Forgiven: One Man's Journey from Self-Glorification to Sanctification (27 page)

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Chapter 35

THE CAKE IS ICED . . .

GET ME OUTTA HERE!

Rock bottom. When you hit it, you know it. There’s no place else to sink. When the creative team wrote in Fake Razor and Fake Diesel (the former wwf characters of Scott Hall and Kevin Nash, who we’d lost to wcw), that was it for me. “Embarrassed” isn’t the word — I had moved on to ashamed. What really boggled my mind was the fact that Vince himself was going along with it. At the time, I felt it was a total disgrace. How Vince could ever have thought that this was going to work was way beyond my comprehension. It’s kind of like the Mets deciding to trade Mike Piazza, replacing him with
me . . .
and then trying to pass me off as Mike Piazza. It was inexcusable. At times I thought Vince had lost his mind. He was nearing desperation, if not already beyond it. I was told at the time that the wwf was tightrop-ing that thin monetary line between black and red. Many inside Titan Tower suspected that Vince was in financial trouble — even though that was kept hush-hush.

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Me? I had given up. The product was unwatchable. I had to laugh when the Fake Diesel/Fake Razor angle became such a disgrace that, in the story line itself, they wound up putting the heat on Good ol’

JR. The Okey was bringing these guys into the Federation to get back at Vince McMahon for firing him a couple of years earlier. The good thing? At least the writers were starting to use some reality in their story lines. The bad thing was they couldn’t figure out the best way to execute it. It was pathetic. I’d seen better Corey Feldman movies. It was getting to the point that I didn’t even want to be associated with the company. I had to take some kind of action — and I did. I called my friend over at wcw, the
real
Diesel, Kevin Nash.

But before I get to that monumental phone call, I’ve got another story — one that clearly paints a clear picture of the
wwf Titanic.
This was the iceberg that literally sunk it for me. Even the band that played till the bitter end on the legendary cruise ship wouldn’t have been able to find harmony on this one — they would have been pushing the women and children aside to be the first to jump off the ship.

Right around the corner from my office on the second floor of Titan Tower was the costume department, where this woman, whose name now escapes me, would work-up drawings of concepts for new wwf characters.

Rummaging through her office when she wasn’t there was a great way for me to keep up with what creative ideas they had in store for the poor, innocent, unsuspecting fans. At the time there was a character running around the Federation by the name of “Who.” “Who” was Jim “the Anvil” Neidhart under a mask — but nobody was supposed to know that. Bruce once explained to me that Who was supposed to be some sort of cheap-shot directed at Hulk Hogan, who was then with wcw. To this day I fail to see the connection — but then again, Bruce may have seen many things that other people couldn’t see. Anyway, Bruce continued on with the character “Who” to mainly entertain himself. The real joke was, however,
nobody else
was getting it!
But that wasn’t bad enough. As I’m sifting through drawings on the designer’s desk, I come across a sketch for Who’s tag 191

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team partner —
What?
Ah, Bud and Lou would have been proud!

More than anything else, this should represent just how far apart the two companies were at the time. The wcw was doing Hall and Nash, “the Outsiders,” and we were doing Who and What — the Bumble!@#$. There’s no doubt in my mind that Who and What would have appeared on television if the landscape hadn’t changed.

Then, when the rating had collapsed to a 1.5 — Vince would have been saying, “What!” and Bruce would have been answering, “Who?

Not me.”

• • •

Prior to leaving the wwf, regardless of who will admit to what behind the scenes, the “Kliq,” a.k.a. Shawn Michaels, Kevin Nash and Scott Hall, were running the wwf. In my opinion, Vince had little or no control of his locker room. Bruce made it known to me that he despised these three individuals, primarily because they thought of, and treated him like a joke. When Nash and Hall left for the greener pastures of wcw, it should have been a blessing. And it many ways it was — the locker room was better anyway. The problem was, Vince needed to create new stars — and it was almost like he’d forgotten how. Don’t take that the wrong way — in the ’80s, Vince was a star-making machine, but this was the ’90s. The formula had changed . . .

and Vince didn’t have the new one.

