Ted DiBiase (8 page)

With Dad's untimely death, Mom had no choice but to move the family
back to Willcox. Our budget was limited. Some of Dad's wrestling friends and family helped us out as best they could, as there was no way we could live on our own. So, with the help of some family and friends, we packed all our belongings and headed back to Grandma's house.

The next few months after Dad's death were a time of grief for me and my family. My mother, who had been drinking prior to Dad's death, had now become dependent on alcohol. She was devastated and wouldn't even leave the house. She didn't have a job, so she had nothing but time on her hands.

It was getting out of control. All she would do was lie around the house, drinking and smoking. Eventually, she developed emphysema and had to have her gall bladder removed. At the time, my grandmother had to raise John and me, and was doing all she could to pull my mother out of her depression. But nothing seemed to work.

One day, out of desperation, my grandmother made a phone call to the one and only person she thought could help: my biological father, Ted Wills. “Ted, Helen is in really bad shape. Nothing seems to help. I think you should come out here and visit with her. Maybe if she saw you, she might feel better.”

“Is that a good idea? Are you sure she wants to see me?”

Grandma added, “Ted, your son needs a dad.” She was worried about me.

A few weeks later, Ted returned to Willcox. His goal was to help lift my mother from her depression and reestablish a relationship with me. He accomplished the former but failed at the latter. Besides some sporadic weekend visits, cards, and a present every birthday and Christmas, I had very little interaction with Ted.

As for my mother, she was flattered that Ted had come back to help her, and she responded well to him. We were all happy when Mom would go out to eat with Ted or go for a walk. He was the best medicine for her. She was very lonely and she needed companionship and someone to take care of her. I think Ted came back because he always cared about me and my mom. A few months later, Ted and Mom remarried.

As for Ted and me, I must say, I was curious to see him again. We were very cordial to each other. I was very happy that he had expressed such concern for Mom. Here's the thing: as I got to know him, I thought he was a good
man and a nice guy. But I really didn't consider him my father. Mike DiBiase was my father, and nobody could ever take Mike's place.

After Mom and Ted remarried, they moved to Ted's place in Los Angeles with John. Ted had a good job with the television networks as a lighting technician. He worked the lighting on games and entertainment shows such as
The Dating Game
and
The Newlywed Game, General Hospital
, and
American Bandstand
. He made a very good living.

I guess they had expected that I would go with them, but I refused. The thought of living in Los Angeles didn't appeal to me at all. I just wanted to stay with my grandparents in Willcox. I was focused on working out and football. I really missed my mom and especially John. The irony of it was that John was headed off to be raised by my biological father, while I had just spent the last ten years being raised by his biological father.

Because of Grandma's help, I was able to attend the tenth grade at Willcox High School. If there was a place where I could regain my focus, it was on the football field. During every practice, I thought about my dad and remembered everything he had taught me. I channeled all my sadness into making him proud of me via football.

I was physically ready because of the time Dad had spent with me training the summer before. I was fifteen years old, stood six feet two inches tall, and weighed two hundred pounds. I was determined to be a success on the gridiron. I wasn't about to let him down. And I didn't. As a sophomore, I made the varsity football team, starting both as an offensive tackle and defensive tackle for the Willcox High Cowboys.

At the first game of the season, with tears running down my face, I spoke to my dad during the singing of the national anthem. “Dad, this game is for you. I know you are not physically here, but I know you're watching.” That day, I had my greatest individual performance ever in a football game: twelve unassisted tackles, a blocked punt, and a knocked-down pass—and I recovered a fumble for our victory. I didn't let Dad down and I knew he was proud of me.

For the rest of the season, I excelled on the football field and in every game. Besides my studies and working at my grandmother's café, football was all I lived for. I never lost sight of what Dad had taught me. My success produced
both accolades and jealousy. I went out on the field to be the best player I could and to help our team win. I was named to the All-Conference First Team, as well as an All-State Honorable Mention. However, we ended the season with a disappointing 3–7 record.

After the season ended, I became even more focused. I wanted to be better and worked out harder to attain a college football scholarship. I hit the weights and kept running. I joined the track-and-field team so I could throw the shot put in order to stay in shape. By then it had become common knowledge that I wanted to be the first student from Willcox High School to be offered a full football scholarship at an NCAA Division I university.

At the end of the school semester, when we recessed for Christmas, my focus was broken: in December of 1969, I met my first love. Dixie Lee Stow was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I met her while she was visiting family in Willcox. She lived in Casa Grande, Arizona, about 150 miles away. We spent the entire Christmas vacation together. Eventually she had to go home, but we were both madly in love with each other. Her parents were super nice and they treated me like family.

Dixie and I were both the same age, and not yet old enough to drive. So for the remainder of my sophomore year, we would talk on the phone every day for hours. During the various school breaks throughout the year, either I would go to her house or she would come to Willcox. If I wasn't working out or in the café, I was with Dixie.

Then, the summer before my junior year, I decided to take a part-time job as a lifeguard at the city pool. In between working at the café, workouts, and lifeguarding, the rest of my time was with and about Dixie. We were inseparable. Because of the relationship, my focus on football was negatively affected.

Not only was I madly in love, I could also talk to Dixie. Since the death of my father, I really hadn't had a person I could talk to like I could with him. We dated for a year and a half. Our long-distance relationship came to an end in the late summer prior to my senior year.

My junior year of high school was a dichotomy. I was in love with Dixie but also committed to playing football at a high level. My problem was that I wasn't accomplishing the latter. Dad had told me not to get serious about girls in high school: “Girls and athletics don't mix.” With Dad gone, my mother drinking, and Mike in the military, I was looking for affection. I yearned for someone. Dixie filled that void.

