Second Nature

by Ric Flair

  I so appreciated that WWE would even have the conversation with me about balancing outside opportunities with contracted work for the company. I felt an enormous outpouring of goodwill from the public and different companies after my match with Shawn in Orlando. It gave me an enormous sense of pride. I was even honored on the floor of the US House of Representatives by Sue Myrick of Charlotte. Within a couple of weeks of being home, I made my first appearance as a WWE ambassador in Washington, D.C. WWE won an award at the GI Film Festival, an event that celebrates the lives of veterans in films, for its annual Tribute to the Troops.

  Something else I looked forward to was continuing my son Reid’s training for a career in the business. From an early age, Reid, more than any of my other kids, loved wrestling. Reid, whom I called Champ, jumped at the opportunity to come to shows with me. He moved even faster at the possibility of being on TV as part of a story line, along with being seen getting out of a limo with me or being at ringside.

  Reid was a superb athlete. The sport he excelled in more than the others was amateur wrestling. He won the AAU National Tournament when he was a child. He wore that medal around his neck when he appeared in the ring beside Arn Anderson on Monday Nitro. When Reid was twelve, he was invited to Japan for the Japan Nationals by the legendary professional wrestler and great amateur competitor Dick “the Destroyer” Beyer. Reid did a homestay in Japan for ten days and was part of Team Destroyer. He won a silver medal. Throughout high school, my son was one of the top-four amateur wrestlers in the country in his weight class.

  Reid graduated from Blair Academy, one of the preeminent private schools in the United States, which also boasted one of the best amateur wrestling programs anywhere.

  After his freshman year of college, he wanted to pursue a full-time career in the business. I was hesitant because I wanted him to finish school. But if he applied himself like he had to amateur wrestling, he would make it.

  In my career, there have only been a few truly great amateur wrestlers. Two who come to mind are Jack Brisco and Kurt Angle, who were able to make the transition from being great amateur champions and standout performers to World Champion professionals.

  Reid understood that he needed to combine the discipline, conditioning, and athleticism from his amateur background with charisma, speaking ability on the microphone, and the ability to tell a story. Reid was so quick-witted that I knew it was only a matter of time before he was, as we like to say in our line of work, “talking them [the fans] into the building.” And his athletic gifts and work ethic could back it up.

  Given the experience my son David had in WCW in the late ’90s, I wanted to make sure Reid was introduced to the industry correctly and had proper training so that when the time came, he would have the best opportunity to showcase his skills to be considered for a WWE contract.

  David was a great athlete growing up. He liked wrestling but did not express a strong desire to enter the business, which was fine. He didn’t have to. While I was in WCW, Eric Bischoff asked me if he could invite David to be part of something on TV. David said yes. It was supposed to be a onetime thing.

  David did such a good job, and it was so well received by the audience, that he was asked to do something else. He also received a nice check, which attracted him to the business. I was happy that he was paid a nice amount of money and that he wanted to pursue wrestling, but he never had the chance to properly train. David had a crash course, and when you’re on TV every week, your life becomes a whirlwind, especially on live TV. He wasn’t able to hone the skills that are needed to reach a certain level. I wish he had an opportunity to learn the business first. Instead, he came in on the fly and was more of a TV character who played his part very well. After WCW, David trained in WWE’s OVW development system, traveled to Japan, and lived in Puerto Rico for two years while wrestling.

  I was proud of David and the job he did working with Undertaker to help set the stage for our match at WrestleMania X8. I think by the time he got to OVW, there was so much talent there, and so much talent on WWE’s main roster between WWE Superstars and performers who came to the company from WCW and ECW, the company was already loaded with talent who were under multiyear contracts.

