Authors: Mick Foley
Dude Love tape, November 1983: We are gonna tear this rotten apple right down to its stinking New York core, and while we’re here, we’re here for only one reason, one reason only: fame, honor, fortune, glory, to destruct, destroy, and to take that that World Wrestling Federation Championship Belt …
Mick: And during the course of the movie, dating back to my experience at Madison Square Garden, I decided I was going to do something heroic, I was going to do something to make people cheer for me, so I ascended up onto my friend’s roof, and I dove off.
J.R. voice-over: Ironically, The Loved One gave Mick Foley his first break; it became an underground hit and somehow wound up in the hands of wrestling great Dominic DeNucci. DeNucci admired Mick’s guts more than his skill and took him under his wing. Every weekend for the next two years Mick traveled 800 miles round-trip eating and sleeping in the backseat of his ‘79 Ford Fairmont still hoping to realize his dream.
Mick: I knew I wasn’t ready to be Dude Love yet, I never wanted to be Cactus Jack. I figured here is a horrible name for a horrible wrestler, and by golly as soon as I get the ability that I’ll get that heart-shaped tattoo on my chest, I’ll put those earrings in, and I’m gonna get the girls. And it never really worked out that way, did it, Jimmy?
J.R.: Not quite.
Mick: I guess nature didn’t cooperate with me. Cactus Jack was supposed to be around for three months. He stayed for eleven years. What made Cactus Jack different was that he just wanted it a little bit more. He was willing to go the extra length. He was willing to sleep in a filthy car in order to achieve his dreams. He was willing to forgo romantic relationships to be the best. He was somebody in an era of bodybuilder physiques who carved out his own niche, who said I’m gonna make it on my own style, who said, “No one else is gonna tell me what to do, I’m not going to dye my hair. I’m going to be exactly who I am, and I’m going to do it my way.”
J. R.: Don’t you think that it’s about time in your life where you looked squarely in the mirror and accepted the personal responsibility for who you are? Don’t you believe that you yourself have caused and brought on all these problems?
Mick: I think it’s time for you to maybe start doing your damn job. I think it’s time for you to end this facade of journalistic integrity. You know what you tell the people week in and week out? You say “Look at Mankind, I don’t even know if he feels pain, or maybe he likes pain.” You see you’re a powerful man, Jimmy, you have got the ability to reach a lot of people, to spread the truth, and you neglect to do it. Let me ask you a couple of questions. What is it about pain that I love? You see, I feel just like every other person, you see that? [ripping his hair out violently] It hurts! Is it when I can’t get up when my little boy says, “Daddy, I want to play ball” and I can’t do it? Is that where the fun starts? Is it where a doctor injects a 12-inch needle into the discs in my spine so I can wrestle one more day? Whoopee! Let the party begin! I can’t believe you sit here and ask me those questions. Do I bring it on to myself? I haven’t done a damn thing to you. All you’ve done to people is mislead them and let them think I’m having the time of my goddamned life when I’m in pain! Don’t you look at me with that smug look. You make me sick. A man of integrity; I ought to smack you …
(Mankind attacks with the mandible claw)
Off-screen voice: Jimmy? Jimmy? Jimmy? Can we get some help … ? He’s gonna need some help ….
The response to the interview was overwhelming. It was shown in four segments, and each week I could feel the momentum growing. The interviews were never intended to make me a “good guy,” but the pieces came off so well that I started being cheered. Every week, the reaction grew, to the point where I soon was one of the most loved wrestlers in the company.
I should point out now that it wasn’t simply the interview that made the piece so successful-it was the presentation as well. Chris Chambers produced the specials and did a phenomenal job of weaving childhood photos, the infamous Dude Love video, and even Japanese death match footage into the story. Dave Sahadi and Doug Lebow are two other extremely talented producers that the World Wrestling Federation is lucky to have. As a former television production student, I am well aware of their importance to what we do, as without them we might very well look like fat guys in their underwear, pretending to fight.
Perhaps the biggest star of the entire interview series was my fantasy creation of Dude Love. I began receiving letters from fans about my Dude dream that had inspired them to follow theirs, and there was even a small contingent of Dude Love signs in the arenas. I was surprised one evening to hear Bruce Pritchard say, “You know, we’re going to make a Dude Love shirt,” and I was literally shocked when Vince later proposed a radical idea. “Mick, for one night only, somewhere in the future, we’re going to have a Dude Love match on Pay-Per-View.” I could not believe it. Dude Love in the World Wrestling Federation-oh, have mercy!
