THE GREATEST SPORTING SPECTACLE OF ALL TIME
BY
BOB WRIGHT
AUTHOR'S NOTE: And here we are, with the final story in the series; if you have been following along from the start and wish to put in a review, this will be your last chance. I hope that over these last few months, it has been pleasure for you the readers to bring the immortals of days gone by back to life in a sense, especially those who are no longer with us, and that I have done everyone I've featured justice.
All in-ring personas of wrestling personalities are registered trademarks of World Wrestling Entertainment, Inc. All lyrics are trademarked by their respective copyright holders. And now, one last time, let's go down to ringside and enjoy the show...
NOT THAT LONG AGO, IN AN ARENA NOT THAT FAR AWAY...
...ON WRESTLEMANIA DAY...
"Hello again, wrestling fans, 'Mean' Gene Okerlund here, and behind me stands the beautiful Pontiac Silverdome in Pontiac, Michigan," the commentator gestured proudly to the arena behind him, "In approximately six hours from now, the opening bell will ring on the greatest sporting spectacle of them all, WrestleMania. Twenty-one terrific matches will unfold over the course of at least the following three hours from that point, culminating with a tremendous world title match, with the champion, 'Nature King' Ric Flair, defending against the number one contender, 'Macho Man' Randy Savage. This afternoon will also mark the final match in the storied career of Andre the Giant, as he will team up with Tugboat to face the team of Earthquake and Big John Studd. All the weeks of hype are just about over, and the anticipation is now at just about at fever pitch; I'll readily confess my own anxiety is quite high, as I expect this will be one event to remember for years to come."
He took a deep, profound breath. "At this time, I would like to introduce the esteemed president of the World Wrestling Federation, Mr. Jack Tunney, for a few salient words; Mr. Tunney, if you will," he waved the company president forward, "How does it feel to be here, with WrestleMania finally upon us?"
"To be honest, Gene, I'm just as anxious as you are," Tunney confessed fidgeting with the bow tie on his formal suit, and for viewers at home, he could be seen sweating, "However, I have a feeling that what will unfold today will be forever memorable in the history of wrestling, one way or the other. And, I have reasonable expectations that, given the preliminary returns we have been receiving, that this WrestleMania may well break the world indoor attendance record, with the attendees to include approximately a dozen heads of state throughout the world, two dozen members of the United States Congress, and about forty celebrities."
"All right then, here's hoping we do break the world record. Now, as I understand, Mr. Tunney, in the wake of the tremendous advance publicity of WrestleMania, the World Wrestling Federation's roster is set to grow exponentially in the weeks to come?"
"And indeed, Gene, several of the talent we've signed recently will appear on camera today; when putting together the card for WrestleMania, I determined that, to fully reflect how much the WWF has expanded lately, those newcomers that have most stood out should rightly have their spot on the card. And not just in the ring either; as you yourself know, we have signed Memphis Wrestling legend Jerry 'the King' Lawler, and we have agreed to let him have some air time this afternoon at the commentators' table. Also, we have signed former Internal Revenue Service agent Irwin R. Shyster, who will be one of the persons signed to be in the corner of Ted DiBiase in his match with Roddy Piper today. Among the other talent we are close to signing to contracts include the team of the Heavenly Bodies; 'Sparkplug' Bob Holly, the nephew of famed NASCAR driver Thurman 'Sparky' Plugg; the man calling himself Skinner from the Everglades; from Japan, the self-proclaimed 'White Angel' Hakushi, and from Scandinavia, Ludvig Borga, all of whom I'm sincerely hoping will be a tremendous asset for wrestling fans everywhere. We are also considering a full-on expansion into both Canada and Mexico if circumstances permit."
"Now, in addition to the action in the ring, before the match, you will be honoring the legends of the sport to our worldwide TV audience; was it any trouble getting together the tremendous roster of talent you were able to assemble?"
"Well, we had a few all-stars that declined, but close to fifty of the greatest wrestlers that ever entered the ring will be feted in the pre-WrestleMania ceremony; it was my decision that to make this the greatest WrestleMania of all, it would be best to bring in those that helped elevate the sport to the heights it occupies today."
