Second Nature

by Ric Flair

  When J. J. said, “Naitch, come on up here and tell them what’s causing all this,” it felt like I was where I should be, on WWE’s beautiful stage, before a packed house of so many friendly faces.

  I had to tell a funny story, or the emotion of the evening was going to get to me. I told everyone how I was remarried since the last time I was inducted in 2008. I shared with the audience the story about how Tiffany started an argument with me over the phone because I was going to the bar with John Cena. Tiffany asked, “Are you ever going to grow up?” I told her, “I’m not thinking about it anytime soon. Why?” Tiffany followed that up with, “What do you have in common with someone thirty years younger than you?” I paused, thought about that, and said, “I don’t know, but I’ll tell you this, you won’t find out tonight.” And I hung up the phone. Cena and I had a blast in that hotel bar in Indianapolis and stayed until 3:00 in the morning. Cena’s another one. It took him a little while to go out with me and enjoy a few drinks, but he could’ve run with the Horsemen!

  I have so many memories with Barry Windham. His father, Blackjack Mulligan, was a huge influence on me. I first met Barry when he was a kid. When he was fourteen, I told him to get a tuxedo and a chauffeur’s cap. I paid him to be my limo driver. Barry’s the most naturally gifted athlete I’ve ever been in the ring with. Barry stood six foot six and weighed 275 pounds. He could do anything in the ring, and that included going for an hour with me in the main event. Working with Barry was like working with Steamboat. He was that good. I was so proud to see Barry put his Hall of Fame ring on backstage. Now he has one just like his dad’s.

  Tully Blanchard was another second-generation performer. His dad, Joe, ran Southwest Championship Wrestling. Tully was a master technician in the ring. He was the type of villain who was not afraid to get the crowd riled up. In fact, Tully may have loved doing that more than the rest of us. And the team Tully formed with Arn is one of wrestling’s greatest duos.

  As respected as Arn Anderson is, as unanimously highly regarded as he is within our business, it’s not enough. Arn deserves more recognition. That night, he took his rightful place in the Hall of Fame. I can’t say it enough: Arn Anderson is the brother I never had. For more than twenty-five years, people have come up to me and said that Arn was their favorite Horseman. I’ve said the same thing to each person every time: “He’s mine too.”

  I think the Horsemen will go down as the greatest faction of all time. We loved the business. We couldn’t wait to get to that arena every night and perform, and we couldn’t wait to go out and party after the matches. I was honored that our work was recognized by WWE. That night served as another reminder that there’s nothing like the respect of your peers.

  After the Hall of Fame ceremony, the kids and I had dinner with John Laurinaitis—or, as some fans know him, Johnny Ace. I’ve known John since he was a performer in the NWA and WCW. To fans of our industry who follow what goes on in Japan, John was a top star for All Japan Pro Wrestling in the ’90s. He’s also the brother of Road Warrior Animal. After John retired from the ring, he worked behind the scenes in WCW and came to WWE in 2001.

  At dinner, Reid told Johnny what he had been doing: training, getting booked on more independent shows, and using the internet and social media to contact promoters to book more dates outside the Carolinas. John knew how much Reid wanted another opportunity to try out for the company. They continued to talk about what Reid needed to do, and Johnny gave him some suggestions on how he could get more experience.

  Then all of a sudden, Johnny asked Ashley why she wasn’t in the business. I didn’t know what to say. She was never attracted to it, but for some reason, she seemed interested in hearing more about what Johnny was saying—that they were always looking for people with great athletic backgrounds and that she should consider it if it was something she might want to become involved in.

  I tried telling him that wrestling was not Ashley’s thing. Then Reid encouraged her to consider it and said they could train together. I couldn’t believe the conversation I heard. I thought we were having dinner to talk about Reid getting back for a tryout. Now my daughter’s suddenly thinking about it? What? I told her that I knew she had the athleticism, but she couldn’t do this half-assed.

