Forgiven: One Man's Journey from Self-Glorification to Sanctification (39 page)

Also, let’s not forget the wwf rookies. My passion was working with the young guys and helping them create characters that would one day 279

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become the foundation of the company. This is what it was all about for me — creating something from scratch and watching your project explode before your very eyes. Back then we were working a lot of new guys into the mix: Edge (Adam Copeland), Christian (Jay Reso), Gangrel (David Heath), Matt and Jeff Hardy (who I had to beg Vince to hire), Test (Andrew Martin), Droz (Darren Drozdov) and my favorite

— Sean Morley, a.k.a. Val Venis.

Next to Goldust, Val Venis was my favorite creation. Usually when I would come up with a character for somebody, I would look at interviews they would do at the training facility and something would just come to me. With Sean all I could think of was, “Man, this guy looks sleazy.” The porn star was born. Val’s early vignettes were some of my best work. The guy was over before the fans ever even saw him work. In my opinion, Val would have been a
huge
wwf star, but again, outside pressure forced Vince to kill the character. Sure, he has since re-launched it, but like Goldust, it will never be the same.

Little-known fact: we used porn princess Jenna Jameson in some of Val’s early vignettes. Vince refused to air them, stating that Jenna looked “horrifying.”

It wouldn’t be right if I didn’t also point out two of the most underrated stars in the company during my tenure as head writer.

“Old-timers” Pat Patterson and Gerald Brisco brought tears of laughter to my eyes on many occasions. Working those guys into the story lines was a treat, and those hams loved every minute of it. Man, they were spectacular. I will forever remember the motto, “Brisco’s Body Shop — It’s Worth the Drive.” Now
that
is classic.

Recently, I thought it was horrible when the current writing team attempted to turn Kurt Angle and Steve Austin into two bumbling idiots. With Patterson and Brisco it was tailor-made — they
were
two bumbling idiots — but Austin and Angle? Steve Austin
spent
nearly five years being the toughest sob on the face of the planet — and now all of a sudden he’s an idiot wearing a cowboy hat? How did that happen? Where’s the logic? Where’s the “reality?” The answer is simple, there is none and that’s part of the problem. I’ll go into it more later.

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Everybody pitched in — props to all. I know there are some guys

— and gals — I’m forgetting, and I apologize. Everybody had a hand in the success of the wwf, from the cameramen to the pyro guy to Kevin Dunn’s entire crew — Chris, David, Kerwin, Adam, Terry, Jen and Sue — and a host of others, all the way down to Richie. But before I get to “the Wonder Boy” himself, there’s just one thing I’d like to add. There was literally no one in the entire company I didn’t like

—
no one
. Now don’t get me wrong, at times I hated people, but by the end of the day there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have done for any of them. I’m sure there are those who can’t say the same about me —

but that’s fine. You see, I got most of my heat with the boys when I told them what I felt was the truth about their characters to their face.

Some appreciated that, some just didn’t get it. Let’s call a spade a spade: Goldberg hates me, Hogan hates me, Bradshaw hates me, Bischoff hates me, Piper hates me, and I’m sure many others stand in that line. But if they’re going to hate me for being honest with them

— I can live with that. Understand, my job was thankless and it was impossible to make everybody happy. The hardest part was just looking the talent in the eye and telling them what your true thoughts and opinions were. That’s not easy to do, and it’s not easy to take. But I’ll tell you what — I’d rather have a stand-up guy tell me to my face,

“No, that’s not going to work,” than have him go around and not have the spaldings to live up to his responsibility. In the long run I was just trying to help them. But as the old saying goes — the truth hurts.

Today, a lot of those guys I mentioned rip me in the dirt sheets and on the internet. But that’s fine with me. Again, I can look myself in the mirror and know that I was a stand-up guy who never screwed anybody and treated everyone with the utmost respect.