  Contrary to what people think, just because someone is the child of a former wrestler or promoter, that doesn’t mean he or she gets a contract. That may help get him or her a chance to submit footage or receive a tryout, but when it comes time for WWE to sign someone to a contract, none of that matters. You either perform or you don’t. And the generational kids have it harder because, one, they need to prove right away that they belong and aren’t getting preferential treatment and that they don’t expect any, and two, if a family member achieved any type of success in the business, he or she would constantly be compared to that person. Like any other form of sport or entertainment, it’s very difficult for children with famous parents to get a fair shot, and succeed, in the same industry.

  I think of the incredible paths blazed by second-generation stars who broke their families’ molds in the business: Nick Bockwinkel, Dory Funk Jr. and Terry Funk, the Guerreros, the Von Erichs, Curt Hennig, Ted DiBiase, Randy Savage, Barry Windham, and Bret Hart. Then you have third-generation Superstars like The Rock and Randy Orton. All these performers walked a tough road to reach success.

  I could spend days listing all the kids who tried to enter the business who either failed or couldn’t step out of their parents’ shadow. I think of Dusty’s son Dustin, a great talent. For years, Dustin couldn’t reach that next level because people saw his persona as the Natural, as a good performer, but a younger version of his dad. Dustin was stuck. That wasn’t his fault or his dad’s. Dusty’s one of the greatest of all time. It wasn’t until Dustin came to WWE for a second time, donned a gold-and-black spandex outfit, and became Goldust that all his range of talents as a performer were fully appreciated.

  I brought Reid to someone I trusted, close to home, who would train him the right way and help him develop a strong base in the fundamentals. That was George South.

  For years, George was a staple of Crockett television and an enhancement talent (a wrestler whose primary role is to lose matches) to the stars of the NWA. He worked for WWE too. In the ring, George could do anything and do it very well. He didn’t have lots of charisma, so the interview and showmanship skills were not there for him to make his way up the card. But if you needed someone to look great on television, someone to get experience in the ring, or just to show a great match on television, George was the guy you wanted standing on the other side of the ring. He was the best.

  It was toward the end of 1988 on the WTBS Saturday morning World Championship Wrestling show—the classic 9:05 a.m. EST time slot. Around that period, I didn’t wrestle full matches on that show very often, but I did interview segments. Dusty and I got into an argument before we went on the air. I told him that if I was having a match, I wanted someone who could go in the ring with me. I wanted George. Before we went out there, I told him, “Buddy, today you’re Ricky Steamboat.”

  From the opening bell, we were off to the races. We exchanged holds and chopped each other like lumberjacks cutting down redwoods. I did the flip over the turnbuckle, and George even slammed me off the top rope. We went almost fifteen minutes. Dusty yelled at me, “What are you doing?” I told him I wasn’t going to wrestle on the program and beat a guy with George’s skill in one or two minutes. No way. Sorry.

  Reid spent a lot of time training with George at his facility in Charlotte. George also trained Steamboat’s son, Richie. I also sent Reid to Missouri to train with Harley Race. I wanted to make sure he was learning different techniques and styles to make him more of a complete performer in the ring. I wanted to make sure Reid was ready for this and knew, up front, how hard it would be. Not like when I walked into Verne Gagne’s barn in Minnesota and thought I was going to toss some guys around and that would be it.

  The next stop for Reid was Tampa, Florida. WWE moved their development
al system to the Sunshine State to a place called FCW. Reid was there for a full workout: conditioning drills, work in the ring, and to meet with the training staff. As expected, they threw everything at him—free squats, push-ups, sit-ups, running the ropes, drop-down drills, you name it, and Reid did it all that day. And he was awesome. We flew back to Charlotte and were told we’d get a call soon with the news. Either Reid would get a developmental contract, or he needed to continue his training elsewhere and come back.

  I think all this was hard for my son David. This was another instance of my being able to spend more time with Reid than I had with him. I regret that. David deserved better.

  A week or so after our trip to Tampa, I got a call from Stephanie McMahon. Stephanie told me that Reid’s workout was, from a physical standpoint, viewed as a success. Stephanie added how impressed everyone was with him physically and how well he carried himself personally. I knew this, but it felt great hearing someone else say those things about my son. Especially from someone like Stephanie, who’s a fourth-generation member of the McMahon family. What she said next was something I never expected to hear in a million years.

