Foley Is Good: And the Real World Is Faker Than Wrestling
I also altered my look just a little following April's WrestleMania. Now, this is a tricky subject and I don't want to seem ungrateful to my fans, but damn, all the attention can be a little overwhelming at times. So in June 2000, I decided to become unrecognizable. I celebrated my thirty-fifth birthday at Hershey Park, where, following an advertised appearance that I had traded out for free room and rides, I retreated to my hotel room with a hair clipper. When I exited the room, I was bald. Completely incognito. Unrecognizable. I walked into the lobby of the Hotel Hershey as a new man ...for about eleven seconds, when I heard the words, "Are you enjoying your stay, Mr. Foley?"
A week later I was flown to World Wrestling Federation headquarters, where I was offered the role of World Wrestling Federation Commissioner. And so, when I came through the curtain on June 26, 2000, in Worcester, Massachusetts, to the biggest ovation of my career, it was as the new, bald Mick Foley. A Mick Foley whose drastic haircut had made him more recognizable than ever.
I loved the Commissioner role. Not only was it easy and fun, but in many ways it may have been my most important role to date. The company showed great faith in me by allowing me to be a central part of story lines, counting on me to help build other wrestlers' characters and letting me do it while raising the levels of innocent buffoonery in professional wrestling to new highs.
I made a conscious effort when I came back as the Commish to put a happy face on the World Wrestling Federation. I will always be proud of my hardcore reputation, but the passage of time has allowed me to be equally proud of my kinder, gentler, goofier side. The side that inspired Triple H to declare me "a human Muppet." I actually visualized a conversation taking place among wrestling fans that spurred me on to be the most ludicrous, nerdy, nincompoopish performer in the history of sports-entertainment.
"You see that guy out there? He used to be the baddest SOB in wrestling."
"Mick Foley?"
"Yeah. Barbed wire, thumbtacks, you have it, he did it all."
"Mick Foley?"
"Yeah."
"Naah."
"Yeah."
"Naah."
I like to think that conversations like that have already begun to sprout. The world is full of nerds. And I would like to be their role model.
Some of the best times of my career have come as World Wrestling Federation Commissioner. Cheap pops? I treasure them. And I would rather put my goofy vignettes with Edge & Christian into a time capsule than my ECW interviews that were so full of anger. I show up when I want (never too late), wear what I want, pretty much say what I want, and usually leave when I want. And in return, am given a bigger audience reaction than my active career ever knew.
I'm proud of my short-lived chemistry with Gerald Brisco that saw us somehow manage to steal verbiage from a Bugs Bunny/Elmer Fudd argument and repeat it verbatim on Raw. I'm thrilled to have played some small part in Kurt Angle's rapid ascent to superstardom, and have looked on with great interest as other performers slowly make gains in becoming the Rocks, Stone Colds, and Hunters of the future.
Perhaps most of all, I have enjoyed my talks with Stephanie McMahon, and always look forward to her infectious smile, which makes each day seem just a little nicer. Whenever I get mad at her dad (which is quite often), I think of her and marvel at how, despite his ridiculous workload, Vince McMahon somehow found the time to be a good father along the way.
Sometimes I actually feel sorry for Vince. Business is very personal to Vince, and his best friends are also his business partners, which more or less means Vince doesn't have any real friends at all. His smile and affection for his wrestlers are very much genuine, and I believe that he is genuinely hurt when wrestlers he has nurtured, befriended, and made rich jump ship for the sake of a few more dollars. One of the small comforts in my life is knowing that as a wasted-up, broken-down ex-wrestler, I will probably never have to make a move that would hurt Vince McMahon. Because, after all, as Vince has been kind enough to point out on many occasions, billionaires have feelings too.
Often I get the feeling that Vince is his own worst enemy. I find it ironic that the man who revolutionized sports-entertainment, erased the stigma of fakery surrounding it, and paved the way for an honest book like this one to find acceptance is the one guy in the company who feels compelled to become a wrestling character whenever a camera light turns on.
