Second Nature

by Ric Flair

  By the time school started, cheerleading and volleyball were in full swing. I knew how to manage schoolwork and a team sport, and I was beyond ready to get my driver’s license in April. During the fall, I rode with the high school girls in their cars. The Land Rover my parents bought me just sat in the garage unless I had a girlfriend drive it or my parents allowed me to take it to school with my learner’s permit tucked in my wallet. I was the only fifteen-year-old who had a brand-new car, but I couldn’t drive it. It was torture. I counted down the days to freedom.

  The Charlotte Allstars continued to travel the country and, as I like to say, “collect hardware.” More awards filled the trophy case back at our gym.

  But as a ninth grader, my sights were set on another goal: to be a starter on the Providence Day varsity volleyball team—the only freshman who played varsity.

  I wanted to outhustle everyone. I looked forward to showing what I could do on the court. When it came to high school sports, it was all about playing on varsity teams.

  On the first day of tryouts, I met Ashley Flohouse, the standout senior on the team. Ashley was the top female volleyball and basketball player at our school. She was tall, blond, athletic, and intelligent. When she drove me home in her 4Runner, we listened to JLo’s “Jenny from the Block” and Nelly’s “Hot in Herre” together. It was then that I realized that I started to have a lot more fun with older girls than the kids my age.

  Even though I wasn’t on the team yet, Ashley and I talked about how the team was going to have a great season. She told me about the spandex shorts that were part of the varsity uniform and the tie-dyed socks we’d be wearing. She also told me about the teams who were good in our conference.

  On the last day of tryouts, the group headed to the track. Coach Coffee was timing the mile. My dad had come to tryouts every day and was so proud that as a freshman, I was competing for a spot on the varsity team. He couldn’t wait to see me fly off the starting line and leave everyone in the dust.

  None of the senior girls wanted to run. Since I wanted to hang out with them, I ran casually, joined them in singing songs, and basically goofed off. As I came up on the first row of bleachers, along the fence on the straightaway, I saw my dad’s face when he realized what was happening. He stood up, ran to the fence, and started pointing at me to “get my ass going.” I looked at him, totally embarrassed by his reaction. I gritted my teeth and pretended he wasn’t there. I clowned around on the rest of the laps. I knew I disappointed him. He was so angry he left me at practice.2

  Despite that showing on the final day of tryouts, I made the team and was the starting middle hitter on the Providence Day varsity girls’ volleyball team. It was time to work. The sport really ignited the competitor in me. The thought of losing a point, let alone a game, drove me to work even harder. There were times when losing a close game stayed in my mind more than a thrilling victory. It was either first place or no place. Now when I was at practice, I wanted to run the fastest, jump the highest, and be the best in every drill. I also liked cheering my teammates on and encouraging them to be better. One of the coaches at Carolina camp said, “Iron sharpens iron.”

  Toward the end of the season, one of the players’ parents told my dad about a new travel team. His daughter was the starting setter at Providence Day and had played on club teams for a few years. He told my dad that this team was going to be the best to come out of our area and featured the top high school players from all over Charlotte: Charlotte Elite.

  The idea of trying out for a team like that made me nervous, but the anticipation of stepping on the court and seeing how I’d do against players from all over Charlotte fueled me to train harder. I couldn’t wait!

  The first day of tryouts, I saw a girl hitting balls that sounded like they were going to implode. I heard the coach say, “Good job, Brittany, again. Just like that, one more time. Let’s go.” I played against her once that season and expected her to be at tryouts. Her name was Brittany Zahn.

  Brittany was a junior at Charlotte Catholic High School. Charlotte Catholic had one of the best volleyball programs in the city. Brittany was considered one of the ten best players in the country; she was known for being one of the hardest hitters in the game. All you needed to do was see her play to realize that distinction was well deserved. She had played volleyball since she was in the third grade and had a great mind for the game. Brittany’s presence on the court was intimidating. I was more than happy to have her on my side of the net.