"Any final words, Mr. Tunney?"
"Again, I'd like to wish Hulk Hogan a strong recovery; my only disappointment with this year's WrestleMania to date is that his injuries sustained in the attack on himself and Elizabeth Hulette in the Funeral Parlor last month prevented him from stepping into the ring to face Ric Flair for the title, as many had been hoping; rest assured if you are watching, Hulk Hogan, that you are nonetheless with us here in spirit, and we are all wishing Randy Savage the best of luck in fulfilling the mission you were originally slated to undertake, and thus winning the world title..."
From his position flat on his back in his hospital bed, covered in bandages, Hulk stared glumly at the footage of Okerlund and Tunney on the TV screen before him. "Well, I'm not there, Mr. Tunney, and it's not the same as being there in spirit," he muttered miserably, "I don't care what the doctor said; I should be in the ring fighting Flair...!"
"Now Mr. Hogan, you know Dr. Patterson's instructions; you're not supposed to be up and about until your leg's good and healed," the nurse chided him as she entered the room with a tray of refreshments, "Can I get you anything?"
"Yeah, a nice stiff bourbon would be good," Hulk grumbled, twisting over on his side, "Anything to dull the pain of being unable to share in the biggest night in the history of wrestling..."
T-MINUS 4 HOURS TO THE OPENING BELL...
"Wow, just wow," a mesmerized Ricky Steamboat mumbled softly as he and the other members of the Mega Powers Rock 'n Wrestling Connection stepped through the curtain to stare around the inside of the Silverdome. Although still empty of fans at the moment, it was clear the WWF had anticipated a large showing; a sea of folding chairs were set up all around the ring in the middle of the arena floor, which coupled with the high seat capacity throughout the Silverdome gave a strong indication the world indoor attendance record might fall that evening. "I never thought this moment would come," the Dragon mused, walking up the wide red carpet leading towards the ring, his infant son cradled in his arms, "Over ninety thousand people here to see a wrestling card; all those years of working the territories, playing in front of the small crowds...any of the rest of you ever think we'd ever get to this?"
"To be honest, Ricky, never," Bret Hart mused, waving at the technicians working on the lights over the ring when they waved at him, "I guess I was thinking that it would never get any bigger than Stampede was at its height. Then when Mr. Tunney went national, and it all started to take off, I realized that something special was happening, and if we stayed onboard, we could go higher than anyone in the business ever went before. I'll confess I was just as upset when Mr. Tunney bought out Stampede as Bruce still seems to be, but if it leads to a special night tonight, it will have been worth it, as long as we all give the fans an experience of a lifetime."
"And win the titles, if what Ricky heard's true about the mob trying to take over tonight," Roddy Piper was frowning, "Ergo, I'm going to give it all to get the Million Dollar Belt off DiBiase even if they're not counting it as an official title."
"Just don't go overboard, Roddy; don't stoop down to DiBiase's level to get it," the Hitman advised him.
"Not to worry, Bret old buddy; I have a secret weapon," the Scotsman grinned, "And I intend to put it into play whenever it's convenient."
"OK then. Ricky, you have what it takes to beat Mr. Perfect for the Intercontinental belt; just keep hitting him as hard as you can, and stay out of Heenan's reach," Bret advised the Dragon. "Randy, Liz," he turned to the First Couple of wrestling, watching the camera operators working out their angles all around the Silverdome, "You probably have the biggest task, just in case the bet Mr. Tunney made with the mob comes down to the world title as the tiebreaker. I wish I could say it would be easy, but it won't be; Flair's going to pull out all the stops to hold on to the world title, and Blassie and Sherri are going to back him up with everything they've got. But I know you can beat Flair if you don't let him trigger your emotions, Randy, so just stay focused, and I know you'll pull it off."
"Yeah, I know I'm bringing him down tonight, Hitman, oooooooooohh yeeeeeeeeeaah," the Macho Man declared confidently, "You just watch your back with the Snakeman, Hitman; he knows every dirty trick in the book, and he'll do whatever it takes to try and not just beat you but end your career."
