by Ric Flair
There’s been so much talk about who’s the greatest WWE Superstar of all time. I wanted to take a few moments during my speech to give my opinion on the matter. Stone Cold Steve Austin is without a shadow of a doubt the greatest WWE Superstar ever. Period. Some people thought that remark was a shot at Hulk Hogan. It wasn’t. It was based on business records that Steve set as a performer when he was on top for the company. I knew Steve in WCW, and I admire what he did with his career. Steve loves the history of our business and cares so much about every detail. I’ve been in the ring to witness almost everyone’s entrance over the last thirty-five years. There’s nothing like what happens in an arena when the sound of that glass breaks and Austin walks to the ring.3
While I looked out in the crowd, I saw two people I needed to talk about: Randy Orton and Batista. When I see everything they’ve accomplished on their own, it proves that our group Evolution was a success. Randy is one of the top performers in our business and a tremendous champion. Dave was an incredible talent who could do so much in the ring. I felt his match with Undertaker at WrestleMania 23 was a glimpse of the greatness that’s in him.
I also wanted to say something special to Paul. I needed everyone to know how much his friendship and support have meant to me, and how much I think of him professionally. There were times during my speech where I tried to see how the cuff links he gave me looked.
I decided that I was going to go into character and say something to Shawn Michaels about our match the following day. It didn’t feel right. I said what came naturally to me. I wanted Shawn to know how special he is as a performer and how much my sons looked up to him as a person. I had to let Shawn know that “to be the man, you gotta beat the man.”
At this point, my attention was directed to the front row of the audience: to my family.
I thought of my parents, Kay and Dick Fliehr, who are no longer with us. When writing this part of my speech, I remembered when I watched the AWA in their home as a child, when my dad took me to AWA shows on my birthday. To think that all these years later I went from cheering on the Crusher to standing at that podium. It was something that was difficult to put into perspective. I was still amazed that I was the only inductee going into the Hall while still an active WWE Superstar. I wish my parents could’ve been in the front row with the kids, whom they loved so much. I know they’d have been proud. When I look at my children Megan and David, I can’t help but think of their mother, Leslie. Leslie and I met at the University of Minnesota. We were married for twelve years. Leslie is the greatest woman I’ve ever known. She had to be to tolerate me the way she did for so long.
A big part of being accepted into the business in the early ’70s was going out with the guys after the shows. Dusty Rhodes and Dick Murdoch were two wrestlers who were in a tag team called the Texas Outlaws. I was enamored of Dusty. He was one of the idols I had in my life. His presence in the ring, captivating cadence on the microphone, and the way he held the audience in the palm of his hand every night inspired me. Dusty went on to become “the American Dream,” one of the greatest heroes in our business, but even then, before his heroic stardom, Dusty was larger than life. I just wanted to be a part of what he was doing.
I drove Dusty and Dick around, carried their bags, and went out with them. They gave me a good share of rookie-type hazing, playing jokes on me like shaving my head in Japan, throwing my clothes off a hotel balcony, or calling me and telling me they needed me to drive them to the airport because they were going on The Tonight Show. I loved it. I loved it so much that I’d tell Leslie I had to go on the road with Dusty to appear at shows in different towns, but I wasn’t booked to work on those shows. After two weeks, I’d come home with no money. It didn’t take her long to figure out I was going out just to be with Dusty.
There was a point when I wanted to be his “brother” and call myself Ramblin’ Ricky Rhodes. I even curled my hair like his. When I asked him for his blessing, he said, “Be the first Ric Flair.” Amid the rookie hazing, Dusty always watched out for me.
I’ve never seen someone with a stronger connection with our audience than Dusty. He’s the most charismatic person I’ve ever been around. Someone showed me an interview where he was quoted as saying, “There’s one Babe Ruth, one Muhammad Ali, and one ‘Nature Boy’ Ric Flair.” I can’t articulate, even in my own book, what Dusty saying that means to me. All I wanted was to be like the Dream.
Though Dusty and I would go our separate ways, I loved going out after shows, going on tours, and being part of the camaraderie with the other guys in the locker room. Leslie and I moved to Charlotte in 1974, and I continued doing the same thing. After years of this, Leslie had enough. I came home one night and she kicked me out. By the tone of her voice, I knew this was it. Our marriage was over. I went to the one place I knew I could stay until I got back on my feet.4
I wanted to make sure I mentioned Leslie in my Hall of Fame speech, because she deserved it. Megan and David needed to hear from me, in front of the whole world, how amazing their mother was, how much I knew that then, how much I knew at that moment, and how much I will know that for the rest of my life. What I didn’t know when I was married to Leslie was that I had an angel. I was so engrossed with my own life and establishing myself professionally that I didn’t do what I needed to keep her. You only get one chance with a woman like that. Leslie gave me countless chances. Each time, I discovered new and inventive ways to mess things up. But you’d never know that by speaking to Leslie or seeing what wonderful people Megan and David grew up to become.
