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The World According To Dutch: Fighting Fans In a 7-11 Parking Lot In Frost Proof, Florida

Posted: May 15th 2010 By: CMBurnham

I apologize for the lateness of my blog but to tell the truth (as opposed to just telling an out and out lie), I've been so busy that I couldn't sit down long enough to concentrate enough to write a compelling story. I've been working on so many things including my new wrestling school that you just read about above, writing my second book which is expected out in late summer or early fall and working on booking a few wrestling shows around the TN/KY area. But today, I want to briefly talk about how the wrestling business used to be as opposed to what its evolved into today. And I'm going to tell relate a true story. I don't want to sound preachy or that things were so much better back in earlier times but there are pros and cons to both sides of the issue.

One of the main differences in pro wrestling now and back years ago was that fans took the sport much more seriously. The difference is so startling that, as I mentioned in my first book, the only reference point a lot of fans have today is the ring itself. I've talked about this on almost every interview I've done. All of the new guys all look the same or to me they do. They're all 5'10 to 6'2 tall, wear similar attire....have great bodies and all, more or less, wrestle the same. They all look like they could be juniors in college or a model you would see in GQ magazine. Nice looking guys but, for the majority of them, they don't look like they could break an egg. Put photos of the new guys in pro wrestling up against the some of the new guys in MMA and you can see a difference. A huge difference. If a guy in pro wrestling wants to be perceived as rough and tough, I'll have to say that the major promotions today aren't doing a very good job at it.

But that's neither here nor there as to my story today. My story today relates back to when fans believed what they saw was at least 80% real. Believe me, when you showed up for a match and there was a crowd of 2,000 people in a packed and hot high school gym waiting to see you get your ass handed to you, you knew you were the center of attention. Of course, on most of these matches, you did get your ass handed to you if you were the bad guy. But even getting beat, didn't keep fans from wanting to kick your ass. This is a story about fighting fans just because fans believed it to be legit.

It was in the mid 70's and I had only been wrestling a couple of years when I booked myself in Florida for Championship Wrestling from Florida which was one of the leading NWA offices in the country. I had always heard that the Florida promotion did a lot more wrestling than places I had been before like Atlanta and Tennessee. But when I got there, it looked like the same stuff to me. Actually, I fit in perfectly there as they had a style that incorporated a lot of action and great story telling which I had been taught well.

The promotion was based out of Tampa and Eddie Graham was the owner. We worked our asses off there by working 7 days a week and sometimes twice a day. Trips were long but bearable but I loved working in Florida. I loved the company and the people that ran it. Plus I got paid pretty good and for a kid still learning what this wrestling business was all about, I thought it was great. We worked West Palm Beach, Tampa, Miami Beach, Jacksonville, Tallahassee, Ft. Lauderdale, Orando, Lakeland, Sarasota, Ft. Myers, St. Petersbury and every other hole in the road town that they could throw a dart at and hit on a Rand/McNally Florida road map. I don't think there was a town in Florida that I didn't work or at least go through. We worked every day, Sundays included and the only times I remember being off was on Christmas Eve, New Year's Eve and Easter Sunday. All the other holidays were booked and attendance in those days was excellent. In the company at the time was the great Ernie Ladd whom I had met before in Atlanta, Harley Race who was the booker, Eddie Graham who was considered one of the great minds of wrestling and after being around him for awhile, I agreed. Pat Patterson who later became one of Vince McMahon's right hand men was there, Jack and Jerry Brisco, Bob Roop, Lars Anderson, Johnny Valentine, Killer Karl Kox who I learned so much from, Steve Keirn, Mike Graham, Oliver Humperdink, Dick Murdoch, Dusty Rhodes. Thinking back on that crew now is almost like reciting a Hall of Fame roster list. I learned so much from all of them and it was a pleasure to have worked alongside those guys night after night.

