Foley

1) Why is this show bigger than any of the others?

2) Why are you having trouble filling 350 seats?

Good questions, Mick - which I will answer one at a time.

1) This show is bigger than the others, partially becasue it's at Caroline's on Broadway, one of the most prestigious entertainment venues in the country. Yes, I'd like to fill it with passionate Foley fans, creating an atmosphere second to none, when the WWE cameras are rolling. But THAT is the main reason this show is so big for my. Until now, I don't think WWE really knows what I do onstage. In fairness to them, on any given night, 90% of the audience has no idea what I do up there, and are taking a blind leap of faith when purchasing their tickets. Some fans have seen old videos of me telling stories for the first time - the type of unpolished performances you wish you could just rub out and eliminate like a spelling error on a test.

I'm not out there throwing wild haymakers from all over the map, either - trying to talk politics or current events. I'm a wrestler telling wrestling stories for wrestling fans - which non-fans will find themselves enjoying nonetheless. This is a VERY good show, and a very logical extension of WWE and pro-wrestling - not the vast departure that most fans are fearful of. Once WWE sees it, I think they'll "get" it, and, with their help, getting to the next rung of the ladder is going to be smoother and will benefit everyone involved - me, WWE, and the WWE Universe. TRUST ME: this is a BIG night!

2) So why am I having trouble selling this place out? Good question, and one I wished I didn't have to answer. Look, the number of people who attend a show is largely dependent on how many peoplle get encouraged through social media and on WWE.com and other wrestling websites. I did a few media appearances - like the O &A show, which was a huge help. But it's nbot like there are ads for this show on radio, TV or newspapers. It's a grassroots thing.

Believe it or not, the larger the city, the harder it can be to draw. I've earned this through experience, especially through booksignings. I would get my list of bookstores I'd be appearing at, and could immediately all but guarentee that the largest cities would draw the smallest crowds. I'd think, "OK, LA, New York and Phiily won't draw but I'll be fine everywhere else." And in almost every case, that's exactly what happened. Obviously, the game changes considerably when there is a great deal of promotion behind something, and I've drawn huge crowds in the big cities WHEN WWE is promoting them. But, when it's grass-roots, it's been my experience that it's a HECK of alot easier to draw 500 in Edmonton -as I did  on Wednesday, or 400 in Calgary - as I did on Thursday thanit is to draw 300 in NYC. Believe it or not, people were impressed when I sold-out The Improv in Hollywood last year - one of the most famous venues in the country that seats a mere 200. It's tough for all but the biggest acts to attract crowds when there are so  many other choices at hand.

So, if you're close to the NYC area today, give it a try. You'll have far more fun that you'll expect...and you will be helping out The Hardcore Legend!

http://www.ticketweb.com/t3/sale/Sale...

 

CENA!



About two years ago, before my return to WWE, I saw John Cena deliver a very good, emotional promo, and thought I'd mention that fact on my fledgeling Twitter account - I think I was closing in on 70K followers at the time. So I tweeted something along the lines of, "Great promo by @John Cena - I think it's about time more people recognized his legacy of great matches in @WWE" Two minutes later, i turned to my daughter and said, "I just got over a thousand messages."



"But Dad", she said. "You only sent that out two minutes ago."



"I know", I said. "Let me try it again." So I sent another tweet, aimed at the 50% or so who thought a Cena compliment of any kind was nothing short of sacrilege. The other 50% - members of the Cenation - absolutely loved my comment, and now felt like they had a newest and bestest buddy in The Hardcore Legend.



So, realizing that I had touched on some hot-button issue, I sent out a follow-up tweet, "oh yeah, then try to find a bad John Cena match on PPV", then sat back with my daughter and watched the interactions come flooding in - like i was racking up some kind of huge score on an old fashioned pinball game. Ding, ding, ding, ding! Over 800 more messages - split almost down the middle, with 99% of the negative ones pointing to the match with R-Truth as the proof that Cena had bad matches on PPV.



"But that's the exception that proves the rule", I wrote back, and so on and so forth, until, by thew end of the night, for better or worse, I had become a high-profile John Cena fan - making me a hero to many, a heretic to others.



I know that many of you are probably thinking, "that's all fine..but where's the bad stuff about Cena?" Don't worry; I'm getting to that. I first had to establish a historical bond between me as a Cena supporter, and his avid fan-base - The Cenation.