No wonder he didn't like Beyond the Mat—he looks like a jerk in it. If Blaustein's camera wasn't on, there's no way he would make Droz throw up in that garbage can. Vince McMahon is a hell of a guy—probably the most unique man I will ever meet in my life. But Vince would rather show the world "Mr. McMahon," and as a World Wrestling Federation stockholder, I wish that would change. Because the business world is scared to death of the "Mr. McMahon" that he allows them to see.
With that being said (and hopefully not edited out), I love the World Wrestling Federation and in some weird son-who-can't-get-rid-of-his-dad way, I suppose I have some love for Vince too. Which is why I take such offense at criticisms leveled against the company that I feel are overblown and unfair. As if it's not bad enough that the public perceives our leader as some kind of lunatic, they also have been led to believe that our show is some kind of immoral wasteland.
For a long time I think we may have encouraged this perception in order to come off as rebellious and cool, but as Popeye the Sailor once said, "I stands all I can stands, and I can't stands no more." For crying out loud, I even had a very famous adult film star tell me that she didn't let her son watch our show. Just how bad is our show?
I decided to find out. Please feel free to stop reading this book if you have no desire to read what is essentially a whole other book. A book that hopefully debunks myths and educates with facts. Hopefully, it will be educational and kind of fun as well.
When I was in elementary school, "Bubble Yum" was a hot commodity. Every cool kid chewed it, as well as the dorks who were trying to be cool. One day I heard a rumor: Bubble Yum used spider eggs to soften their gum. Actually everyone heard the rumor. And within days, no one was chewing Bubble Yum anymore. The cool kids weren't chewing it. Neither were the dorks who were trying to be cool. Within weeks, I saw a two-page ad in the New York Times that read, "Someone has been telling your children very bad things about a very good gum." Sometimes I feel like I work for that company. Because when it comes to the World Wrestling Federation, it is my feeling that "someone is saying very bad things about a very good company." So I feel that it is my duty to stand up in defense of the World Wrestling Federation.
In Defense of the World Wrestling Federation
The Indiana University Study
Although I consider myself a loyal World Wrestling Federation employee, I have not always been in agreement with World Wrestling Federation decisions concerning content. Sometimes I think the envelope has been pushed too far, and often, when it is, I find it has been done so for no other reason than to prove we can push it. It seems to shine a negative light on the product, and invites harsh criticism with no real upside in return.
I think the language is too often too coarse, and I think that the multitude of huge breasts can sometimes be overwhelming. And I'm really at a loss to explain how "suck it" became a part of the cultural landscape.
Nonetheless, I was a little bit taken aback when the results of an Indiana University study concerning the contents of Raw started becoming public knowledge in early 1999. I may not have been in total agreement with all of the World Wrestling Federation's ideas, but by no means did I consider it to be a filthy show. On the contrary, I considered Raw to be a fun, action-packed show that happened to contain a little filth. So when the results came out, they were a bit shocking.
In a year's worth of Raw episodes, the study, which was commissioned by Inside Edition, revealed:
■ 157 instances of wrestlers or audience members giving the finger
■ 434 instances of the slogan "suck it" being said by wrestlers or appearing on signs in the audience
r />
■ 1,658 instances of wrestlers groping or pointing to their crotches
■ 128 instances of simulated sexual activity
■ 42 instances of simulated drug use
■ 47 references to satanic activity
■ 609 instances of wrestlers being hit by objects like garbage cans or nightsticks
Wow! This was a little disheartening, to say the least. I had always felt that wrestling and the World Wrestling Federation were a positive influence on families, but I certainly had a hard time arguing with this type of evidence to the contrary.
The media had a field day with these statistics. Everywhere I looked, it seemed that these damning figures were staring me in the face. In addition to scores of television stories and magazine articles, I personally read thirty-seven different newspapers that quoted these statistics. Heavy hitters too, including the New York Times, the New York Post, the Chicago Sun-Times, the Chicago Tribune, the Washington Times, the Indianapolis Star, the Dallas Morning News, the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, and USA Today, to name just a few.