I had to chuckle when Vince recently brought Hall and Nash back to the wwf. My, how we forget.

Let’s call a spade a spade. I never, not for one day, enjoyed working with Scott Hall. From the minute I met Scott, he was difficult to deal with. Whether he was just kidding or that “was just him,” it was a chore. The guy just liked to make your job harder — plain and simple. Now that’s okay once in a while, but with Scott it was
all the time
.

The sad part about it was that when you finally got Scott to do what you wanted him to do, he was without a doubt one of the best in the business. Unfortunately, those times were rare — for me, anyway.

Regardless of what anybody tells you, Scott could turn it on and 192

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off. The reason I say that is because when I saw him around kids, Scott was a different person. He acted as a hero to them — I saw it in person when he took some time with my own nephew many years ago.

Around a child who only knew him as a star, Scott lived up to the billing of “hero.” But when I worked with Hall he chose to be difficult, primarily because he saw it as part of his gimmick. Still, even though I don’t know Scott well, I believe, inside, he has a heart of gold.

Kevin Nash? He’d drive Freud nuts. The guy is one of the greatest manipulators I’ve ever seen. And I’m not saying that in a negative way. Kevin is street-smart, probably more street-smart than anyone I’ve ever met. He can read people . . . and own people. Combine his mental ability and his physical presence, and Nash is an imposing force. Many people are intimidated by him — Kevin knows that, and he enjoys it. The guy is just so sharp. You see, wrestlers usually speak before they think, but not Kevin. His mind is always working, always playing a game of chess with you. I always admired him for that. I guess I admired it because I was onto it and just loved to watch him at work. Kevin would eat the Bruce and Jim Ross’s of the world for lunch in one bite. That’s why they were smart to just stay out of his way.

Kevin takes a lot of undeserved criticism from those claiming to be in the know. They accuse him of being the best politician in the locker room. I can tell you firsthand — Kevin is no politician — he just uses his mind to play the game better than everybody else. Kevin also takes criticism from those same “smart marks,” simply because he tells them where they can go, rather than kissing up to them like so many others.

If I have one criticism of Kevin, it’s that at times he can be moody.

When he’d show up for work I never knew which Nash I was going to be dealing with. But at the time I was also probably one of the mood-iest guys you’d ever meet. But I just want to say this about Kevin Nash: when he worked for wcw — he did
everything
I ever asked him to do, period. Yeah, many times he screwed with you before he did it, but that’s just Kevin. And another thing that separated him from the pack: he’s one of the most devoted fathers I’ve ever met. Kevin Nash 193

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would do anything in the world for his son, and he puts him above almost everyone. It’s rare in this business.

There’s a difference between “money” and “business.” The majority of guys in wrestling will do
anything
for the almighty buck —

regardless of what they have to sacrifice. Not Kevin — he’d sit home for the next 10 years if he didn’t get the money on his business terms.

Kevin Nash would never deprive his own flesh and blood to headline just one more WrestleMania, or for one more paycheck, or just to shine in that glamorous spotlight. Unlike others, none of that ever meant anything to him. It was always about business. You know, it’s ironic, but for a wrestling fan watching week after week, the way Kevin comes across on television you would think the guy had a Madonna-like ego. But the reality of it is — he has none. I never realized how little ego Kevin had until I just thought about it now.

So for those who would bury Kevin on a personal level, it’s only because you don’t know him. And, for those who’d bury him on a professional level — yeah, you may know him, but you also know you’re not smart enough to beat him.

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CHAPTER 36

THE PHONE CALL THAT

COULD HAVE ALTERED HISTORY

Amy posed the question to me when we were lying in bed, “Vin . . .

are you ever going to be happy?”

My immediate answer? “Yeah, when I’m dead.” The truth is, I haven’t been happy for more than two decades. The last time I can literally remember being happy was during my college years. Since graduation, life has sucked — the whole journey has sucked. Oh, there have been some high points — my kids being born, the Giants going to the World Series in ’89, but aside from that, life has blown. I’m telling you, looking back, I never thought it would be this hard, this unenjoyable —
never
. Sometimes it just seems to go from bad to worse. When does it get easy? When will I find peace with myself? Oh, don’t give me that religious B.S. Yes I believe in God, yes I find peace in God, but right now, God isn’t putting 70 hours a week into this business —
I am!