Ready for that old-fashioned Foley anger? Think of this in ECW "Cane Dewey" mode now, because I am really fed-up, and having listened to "Stay Hungry" by Twisted Sister in the past few days, I have a little of that "We're not gonna take it" vibe going on. Look, I had a nice exchange with a twitter follower this morning, where I explained to him that the best way to ensure you don't get a follow from someone is to send out constant requests for a follow. Because, once you do follow that person, you find that his twitter feed consists largely of constantly asking other people for follows. I guess it's the same way that people feel when they follow me and find out all I do is put out plugs for shows that are not in their part of the country or world. Plus, I get the thrill of the whole "follow" thing. I put a nice tweet out about actress Jennifer Blanc-Biehn ( @JenniferBlancB ) helping me out when I was lost and confused (actually physically lost - I couln't find my way to The Artie Lange Show) and was THRILLED to see that she'd just followed me. Every few months, I click on @ZooeyDeschanel's profile, just to see if she MIGHT be following me. So, I get that. But if I want to get a follow from Zoeey, I have to believe that constantly asking her for a follow would be the WORST way to accomplish that goal. Because as much as not being followed by Zooey might not feel as good as being follwed by her, it's a heck of a lot better than finding out I've been blocked by Zooey Deschanel for constant follow requests.



I'm getting off track. You want some Cena dirt, right? Well here it is - even if it has very little to actually do with Cena, and everything to do with The Cenation. It's just become increasingly hard for me to believe that many of these follow requests, coming from people claiming to be my "biggest fan" can actually be coming from my biggest fan, when their Twitter handle has the words "CENA" or "CENATION" in it! Come on guys, a simple click of a button showing me a caption that reads, "John Cena is my hero, my idol and my God. I live and breath for him" is a likely indicator that the person repeatedly asking for a request is, in fact, not likely to be my biggest fan. In fact, I often get repetitive requests for follows from people claiming to be my biggest fan, check out their profile, and find  that I'm NOT EVEN ON THEIR list of favorite wrestlers.



You know what would make me feel better? Hearing from John Cena himself that he is being inundated by requests for follows from his "biggest fans" - coming from members of The Folenation, or The Association of Little Micksters.



There it is: my Cena rant. I still like the guy, respect him, think he's a great representative of WWE, and think more people should take note of his legacy of great matches in WWE. But his fans are driving me crazy.



In conclusion: follow me Zooey! Follow me, follow me, follow me!

It's after 4am here in New York, and I should probably be getting some sleep. I'm a notoriously bad plane-sleeper; it's not unusual for me to take a walk through the aisle a few hours into a trans-Atlantic flight, and find I'm the ONLY person not fast aleeep. But, before I go, I wanted to give you the latest update on my UK "Tales From Wrestling Past" tour. As the name might imply, it IS a wrestler, telling wrestling stories for wrestling fans, but I do my very best to create a welcoming atmosphere for everyone - from the die-hardest of wrestling fans to the loyal wife or girlfriend, tagging along in an amazing show of love and devotion. Believe it or not, the non-fans almost always enjoy themselves, and seek me out to let me know how surprised they were.

With my further involvement in WWE, it's just not going to be possible for me to do a tour of this length again. In the future. I'll probably do 4 days in Ireland in November, but when I hit the UK again in a couple years, it will most likely be for a week or so - in the larger cities. SO, not that I'm threatening anyone in Middlesbrough, Derby and Telford, but...I'm not likely to pass through your towns again.

Here's how sales are shaping up. Belfast, Manchester and 2 of 3 London shows are SOLD-OUT. Leeds and Bath have less than 50 tickets remaining, and Edinburgh, Glasgow, Sheffield, Southend and Cardiff all have about 100 tickets left. Tickets are plentiful in some of the larger venues, like Middlesbrough, Newcastle, York, Birmingham, Telford, Derby and Reading. Warwick is not a very large venue, but, nonetheless, there are a few hundred tickets left.

I've got some great support along the way. Billy Kirkwood will be joining me in Edinburgh and Glasgow. Jim Smallman will be helping me out in Middlesbrough and Newcastle. Carl Hutchinson will offer support in Sheffield and York, and Chris Brooker will be lending a hand in Manchester, Sheffield, York, Leeds, Reading, London and Southend. Eddy award winning comic Brendon Burns will be offering up his G-rated observations (ok, he's about the furthest thing from G as you can get) on 10 shows: Leeds, Birmingham, Telford, Derby, Warwick, Cardiff, Bath, Reading, and at least two of the London shows. Magician extraordinaire Mat Ricardo will make a surprise appearance on at least one show, and in a great new aquisition, Craig Campbell of "Canadian Lumberjacks" fame will be hosting the sows in Telford and Derby.

If you're in the area, and it's in your budget, I hope you will consider coming out to a show.

http://uk.realmickfoley.com

 

THIS IS WHAT I DO!

Can I be honest
with you? My spoken word shows are good. Call them stand-up, call them
one-man shows; I wish I knew what the heck to call them. But I do know
they're good. Usually, they're really good. Almost always, people
show up having no idea what to expect, and walk away feeling like
they've been part of something much better than they were expecting.


But to be equally honest, I have done a very poor job promoting what I
do. Yes, I do get my plugs in - probably way too many of them. But very
few people even know what the heck it is that I'm plugging. Over the
past year, I kept waiting for WWE to embrace what I did, and take me
under their wing. The way I saw it, World Wrestling Entertainment could
almost instantly dip a giant foot into the waters of a whole new brand
of entertainment with a single USA special, DVD release or promotion of a
multi-media one-man-show. In retrospect, I wish I'd just showed up in
Stamford, CT, thrown a copy of the "Life" section of USA today with Mike
Tyson's story on the cover and said "if we can't do a better one-man
show than Mike Tyson, we're all in trouble."