Yes, it seemed, the World Wrestling Federation was a miserable dung heap of sex, vulgarity, and violence. Or was it?
Hey, I had been on just about every show, and while I can vividly recall a plethora of "suck-its," crotch chops, middle fingers and blows of various instruments to the head, I really couldn't recall any simulated drug use and only one simulated sex act. Still, even though I began to doubt the validity of the study, I sat back and did nothing for a while.
In July 2000, I began writing this book, and in reliving the moments from December 1998 through April 2000,1 studied slightly over twenty videotapes in order to be as accurate as possible. I kept the Indiana University study results in the back of my mind when viewing my tapes, and I couldn't help but think that the IU results seemed a little extreme.
I spoke at length with Linda McMahon about the study and asked if she would mind if I conducted a study of my own. She was more than happy to give me her blessing. So, over the course of three days and nights, with the aid of my twenty tapes, a television, a VCR, and a remote control, I carried out my study. I tabulated the results and then multiplied them by 2.5 to yield the equivalent of a full year's worth of results. My findings were somewhat different than those of the IU study:
■ 34 instances of wrestlers or audience members giving the finger
■ 640 instances of wrestlers grabbing or pointing to their crotches
■ 0 instances of simulated sexual activity
■ 0 instances of simulated drug use
■ 0 instances of satanic activity
■ 422 instances of wrestlers being hit by objects like garbage cans or nightsticks
Quite a difference, right? How come? Well, first let me state that I never bothered to count the "suck-it" signs or utterances. Partially because I didn't have the time to count signs in the audience, and partially because I can't justify one "suck it," let alone 434. I really don't believe those words are appropriate in any circumstance, unless of course there is a "please" in front of them. Yeah, I know, there are probably a few people who will read this and say "Well, you said it once or twice, Mick." Yes, I did, but it somehow seemed cute when I did it in December '98.
The lack of middle fingers can be directly attributed to the injury and subsequent departure of "Stone Cold" Steve Austin, who was rather proficient with the gesture. I'm not sure where I stand on the whole finger thing. On one hand, Austin's frequent usage has trivialized a once mighty gesture, and by the same token, turning such an ugly expression into a sign of friendship cannot be seen as altogether bad.
The absence of satanic activity can likewise be directly attributed to the injury and departure of the Undertaker. I wasn't a big fan of that particular angle, but that is probably because I hold the classic Undertaker in such high esteem. You know, the guy with the eerie entrance music, the guy who could make the lights go on and off with a simple gesture of his hands, the guy who used to beat the crap out of me on a regular basis. I missed that guy.
Still, in the World Wrestling Federation, we are clearly labeling ourselves as "entertainment" and have done so for many years. We play good guys and bad guys, and therefore should have as much right to use the ultimate "bad guy" as any other form of entertainment.
The World Wrestling Federation is a strange amalgamation of fact and fiction—in my case mostly fact. I am referred to as "Mick Foley"—my real name—and am accurately portrayed as having a wife and kids. Therefore, there are certain things that I wouldn't feel comfortable doing, such as making references to Satan. The Undertaker, however, doesn't have those constraints, so I therefore have no problem with his satanic portrayal.
I would also like to note that while the IU study looked only at episodes of Raw, I incorporated both Raw and SmackDown! into my findings. SmackDown! is a slightly tamer show, but apparently not too much tamer, as the Parents Television Council (or PTC, which I will get into later) voted it as the most offensive broadcast show of the year for 2000. Also, the one year tracked by the IU study (February '98 to January '99) is generally considered to be the highwater mark for controversial World Wrestling Federation content.
