Death Clutch - Brock Lesnar [16]
They both got on me right away, saying “You’re gonna have a pretty short career if you keep doing that three-hundred-pound gorilla backflip. Figure out a new finish.”
Those guys told me straight up, because they cared. “Leave that to the smaller guys,” Curt said. “They need every advantage they can grab in this business. You don’t need that move. It’s not worth the risk.” But I kept doing the Shooting Star, because it was spectacular. I wanted to be the best, and no one my size should be able to pull off that move.
If you can’t picture the sight of a three-hundred-pound man rotating through the air and crashing down on his opponent, or if you’ve never seen me do the Shooting Star, the videos are easy to find on the Internet. You will be amazed by what you see. You will also be horrified when you see what happens when I don’t land the move. I’m lucky that I didn’t end up in a wheelchair.
In the beginning, I was traveling with Kurt Angle and Taz. That was both good and bad, because both of those guys played pretty big roles in my development, and my near destruction.
Kurt Angle was the 1996 Olympic Gold Medal winner in wrestling, and I liked the way he approached the wresting entertainment business, because when he laced up his boots, the shit was on. The word on Kurt was that he only had one gear, and that was hyper-overdrive.
Kurt and I got to know each other pretty well because we had amateur wrestling in common. And he answered my questions about the business of pro wrestling because he started a few years before me.
Kurt could have turned to ultimate fighting right after the 1996 Olympics, but the timing would’ve been bad. The UFC wasn’t “happening” in 1996, and the money was nothing like it is today.
The very first day I met Brad Rheingans, he told me, “Life is about timing.” It didn’t dawn on me at that moment, but years later I got it. Everything has to fall into the right time frame. If you’re not in the right place at the right time, it’s not going to happen for you.
To this day I get asked questions about Kurt and his chances as an MMA fighter. Let’s get one thing straight: Kurt Angle was one tough son of a bitch. Could Kurt in his prime have fought in the UFC? Absolutely. And he would have torn it up. Could Kurt fight in UFC now? Absolutely not. After all of his pro wrestling injuries, I don’t think he could even pass the physical.
Taz was a unique guy, too. Here was this sawed-off, pissed-off wrestler whose biggest push was behind him, and he was trying his hardest to transition into the role of an on-air commentator. Why not? It’s a great gig, the money is good, and you don’t have to take bumps in the ring every night.
Taz could talk his ass off, which would have made him a good commentator, and did make him an entertaining guy to be in the car with. Taz was also a big amateur wrestling fan, knew my history, and he knew I wanted to make it to the top. I wasn’t shy about it, and he liked that about me.
One day Taz heard the stupid way they wanted me to work in a dark match—old-fashioned, plodding, monster heel, fake pro wrestling bullshit. Taz just shook his head. He said, “That sucks.” No sugarcoating, no bullshit. I liked that about Taz. He had been around for a long time, and he wasn’t playing the corporate puppet. He respected my credentials, and I respected his honesty. Taz heard all these veterans giving me bad advice about how a big man is supposed to work, but I knew it was a new day and age. Taz knew it too, so he took me over to meet Paul Heyman.
As you know, Paul is writing this book with me, so it’s kind of funny talking about him, but this is where we became instant friends. I didn’t know Paul from Adam, but he got involved in my next