A Lion's Tale_ Around the World in Spandex - Chris Jericho [83]
Ricky and Robert were the epitome of tag team, both in the ring and out. They followed each other around everywhere finishing each other’s sentences and making jokes like a modern-day Abbott and Costello.
“Ricky, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“I haven’t slept for sixteen years, Robert.”
“I figure we’ll start the match slow, Robert.”
“And taper off from there, Ricky.”
They continued their wacky duo act by pulling ribs on anyone they could reel in. They’d goad an unsuspecting victim to point at a spot on the wall and then challenge them to try to walk up to the wall and touch that exact spot with their eyes closed. When the guy began to walk toward the wall, Robert would pull down his pants and the guy would end up sticking his finger up Gibson’s ass.
I couldn’t believe how moist and warm it was.
Another howler saw Ricky take a quarter and stick it onto the middle of his forehead. Then he’d hit the back of his head causing the coin to fall off his forehead into his hand. I thought it would be an easy task, so they stuck the quarter onto my forehead. I whacked the back of my head progressively harder and harder, until I was belting it full force and wondering why the hell the coin wasn’t coming off. They broke out laughing when they held up the coin that they’d pressed into my head and then pulled off. The coin still felt stuck to my head and I never realized it was gone.
I’m from Canada. What the hell do I know about NASCAR?
They were also notorious for bragging about all of their wrestling accomplishments. Whenever someone mentioned an old promotion or a Podunk town, Ricky would pipe up, “When we came into (insert name of town here) there were only 200 people in the building. We worked an angle with (insert name of opponents here) and sold the place out. We popped that territory and there were motherfuckers hanging from the rafters trying to get in. We made (insert name of opponents here) look like a million bucks, isn’t that right, Hoot?”
“That’s right, Punky.”
Hoot was Robert’s nickname and Punky was Ricky’s nickname.
Three days later they’d be talking about another Podunk town. “When we came into (insert name of town here) there were only 200 people in the building. We worked an angle with (insert name of opponents here) and sold the place out. We popped that territory and there were motherfuckers hanging from the rafters trying to get in. We made (insert name of opponents here) look like a million bucks, isn’t that right, Hoot?”
“That’s right, Punky.’
No matter what town or territory came up in a conversation, Rock ’n’ Roll told the same story verbatim. It became a game when they started talking, “Ricky’s going to tell the story. Let’s see if he says the same stuff!”
He always did.
The SMW roster included quite a few other seasoned veterans and I learned the ways of the road from all of them. When I first met Dirty Dick Murdoch, one of wrestling’s true legends, I thought he was a literal dick. He was a potbellied, skinny-legged old-timer with a fat face and a W. C. Fields nose. His nickname was Captain Redneck although at first I thought it was Obnoxious Racist.
So when Cornette asked me to drive Dick around I was pissed. In retrospect, it ended up being one of the highlights of my career. As I got to know him I realized he wasn’t a racist, he was just honest and fair. He hated everyone equally.
On the long trips from town to town, he told hilarious stories and taught me how to hit speed limit signs with a beer bottle while driving eighty miles an hour. If you think it’s easy, give it a try. It takes a lot of timing, a lot of miles, and a lot of beers to get it right. Murdoch had all three and I never saw him miss a speed sign when he threw a bottle....never.
Murdoch