Ted DiBiase
Page 1
TED DIBIASE
The Million Dollar Man
Ted Dibiase
The Million Dollar Man
Ted DiBiase with Tom Caiazzo
Foreword by Jim “J.R.” Ross
Special Foreword by Terry Funk
Pocket Books
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Copyright © 2008 by World Wrestling Entertainment, Inc. All Rights Reserved.
World Wrestling Entertainment, the names of all World Wrestling Entertainment televised and live programming, talent names, images, likenesses, slogans and wrestling moves, and all World Wrestling Entertainment logos and trademarks are the exclusive property of World Wrestling Entertainment, Inc. Nothing in this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of World Wrestling Entertainment, Inc.
This book is a publication of Pocket Books, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc., under exclusive license from World Wrestling Entertainment, Inc.
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Photos on pages 12, 17, 22, 24, 40, 66, 96, 98, 126, 178, 183 Courtesy of Ted DiBiase.
Photos on pages 78, 91, 108, 111, 116, 132, 142 Courtesy of Pro Wrestling Illustrated Photographs.
All other photos Copyright © 2008 World Wrestling Entertainment, Inc. All Rights Reserved.
First Pocket Books trade paperback edition June 2008
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Designed by Ruth Lee-Mui
Manufactured in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
ISBN-13: 978-1-4165-5890-3
ISBN-10: 1-4165-5890-X
eISBN-13: 978-1-4165-5920-7
To
MELANIE
the best-looking girl at the pool, for sure!!
CONTENTS
Foreword by Jim “J.R.” Ross
Special Foreword by Terry Funk
1. Forced to Retire
2. World Wrestling Federation Champion—Not Really
3. The Early Years
4. Learning from My Dad
5. On the Road
6. The Challenges of Becoming a Man
7. The Final Two Years of High School
8. West Texas State
9. Refereeing and Wrestling
10. Gaining Experience in the Business
11. Taking Three Steps
12. The Million Dollar Man
13. Commentator and Manager
14. World Championship Wrestling
15. Corporate Man
16. Minister Ted
17. Conclusion
Acknowledgments
FOREWORD
Ted DiBiase may be known as the Million Dollar Man to wrestling fans around the world, but to me he will always be known as simply Teddy.
You see, Teddy and I have known each other for over thirty years, ever since we first got into the sports entertainment business in the midseventies, when we both got our “bachelor’s degree” in Wrestling 101 from the same man, “Cowboy” Bill Watts, in the Mid-South territory. Subsequently, we both received our “advanced degrees” in the business from Vince McMahon in World Wrestling Federation. In between, we both had gone on quite a journey, especially Theodore—or Marvin, as “Captain Redneck” Dick Murdoch used to call the man most people know as the Million Dollar Man.
Ted DiBiase is one of the best in-ring performers I’ve ever seen or ever will see. As a second-generation wrestler whose mom and stepfather were both pro wrestlers back in the day, young Teddy was a student of the game from day one and always seemed to be a natural fit for “the business.” However, the business, especially during the territory days, oftentimes gobbled up young wrestlers and spit them back out as not-so-changed-for-the-better human beings. The temptations of the road were many, and were often overwhelming for young men who were just starting their adult lives. There was plenty of sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll in the wrestling territories back in the seventies, and Ted DiBiase was not immune to these temptations. Neither was I, as best I remember, but somehow we both survived our miraculous journey through the scandalous seventies and the excesses of the eighties.
Ted’s story of his life in the wrestling business goes from his early days as a young and impressionable man in a wild and woolly territory—working for a demanding, albeit brilliant boss—to his ascent to the top of the sports entertainment world, working for the most powerful man in the history of the business. Ted’s “excellent adventure” documents his interactions with some of the most famous individuals of all time in the sports entertainment field, including: Andre the Giant, Ric Flair, Hulk Hogan, and, of course, Ted’s mentor, Dick Murdoch, to name just a few of the legends you will read about through the eyes of one of the most prominent and important figures in the history of what is perhaps the most unique, maligned, and controversial business imaginable.
These stories must be read to be believed, and through the grace of God, Ted DiBiase is still here to tell of his amazing experience in the wrestling and sports entertainment business, one that will never be duplicated. The life’s journey of the Million Dollar Man is pure gold.
—Jim “J.R.” Ross
SPECIAL FOREWORD
I had three mentors in the world of professional wrestling: my father, Eddie Graham, and “Iron” Mike DiBiase. All three men were wonderful people, and they taught me so much about the business. Unfortunately, Mike died from a heart attack in the prime of his life. Because of all the things he had done for me, I wanted to do something for his son, Teddy. Initially, it had nothing to do with the wrestling business; I was more concerned with helping Teddy get an education. Although he was offered a football scholarship at the University of Arizona, I steered him to West Texas State University. While I wanted to make sure he finished college and earned his degree, I also wanted Teddy in Canyon for selfish reasons: so that I could watch him play football.
