Giving another angle on some familiar events, this autobiography manages to deal with issues of personal crisis and faith without being overly preachy. Clarke is perhaps best known to wrestling viewers for her love-quadrangle storyline in Dallas with Chris Adams, Steve Austin and Toni Adams, and her brief run as Lady Blossom in WCW. While the wrestling parts of the book are substantial enough to satisfy most readers, including plenty of insight into Chris’s creativity and mind for the business, it’s also very much a tale of real life behind the scenes, including Clarke being married to Steve Austin until 1999. Ghostwritten by Bradley Craig, the book does a particularly good job of simultaneously covering Austin’s early career woes and his rise to superstardom while telling the story of he and Jeanie’s personal life. It’s a powerful reminder that even the most iconic wrestlers are real people, often with a less glamorous reality than the persona. Clarke captures the frustration of being alone running a home and the awkwardness that comes when a wrestler returns from the road and wants only to recharge their batteries rather than go out and about with their partner. While the book is hardly a character reference for Austin (and…
A brisk read, this has its moments but won’t call for repeat readings. Robinson has previously worked on a compilation of WWE road stories and this is of a similar style and format. As the name suggests, its made up of 20 chapters where a WWE star recalls their favorite match and explains why. All but two (Rey Mysterio vs Eddie Guerrero at Hallowe’en Havoc ’97 and Alberto Del Rio’s pro debut in Japan) are WWE bouts, most at major pay-per-views. It’s very much a mixed bag. Highlights include Cody Rhodes and Dolph Ziggler talking with surprising candour about wrestling politics and Ricky Steamboat revisiting his WrestleMania III classic with Randy Savage which, for many years, he though of as nothing particularly special. Several entries are less informative and merely detail the on-screen events, in particular Sgt Slaughter barely mentioning his chosen bout (the Alley Fight with Pat Patterson) and instead recapping his entire career, to the point that it feels as if this was excerpted from an interview for a different project. While the book is smoothly written, Robinson falls short of giving every wrestler their individual voice, meaning it feels a little corporate at times with similar phrasing and…
Long, perhaps overly detailed, and full of twists and turns with an upbeat ending. But enough about how Dallas Page plans his matches: let’s talk about his book. At 442 pages and not even reaching the end of his WCW career, this book certainly doesn’t miss anything out. If you find Page’s style of confidence to be abrasive, this is going to be a struggle. For most readers however, it will be a treat. Part of the bulk is down to the production style, with material coming in three ways (marked by different typefaces): Page’s own account; a third-person biographical sections to fill in the chronology by co-writer Larry Genta; and recollections of many of Page’s peers. It gives a more rounded view, but makes the book feel somewhat intense at times. The length is also caused by what appears to have been a very generous editing process with seemingly nothing left out. Turning to pages at random, you’ll learn about Lex Luger’s luggage packing techniques, the billing process of an early internet service provider and a PR strategy for a nightclub. This might be annoying in some accounts, but its appropriate for Page’s life story. The seemingly lengthy sections…
Within the context of being an authorised WWE autobiography, this is a very pleasant surprise. Released in 2002, shortly after Lawler’s return to the company after an eight-month absence, this puts much more emphasis on his Memphis days than might be expected. Indeed, it’s 250 pages in before the story reaches his WWF debut, although the chronology does jump around now and again to allow for more thematically-focused chapters. Given Lawler was very much an old-school wrestler, it’s refreshing to read a very open take on his career, including his time in an outlaw territory and his big break by impressing Lance Russell with his artwork. The book has the feel of Lawler telling stories, sharing wisdom and insight along the way without actively trying to teach lessons. In particular there’s plenty of talk about what did and didn’t work in booking and, unlike many veterans, there’s no pretence that “every show was a sellout.” It’s very much an autobiography rather than a definitive history, however. If you’re looking for extensive detail on backstage gossip such as somebody in the WWF locker room defecating in Lawler’s crown, or the amazing story of conman Larry Burton, you’ll be disappointed to see…