I’ve got to backtrack on the respect thing. There was this one time when Shawn Michaels was backstage at a pay-per-view stirring it —

and stirring it good. I became so frustrated that when Billy Gunn said something I perceived as wrong — I told him to go !@#$ himself. As soon as the words left my mouth I knew I had screwed up. You just don’t disrespect the boys that way — and it was one of the few times 281

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I spoke without thinking. I thought the Road Dog was going to lay into me — he was hot. Thank God, by the end of the day we all kissed and made up. But that’s the way it was. As dysfunctional as the family got, we were just that, a family. . . . Maybe.

Now, about Richie. It was guys like Richie Posner — somebody you’ll never hear or read about, that made the wwf
great
. Richie, I don’t think he even had a title, was the “Gimmick Guy.” You wanted a rubber sledgehammer that looked real, you went to Richie. You wanted a disappearing-corpse casket, you went to Ritchie. You wanted a trap door beneath the ring, you went to Richie. You wanted a female French poodle who could bark in German, Richie would find the pooch. This guy was a magician — he was literally a magician, he could pull rabbits out of hats, the whole thing. You don’t realize what somebody like Richie is worth until you don’t have a go-to guy like that anymore. When I went to wcw and was looking for my Richie —

I got instead four misfits who couldn’t hang a box from a pole without it falling in the middle of the match. There is no doubt that Richie, and Kevin Dunn, were the two mvps behind the scenes.

One unforgettable high spot? Richie was responsible for “gimmicking” a table (rigging it so it would break on impact) that Vince was going to take a bump onto — from a 10-foot high steel cage.

Understand the pressure on the poor slob? This was the first big bump the boss was going to take, and Richie had to make sure that not only did it look good, but that Vince wouldn’t get hurt. Richie rigged the table, and you know he did it right — the guy did everything right. Well, Vince took the bump and rather than fall onto the table, he fell onto the edge. . . . The table didn’t break and Vince ended up in agony — though he wouldn’t dare let anyone know it.

When Vince came into the back, he ran into Richie. Vince was adamant, telling Richie that he didn’t rig the table right. Keep in mind that a lot of the boys were around, and Vince wasn’t about to take the blame for his own miscalculation. Now picture this. Here’s Richie, about five-foot-nothing and maybe —
maybe —
150 pounds.

The guy had a Larry Fine haircut and always wore Hawaiian shirts.

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He was a walking, talking gimmick. As Vince began to reprimand him, the gimmick guy, without knowing any better said, “No, Vince

— everything was set up properly, you just landed in the wrong place.” You could see Vince’s face turn red. And remember, there was an audience.

“No, I didn’t,” said Vince through his teeth. “You gimmicked it wrong.”

“No,” said Richie matter-of-factly, “you landed wrong.” At that point Vince didn’t know what to say. I just wanted to tell Richie to get out of Dodge and go build something.

That night after the show, a few of us went out to eat with Vince, as we usually did. You had to see him try to sit down. It was hard not to laugh, but then Vince was laughing himself. A few days later, Vince showed me a picture of his butt and to this day it was the most horrendous sight I have even seen. It was like a black-and-blue giant plum. It was grotesque. But Vince never sold the pain he was in — never.

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Chapter 48

RIDDLE ME THIS

This chapter is dedicated to the only person who survived the “Vince Russo Experience” through the trials and tribulations of both the wwf and wcw.

Bill Banks may not be a household name, but he is no doubt the glue that keeps the fragile world of professional wrestling together.

Bill is every cliché you can imagine — the “go-to” guy, the guy “in the trenches,” the “give it to Bill, he’ll do it” guy. Even though he’s gone unheralded — until now — Banksie is the kind of guy you realize is invaluable, the day after he leaves.

At the ripe age of 20, Banksie started with me as an intern at the
WWF Magazine
. With “unique” looks, I compare him to that lovable sloth from the
Goonies
, Banks was a workhorse who would do whatever you asked of him, whenever you asked him. He was
always
working — perhaps even more than I was. But aside from being a workaholic, Banksie had a few other . . . um . . . problems. The first one 284

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being that when you embarrassed the guy, his Spock-like ears would turn redder than Santa’s suit. Now picture the contrast of “ears-o’-fire” to the rest of his face, which sported a flat, milk-like complexion. You get the picture — not a pretty sight! On top of that, there was his attitude. Banks was so negative, that he earned the name “Mr. Nego” after only a few months on the job. But the best thing about Banks was that he was the perfect victim for a practical joke.

