Accepted

by Pat Patterson

  The following day, I flew home. Upon taking off, I realized I had left the whole bag of pot in the trunk of the car. For a moment, it was as if time had stopped. When I got home, both Louie and his friend were waiting for me at the airport. They were happy to see me until I explained what had happened — in fact, they didn’t believe me and were sure I was trying to play a joke on them. Then I got nervous. What would the rental company do if they found the pot in the car? They had my address and everything they needed to trace it to me. But I never heard about it, so I’m pretty sure somebody was pleasantly surprised. It’s amazing when fiction becomes reality, but I made sure to never be in that position again.

  Running that many towns each night was crazy and it put a lot of pressure on everyone. It was a pain in the ass, too, in the end. We eventually started to cut back. We were flying all those guys into each town from everywhere, and frankly we could have replaced many with local talent and saved a lot of money. So finally I asked the travel department (we had one by then) to send me a report about what we were really spending. I went to Vince with the numbers.

  “Do you know how much money we spend running four towns a night?”

  “Oh my God. We’re going to need to cut back.”

  Not long after that, we made a list of people, fifteen or eighteen of them, that we had no choice but to give notice to. I had to tell all of them to get in a line outside of Vince’s office. Everyone was scared. And it was difficult. But it needed to be done.

  I worked a crazy schedule for a few years. I ended up quitting quite a few times, but Vince always wanted me back. If I was in Vince’s shoes, I know I would have wanted a friend like me working by my side. Someone who doesn’t blow smoke up your ass to get ahead. Someone who can be around me for two days and not speak a word to me because he knows I’m busy. Someone I could laugh with or talk about anything outside business. Someone who doesn’t argue with me, but makes suggestions that have the best interest of the company at heart. Since he’s busy all the time, I think he needs someone who can be there when he needs him to be there.

  I think we did all right over the years.

  Just to show you how we worked, one time I got to Vince’s place at 8 a.m. to start work, and at 10 a.m. he was still on the phone in his office and hadn’t acknowledged me. I got up and left. He called me that night around six.

  “I’m sorry, Pat, I just finished my calls.”

  “And I got the hell out of there.”

  He told me I was right and that was it.

  He’s Vince, and he’s the boss, but I’m not going to wait for him forever. There was no official schedule that I had to follow, but that also meant that there was an “anything goes” understanding between us.

  We were at the gate in Houston once, waiting for our plane with forty-five minutes to kill. I decided to go to the restroom and smoke a cigarette. You could do that back then. Someone took the stall right beside me. That person spoke.

  “Patrick . . . open up your book. We’re going to check our numbers to see if we should run that town again after tonight.”

  “Vince, you gotta be kidding . . . ?”

  We were talking business while we’re both doing our business. To this day, he laughs when I tell people that story. We were close, that’s for sure. A little too close for comfort sometimes. That’s what happen when you’re working with a workaholic — at least when you get along with him.

  Another time, we were on a plane when, almost as soon as we took off, Vince fell asleep. Yes, he does sleep . . . occasionally. I jumped at the chance to hang out with the rest of the crew in the back. As I made my move, Vince stirred and said, “Where are you going?”

  “Vince, go back to sleep. I’m just going to the restroom.” I went to the back to order a drink. It was a rare moment to kick back and relax. I could never seem to get away to take a real break.

  As you may have figured out, Vince doesn’t do anything quite like anyone else. Once a month, he went to New York to get a haircut at a classic barbershop, but it was also very expensive. We left the office in a limousine to go to New York City and worked all the way there. While he was in the barbershop, I walked around and enjoyed myself. After the haircut, it was usually 6:30 or 7 p.m.

  “Vince, can we get a cocktail or something?” I once asked.

  To my surprise, he said yes. One drink became two and then two became four. It turned into a big party. Then it was: where could we go next to have a good meal and an even better drink? By the time we got home, we were drunk. And we’d had fun — and as a bonus for us both, the workaholic took a little time off.

  Early on, I had the office right next to Vince’s, the only one with a window. The only one with a window that opened so I could smoke in my office. But Vince still knew I was smoking, because the smoke passed right by his window. I ended up having to go outside to smoke like everyone else. I was probably one of the very few people whose smoking Vince tolerated.

  It’s no joke: he truly hates it. If I was driving us around, I occasionally needed to stop to have a cigarette — but I also needed an excuse for making the stop. If Vince had fallen asleep, he would always notice when we exited the highway. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure I can call what he does “sleeping.”

  “What are we doing, Patrick?”

  “I’m hungry; I want to grab breakfast.”

  “Patrick, I think you want to smoke.”

  “Good idea, Vince. I will do both.”

  Sometimes, it would be to get coffee; other times because nature was calling — but, as we’ve established, that was not the best excuse because he would join me to work anyway.

