September-October 1987: Downtime with the Dragon
September 28, 1987
Ricky Steamboat stretched back in his bed in his home in Mooresville, North Carolina. [1] With his demanding schedule, it was great to have a little time off. Granted, he liked being the WWF Heavyweight Champion and all the publicity it brought, but after the strenuous schedule of being on the road with the most successful wrestling company in America, he was glad to get some time to himself and his family. The clock in the hallway began to strike nine, and Steamboat smiled as he looked down the hallway from the bedroom. His one-month old son Ricky, Jr. (“Richie”, as they called him) was asleep in his room, and for once, the child wasn’t crying. After the constant feeding, cuddling, and changing of diapers throughout the day from him and his wife, Steamboat was indeed quite tired.
Ricky’s wife Bonnie emerged from the bathroom, her long blonde hair wrapped in a towel. She smiled at Steamboat as he looked at her. “Little early for you to be taking a shower, honey,” he said matter-of-factly.
“I know, I know,” Bonnie replied as she straightened her bathrobe. “But these last few days have been pretty hectic.”
“Definitely,” Steamboat said as he reached for the bedside table, picking up the remote control for the bedroom TV set. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, though. Still, it’s nice to get a little bit of time to regroup, no matter what goes on.”
Bonnie smiled and nodded in agreement. Just then, the familiar sound of crying came from down the hall. Bonnie sighed. “I think that one means he’s hungry again,” she said. “The doctor was right: after a while, you recognize which cries are which.”
Steamboat stifled a laugh. “Call if you need anything, honey,” he said, watching his wife disappear down the hall. He turned to the television set, turning it on with the remote. A news report was on, discussing the Republican Presidential candidate race to take place next year. Reverend Pat Robertson had announced his candidacy a few days prior [2], and with current President Ronald Reagan’s impending exit from the White House next year, the race was predicted to be a tight one.
Just then, Bonnie came back through the door. “We’re good…for now, anyway,” she said, climbing into bed beside her husband. “Anything on worth watching?”
“Mostly just the news,” Steamboat said, flipping through another channel or two. He eventually caught a glimpse of an older, bald-headed man in a red uniform entering a spaceship, as an array of people in brightly colored uniforms went about their business on board. Steamboat chuckled to himself: he’d heard that
Star Trek: The Next Generation was premiering tonight, but he hadn’t made it a point to check it out. [3] He was only vaguely familiar with the original
Star Trek, but to him, anything without Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock in it just wasn’t
Star Trek. Still, Steamboat paused to watch a bit of the show for a while. Patrick Stewart, the man who played Captain Picard, seemed to be a very good actor, and the young blonde lady in the yellow uniform sort of reminded him of his wife, except with shorter hair. [4]
Steamboat’s wife yawned beside him. “Turn that off, please, honey…I’m getting kind of tired.”
Steamboat looked at his wife. “You don’t want to stay up and watch Johnny Carson?” he joked.
“No,” she said. “Besides, that Shandling guy is hosting tonight—I checked the
TV Guide.”
Steamboat nodded, turned off the television with the remote, and settled into bed.
“When do you have to be back to work again?” asked Bonnie.
“The 12th,” Steamboat replied, stretching out comfortably under the sheets. “And I’m going to enjoy all the time off I can.” [5]
October 1, 1987
Music producer Maurice Starr tapped his fingers nervously as he held the phone to his ear. “I know the last album flopped,” he said, “but the same thing happened to a lot of acts that were eventually given second chances!”
“I’m well aware of that,” replied Columbia Records President Walter Yetnikoff on the other end of the phone. Maurice Starr was known in the music business as the brains behind a few musical acts, the biggest being R&B sextet New Edition, who had gone on to have several big hits. However, in Yetnikoff’s eyes, this new group Starr was trying to promote—a five-man former bubblegum pop group whose members were all teenagers—just reeked of being a copy of New Edition. “But it seems to me like you’re trying to make lightning in a bottle again. I’m just not convinced these kids are the next New Edition.”
“They’ll be 20 times as big as New Edition,” Starr urged. “The only thing they need is for you to give them the opportunity…”
Yetnikoff was silent for a few seconds, but then sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Maurice…I just can’t take that chance. I’d appreciate it if you stopped calling, too.”