Still, the differences in the two studies' results were shocking, and I became determined to find out why the discrepancy was so large. I looked further into the IU study and was able to procure the phone number of Dr. Walter Ganz, the man who had headed it. By this point I had vilified Ganz in my mind, and so had no qualms about bombarding his office with phone calls several times a day for many days. (Actually, it was only five calls, but I had already used the word "bombardment," so I went with that theme.)
In truth, I never expected a return call, and was only calling so I could write, "I tried several times to call Dr. Ganz, but he was unavailable for comment." Instead, I received a late-night phone call from the professor, the result of which was eye-opening to say the least.
We actually had a very pleasant, very thorough discussion about the study, and I was very thankful (and remain so) for his time. Especially considering the new light it shed on this World Wrestling Federation mystery.
I started out by informing Dr. Ganz that I was in the process of writing a follow-up to my towering New York Times number one bestseller Have a Nice Day! This was not surprising, since I begin most of my conversations with words of similar effect. I then informed him that I had conducted my own study, which elicited a surprised "Oh" from Dr. Ganz. I thought that maybe I was onto something, so I asked the professor if he knew of anyone else who had conducted a similar study. To the best of his knowledge, he did not. So right away I had a new statistic: number of journalists, correspondents, editors, and writers who bothered to check out their facts before reporting them: 0.
I then asked Dr. Ganz if he had personally viewed all the hours of the Raw episodes in question. He replied that he had not, but that all of the students viewing the tapes had been instructed to meet standardized criteria so as to avoid personal interpretation. Fair enough.
I first shared with Dr. Ganz the disparity between the number of times a wrestler was struck with an object on his study and mine. "Dr. Ganz," I asked, "when adding up the number of times that a wrestler was hit with an object, did you include replays of the blows?"
"Yes, I did," he said.
"Okay, would you have included B-roll footage from a previously recorded show?"
"Yes," he said again, "anytime the World Wrestling Federation chose to clearly show one of these shots on the screen we counted it."
As I was writing down his quote, the professor spoke again, this time with a question of his own. "Did you?"
"No, Dr. Ganz, I didn't." I was still finishing his quote, so I didn't elaborate on my answer.
"Why not?" the professor asked.
This time I did elaborate. "Well, Dr. Ganz, if someone told me to look at a tape and count how many home runs Mark McGwire hit last year, I don't think I would include videotaped replays." Unquestionably a good po
int, and one that brought forth my next question. "How about entrance videos? For example, the reason I don't wrestle anymore is I was hit way too many times in the head and face."
"I'm sorry to hear that," the professor interrupted, and I believe he meant it, too.
"But when I walk down to the ring, I can be seen getting hit in the head with chairs on several occasions. Would you count those too?"
"Once again," Dr. Ganz replied, "if there was a conscious effort made to show it, we included it."
Okay, I could live with that explanation.
Next I wanted to ask about the results of wrestlers grabbing or pointing to their crotches, which is commonly referred to as "crotch chopping." I think that labeling it as grabbing or pointing is a little inaccurate, as a "crotch chop" makes an X with the wrists, so that the fingers actually end up pointing away from the penile instrument. I had recorded 640 of these crotch chops, while Dr. Ganz had compiled a whopping 1,658—that's a lot of chopping! Now, out of 640 chops, 530 were recorded by X-Pac, who seemingly had the market cornered on that particular gesture. Don't get me wrong, I like X-Pac, and I think he's one of the most talented guys in the business, but damn, I was getting tired of seeing him chop around his penis for forty hours. He's prouder of that thing than Kurt Angle is of his Olympic Gold. Still, I made a weak attempt to cover for him.
"Dr. Ganz, over eighty percent of all pointing to the crotch was done by one wrestler."
"Was his name X-Pac?" Dr. Ganz asked.
"Yes, his name was X-Pac. I noticed that X-Pac tends to point to his crotch in quick bursts of four. Would you count that as four small rude gestures, or just one big one?"
The professor laughed before confirming my suspicions. "That would count as four."
"So I take it you would be counting all of the gestures on their entrance video too."