Forgiven: One Man's Journey from Self-Glorification to Sanctification (37 page)

But today may have taken the ring-ding. This woman in her late 40s comes in every week with her son, who I would guess is about 17 . . .

and weighs 300 pounds. Don’t get me wrong — they’re good people, but right out of a Farrelly brothers movie. Well today, the two come in, and for two hours this woman is telling me that she had to go to the hospital because she had
shingles!
Now, I don’t even know what shingles are, but I do think they have something to do with the butt. Can you imagine this? Two years ago I’m writing a pilot for Fox, today some old bag is telling me about her butt problems!
Holy !@#$, amen!

Another wonderful insight into the world of the “unsaved” Vince. Man, I was brutal — and to think that attitude was rubbing off on my own kids.

Thank God I listened, just in the nick of time.

Overnight the Rock became huge — overnight. But, like Mick, it 264

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never went to his head —
never.
Dwayne Johnson is one of the nicest people you would ever want to meet, and he remained that way up until the last time I saw him. Some of my fondest memories of the Rock were when I’d call him prior to going to tv to lay out what we had for him and get his input. All the great ones did this — they wanted to know about their stuff beforehand. Rock, Mick, Austin, Triple H — they were constantly thinking about the next Monday night. And, from our viewpoint, the big hitters had to know what they were doing in advance. If they had a problem with the angle or direction, and we didn’t find out until Monday, it might send the entire live show into a tailspin. Some of those conversations were so creative — these guys had brilliant minds and they all really cared. I used to get a kick out of the Rock referring to me as “Roo,” because he knew how much I dug the phrase, “Roody Poo Candy Ass.” There was nothing better than putting Rock and Mick together. I lived for their entertainment. Whereas all Vince cared about was what Austin was doing, I made Rock and Mick my priority. Working with them gave me great pleasure — they were the best two human beings on the roster. One of my all-time favorite projects was when Mankind surprised the Rock with “Rock — This is Your Life.” I’ll put that segment up against anything that ever aired on television. Two of the best, in one of the best things I was ever involved in writing. I remember watching this from the gorilla position (the area on the other side of the curtain where the wrestlers gather before going out into the arena) — and never wanting it to end. However, in the corner of my eye I could see Vince, and he was getting antsy. After it was over and Rock and Mick came back through the curtain, I congratulated them and told them how much I’d enjoyed it. Once they left, Vince called me over.

“Vince — what the hell are you doing?” he said. “That ran for over 15 minutes.” McMahon was hot. What could I say? I knew he was wrong and I was right — the rating for that segment was going to be through the roof.

Later that night I ran in to Mick again. He asked what Vince had 265

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thought of the segment. I told him and Mick seemed a little disappointed. The next day the numbers came in.

“Rock — This is Your Life” drew an ungodly 8.4, to this day by far the highest-rated segment in the history of
Raw
. Back then, an average rating for a single segment of the show would do somewhere in the five or six range — nothing to sneeze at. But an 8.4? The usa Network had to be beside itself. I couldn’t wait to tell Mick. This was obviously one of those “I told ya so, Vince” moments. After I’d told Mick about the number I had to go to the day’s production meeting.

I could see Mick waiting outside the door pacing, just waiting to stick that 8.4 to Vince. The reason I remember that incident so well is because Vince never apologized — he never said he was wrong. I don’t know, I just kind of expected him to, but sometimes there were shades of Vince that made me stop and say . . . “Hmmm?” 266

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Chapter 46

STOPPING TO SAY . . . HMMM

I feel so corny saying this, but I have to. Vince and I grew really close.

At times, he almost felt like a father to me. I cared so much about him, his family and his business — maybe as much as I cared about my own flesh and blood. I just really enjoyed seeing him overcome everything to once again be the king of the kingdom
he
created in the first place. Back in the days of writing the magazine, that’s all I ever wanted to do — give back to him for all the enjoyment he had given me growing up. And I had done that. I have my critics out there, but the fact remains that without me attached to his hip, Vince never would have achieved the success he did during that time.