With that, Yetnikoff hung up. Maurice Starr was silent for a while, but he finally sighed as he hung up the phone. It looked as though, at least for now, the record industry just wasn’t ready for The New Kids on the Block…
October 2, 1987
“…the damage from the quake was immediate, and widespread,” the man stated over the car radio, reporting on a 5.9 magnitude earthquake that had rattled Los Angeles and its surrounding areas the day before. “The most damage appeared to be near the center of the quake, as well as downtown Whittier, California. Buildings crumbled, walls collapsed, and many homes were completely destroyed. So far, the death total has climbed to thirteen, when an elderly man died of a heart attack due to the shock of the quake.” [6]
Ricky Steamboat sighed as he turned off the radio in his car. Earthquakes, floods, storms…it seemed that no matter when he turned on the news, it was something bad. He shook it off as he pulled into the parking lot of the Mid-Atlantic Gym. Steamboat had opened the place in the early ‘80s, and hoped to run it full-time one day, perhaps when he retired from wrestling. He smiled as he admired the sign out front, emblazoned proudly with the words “Steamboat’s Mid-Atlantic Gym”, with the words “Deli” and “Juice Bar” underneath. [7] He sighed nostalgically: his good friend and former tag team partner, the late Jay Youngblood, used to help operate the juice bar. Since Youngblood’s untimely passing two years ago, Steamboat had missed him terribly, and he had to wipe a small tear from his eye just thinking about his late friend. Quickly composing himself, Steamboat exited his car and headed inside the gym.
Several people were already scattered about, using the weights and workout equipment spread strategically around the gym. A John Mellencamp song faintly played on the old radio behind the front counter. A smile crept over Steamboat’s face again as he glanced around the building, taking time to notice the photos and old wrestling memorabilia on the walls. [8] It had proven to be an insanely popular decision, as many people in North Carolina were indeed huge wrestling fans, whether it was the WWF or (more often) the local territory, Jim Crockett’s NWA.
Just then, a tall, dark-haired man got up from one of the weight benches and walked toward Steamboat, smiling. “Hey, Rick,” he said, holding his hand out. “Good to see you again.”
Steamboat smiled as he shook the man’s hand. “Mike Rotunda,” he said, instantly recognizing the current NWA employee. It had been several years since Rotunda had left the WWF, and Steamboat had heard very interesting things about what he and the Four Horsemen were doing in Jim Crockett’s neck of the country. “It’s been a while, huh?”
Rotunda nodded. “How have you been?”
“Not bad,” Steamboat said. “So glad McMahon let me have a little time off…being the big fish in the company is really draining sometimes.”
“Yeah, I heard you had a new little bundle of joy,” Rotunda said, smiling. “Congratulations.”
“I heard you had one yourself,” Steamboat said, trying to contain his glee.
“Yep. Little Windham’s growing like a weed…he just turned four months old a while ago.” [9]
Steamboat nodded. “So what brings you here?”
“Just enjoying a little workout before the big house show tomorrow. You’re welcome to come watch, you know.”
Steamboat shook his head. “Nah, I’m trying to distance myself from the business as much as I can until I absolutely
have to go back. I only have ten days left to myself, after all.”
“Understood,” Rotunda said as he glanced around the gym. “Well, guess I’ll get back to my weights.”
“Wait a second,” Steamboat said, smiling. “Let me buy you a protein shake—my treat. From one new dad to another.”
October 4, 1987
22-year-old Krist Novoselic was lost in thought as he fiddled around on his bass guitar, trying to get the bridge to the Ramones’ “Sheena is a Punk Rocker” just right for the umpteenth time. He had his heart set on playing music, and even though his parents weren’t too keen on it, he wasn’t about to give up on his dream.
Just then, he noticed something under his bed. He picked it up, finding it to be a cassette tape marked “
Fecal Matter”. “Huh,” he said. “Forgot all about this…maybe I should give it a listen.”
He set his guitar on the bed, headed over to the old stereo in his room, placed the cassette in the tape player, and pressed play. Unfortunately, after only a few seconds, the tape started to skip, and black ribbon began to gather up in the tape well.
“Gah, shit!” Novoselic exclaimed as he pressed the stop button, then attempted to gather up the black ribbon quickly spurting from the tape player. After a few seconds of trying to pry the black tape out of the tape well, he was successful—but not without completely destroying the cassette.