What I didn’t realize about Teddy was that he came to West Texas State not only to play football and get a degree, but also to pursue a career in professional wrestling. At the time, West Texas State had produced some of the best wrestlers in the country, including those who had worked in the Amarillo territory: Bruiser Brody, Stan Hansen, Dory Funk Jr., Ray Stevens, Pat Patterson, Tito Santana, Tully Blanchard, Dick Murdoch, Dusty Rhodes, and me, among others. When he decided to leave college early and pursue wrestling full-time, I was upset: I wanted him to finish his studies. But he was in love with the business and knew exactly what he was doing.
Wrestling was in Teddy’s genes. His mother, Helen Hild, was one of the best and most beautiful women workers there was in the business. His stepfather was one of the greatest in-ring wrestlers and was also an incredible athlete at the University of Nebraska. Following their lead, Teddy had come to the right place to learn his craft. While in Amarillo, he learned to respect the business and made a commitment to do extremely well. Through his dedication and because he came into the business properly, Teddy became one of the truly great performers in the history of professional wrestling. He had an insatiable love for the business—maybe at times he loved it too much—and I don’t think there could have been a better Million Dollar Man.
Teddy still has a lot to offer to professional wrestling. But he
also has a great deal to offer to the layperson, someone who may be walking through this world needing to understand God a little better.
Teddy is an honest person and has a huge heart. In business and in life, he has never tried to manipulate or take advantage of anyone. I still call Teddy a kid, because that’s what he will always be to me. I love him like he was one of my own. My life, as well as the world of professional wrestling, is much better because of Ted DiBiase.
—Terry Funk
TED DIBIASE
1
FORCED TO RETIRE
In 1993, my last wrestling match in the United States was at SummerSlam in Detroit against Razor Ramon. I could have stayed as long as I wanted in World Wrestling Federation; Vince McMahon and everyone in the company had treated me with the utmost respect. But the travel schedule was wearing on me and I wanted to spend more time at home with my family. I missed my wife and my three sons, Michael, Teddy Jr., and Brett. So I chose to leave to pursue other wrestling opportunities.
After taking a few weeks off to rejuvenate, I lined up some bookings with Sohei “Giant” Baba’s All-Japan promotion. I first met Baba when I was playing college football at West Texas State; Terry Funk introduced me to him after a match in Amarillo. When I got into wrestling, Giant Baba invited me to work for a four-week tour, and I continued to work for him over the next two decades.
The schedule in Japan was lighter and I would be able to spend a lot more time with my family. Baba also gave me a great financial deal. Besides the money, I was issued round-trip first-class airfare and guaranteed all accommodations. The only thing I had to pay for was my food.
My first night back in Japan, I was immediately teamed up with my good friend and West Texas State alum Stan Hansen. Stan was the most popular American wrestler in all of Japan. Even though it was my first trip back since 1987, I was put right to work in the main events. My first match was in the Budokan in Tokyo; in front of thirty thousand fans, we captured the tagteam titles.
During the match, I took a basic bump. When I landed, a razor-sharp pain shot down both my arms. I got up and immediately tagged in Stan, and he could tell something was wrong. But somehow, through the pain, I managed to finish the match and we became the new champions.
The pain subsided and didn’t return until after about three more matches. After I took a simple body slam, the sharp twinges once again pulsed down my arms, and the pain continued for the next few weeks. All I could think of was finishing out the tour, but the pain was getting worse. The bottom line was that I knew something wasn’t right. So I finished the three-week tour and headed home.
A few days later, I went to see my local doctor. He referred me to the best neurosurgeon in the state of Mississippi, Dr. Glenn Warren. He ran some tests and scheduled me for an MRI. The results showed that I had two herniated cervical disks in the base of my neck, which was where I had landed when taking the bump. Dr. Warren said, “Ted, you have two choices. Undergo surgery, which would consist of some dissection of your muscle and tissue, and a bone graft procedure, or try a course of rehabilitation using a traction machine.
“Either way, I suggest you retire from professional wrestling.” I was blown away. Sensing my disbelief, he added, “The pain is just going to get worse. You can try the traction, but inevitably you are going to need the surgery. And even after the surgery, if you get dropped on the area just right, you could be paralyzed for life or even killed.” I was stunned. I understood what he was saying, but I couldn’t believe it. At the time, I guess I just didn’t want to go through what I thought was unneeded surgery.
I also was in denial. At this point, I needed to get my life back on track. For years, due to World Wrestling Federation’s demanding road schedule, I’d conducted myself in a very immoral and unprincipled manner. Not only was I drinking and using drugs, I was unfaithful in my marriage. Although I’d been happily married to Melanie for more than a decade, my overinflated ego led me to womanizing.
In 1993, shortly before WrestleMania IX, Melanie found out about this behavior. I begged for her forgiveness; the thought of losing everything that I loved—my wife and children—scared me to death. Luckily for me, Melanie agreed to give me a second chance. In the interest of saving my marriage, I decided that wrestling in Japan was the best thing to do.