"Well he's not going to end my career, Randy; I'll make good and sure of that. You just make sure you win the gold by any fair and ethical means you can manage. And see, all you had to do was wait a little while longer than before, and now you have the title shot you wanted all along," the Hitman pointed out to him.
"Well, part of me didn't want it like this, with Hulk half-crippled in the hospital..." Savage admitted softly.
"It's OK, Randy; you're going out there for Hulk. Liz, you've trained him really well to this point; I know that...you OK?" Bret asked Elizabeth, who seemed close to tears.
"Oh, it's just...I never thought I'd be here either," she confessed, visibly overwhelmed to be in the Silverdome at that moment with what was about to come looming, "From the first time I started showing up to watch wrestling matches in high school and down near the local civic center, I never thought I'd go this far. All my friends told me, 'Wrestling, Liz? Why'd you want to waste your time with that? You'll never go anywhere with it.' And for a while, I almost believed them. And now, here I am, with a shot at the world title in front of almost a hundred thousand people..."
"And I'm gonna get you that title, like I promised you earlier in the year, yeah," Savage put an arm around her and pulled her close.
"I think you will, Randy," she smiled at him, "It's like a fairy tale, Bret, and I'm the star of the show," she confessed to the Hitman, "I just wish my parents had been able to show up and see me in person; they'll be watching at my brother's house, but it's just not the same as being here live..."
"Well, don't feel bad, Liz; Julie isn't coming either," Bret's expression fell deeply, "She went back to Regina to be with Michelle after we had another flare-up last week; at least she let Mom and Dad bring the kids; I would have been heartbroken if she'd denied them the honor of seeing me tonight..." He sighed and slumped his head against the railing alongside the entrance aisle. "I want to understand her, and I know it's extremely hard on her and the kids with me being on the road so long, but she doesn't try to understand things from my point of view either. I love her with all my heart, but we just...I don't know..."
"Well, hold in there, Hitman," Andre the Giant's oversized hand came down on the Canadian superstar's shoulder, "Maybe with time and effort, you two will sail through."
"I hope so, big guy. And how're you holding up?" Bret asked the Giant with concern, "It's not gnawing away at you, is it...?"
"Well, it's starting to set in that this is the last ride, Hitman," Andre confessed, staring with a longing expression at the ring, "Most of my life I've been stepping into the ring; I never thought it would end...but the doctor's right, I can't go on forever, and better to jump off the train while you're ahead of the game. But first, I've got to give Earthquake and Studd what they've had coming for a long time."
"And I think you will, old chap," Davey Boy Smith patted the Giant on the back encouragingly. "And don't let everything between Julie and you bring you down, brother," he informed Bret, "It's not like Diana and I have a perfect relationship either, after all."
"I know. And certainly Jim and Ellie are far from perfect too," Bret's expression did brighten, "And I have intended to go out there and win the match with Jake for Julie and the kids, even if she's not going to be here..."
"Excuse me, all of you, better head back to the locker room," a technician called down to them from the railing of the deck above the tunnel, "Word came over the wire they're going to start letting people in any minute now."
"Thank you, chap. "Well, we might as well go and get dressed for the event," the British Bulldog told his teammates, starting back towards the curtain, "I think it's going to be a night to remember for everybody."
"Just so as long as that doesn't mean the mob runs the entire sport of wrestling after tonight," Piper said, a steely, determined look on his face, "And let's all be on guard when we're in the ring; they could pull any trick to help the Million Dollar Corporation tonight..."
T-MINUS ONE HOUR...
"Ah, look at the rabble lining up to pour their money into the pot," Don Kennedesco Vincenelli smiled smugly at the massive crowds of fans streaming into the Silverdome, "Tonight's going to extremely profitable for all of us tonight, in more than one way," he told his inner circle inside his limousine, which cruised through the tollbooth and followed the line of other limos streaming towards the rear entrance of the dome. "How're the lines looking right now, Slick?" he asked his chief gambling officer, hunched over a computer by the door.
"We're breaking records in the annals of gambling already, boss," Slick flashed him a million dollar smile, "So far, the sheep have laid down in excess of fifty million, and that's probably going to double by the time the opening bell rings."
"Excellent, excellent," the don rubbed his fingers in anticipation, "And in about four hours time, I'll be in total control of the WWF, and from here on, every match in every single scheduled event will progress the way I want them to progress."