  * * *

  Being at the WWE Hall of Fame reaffirmed what I had been feeling through much of my time away from the company: I should’ve stayed with WWE. The way my retirement was handled, the Hall of Fame induction, the match with Shawn, and the reverence people continued to show me really struck a chord. With everything WWE did for me in making that possible, WrestleMania in Orlando should’ve been the final time people saw me walk that aisle in my robe, trunks, and boots. I never should have left WWE and worked for another company. I was given the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to go out on top, and I didn’t take it. That’s a regret I’ll always have.

  The next morning, which was the familiar day after WrestleMania, I didn’t feel right. I felt like I should’ve been going to the building that afternoon for Raw—not to the airport to go home.

  When I returned to TNA, there were still communication issues with management. There were times when checks were late. During my time there, I received calls at the last minute to show up at events. I would get a call on a Wednesday to go to an event the next day—and there was no advertising in place to announce my appearance. I’d get to the building, and people in the locker room and other TNA employees didn’t even know I was booked to be there.

  The people at TNA were very nice, and they tried hard to build the company. I had a great time working with many of the people there. I wanted to do more with Fortune since the group was so talented. I made some great friends. I gained enormous respect for people like AJ Styles, Bobby Roode, James Storm, Frankie Kazarian, Jay Lethal, Samoa Joe, Christopher Daniels, and others. Like many young stars I worked with in WCW, I hoped they’d all get the chance to make it to the big time before their careers were over.

  The day-to-day dealings at TNA became more tedious than anything else. It’s impossible to experience the same level of professionalism and commitment as you do working for WWE. I called Bruce Prichard. I thanked him for everything TNA did for me and expressed my gratitude to him for his personal efforts on my behalf. I had to be honest. I just said, “I need to go home.”

  7

  ON MY WAY HOME

  I never thought I’d have two children training to get into the business at the same time.

  January 2013

  The year 2012 was marked by a series of highs and lows. I never dreamed that I’d be a two-time inductee into the WWE Hall of Fame. Having a Hall of Fame ring for each hand didn’t seem real. It was another moment that WWE and the fans supplied me with enough adulation to last a lifetime.

  I asked Paul if Ashley could call him about entering WWE’s developmental program. I knew he would be honest and a little tough with her over the phone. He always made sure that people knew what to expect when they decided to pursue a wrestling career. I just wanted him to know how much I appreciated it and that it was okay if he took a hard line with her. I really had no idea what to expect from Ashley.

  Paul described the countless obstacles that Ashley would have to confront: the constant physical pain and exhaustion; the isolation from family and friends; the damage to her marriage; and the difficulty of being Ric Flair’s daughter. He told Ashley that she’d be starting from the bottom and that she shouldn’t expect to receive credit for anything positive. For someone just beginning, it couldn’t have sounded much bleaker. But Ashley couldn’t be deterred; she still wanted to try it.

  I had mixed feelings about my daughter entering this business. It wasn’t a matter of her being successful with the right preparation and dedication. I didn’t want her to get hurt. The physical toll wrestling takes is indescribable. I know I’m fortunate to wake up every morning pain-free. That’s rare.

  Emotionally, I didn’t want her to face the inevitable criticisms and comparisons be
cause she was my daughter. I know that was a factor that both my sons had to deal with. People did not give them the chance to develop. They were immediately compared to me. Reid handled it the best way he could, but I knew it was difficult for him. Negative comments in the early stage of his career along with the anonymity of the internet and social media just made it worse. I didn’t want Ashley to endure that kind of undeserved—and unjust—scrutiny.

  Not to be discouraged under any circumstances, my daughter reported to WWE for training in Tampa. Before she left, we had a crash course at a facility in Charlotte so she would not be completely unprepared when she got there: five hundred free squats, conditioning drills, and learning the basics.

  During one of our sessions, I stood in the corner of the ring and watched her and Reid work on something together. I couldn’t believe that both my kids were going to give it their all so they could be in the wrestling business.