I still think WWE
is eventually going to get it. Maybe my Hall of Fame speech will help.
Sure, it was a little long, with no real emotionally stirring closing
statement. And I've kicked myself in the butt (figuratively) many times
for not bringing the speech home after that ad-lib elbow gift from the
wrestling Gods - and/or Chris Jericho, and CM Punk - knowing
instinctively that the moment couldn't possibly get any more perfect.
But, at the very least, I showed I could entertain a large crowd with
some tales of wrestling past.

But that speech - as special as
it was - is not indicative of what I do. But THIS footage is. Filmed at
last summer's Edinburgh Fringe Festival with just a single camera at
the side of the stage, I think it captures the real FEEL of what one of
my shows is like. Unlike my naive decision to open the Montreal festival
with a story I'd neither written out or told in public, this footage
from The Fringe contains material I'd worked on for quite a while. I
could have edited out my dealings with a heckler, or the helpful sexual
suggestion from a spirited female fan, but opted not to. I think they
provide a further sense of what my show is about.

I long ago
accepted that I won't ever compete on a laugh-for-laugh basis with a guy
like Louie CK, or a woman like Amy Schumer, or any one of a hundred
(probably way more) talented performers who are more polished, more
professional, and flat-out funnier than I'll ever be. But I wouldn't
trade places with them, even if I could. I like telling my stories, my
way, to my fans. I'm happy when I'm up there, on stage, connecting with
an audience. There are still some nights when I take my emotional lumps
out there and wonder what I'm doing, and why I'm doing it. Trust me,
doing autograph signings is far easier, far safer, and up until
recently, far more financially rewarding. But when I watch this
footage (which I hope you will too) it all seems crystal clear. It's the
closes thing I've ever felt to being in the ring..without a tooth stuck
in my nose.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S4728V...

Several years ago, I received a phone call from a distraught mother, whose daughter had just passed away after a long illness. I had met the young lady only once, and was at a loss for words - struggling to find any words of wisdom or guidance that might help at such an awful time. I told the grieving woman that I would talk to a friend of mine, who might be able to offer some guidance - a woman I had gotten to know well during the course of her own child's extended battle with, and eventual death from cancer.

 The young man's life and death had touched me to the point where I had written a small chapter, "Marcos", dedicated to his memory in my 2007 book, "The Hardcore Diaries." I hoped that his mother, Rachel, might be able to tell me something - anything, that might allow me to ease the suffering of this other woman.

  "Does it
ever get better?", I asked.

"No", Marcos's
mother told me. "It never gets better. Not a day goes by when I don't
feel the pain of losing my boy. You just learn to live with the pain."


Like so many in the wrestling world, my heart goes out to the family
and friends of Reid Fliehr, who left this world way too young - at the
age of 25. AS a father of four children of my own, I can only imagine
the grief that his family must be feeling. I didn't know Reid all that well.  But I
remember watching him play while I was at his father's house in 1991 -
all of 3 years old, taking on all the challenges that a swing-set  had to
offer. I remember seeing him every couple of years after that, watching
him grow from a toddler into a boy, and then into a handsome young man
with a world of potential.

What I remember mostly, though, was
sitting next to his father, Ric Flair, on an airplane, getting ready to
take off from the Philippines to Los Angelas - a flight in the
neighborhood of 16 hours. I was a little nervous about sitting next to
the legendary Nature Boy for such an extended duration; after all, it
was widely known that we didn't see eye to eye on too many things. But I
listened to Ric, as one by one, child by child, he placed telephone
calls to each of his children - just to tell them he loved them. I asked
Ric about the calls during the course of the flight, mentioning how
touching I found them to be.

"I do that every day", Ric said.
"Just because you never know." Now Reid is gone, leaving behind a world of
"whys" and "what ifs". But unlike so many who leave this world far too
soon, he left knowing that he was loved. For Reid's family, the pain may never
get better. Over time, I hope, and pray, they learn to live with that pain.
But I hope that knowing they loved their son - and that Reid kew he was loved, will be a source of small comfort in the trying times ahead.
God bless you, Reid Fliehr. May you rest in peace

I've been meaning to write this for a while. I viewed the documentary, "The Last of McGuiness" a few weeks ago, and it's stuck with me since then. The movie, an in-depth account of Nigel McGuinness's farewell wrestling tour in late 2011 can be tough to watch at times - not because it's bad; to the contrary, it's very good - but because it can be unflinching in depicting Nigel's pain, frustration, and, quite often, bitterness, as an end comes to a career that has not brought him all he hoped.