  Kevin Dunn was the third man on our team. If I was Vince’s right-hand man, Kevin was the left. As a producer, he’s responsible for every last thing that goes on television. Everything. Consider the number of hours of programming we’ve done over the years: the level of responsibility he’s had on his shoulders is mind-boggling. When you’re in charge of everything, it is impossible to make everyone happy. They had to let go of a few people not too long ago — I was surprised and asked Kevin why. He simply said that he was doing his job. I would not want to be in his shoes having to make those decisions all the time. I have come to respect the fact that, on these matters, he knows more than I do.

  Kevin and I never had any problems working together. I love him to death and he loves me the same way. I’ve stayed at his house, I’m close with his kids, and we all play golf together. (Now that the kids are older, they beat us because we’re both bad golfers . . . I just handle it better than Kevin does.) I’m like an uncle to his kids. Kevin still talks about Louie whenever we see each other. They were good friends. He thanks Louie for all the time they spent together and for helping him with his family.

  The relationship between Vince, Kevin, and me is simple: we believe in each other and we respect each other. People in the business are sometimes so set in their ways that they have difficulty working with Kevin because he’s always growing and expanding his way of thinking. More often than not, Kevin is the voice of reason balancing out our old-school ideas.

  It’s not fun to be told we can’t do business like that anymore, but that’s the way it is. When people tell me wrestling is not what it used to be, I tell them they’re right . . . It’s better.

  Not that we can’t improve even more in the future.

  You have no idea how many times Kevin saved Vince and me from ourselves.

  We were a team: I was wrestling; Kevin was producing; and Vince had the overall vision of where he wanted the whole product to go. We found connecting points between all of it, together, as a team.

  Kevin has thanked me for helping him fit in and treating him like one of the boys. It was not always easy on him, back when his dad brought him to work at television tapings in Allentown. I didn’t know we would become such good friends, but I’m glad we did. I
thank him too for all he did for me as well.

  In the old days, when we were having late-night working sessions at Vince’s home, his little daughter, Stephanie, would sit on my lap as we put the television tapings or the next WrestleMania together. Before going to bed, she would come in to say goodnight and give both Vince and me a hug. I felt like a part of the family, like the friend turned into the cool uncle. Strangely enough, I’ve read on the internet that I am Stephanie’s godfather. Let me get the record straight here: that’s not true. People, don’t go believing everything you hear about my life and career on the internet . . . At least not without checking with me first. Linda texted me a few nights ago because she had made my favorite cake for a family dinner and it made them think about me. It felt good to get that message.

  I never really worked directly with Stephanie or Shane because as they were getting more involved, I was becoming less a part of the day-to-day operations. There was another rumor that I quit the business in 2004 as Triple H (Paul Levesque) was starting to assume more responsibilities. Now that’s complete bullshit. Believe me when I write this: I was burned out at the time. And it was probably the third or fourth time I quit. (I’ve lost count.) No, I don’t want Paul to fail. In fact, the opposite is true: I desperately want him to succeed. I want the business to continue to thrive after I’m gone, and after Vince is gone. Paul knows he’s now part of my family. He knows, because I’ve said to him, “I’m not looking for a job, but if I can ever help you with anything, just ask and I will be there. I will be there for you, just like I was with Vince and his dad. You will always get the truth out of me.”

  So, yes, I let him do his thing. I can’t be in his ear all the time and expect him to learn, grow, and create his own legacy. I believe he’s doing a great job at finding his own way. We’ve texted about how highly I think of the NXT talent in Orlando. He tells me that Vince often brings up my name during meetings. It’s fun to hear, and in a way I’m not surprised. I’m flattered that Paul now considers me family as well.

  Back in the day, Vince and I would sometimes sit in silence across from each other for over half an hour, neither of us able to get a story moving for the Superstars. But that’s the creative process for you: a lot of downtime. For me, that was the worst. When it happened, Vince and I would start to get on each other’s nerves. Without noticing, I would start to shake my legs. Vince would ask me to stop. After two or three times, I would say, “Yeah, but half an hour ago, you were the one shaking.” We were pushing each others’ buttons.

  Very recently, we were finishing a meeting at a television taping when he started bouncing his leg up and down. I just looked at him funny. He started laughing right away, because he knew what I was thinking. We have probably spent way too much time together!

  I never really fought Vince over anything. He’s the boss. Sometimes I’ve been disappointed when I’ve felt strongly about something and I could not get Vince on board — but that’s what happens in any job. It was never personal. In the end, it’s his vision, and it’s impossible for him to see things exactly like me. When it’s all said and done, he has the final word. I’m the lucky one allowed to play in his sandbox. I often explain it this way: he likes chocolate ice cream and I like vanilla. He’s my boss and I can’t force-feed him vanilla. But I can attempt to convince him to try it. If he still wants his chocolate, I will have to find some and deliver it to him. There is a way to work with your boss without getting into a fight, and we’ve been much more productive that way. I don’t remember him losing his cool even once in public. I saw him get angry only once and it had nothing to do with the business.