Here’s my favorite.

Having just started on the job, Banksie had an office just 25 feet across the hall from me at Titan Tower so I could make sure he would

“stay out of trouble.” Halloween was upon us, and with the help of former wwf stickman Kevin Kelly, we pulled what might have been the greatest prank in the history of the Tower. Of course the victim was Bill Banks.

Next to the television facility at Titan, there is a daycare center where workers can bring their kids, appropriately called “Titan Tots.” Well, every Halloween, the tots get dressed in their costumes and come over to the tower for sweet, teeth-rotting treats. With Bill still new to the job, I told him the day before Halloween that it was Titan tradition that all employees dress up in full costume when the kids come for their goodies. Banks may have been a bit skeptical, but he became a believer when he picked up Kevin Kelly for work the next day and Kevin had his Halloween costume in a brown paper bag . . .

or so Banks thought.

Now, some time around noon, Kevin Kelly calls my office to kick the prank into full gear. After I hang up with Kevin (remember, Banks was close enough to hear the phone ring), I told Bill the call had been from the receptionist on the first floor and the kids were on their way up. It was time for all of us to put on our costumes. With that, Banks got up from his desk and shut his office door to change. Once the door was secure I darted down the hall and corralled everybody from their offices. Once the mob was gathered we walked to Banks’ office and opened the door. And there he sat in all his glory — The Riddler, question marks and all! Banksie had donned full Frank Gorshin regalia, 285

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from head to toe — including the purple mask. I thought the redness was going to explode from his ears! Can you imagine the humiliation?

There we are in our formal working attire, and there he was looking to take over Gotham City! Man, we showed no compassion.

But all kidding aside, Bill was a guy I was really tough on. I would always tell him that my tough love was an effort to make him learn and understand the wrestling business, but the truth was I was usually taking the frustrations of the job out on him. To Bill’s credit, he took everything I dished out — that’s how much he loved wrestling.

People like Bill Banks are few and far between — but I can tell you right now, without people like him holding up and supporting the circus, the big top wouldn’t be what it is. Without Bill doing this and Bill doing that, the dogs barking the orders would have to fend for themselves — and believe me, that would be a very ugly sight.

Thanks, Bill — you will never be forgotten.

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Chapter 49

THE GAME

“The Game.”

I gave Hunter that moniker and I cringe every time I hear JR

scream it. Man, if I was paid royalties, I’d be living in San Francisco, retired and sitting in Pac Bell watching a Giants game right now. So many characters were my creations — their look, their name, their catch phrases. But, getting back to Hunter, all I ever gave him was the name, “the Game.” Because in my opinion he was.

There is nobody more deserving of success in the sports entertainment business today than Paul Levesque, a.k.a. Hunter Hearst-Helmsley. Everything that Hunter has, he has because of Hunter.

There isn’t, and never will be, a harder worker.

I was with the wwf when Triple H worked his first match. I was even there when the brilliant writers made him wrestle in pig poop.

When I first saw Triple H, nothing really stood out. But once I began working with him, his gift was obvious — he had heart. Hunter was 287

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determined to be a major force and was willing to do whatever it took. When I first started working with him, I wrote all his promos

— you remember the ones, where he had a different rich girl on his arm every time you saw him. But it wasn’t working — not because he couldn’t do it, but because he was uncomfortable doing it . . . it wasn’t him. But again, that’s what the boss wanted. When Vince gave you a character you never questioned it. There was always this perception that Vince was a star-maker. There’s some truth to it, about half of the time. The other half, you had Golga. But again, that’s not a shot at Vince — simply a comment on the odds of sports entertainment.