One of the things that kept running through my mind as I watched the movie was just how far Nigel's image of himself and his place within the business varied from my own perception of him. Prior to watching his documentary, had anyone asked me whether Nigel McGuiness had "made it" in the business, I would have said "oh sure; Nigel was one of the best." After all, he had the great run in ROH, with state of the art matches with Bryan Danielson, and, when given his shot on a national platform, had a great run with Kurt Angle. What more could a guy want? He had the respect of his peers, some  legitimate "match of the year" contenders, and a run on top - with Kurt Angle, one of the best of all-time - in a national promotion. So why didn't Nigel see himself as having made it?

Oh yeah, there's that tricky issue of being able to make a living doing what you love to do. I'd heard vague rumors as to why Nigel had been let go by WWE. But guys get let go by WWE all the time; it's just one of those unfortunate facts of life. But, when see in the context of Nigel's film, it's just heartbreaking to see how close he came to achieving his dream, only to see an old bicep injury provide an unceremonial exit. But I saw him as having landed on his feet with the move to TNA, and the matches with Angle as vindication for his WWE departure. Obviously, while watching the film, I learned that Nigel didn't see things in quite the same light.

One gets the sense from watching the movie that Daniel Bryan's success has made Nigel's departure from the business particularly difficult. Not because he wishes any ill-will to his former ROH colleague, but becasue Bryan (Danielson) like McGuiness, was a guy who on paper, should not have become a star in WWE. Too small, not colorful enough, too much of a technician - not enough of a character. But yet, there is Bryan an unlikely WWE Superstar reaching heights that no one (at least not this particular wrestling enthusiast) could have predicted. After spending quite a bit of time with ROH in 2005, I thought both Danielson and McGuiness were great wrestlers, and even back then, I could see Danielson's sense of humor peeking through. But I never went to bat for either man, as far as WWE reccomendations went. I highly recommended Punk, Samoa Joe, and pitched Homicide as a guy who could brawl or wrestle, who wrestled much "bigger" than his actual size, who could connect with a different type of audience than the luchadors who were expected to appeal to the entire Hispanic viewing audience.

But Nigel always struck me as such a nice chap, seemingly happy with the cards the business had dealt him. Always seemed upbeat, never a hint of the frustration that just about consumes him in this documentary. On occasions where I've done reality TV/documentary work, I've always realized that my fate lay partially in the hands of the editors. But, in McGuiness's case, he is the editor, and how well he comes accross is largely up to him. The fact that he willingly airs footage of his post-retirement tantrum is a brave move, and one that illustrates his quest to ducument the truth, even when the truth is far from pretty. His admission that the nightly retirement tributes and speeches felt less and less authentic was another bold statement that could easily have been left on the editing room floor. Yet Nigel keeps it, and the film is better off for his lack of vanity.

I was by myself when I started watching Nigel's film. But over the course of the viewing, I was gradually joined by all my children, ages 21, 19, 12 and 9. None of them left. All of them stayed, interested, even transfixed by the events unfolding on their TV screen. All the while, I kept thinking, "I hope Nigel gets some closure out of this", hoping that the filming and editing process would allow him another look and some appreciation for everything he accomplished in a very productive career. This does seem to be the case (don't want to ruin the ending, but you might enjoy it more if you know there is a flicker of light at the end of this tunnel) and my hope as the credits rolled was that Nigel would someday be able to look back on his career and realize that being among the very best in the world, and having the matches to prove it, should provide its own comforts - even if it's not enough to fully cushion the blows taken - both physically and emotionally along the way.

I hope you'll give "The Last of McGuiness" a try. Don't rent it or borrow it. Buy it from the man himself at http://nigelwrestling.com . His heart, hopes, sadness, frustration and, ultimately, his redemption are all over this film.

I've been thinking about writing about Buddy Roberts, since learning of his November 29th passing. It was mid-December when I finally got the word - giving an indication of how much attention his passing received in the mainstream wrestling world. I just didn't know how many modern fans would remember Buddy, or how relevant his career might seem to those who never had the priviledge of seeing Buddy in his prime - as one half of The Hollywood Blondes in the 1970's, or as one third of the ground-breaking, star-making, top-drawing Fabulous Freebirds of the 1980's. I knew there would be others who could write more knowlegeably about his career, and his influence on the business. But as a guy who knew Buddy for over 25 years (I met him either in November, 1986 or January 1987), and most importantly, as a guy who has been doing some serious thinking on the subject, I feel like I have to share at least a few thoughts on Buddy Roberts - as a wrestler, an inspiration, and as a friend.

 

By the time I met Buddy, on a Mid-South swing into Ohio and West Virginia, I was already well-versed in the legendary accomplishments of The Freebirds - both in and out ofthe ring. Inside it, The Birds were innovators and money-drawers; a team comprised of three very different parts, three very different people, who somehow operated as one cohesive unit. Michael Hayes was the mouthpiece and the focal point of The Birds. He was one of the best talkers this business has ever known, and, to those who watched him, either hating him, or loving him - because there was no in-between - almost tough enough to back up his words all by himself. That's where Terry Gordy came in; he backed up the game Hayes talked, and did it as convincingly as any big man of his era. There would be those - like me - who would watch - as fans - and wonder why we should believe that a wrestler like Gordy - muppet-like in features, thick, as opposed to muscular in stature - should be taken seriously as an ass-kicker.  Then we'd watch him at work. and come to believe pretty quickly that he should be taken seriously as an ass-kicker because he dealt out some serious ass-kickings. Then, there was Buddy.

