Countdown To Lockdown (7 page)

But, I had another world to retreat to. A place I still visit from time to time. A place reserved for big guys in tights who pretend to fight. A place where one guy in tights can think of ways to tell that other guy in tights what’s going to transpire when they finally meet up … and pretend to fight. I know the place well. Some of you might have enjoyed the trip you took there with me in
The Hardcore Diaries.
And after a three-year hiatus, I’m going back. Back to Promoland!

March 23, 2009

Washington, D.C.

2:40 a.m.

I’ll admit it. I was a little nervous about seeing Linda McMahon. I’ve been a USO volunteer since November 2003, when I made my first trip to the Walter Reed Army Medical Center to visit American troops wounded in the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan. I really thought my first visit would be my last, but I felt inspired by that first visit, feeling
as so many do who visit with our injured troops — that I’d gotten so much more out of my visit than I’d actually given. And so I continued going — every month for a couple of years, every few months in the years that followed.

I was never completely sold on the logic behind going to war in Iraq, but nonetheless, I had the deepest admiration for the men and women who willingly put themselves in harm’s way, doing what our country asked of them. Probably because I wanted to be a soldier or marine for the longest time, wearing my hair in a crew cut back in the late seventies and early eighties, when literally no one else in school did, visiting military recruiters every year from age seventeen to twenty, even holding out a distant dream of being an officer and a gentleman, just like Richard Gere. I guess you could say that I turned out to be neither. So, while I never did serve my country in uniform, I did get my applications to West Point and Annapolis rejected.

It really wasn’t until I was a sophomore in college that I gave up the dream, realizing that the military look just wasn’t going to work with the new look I was working on. You know, the look I have now. The same look I’ve had since late 1985, with the exception of a mid-2000 buzz cut, when I thought I would never, and I mean
never
, be in the public eye again. I think I cut it again sometime in 2002, but those haircuts were just two bumps in an otherwise smooth twenty-four-year road of unkempt, unchanging, completely unflattering long hairstyles.

Despite this lack of military style, I have been thoroughly embraced by the USO and in the process have met luminaries and dignitaries, four-star generals and secretaries of defense, senators and congressmen, celebrities and journalists. And, of course, I’ve met so many fine young men and women, people I’ve talked with and laughed with, held hands with and prayed with, all the while learning lessons about perseverance and bravery, honor and dignity, and a loyalty to country that someone like me, who’s never served, will never be able to completely comprehend.

I have been a part of the annual USO gala every year, save one,
since my first in 2004. So, I’ve been to five of the past six, breaking out the tux every year, except for the one year when I just simply forgot it was black tie and never did grasp how underdressed I was until photographic evidence showed what appeared to be a large man in an ill-fitting sports coat, sporting the always-winning combo of sweatpants and work boots.

WWE has been a part of the gala for the past several years. In 2004, they were awarded the first Legacy of Hope Award (named in honor of the legendary comedian Bob Hope), in recognition of all the time and effort WWE had put in on behalf of the troops. On that night five years ago, I gave the acceptance speech, quite an honor given that Triple H, Batista, and Linda McMahon were there with me on the stage accepting the award on behalf of the company.

Even during the years before I “officially” rejoined WWE in 2006, I was always kind of with them when it came to these types of things. This would be the first year that I would clearly be not “kind of” with them. In fact, I wouldn’t be with them at all. Which presented a potentially awkward scene — WWE would be presenting the Legacy of Hope Award to the NFL Alumni Association while I would sit there and watch as WWE history was conveniently reinvented.

So, like I said, there was the potential for a little awkwardness. A few weeks ago, I had asked the USO who would be there from WWE.

Gary Davis, they said. That was cool; I’d known and worked with Gary for years — had even gone to China with him a couple years ago. Ken Anderson would be there, too. Hey, I like Ken, and I’ve always hit it off with him. Much to my daughter Noelle’s embarrassment, Ken had reminded Noelle that her favorite word during the filming of
Beyond the Mat
, when she was three and four years old, had indeed been
nipples.

A couple of years ago, Ken and I had the opportunity to tour Walter Reed with then Miss America Jennifer Berry. Jennifer was real cool, couldn’t have been nicer, and even let me hold her crown while on the bus ride over to the hospital.

The Polaroid camera is a ubiquitous (there’s a good SAT word) presence on these hospital visits; a photo is taken in every room visited. One time, I arrived for my visit just a day after Al Snow had toured the hospital and spotted many a prestigious Al Snow Polaroid gracing the bottoms of garbage cans throughout the premises. I know Polaroid went bankrupt a few years ago, but the USO must have stockpiles of film somewhere, as the photos are always around.

On this day, however, our USO guide was briefly delayed, as Ken, Jennifer, and I found ourselves in the room of a wounded soldier, the Polaroid camera in Jennifer’s possession. I
think
I know what she
meant
to say. Something like “Mick, why don’t you take a photo of me with this soldier, and then I will take a photo of this soldier with the two of you?”

Once again, that’s what I
think
she
meant
to say. What Miss America actually said was this: “Mick, why don’t you do me first, and then I’ll do both of you at the same time?” Ken, the soldier, and I just looked at each other, startled, not knowing exactly what to say. This was, after all, a suggestion from Miss America. Fortunately, we opted not to say anything, not even a sophomoric
whoa ho ho
or a Hank Kingsley–like
Hey now!
, opting instead to let Miss America grasp the weight of her own words.