Keep in mind that in the mid 70's, wrestling fans in Florida, except for the most hard core fan, didn't even know there was wreslting outside of Florida. But when you worked a territory like Florida with the TV and the TV coverage they had at the time, every wrestler mentioned above was as over and as well known as a John Cena or Triple H are today...or a Rock or a Stone Cold in their heyday. Everybody knew who the wrestlers were. Fans even knew me and I was only a kid still learning the ropes. It didn't matter. Whether you were the Main Event or whether you were the 1st match guy, fans knew who you were and knew your story.

The reason they knew your story was because of a man named Gordon Solie who could make two dogs screwing in a driveway seem important. Gordon Solie, at the time, and even up to this day was considered one of the best play by play announcers in the world. Gordon was great at what he did and his contribution to the Florida wrestling product can never be overstated.

I think I may have stated this fact before but back in those days, fans truly believed that the wrestling game was more or less totally legit. We protected the image of the wrestling profession a hundred times more than its protected today. But with that reasoning, professional wrestlers were targets of fans who thought they were just as tough as the wrestlers they saw on TV. Those were the ones that were dangerous. I should know. I ran into a fan just like that one night in Frostproof, Florida.

Frostproof, Florida. What a name for a town I always thought. Where is it? Well its in the middle of the state about 90- miles east of Tampa and about the same distance south of Orlando. It was a nothing happening town but when we went to wrestle there, the high school gym was packed out with 2,000 screaming fans. I don't know where they came from because Frost Proof, Florida was a teen tiny town on Hwy. 17 S that was stuck out in the middle of nowhere surrounded by a bunch of orange trees and strawberry fields. Since business, at the time, was red hot, the Frost Proof high school gym was completely sold out. I remember how crazy the crowds were in those days and the Frost Proof crowd was no exception. Its really fun to wrestle in front of a big enthusiastic crowd. Great show, no problems...another successful day at the office. So after the matches were over...we all hopped back into the car for the two hour ride back to Tampa where we all lived. Or so I thought.

As per wrestling custom in those days, we stopped at the first uncrowded 7-11 convenience store we came to which was right on the outskirts of Frost Proof to get beer. It was late July and the heat that day in Florida had been unbearably hot. You can imagine how hot it had been in that gym we had worked in that night. But as they say in Florida, its not the heat, its the "humidity'.

Since it was so hot, I was looking forward to grabbing a few beers. I don't drink anymore but back in my younger days, I drank like a fish.

So as we pulled into the parking lot of the convenience store, I could see that it wasn't crowded as there was only one beat up pickup truck with a gun rack in the window parked in front of the store. That meant we could be in, out and down the highway in 5 minutes.

As we parked in front of the store, I saw that there were only a couple of good old country looking redneck types inside the store. One of them was wearing what they call denim overalls and wearing a baseball cap that said 'John Deere' on it. How, you ask, can you remember that?

Hang on, I'm getting to that.

Since I was in a hurry, I got out of the car first to go into the store which if I had waited 15 seconds, 20 seconds, I may have avoided what transpired a few moments later. As I approached the door to enter the store, the biggest one of the redneck guys was approaching the door to exit. We met at the exact same time face to face as the big old redneck looking bastard blocking my way. After a brief awkward pause, I moved to the right to enter...but he moved to the right too. Thinking that was just a mistake on his part, I then moved to the left to enter but he moved to the left too. I looked at him again...and said excuse me and tried to go around him one more time and he blocked me again.

I now got the feeling that I was going to have a little bit of trouble. I looked in his eyes and could see that this guy was kinda drunk. I've learned a long time ago that being drunk leads to problems. I've always been able to sense when things aren't kosher or exactly right in the world and I could always feel tension when it was in the air. I felt it at this point. Just so you'll know a little more about what I was feeling, this guy wasn't a little guy either. He was about 6'1 and had to weigh in at 280 at least. I was 6'but I only tipped the scales at the time at a mere 205, maybe.

Not only was this guy drunker than Cooter Brown, he looked like he hadn't taken a bath since the Vietnam War ended and bore a striking resemblance to one of the mountain guys in the movie, Deliverance? Long hair, scruffy beard and overalls.