Buddy was the guy it took a little longer to appreciate. I'm not sure if I appreciated him at first. I was in The Garden in New York City the night they made their sole appearance. If memory serves me right, it was August, 1984, and I had taken my parents to MSG to see Snuka vs Piper. Yes, that's the type of caring son I was. Out came this legendary team I'd been reading about for years in PWI, and to tell you the truth, I wasn't that impressed - mainly by Buddy. I was less than a year away from entering the wrestling business myself, and looking at Buddy, I thought I had a realistic shot at him. But that was actually part of his charm. Half the audience on any given night in the Sportatorium probably thought they had a reasonable shot against him - yet there he was, on a weekly basis, creating mayhem, delivering cheap-shots, dishing out punishment to the heroic Von Erics.

When I did get into the business, in the Spring of 1985, and slowly came to learn the inner working of the busines - or at least the inner workings of the workers in the business, I came to marvel at Buddy Roberts. He was the guy who took the beating. He was the guy who dropped the fall, but somehow maintained his heat. He would do anything to make his matches exciting - including the rumored dropping of the first elbow off the ring apron. He could make anyone and anything around him look better. If someone around him was bad, he could make them look good. If they were good, he could make them look great. And if something was great - like The Fabulous Freebirds - he could help turn greatness to legend.

Buddy had his demons, to be sure. Not everyone gets an added middle name (Jack) based on their beverage of choice. Not everyone gets to have that nickname turned into a verb, based on the change in his behavior when enjoying that beverage of choice. The term "jacked off" had no sexual connotation when used in conjunction with Buddy Jack. It was just a way of describing his lively change in behavior  when enjoying his drink of choice. While I admit that I did see an occasional episode of Buddy J-ing off, there was a far different side of Buddy "Jack " Roberts that drew me to him as a friend, and an inspiration.

It was Buddy, along with Terry Taylor, Chris Adams, Eddie Gilbert and Missy Hyatt who started spreading the word about the two DeNucci students (me and Shane Douglas) who were tearing down the house in towns like Hundred, Virginia. The traditional Mid-South strongholds in Louisiana, Texas, etc had been hit hard by a recent slowdown in an oil-based economy, and owner Bill Watts was looking to expand to other areas where his sydicated, state-of-the-art TV show was popular. Shane got his shot with Mid-South. I kind of blew mine (see "Have a Nice Day", the Sam Houston "phantom elbow" match) but Buddy Roberts wouold nonetheless stay an outspoken advocate of mine, until we did meet up again - briefly in Memphis, and then in World Class Championship Wrestling.

The Freebirds were no more by then - Michael Hayes had gone on to WCW, and Terry Gordy was adding to his legend in Japan. Buddy was the manager of The Samoan Swat Team - in my opinion, the single most physicall dominant tag-team I'd ever seen. Try to find them in their World Class Days; they were awesome! Well. the SST got the call from WCW, and Buddy didn't get to go. He'd mellowed, with the help of his lovely wife Janice, and I'd often travel to shows wiuth them, absorbing as much knowledge as I could. I have a photo of my last day in World Class -  a day when Buddy Roberts helped me pack all my belongings (6 boxes) into my Plymouth Arrow - knowing that my "Loser Leaves Town" match with Eric Embry was not likely to go my way. It's a photo ofme with my wrist brace ( a souvineer from my Ft Worth "Scaffold Match" that did not go particularly well) taking a break and enjoying ice pops with Buddy's 3 year-old son, Brandon. Still tough for me to believe that the little kid with the ice-pop is now 27 years old.

Yes, Buddy "Jack" Roberts was a friend of mine. But is he still relevant? After giving it some thought, I became almost ashamed of myself for even wondering. Though he may be gone in person, his spirit still lives. It lives in every bad guy who makes us laugh, even while we hate them.  It lives in the memory of Kurt Angle wearing that ridiculous wig underneath his head-gear, trying to claim he hadn't actually lost his hair. Vintage Buddy Roberts. It lives in the stories Chris Jericho tell - of challenging Y2J to meet me at my book-signing at 7pm at the Walmart in St Louis if he wanted a piece of me. Different time, different signing, but vintage Roberts as well - and the most successful book-signing I ever had. It lives, most importantly, in the mind of Michael Hayes, whose creative mind has left such an indelible stamp on the WWE landscape for the better part of 20 years. Without the influence of Buddy Roberts, I just don't see Hayes leaving that indelible stamp..and without Hayes' indelible stamp, World WQrestling Entertainment would be a far differnt place; less dynamic, less creative, less fun. Most of our WWE Universe has never seen footage of Buddy Roberts. Fewer still got the chance to see him live. A lucky few had the chance to know him. Yet, without our realizing it, Buddy Roberts has been entertaining us for years.