  Once the team’s roster was set and we started practicing, we decided to ride together to and from practice, which meant Brittany let me ride with her and a couple of other girls, since I didn’t have my driver’s license yet.3

  Brittany didn’t care about what anyone thought of her. She didn’t know who my dad was, and she wasn’t interested. Sometimes I felt that other coaches and players were interested in me as an athlete because they really wanted to interact with him. Brittany just cared about playing volleyball.

  One night after eating dinner at my house, before I could ask her what she wanted to do, she was on the patio playing Rummy Cube with Aunt Francine. She fit right in with my family. Brittany and I became best friends.

  Travel teams were more intense than school teams. The level of competition was higher. One of club team players’ goals was to get recruited by college scouts while playing in the big tournaments. Club teams were a huge commitment in terms of time and money. You had to pay to try out and pay thousands of dollars in registration fees if you made the team. There were additional club fees, as well as coaches’ fees, and you had to pay for the uniform. That didn’t include travel expenses, hotels, and food.

  The commitment included driving an hour to UNC–Charlotte’s campus in north Charlotte for practice. We’d do fast-paced drills to perfect movement patterns, ball control, team chemistry, and basic fundamentals.4 Practice ended with conditioning drills. Every time.

  Right now, I’m reminded of running suicides in the gym and hearing the sounds of everyone’s sneakers on the gym’s wood floor. Picture being on the baseline of a basketball court: squat down like a catcher in baseball; shuffle from the ten-foot line on the court and then back to the baseline; shuffle to half-court and back; go to the ten-foot line on the other side of the court and back; and finish by shuffling the full length of the court and back to the baseline. It worked my core and my legs, and it built my endurance. Running suicides felt like second nature to me because of my training regimen. I wanted to finish first every time we ran them.

  Practice was two hours. We’d drive home, and I’d go straight to bed after dinner. Our games were on weekends. Once tournaments began, our team spent a lot of time out of state. I loved being a part of Charlotte Elite and playing volleyball at such a high level. Being able to travel with Brittany made all the long hours worth it.

  * * *

  I never thought about how leaves changing color in the fall could be a metaphor for the changes in our lives.

  This was the first time that Reider and I were getting dropped off at different schools in the morning. I was in the ninth grade, and he was in the seventh grade. My brother did well in school when he applied himself. As he became well known as an athlete, his dedication shifted to sports, especially wrestling. My parents would argue about balancing school and sports. He and my parents talked a lot about how doing well in school was as important, if not more important, than sports.

  Reider also brought his mischievous nature into the classroom. While a few teachers didn’t always appreciate his fun-loving antics, he was a favorite with many of them. Reider had a kind nature, always stuck up for kids who were picked on, and had a natural charm. No one could stay mad at him. He finished middle school a few minutes down the road in a less strict environment while continuing success as one of the top amateur wrestlers in the country.

  At Providence Day, a senior boy who was part of Ashley Flohouse’s group of friends asked me to go to homecoming with him. I went to As
hley’s house beforehand to get my hair and makeup done. All the parents took pictures. This was one of the most exciting days of the year and one that all the girls from Charlotte Allstar Cheerleading used to talk about. There was the varsity football game, where the homecoming king and queen were crowned; a halftime show with floats that celebrated the history of the school; and class reunions. And now I was going to be there. Nothing happened for me to contribute to the conversations the older girls had during cheerleading trips, but I was proud of my “upperclassman” story as a freshman. Being in high school definitely had a different feeling to it.

  I continued to play by the rules at home. On occasion, I’d push the envelope and argue with my parents about a fair curfew time or debate if I spent too much time on my laptop or cell phone. I was dedicated to one sport, so I had a little extra time, but one night, something got into me after I came home from a school football game.