Bono says it best, “I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.” The 195

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only problem is that after 41 years on this earth I still don’t know
what
I’m looking for! All I know is I’m not happy. There’s something missing. Sometimes it scares the hell out of me that it could all end abruptly, and that maybe I’ll never find that peace within myself.

Then again, maybe that peace is on the other side — I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to bring you down, but the grind sucks.

Those last few lines sum up this entire book . . . this entire journey. Never mind you, the reader — for me to sit here and see first-hand my feelings, my thoughts, my emotions from two short years ago; to experience once again the loneliness, the depression, the despair, the reaching out. . . .

And what’s most mind-blowing are my comments about religion and God. Why did I even bring that up? Who’d said anything about God, or religion? That’s what I mean when I talk about the subconscious. God was there all along, he walked every step, spoke every word, felt every emotion and waited . . . and waited, and waited.

At the point of that last log entry, I hadn’t yet hit rock bottom. What was happening was that I was becoming more and more aware of my situation — not being happy, not feeling fulfilled — and trying to fill a void with no idea how. Without me even knowing it, my words were a plea to God. I was talking to him indirectly, but that’s not the way he wanted it.

In order for me to be blessed, I had to talk to him man-to-man, face-to-face. I had to ask for my salvation, my forgiveness. I had to thank him —

but most importantly, I had to glorify his name. At that point in my life I just wasn’t there.

But in time . . . I would be.

Before I get into “the phone call,” there’s one other thing I need to hit on, another bone that was thrown my way — Vic Venom. I created Vic Venom strictly for the
wwf Magazine
. You see, Vic was the kind of wordman who would basically say whatever was on his mind, regardless of the circumstances. Make no bones about it — Vic Venom and Vicious Vincent were one and the same. During my

“everything sucks” period at Titan I had a meeting with Vince where 196

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I brought up the newest show on usa,
Live Wire
. Again, I gave Vince my honest opinions on the show — and they weren’t pretty. At the time the show was hosted by Sunny and wplj New York’s dj, Todd Pettengill. To be honest, I wasn’t a big fan of Pettengill, simply because I felt that he wasn’t a wrestling fan. He was a radio dj doing a wrestling show. Nothing against Todd personally, but I took offense to that. In my view, a wrestling show should be hosted by a wrestling guy. So I took my concerns to Vince. Well, much to my surprise, the boss challenged me by saying, “Why don’t you do the show?” Now keep in mind, at that point I had never even been on television. But that didn’t matter to me — I wasn’t afraid of the notion. So that Saturday morning, I went down to the television studio and I appeared on
Live Wire
.

Yeah, it was my debut on television, but it was no big deal — I just wanted to make the show better. Under the moniker of Vic Venom, they seated me in a studio separate from Sunny and Todd, and when the red light came on I did my thing. On the air, I told Todd where it was, where it is and where it’s going. With rapid fire, I threw verbal bomb after verbal bomb his way. As I continued the assault, I could see the collar around his neck getting tighter and tighter. Man, he was getting hot, but what was he going to do? I loved this business, and at the time, right or wrong, I felt this guy was clearly in it just for himself and the money. I went on to do a couple of shows with Sunny and Todd — that is, until I po’d Vince.

Remember I told you Bret Hart made a public decision on
Raw
that he was staying with the wwf? Well, soon after that, the Royal Rumble was coming up. You and I both know how predictable wwf booking was at the time — Bret was going to win the Royal Rumble, no doubt about it. So that was my prediction on
Live Wire
. The scare-crow from
The Wizard of Oz
would have guessed the same. If I had said anything different, I would have looked like a buffoon. Well, Vince was in the studio that morning. As I walked off the set, there he was waiting for me. By the veins protruding from his neck, I knew he wasn’t happy.