"As long as the Million Dollar Corporation holds up their end and keeps the belts for us," another goon spoke up.
"Well, we're going to be backing them up as needed, Vinnie. And there they are now," Don Vincenelli noticed his pawns standing by the rear entrance, waiting for him; he had requested a final get-together with them all before WrestleMania commenced in full. The managers were all decked out in special attire for the event: Freddie Blassie in a sequined black suit over a red shirt and pants, Jimmy Hart in a loud white suit with the WrestleMania logo emblazoned on the back and the names of all his charges scheduled to participate on the sleeves, Bobby Heenan in a sequined blue tuxedo and red bowtie; Sensational Queen Sherri in a black fur coat and tiara, and Paul Bearer in a particularly formal suit and tie. Behind them, the entire Million Dollar Corporation were already in their wrestling gear and looked ready to go. "Nice, very nice," Don Vincenelli admired their appearances, lingering in particular on Ric Flair's sequined purple robe encrusted with white feathers and inlaid with gold and precious gems and with arm flaps that when extended made him look like the sun was behind him. "The rest of you can go inside; I've got a few things to take care of," he told his high men in his organization and his extended family, who trudged in the back door, "And send the word to Tunney I want a word with him once I'm done."
He turned to the Million Dollar Corporation. "All right, this is it," he told them all solemnly, "We can get rid of Tunney and the whole family-friendly aspect of the WWF for good if you all just win tonight. I'm counting on those of you with the belts to hold onto it whatever it takes..."
"Not to worry, Don Vincenelli; I just picked this up in the mail this morning," Blassie held up a small case, "Courtesy of my old pal Skandor Akbar, and I'll happily use it if Macho starts getting the upper hand on Ric. Plus, I understand our secret weapon should be in position to help..."
"Sure is," the don's nephew Stefano stepped forward with a grin, "I had some of our top enforcers take care of that this morning. This way, the rest of our deal that got Flair the title can be upheld too."
"Perfect, perfect," Blassie clapped his hands delightedly, "And Martel and I'll throw everything we have at Macho too if we have too. Plus, Jimmy here agreed to take over the control room and flash the pictures if necessary..."
"Pictures?"
"Oh, Ric was thoughtful enough to pull out a couple of...uncomfortable pictures of Liz he took while they were together," the Mouth of the South grinned, holding up a manila envelope, "If all else fails to stop Savage, I'll flash them on the overhead monitors and deal him a psychological blow."
"To keep my title, I do everything to help I can, WOOOOOO!" Flair declared, spreading his arms wide to get the sun effect and spinning around in a circle.
"And then once we win, we party all night," Heenan unexpectedly snatched the hat and a glove off one of the don's bodyguards and slipped them on. "HEEEEEE HEEEEEEEEEEEE!" he squeaked in his best Michael Jackson impression, moonwalking backwards.
"Cut it out!" Sherri slapped him on the shoulder, "You embarrass me, and I won't help with Rude and Perfect!"
"I don't need help, sister; being simply perfect, I could defeat Ricky Steamboat with my eyes closed," Mr. Perfect declared confidently.
"Take the help, Perfect; whatever we do to hold onto the titles so I can win the bet with Tunney and take over, so be it," Don Vincenelli declared, glancing around worriedly at the crowds streaming into the Silverdome, as if expecting the law to show up at any minute. "Sheik, Volkoff, I'm asking you to do whatever it takes to keep the titles too," he told the tag team champions.
"No problem at all, Comrade Vincenelli; Rockers are typical overblown weak American cowards; Comrade Sheik and I will mop floor with them like Momma's old mop," Volkoff predicted confidently.
"See to it you do. And not a word to anyone about our plans; I don't want any press until we've actually forced Tunney out," the don warned them and the entire Million Dollar Corporation, "Now, for the rest of you, here's what I want you to do..."
"Uh, boss, Tunney says to head up to the suites he set aside for us; he'll be right up after he honors the legends," another goon stuck his head out the door.