  After my parents left to go out for dinner, I called one of the girls from volleyball to see what everyone was doing. Add a couple of calls between friends, and suddenly, all the seniors were at my house. In what felt like a few minutes, my parents’ house resembled a scene from Can’t Hardly Wait. All types of music blared through the surround-sound speaker system. People were swimming in the pool, sitting in the hot tub, hanging out on both levels of the deck, and taking self-guided tours of the house. Kids kept pointing at the lights that lined the shape of the pool and changed color.

  I felt really comfortable, like my first high school party was a huge success. I figured I could do this whenever my parents had weekend plans. It was almost too easy. Then came the crash back to earth.

  I was on the deck, and someone asked, “Who drives a silver, four-door Benz?” I looked and saw the distinct shape of the headlights. I knew who it was right away: my parents.

  People started to file out the front and back doors of the house. A group of kids scaled the deck. The music suddenly faded from the speakers. My dad turned everything off, including the hot tub. My mom burned a hole right through me with her eyes. My dad combed the house for any stragglers. Everyone left. He took away the cases of beer cans that were in his memorabilia room and on top of the pool table. Despite the shocking discovery that I had thrown a party of this size while he and my mom were at dinner, he was furious but surprisingly calm and composed.

  He told me how irresponsible it was to have a party and that this was not the behavior of someone who wanted to play Division I college athletics and whose goal was to be the best athlete she could be. He took the twenty-four packs of Icehouse beer and poured them down the drain, two at a time.

  Unless it was a party for one of my teams, hosted by my parents, I was forbidden to have large groups of people at the house. This was the first time that I had really broken any major rules, but I wasn’t concerned about suffering any consequences. I fit in with the older kids. Everyone had fun.

  My parents didn’t ground me, but I got the feeling that I was skating on very thin ice and that the next thing I did would have far worse consequences. I kept a low profile and certainly didn’t ask if I could go shopping for a while.

  My dad was home more than usual during this time. The previous March, he’d had his last match in WCW on Nitro against one of his greatest opponents, Sting. When he came home from that event in Florida, he explained that WCW was gone.5 It had been taken over by a company that he worked for when we were small kids—WWE. Beyond that, Reider and I didn’t know anything about the details or the historical significance of the buyout.

  We were used to my dad being home almost every week. To us, it meant he was home a little more. We thought it was great. He’d bring my lunch to school every day—a grilled jumbo shrimp salad and a bottle of Evian water—from my favorite place: Dean & DeLuca. He’d always put a few Gatorades and a couple of protein bars in my bag for practice. He was always there for me.

  We spent the weekend getting our house ready to host Thanksgiving. My dad had been in his office a lot the week before and said we might stay home from school on Monday. We had to keep that a secret. We didn’t know what to think: Were we going on a special family trip? Was one of dad’s friends coming to stay at our house? What could be so special that we would get to stay home from school?

  Monday morning came, and my mom told us the news—we weren’t going to school. After lunch, we all got into the car and drove to the Charlotte Coliseum. My dad was going to his first day of work at WWE … since 1993. He was so excited. He was in one of his custom-made suits and handmade handkerchiefs. Reider and I asked if he was sure he had everything he needed. We didn’t see the bags for his robe and wrestling gear.

  We went back that night for the show, our first Monday Night Raw. We didn’t know what to expect and didn’t know anyone who was in the ring. When we heard my dad’s music, we jumped to our feet. I’ll always remember the cheers from the crowd when he appeared. It gave me chills. Dad announced he was Mr. McMahon’s “business partner.” The segment ended with my dad in the ring with someone who was new to Reider and me, Stone Cold Steve Austin.

  Together, they enjoyed what he dumped down the sink a month earlier at my party. I learned in WWE they were called “Steve-weisers.” I didn’t know this was the same person my dad worked with years earlier in WCW. I never saw anyone like Stone Cold Steve Austin. He was so cool. He did whatever he wanted. It took me a little while to adjust to WWE and learn who everyone was. Monday Night Raw was nothing like Nitro. This was a whole new world.

