The Years of Dirty Rain
I revised this. I know Tazz is Italian, but he honestly doesn't look it. And, I know that he's obviously not Spanish (Not when Michael Cole knows more Spanish then him!) but, for the sake of the story he is. I've never heard Tazz mention his wife by name, so I made it up. Aida is a nice sounding name... (I really need to stop listening to Sarah McLachlan) I pretty much made up Tazz's history. See, Tazz, not Taz... So, this story does not really dwell on his character Taz, that pranced around ECW Arena in a leotard. All right, maybe not 'prance'...
Anyhoo, I own nothing. Tazz (Pete) Raven (Scott) are owned by (first, ECW and then) WWF(E) There was no Joey Numbers harmed in the making of this story.
^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^*
I was walking down the mean streets of Red Hook one hot summer day. My name was Pete, but all my friends called me Tazz, because of my uncanny resemblance to the Warner Brothers cartoon character when I get mad. I was walking down one of the streets and where all the houses were one or two story houses.
The better section of town. It wasn't the rich side, just better then where I had been currently living. I was walking all cool and in control -like always- with my black sunglasses and black pants with an orange shirt. A thug. Hoodlum. Whatever. I've heard it all.
Nothing could hurt me. There's a line in a song somewhere "If you think growing up is tough, then boy you just ain't grown up enough" Or something like that. That could describe me. My mother was Spanish and my father was black. This was before people like Derek Jeter and Mariah Carey were considered cool. When I grow up I was just a freak, a weirdo, someone the other kids didn't want to play with. So I became tough and somewhat of a bully. It shielded me from the hurt and rejection that I felt.
So there I was a lad of about 17. 17 is the age when guys decided who they are. It's like a turning point. I had decided I just wanted to stay alive and to do that in my rough neighborhood, I needed a job. It wasn't a super, fantastic job, but I still got paid. I pumped gas at a local gas station. Nothing too fancy. But on one peculiar day I took a different route to the station. I ended up in that fancy section of town. I was walking down a one way street. There was a Russian Orthodox Church on one corner and a Polish deli on the other. You can figure out what side of Europe these people came from. As I was walking down the street some more, I heard some noises in the Church's parking lot. Here I was, a scary half black guy walking down probably the whitest street in America and I heard little kids screaming. I, with the world's lowest self esteem, thought they were screaming because of me. As I got closer I saw 6 kids playing with a hose, and the most beautiful girl ever. She had to be around my age, with long beautiful hair.
Her hair was the most weirdly beautiful things I had ever seen in my short life. There was red, blond and brown colors in it. And it wasn't one of those ugly dye jobs, it looked natural. She was in a sleeveless shirt that one of the straps was half off and jean shorts. Not one of those ugly shorts that I saw in my neighborhood. Where all my black girl friends all had itty bitty shorts (and some of the white girls who tried to copy their style) but this were like regular length and still looked gooood. And I mean good. She was trying to get the hose out of the hands of one the little blond boys. She was saying something about how the kid was going to get the Church all wet, and then he would go to Hell.
The kid gave her a look, that said he had probably heard that one a million times, and didn't believe her threats. He continued to spray what looked like his other blond brothers with the hose. I stood there watching all of this unfold. The other two kids where on bikes and driving circles around the poor girl. She was finally able to get the hose out of the kid's hand (much to his displeasure). She started walking, still not noticing me watching her while I was leaning against a gate. She went down two houses past the parking lot and walked to the side of the house. A couple seconds later I hear her grunting, and I being the gentlemen I am... Well, when I want to be.... Walk over to see her struggling trying to wrap the long hose up into a circle to put on the hose rack. Beads of sweat had started forming on her pale face. I walked over and tapped her on the shoulder.
She jumped up and looked up at me. Her eyes were the bluest blue I have ever seen, even to this day. As I'm still stunned looking into her eyes, she asked gruffly "What do ya want?" And, it takes me a couple of seconds to break out of her gaze "I'm sorry Miss, I could help but see that you where having trouble there, so I can over to help you. If you want." I say as I could feel my face getting slightly red.
She seemed to realize that I didn't want to mug her or anything and she dropped the tangled hose into my hands. "Here if you think you can fix it, then be my guest."
Then she went to a nearby car and hoped onto the hood to watch me as I took my time untangling it. When I was done I turned around and saw her still looking at me. Not a look of mistrust, but of affection. Which is always a good thing, especially if the girl happened to be as good looking as her.
We got to talking and it turns out she's a big wrestling fan and her brother was an up and coming wrestler trying to make a name for himself. At least he was in his mind. Naw, I kid. Anyway, her name was Saida Levy. Her friends all called her Aida. When I asked if I could call her Aida, she laughed.