  Unfortunately, not everything in my personal life was this positive. The incident that took place with Jackie a few months after we got married was not a onetime occurrence. In April of 2012, shortly after my induction into the WWE Hall of Fame, Jackie was pulled over for reckless driving and driving while impaired. She blew a 0.21 on the Breathalyzer. Since the car was in my name, I couldn’t get automotive insurance for a period of time.

  Roughly two months after that, there was another domestic incident in our home. Jackie and I got into an argument. She went down a line of martini glasses and smashed them into her head. She said she was going to make herself bleed and then call the police and tell them I beat her up. That’s when I realized that when she was angry, she was capable of anything. Her violent, unpredictable behavior triggered a very disturbing, unsettled feeling. We separated the next day.

  All told, Jackie had gone to jail three times. These incidents, and the circus-like media attention they attracted, did irreparable damage to my personal and professional reputation. Product endorsements came to a halt. A representative from Coca-Cola informed me that even though I was not at fault in this situation, the decisions I made could adversely affect the Coca-Cola brand. The company terminated our relationship.

  By the end of the year, my fourth marriage was over. Signing the necessary paperwork made it official. I couldn’t believe I had rushed into marrying Jackie. Why did I marry her? When it came down to it, I walked down the aisle with a woman I didn’t really know. It had been a terrible mistake.

  After my relationship with Jackie ended, I slipped into a downward spiral. I couldn’t be by myself. I didn’t like the person that I had become. And when I look back, I don’t know how I ended up in that place. The only antidote was to go out and party, be with other people, and escape my insecurities.

  Being around the bar and restaurant scene was a way for me to break free from reality and the mess I had created.

  When I was younger, wrestling was always easy for me; it was what I did from 11:00 p.m. to 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. that sometimes caused an issue. Many of my contemporaries are either really hurting after years of punishment in the ring, or they’re no longer with us because of the choices they made. This was a time during my career that I started to hurt myself.

  I went out every night for a month. Each evening, a different woman spent the night with me in my home. Some people may think that’s a dream come true or really impressive. It’s not. While I had a wonderful time with each of them, I never felt more lost in my life. It was like I didn’t have an identity. I tried to fill a void. It was a coping mechanism. I was not making good choices. I soon realized that it didn’t pay to be the Nature Boy the way it did in my younger days, especially in the ’80s, when I lived by the mantra of ladies, ages eighteen to twenty-eight, no boyfriends, no husbands, the Marriott. That was a wonderful way of life.

  Thankfully, I refocused on work and on my kids. That’s when I saw a friend who I hadn’t seen in a long time.

  I met Wendy Barlow in 1993 when I returned to WCW. She was cast to play the character of “Fifi the French Maid” for my talk show segment, Flair for the Gold. Wendy was gorgeous … she reminded me of Elizabeth Taylor in the film The Last Time I Saw Paris.

  Before Wendy entered the wrestling business, she studied at the prestigious Sorbonne School in Paris, France. She was fluent in French. Wendy brought a special level of cultural authenticity to the role of “Fifi.”

  When the lights were on and the cameras were rolling, Wendy played her part so well that fans wondered if she spoke English. She escorted me to the broadcast area for interview segments, and accompanied me to the ring for my matches. Wendy was awesome.

  We worked together for a year and became great friends. In 1994, Wendy left the business to start a family and pursue other interests.

  Twenty years later, and after some divorces, Wendy and I found one another. We got to know each other again. Wendy has four incredible children: Sophia, Sebastian, Paris, and Summer. She understood how important my children were to me. Wendy also knew how large of a part my career played in my life. She was so instrumental in helping me beginning to make certain adjustments and becoming more comfortable with life outside the ring. We started to see each other.

  Before we got back in touch, Wendy returned to wrestling. She made select appearances at independent shows and autograph signings. At some events, she was Reid’s valet for his matches.

  At the end of the year, I surprised fans with my return to WWE TV. A week before Christmas, I presented the Slammy Award for “Superstar of the Year” to John Cena on Monday Night Raw.

