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Picture it:
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a big, sweaty, tatooed-man
in a cowboy hat and chaps,
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and send him in the ring
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as the arena,
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full of fans cheer him on.
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Their hero.
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Cowboy Gator McGraw.
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Gator bounces off the ropes
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and is quickly body-slammed to the mat.
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His wild opponent leaps into the air,
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crashing down onto Gator's rib cage.
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Gator struggles to breathe,
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wondering, "Is this really what
my father wanted for me?"
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That wild man in the chaps ...
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was me.
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(Applause)
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And the answer to the question,
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surprisingly is yes.
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(Laughter)
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I grew up watching professional
wrestling with my dad.
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And like him, I loved everything about it:
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the showmanship,
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the athletic skill,
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the drama.
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I'd be this little boy,
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bouncing all over our living room,
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pretending to be my favorite
wrestlers from TV.
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My dad actually reminded me
a little bit of Hulk Hogan,
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but I was Hulk Hogan
and he was Andre the Giant.
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I'd get all serious on him,
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and say things like, "Dad,
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someday I am going to be
world heavyweight champion."
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And we would usually smile
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and very calmly say, "OK,
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then I guess I can count on you
to be my retirement fund."
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(Laughter)
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When I was 16,
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a small wrestling show came to my
little town in Minnesota,
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and I couldn't believe it.
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Nothing like that had ever
come to my town before.
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So of course I got to the arena
early in the morning the day of the show,
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waiting out in the parking lot
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to see if I could spot some wrestlers
pulling up in their cars.
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It wasn't as creepy as it sounds.
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But I could definitely tell
who the wrestlers were
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just the way the walked.
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They were tall and confident
and intimidating
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with their tank tops,
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and [zoobas] and fanny packs.
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(Laughter)
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Why wouldn't I want to be them?
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(Laughter)
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All I could think about was,
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who are these people,
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and what are they like?
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How did they become wrestlers?
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So before the show started,
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I walking into this tiny area --
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more like a gymnasium --
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and I asked them if I could help
set up the wrestling ring.
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"Sure, kid. No problem."
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And then I pleaded with them
to show me some wrestling moves.
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"Sure, kid. No problem."
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Man, they would just punch and kick me --
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hard.
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But I never complained.
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They would come to my town for one night
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every couple of months that year,
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and poof --
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next day they were gone.
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By the next year,
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they finally told me about an actual
wrestling training camp
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that one of the wrestlers was running,
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and I begged my parents to sign me up.
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Next thing I knew,
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I was a high school senior by day
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and wrestling in front of live
audiences by night.
closed TED
