Read THE STONE COLD TRUTH Online
Authors: Steve Austin,J.R. Ross,Dennis Brent,J.R. Ross
THE STONE COLD TRUTH (16 page)
I never figured that Brian was going to die, at least not at the age of thirty-five years old. He was Brian Pillman and he was going to keep doing whatever he was doing. And he was going to make it, because he was that strong.
Now, when I look back and look at where Brian was, I can see some of the signs that he was in a little deep. But I certainly didn’t know what he was on. I wish not only that I’d talked to him, but that I’d tied him up with a rope and said, “Damn it, you’re going to a place to get clean,” and then been forceful about it.
I got a chance to talk to someone several months ago who was having
some of the same problems, and I didn’t hold back when I voiced my concerns. I’ll never, ever lay back and think a guy’s too strong to die again. After what happened to Brian Pillman, I’m always going to voice my opinion and let the sumbitch know straight up what I think and what he ought to be doing about it. It might not be my business to speak with someone like that, but I’ll make it my business.
It would have been nice if Brian could have stayed around and hit a big chunk of change. He made decent money, but he never got to hit the big money. I haven’t seen Brian Jr. in two or three years now. He’s a real cute kid. He looks like he’s going to be just like his dad. He’s definitely carrying some of Brian’s genes. He may turn out to be a helluva football player, or maybe he’ll be the guy who turns the business on its head one of these days.
Brian had a helluva “Pillman Hall of Fame” down in his basement, all of his college and pro football accomplishments, which were numerous. It was well put together, one helluva cool room. I never knew the guy was such a big football star. God dang, he had all kind of awards down there. I hope his widow, Melanie, has maintained it for all of Brian’s kids to see.
Brian had throat cancer as a child. It took thirty operations before he was three years old to get him over it. Pretty tough kid.
That’s why it’s so important to me to wear the gold chain that Brian gave me. If I’m wearing it, then Brian is right there with me. I sure miss that raspy-voiced hell-raiser. He was a great friend.
J.R.: When WCW teamed the combustible and charismatic Brian Pillman with the wrestling machine named “Stunning” Steve Austin, I thought that there was finally some sanity on the twelfth floor of the CNN Center, and that perhaps the company was going to actually build for the future and develop some new stars. Pillman and Austin felt like money to me. Both had athletic skills, passion, a thirst to get over and both were not “dumb jocks.” But this duo never really got the opportunity I feel they should have. I can’t tell you exactly why, other than the normal wrestling politics that many of us have seen and personally experienced over the years. It is not a flattering side
of our business, though I’m pretty sure office politics exist in most business environments. For whatever reason, the “office” half-assed it with the Hollywood Blonds, which resulted in Brian and Steve falling off the main event level where the money is. Perhaps management didn’t know how to manage these two new-generation talents. This was a very frustrating time for Steve, and I am sure many guys in his position would have said to hell with it. But he didn’t. He hung in there and persevered. He would not quit. But that didn’t keep him from getting fired by WCW.
How Eric Bischoff Fired Me from WCW
I
had hurt my knee wrestling in WCW, so I was out of action a little bit. I came back as soon as I could and WCW sent me on a wrestling tour of Japan. It was a three-week tour that included me, Arn Anderson, Ron Simmons (Faarooq), Chris Benoit, Eddie Guerrero, Dean Malenko and a couple of other guys, all great workers.
On the third night of the three-week tour I jumped off the ropes to give a guy a splash. A simple, stupid splash! Unfortunately, he moved and I landed wrong on my right arm and tore my right tricep muscle off my elbow.
I ended up wrestling for two and a half weeks with a torn tricep and a sore knee, which I don’t recommend to anyone, and didn’t miss a single show. After I got back to the U.S. and went and got the medical exams, the doctors told me how bad it was. The next day I was in surgery getting my tricep reattached to my elbow. While my elbow was healing, I went to a WCW TV taping every now and then, just to see the boys and to watch the matches.
I remember seeing Kevin Sullivan, the booker, in the hallway. He said, “Hey, how’s it going, Steve?”
I said, “Oh, pretty good. I’m rehabbing and hope to be back soon.”
Sullivan was short, well under six feet, had been around the world with the wrestling business, was a good “office politician” and had one helluva Napoleon complex. I don’t think he liked me a whole lot for some reason.
Looking back, I think Sullivan had a hand in what was about to happen to me.
Soon afterward, I got a phone call from Janie Engle, who worked as Eric Bischoff’s assistant. Bischoff, a former announcer, was running WCW for Ted Turner at the time.
Janie said, “Hey Steve, give Eric a call when you get a chance.”
Now, Janie was a good person. You talk about someone who knows all the dirt on the old WCW and where all the skeletons are buried, she does. Before WCW, Janie had worked for NWA promoter Jim Crockett Jr. and UWF owner Bill Watts, in Dallas.
I was at my buddy’s pawn shop when I got the call, so I went back to my house. To tell you the truth, I knew exactly what was going to happen. I gave Eric a call and got put on hold. Then he picked up the line and said, “Steve, it’s Eric.”
I said, “What’s going on, Eric?”
He said, “I just wanted to let you know that, based on the amount that we’re paying you and based on the number of days you’ve been
incapacitated, we’re going to exercise our right to terminate the agreement.”
Me, Steph and mom at my house in Douglasville, GA.
I thought about it for a second and said, “Well, basically you’re telling me I’m fired, right?” Fired from my contract, which was bringing me $300,000 a year at the time!
And he said. “Yeah.”
I said, “Okay, are you going to send me something in writing?”
He said, “Yeah, it’ll be there tomorrow.”
And that’s how I got fired by WCW.
To this day, I don’t know exactly why they did it. Maybe they thought I was an injury problem. I wasn’t—I was working my ass off.
But the thing that really pissed me off was the
way
I was fired. You know, I only lived thirty miles from CNN Center in Atlanta. It wasn’t like I was going to kick Bischoff’s ass for firing me. I mean, treat me like a damn decent human being and invite me down there and say, “Steve, we know you’re hurt and we’re sorry about that. But we ain’t got nothing for you.”
In other words, I thought he should have fired me to my face. The way it went down was totally disrespectful.
On the other hand, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Some time before, Bischoff had actually said to me, “You know, Steve, you might need to find something else to do for a living, or somewhere else to go—maybe New Japan or ECW—because you go out there in those black trunks and black boots, and there’s not a whole lot of ways for me to market that.”
He actually told me that I’d never amount to anything, and then he fired me. I’ll never forget that day. At the time, it wasn’t much fun.
But looking back, it actually turned out to be one of the best days in my career.
J.R.: I have told Eric Bischoff several times since he joined WWE that one of the best things he ever did while he ran WCW was to fire Austin, because we would wind up signing him and the rest is history. Eric did many good things managing WCW, especially when you consider the success of Monday Nitro. That was great competition, which made both companies work smarter and more aggressively. Actually, Eric was not the first boss to fire a talent who went on to become a star, and he will not be the last. I’m just happy that Bischoff pulled the trigger prematurely on the “unmarketable” guy with the short black boots and black tights.
ECW! ECW!
“SuperStar” Steve Austin Debuts
A
fter I was fired by Eric Bischoff, just about the time that my tricep was getting well enough for me to think about doing some things, Paul E. Dangerously (or Paul Heyman)—the guy who had managed me in WCW—called me up out of the blue.