My inclusion into the 2013 WWE Hall of Fame has been an honor of the highest magnitude - an event I know will go down as one of the highlights of my career, probably my life. But as I finish this piece on Buddy Roberts, I can't help but wish that Buddy Roberts had been given that same honor during his lifetime, and can't help but hope that the doors of the Hall will someday open for Buddy, for Terry, for Michael.

 

I LOVE THIS BOOK!

About a year ago, I had my first official meeting with WWE
in three years. I discussed a number of subjects with Triple H, and after
shaking hands on the potential of a working relationship, I thought of one last
pressing concern – a little something that had been in the back of my mind for
the past eight years.  “You know, I’d
really like to write another children’s book.” 
It probably sounded almost like an afterthought, but the truth was, I
missed writing children’s books.

 After the disappointing
numbers “Tales From Wrescal Lane” (which I absolutely loved writing) put up,
the world was not exactly beating down a path to my door, begging for a sequel.
The world of literature had changed A LOT since 2000, when “Mick Foley’s
Christmas Chaos”  put in some serious
hang time on the New York Times children’s best-seller list – despite being
banned in some stores  (for the depiction
of a naked elf) and filed away under “adult humor” in others; kind of hurting
me in the Santa Claus market. I followed it up with another Times best-seller, “Mick
Foley’s Halloween Hijinx” and even read the book to Katie Couric on “Today.” I
was on a roll, brother – 4 books, 4 best-sellers; batting 1,000 when it came to
hitting the exclusive Times list.

I’m 5 for 9 now, with only 1 of my last 5 books hitting that
list. I came to realize how special it is to have a book hit that list at all,
given the 1,000’s of authors whose hard work and dreams will never be seen by a
single set of eyes, let alone a mass audience. I also came to see just how
integral timing is when it comes to the promotion of these books.

 Man, what I wouldn’t
give for the market to be like it was in 1999, when “Have a Nice Day” seemed to
be exactly what WWE fans were clamoring for..and when all I had to do to
promote it was show up with it on TV. I remember shooting a commercial for
overstuffed beef ravioli, where Mankind, as the Boy-R-Dee-avore was posed in
the foreground of the Statue of Liberty, a can of overstuffed beef ravioli held
aloft, like the Lady of Liberty’s torch.  I mentioned to the director that the Statue
was holding a book in her other hand, and that in order for our overstuffed
embellishment to feel more legit, I should probably hold some type of book in
my other hand, too.

“Good idea”, the director said. “It’s too bad we don’t have
some kind of a book with us.”

“I think I may just have a book”, I said. Presto, national
advertising!

That was 13 years ago. Chances are, I’m not going to be on WWE
TV too much, holding “A Most Mizerable Christmas”  aloft. The company loves the book, though, and
I think we could have a nice little success on our hands. But I measure success
a little differently in 2012 than I did in 1999. Back then, I was looking to
hit best-seller lists and to be well compensated for my efforts. This time, my
goal is really simple: I just want “A Most Mizerable Christmas” to do well
enough to merit another book – hopefully a Halloween book in the fall of 2013.
I would love to do a series of these children’s books, where I get to right all
the wrongs in the world (or at least the little corner of it known as Wrescal
Lane) in 20 minutes of rhyme.

Like I said, no one was beating a path to my door, pleading
with me to write another children’s book. I wrote the story and pitched the
book in front of the marketing team, telling them for the first of many times
that “this is not about money.”  It’s not
about the money. Yes, I’ll be making a little bit, but promoting this book is
largely going to be a labor of love. I’m really hoping this book will be my
gateway into becoming a much bigger part of WWE’s “Be a STAR” campaign, and
that the Superstars and Divas whose childhood likenesses are on display in “A
Most Mizerable Christmas” – especially The Miz (@MiketheMiz ) CM Punk ( @CMPunk
) and John Cena ( @JohnCena ) will get behind the book and send out an
occasional tweet or message.

I guess by now you know that I won’t be shy about getting
the word out. I love this book. I’m really happy with the rhymes and the feel
of the story, and the little lesson learned by The Miz. I love the fact that my
son Mickey inspired it when he was just 3 years old – when he told me to tell
Santa that he didn’t need any more toys. St Nick could simply give more toys to
the kids who really needed them. I love the idea of being a children’s book
author for the first time in 8 years. I know parents are going to love reading
it to their children, as much as children love having it read to them. Despite
the fact that I kind of liked being that rebel with the book that had been banned,
I love the fact that this book is not going to offend anyone. Sure, there is
one lone reference to pee-pee, but at worst, it’s a single PG line in an
otherwise very G-rated book.  Try it –
you’ll more than like it. You WILL love this book!Here's a sneak peek http://www.wwe.com/inside/miz-makes-c...