So as we stood there eyeball to eyeball, he spoke and said, "Yur one of dem rasslers, ain't ye? Ye don't look so tuff ta mee. Whur doo ye think ye're going?"

Well, you know it's going to be a problem when somebody asks you if "yere one of dem dam rasslers, ain't ye?" But, I replied, "I'm going inside the store."

He shot back at me with, "Nah, ye ain't."

I said, "Yes I am".

He said again, "Nah, ye ain't."

Now it had turned into a personal challenge and I then told him point blank, "I'm going into the store, excuse me."

I then tried to go around him one more time and he blocked me again and this time it was the third time which pretty much made his intentions known. He wasn't going to let me into the store which I took as a personal challenge. At this point, in retrospect, I should have said, screw it and backed away. But, in my way of thinking back in those days, that wasn't my mindset.

So when he blocked me for the last time, I tried to push my way past this 280 pound fatass and when he pushed back, the fight broke out. Just like that. It took maybe 90 seconds from the time I got out of the car until this Deliverance looking bastard and me were throwing down in front of the good old 7-11 in beautiful Frost Proof, Florida. Now thats a great way to spend your evening hours. Fighting rednecks down at the local 7-11 convenience store parking lot. Damn, sounds like f'n fun to me. Maybe we can get a FACEBOOK fan page dedicated to that cause.

As the incident broke down like a 4-10 shotgun, out rushed Deliverance #2 but to his credit, he didn't get involved. The two guys I were with didn't do shit either. I was punching this bastard as hard as I could but all he was doing was shaking his head and moving forward. I landed some hellacious shots on this big bastard but it wasn't having the desired effects that I wanted it to have. Actually, I hit him so hard one time that I think it hurt me more than it did him. This whole thing had gone south fast and since my punches weren't doing any damage except to my hand, I decided to shift strategy in the middle of the fight. I then tried to take him off his feet and maybe I could put some boots to him while he was down.

That brilliant shift in strategy ended up a mistake..as I learned later. As I tried to leverage under him, we both ended up crashing and burning head over heels over an old Tampa Tribune newspaper stand or rack. They don't have racks like that anymore. Some people may still remember them but you had to put in a quarter and then the door would open and you would remove the morning newspaper.

As we both went over the top of the newspaper rack, I was trying to get this big asshole off of me but 280 pounds of drunk ass redneck is hard to move. I finally got to my feet and the fight was continuing but by this time, the big guy was starting to breathe heavily and my punches had a little more sting to them. Funny, but his guy never hit me with one punch because while he was big, he was slow. But if he had ever connected with any of those haymakers he was throwing, he would have knocked me into the next county.

Then off in the distance, I heard a siren getting louder and getting closer. Now this guy I was fighting looked kinda stupid but he wasn't that stupid so we both broke off the fight right as the police car came into plain sight. Apparently, the store employee had called the police and sure enough, up pulled the pride of Frost Proof, Florida, the city policeman with his blue and red lights flashing. The guy looked like Barney Fife as he approached us and I don't blame him. He was alone and he didn't know what he was stepping inot. As a matter of fact, you could add two more people to that list. Me and the guy I was fighting. We all were in the dark as to what was happening. All I knew is that a fight had broken out, for whatever reason, I don't know. Looking at the policeman, he looked scared as this may have been his first call to handle a REAL INCIDENT.

As the policeman rushed up to us, he asked what the hell was going on. I don't know why I said this but I didn't roll over on old Bubba and blame him, I just said "Nothing. We were just messing around". I lied like a bastard and had no idea of why I said that but I knew that if I was arrested, it was going to cost me at least $200 and maybe a nights stay in jail. I also knew that since I didn't beat the crap out of this guy...I might have gotten fired for not doing so by the wrestling office. . In those days, bookers and owners didn't give a crap if you fought somebody on the street, all they cared about was if you won the fight. Since the guy I was fighting was still standing, it could be construed as not winning.

