Ted DiBiase (12 page)

BILL WATTS:

I met Teddy when he was playing football at West Texas State. It was the last year that the University of Tampa had a football team. He didn't play in that game because he had gout. I remember teasing him about how in the world could a twenty-year-old already have gout!

Due to my injuries, I played on and off throughout the season. I played the entire season hurt. I was very disappointed: I had been all excited about being the starting tackle, but it didn't happen.

The season ended and I put even greater pressure on myself to get ready for spring football practice. I knew that I had to have a great spring practice to attain a starting position for my senior year. I worked out hard and overcame all my injuries.

Unfortunately, right at the start, I suffered another injury. As I planted my feet to block a defender, the offensive guard to my left was blocked into me in such a way that he fell onto me. As we both fell to the ground, I could feel his weight come down on my left knee. A sharp pain ran through my left ankle and knee. The doctors said that I had stretched the ligaments in the knee and severely sprained my ankle. It was unstable and loose, and I had to go to rehab to make sure my bones stayed in alignment and regained their normal range of motion. I started rehabilitation but never finished spring football practice.

One night after the matches, I had a conversation with Dick Murdoch. “Teddy, I have a great idea. Instead of you staying here refereeing, how about you find out if you really want to be in the professional wrestling business? Come to Louisiana this summer and wrestle.” I liked the idea, and because of the new NCAA rule, I was eligible to do it.

Dick was leaving the Amarillo territory and was headed to Bill Watts's Mid-South promotion. “Teddy, I'll talk to Bill Watts and get you in there. Wrestle this summer and see how it goes. You will make better money than anything else you can do.” I had met Bill Watts and was impressed, so I accepted Dick's offer. The plan was to wrestle all summer in the Mid-South territory and return to West Texas State to finish my senior year.

The next day, Dick Murdoch picked me up and took me to meet Bill Watts. On a handshake, I was working for Bill. Wanting to be like my dad, I wrestled as a heel that summer. I was the opening match every night.

My first match in the Mid-South was a televised match against Danny Hodge. I don't remember much, only that I was scared to death. Danny sensed it and said, “Just listen to me, kid, and you will do fine.”

Danny was one of the greatest amateur wrestlers our country has ever known. While at the University of Oklahoma, he won the NCAA title three times and went undefeated. He had a 46–0 record, with 36 pins.

At the end of the summer, I called Coach Mayfield and told him I wasn't coming back. I quit the football team.

When I returned to Amarillo, many of my friends urged me to return to school for my senior year. Even Terry and Dory Funk Jr. told me to stay in school. But I had a good feeling about being in the wrestling business. I felt very comfortable in the ring and I was making a decent living. I had no interest in going
back for my senior year and riding the bench the entire football season. Jaynet supported my decision. In September of 1975, we headed to Baton Rouge.

In hindsight, dropping out of college was one of the worst decisions I ever made. I regret it. Don't get me wrong, I love the wrestling business. But college was something that I started, and never finished. I failed to follow through on my goal.

TERRY FUNK:

I was against Teddy going into the business at that time. He had a full scholarship and I wanted him to finish his education. I saw the advantages of getting a degree. Teddy could have something to fall back on.

I always felt that Teddy leaving early had a lot to do with Dick Murdoch. Dick didn't see why it was necessary to have an education. He came out of the school of hard knocks and only wanted to be a professional wrestler. Dick was a great guy, teacher, and wrestler, yet he couldn't see anything beyond wrestling. Even though Teddy wanted to wrestle full-time, I suggested that he go back to West Texas for his final year.

Bill Watts was a very big and burly man and I was initially intimidated by him. He was very savvy and in full control of the task at hand. Bill reminded me of great football coaches—like Vince Lombardi and Bill Parcells—he would yell and scream, wanting the task to be done right. But he never challenged you out of hate or spite. He had high expectations and wanted everyone to improve and learn.

BILL WATTS:

I knew Teddy's father very well. Mike was incredibly classy and I had the utmost respect for him. Because of our relationship, I already had
a soft place in my heart for Teddy. Since Teddy came from a wrestling family, I gave him the benefit of the doubt that he respected the business. And he did. He was a credit to the business.