  The Philadelphia crowd received an added bonus when CM Punk and his manager, Paul Heyman, arrived on the scene. Punk was in the midst of his WWE Championship reign. It was fun mixing it up with him on the microphone. His work was always very good. I liked Punk. He always treated me well. He was always very respectful of my career. I had a good time tagging with him on an episode of ECW during my retirement story line in 2008. The segment concluded with me slapping the Figure Four on Paul Heyman, whose on-air persona was always perfectly summarized by Jim Ross as “easy to dislike.”

  It was great getting back to Raw. As far as WWE and I were concerned, we returned to the understanding that we’d had before I left: the company was going to use me for different things, and that for now, it would be on a pay-per-appearance basis, which was perfect, given where I was going a month after I left the City of Brotherly Love.

  A few days before New Year’s, I had a follow-up call with a good friend of mine about wrestling in Japan. This time, I was going to make it to the match. Or so I thought.

  I first met Keiji Mutoh, also known as the Great Muta, in the ’80s. His debut as Muta on WTBS featured him along with his managers Hiro Matsuda and Gary Hart in an interview segment with Jim Ross. As Muta, he was billed as the son of Japanese legend the Great Kabuki. Muta was a tremendous performer. He blended the athletic, physical Japanese style with the charisma and performance nuances that the American style often required for a talent to be successful in the States. He returned to WCW several different times in the ’90s. I loved working with him.

  During this period, Mutoh oversaw the All Japan office. It was Mutoh who contacted me in the summer of 2008 after my match with Shawn in Orlando. He made me an amazing offer: wrestle him as part of a ten-day All Japan tour. I turned it down.

  When he called me in the fall of 2012 to see if I wanted to be his tag team partner for a match in the new year, I gladly accepted his offer.

  I always had a wonderful relationship with All Japan Pro Wrestling, going back to when Shohei “Giant” Baba owned the company. I had performed many times for All Japan in the ’70s and ’80s.

  The fans remembered my matches against Baba, Steamboat, Genichiro Tenryu, Jumbo Tsuruta, Riki Choshu, Kabuki, the Funks, Bruiser Brody, Stan Hansen, Harley Race, and a Champion-versus-Champion match when Rick Martel was the AWA Champion for Verne Gagne and I entered the ring with the NWA’s ten pounds of gold around my waist. Many of those matches were two-out-of
-three falls. Those are just some of the great memories I have of competing in an All Japan ring.

  In those days, the relationship with All Japan was so strong that I wrestled Brody in St. Louis for exclusive broadcast on Japanese television.

  * * *

  As Reid and I got ready to go to the airport for our trip to Japan, I thought about a period when I didn’t want to tell WWE if Reid was in the hospital or in treatment. I knew they’d help us. They wanted to help. I wasn’t sure if that would prevent them from hiring Reid when he got better.

  At one point, I confided in Paul and Shawn about Reid’s situation. They spoke to him like he was their own son. I know how much that meant to Reid, because he idolized them both.

  There was a time when I believed that my son wasn’t going to beat his addiction. I tried to mentally prepare myself for that phone call, when I would hear someone’s voice telling me that my son had passed away. Our family didn’t give up. Reid didn’t give up. He wanted to keep fighting and doing whatever he could to land on the right path and stay there.

  The medical bills for Reid kept coming. It seemed as though when one was paid, another one appeared. When I totaled all of them, they added up to more than $300,000. I didn’t care about the money. I cared about my son. But you need money to keep things going.

  You’re not given advance notice when someone relapses. You go through another sleepless night, another chilling day, trying to figure out why your son didn’t come home and where he is and hoping if, God willing, you find him, he’s still alive. You have to get help—right away. And you need that money available immediately. Our family lived with this every day. As Reid’s father, I was in a perpetual state of anxiety. I know his mother was too. We all tried to do our part in helping Reid beat this.

  The staff at these rehabilitation centers do incredible work in helping people fight against the disease of addiction. Those services require money that’s paid up front. Some of these treatment centers averaged between $30,000 and $50,000 per stay.