She had this pretty smartass way to her, and I loved it! She didn't take nothing from anybody. She was like the female version of myself. Then I met her brother Scott.
Talk about polar opposites... And, I think somedays that he's slightly bi-polar, too.
He was like the guy who always dressed in black and spooked small children and old folk. The complete opposites they were, but they were still, like, best friends. All my brothers hated me and we used to have actual battles to see who our parents loved more. But, these two, they had disliked their parents so much that they used that as a common bond, and then it grew from that.
This Scott guy he was cool. He would start talking to me about all these famous dead dudes. And myself being poor and slightly book stupid, he taught me a lot of useful things. Everyday before and after work, I would walk to their house.
I met the rest of their family. Scott was over 18 and had lived by himself, until Aida couldn't take her parents anymore and took her two brothers and her sister and moved into his house They used to live in some snotty rich town called Short Hills in Jersey. But, they couldn't take living with all those 'rich, boring, old Jews' as Aida said. So, they moved next door to their aunt and uncle, who lived next door to some more aunts and uncles and cousins. It was like a big family block thing. I never had, had that. Most of my family was 6 feet under.
Soon Adia's sister and brothers, Janie aged 5 and Mario and Johnny 10 and 12 become like family to me. They were my subsitute siblings. And Scott was my best friend and Adia was my girl.
Scott got a job managing people in the WWF and changed his wrestling name to Johnny Polo. He kept on trying to get my name in to the business. All the while I was working out, training, fighting, everything to get ready to be a wrestler. I loved the thought of me, plaid old Peter, becoming Taz the wrestling machine. I started off in ECW for a good many years. I fit in pretty good with all those freaks.
Everyone there was in ECW because there was something a little wrong with them. We all enjoyed the act of performing, the thought of bleeding, the thought of hurting others. Normally people like us would be locked up in jail. But nope, we had a chance, a chance to shine. Most of us took that chance, others didn't. They were lazy as hell, and thought the business wasn't great. Not Scott and I. By this time he changed his name to Raven. Luckily no one knew we were such good friends, because the management (not just the management of ECW, but all of wrestling promotions) like to get personally into their wrestlers life. All the times Tommy Dreamer and Raven were pissed off at each other, they really were in real life.
Aida and I were still dating. 10 years by this time. And, then one day I got a call. WWF had come 'a knocking and wanted to know if I wanted to jump ship, since my contract was almost up. I was so extremely happy! This was a big, big step for a wrestler like me. I was climbing up the ladder of success. Before I agreed I had to asked Aida if I should, because most of the ECW shows where relatively close to home. But WWF was almost all year, everyday on the road. And I also asked Scott what I should do.
They both pushed me (literally) to go follow my dreams. No one ever did that for me. No one. My parents never did. They were to busy looking for drugs. My "brothers" in my old gang never did, I was just Pete the Oompa Lumpa to them. I was their comic relief. But, these people, people I didn't even know for half of my life, they told me to succeed, to shot for the highest star, all that junk I'd hear on tv or Hallmark cards and then I would gag. But they really meant it when they said it. And it wasn't just Adia and Scott, the entire family told me to go. They told me that I should follow my dreams, and everything.
And, they also reassured me that Adia would never leave me or anything when I was gone. Which was another thing I was afraid of. I'd be gone almost the entire year and I wouldn't get to see her. What if she found someone else? I'm not the most handsome man in the world, you know. What if she got tired of me? What if she would start to hate me for leaving her alone?
Now looking back on it, I see that was so stupid of me to even think. So, after a good long talk with Aida, I left.
It turned out to be all right, because soon Scott moved to the WWF too and Aida started traveling with him. Soon, I had proposed to her and she traveled with us as my fiancé. After I made my first official WWF debut (in MSG, in my home town of New York City) we got married soon after. It was a really good time for all of us. Raven and I were having a good time in WWF (which was much more laid back and tamer then ECW) and Aida and I were finally man and wife. But, not in that order. Even though, somedays I feel like she's the one that wears the pants in the relationship. She defiantly does when it comes to Scott, and his tendency to wear kilts.
Anyhow, after my debut in the Garden I was involved in an angle with Jerry "The King" Lawler, and I brought Raven in the WWF as my friend who had 'felt the pain of never having a hot dog.' Jerry, he was a 'king' and we were these two poor street urchins. And that's how I, Pete Senerca from Red Hook, became WWF Superstar Tazz. I wouldn't trade my life for anyone else's. I may have had some rough times.... but those hard times only made me stronger.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Our love is even stronger
Than God hoped it could be
Baby, all it takes is
Just a little faith in me
- Save The World - Bon Jovi
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I revised this. I know Tazz is Italian, but he honestly doesn't look it. And, I know that he's obviously not Spanish (Not when Michael Cole knows more Spanish then him!) but, for the sake of the story he is. I've never heard Tazz mention his wife by name, so I made it up. Aida is a nice sounding name... (I really need to stop listening to Sarah McLachlan) I pretty much made up Tazz's history. See, Tazz, not Taz... So, this story does not really dwell on his character Taz, that pranced around ECW Arena in a leotard. All right, maybe not 'prance'...
