The Road Warriors: Danger, Death, and the Rush of Wrestling by Joe Laurinaitis Read Free Book Online Page B

had been wrestling for a few years but had recently blown one of his knees out on two separate occasions. He was looking to step out of the ring but stay in the business. Paul was also a genius with an IQ of 162 and was a former junior powerlifting champion with a recorded dead lift in the 750-pound range. For the first few months, Paul was our voice while we stood on either side of him as silent, menacing enforcers. We were a complete presentation now.
    The time finally arrived for our big TV debut as the Road Warriors on GCW’s World Championship Wrestling . While we were gearing up in the back, Ole walked up. “We’re gonna shock a lot of people today, boys.” Then he congratulated us and handed over the NWA National Tag Team Championship belts.
    It was just like that. Without even wrestling in a single match, we were champions for the first time. It was an unprecedented move, but Ole had needed to make a quick decision.
    As it turned out, Ole had been in a real jam with his most recent champs, Arn Anderson and Matt Borne (future WWF character Doink the Clown). Borne had been accused of statutory rape. The impending publicity wasn’t something Ole wanted brought to the company, so he made a change: Arn and Borne were out, and Hawk and I were in.
    Officially, it was explained that a few days before our TV debut, we’d won the titles during a tag team tournament in Chicago. It never happened. What did happen was that the Road Warriors became NWA champions without having to wrestle a single match. On June 11, 1983, we made our first ever TV appearance for GCW and came out with the belts around our waists as if we’d always had them.
    Having the NWA National Tag Team Championship title was a huge deal. It immediately established us with the fans as legitimate forces to be reckoned with, and the boys in the back realized we were going to be around awhile, too.
    Ole later told me that from time to time a few of the guys would complain about our stiff style and instant push. “They wanted you gone,” he said. “I told them if they wanted you fired to go do it themselves because I sure as hell wasn’t going to.”
    It was still hard to grasp, though. Only a few weeks before, Hawk and I were in Minnesota debating if we should go to Atlanta or not, and now we were champions. We were in the company of other known National Tag Team champion teams like the Freebirds, Brad and Bob Armstrong, and the Wild Samoans, Afa and Sika.
    It really showed how much Ole believed in us, too. He knew we were raw but that with Paul at our side, we’d learn from one of the most brilliant minds in the business. As our manager, Paul developed a vaudevillian carnival ringleader type of gimmick complete with a top hat, blue coat with tails, a pink tie, and his trademark folded up issue of the Wall Street Journal .
    Paul hyped us during interviews with quick, creative articulation and a deep, gravelly tone. “Here come the Monsters of the Midway,” he’d yell. “I’m bringing the world something that’s never been seen before. The most dominating tag team of all time! You better run for your lives.” Paul was a phenomenal talent and businessman and exactly what we needed. He made the claims, and we backed them up. It was a perfect circle.
    One thing many people don’t know is that Paul was our real manager. All of the managers in wrestling at the time—guys like Bobby Heenan, Jim Cornette, and Jimmy Hart—were playing a character role. Paul, on the other hand, did everything from booking our appearances, flights, and hotel rooms to sitting us down and strategizing our matches.
    Almost every night, Hawk and I watched as Paul would sketch out a ring and stick figures on a piece of paper. “Okay, guys, this is the ring. Now, we don’t want to do too much at one time, so pick two moves to add to the match every week. Once you’ve perfected the timing and execution, we’ll move on.” Then he pointed with his pencil and gestured with his