  “Ric, Reid failed the drug test.”

  I stood there. Silent. I replied, “What? There must be a mistake.” I didn’t know all the things that could come up as a positive or a false positive. All I knew was how hard Reid worked to get to that point. We scheduled a second test to rule out the possibility of a false positive.

  The next time my phone rang from a WWE number, I thought it was going to be regarding my next ambassador appearance. Instead, it was an invitation to appear on Raw during the story line between Shawn and Chris Jericho. Even with the work I was doing, being away from everyone at TV for three months felt like an eternity.

  Following our career-threatening match in Orlando, Shawn entered into story lines with new opponents based on him being the one who retired me. Batista confronted Shawn and said he took Shawn retiring me and calling me Old Yeller personally, and that Shawn was selfish. Batista continued and said he should’ve talked me out of doing the match at WrestleMania and that he’d trusted Shawn to do the right thing, and that he’d never trust Shawn again. WWE let fans text their vote if they felt Shawn did the right thing in retiring me, which was a fun way to incorporate the fans in the story line. Batista and Shawn had their match at Backlash. Chris Jericho was the special guest referee.

  The story, as it is known to do, took an interesting twist when, during the match, Shawn faked an injury to help secure a victory. Since Chris was the referee, this gave Chris a superb entry point into the story and a way to be at odds with Shawn. On Jericho’s talk show segment, “The Highlight Reel,” he berated Shawn with insults and said he was a poor excuse for a human being. The final wave of the attack came in the physical form when Chris attacked Shawn. The parting shot was when he threw Shawn into the flat-screen TV and shattered the screen into pieces. Chris did a tremendous job of assuming the role of ruthless villain.

  The next week, Chris told the fans he was punishing Shawn for their sins and what he was going to do to Shawn was their fault. It was such a well-delivered interview. Chris continued to taunt Shawn. He continued to insult the crowd. And that’s where I came in.

  I was back at Gorilla Position, waiting to make my entrance. I had that familiar feeling: goose bumps. I waited for my cue, and when my music hit, it was like I never left. Walking down that aisle to the ring, feeding off the energy from the crowd, it felt tremendous. I had to remain composed during the fans’ standing ovation. Chris and I had to go to work. In this instance, since I couldn’t have a match with him in the ring, I did the next best thing—I challenged him to a fight in the parking lot. I dropped my famous elbow on my jacket, rolled out of the ring, and walked up the ramp, through the backstage area, and outside. Chris followed me, and right before he walked through the doors of the arena, he crossed paths with Paul. It was a great stare-down between the two. This set them up to have a match later that night, and in the story line, Vince kicked me out of the building, since I was retired. I was just getting my engine running when my part came to an end, but it felt good to be back. Through my performance, I wanted to do my part to further what Chris and Shawn were doing and to let the fans know how much that ovation meant to me.

  The match Chris and Shawn had at WrestleMania XIX was phenomenal. Two of the very best had what many consider to be the match of the night that year. Their work together now would be some of the best of the year.

  I returned to Raw the next week to be onstage with Vince. This was during his “McMahon’s Million Dollar Mania.” Each week, Vince awarded a lucky caller his own money, right there on live television. At the end of the segment, Vince would give away a total of $1 million. Fans had to register through WWE’s website and then watch Raw. While the audience and everyone at WWE were happy to see me on television two weeks in a row, there was one person who wasn’t.

  Things became tense with Tiffany at home. At first, the company flew her first class with me to the different ambassador appearances. Some of the guys asked why they couldn’t have the travel for their wives paid for by the company and I could. Vince did that for me as a favor. I understood that gesture couldn’t cause unrest with anyone else and that I had to go on these appearances by myself or pay for her to come with me. She didn’t like being left home. When you bring your significant other on the road with you, or during special times of the year, they think it’s like that all the time, that there are parties, receptions, and huge dinners like at WrestleMania weekend, or when I made ambassador appearances.