"OK then, I'll be right up. Tell the PA guy to page Bruce Hart once we know he's here; we've got his reward money waiting," Don Vincenelli glanced at the metal briefcase another one of his bodyguards was holding. "Again, good luck," he told his puppets, "And don't fail me."
T-MINUS FORTY MINUTES...
Stu Hart exhaled with pride as he crested the ramp into the Silverdome and stared out at the mass of humanity filling up all the seats rapidly. "This is heaven," he said softly to himself, "The entire world coming together for a wrestling card. Never thought I'd live to see the day." He turned to his wife with a smile as she came alongside him. "So, was it worth it, putting up with the business all these years, so we could get here, darling?" he asked her.
"Well, as long as they're honoring you, darling, as they are tonight, I guess it was," Helen surmised, giving him a kiss.
"I just wish Mommy could have come too," came the voice of young Jade; she and brother Dallas looked glum at their place at their grandparents' feet.
"So do I, sweetheart, but she's still here in spirit," Helen told the girl sympathetically, "And you still get to see your father fight up close."
"That's true," Dallas did admit, "And maybe I can get more autographs..."
"Absolutely, little guy. OK, Hart clan," Stu called jovially through the curtain, "Let's fall out; we've got front-row seats awaiting."
"It's going to have to wait a little longer, Dad," Georgia looked frustrated as she stuck her head through the curtain, "Ellie and Diana are about to kill each other again over who married the better man!"
Sighing, Stu trudged back into the bowels of the arena, where, sure enough, his oldest and youngest daughters were shouting furiously in each other's faces, ignoring other sister Alison's attempts to separate them. "...face it, Jim's too rusty, too old, and too fat!" Diana was snapping at her older sister, "Owen's going to be carrying him half the match, and you know it!"
"You think Davey has any better shot against the Deadman!? I say he goes down in less than four minutes, while Jim smashes Jacques and Raymond Rougeau flat by himself in the same amount of time, without needing Owen to hold him up! You know it, and you just can't face it!" Ellie snapped back, shoving her sister hard, "I'll bet fifty bucks on it!"
"You're on!" Diana barked at her, "Easiest fifty bucks I ever made! And let's see how you like it!"
She shoved Ellie back, prompting another in return. "Girls, girls, I told you I didn't want fighting, please!" Stu desperately got between the two of them, "Now, let's be supportive of both Jim and Davey tonight..."
"She started it, Dad; always trying to push Davey up to heights only Hogan's reached so far!" Ellie jerked a finger at her sister, "If she's that eager, she ought to step into the ring and wrestle herself!"
"I don't see you doing that yourself for Jim, Ellie!" Diana shot back.
"Both of you please just stop!" Alison complained, jamming her hands to her temples, "You're driving Brooke and me crazy already," she cuddled her infant daughter close, "And you're scaring your own kids."
Indeed, young Natalya and Harry were staring worriedly at their mothers off to the side. "Don't mind us, dear, just a little family miscommunication," Diana told her son quickly, pulling him close-and then whispering in his ear, "But remember that your Aunt Ellie's crazy..."
"Everyone calmed and ready now?" Stu glanced around at the rest of his children and their families, "Who's got Dean's dialysis machine again?"
"Right here, Dad," Smith held it up, putting an arm around his ailing brother.
"Of course it was you; the two of you are practically inseparable anymore with your instant fortune schemes," Ellie muttered out loud in disgust, "So, the question should be, how much did you two gamble away on the event tonight behind our backs?"
"Hey, we don't gamble a cent, Ellie, honest; I don't know where you come up with those ideas!" Dean raised his arm as if under oath.
"Riiiiiiiight," she was far from convinced.
"As I was saying, Harts, let's roll out; no more than ten minutes to the ceremony," Stu took Dallas by the hand and led the way down the steps to the Silverdome floor. The crowd all around them seemed very excited and eager for the event to begin. A few people seated along the stairs extended their hands to the Stampede Wrestling founder along the way, which he gladly shook. "Well, seems like they did manage to line up more than a few legends," he remarked as they approached the ringside area, taking note of who else had seats around the ring.
"Wow, there's Gene Kiniski...and Lou Thesz...and Pat O'Connor," Wayne seemed excited himself to see some legendary faces, "And Dick the Bruiser and the Crusher; glad to see they made it. And Haystacks Calhoun...although he looks a little ill..."