My second wife, Beth, stayed with me for twenty-three years. She traveled around the world with me during my hectic schedule as NWA Champion. Sometimes I’d be on the road for eight to twelve weeks at a time. She helped me get through the bad times in WCW in the late ’80s, encouraged me to sign with WWE in ’91, and was there with me when things happened in WCW again in the late ’90s. She always held on to her dream of being a mother. No matter how many times the doctors told her that her chances of carrying a pregnancy to full term were dwindling, she never gave up. It’s because of her determination and strength during those years that I have the honor of being Ashley and Reid’s father.
In 2006, I decided to leave Beth, and we got divorced. Things became acrimonious between us. Our split damaged Ashley and Reid worse than I ever imagined. Things had been slowly repaired to the point where my wife Tiffany, the kids, Beth, and I could spend holidays together. I’m very thankful for that. It was important to acknowledge Beth in my speech for her years of dedication to the children. There were times when Beth was close to Megan and David too. I loved Beth very much. I just felt it was time to leave.
Seeing my four children sitting in the front row reminded me of the time we spent together as a family. It was difficult not to look at them for my entire speech.
I worried that I wasn’t there enough for my children, and I was concerned about the long-term effects on them. I’ll cherish the image of the four of them sitting together at the Hall of Fame for the rest of my life. My children are my greatest gifts.
At times, I agonized over the fact that professional wrestling gave me so much but that it also took so many things away. It gave me the opportunity to make a living and provide for my family, but to do that, I had to be away from them. I still struggle with accepting that today. I always loved my children, but I didn’t realize until I spent time with Ashley and Reid what a special gift it is to be a parent and be home with your kids.
And to my wife Tiffany: being close friends before we dated gave us the opportunity to know one another on a different level. We entered our relationship with a mutual respect. Tiffany’s been a calming presence in my life and has communicated with me in a way that no woman has before. The past two years had been up and down for me professionally, and Tiffany was there for me. She’s helped me begin to understand that my career is not over; it’s just continuing on a different path. That’s been difficult for me to make peace with, but I’
m getting there. Tiffany’s also helped me become comfortable with the idea that it’s okay to show the public who Richard Fliehr is. She’s inspired me in so many different ways and helped me understand that the next phase of life is not a step down or a death sentence. During my speech, I mentioned that I tested her—no more “Naitchin’”—no more going out until the sun comes up and dropping $1,100 at dinner and another $3,000 at the bar.
Tiffany’s relationship with my children developed to a point where everyone was comfortable being together. We started to do a lot of fun things as a group: going to dinner, spending holidays together, and visiting each other’s homes.
After the induction ceremony, we all went to a reception. I was anxious, nervous, worrying about the next day, thinking about putting on my trunks, lacing up my boots, and putting my arms through the sleeves of my robe for the final time. I stood at the reception like a statue. I sipped a glass of red wine. Michael Hayes said to me, like only he can, “What the hell are you doing? You’re wrestling Shawn Michaels tomorrow. You’ve done this more than ten thousand times. Have a few drinks. Have you ever not had a drink the night before a match? Why would you change now? Are you crazy?” Michael was right. I needed to loosen up a bit. So I got bombed. That’s right, I went old school. I drank all night and had a blast. The only thing missing was J. J. Dillon making arrangements with the limo driver about where we were going next. The Horsemen used to go out until four in the morning and be at the gym two hours later. Then we’d shower, get something to eat, go to the building for the show, and repeat that … every night. That was the closest I came to duplicating those days in a long time, and it felt wonderful.
I got back to my suite and looked out the window to a new horizon. In a few short hours, the sun would come up. The day I’d been so conflicted about, the day that led me to one of the greatest periods of my life, also represented the end.
3
TO BE THE MAN, YOU GOTTA BEAT THE MAN
Time waits for no one.
March 30, 2008 … My final match …
In the hysteria of WrestleMania week, there are few quiet moments. I found one. We were getting ready to make our way to the Citrus Bowl. Tiffany was in the other room getting dressed. I looked at myself in the mirror. I didn’t say anything. I just looked at myself. Thirty-five years doing everything I ever dreamed of: from headlining events all over the world to being recognized as a World Champion to doing my best as an ambassador for this great sport. I was now hours away from all of it coming to an end on the greatest stage our business has ever known: WrestleMania.
I never spent a lot of time watching my matches, because I was so focused on what I was doing. When one program with someone was over, I just started another with somebody else. That became my main concern. This can be an all-consuming business. At least that’s how it was with me. I knew if something was good. I didn’t have to ask anyone. Today, it bothers me that a lot of younger talent go on the internet as soon as their matches or interview segments are done to see what people say about their work. The week before, for the first time, I watched my trilogy of matches from 1989 in WCW against Ricky Steamboat in their entirety: Chi-Town Rumble, Clash of the Champions VI: Ragin’ Cajun, and WrestleWar: Music City Showdown.
I had to say they were really good. I was forty years old. Steamboat was about thirty-five. We were still in our prime. Looking at myself that day, I knew I could be that man one more time. The company had put so much into this. Shawn had dedicated the last three months of his life to this and would be giving his all today. He asked to work with me. I had to be that man one more time. That day must be today.