MIKE DIBIASE:

I couldn't believe that Ted was losing his focus. I was concerned about him blowing everything he had worked so hard for because of this girl. He would spend every available moment talking to, thinking about, and visiting with her. When he got his license, he took Grandma's car and drove almost every weekend to see Dixie some 150 miles away. What was even more unreal was that back in 1970, Ted was running up a phone bill in the neighborhood of three to four hundred dollars a month! I jumped all over Ted and tried to get him to stay focused. I even went as far as asking him what he would do if Dixie got pregnant. Ted basically said he had everything under control.

Ted also met my former army friend Robert “Abe” Lincoln. Abe befriended Ted and they took a liking to each other. Abe told Ted the same things I had stressed, but I guess since Abe wasn't his brother and his approach was slightly gentler, Ted opened up. Abe genuinely cared for Ted and got him to release lots of emotion. In the end, Abe told him to stay focused on football. It was time for him to get his mind off Dixie and back on football. Ted eventually broke up with Dixie prior to his senior year.

With Dixie on my mind and in my heart, my junior football season was mediocre. As a team, we did much better than the year before. We went 7–3. It was a relief to have a winning season. I played decent enough to have some standout games. I even received All-Conference honors. But it wasn't the level of football that I should have been playing at.

At Creighton Prep, we were a football powerhouse and one of the best schools in the state of Nebraska. It was a school steeped in tradition, and only the crème de la crème were recruited to attend. Every player's goal was to earn a scholarship at a major NCAA Division I school. At Willcox High, all the players wanted to do was to get a letter.

During my junior year, my grandfather died. He passed away around
Thanksgiving. I loved him dearly; he never complained a day in his life about anything. But one day he said to me, “Teddy, I think I need to go see a doctor. I had a rough night.” He was too old to drive, so I immediately drove him to the family physician. I waited anxiously while Grandpa was being examined. After about an hour, the doctor told me, “Ted, your grandpa has suffered a minor heart attack. He is still alive, but frankly, there is really nothing we can do for him right now. Take him home and watch him closely. If he has another bad night, bring him back in the morning.”

Grandpa had another restless night. He called me into the room and said, “Teddy, I think you need to take me to the hospital.” I freaked out. Grandpa got up, dressed on his own, and walked to the car.

He must have stayed in the hospital for about two weeks. Grandma stayed there with him. Every day after school I would visit him. I vividly remember seeing his feet—they were cold and purple. I asked the doctor what was wrong, and he told me that his blood wasn't properly circulating. Basically, he was wearing out. He was dying.

To make him more comfortable, I would rub his head and encourage him as much as possible. I would bring his electric razor to the room and shave him. I even tried joking with him a few days before Thanksgiving. I said, “Grandpa, you need to get out of this dang hospital bed. It's almost Turkey Day. There is going to be lots of food, and your favorite, pumpkin pie.”

Grandpa looked at me and in a matter-of-fact way, which sent a chill down my spine, said, “Teddy, in a couple of more days I am going to be in the cemetery with your dad.” Two days later Grandpa died. He was eighty-nine. It was a sad holiday season.

I put all my energy into football. That summer, I hit the weights, ran, and worked out hard. I was focused and reenergized. I had an outstanding summer practice and was fully prepared to have the season of my life. I was going to get a college football scholarship.

My determination to succeed and my skills on and off the field caused some jealousy among teammates and fellow classmates. As a lark, I was coerced by my friends to run for senior class president. After entering the race, I began to take it more seriously. With the jocks by my side, I was victorious.

I tried to be the leader on the team and I often challenged the other
players. Mitch Plough and some of my other teammates apparently didn't like my aggressiveness. Now that the newcomer was a standout on the football field and the senior class president, rumors started circulating: apparently Mitch and some others were talking behind my back. One day, I walked right up to him and said, “Look, if you have a problem with me, here I am. If you have something to say to me, say it to my face, or just shut up.” Mitch quickly backed down, and we would later become friends.

On the football field, my senior season was outstanding. Now at six-four and 225 pounds, I was blowing people off the line left and right, and was a terror on the defensive side of the ball. In the end, all my hard work paid off. I was personally recognized for my football accomplishments: First Team, All-Conference Offensive and Defensive Tackle; First Team, All-State Defensive Tackle; and the first Willcox football player invited to play in the All-State high school football game.

After football season, I focused on my studies and waited for track season to start so I could stay in shape. During Christmas break, I went to Los Angeles to spend the holidays with Ted, Mom, and John.

When classes started again in January, I was determined to work out harder than ever before. I believed that I had a good enough senior year in football to receive a college scholarship. And I was right.

One day, while I was in government class, trying to stay awake, I hid behind my friend Kathy Lindsey and tried to absorb the lecture. All of a sudden I heard over the loudspeaker, “Ted DiBiase, please report to the main office immediately.” Kathy turned around in concern and said, “What did you do?” I didn't have a clue.

As I opened the door to the principal's office, he energetically said, “Ted, please come in. There are some people here who are really interested in talking to you.” I introduced myself to three football coaches from the University of Arizona. After a few minutes of casual chit-chat, where they spoke highly of my football talents, one of the coaches said, “Ted, I have been sent here to ask you a question: Would you like to accept a full scholarship to play football at the University of Arizona?”

To say I was excited would be an understatement. I couldn't believe it. Without hesitation I accepted. I signed a conference letter of intent—meaning
I couldn't sign with any other team in the WAC (Western Athletic Conference). The press was there and the next day my picture was on the front page of the local paper.

As I left the principal's office and headed back to class, I was on cloud nine. I couldn't wait to tell all my family and friends. I thought it was poetic justice that the class I got called out of was a class of my immediate peers, some of whom doubted that I would accomplish my goal. When I got back to class, the teacher—who was also a football coach—asked, “So, what did you say?”