My contract negotiation had also gone well. It didn’t make me rich, but it certainly provided security for my family, and if invested wisely, the money could make me wealthy over time. I was able to have several advantageous conditions worked in, and my final deal was considerably more lucrative than the one offered a year earlier. With the contract talks behind me, I was now able to lie down at night secure in the knowledge that I was making only slightly less than a second-string shortstop hitting .187 for the Mariners. True to his word, however, Vince started putting the company’s promotional power behind Mankind, and he seemed to explode in the summer of 1997-the Summer of Love.
Coming off a tremendous final match at the King of the Ring, my feud with Hunter Hearst Helmsley was met with great enthusiasm around the country. Helmsley, better known now as Triple H, was a talented wrestler whose star was just starting to rise, and our battles throughout the summer were highlights of my career. I remember one specific match in Nassau Coliseum where I had both Hunter and Chyna (his bodyguard) caught in the dreaded double mandible. The crowd was going crazy, and I couldn’t control my emotions. “This is great!” I yelled, with an enthusiasm more befitting a thirteen-year-old touching his first female breast. To further the emotional high, I saw Colette and the kids sitting in the stands as I started to exit through the curtain. I went back, picked up Noelle, and spun her in the air as the usually tough Nassau crowd softened up. I put her down and reached for Dewey, who screamed and ran as if I were a Disney character.
Dewey was funny that way. He loves wrestling more than anything in the world, but for years was terrified of going to the matches. During my first year with the Federation, he had gone into such hysteria in Savannah, Georgia, that I had to dress in the kitchen. Later that summer, in Bangor, Maine, with author Stephen King in attendance, he had actually watched the matches but covered his ears the entire time to drown out the noise. Stone Cold had spotted the little guy in the stands and smiled. “Has he been covering his ears the entire time?” he asked.
“Well, all except during your match,” I answered back. “Then he covered his nose.”
Now it’s a different story, as Dewey surveys the action and expertly offers theories and predictions on all the mat action. And most of the time, his theories and predictions are right on the money.
Mankind merchandise was starting to move as well. I had worn the yellow Mankind happy face T-shirt on my Jim Ross interviews, and they immediately became a big hit. As a matter of fact, they trailed only “Austin 3:16” as the company’s bestselling shirt-but by a substantial margin. The Austin shirt was fast on its way to becoming the biggest selling piece of merchandise in wrestling history, so I didn’t feel too bad about trailing him. At first, I’d look out and estimate the margin to be two to one, then three to one, four to one, and so on, until the entire arena landscape was full of those things.
The shirt was showing up everywhere-on football players, on rock stars-you name it. Austin 3:16 had become mainstream. I used to sit and wonder if any big stars might wear my shirt. That would be a big thrill. One day, I was looking through some underground thrash metal magazine that a fan had given me. All of a sudden, there it was. A musician was on stage with a “Wanted Dead” Cactus Jack T-shirt. Man, it felt good. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know the guy’s name or wasn’t a fan of his type of music-what mattered was that he had thought enough of me to wear my likeness in front of his crowd. I was damn proud, because it seemed to be an affirmation of everything I’d ever worked so hard to achieve. Then I looked closer. The musician had his penis pulled out and was stroking it onstage. My pride shriveled like George Costanza’s member after a dip in a cold pool. I haven’t seen one of my shirts in a photograph since, and to tell you the truth, I don’t want to. I’m afraid.
At this point, Brett Hart and Shawn Michaels had been building up to a rematch of the 1996 WrestleMania that was expected to draw a huge audience. In July of 1997, they had their first fight. It didn’t do a big Pay-Per-View rate or TV rating because, in fact, it wasn’t a televised event. Strangely, it didn’t have a big audience either; in fact, it was seen by only a few people. After sixteen months of anticipation, the big match between Shawn and Brett was a real-life fight in the dressing room. The two, who didn’t care for each other to begin with, had been doing a series of “shoot” interviews, where they revealed their true feelings about one another. In these, they verbally tore each other apart, and as a result, genuine aggression had developed. Shawn lost his interest as a result of the backstage beating, leaving a huge void .in the Federation’s plans. Not only was the potentially lucrative Hart-Michaels match ruined, but the tag team scene was in a shambles as well. Michaels and Stone Cold had been tag team champs, and now General Vince and his lieutenants had to think up another battle plan. I was their secret weapon.