The Mid-South wrestling territory was owned by Bill Watts and Leroy McGuirk. It encompassed the states of Mississippi, Louisiana, and Oklahoma. The major cities included Shreveport, Jackson, New Orleans, Tulsa, and Oklahoma City. Some of the smaller cities were Lafayette, Greenville, Fort Smith, Monroe, and Alexandria.

Bill was the promoter and booker. He had one of the greatest minds and understood the psychology of the business. Leroy was a former wrestler, but Bill pretty much ran the company. Mid-South had some of the biggest and toughest wrestlers in the business: Bill, Dick Murdoch, the Masked Assassin, the Spoiler, Stan Hansen, and Bob Sweetan. Eventually, Bill bought out Leroy.

In 1975, I was grossing roughly $350 week. It was just enough to pay my bills. There was no insurance, retirement, or health benefits. I was even responsible for all my expenses, including transportation, gas, and lodging. I easily put sixty thousand miles on my car that year. Some guys put on a whole lot more than that.

I was also responsible for my own meals. Back then, healthy eating was not a major concern. There was no emphasis on having a great body in professional wrestling. If you had a chiseled body, fine. You were a wrestler. You were supposed to be athletic and look the part. Everybody was different and it was important that you looked like your character. You were supposed to mirror society, so the fans could relate to you.

It was all about bulk eating and eating cheap. Chicken breast and a baked potato was not part of my diet. There was no time for fine dining. The boys and I would look for the cheapest and best buffets, as well as the local supermarkets to load up on bread and lunch meats. I remember many a night eating bologna sandwiches (bologna blowouts).

The Mid-South territory had a demanding schedule. I worked seven days a week. My weekly schedule started in Shreveport, Louisiana, on Saturday morning for TV tapings. I would then hop in the car and drive three
hundred miles to Greenville, Mississippi, for an evening match. To save money and wear-and-tear on vehicles, most guys carpooled. I would then spend the night with the boys in the cheapest hotel we could find. Sometimes we would sneak three or four guys into one hotel room. It was called “heeling.” We would “heel” the room. Two guys would sleep on the mattress and two guys on the box spring.

I would then get up early the next morning and drive another three hundred miles to Houma, Louisiana. I'd have to be there at least an hour before the show, so I'd grab some food and get a workout. After my match, I would drive another three hundred and fifty miles to Shreveport and spend the night. Then I would get up early in the morning and drive another three hundred and fifty miles to Tulsa, Oklahoma, and wrestle that night. The next morning, I would drive back to Shreveport. That routine would continue for months and seemed endless.

Every Saturday, Bill would give me my bookings. At the time, I was a curtain-jerker and would wrestle the first or second match every night. I was as green as the grass, so there was no need for me to be at the TV studio for Wednesday interviews. I still went to the studios in Shreveport as much as possible to watch. I watched and learned from “Killer” Karl Kox and Dick Murdoch. I wanted to gain as much knowledge as I could. The business was a brotherhood and I savored the camaraderie.

Since Dick Murdoch brought me into the company, I traveled and spent most of my time with him. My daily routine with Dick consisted of beer and more beer. After each show, we would stop and get a case. If there were four of us in the car, we would have two cases. It's amazing that no one got into any major accidents or received any DUIs.

Of all the towns we wrestled in the Mid-South territory, my favorite was New Orleans. I loved the shops, restaurants, people, and the bars. Murdoch asked me, “Have you ever been to New Orleans?”

“No.”

“Are you telling me you have never been to Bourbon Street? Oh, I have to take you to Bourbon Street.”

One night in New Orleans before the matches, Dick walked up to Grizzly Smith and pointed my way. “Griz, the kid has never been to Bourbon
Street. Do you mind if I borrow your car tonight to show the kid a good time? You can catch a ride back to Baton Rouge with one of the boys and we will meet up in the morning.” Without hesitation, Grizzly said, “Sure.”

Grizzly was Bill Watts's right-hand man. He was the company's match-maker and road agent. He was Bill's eyes and ears and was responsible for what happened at the event.