The price in nice, too! You can pre-order it for right
around $10 US (that’s half of what my other children’s books were) at  http://www.amazon.com/Most-Mizerable-...   or http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-mos...  
and for just under 10 pounds at  http://www.amazon.co.uk/Most-Mizerabl...  in the UK.
Yes, I’ll probably over-do my tweets about this book. But I would love to have
the chance to write a 2013 Halloween book, and more, much more in the future. Thanks
for reading, and for entertaining the idea that “A Most Mizerable Christmas”
will make for a most awesome gift!

 

It’s been almost a week since I returned from the Edinburgh Fringe Festival – one of the great experiences of my life. The days I spent at The Fringe – five of them, were hectic. With only five days to spend in the most unique artistic atmosphere I’d ever witnessed, I longed to take in as much, to see as much, to learn as much as I possibly could.  I did four shows of my own, guested on four others  did three meet and greets ,and - in a quest to take in as much of The Fringe atmosphere, as I could - took in as many different  shows in as many different atmospheres as I could.

 I did separate podcasts with Matt Ricardo, an amazing magician, and Rich Herring, a brilliant comic. Matt was a huge wrestling fan who had done meticulous homework; Herring knew very little of me, and just winged it. Two completely different experiences; different styles, different crowds, different feels – but I enjoyed them both equally.   I was reminded of the David Allen Coe song “If That Ain’t Country” and its line “where bikers stare at cowboys, who are laughing at the hippies, who are praying they’ll get out of here alive.”

  Not that there was any hint of danger among the different sub-sects of performers at The Fringe. It certainly seemed that magicians hung with dancers, who chatted with the comics – and they all embraced a wrestler.  I loved how such a diversity of talent managed to maneuver itself, in some surreal form of human, city-wide Twister into venues large, small, and even smaller.  Much like the world of wrestling, whose stars occasionally arise from the unlikeliest of places, there is talent and passion to be found in every nook and cranny of The Fringe – from the obvious; the sold out shows of Fringe titans Brendon Burns (my comedy mentor) and Stewart Lee, to the obscure; perhaps my fondest memory of the festival took place, literally, in a cave.

Let me get my shows out of the way. I loved doing them. They were well-attended, audiences seemed more than satisfied (at this point most of my wrestling fans have no idea what to expect) and reviews, thus far, have been kind.  While I wish I could have gotten a fourth star from Broadway Babies, the closing line – ‘if you’re a wrestling fan, you’ll love it, and if you’re not, you’ll like it” – is an incredibly astute and accurate summation..and one I will refer to with regularity when asked in the future to describe my show.

 Just a few weeks ago, I may have put up some kind of argument, claiming that I used wrestling as a vantage point to jump into subjects on the world at-large. But then I went to Montreal and Edinburgh, and saw just how fortunate I was to have an audience at all, and just how foolish it would be to chase them away. If you want funny, I could have pointed you in many different directions at The Fringe – to Martin “Big Pig” Mor at The Stand, to Billy Kirkwood, killing for free at The Beehive, to Jim Smallman, to Carl Hutchinson, and so on and so forth. Maybe hanging with Craig Campbell, Glenn Wool and Stewart Francis (The Canadian Lumberjacks) for four nights was the best dose of medicine I possibly could have swigged. Campbell, with his amazing insight into different cultures (he had a ten minute conversation with a Polish cab-driver on a cavalry battle in Poland THREE HUNDRED YEARS AGO) Wool, with his way-deeper- than they seem observations on religion and politics, and Francis, with his amazing sense of word-play were amazing comedians. I had amazing stories that I had learned to tell well. I know who I am now; I am a wrestler telling wrestling stories for wrestling fans. And I’m finally cool with that. Thanks for the wake-up call, Montreal and Edinburgh. I’ll apologize ahead of time if this wrestling sub-sect ends up over-running The Fringe in a few years.

Several months ago, I had written a blog about the hardships I was facing as a wrestler-turned-comic; about how difficult it was to convince those people who already liked me to take a chance on watching me try something new. Worst of all, I wrote, I had to continually tweet about my upcoming experiences, which some Twitter followers didn’t enjoy. Some simply didn’t care to see me anywhere but in a wrestling atmosphere. Some thought I was “whoring myself out” to be informing people of gigs they had no wish to be informed about. Some just thought it was sad. I’ll admit that a line from a Las Vegas review from two years ago “the man who used to play to tens of thousands, now plays to tens of tens” still stings from time to time.  

 I love how it feels to be up on that stage - creating, entertaining; making an audience laugh, wince, gasp, or even shed a tear every now and then.  It feels so much like everything I loved about wrestling – but with the type of pain that’s usually confined to psychological. No matter how bad the gig – and I’ve had some stinkers – I believe my work-related late night emergency room visits are a thing of the past. But up until recently, the high of that onstage rush seemed dwarfed by the awful low of having to actually, physically tweet about gigs – and face criticism because of it.

