I had met Show when I was still in Louisville, and we
didn’t exactly hit it off right away. He pissed Vince or
someone off because he was not in shape, and they sent him
down to the developmental squad as a punishment. He was
a giant of a man, seven feet tall and five-hundred-plus
pounds, but Vince wanted his wrestlers to “look good.” No
one pays to see a couple of fat guys roll around the mat.
So I first met Show when I was in Louisville to learn the
business, and I was taking everything seriously. I wanted to
get called up to the main roster and the bigger paydays as
soon as I could. When Show got demoted to Louisville, he
looked at the guys training there like everyone was a maggot
or something. He was all grumpy right from the get-go
because he had to lose some weight, and everyone in camp
was afraid of him. Everyone but me.
I wasn’t afraid of Show, even if he did have almost a
foot and two-hundred-some pounds on me, and I let him
know it one day. We were in practice, and we got into the
ring. He thought I was just another dumb jock greenhorn
who was going to be intimidated by him, but I dropped him
to the mat with a double leg takedown, and he was crying
uncle. I kept the pressure on him because I didn’t like the
way he thought he was so much better than all the guys
down there. I earned his respect that day, and I had no
problem doing it either.
Another day, he was bullying everyone around, and I
decided to bully him back. He got mad at me and told me,
“I’ll be back up in the main events, making millions, and
you’ll still be down here in Louisville setting up the ring.”
When I got to the big time, I decided to remind Show of
our little incidents in Louisville. As soon as I had to work
with Show, I waited until the time was right and I said,
“Remember down in Louisville, when you said—”
He cut me right off there and said, “I know where you
are going with this, and fuck you!”
I still tortured the big bastard . . . and while I was doing
it, I taunted him a little more. “Hey, didn’t I take you down
in front of everyone, too?” I laughed. But I like Show,
because he turned out to be one of the best people you
could ever be around.
Hell, he cried when I told everyone I was going to leave
WWE. He’s just a super nice, sentimental guy, and he’s
trapped in that massive body. That can’t be easy. I know
when I was three hundred pounds of muscle, it was hard to
carry all that weight around. Imagine adding two hundred
pounds of not-so-lean mass on top of that, and nine or ten
more inches in height?
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Right before our match, Show came over to where I
was dressing, smoking a cigarette. That alone is funny,
because a cigarette in that huge hand looks like a cutoff
toothpick. I hate cigarettes, and he had to know that. After I
made him put the damn thing out, he said, “Let’s change the
match around tonight.”
We’re as far away from home as we can be. We might
as well be on the planet Mars. We knew the match. It was
easy. Why change it? Show got all upset with me, and he
kept saying over and over again, “I’m a veteran, I’m the
heel, I get to call the match!”
I couldn’t believe he was serious. OK, we were all
dealing with the stress from traveling halfway around the
world. Bad news for Show, though. I wasn’t in the mood
for his shit that night.
“Whatever you wanna do is fine with me,” I told the big
grump, “just call it out in the ring.”
So here’s this seven-foot-tall, five-hundred-pound giant,
and he’s mumbling to himself as he walks away from me.
It’s so funny when I think about it now, because Show is the
most likeable guy you’ll ever meet, but he had me ready to
kick his ass over in, of all places, South Africa!
Show was all huffy and puffy going out the ring,
determined to call the match the way he wanted it to go, but
as soon as I hit the ring, I snatched him and started
suplexing him all over the place. Show backed me into a
corner, and was going for a big chop across my chest, but I
ducked under and waist-locked him. Once my hands were
clasped, he had a pretty good idea about what was coming
next. I was going to pivot my hips and throw him anywhere
I wanted him to go. Show started screaming at me, “No no
no no no no no no no,” but I didn’t listen. I threw him
across the ring, and I can still hear the thud he made when
he landed!
Before he could get up, I ran across the ring, grabbed
him, and locked my hands around him again. He started
panicking: “Brock, what the hell are you doing? Wait wait
wait wait wait wait wait!” So I flung him around a few more
times. He learned his lesson.