  The “When does Ric Flair end and Richard Fliehr begin?” conversation continued to come up. Even when it wasn’t brought up verbally, I could feel her frustration. It became a constant struggle. Tiffany felt the time had come for me to be comfortable in public as Richard Fliehr. I understood what she meant. I didn’t feel she understood the complete meaning, the gravity, of letting the Nature Boy go. To me, without Ric Flair, there was no success for me as a person. If I couldn’t be Ric Flair, then who would people want to see at appearances, who would walk out in front of a capacity crowd on WWE programming when my music hit?

  Tiffany expected me to retire, do some appearances, go on WWE TV once in a while, and the rest of the time I’d be home with her. I think she also felt like that was going to happen immediately. I have to be able to be me. Whether I’m working or have a day off, I’m up at 6:00 in the morning, ready to go. That’s who I am. The thought of sitting home sounded more like a prison sentence than a luxury that I earned thanks to years of hard work. One night we got into an argument, and I told her, “I’ll be Richard Fliehr when I’m dead. How’s that?”

  There was something else I was dealing with in my marriage. This was far beneath the surface, something that very few people knew about.

  When Tiffany and I began dating, I moved her from San Diego back to Charlotte. Since this was a major sign of a commitment from me to her, I asked Tiffany if she’d had any relationships or close ties with anyone in Charlotte, before our marriage, who I’d know. We weren’t high school kids. Obviously, she had other relationships. At that point, I had lived in Charlotte about thirty years. I wanted to know if there were people I knew in the city: people I did business with, professional associates, organizations I supported, and even on a personal level. I wasn’t asking so I could criticize or judge; I wanted to know ahead of time so that there wouldn’t be any uncomfortable situations. She told me, “Oh, no, I would’ve told you that. I wasn’t with anyone in Charlotte. After you ended things the first time, I was heartbroken, and I moved out here [to California].”

  I moved her back to Charlotte, and we got married in 2006. One night we went to Morton’s Steakhouse for dinner. We saw a friend of mine, and right away I could sense something wasn’t right. Something was just off. I didn’t say anything.

  Contrary to what people may think who’ve seen me on TV, away from the cameras, I’m not a confrontational person.
For better or worse, my biggest thing was that I always wanted to have fun in whatever I was doing. I had no problem over the course of my life leading the charge to the bar, having too much fun, like one time I was having dinner at the Palm in Charlotte with “Mean” Gene and the drinks were flowing. For laughs, I took my jacket off, took of my shirt, and really turned things up—and off came the pants, right there in the restaurant. I did that a few other times when I was out with Gene. He ended up coining the phrase, “Uh-oh, there goes the laundry.” That’s a different type of scene—of having too much fun. But I wouldn’t cause a scene, like getting into an argument, in a restaurant over something personal.

  The next day, I was flying to Europe for a WWE tour. Tiffany was flying there the next day to meet me. Before I left, I called my friend we’d seen at Morton’s. I said, “I know this sounds crazy, but were you with Tiffany at any point?”

  He answered, “Do you want to know the truth?”

  I said, “Yes. What the hell’s the matter with you? Of course I want to know the truth.”

  He told me that while Tiffany lived in San Diego, he flew out there once and spent a few days with her. This was someone who I thought was a good friend of mine. I said okay, got on the plane, and let it go. I thought that it wasn’t necessary to start an argument, and again, we weren’t kids.

  Over time, when we attended different functions or went out to dinner, there was an awkward feeling whenever we saw certain people. That continued to intensify. It reached a point where it felt like the floodgates had opened. Each time it happened, I asked Tiffany about it. Her answer was always the same. There was nothing for me to be concerned about. I didn’t understand why she wasn’t being truthful. We were friends before we entered into a relationship. We told each other we were going to be together and that we wanted to get married. We went to see a minister. We went to counseling. I thought that would make things better. It didn’t.