SUNDAY, APRIL 6, 2014—4:23 P.M.
Twenty-four years ago, WrestleMania VI’s Ultimate Challenge altered the landscape of the WWE Universe and forged a new breed of fan that rallied behind a behemoth named Ultimate Warrior. Among them was Daniel Bryan. Long before he discovered technicians like Shawn Michaels and Bret “Hit Man” Hart, the submission specialist was an enthralled young Warrior himself.
In the wide halls of the Mercedes-Benz Superdome, Bryan encounters the grayed yet ever-intense Ultimate Warrior, mere hours prior to WrestleMania. He shakes hands with the presently neon-fringe-free legend for the first time and fulfills a moment little Daniel Bryan only dreamt of years back.
“I’m looking forward to your match,” Warrior bellows at the five-foot-eight Superstar as they break.
Ironically, tonight, Bryan takes aim at breaking the mold Warrior once propagated as a successor to “the Immortal” Hulk Hogan. An industry that once flourished on the backs of big men is about to change forever.
When I was walking down the hall the day of WrestleMania and saw the Ultimate Warrior backstage, I had to take the opportunity to say something to him. I don’t see myself as someone the old-school wrestlers and WWE Legends would recognize, but Warrior was certainly very nice and, to me, quite sincere. He said, “You’re doing a great job with what you’re doing.” I don’t even know if he watched what I did closely, but it was an honor and pleasure to get the chance to go up to him and tell him that I was a huge fan of his as a kid.
This first live wrestling show I ever went to took place in the summer of 1990 at the Tacoma Dome, about ninety minutes from our house in Aberdeen. My parents surprised me with the tickets when I came home from school one day after I’d heard an ad for the show on the radio and, for weeks, begged my mom and dad for us to go. I would have wanted to attend any wrestling show at the time, but what made me feel like I needed to go to this one in particular was the DJ’s announcement of one person competing that night: the Ultimate Warrior.
When the first notes of Warrior’s entrance music hit, the entire Tacoma Dome erupted. I cheered as loud as my little nine-year-old voice would permit, while standing on my chair to get a better glimpse of my hero. He sprinted to the ring, his face painted and his huge, muscular arms made even more vascular by the vibrant string tied around his upper biceps. He shook the ropes like a maniac as soon as he got to the ring and the crowd roared with approval. The Ultimate Warrior looked like a superhero on television, but in person, he looked like a deity.
That’s all I remember from the show—that entrance, that energy. It transcended the visual and auditory excitement I’d previously only gotten from seeing it on a TV screen. Live, you could feel it. That excitement struck a chord in me that I’ve never forgotten.
Nobody else in my family who was there that night remembers Ultimate Warrior’s entrance. They remember his opponent, “Ravishing” Rick Rude. In the middle of their match, Warrior attempted to give Rude a sunset flip. Rude stood his ground—with his back to us—and he would not go down. In order to gain more leverage, Warrior reached up and pulled at the top of his tights. Still Rick Rude would not go down … but his tights sure did. His bare ass was directed right toward us.
My dad loved telling this story and howled laughing every time, mostly because of my sister’s reaction. Her mouth went agape and her eyes opened wide. She stared in shock for what seemed like an eternity, and then dropped her head down in embarrassment. It was the first adult male butt she had ever seen. Embarrassingly enough, there’ve been many times in my career when I, too, have been sunset flipped and had my pants pulled down. I wonder if there were any mouths agape and eyes widened. I wonder if mine could be the first adult male butt some kid has ever seen. (My dad always howled laughing at that thought as well.)
Meeting Ultimate Warrior was cool, yet the best part was seeing how much he loved his little girls and his wife. Bri was one of the Divas who walked the Hall of Famers out to the stage that weekend, and she told me that Warrior didn’t want anyone but his daughters to walk him out. I’m a big softy, and it always nearly makes me cry at the Hall of Fame when guys talk about their wives putting up with them over the years and how family got them through so much. With his passing, it was hard to lose one of the guys I adored as a child, but what really made it heart-wrenchingly sad for me was how much he loved his family.
One year, I dressed up as Ultimate Warrior for Halloween. My mom got me face paint and sewed me a costume—a stuffed bodybuilder-type bodysuit with neon spandex-covered strings stitched on the arms. Years later in 2010, I worked a show with NWA after I’d been fired by WWE. A fan had won the opportunity to announce the main event of the show, which was me against Adam Pearce. The guest announcer was incredibly nervous and when the guy announced me, he mistakenly presented me not as the American Dragon but the Ultimate Dragon. So I came out and decided to do a full-on Ultimate Warrior entrance, sprinting to the ring, shaking the ropes, and all that.