  Just like that, my dad was back on television. In classic fashion, the next day at school, we were asked if our dad really owned half of WWE. That was such a special night for him and our family. It began a great tradition of attending WWE events, especially when Raw came to Charlotte.6

  By the end of cheerleading season, I stood about five feet eight inches tall. During my annual physical, my doctor told me I should hit another growth spurt during high school. I said to myself, Gosh. I’m a freshman. How tall am I going to be?

  As a cheerleader at that level, the goal was to be recruited by an NCAA Division I coed cheerleading program. I was confident in my ability, especially my tumbling, but I had to objectively look at what I was doing as an athlete and what could help me achieve my goal. I was already too tall to be recruited by a Division I coach for a coed squad.

  I didn’t think there would be enough time to devote to volleyball and continue cheerleading. I needed time in the summer to attend volleyball camps. I had to get as much time on the court as possible. Almost all the girls I competed against dedicated all their time to volleyball. I couldn’t bring myself to leave Charlotte Allstars.

  Every year during Christmas time, we had an end-of-season banquet. When awards were given out, there were a few I thought I could be in the running for: “Hardest Working,” “Best Attitude,” or “Best” at a certain aspect of cheering. There were so many hardworking, deserving girls on the team, I really didn’t think I was going to win anything. When Coach Brubaker announced the final award winner of the night, the team MVP, we all sat on the edge of our seats.

  Coach said, “And … our MVP for the 2000 season is…” Then he called my name. I looked around and thought, What? Everyone started clapping. I was a little embarrassed. I couldn’t believe I won. Coach Brubaker and my teammates made it possible for me to develop into a cheerleader who was capable of winning that type of award. It was one of the times that what my dad said on television applied to real life: “There’s nothing like the respect of your peers.”

  I felt like I had just come off my best season. The rest of the night I asked myself, How can I leave this team? How can I say goodbye to a gym that—combining cheerleading and gymnastics—has been my home since I was five years old? I didn’t know if I was making the right decision. I tossed and turned all night.

  The next day, I said goodbye to Charlotte Allstars. Walking out of that gym was one of the toughest decisions I ever made. I knew if I looked back, I’d want to stay. Big
ger things were ahead if I was willing to put in the work.

  After all these years, my eyes still well up when I think about saying goodbye to Coach Brubaker and that team.7 Some of my favorite memories and most important lessons were learned from Coach Brubaker. They will stay with me forever.

  * * *

  Once the ball dropped on New Year’s Eve 2002, I had my own countdown: sweet sixteen—and my driver’s license! The winter dragged. I was so close to my birthday, I could blow out the candles on my cake. My truck that sat dormant in the garage was going to be set free! My dream car was the yellow Land Rover, the Defender 90, that Freddie Prinze Jr.’s character Zack Siler drove in the movie She’s All That.

  I was in the car with my parents, and we drove past the Rea Road shopping center. They waited for me to notice the Defender parked on the side of the road. It was the only one in town. We pulled into the shopping center, and I freaked out! I got my dream car for my sixteenth birthday. At that moment, my transition to adulthood, I thought, was complete. My birthday was on a Friday that year, so I immediately thought of what I was going to do once my training and volleyball were done. Unbeknownst to me, my dad had one of the best sound system technicians in Charlotte install a custom-built surround-sound system. The car was tinted out front to back with limousine tint. I was the only freshman at school who had a car. I had to make sure my music was ready. Some of the artists you’d hear blaring from my car when I stopped at a red light were the Red Hot Chili Peppers, 50 Cent, Eminem, Nelly, the Dixie Chicks, Hootie & the Blowfish, Uncle Kracker, and Kid Rock. There’s nothing like the way a song sounds when you’re in the car.

  When a new CD came out, I drove to the SouthPark Mall to buy it. For some reason, those trips reminded me of my childhood. Grandmommy took Reider and me to the Eastland Mall to skate at the indoor ice rink after we watched the Winter Olympics. We used to love watching the Zamboni clean the ice and thought it would be fun to hop behind the wheel and go for a spin. The following year, I would start on my own clean slate.