There have been periods during my career when I had anxiety and self-confidence issues. There were moments I got into my own head and couldn’t escape. I doubted that I could still perform at a high level. There were times I didn’t know who I was. I worked so hard for my entire career so that everyone in the world would know who I was. It’s difficult to describe what anxiety and self-esteem challenges can do to a human being.
Even though this is a wonderful industry, it’s tough to be a success. It can be cruel and unforgiving. When you’re done, you’re done. The road can be your best friend or your worst enemy. My love of partying after the matches was not recommended. I don’t either—now. It was my way of dealing with being away from my family and avoiding boredom and loneliness. When the show’s over, you’re dealing with your own reality. There’s no off-season. The professional sports leagues have seasons: the NFL has 16 games; the NBA and NHL have 82; Major League Baseball has 162. An actor could be on set for a film for a few months or do a limited engagement, also a few months, on Broadway. For a television show, it could be a number of different episodes per season, but there is time off. In our line of work, there’s no off-season. No intermission.
There’s a harsh irony to this business: people see us on television, and they see us at live events and personal appearances. They grow up with us. They feel they know who we are. You’re in a new town every night. You make acquaintances and you move on. You can be at the center of an arena with thousands of people, under bright lights. Those people are chanting your name. For the time you’re in front of that crowd, it’s the most amazing rush of adrenaline you could ever imagine. You’re in total control of yourself and the audience. You can evoke emotions from that capacity crowd by saying one word, and you can trigger another emotion by saying something else. You can take them to another level with a single movement.
That’s the kind of power a top performer in our industry has; it’s a special connection with the crowd. In other forms of sport and entertainment, players can tune out the crowd in order to focus. In this business, you feed off the crowd. But when you step through the other side of the curtain and the show’s over, your “real life” begins. You shower, change into your clothes, and you’re off to the hotel or the next town. There’s seclusion in that cycle. It’s like a spinning wheel you can’t get off from, and I didn’t want to. There’s a loneliness that people can’t fully realize until they experience it themselves. It’s why I’ll always cherish the camaraderie between the performers and production crew in this business.
During the ’70s, ’80s, and ’90s, we didn’t have the time off performers have today. It was almost impossible to have a life outside the business. It’s still tough now, don’t get me wrong, but back then, it felt like we were all we had. I loved the nightlife. I loved to travel, and I quickly realized that the more I was seen in public in true story-line persona, the more success I enjoyed.
There was a time when it backfired, like when famous wrestler and promoter Carlos Colón booked me to perform in Trinidad. To help promote the match, Carlos told me to tape an interview segment where I said something bad about Trinidad. When the camera was rolling, I said how I was the Nature Boy and Trinidad had nothing for me. I was the World Champion, and the people of Trinidad should consider themselves lucky that I was going to their country.
A few weeks later, I got off the plane in Trinidad, and the police arrested me because I said bad things about Trinidad on television. I tried to explain to them that I had never been there before and that it was just “for the show.” They kept me in a jail cell for two hours until Carlos came to get me.
Everyone dealt with the road schedule differently. We make choices. There are some of our brothers and sisters who went into their hotel rooms and never came out. Seeing so many friendly faces and feeling this overwhelming sense of adulation from the fans this week made me think of how lucky I’ve been. Shawn dedicated every waking moment of the last three months to me. This was his idea: he asked to work with me; he came up with building the story line and creating the flow. I hounded Shawn every week backstage at TV. I’d say to him, “It’s me, you’re paired with me, WrestleMania … how are you doing?”
Shawn would look at me and say, “Not good.” Then we’d laugh. We were so happy to be sharing this moment.
During the months leading up to Wres
tleMania, WWE devoted so much time to making my final match a special part of that historic night. I couldn’t let the company down. I couldn’t let Shawn down, or my family, or my fans. Most of all, I couldn’t let myself down. That match was bigger than any main event title defense I ever made. It was greater than any match when I helped establish a new star in a territory or fought to maintain the prestige of the NWA World Championship, or show WWE the man they had in the Nature Boy. This was defending my career and my legacy in an industry that held my life’s work. It is the guardian of everything I ever dreamed about doing and everything I ever accomplished. When I think of our business, I think of performing every night. You’re only as good as your last performance.
I needed to summon all my self-confidence one final time to be the performer, even at fifty-nine years of age, I knew I could be. I gave one last look in that mirror and said, “Damn it, one more time. Let’s go.”
Going through the talent entrance at the Citrus Bowl was like moving in slow motion. People were so kind, stopping to wish me well and let me know that they were looking forward to my match. I knew I’d be back doing things with the company, but the realization that today would be my last day in the business as a WWE Superstar loomed over me like an albatross around my neck.
I caught up with my kids backstage. It was wonderful being with the four of them. It was the first time in a while that all of us were together in the same place, especially for more than one day. The kids were looking forward to my match. I couldn’t wait to see them onstage, greeting the crowd with the Hall of Fame inductees.
Before I went into the locker room, we ran into Snoop Dogg. Snoop is one of my favorite people and someone who’s very respectful when he comes to our shows. He loves WWE and always wants to do more when he’s scheduled to appear on WWE programming. Snoop was with us today at WrestleMania to serve as the master of ceremonies for the Playboy BunnyMania Lumberjill Match.