Needless to say, I was very concerned. Giant Baba had just given me a generous contract and I needed the money to support my family. Before I left the doctor’s office, I explained my situation to him. I told him I had to go back and give it a try out of respect to both Baba and my career.
So, I chose the rehabilitation. The doctor gave me this traction device, which I was required to wear for about thirty minutes a day. A week or so later, I packed the device with my bags and headed back to Japan for another three-week tour.
After only three days in Japan, I was in so much pain that I couldn’t wrestle. The next evening, I spoke to Giant Baba in the dressing room. I respectfully explained to him the entire situation and that I needed to go home to have the surgery. Baba knew exactly what I was talking about—it turned out he had the same medical condition. He told me that he would meet me at my hotel in the morning to pay me for my three days of work.
That next morning, Baba told me that I was welcome back to All-Japan anytime. He then opened a briefcase full of cash. I was expecting him to pay me for only the three days, but Baba proceeded to count out all the money he had guaranteed me for the entire three-week tour. I was flabbergasted. Baba was all class, and the gesture showed me just how much he respected me. We shook hands and I left for the airport to catch my plane back home.
Although I put surgery off for a few more years, I took the doctor’s advice and never wrestled anywhere again. When I went back to work for Vince as a commentator and manager, and even later as a producer, I never wrestled. I wasn’t taking any bumps, so I didn’t think I needed surgery. I kept holding off because I thought I could tolerate the pain, and also that the rehab would ease the pain. But nothing worked, and at times the pain was unbearable.
It wasn’t until 1996 that I checked into the River Oaks Hospital in Jackson, Mississippi, for my herniated cervical disk surgery. After I was prepped and had my vitals checked, I was given anesthesia. The doctor proceeded to remove a portion of the herniated disk that was pushing on the nerve. He made an incision in the front of my neck in order to reach the spine, then removed disk material from the nerve and fused it with two bone plugs taken from my hip. Some four hours later, I woke up in the recovery room. I spent only one night in the hospital, but it took me about a week to recover. Although the surgery was a success, the scars on my hip and on my neck are a daily reminder of the incident that eventually forced me into retirement.
2
WORLD WRESTLING FEDERATION CHAMPION—NOT REALLY
Technically, I didn’t win the World Wrestling Federation Heavyweight Championship.
In June of 1987, shortly after the conclusion of WrestleMania III, my Million Dollar Man character was introduced to the world via a series of video vignettes. These were crafted in such a manner that even before I stepped into a World Wrestling Federation ring, the fans
couldn’t stand me. For example, one vignette showed me riding in a stretch limousine. With my personal bodyguard, Virgil, by my side, I stepped out of the vehicle and said arrogantly, “Hello, I’m Ted DiBiase. I’m the Million Dollar Man.”
Another vignette showed me using my vast amount of money to gain favors and special treatment. I went to a public swimming pool, where kids were playing and enjoying themselves. I decided that I wanted to swim and have the pool all to myself. I called over the pool attendant and told him that I needed my privacy and that all the kids had to get out. Of course, the pool attendant said, “I can’t kick everyone out of a public pool, especially not the kids.” I said, “Look, you don’t understand. I am the Million Dollar Man. I don’t wait on anybody.” I called Virgil with a snap of my fingers, and he pulled out a wad of money, handing the p
ool guy four or five hundred dollars. The pool attendant took the money and said, “I think there is too much chlorine in the water. I’ll be right back.” The next thing you saw was Virgil kicking all the kids out one by one, and me sitting on a lounge chair in my bathing suit, enjoying the pool, while all the kids were staring at me with sad faces from outside the fence. Then I turned to the camera and said, “Don’t get upset with the pool guy. He’s no different than you. He did the same thing that anybody would do. He took the money. Just like him, everybody has a price for the Million Dollar Man.”
I would always conclude these vignettes by turning to the camera, grinning with sheer evil, and stating, “You see, everybody has their price for the Million Dollar Man.”
All these vignettes were designed to fuel the fans’ anger, but it was a live event at the MECCA arena in Milwaukee that really catapulted my character to the hated status. In another effort to show my evil side, and that everyone had a price, I offered a five-year-old boy an opportunity to win some money. I asked the eager child, “Can you bounce a basketball?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“Can you bounce it ten times in a row?”
“Uh-huh,” he answered.
Virgil lifted the boy from the ringside-seat area and took him into the ring. The cute-as-could-be young man easily dribbled the ball ten consecutive times. With the crowd sensing my compassion, I said, “That’s great. Now, if you can bounce the ball fifteen times in a row, I’ll give you five hundred dollars.”
With the crowd cheering the young boy on, he dribbled away. After his fourteenth dribble, I stuck out my foot, which caused him to miss the last bounce. As the crowd gasped in disbelief, the little boy started to cry, and I told him, “Ah, you missed, how unfortunate for you, son. You are going to learn a very hard lesson at a very young age. When you don’t get the job done, you don’t get paid!” I laughed. The young boy burst into tears and ran to his mother.