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Pleasure and Pain

Posted: Jul 31st 2006 By: mikeiles

NEW PORT RICHEY - Andre the Giant stepped on his head in Madison Square Garden and knocked out a tooth.

King Kong Bundy treated his body like a 400-pound pinata.

He could engage Bret "The Hitman" Hart in a destructive waltz before an arena full of fans and a national television audience.

Scott Bigelow, better known as professional wrestler Bam Bam Bigelow, was strong enough to body slam a foe through the ring, enthusiastic enough to perform a diving head butt and skilled enough to perfect an over-the-shoulder reverse pile driver, a move he called "Greetings From Asbury Park."

The New Jersey native's athleticism, bad-guy image and tattooed head earned him fame and fortune during a 22-year career that ended in 2002.

But Bigelow, 45, paid a price.

He used to be 6-foot-3.

Now he's 6-foot-1.

His face is thinner than when he appeared on televised weekly wrestling shows, his cheekbones more pronounced.

His shoulders aren't as broad.

He has endured surgeries on his back, knees and elbows.

The alternative, he said, was to take pills until he dies.

People ask whether he will ever wrestle again.

"Wrestling is out of the question," he said in the living room of a comfortable, sparsely decorated home that offers a view of a boat-lined canal in west Pasco County. "If I wrestled now it would be two weeks before I could walk.

"I'm on disability, so I get disability benefits."

Bigelow's ailments are no surprise to Dave Meltzer, who has owned and edited the Wrestling Observer newsletter since 1982. Meltzer, of San Jose, Calif., said there comes a point in almost every professional wrestler's life when their body finally succumbs to the beatings it takes every week - for decades, in some cases.

The big men, Meltzer said, often start suffering sooner than stealthier wrestlers.

"A big guy who flies, he's gonna get it bad," he said.

Bigelow flew often.

"I watched his whole career, from start to finish," Meltzer said. "Of the guys his size, if you're talking [about 400 pounders], he was probably the most agile there ever was. Van Vader was pretty agile, too. But he was probably more agile than Vader.

"He did 'moonsaults,' a back flip off the top rope, but you land in a splash [on your opponent]. He didn't do a full moonsault like guys today; it was more of a twisting body press off the top rope. He would face outside the ring, then come off and twist in mid-air and splash on the guy."

Learned From The Best
Bam Bam Bigelow wrestled for the National Wrestling Alliance, New Japan Pro Wrestling, World Championship Wrestling, Mid-Southern Wrestling, Extreme Championship Wrestling, as well as Vince McMahon's World Wrestling Federation and World Wrestling Entertainment, among other organizations.

As a teenager in New Jersey, though, he loathed the spectacle of men in tights delivering forearms to each other's backs.

"I thought it was so fake," he said. "It wasn't something I respected."

Poverty changed his mind.

In high school, Bigelow was an All-American wrestler. He said he had a scholarship offer but turned it down to earn money.

For a while he worked as a bounty hunter, but the profession was hardly lucrative.

"I was eatin' corn, poor as hell," he said.

So he enrolled in a New Jersey professional wrestling school run by "Nature Boy" Buddy Rogers, an industry icon who made his name on TV in the 1950s and '60s.

Bigelow, who could bench press 600 pounds and run 100 yards in 11 seconds, was a natural.

"If you want to wrestle you have to have talent," he said. "Of course, you also have to learn and have people teach you, and I was taught by the best in the business. I caught on in about six months and I was working in Japan.

"It comes down to athletic ability. I was blessed by Jesus to be able to do flips and enjoy it."

Bigelow no longer tortures opponents with double "underhook" backbreakers, gorilla press slams or diving head butts. But the wrestling business is as much a part of him as the fiery tattoo that covers his skull.

For months, he observed the progress made by American Combat Wrestling, which promotes matches every Tuesday night at Bourbon Street, the nightclub-concert venue on U.S. 19. Bigelow said he is friends with ACW officials and has offered to help the organization grow.

"It's fun. I get to pass the buck, so to speak. It's like coaching a bunch of kids," he said, referring to ACW wrestlers with names like Sideshow, Cousin Dale, David Mercury, Damien Angel and "Roughhouse" Ralph Mosca. "We're looking to be a local company. We want to branch out and do Sunday shows. We want to do charities and help the community. We believe in the children and families. We're growing leaps and bounds."

That's not hyperbole.

His Presence A Blessing
Established by Dave Kocotos of St. Petersburg, the ACW has been doing shows at Bourbon Street for about two years.

The weekly shows started in January.

"He kept coming by and he asked if we wanted help, and we said, 'Of course, you're Bam Bam Freakin' Bigelow,' " Kocotos said. "He's a good guy and seems to care and wants to help people. One of the first times we met him was through a charity event.

"I grew up in New Jersey and he's a hometown hero. Where I come from, Bam Bam walks on water. He's bigger than Hulk Hogan in New Jersey. It's kind of weird working with your childhood hero."

Kocotos said Bigelow coordinates backstage activities, creates story lines and does promotional work.

His presence around ACW has clearly been a blessing. Starting Aug. 11, the company will begin promoting shows every Friday at the Key Club on U.S. 19 in Hudson. Saturday, the organization will promote its first show in Daytona Beach.

Marty Velders, ACW's ring announcer and a longtime collector-dealer of wrestling memorabilia, has been a friend of Bigelow's for about three years.

They met on a karaoke stage.

"Everything he does is from the heart," Velders said. "He's done promos in the ring and he's done some personal meet-and-greets. But he doesn't get any money from it.

"It's all from the heart."

Bigelow's benevolence apparently extends beyond the wrestling world.

In 2000, he saved several children from a house fire in New Jersey, suffering severe burns in the process.

He said anybody would have done it.

"You see a house on fire, you hear kids screaming. What are you gonna do, run away?"

Hard Knock Education
During his career, Bigelow absorbed blows from the likes of Goldberg, Diamond Dallas Page and Jerry "The King" Lawler.

But nothing has hurt like being separated from his children, Shane Bigelow, 18, Scott Colton Bigelow, 11, and daughter, Ricci Bigelow, 8, who live with his ex-wife in New Jersey.

At his waterfront home there is no trace of his illustrious career.

The title belts and other mementos are with his children, he said.

Bigelow took another hard hit last year, when he was involved in a motorcycle wreck on State Road 50 in Hernando County. His girlfriend was critically injured. Larry Coggins, a spokesman for the Florida Highway Patrol, said paramedics didn't expect her to survive. Neither rider was wearing a helmet and Bigelow crashed on wet pavement while traveling 80 to 90 mph, he said. Alcohol was a factor in the crash, public records show.

Bigelow said he has stopped drinking and that the accident has ironically strengthened his relationship with his girlfriend.

Through it all, the imposing but personable man with the tattooed head seems to have found a bittersweet serenity.

"My life is very simple," he said. "I'm not in pain and swallowing pills. I get to do what I want. But the more I get away [from wrestling], the more people try to get me back.

"I destroyed my youth, my health and my marriage, lost my fortune. I'm trying to teach these [young wrestlers] about the mistakes I made. There are ways to do it without getting hurt.

"I don't want them to feel like I do at 45."