Anyhoo, I own nothing. Tazz (Pete) Raven (Scott) are owned by (first, ECW and then) WWF(E) There was no Joey Numbers harmed in the making of this story.
^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^~~^^*
I was walking down the mean streets of Red Hook one hot summer day. My name was Pete, but all my friends called me Tazz, because of my uncanny resemblance to the Warner Brothers cartoon character when I get mad. I was walking down one of the streets and where all the houses were one or two story houses.
The better section of town. It wasn't the rich side, just better then where I had been currently living. I was walking all cool and in control -like always- with my black sunglasses and black pants with an orange shirt. A thug. Hoodlum. Whatever. I've heard it all.
Nothing could hurt me. There's a line in a song somewhere "If you think growing up is tough, then boy you just ain't grown up enough" Or something like that. That could describe me. My mother was Spanish and my father was black. This was before people like Derek Jeter and Mariah Carey were considered cool. When I grow up I was just a freak, a weirdo, someone the other kids didn't want to play with. So I became tough and somewhat of a bully. It shielded me from the hurt and rejection that I felt.
So there I was a lad of about 17. 17 is the age when guys decided who they are. It's like a turning point. I had decided I just wanted to stay alive and to do that in my rough neighborhood, I needed a job. It wasn't a super, fantastic job, but I still got paid. I pumped gas at a local gas station. Nothing too fancy. But on one peculiar day I took a different route to the station. I ended up in that fancy section of town. I was walking down a one way street. There was a Russian Orthodox Church on one corner and a Polish deli on the other. You can figure out what side of Europe these people came from. As I was walking down the street some more, I heard some noises in the Church's parking lot. Here I was, a scary half black guy walking down probably the whitest street in America and I heard little kids screaming. I, with the world's lowest self esteem, thought they were screaming because of me. As I got closer I saw 6 kids playing with a hose, and the most beautiful girl ever. She had to be around my age, with long beautiful hair.
Her hair was the most weirdly beautiful things I had ever seen in my short life. There was red, blond and brown colors in it. And it wasn't one of those ugly dye jobs, it looked natural. She was in a sleeveless shirt that one of the straps was half off and jean shorts. Not one of those ugly shorts that I saw in my neighborhood. Where all my black girl friends all had itty bitty shorts (and some of the white girls who tried to copy their style) but this were like regular length and still looked gooood. And I mean good. She was trying to get the hose out of the hands of one the little blond boys. She was saying something about how the kid was going to get the Church all wet, and then he would go to Hell.
The kid gave her a look, that said he had probably heard that one a million times, and didn't believe her threats. He continued to spray what looked like his other blond brothers with the hose. I stood there watching all of this unfold. The other two kids where on bikes and driving circles around the poor girl. She was finally able to get the hose out of the kid's hand (much to his displeasure). She started walking, still not noticing me watching her while I was leaning against a gate. She went down two houses past the parking lot and walked to the side of the house. A couple seconds later I hear her grunting, and I being the gentlemen I am... Well, when I want to be.... Walk over to see her struggling trying to wrap the long hose up into a circle to put on the hose rack. Beads of sweat had started forming on her pale face. I walked over and tapped her on the shoulder.
She jumped up and looked up at me. Her eyes were the bluest blue I have ever seen, even to this day. As I'm still stunned looking into her eyes, she asked gruffly "What do ya want?" And, it takes me a couple of seconds to break out of her gaze "I'm sorry Miss, I could help but see that you where having trouble there, so I can over to help you. If you want." I say as I could feel my face getting slightly red.
She seemed to realize that I didn't want to mug her or anything and she dropped the tangled hose into my hands. "Here if you think you can fix it, then be my guest."
Then she went to a nearby car and hoped onto the hood to watch me as I took my time untangling it. When I was done I turned around and saw her still looking at me. Not a look of mistrust, but of affection. Which is always a good thing, especially if the girl happened to be as good looking as her.
We got to talking and it turns out she's a big wrestling fan and her brother was an up and coming wrestler trying to make a name for himself. At least he was in his mind. Naw, I kid. Anyway, her name was Saida Levy. Her friends all called her Aida. When I asked if I could call her Aida, she laughed.