Then…I travelled to Edinburgh. I saw performers who knew going into The Fringe, that they had little chance of making money, little chance of drawing large crowds, little chance of fulfilling their dreams. I’d been told going in, that the average crowd for an Edinburgh show was three. Yet, these dedicated, talented performers do it because they love it, and because little chance is better than playing It safe in exchange for having no chance at all.

I met Carly Tarett while looking for my buddy Carl Hutchinson’s gig. She was handing out flyers, and was being most helpful, until having to inform me that she had her own show to go to. So I followed her a few blocks, to her one-woman show, Sinful and watched her act, imitate and sing her way through a labyrinth of complex characters – in front of an audience of ten. Suddenly, sending out a couple tweets a day didn’t seem like such an imposition. The theater I was performing in actually paid people to hand out my fliers.

I emerged from that small show with a better understanding of the dedication and the talent that runs rampant in this town every August – and with a heightened resolve to take in as much as I could while I still had the chance.

 Half a block in front of me, I saw a yellow flyer fall from an anonymous backpack. Not intentionally discarded, but seemingly not such a valuable item as to be safely tucked away. I thought about yelling to the backpack guy. Instead, I promised myself that, time permitting, I would see whatever show was advertised on the flyer. I picked it up, saw an attractive blond woman, and the words “Kerry Gilbert: Triumphs”.  Hmm, interesting, but too slightly too chick-humor looking; like the “Sex and the City” type stuff that I watched, but not too often, that I liked but never loved. If I’d picked up the flyer two hours earlier, I would have taken a pass. But the spirit of The Fringe now seemed to have a grip on me, making me wonder if it might not be fate leading me into a Cave to see the attractive woman on the yellow flyer. So, instead of taking a pass, I took a chance – and really haven’t been quite the same since. The Caves are aptly named; they are a series of small, musty theaters, seating a maximum of fifty, but usually inhabited by far less. I was one of only six to see “Kerry Gilbert: Triumphs” on that particular evening. Yet when Ms Gilbert took to the stage, it was with an enthusiasm and a joyfulness that immediately pushed the less-than-stately ambience from my mind.  Within minutes, I no longer felt like I was in a tiny crowd; I felt, instead, like I’d been fortunate enough to have been led by luck or fate into this intimate audience with such a unique and charming talent.

Wrestlers sometimes have a tendency to look out on a small crowd and adopt an “F them” attitude, taking their frustration out on the wrong people – the ones who had the audacity to show up.  There was not even a whiff of that attitude from Ms Gilbert that night, as she dove head-long into a menagerie of delightfully kooky characters, stories and songs – turning the dingiest of venues into the most spectacular of theaters, and transforming  a beaten-down 47 year-old wrestler into the most starry-eyed of children.  But transformations of this type aren’t unheard of. Disney’s Magic Kingdom does it for me. So does the occasional Broadway show, or the annual Radio City Music Hall Christmas spectacular. The Wizarding World of Harry Potter dies it for others. But those transformations are achieved through the work of hundreds, sometimes thousands, with staggering budgets and elaborate productions. Kerry Gilbert accomplished it, by herself…in a cave. And in doing so, she reminded me of one of the things I used to like about myself, but had lost along the way – the idea that every match was my most important match, no matter if it was in front of 26 fans in Poka, West Virginia (I counted) or in front of 65,000 at The Tokyo Dome. 

I’m rediscovering that same passion I used to have for professional wrestling through the art of comedy. Some will say that what I do isn’t actually comedy – which is a fair criticism. “The Skinny” gave my show in Edinburgh 4 stars, but pointed out that what I do might be more accurately described as “spoken word” – which is probably true.  But, that’s one of the thrills of The Fringe; figuratively watching the bikers stare at cowboys, who are laughing at the hippies, who are praying they get out of here alive. 

I saw some of the very best comics in the world while I was in Montreal and Edinburgh. Comics who made me laugh uproariously, and chuckle and giggle, and all of the things that a good punch-line or well- crafted callback will do. I’m not sure I laughed more than once or twice out-loud while watching Kerry Gilbert. But I smiled from ear-to-ear  for 55 minutes, and know I’ll think back often to that wonderfully wacky web she wove for me inside that dingy cave/spectacular theater. I may not be an expert on comedy just yet, but after 27 years in sports-entertainment, I believe I know “it” – those two tricky letters that can spell the difference between good and great - when I see “it”. And Kelly Gilbert has “it”.  I hope some of you reading this – especially you reviewers - will venture forth into “Just the Tonic” at The Caves, at 6:30 pm and see if she can’t weave a web of similarly wacky wonderment just for for you.  

There’s something for everybody at The Fringe in Edinburgh, be they biker, cowboy, hippie or magician, singer, comic. Friendship laughter, good food and drink are abundant. For the lucky few, there is money. But I think it was the wrestler who walked away from this particular Fringe with the best booty of all.  The wrestler found his passion.  And I don’t intend to lose it anytime soon. Thanks for an amazing, invigorating five days. I can’t  wait to do it again.