Mankind began petitioning Steve to be his partner, while Steve started a campaign of his own to keep the one-eared weirdo away from him. I began wearing a big sign reading “Pick Me Steve” and taking unbelievable punishment to impress the “Texas Rattlesnake.” Finally, after I saved him from a “Hart Foundation” beating, Steve seemed to lighten up. He called me into the ring and extended the hand of friendship, which I gladly accepted. Steve then grabbed the mike and, in a departure from his bad-ass persona, let his sensitive side shine forth. “Mankind, a handshake just ain’t good enough.” Then, the bald bastard held out his arms for a Mankind hug. Hell, I’m a good hugger, so I embraced the “toughest SOB in the World Wrestling Federation.” Then, in an act of treachery so great it had Benedict Arnold and Judas Iscariot shaking their heads in disbelief, Austin turned on me. He booted me in the stomach, hit me with the Stone Cold Stunner, and even gave me double middle fingers as I lay there in my anger and my shame. This was the kind of thing that could send Mankind over the edge.
A few days later, I received a surprise phone call from Vince. His booming voice wasted no time in making its point. “Hey pal, how would you like to be Dude Love?”
I didn’t know what to say, as his question had caught me completely offguard. “Do you mean for the next Pay-Per-View?” I finally managed to squeak out, after remembering Vince’s previous idea.
“No,” Vince boomed back. “I’m talking about from now on.”
I gulped and actually felt my body going weak at the prospect of the Dude gracing the sacred World Wrestling Federation ring. “Vince, are you sure? I mean, Mankind’s going so well.”
Vince was adamant, but his voice was softer now, actually soothing. “Mick, I’m not saying we can’t ever go back to Mankind, but I just love the whole Dude Love story-and I know our fans will love it too. It’s such a great PR story-Regis and Kathie Lee would love something like this.”
Vince had made me see his vision. I was smiling brightly as I said, “You really think so?” Which was kind of like saying, “Put me over just a little more.” Vince was happy to oblige.
“Mick, the way I see it, Dude Love is going to be huge. Children will love him. The fans who already love Mankind will love him. And guys won’t be afraid to bring their girlfriends to the matches, because the Dude won’t threaten them-he’ll be a safe sex symbol.”
I was sold now but just wanted a little more information. Vince was quick to please. “We will play it up huge. Girls. Pyro. We’re even going to team you up with Steve.”
The Summer of Love was about to begin.
I walked into the Freemont Coliseum in San Antonio, Texas, in July of 1997 and heard an unusual retro-disco beat booming over the loudspeakers. Vince was right there. “Congratulations, Dude, this is your new music.” I had to admit I liked it. I even learned the emotionally touching lyrics and began singing them throughout the day. Hell, I even caught that old softy Jim “the Anvil” Neidhardt singing them one time also.
Dude Love, Dude Love
Dude Love, Dude Love
Dude Love, Dude Love Baby
Dude Love, Dude Love
Believe it or not, I have a platinum album in the closet for “Dude Love” on the World Wrestling Federation-The Music, Volume III CD, even though I didn’t sing it, write it, or play it.
Next, Vince actually tried to teach me how to walk with rhythm. I had been doing the Mankind stagger, the Cactus Jack stumble, and the Mick Foley limp for so long that I really didn’t know how to strut like the hip cat that the Dude was. After several tries, we finally pretaped some footage of just the Dude’s white boots “strutting” across the floor.
The evening’s Raw main event was to feature tag champs Bulldog and Owen against Austin and a mystery partner. Austin had been taped saying, “I don’t need no damn partner,” and was attempting to go it alone. Stone Cold was holding his own for the first few minutes, but the champs then took over as the show started to go to commercial break. “Wait,” Vince yelled over his play-by-play mike. “We’ve just been informed that Stone Cold Steve Austin’s partner has just arrived.” A drum track blared over the loudspeakers as the pretaped footage of the Dude’s strutting shoes played to the crowd.