A funny thing happened to me the other night. Not funny in the "ha ha" sense, but funny as in the oddly infuriating, frustrating sense. Hey, what can I say, I try to find the humor in everything.
I was on my way home with the family, and some idiot behind me decided that going 70 in a 55 zone was nowhere near fast enough for him, so he preceded to ride my bumper the entire time. He zig-zagged in and out of traffic, in an attempt to pass me, but to no avail.
When we finally came to a red light, I was so ticked off I decided to blow the horn, and flip him off.
Now, understand, I am a grown man, far beyond such juvenile antics, yet here I was acting like an 18-year-old with a chip on his shoulder, itching for a fight.
In other words, I went from being Tom Clark, mild-mannered pro wrestling sports writer, to Tom Clark, bada** mo’fo, looking to smash this joker’s face into the pavement.
I was "Stone Cold" Steve Austin.
Therein lies the point of my story. "Stone Cold" Steve Austin was the greatest character in the history of pro wrestling.
I do not make that statement lightly, I have been a fan for over 30 years, and have known a lot of talent in locker rooms for a long time now. I see the entire spectrum of the business from an unbiased point of view, and have no stake in making such grand declarations like the one I just made.
But, the truth is the truth, and for me at least, Stone Cold is the best of the best. Period.
The entire Stone Cold persona is such a naturally-born idea, a character that dwells inside of every red-blooded American man who has ever watched a pro wrestling event.
“You got a problem? Then, let’s do this.”
Call it prehistoric tendencies, call it unbridled machismo, however you label it, it exists. It’s in all guys. It just so happens to come out more often in some rather than others.
For me, it comes out when I’m really mad. I can’t help it, it’s there every time.
Like Bruce Banner’s shirt tearing as his skin turns green, I feel the rage wash over me, as my manhood is tested by some chump who thinks he can run all over me whenever the mood strikes him.
I open up my proverbial can of whoop a**, and start foaming at the mouth every four-letter obscenity I can think of.
“Look at you. You sit there, with your styled hair and that stupid grin on your face, driving that little sports car like the whole world should just get out of your way. You think that impresses me? What? Son, there ain’t an a** been created I can’t stomp a mudhole in, and I’m about to do it to yours.”
Then, I drag him out of the car and give him the beating of a lifetime, putting the boots to him as he lies on the asphalt, and I flip him off the entire time.
The truth is, I sat still. My wife looks at me and says, “That was a little redneck-ish, what you just did.”
Leave it to a woman to ruin my Charles Bronson moment.
She was right, though. Makes no sense for me to pick a fight with a guy I don’t even know. What if he had a gun in his car? What if he was like some crazy cage fighter who just looked like a pathetic little worm with good hair?
My two-year-old son was in the backseat, and I, as the mature father, husband and provider, should keep my temper in check and do the right thing.
But, when my inner Stone Cold speaks, I listen. I just can’t help it.
Austin’s character seemed to not be in control of his actions, either.
Think about it. He attacked, on a regular basis, Vince McMahon. His boss. The guy who could, storyline-wise, fire him. Austin would lose his livelihood, his paycheck, his career, all gone in a flash. Why? Because he could not control the raging spirit that dwelled within him. Rarrggghhh.
Incredible Hulk TV series reference aside, this is why I believe that Stone Cold was the greatest character in the history of the business.
He tapped into something within pro wrestling’s main demographic: the aforementioned red-blooded American man.
He said, and did, whatever he wanted, without fear of reprisal. He was unstoppable, a beer-swilling, steely-eyed, black leather vest-wearing modern day John Wayne without the nice side and displaying an even worse temper.
A modern day outlaw who shot first and didn’t ask any questions.
Why was Austin so over? Because he didn’t hold back. Because he didn’t care. He represented the American spirit minus the hope and promise.
“You got a problem? Then let’s do this.”
Spots are great. A guy who can talk and move a crowd has won half the fight already. Austin was great on the mic. But, actions, for lack of a better phrase, speak so much louder.
Austin was all business, all the time. No one did it quite like that before him, and no one has done it that way since him.
So, here’s to "Stone Cold" Steve Austin. A great character, a great gimmick and a bad mood that is better off left buried deep inside this writer.
But, there’s this neighbor who keeps turning his crappy music up way too loud at the worst times. Uh-oh, is that a rip I hear?
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