"Looks like Tunney decided to haul in the competition too; there's the NWA's Bob Geigle and the AWA's Stanley Blackburn," Bruce frowned at the other promotion heads seated on the other side of the ring, "Nothing like humiliating your opponents before you bury them for good."
"Are we really going to have to go through this again!?" Keith sighed in frustration, glaring in his brother's face, "Let it go, Bruce; if Jack Tunney was the enemy, would he have chosen to honor Dad with everyone else tonight?"
"And look who else is here; well hello again," Diana's frown evaporated into a smile to see the now familiar figure of Bonnie Steamboat seated in the front row next to the Harts' assigned seats, "Good to see you again. Where's the little guy?"
"Rick's got Richie with him right now; he'll be bringing him out when he comes out to face Mr. Perfect. Good to see you again," Bonnie rose and hugged her old friend from Thanksgiving, "And Harry, looks like you've grown a little bit now," she smiled at the boy, "I hear you're starting to win some matches yourself now."
"Well, yes..." Harry admitted modestly.
"He's doing great," Diana proudly put her arm around her son, "And I promise one day, he'll be just as good as his father."
"And you don't care who you have to push aside to make sure of it," Ellie muttered under her breath.
"Don't push it, Ellie; I'm only looking out for my child!" Diana warned her.
"Don't either of you push it, please; I want to enjoy the evening!" Alison muttered, deliberately sitting down between Ellie and Diana. "Nervous at all?" she asked Bonnie with a warm smile of her own.
"Of course I'm nervous," the Dragon's bride confessed, a worried expression spreading across her face, "Mr. Perfect's certainly one of the best out there. I want Rick to win, but I don't want to see him get hurt in there, and after seeing how Mr. Perfect and Bobby Heenan swindled your brother out of the title last month, I've been worried about what they might do to keep Rick from winning. But worst of all," she looked outright frightened now, "Rick's apparently going to let Savage be in his corner as counterbalance against Heenan. I refuse to trust the man, especially after he turned on Hulk Hogan for a while last month..."
"Well, Bret said Macho was sorry, Mrs. Steamboat," Ross leaned forward in his seat, listening in, "He said Macho wanted to be with your husband to make up for what he'd done to him with the bell to the throat earlier..."
"Please don't remind me of that," Bonnie held up her arms, looking green at the mere recollection of the terrible moment, "I'll never have any peace with the image of Savage driving the bell into Rick's throat playing in my mind over and over again. If he could turn on Hogan, he could turn on Rick, and I'd never forgive myself for not talking him out of it when I had..."
"You worry too much, hon; just sit back and relax," came the encouraging words of the somewhat squat, dark-haired woman seated next to Bonnie wearing a blue sweatshirt emblazoned with, THE BIG BOSS MAN; DISHING OUT LAW AND ORDER LIKE THEY DO IN COBB COUNTY, GEORGIA. "So you're the Hart family?" she greeted them all, "I'd heard you'd all be sitting around here. Edna Traylor," she extended a hand to Helen, "My boy works with your boy."
"Oh, so you're the Boss Man's mother," Helen realized, shaking the hand, "Well, you must be quite proud of him..."
"Damn right I'm proud of him," Edna nodded firmly, "And when he gives that arrogant blowhard Rick Rude his comeuppance for saying all those nasty things about me tonight, I'll be here to help deal out the justice if he wants me to."
"Sorry, lady, but Rude's going to win this one," Dean piped up smugly, "He's much more talented than your son the hick cop, and he's got..."
"Don't you talk smack with me, boy!" Edna dug out a canister of mace from her purse and thrust it in Dean's face, "I don't care if you need medical attention right now; you'll need even more if you talk smack about me or my Raymond, got it?"
"Sure, sure, got it," Dean quickly slid back into his seat. He slid alongside Smith and whispered in his brother's ear, "I forgot to ask, we're in, right?"
"We're in," the oldest Hart son whispered back with a small thumbs-up, "If we played it right, we erase the hole and end up with a sizeable surplus. And if..."
