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Pro wrestlers? Tampa lunches preserve fellowship of the ring

Posted: Mar 7th 2016 By: Paul Guzzo

It was open mic time, with a wrestling twist.

More than 70 legends of the ring from across generations gathered at O?Brien?s Irish Pub & Grill in Northdale for lunch and conversation, jumping up to grab the microphone whenever inspiration hit them.

It wasn?t poetry or song they shared, but tales of their years traveling the world.

Perhaps the most memorable story came from the host of last Friday?s luncheon, Brian Blair ? a famous professional wrestler before he turned to Hillsborough County politics. Blair recalled the time his friend and fellow grappler Marty Jannetty rode a motorcycle up 30 steps into one of the finest hotels in India and crashed into a lobby fountain as fearful guests ran for safety.

?I had to pay 15 million rupees in damages for that,? a wrestler yelled from the back of the room. ?Someone can buy my lunch to pay me back.?

Similar tales, Blair said, are told every three months, at a time, date and place known only to those invited. It?s been going on for 16 years.

Fifty to 100 icons of professional wrestling living in and around Florida get together at what they call a ?Legend?s Lunch? to reminisce about old times, honor past achievements, catch up on what?s new and make fun of one another ? their top talent, many joke, after grappling.

?What is wrestling without ribs?? Blair, 57, asked the audience.

Among other retired wrestlers who attended Friday?s Legends Lunch were Bugsy McGraw, Tony Marino, The Cuban Assassin, ?Cowboy? Ron Bass, Glacier, Leilani Kai, and Tugboat.

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The hair among some of the attendees is a little grayer. Others are balder. But most are still recognizable even as they wrestle with Father Time. A few look like they could step into a wrestling ring tomorrow.

Wearing a yellow T-shirt with the slogan ?Guaranteed Tough,? 67-year-old Ronald Heard ? ?Cowboy? Ron Bass, in wrestling circles ? still sports his trademark handlebar mustache and intimidating glare.

Fred Ottman, 59, of wrestler Tugboat fame, remains the same giant who once crushed opponents with bear hugs and body avalanches.

And Fidel Sierra, aka The Cuban Assassin, continues to boast a muscular physique barely contained in a T-shirt advertising his Crazy Dave?s Sports Bar in Largo

?It is so great to be a part of this wrestling family,? Sierra, 55, told the crowd. ?I realize it whenever I come to these luncheons.?

Professional wrestling outcomes may be predetermined, but it shares some similarities with legitimate competitive sports.

There is the athletic ability required to perform as a professional wrestler, as well as the physical toll on the? body.

And there is camaraderie.

For more than 300 days a year, the wrestlers work, travel and room together. Then when they retire and no longer see their former colleagues regularly, there is a feeling of loss that is hard to shake.

?This is the only chance for us old-timers to get together,? said Ronald Reed, 80, who as Buddy Colt was one of the top bad-guy wrestlers in the industry from the 1960s through mid-1970s. ?A lot of us spent more time with each other than we did our families. We travelled everywhere together. We come here to catch up. I don?t see most of these guys except when I come.?

The luncheon moves from place to place, a restaurant or bar, and the venue remains open to the public though the event is never advertised to keep fans from swarming.

This luncheon is about spending time with friends.

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It is a tradition born 18 years ago, said founder and host Blair, when his close friend Yasuhiro Kojima of Tampa, better known by ring name Hiro Matsuda, was diagnosed with cancer.

Kojima knew his time was short, Blair said, and he wanted to spend time with his friends.

Blair arranged weekly lunches that included other ex-grapplers living in the Tampa area, such as brothers Jack and Gerald Brisco. Tampa, in fact, boasts more top wrestlers than any area in the country.

Soon after Kojima died in 1999, longtime professional wrestling announcer Gordon Solie disclosed he, too, had cancer, so the lunches continued. Solie died in 2000 but Blair decided to keep the reunions regular by launching the four-times-a-year Legends Luncheon that same year.

?Wrestling is very close-knit,? said radio personality Tedd Webb, who attends most of the luncheons because of the time he spent as a professional wrestling referee in the 1970s, a manager in the 1980s and announcer in the 1990s.

?You come to this and see that they all look at each other as brothers and sisters ? from the main event stars to the guys who rarely won matches.?

Besides the open mic portion of the luncheon, a raffle is held to support the Cauliflower Alley Club ? a Seattle-based non-profit group that helps professional wrestlers in financial trouble by loaning them money for groceries, medical expenses and other needs. Blair is the club?s president.

In addition, two or more wrestlers are honored for their contributions to the industry at each luncheon.

Last Friday, the honorees were Robert Boisclair, who performed for World Championship Wrestling throughout the 1990s as Robbie Idol; and Marlene Belkas, who as wrestler ?The Bone Breaker Homemaker? Sherri Lee won the National Wrestling Alliance Florida women?s title in 1969.

Also recognized was a non-wrestler ? author Scott Teal, whose Crowbar Press has published more than 100 books on professional wrestling.

And throughout the luncheon, private conversations are held, the food left aside as wrestlers walk from table to table.

As the event came to an end, hugs among old buddies slipped into sleeper holds. Pats on the back turned to playful chops. And they all promised to see one another again in three months.

?I?ve taken over 10,000 body slams so I?m not as mobile as I used to be,? said Reed, who played Buddy Colt. ?But as long as I can, I?ll keep coming to this to see my friends.?