Financially, Vince took care of me. I never had to ask him for more money. My salary went from $60,000 to $350,000 in less than five years. On occasion he would even slip me a check with a lot of zeros, just for the sake of it. Looking back, I think Vince and I had a unique relationship. Vince used to tell me, “If you knew how I was back in 267

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the day you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me.” I’m glad I didn’t know that Vince — this one was a lot better.

I had many memorable times with the McMahons. One great story comes from when Linda McMahon first invited me into their inner circle of friends, even though I had no business being there. It was Vince’s birthday, and Linda was throwing a party at the house.

Linda invited Amy and I, and told me to “bring the kids.” What a mistake. First of all I showed up like . . . well, me. Jeans, black construction boots — it’s a birthday party, no big deal. Well, let’s put it this way, I was the only one without an alligator nipping at my breast. Yes, the Clampetts were there — in full force! Vince had to be embarrassed and hysterical at the same time.

Now, in his backyard, Vince has a tremendous in-ground pool. My kids want to go in, so they do. I have Annie, who’s about two, in a tube with VJ and Will watching her. Of course, the minute I turn my back for a second, VJ and Will get out. I turn around just in time to see Annie sliding right through the middle of the tube. What’s a father to do? Combat boots and all, I dive into the pool and get her. As I emerge from the water, all eyes are on me. How could Vince ever explain this lunatic to his friends? But the truth is, I don’t think Vince really cared. He let me be me and that’s why our relationship worked.

Even though everything seemed hunky-dory on the surface, in the back of my mind I couldn’t help but wonder whether Vince truly cared about me as an individual, or whether he cared about me because I was his cash cow and best-kept secret. It really began to bother me. I just couldn’t figure out whether or not the guy was genuine. There were some instances that made me wonder. One came when we were working on a pay-per-view. For the life of me I can’t tell you which one — I can only tell you that Rock had a match against Ken Shamrock. Sure, I could look up the exact event, but it’d be irrelevant. I flew out on a Saturday for a production meeting, and I was sick as a dog. I’m telling you I had only been sicker maybe once or twice in my life. I had no business getting on a plane and going to work — there was no question I had a severe case of the flu. But there 268

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was never any doubt in my mind — I was going. When I arrived at the meeting, I took a seat to the right of Vince at the head of the table.

I was white as snow, shaking and had tissue stuffed up my nose to keep it from draining on the table. About five minutes into the meeting Vince looks at me and says, “What’s the matter?” I simply said,

“Vince . . . I’m sick.” Vince looked me in the eye as serious as could be and said, “There is no sick.”

I’ll never forgot that line. At the same time, I should have been familiar with it. It always seemed so important for the McMahon men to be “manly.” I remember on a few occasions, when we were traveling together, it would be freezing outside and Shane McMahon would refuse to wear a coat. It just wasn’t “manly” to be cold, I guess.

. . . Forget that — when I’m sick, I’m sick, and if that means putting on my feetie pajamas and going to bed. . . . Mommy, make the hot toddy!

The next day, at the pay-per-view, I literally kept my coat on the entire time. I was dripping with sweat and visibly shaking — teeth chattering, the whole deal. I had to remain seated, in fear that I would collapse. Following the event, Vince wanted to go out to eat like he always did, but there was just no way was I going to make it. I had someone drive me back to the hotel. I thought I was going to die. I’ll never forget taking all my clothes off, getting into the tub, turning on the water as hot as I could take it and curling up like a fetus just waiting for it to be over.

About an hour later the phone rang. I got out of the tub and answered it. It was Vince. Despite how I was feeling Vince wanted to meet at some ungodly hour in the morning to go over that day’s tv.

I don’t know how I made it, but I went. I got home the following day and I was in bed for a week.