"Care to share that with us!?" Ellie glared at them, suspicious.
"Uh, well, um..." Smith fumbled for an answer.
"Hey Dad, look who's coming now," Ross abruptly spoke up and pointed towards the aisle, unknowingly bailing Smith out. Two men, one thin and gray-haired, the other bull-necked and squat with a cane, were approaching the Harts' row. "...I can guarantee you, Larry, Roddy Piper will win this match hands down, even with all the people DiBiase's got in his corner," the former was arguing.
"Maybe against another opponent, yes, but this is Ted DiBiase we're talking about," the latter countered, "People put him down because he's got the money, but he's a very talented individual, perhaps the most underrated man in wrestling today, and I can't see any possible outcome except for a successful defense of his title. Well, well, Stu Hart, I didn't know they'd invited you to this," he noticed the Hart patriarch seated in the front row.
"I didn't know you'd be here either, Larry. Everyone, I'm sure you all know Larry Henning and Angelo Poffo," Stu happily introduced the newcomers to his family, who nodded knowingly and even proudly, "I guess you both dropped by to see your sons in action?"
"You betcha, Stu, and to be honored ourselves like you are. Of course, it goes without saying my Curt's going to cruise all the way to a successful title defense tonight," Larry proudly gestured to his own sweatshirt, with a picture of his son under the caption, MY SON IS SIMPLY...PERFECT."
"Well, I'm sorry, but I just know Rick's going to beat him for it," Bonnie spoke up.
"You're Mrs. Steamboat, right? Well, he's a good man, but my Curt's so much better, so sorry, not tonight," Larry told her respectfully but with a devilish grin. "Now Angelo, he's got double the reason to be happy, with both his sons participating, right Angelo?" he slapped Savage's father playfully on the back.
"Indeed, Larry, I couldn't be prouder," Angelo glanced at the ring with a smile, "I always wanted to see Randy go far, and now he's got a shot at the ultimate prize...I just wish we hadn't split so roughly when he came to the WWF," his face fell, "I'd wanted to reestablish contact, but I guess he's been too afraid that I'd be mad to call me. But I am proud of him, and always have been, and at least now I'll finally get to meet that special lady of his that seems to have taken him to the next level."
"Miss Elizabeth is really special, Mr. Poffo; you'll like her," Jade told him with a smile.
"She idolizes Miss Hulette," Stu told the former ICW head, putting a warm arm around the girl, "And watching the shows each week, it's clear the rest of the world does too. I see your other boy's going to be managing tonight too."
"Yes, he is, and I'm just as proud to see Lanny making it in the big leagues too, but I have my doubts about his choice of team," Angelo frowned, "Beau and Blake Beverly come across to me as arrogant, spoiled bullies, and I'm afraid that no amount of training by Lanny's going to get them to change their tune or do well against high-caliber talent like the Steiners."
"Don't be so down on them, Poffo; the Beverlies are a great team; their finisher's terrific," Smith argued.
"It is, yes, but I don't like their roughhouse tactics at all," Angelo shook his head.
"Give them a chance, Angelo; good things might just come out of the Beverlies yet," Larry told him, "Like Mr. Hart's boy here, I like what I see in them."
"Well, we'll know soon enough," Ross consulted his program, "Looks like the Beverlies-Steiners match is slated third on the card..."
"Mr. Hart, Mr. Henning, Mr. Poffo, so glad to see you all here," came Tunney's voice. The WWF President approached the front row with ring announcer Howard Finkel on his heels, "This celebration wouldn't be complete without all of you here," he told the three of them, shaking their hands.
"Well, glad to know you thought of us, Jack," Larry thanked him.
"Your attention please, will Bruce Hart report to the front ticket window; Mr. Bruce Hart to the front ticket window," came the announcement over the PA system. All eyes swung to Bruce. "Oh, uh, I, uh, entered a contest giveaway for the event; guess I won something," Bruce said quickly, rising to his feet, "Better, uh, go see what it's all about."
