Jan 30 2009
The Race is On
How many times does one get an opportunity to talk face to face with a childhood hero? Unless, of course, that person is a family member or a close friend, a celebrity hero is usually someone with whom familiarity is gained by reading or watching interviews.
Yesterday, I had the opportunity to visit with Harley Race, an eight time World Heavyweight Wrestling champion. I called Mr. Race up last week to inquire if he had any openings with reference to a wrestling manager in his World League Wrestling promotion. He suggested that if I were to pursue that avenue, I should train to be a referee.
I spent about an hour with Mr. Race before the school began that afternoon. In his office is the NWA World Heavyweight belt that he wore as champion encased in a frame. The ring area has numerous memorabilia scattered throughout, including trophies, robes, wrestling shoes, and photographs of Mr. Race and well known wrestlers and promoters, as well as celebrities (one with Jackie Gleason, for example). What an honor it was for him to show me around and spend some time with me.
Well, to begin the training, one has to endure the initial tryout. There were several young men and women in the class headed by two trainers. One young lady is Amy Hennig, the daughter of the late “Mr. Perfect” Curt Hennig. I was doing fine in the tryout until we got to the 200 free leg squats. Ugh. I might as well have been paralyzed from the thighs down just after the midway point. All my legs could do was tremble and shake. Fortunately, the trainers and other classmates were very encouraging and helpful. Apparently they didn’t want to lose a potential ref on the first day.
At one point, I was standing in one of the rings across from Miss Hennig. It was almost like looking across at her dad, the resemblance is so striking. Of course, I had just taken several backward falls at that point as well, so my brain was a little scrambled, but it wouldn’t have taken much for any of them to have gotten the quick three count on me.
As I type now, my arms are weak and shaky from the pushups and numerous other exercises that made me feel like I’d hauled a dump truck full of cordwood by hand in less than an hour. However, at the age of thirty-nine, I have made a commitment to a business that I grew up watching and enjoying as a kid. Let’s see where it goes.