He groaned, and shook his head. “Well, this thing is junk now,” he said, and tossed the cassette tape in the garbage can beside his bed. He briefly considered asking his acquaintance Kurt Cobain to make him another tape, but after thinking for a few seconds, he let it go, and flipped his stereo to the local punk station. If he was meant to form a band, he’d form one—whether or not it was with Cobain would be up to fate.
October 12, 1987
“Hey, Rick!” called Koko B. Ware from a nearby table. “Good to see you back!”
Ricky Steamboat nodded at Ware. “Good to be back,” he replied. He’d enjoyed his time off immensely, but now it was time to get back to work, providing for his family who he loved so much. Thankfully, the snowstorm that had battered the New England area hadn’t prevented him from getting back to work on time, although he was kicking himself for forgetting to bring a lot of warm clothes. Still, it was pretty warm in the World Wrestling Federation headquarters building in Stanford, Connecticut, so he wasn’t about to complain, especially since there were a few vignettes he had to shoot later on. He soon came up to Vince McMahon’s office, and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” came the familiar deep voice of the owner of the WWF. Steamboat walked into the room, smiling at his employer.
McMahon looked up from his desk and smiled widely. “Nice to have you back, Rick,” he said appreciatively. “Have a seat. Hope you’re ready to make up for lost time!”
Steamboat couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, I’ll try my best, sir.” He sat down in one of the chairs in front of McMahon’s desk. “Anything…interesting happen while I was gone?”
McMahon shrugged, smiling. “Eh, same old, same old…well, except for you not being here. I was just going through some notes on how we could bring you back in…me, Pat and the others have come up with a few things.”
Steamboat nodded. “I’m interested to see what you guys have thought of.”
McMahon shuffled through the stack of papers on his desk. “We’ve been building up a Hogan-Andre feud while you were gone—that’s been tiding most people over. But all the ‘Dragon’ shirts and headbands and stuff in the crowd…well, they tell the whole story.”
Steamboat laughed again. “Kids will be kids, I guess.”
“Oh, it’s not just kids,” McMahon said, joining in the laughter. “There are grown-ass men out there decked up and trying their damndest to do kung fu every time we play one of your videos. You’re the poster boy for this place, like it or not.”
Steamboat smiled. “You’re making me blush, sir.” He quickly decided to change the subject. “So how about those ideas?”
“Well, we’ve got our new
Survivor Series show coming up,” McMahon said as he motioned Steamboat close and pointed at some of his notes. “We’ll have teams of 5 facing off against one another. And one match we’re planning has Hulk Hogan as the captain of one team…”
Steamboat smiled. He knew exactly where this was going, and he was looking forward to it.
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[1] Steamboat’s then- (and current-day) residence IOTL as well, better known today as the home of several NASCAR drivers.
[2] As OTL.
[3] Other than incidental butterflies,
Star Trek: The Next Generation is mostly as OTL for now.
[4] All you Trekkies have probably (correctly) guessed that this is Denise Crosby’s character of Tasha Yar. I think Crosby and the former Mrs. Steamboat really did have somewhat of a resemblance to one another…
[5] IOTL, Steamboat lost the Intercontinental Title on June 19th, 1987, and returned for a match at Madison Square Garden on July 25th, for a total of about a month and a week off. ITTL, he gets
slightly less time off, but at least he won’t be buried upon returning.
[6] The earthquake is as OTL, but the number of deaths is unfortunately slightly higher ITTL.
[7] Seen in the picture at the beginning of this update (taken around 1984, according to my source). Incidentally, that’s Steamboat and his wife Bonnie in the photo for sure, but I have no clue who the person on the far left is…
[8] For a peek at what Steamboat’s gym looked like, I recommend you check out
this video from circa 1985, when Steamboat was in the NWA feuding with Ron Bass, Black Bart, and J.J. Dillon.
[9] Your first (and maybe only!) taste of how Bray Wyatt is doing ITTL.
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And just like that, Steamboat is back in the fold after a short absence. Pro wrestlers have very demanding schedules (especially in the '80s!), so the fact that the Dragon is back so quickly shouldn't really surprise anyone. I also hope you guys enjoyed the pop-culture and world event references sprinkled liberally throughout the update.
Coming up: the joint buildup to the WWF's and NWA's next big shows, through the eyes of one Mr. Meltzer.