She had this pretty smartass way to her, and I loved it! She didn't take nothing from anybody. She was like the female version of myself. Then I met her brother Scott.
Talk about polar opposites... And, I think somedays that he's slightly bi-polar, too.
He was like the guy who always dressed in black and spooked small children and old folk. The complete opposites they were, but they were still, like, best friends. All my brothers hated me and we used to have actual battles to see who our parents loved more. But, these two, they had disliked their parents so much that they used that as a common bond, and then it grew from that.
This Scott guy he was cool. He would start talking to me about all these famous dead dudes. And myself being poor and slightly book stupid, he taught me a lot of useful things. Everyday before and after work, I would walk to their house.
I met the rest of their family. Scott was over 18 and had lived by himself, until Aida couldn't take her parents anymore and took her two brothers and her sister and moved into his house They used to live in some snotty rich town called Short Hills in Jersey. But, they couldn't take living with all those 'rich, boring, old Jews' as Aida said. So, they moved next door to their aunt and uncle, who lived next door to some more aunts and uncles and cousins. It was like a big family block thing. I never had, had that. Most of my family was 6 feet under.
Soon Adia's sister and brothers, Janie aged 5 and Mario and Johnny 10 and 12 become like family to me. They were my subsitute siblings. And Scott was my best friend and Adia was my girl.
Scott got a job managing people in the WWF and changed his wrestling name to Johnny Polo. He kept on trying to get my name in to the business. All the while I was working out, training, fighting, everything to get ready to be a wrestler. I loved the thought of me, plaid old Peter, becoming Taz the wrestling machine. I started off in ECW for a good many years. I fit in pretty good with all those freaks.
Everyone there was in ECW because there was something a little wrong with them. We all enjoyed the act of performing, the thought of bleeding, the thought of hurting others. Normally people like us would be locked up in jail. But nope, we had a chance, a chance to shine. Most of us took that chance, others didn't. They were lazy as hell, and thought the business wasn't great. Not Scott and I. By this time he changed his name to Raven. Luckily no one knew we were such good friends, because the management (not just the management of ECW, but all of wrestling promotions) like to get personally into their wrestlers life. All the times Tommy Dreamer and Raven were pissed off at each other, they really were in real life.
Aida and I were still dating. 10 years by this time. And, then one day I got a call. WWF had come 'a knocking and wanted to know if I wanted to jump ship, since my contract was almost up. I was so extremely happy! This was a big, big step for a wrestler like me. I was climbing up the ladder of success. Before I agreed I had to asked Aida if I should, because most of the ECW shows where relatively close to home. But WWF was almost all year, everyday on the road. And I also asked Scott what I should do.
They both pushed me (literally) to go follow my dreams. No one ever did that for me. No one. My parents never did. They were to busy looking for drugs. My "brothers" in my old gang never did, I was just Pete the Oompa Lumpa to them. I was their comic relief. But, these people, people I didn't even know for half of my life, they told me to succeed, to shot for the highest star, all that junk I'd hear on tv or Hallmark cards and then I would gag. But they really meant it when they said it. And it wasn't just Adia and Scott, the entire family told me to go. They told me that I should follow my dreams, and everything.
And, they also reassured me that Adia would never leave me or anything when I was gone. Which was another thing I was afraid of. I'd be gone almost the entire year and I wouldn't get to see her. What if she found someone else? I'm not the most handsome man in the world, you know. What if she got tired of me? What if she would start to hate me for leaving her alone?
Now looking back on it, I see that was so stupid of me to even think. So, after a good long talk with Aida, I left.
It turned out to be all right, because soon Scott moved to the WWF too and Aida started traveling with him. Soon, I had proposed to her and she traveled with us as my fiancé. After I made my first official WWF debut (in MSG, in my home town of New York City) we got married soon after. It was a really good time for all of us. Raven and I were having a good time in WWF (which was much more laid back and tamer then ECW) and Aida and I were finally man and wife. But, not in that order. Even though, somedays I feel like she's the one that wears the pants in the relationship. She defiantly does when it comes to Scott, and his tendency to wear kilts.
Anyhow, after my debut in the Garden I was involved in an angle with Jerry "The King" Lawler, and I brought Raven in the WWF as my friend who had 'felt the pain of never having a hot dog.' Jerry, he was a 'king' and we were these two poor street urchins. And that's how I, Pete Senerca from Red Hook, became WWF Superstar Tazz. I wouldn't trade my life for anyone else's. I may have had some rough times.... but those hard times only made me stronger.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Our love is even stronger
Than God hoped it could be
Baby, all it takes is
Just a little faith in me
- Save The World - Bon Jovi
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~