  You see, Vince has a soft side that not a lot of people get to see, especially today. Back in the day, he threw a pool party at his home with more than forty guests from the company to celebrate Howard Finkel’s birthday. He had a band, waiters, catering — the whole nine yards. At some point, people started to push each other into the pool with their clothes on. When I saw that, I decided to beat everyone to the punch and went inside, stripped down to my underwear, and jumped in. Bruce Prichard picked up my clothes and threw them in the pool: it was on. Alfred Hayes was next in . . . and pretty soon everyone but Vince was soaked. He wasn’t happy his party had taken this turn.

  You know who finally got Vince in the pool that day? Louie.

  Like I said, Vince never gets mad to the point of making a scene or anything. I think it’s part of the reason for his success, that he keeps his emotions under control. I remember a time when something particularly bad made it on TV, and he said, “Goddamn it, how stupid are we? How come no one said anything before we put that on the air?”

  I said, “No one wants to tell you how wrong you are.” I can’t write here what he said next — but that’s pretty much it as far as Vince getting mad.

  The best part of our relationship? Even when things are bad, we have fun.

  Bobby Heenan is another great wrestling mind. We’re great friends; I loved him since Minneapolis where he was my manager. We shared rooms and traveled together for years. There are a lot of stories I could tell about Bobby. When we entered a hotel room, he would carry me in his arms as if we were newlyweds. We had fun laughing about that all the time. It was our thing. My favorite Bobby Heenan memory took place in Toronto. He’d had a few too many at the bar and I had to convince him to go back to the room and go to bed. Ten minutes later, I couldn’t sleep so I started getting dressed to go out.

  “Where are you going?” Bobby asked.

  “I need to get out of this damn room, Bobby. I need some fresh air.”

  He said OK, but in his head I guess he thought that I wanted to pick someone up at the bar. All I really wanted was a few more drinks with the guys. I knew Bobby wouldn’t sleep while waiting for me to return — he was just too curious. When I came back, it was pitch black. I made just enough noise and talked as if I had someone with me. “Shhh, he’s asleep. Don’t worry; we’ll have a good time.”

  The following day when I told Bobby I was alone, we laughed again.

  “Pat, I was sure you had someone with you. I didn’t know how I was supposed to position myself. I didn’t know if I could watch or not. You had me all screwed up in my mind.”

  He told that story again and again in the dressing room. We’ve had quite a few laughs about that night.

  One time when Hogan was just hitting his peak, the agents’ reports from the road were all about how great they were doing. I told Vince we’d made good soup . . . but the agents were the ones who were enjoying our recipe.

  Around the same time, we had a show at the Meadowlands in New Jersey, not too far from the office. Vince told me we would not be working that Saturday because he had a wedding to attend. A lightbulb went off in my head.

  “I’m going to the Meadowlands to have some fun.”

  I had one hell of an idea for the show and Vince was excited as I told him about it.

  “You’re going to have one hell of a time putting that together.”

  “Oh yeah, we’ll tear the goddamn house down, Vince.”

  Then he started to throw in his own two cents for me to execute at the show within my idea. At first, it was cool, but then things kept evolving to the point that it was not really my idea anymore. I told him to call the agents and explain the idea himself, because I was not going anymore. He’d taken the fun out of it.

  I wanted to speak to the talent face-to-face, not just make decisions in the office with him. But Vince is very creative, too, so much so that, I swear, sometimes I thought we’d drive each other crazy. Maybe he did drive me crazy? I don’t know.

  The part of my job I really loved back then, and still love today, is helping the talent directly with their matches. I learn more about them as people, and I become a better judge of who is worth sticking with by connecting with them at that level.

  When Shawn Michaels and Marty Jannetty were first coming in, they
were fired almost on the spot after destroying a hotel room. Vince was clear: “The Rockers are dead to me, Patrick.” They had been there for a cup of tea, and no one knew Shawn would become the star he was destined to be. They were just new talents who had screwed up and made the company look bad. In Vince’s mind, they had blown it and that was it.

  I knew they had skills, and that they were just kids trying to entertain themselves. Kind of like me in a way. I never got in trouble like that, but I had wild parties on the road in my day. So periodically, I approached Vince with the idea of bringing them back. One day, he finally relented. “Call them, but it’s on you. Make sure they behave this time.”

  I helped Shawn Michaels, but he was not the only one. I believed in Bret Hart as well, because I truly thought getting behind him was best for the whole company. I’ve never wanted to take credit for what they achieved, but since they have both said I was important in their career publicly, I guess I can acknowledge I helped. I would never brag about it to either of them when I was fighting for them to get a chance in the main event. The reason I fought for them was for the company and not for them personally. I thought it was good for business to have Shawn Michaels and Bret Hart as our top stars, because they were so very talented. There was no other reason. It’s the same thing today when I put my two cents in about talent I feel can do more for us. In the end, the office always makes the final decision, and I just play a small part in the process. Vince should get all the credit for putting André and Hogan together. So today I think it can be told that I deserve a lot of credit for putting Shawn and Bret together.

  But they’re not the only ones I took an interest in. Vince didn’t take me seriously when I first suggested Rey Mysterio for the main event of WrestleMania 22.