While wildly entertaining, this comes with a recommendation that carries a disclaimer. While LeBell may be best known to modern fans as the cornerman of Ronda Rousey, if you’re an avid viewer of any US drama of the 1970s or 1980s, you’ve probably seen him before and never realised. A former pro wrestler and stuntman, he was a regular in Hollywood and as a result virtually every show which did a wrestling themed episode would film at the Olympic Auditorium and use LeBell as both the stunt arranger and an on-screen referee. The book is filled with stories from all elements of LeBell’s life, both as a performer and a competitor who was among those who explored the relative merits of martial arts in a real combat situation long before the initials UFC or MMA were ever heard. Exactly how honest the book is is difficult to tell. There’s plenty that sounds outlandish but is verifiable, but at the same time the suggestion that Andre the Giant fought Joe Bugner (rather than Chuck Wepner) at Shea Stadium is a signal that at the least LeBell’s memories shouldn’t be taken as gospel. The book comes with an intriguing backstory. It was…
A couple of intriguing chapters doesn’t make up for some truly atrocious filler here. This always had a tough spot to fill, following on from the huge success of Mick Foley’s Have A Nice Day, which was designed to test the waters for WWE autobiographies. Even without that as a comparison point, this is a half-assed effort however. The pre-wrestling element is arguably the more interesting part of the book, doing a good job of illustrating how a young Dwayne Johnson had the natural heritage to get into the business, but certainly didn’t have an easy start in life and struggled financially as a student and footballer. The wrestling part is less informative and is clearly written with a desire to avoid confrontation. There’s a detailed story of a teenage Johnson being disgusted by the disrespect shown by Lars Anderson on a Hawaii show, but nothing about a similar incident involving Shawn Michaels. Neither does the efforts of Michaels and Triple H to disrupt his early WWF run get a mention. Considering these incidents may have cost the WWE Universe from ever seeing a Rock-Michaels bout, these seem like oversights to toe the company line. It’s when Rocky Maivia turns into the…
This 1974 book is one of the better titles by an “outsider”, albeit one with legitimate credentials. Author Joe Jares was a Sports Illustrated Associate Editor who, in the 1960s, wrote two articles on wrestling, one on how his father performed as “The Thing” and the other on the decline of Gorgeous George. Jares later decided to expand the subject into a book, with the articles making up the first two chapters. He then explored the wrestlers of the day, with chapters on the wackiest characters, women wrestlers, leading villains, promoters, fans and the travel and injuries of life on the road. He concludes with a series of appendices covering topics such as real names, a capsule history, the world title, wrestling footballers, and bouts featuring wrestlers against boxers. Given his real sports background, Jares doesn’t buy in to kayfabe, but the book isn’t written in a mocking tone. Aside from a fun recap of some of the explanations wrestlers give for why their matches must be real, he largely asks carefully worded questions and gets intelligent answers that don’t insult anyone’s intelligence. Paul Boesch in particular is the source of many comments that protect the business while still giving…
Something of an undersung title, this should interest historians and newer fans alike. It’s a series of profiles of (W)WWF stars between the creation of the promotion’s main title in 1963 and the start of the Hulkamania era. While much of each profile may be familiar to more avid fans, each comes with a series of trivia facts that will be new to almost everyone. It’s well-researched, drawing on a combination of previous wrestling books from inside and outside the country (including a lot of quotes from the hugely underrated Fred Blassie autobiography) and interviews with figures from the time including Vince McMahon, Sgt Slaughter and Tony Garea. For the most part it appears largely accurate with only a couple of apparent errors such as Mr Fuji being The Undertaker’s original manager and Ken Patera being in the WrestleMania IV tournament. Neither does it have many glaring omissions, though writing a lengthy section of Billy Graham’s health problems without mentioning steroids is awkward to say the least. There’s also a slight inconsistency as to how wrestling is portrayed. It openly acknowledges performers taking on gimmicks such as Canadian Oreal Perras posing as Russian Ivan Koloff, but at points it’s a…
Millard peels back the curtain on the peddlers of tall tales and fantastical bunk, in those subcultures where the nature of truth is subjective. From pro wrestling’s funhouse mirror world of kayfabe, there’s the method-acted insanity of Brian Pillman, and the mad lies of Hulk Hogan. Martial arts gives us super-spy movie stars, deadly men like Count Dante, who can explode your heart from fifty paces, and the strange, forgotten story of James Hydrick, telekinetic Kung Fu cultist; the man no prison could hold. In the paranormal realm, we’ve Derek Acorah, and the spectacular rise and lurid public fall of Most Haunted. Plus, the BBC’s Ghostwatch, a hoax that became the cultural bogeyman for an entire generation of Brits. And could Bill Murray really be putting headlocks on the strangers of New York? And just what is his connection to Purple Aki? This isn’t a wrestling book as such, but pro wrestling makes up a key part of it, both directly and tangentially. It’s a collection of accounts of a variety of celebrities and other public figures who, for one reason or another, have engaged in bending or breaking the truth. Two chapters deal directly with wrestling. One attempts to…