The officer then looked at old buttface Bubba and asked him what was going on...and he must have taken the cue from me because he said 'nuttin. Wes just playing round."

I then realized that I may have been fighting a complete and utter idiot. I thought, this Son of a Bitch can't even speak English!!! After hearing him butcher the language, I had serious doubts that he had ever taken an English class or for that matter, any class. Bastard.

So there we were ...11PM in the parking lot of a 7-11 convenience store in Frost Proof, Florida...a town I had never stopped in before in my life...fighting a guy I had only met 3 minutes earlier and a confused, jumpy police officer standing in front of us with red lights blinking all over the place. How in the f**k did all this happen so quickly, I asked myself? We stood there like little boys having gotten caught with their hands in the cookie jar...when the police officer, who was as confused as the rest of said, "OK break it up...and get the hell outta here before I arrest the both of you."

Old Bubba walked over to the that beat up piece of crap truck he was riding in and drove off. I got back into the car I had just gotten out of a few minutes earlier. I never made it into the store, never got the beer I had stopped for and had almost gotten arrested for being stupid. Now I started to understand how quickly things can reach a tipping point and people could get really hurt. Why any of it happened, even today, is beyond me as stupid as that sounds.

As we pulled off from the store, I felt a little pain from my right ear and I reached up to feel it with my right hand, I felt a warm liquid on my fingers. As I pulled my hand down, I saw that blood all over my fingers. I then looked down at my shirt and saw blooddrops on my front. One of the guys with me took a look at it and said that my right ear lobe was cut and ripped and probably could take a few stitches. I don' know how that happened as ole Bubba never really got a punch in on me. Apparently, when we went over the Tampa Tribune newspaper stand, my ear had either caught on the edge of the rack or the protruding brick window sill on the bottom of the plate glass window. We were still about a 100 miles from Tampa so I had to wait until I got back to Tampa to dress my wound.

I got home about 1:30AM and by that time, I was halfway drunk and with blood all over my shirt. Getting into a fight didn't prevent me from stopping at the next convenience store for beer. My wife took one look at me and off to the ER she took me. Two hours and 8 stitches later and 200 dollars less richer, thanks to that asshole in Frost Proof, Florida, I emerged from the University of South Florida ER. I've said this a lot of times but being in the wrestling business back when I started, you got challenged and when you were challenged, you had to stand your ground. Not every challenge, of course, ended up in a physical fight but those things happened. I know. One of those had just happened

The night ended up costing me a couple hundred dollars but I knew that word would get back to Eddie Graham, the owner of the promotion, about the incident. I knew it was a matter of time before Eddie got around to asking me about it. Sure enough, that Sunday in the Sports Arena in Orlando, Eddie walked up to me and asked me what happened. I told him the story just like I've written it here. Eddie had a very piercing stare about him and when you were talking to him, he looked you directly in the eye which made it difficult for anyone to judge a reaction. When I finished telling him the story, I halfway expected him to say, well I got to finish you up. But he didn't. Eddie was one of the sharpest minds in all of pro wrestling at the time and I wanted to stay on his good side but I learned something from Eddie that day. He was fair too. All he said to me was, "Good job kid. Work on your punches." That's all he said and never said another word about it.

On a side note, about 10 years later, my path would cross with Eddie's one more time as I ended up booking Florida in the mid 80's. But during that time, Eddie Graham ended up committing suicide by gunshot. That act literally stunned me to my core because I had total respect and admiration for the man and his death affected me greatly. There is or will be a chapter on the Eddie Graham story in my new book sand I'll go into detail on the entire situation. I just wanted to say Eddie was one of my early mentors and I miss him greatly. RIP Eddie.

I never said I was a good fighter...but I did prove one thing that night. The big Deliveranc bastard wasn't too good either. Bastard.

All I can say is that the guys now working in WWE/ROH/TNA will never know how tough it was for the guys who came before them. In ways, things needed to change and in ways, they needed to stay the same. I liked it better the old way.

THE END

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