“You know,” Jennifer finally said. “I’m not sure that came out the way I wanted it to.”

Then we chimed in with all that sophomoric stuff: “Whoa ho ho, hey now,” etc.

So, yeah, despite the fact that we worked for different companies, Ken and I, having shared a male bonding moment like no other, were going to be cool.
^*

Anyone else? I asked the USO.

Linda McMahon, they said.

Ouch, that one could sting a little. I’d always had the deepest respect for Linda, as a businesswoman, as a mother, as a person. Darn it, she’d been in my corner at
WrestleMania 2000
, my retirement
match after my other retirement match, before I un-retired four years later. But I really didn’t know what I’d say to her. I knew she’d be at the cocktail reception for some of the special guests a little later in the evening … and I had no idea what I would say.

It was in the back of my mind all day, from my flight into Baltimore, to my ride into D.C., to my attempting to play wheelchair basketball with some of the outpatients, who knew their way around the court a whole lot better than I did.

I arrived fashionably late for the reception, wondering what I might say, dreading the thought of trying to piece together a conversation with someone who had been such a big part of my past. Okay, maybe that sounds a little dramatic, because I didn’t know Linda all that well, despite the fact that she’d been in my corner at ’
Mania
, but nonetheless, she is a major part of WWE, which had been a major part of my life — ergo, Linda was a big part of my life!

I walked into the room. Thankfully, no Linda. Over in the corner was my security blanket, the guy I would cling to emotionally to get through this trying time. Rick Yarosh, as fine a man as you’re likely to meet anywhere. I met Rick a year ago, when he and
The Daily Show
’s Jon Stewart laid a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.
^*

Rick had suffered incredible burns following an explosion in Iraq in September 2006. His nose and both ears were gone, several fingers had been incinerated, and even after dozens of major operations, his face was still a mask of scars, a document to suffering I can’t even begin to gauge.

But within a few minutes of meeting him last year, he put us all at ease. We no longer saw him for his scars, but rather for his laugh, his easygoing manner, his infectious optimism, and his love for life. I’ll never forget that day with Rick and Jon: touring Arlington National Cemetery, getting a behind-the-scenes tour of the Tomb, making
a vow to myself that I would never again complain about the little things in life. A vow I kept for almost a day.

So there I was, the Hardcore Legend, clinging to Rick and his mom and dad, hoping they’d protect me from that big bad Linda.

I started to relax. I talked with Al Franken (now Senator Al Franken) and his wife, Franni, for several minutes. Senator Kay Hagan from North Carolina stopped by for a few minutes as well. I even shared a story with actress Renée Zellweger. (Man, is this good name-dropping stuff, or what?) I mistook actress Leeann Tweeden for the current Miss America, an error she gently corrected me on after about the seventh time I made it.

“You know, I don’t think I am who you think I am,” she said.

“You’re not?”

“No, I’m not Miss America.”

“Wow, that’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, a big smile on her beautiful Danish/Filipino (what a great combination) features. “As far as mistakes go, that’s a pretty flattering one.”

By the end of the night, Leeann and I would be pretty good buddies.

Uh-oh, there she is. Coming toward me. Linda. What will I say?

“Hi, Linda.” Good one, Mick.

“Hello, Mick,” she says.

And we share a little hug. All in all, the meeting with Linda went pretty well, and all that trepidation seemed unwarranted. Keep that word
trepidation
in mind — I’ll get back to it.

I told Linda about a nice surprise I’d received a few days earlier. Where a fan had asked me to sign a big coffee-table book, a
WWE Encyclopedia
, which had a two-page spread of me in it. I looked through the book. Not too many guys getting the two-page spread. Only the really big shots: Steve Austin, the Rock, Hulk Hogan, Undertaker, Triple H, Shawn Michaels, a few more, but not too many. I looked at the front of the book, inside page three, looking for a publication date, figuring 2006, 2007. I was momentarily stunned to see
the number 2009, meaning that the book had been published several months after I’d left. Certainly, if he’d wanted to, Vince could have personally pulled (or reduced) my spread, kind of like he’d done with the
SmackDown vs. Raw
and
Legends of WrestleMania
video games. To be honest, given the choice, I would have preferred to have been shut out of the book and kept in the games, as those video game royalties can be significant. Still, I had to admit that being given such a spread in the
WWE Encyclopedia
was a very pleasant surprise.

“To be honest, Linda, I thought I’d get a postage-stamp-type layout.”

Linda smiled, knowing, I think, that I was sincere. You don’t get as far as Linda McMahon has in the wrestling business, or in life, without being able to spot insincerity a mile away.

“Mick, you were a very big part of our company,” she said. “You deserve to be recognized in that book.”

Bam.
Just like that, all the tension disappeared. I hung out. I enjoyed the night. So what if I was introduced to the gala audience immediately after Rick’s incredible list of heroics had been rattled off? From a standing O to a polite smattering of applause in a matter of moments.

Even watching Ken and Linda present the award I’d once accepted didn’t feel all that awkward. Besides, I later learned that Elaine Rogers, the president of USO Metro Washington, had asked WWE if they were cool with me being there. I don’t know if WWE would have the power to bump me from the event, but they sure could have made things a lot more difficult. But Elaine assured me it was never a problem, that WWE knew how big a deal volunteering for the USO was to me.