"Strange," Tunney frowned, watching Bruce scoot off up the aisle, "Can't recall any special giveaways for tonight offhand. Oh well, we're just about to start the ceremony; let them all out," the WWF president instructed a ring hand nearby, who nodded and opened the ring barriers enough for Stu, Larry, and Angelo to exit their seats and climb into the ring with the other legends, at the exact moment the bell rung and Finkel announced to the crowd, "Ladies and gentlemen, at this time, before WrestleMania begins for this year, we would like to take the opportunity to pay tribute to some of the men who have most made their mark on the sport of wrestling over the years..."
T-MINUS THIRTY MINUTES...
"You have a visitor, Mr. Hogan," Hulk's nurse stuck her head in his door.
"Who?" Hulk turned over in his bed. His eyes widened in surprise to see Timmy Kane, the slightly lame boy he'd feted on national television back in the summer, entering the room. "Well, Timmy, this is a surprise," he exclaimed, "What brings you here?"
"They'd said you were recovering here," Timmy slid into the chair next to Hulk's bed, "I wanted to stop by to keep you company on WrestleMania day."
"Well, I don't quite know what to say, Timmy..."
"I didn't quite either, Mr. Hogan," the boy's mother entered the room as well, "Since he saw you get injured on TV a few weeks ago, he wanted to stop in and say hello."
"I kind of suspected you'd be sad you weren't going to WrestleMania. So, I asked Mom if I could stop by to cheer you up, and she agreed," Timmy told the former champion.
"Well, little dude, thanks so much; this does mean a lot to me," smiling now, Hulk rubbed the boy's hair, "I was feeling a bit down. Everything going well for you since last July?"
"Oh yeah," Timmy nodded eagerly, "I'm going in for an operation soon that might fix my leg; maybe I'll finally be able to wrestle. And I don't get picked on anymore."
"Really? Well, that's certainly good."
"Ever since you made him a star for a moment last summer, he's become a celebrity of sorts at school," Mrs. Kane smiled, "So thank you for that, Mr. Hogan, we've..."
Abruptly, an alarm blared in the hallway. "All personnel, all personnel, we have an alarm in Mr. Marella's room," a loud voice boomed.
"Marella!? Joey Marella!? It can't be; he's officiating at WrestleMania today. Wait here," Hulk told the Kanes, sliding out of bed. He grabbed the cane he'd been allotted and stumbled out the door towards the room two doors down, where medics were streaming inside rapidly. "Mr. Hogan, you're not supposed to be out of bed..." another nurse tried to stop him. Hulk wasn't listening. His eyes widened again to see it was indeed Joey Marella inside the room, and he was spasming wildly. "Wait, doc, how'd Marella get in here!?" he asked a doctor rushing into the room.
""9-1-1 call this morning; his mailman found him on his porch foaming at the mouth; now looks like he's having a relapse," the doctor explained.
"Hold it, I thought I saw another doctor come in here not five minutes ago; he might have been slipped something!" a paramedic shouted while giving Marella a defibrillation.
"What did he look like, dude!?" Hulk asked worriedly.
"Hogan!" Marella gasped at him, "Poison...mob...Vincenelli family...WrestleMania...world title...fix...!"
"The Vincenelli family did this to you!?" Hulk gasped; he remembered full well listening to Steamboat's recorded conversation of the Vincenelli Family threatening Tunney to sign over the WWF to their control a few weeks ago. "Then this must have been part of their plot to make sure Flair stays champion," he mused, glancing nervously at the clock on the wall. Twenty-five minutes to the opening bell. There might still be enough time to prevent interference in the world title match if nothing else if he hurried...
"Doc, give Joey whatever you need, then get him in a wheelchair and call an ambulance; we're all going to Detroit," he told the head doctor firmly.
"Are you crazy, Mr. Hogan; this man is...!" the head doctor protested.
"We don't have any other choice if we want to save the WWF; get everything he'll need ready!" Hulk ordered, snatching Marella up by the arm and hobbling out into the hall with him. "Mrs. Kane, did you have anything else scheduled this afternoon?" he called back to his room.
"Uh, no, not really, Mr. Hogan," she stuck her head out the door, frowning, "Why?"
"Tell the head nurse to get me a wheelchair; we're going to the airport," he told her, "If we're quick enough, Timmy can get to see WrestleMania up close. We've got to save the WWF before it's too late..."