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Grappling With Life

Posted: Feb 25th 2007 By: CMBurnham

You don't have to be plugged into the nostril spaghetti of plastic tubes or squint into white hospital skies to start thinking about how you want to be remembered.

Hector Guerrero thinks about it a lot, and except for the limp that follows him into a Denny's restaurant, he looks to be in pretty good shape.

With the stunning death of his 38-year-old superstar brother, Eddie, less than two years behind him, Hector's recent reflections have little to do with conquests in the pro wrestling ring.

"I guess I'd like to be remembered as somebody who loved, somebody who valued other people, because there ain't no wrestling ring in heaven," says the big brother to the late World Wrestling Entertainment champion.

"Maybe it's a smile. Maybe it's somebody who needed a dollar for a beer; who am I to judge how they spent that dollar? I don't know. What I do know is that we value money and riches on Earth, like that's all there is, and that's not enough."

But the cold hard truth is, on www.wrestlecrap.com, Hector Guerrero is remembered for his role in "the very worst of pro wrestling" -- a Vince McMahon stinker called The Gobbledy Gooker. Dedicated to the cheesiest in body-slamming entertainment, wrestlecrap.com sponsors the annual Gooker Award, which invites fans to vote "on all the absolute CRAP we had on our televisions disguised as pro wrestling!"

Guerrero nods and takes another swig of Coke on ice. "The Gooker," he says. "It was Vince's idea, and he called it one of his first failures. But not because of me."

A resigned smile. "OK."

A sigh. "We can talk about The Gooker."


Past is prologue

It's a warm February afternoon, T-shirt weather, a T-shirt bearing the mug shots of Hector's celebrated wrestling family, arranged in the pattern of a crucifix. "A God-fearing family," as Hector puts it. At the summit is the late patriarch, Gory Guerrero, a founder of Mexico's Lucha Libre pro wrestling tradition in 1936.

This is significant, especially if you're planning to attend the Fighting Spirit Pro Wrestling event in Palmetto today, where Guerrero will fight once more and Joe Pipitone anticipates a diverse crowd.

Pipitone runs the FSPW wrestling school, formerly known as Future Stars of Pro Wrestling. As a full-blooded Italian man, Pipitone cultivates a Mafia stage persona. He says things like, "If you don't kiss my ring, my goons will beat you up." And he loves working with Hector Guerrero.

"He's the real deal, and it's an honor and a privilege to have him on my show," Pipitone says in a phone interview. "He gives great advice to the younger guys, and it means a lot to our Spanish community, because he's a legend, especially in Mexico."

To be sure, Hector's long and storied career didn't attain the exposure level of Eddie's. And his starring role as the Gobbledy Gooker is accorded dubious merit today.

"But you know what?" Pipitone says. "The Gooker may have been one of the worst moments in wrestling, but at least people remember it. That's more than a lot of people can say."


These days, a teacher

At age 52, Hector Guerrero doesn't compete much anymore. Maybe five, 10 appearances each year, max. These days, he teaches physical education in elementary school. "Great benefits, man," he says. "Plus, I love the kids."

Back in the day, Hector performed Mexican flying-scissor takedowns for so many acronyms you needed an encyclopedia to keep it straight -- WCW, NWA, AWA, PWF, TNA, HWO, UWC. He dabbled with personas as disparate as Laser-Tron ("I wanted to be like an alien with no face, and horns") to sombrero-wearing Bandidos wearing ammo bandoliers.

He landed a few Hollywood stunt double gigs in flicks like "The Bad News Bears Go to Japan." And, along with his brother Chavo, he relished insulting the bloodlines of Cubans and Puerto Ricans in Miami.

"Oh, they were throwing cups and beers and dirty diapers at us," Guerrero recalls with a nostalgic smile. "The riot squad in Miami would circle around and protect us."

And he squared off against immortals such as Andre the Giant, the 7-foot-4, 500-pound French titan:

"He had a hand like a catcher's mitt. He hit me in the chest with the palm of his hand one time and knocked me all the way over to the other side of the ring."

But the ultimate gig eluded him -- competing in the gold-standard World Wrestling Federation (now World Wrestling Entertainment). Until 1990, that is. When he got a call about participating in a "Survivor Series" promotion, portentously billed as "Egg-citement!" by impresario Vince McMahon.

"So they dressed me up in this turkey suit, like the San Diego Chicken," Guerrero says. "And they built it up like it was going to be a really big thing."

Five hours before WWF fans began gathering for the show at a Hartford, Conn., arena, Guerrero settled into a huge fake egg stocked with food, a TV monitor, and a portable potty. With announcer "Mean Gene Okerlund" counting down his debut, Guerrero punched his way through the top of the egg, beak first, and climbed into a chorus of jeers. As Guerrero attempted to run the ropes and pull cartwheels in his cumbersome attire, a rock 'n' roll version of "Turkey in the Straw" spewed gasoline onto the flames of incredulity.

"At this point," documents wrestlecrap.com, "the crowd, already agitated, was getting downright pissed off. Old ladies were screaming bloody murder, and 6-year-olds were flipping the bird the bird."

Guerrero's Gooker pulled a reluctant Okerlund into his theatrics, but the roar got worse. "They were booing loud, brother!" Guerrero remembers. "I said, 'Gene, what are we going to do?' and he said, 'We're going to get out of here as fast as we can!' "

The Gobbledy Gooker toured WWF events for several months, but the gimmick was sucking wind. In Madison Square Garden, Guerrero cut his shin while climbing out of the egg, and he bled during the hatching. Once in the ring, he couldn't see out the slits of his costume's bulging goggle eyes. He wound up on his rear after botching a handspring.

Only in Orlando, home to Disney World and the willful suspension of belief, does Guerrero recall The Gooker getting an enthusiastic reception.

So the concept was quietly escorted out the back door, along with Guerrero's hopes for expanded visibility with the WWF.

Welcome, and farewell, to the big time.


El Fuego Latino

Eddie "Latino Heat" Guerrero had pulled himself back together at the time of his death in a Minneapolis hotel room on Nov. 13, 2005. He had won a WWE SmackDown event two nights earlier, and was positioning himself to reclaim another WrestleMania title. Better yet, says Hector, his famously reckless brother had been clean and sober for four years.

The autopsy indicated Guerrero succumbed to an enlarged heart, compromised by years of steroid and substance abuse. The WWE responded by initiating random screenings for steroids.

"It still hurts," Hector says as he finishes his soda and blinks back emotion. "I miss Eddie very, very much. But he's well off now, I know he is, because he's in touch with me in my dreams."

Anyhow. The clock keeps ticking. How about that limp?

"Well, you can't fake gravity," says the former bad boy, who's been clobbered with metal chairs, spat on, sat on, hurled, tossed, and twisted like a warm pretzel for more than three decades.

Guerrero ambles slowly toward the restaurant exit.

"But when I get into the ring," he says, "it'll be fine."