That’s how Vince was when it came to business. It was all about
his
company. I couldn’t get that experience out of my mind. The guy really was insensitive at times — probably much like I was at that point. But I’m not just talking about a cold here — I probably should have been in a hospital. But Vince cut me no slack. I don’t know, do 269

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you treat somebody you sincerely care about like that? Would he have dealt with Stephanie the same way?

You know what? He might have. But then, there was that other side.

I remember a time, during the glory days, when I was just flat-out exhausted. The day-to-day grind was wearing me down mentally, physically and emotionally. To put it as plainly as I can — I was shot, nothing left in the tank. The pressure of the beast we had created was eating me “Raw” and I felt like I was going off the deep end. On top of that, at the prior tv meeting Vince once again scrapped a good idea — one that I’d worked on for days — because a talent didn’t like it. I used to hate when a talent didn’t like something — but then they didn’t have anything better. Nine times out of ten, when someone didn’t like what I wrote it was simply because they didn’t get it — it was too complex. You see, the boys rarely see the big picture, they only see what they’re doing that night. And Vince would always cave.

Forget the house-of-cards effect on the whole show when one thing got changed — if the talent didn’t like or understand something, Vince went in what he called “another direction,” which in my opinion was more times than not the
wrong
direction. Not many people realize this, but Vince hated confrontation when it came to the boys.

On any other level, he seemed to thrive on it — but when it came to the talent, he seemed like the mother who just couldn’t say no to her children. If a talent didn’t like something, he changed it — even if Plan B stunk. Worse, when he did it with me in the room it killed my credibility. On this occasion, I was in the room.

I was hot when we got back to Titan Tower, so I scheduled a meeting with McMahon. As I said, I was on the verge of a breakdown, so maybe I was just using the incident as an excuse to clear my system of anything and everything that was poisoning it. To this day I still don’t totally understand it, but as I sat down in a chair across from Vince, I started crying like a baby. I couldn’t stop. My emotions —

whatever they were — came out in a river of tears. The expression on Vince’s face . . . I don’t think he knew what to say. Inside, however, he had to know that perhaps the pressure of our success was getting to 270

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me. But Vince needed me to be strong — and he knew he needed to treat me with kid gloves. After I laid everything out, Vince said a few words, and then ended his thoughts by saying, “Vince . . . I love you.” As soon as those words came out — I’m thinking two things. 1.) holy !@#$ — this guy really does care about me. And 2.) Is he kidding me, or what? Would he stoop so low, and be so sappy as to make me believe he really does care about me?

I left Vince’s office not knowing if he had been sincere. That’s a shame, but that’s what the business had done to me — you’re always second-guessing, you’re always doubting. To this very moment, I don’t know if Vince meant those words, but then again if he truly did I would have heard from him at least once in the past two-and-a-half years.

Aside from often stopping to go
“Hmmm”
when it came to Vince’s true feelings, on many occasions I had to put my finger on my lips and stop to ponder when it came to some of the boss’s ideas. For every great idea in the wrestling business, there are 10 not-so-great ones. That’s the way it works — you sift through the sand at times to discover that one real gem. Brain farts . . . we all have them. Including yours truly (even though I still say David Arquette
wasn’t
one of them). To explore the lighter side of Vince, let’s look at some of those brainstorms which made me stop and say,
“Hmmm.”
One that immediately comes to mind? When we were desperately trying to come up with a new identity for Goldust, Vince came up with the idea of dressing up Dustin in a full-body stocking and letting him prance around as the “Naked Guy.”
Hmmm.

Then there was the time when Vince decided to put the most over female in the history of the business, Sable, together with the “Parade of Human Oddities.”

Hmmm.
(On second thought, maybe it was more about vindic-tiveness than being a bad idea.)

What about “Golga” — remember him? Vince’s vision was to make John Tenta’s character a humpback so that his opponents wouldn’t be able to pin his shoulders to the mat.

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