Grizzly is a great guy and a former wrestler. He was part of a successful tag team with Luke Brown known as the Kentuckians. He is also the father of professional wrestlers Jake “The Snake” Roberts, Sam Houston, and Rockin' Robin.

After the matches, we headed out to New Orleans in Grizzly Smith's 1974 yellow four-door LTD. Before we even got onto I-10, Dick pulled into a 7-Eleven and got a six-pack of beer. The first place Dick took me was the world-famous Felix's Restaurant and Oyster Bar. The restaurant was located in the heart of the French Quarter. It was a very crowded and noisy place. It was also where I was introduced to raw oysters.

Dick ordered a few dozen oysters and lots of beer. The oysters reminded me of snot and I wasn't too interested in eating them. But Dick educated me on how to do it properly: scoop it out of its shell, place it on a cracker, top it with horseradish and cocktail sauce, eat it, then wash it down with a cold beer. The cracker gave the oyster some texture, which made it easier to eat. I must have downed about a dozen.

After about an hour, Dick and I took a walk down Bourbon Street. We grabbed a few more beers and took in the sights. I was twenty-one years old, and I was overwhelmed by the town and excited by its energy.

Dick then took me to Pat O'Brien's on St. Peter Street. We walked through an old carriageway entrance and into one of the most magnificent restaurant bars I had ever seen. It was huge, with beautiful architecture, a piano bar, restaurant, and other amenities. Dick took me directly to the bar and ordered me their world-famous drink, the Hurricane. It's a sweet drink with a little fruit syrup and lots of rum. Dick and I must have drunk three or four before heading back to Bourbon Street. Before we left, I went to use the restroom.

I was standing at the urinal and that was when I started to feel green
about the gills. I was drunk. I staggered out of the restroom and walked up to Dick. “Dick, unless you want to carry me back to the car, I suggest we leave now.”

Laughing, Dick said, “Okay, kid, let's go home.” I later found out that Dick had known the bartender at Pat O'Brien's. After my first Hurricane, he had the bartender kick up the alcohol content on the next three.

As we headed back to the car, Dick and I saw all the hot dog carts along Bourbon Street. There must have been one on every corner, and Dick insisted that we stop at every one. We would stop at one and buy one with just mustard. We would then walk another block and get another with chili. A few more blocks and we would get one with cheese and onions, along with a cold beer to wash it down. Talk about gluttony.

We finally made it back to the car and headed to Baton Rouge. Dick was driving and country music was blaring on the stereo. I was trying to sleep but Dick kept waking me up. “Kid, don't let me fall asleep.” I kept dozing off, and Dick kept slapping me to keep me awake.

As you can imagine, summertime in New Orleans is very humid. That particular morning was no exception. The car didn't have an air conditioner, so we were sweating buckets when Dick asked me to “put on the 490 system.”

“Where and what is that?”

“Roll all four windows down and I'll do ninety!”

We had an eighty-five-mile drive in front of us. Dick was doing ninety miles an hour on the interstate. It was about two-thirty in the morning. As we crossed the expansion bridge over Lake Pontchartrain, we got a flat tire. We pulled off to the side of the road. Both of us got out and opened the trunk to get the jack and spare tire. We took the jack out and attempted to hook it to the bumper. It was dark and we didn't have a flashlight, so we couldn't see where to hook the jack to the slit in the bumper. We did our best. Somehow we managed to get the car elevated, and though it was wobbly, I took the hubcap off and started loosening the lug nuts. Dick yelled, “Get away from the car, it's about to fall.” I jumped back as the car fell off the jack, and as I did so, I hit the hubcap and all the lug nuts went flying onto the interstate.

There I was on my hands and knees crawling on I-10 looking for those
lug nuts. Dick kept yelling at me to get out of the road, and I'd holler back, “If we don't find the lug nuts, we're going to be here all night.”

“Get up and get over here! Somebody is coming.” I paid no attention because I was determined.

As I was crawling around, my eyes met two black shiny boots. I looked straight up and saw a badge. It was a Louisiana State Highway Patrolman. As he stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, he looked down at me and said, “What the fuck are you doing!?”

In all sincerity I looked up and said, “Well, sir, I am looking for my nuts!”