On August 2 in Terre Haute, Indiana, on Thunder, I had my one and only opportunity to step into the ring with one of my idols and a true legend in the business, The Great Muta from Japan, when he came into WCW for a quick run for the first time since 1990. Sting, Wrath, Brian Adams, and I took on Muta, Jarrett, Vampiro, and The Demon in an Eight-Man Tag Team Match.
The Great Muta was one of the guys I’d emulated in my early days. His calculated, sweeping martial arts approach had inspired me all those years. When I met him, I was surprised to see he matched my size. With the way he moved, I’d always thought he was smaller. If we were ever in a real fight, I’d have a problem. The Pearl of the Orient exceeded my expectations in the ring, and it was a true honor and career highlight to meet and perform with him.
A couple of weeks later, I defended the World title against Jarrett at New Blood Rising 2000 in Vancouver, British Columbia, on August 13 in a crazy fifteen-minute match. At one point, the referee was out and Jarrett went for the guitar smash. I Harlem Sidekicked the swing, taking the shot to my right knee. He kept trying to injure me with the figure four, and I gave him a huge Book End through a table off the ring apron. In the end, I Book Ended him out of his boots in the ring and kept my title.
My victory against Jarrett turned into a vengeance angle as he came for some payback during my match with Nash on the August 28 Nitro in Las Cruces, New Mexico. Nash had Russo and Steiner in his corner, and Jarrett had been assigned as the special guest referee, stacking the deck against me. When I was getting the upper hand and nearing a finish, Russo tossed Jarrett his loaded particle-board guitar and exploded it over my head. They always had that thing loaded with talcum powder for extra dramatic effect, and it sprayed all over me, setting me up for Nash’s Jackknife Powerbomb.
Taking a powerbomb from anybody is always a little scary. Anything could go wrong. You could be knocked out and wake up paralyzed. Getting hit by a guy standing six feet eleven is terrifying, but Kevin was always a pro and took care of me when pulling me up for the big release. It was almost like he floated me down as I took the massive fall.
With that, I lost my World title after only a month with it.
It turned out the Big Gold did come back to me a little sooner than expected when I got the rematch against Nash at Fall Brawl 2000 in Buffalo on September 17 in a cage. Steel Cage Matches still completely took me out of my element and limited my range as a performer. Everything from simply being whipped into the ropes to trying to climb the top turnbuckle became trying.
In this case, the cage was implemented as an equalizer in my favor due to all the interference I kept getting in my matches from Jarrett, Steiner, and Russo. Now they couldn’t meddle in my affairs.
Kevin and I lumbered around inside that chain-link fence for about ten minutes, getting all our moves in before he saw an opportunity for the Jackknife, which I countered into a Book End for the pin.
I was the WCW World Heavyweight Champion for the second time!
I thought I’d seen the last of the inside of a cage for a while, but I was wrong. For Nitro, at the Nassau Coliseum in Long Island, Russo booked himself against me in a cage for the World Heavyweight Championship.
I thought, What’s this all about? David Arquette the sequel, only worse?
Maybe Russo was feeling insecure. I know there were wrestling editorials out there giving him a hard time every week. That garbage would wear anyone down. Russo wanted their approval so desperately, and I’d seen that obsession ruin people over the years. Maybe Russo became so fixated on winning fans over that he figured he’d insert himself into onscreen angles, as Vince McMahon was successfully doing.
Russo entered the cage wearing an entire New York Giants uniform and helmet. The match was a mess, with everyone getting involved. The Filthy Animals and The Natural Born Thrillers slugged it out on the floor. Luger handed Russo a pipe to beat me senseless with. Sting rappelled from the ceiling. Flair ran in dressed as an EMT. Steiner slammed the cage door in my face as I kicked it back into his. Last, the now-healed Goldberg came in and speared Russo through the structure just before I walked out. Since he was technically the first one through the cage, I lost the belt to Vince.
I thought the whole event was another embarrassment for the World title and WCW.
The following week, Russo realized there was no way he could hold on to the belt and declared it vacated. It was official: in my opinion, Russo had no idea what he was doing. He tried to fix the problem by simply giving the title back to me in San Francisco on October 2. On that Nitro, Jarrett, Steiner, Sting, and I faced off in a four-way dance with the first two performers.
Jarrett pinned Sting while I got the best of Steiner, setting up a ridiculous contest called The San Francisco 49ers Match, involving poles with wooden boxes on them positioned in each of the four corners. The belt was hidden inside one of the boxes, and the first man to locate it was the new champ.
Jarrett got the edge in the beginning and scrambled for the first box to find a blow-up doll. Then I controlled him enough to open the second box and found a framed picture of Scott Hall, a backhanded reference to his firing. Jarrett and I had no idea what was in each of the four boxes other than the title one, so the image of Hall caught me off guard as the cameraman zoomed in for a close-up.
The third box held the Coal Miner’s Glove used in the Spin the Wheel, Make the Deal Match from Halloween Havoc 1992 between Sting and Jake Roberts, months before I was even in the company. Just as it seemed Jarrett would get the fourth and final championship box, Beetlejuice, a black man of short stature from The Howard Stern Show, came out of nowhere and started punching Jarrett in the balls as he was reaching for the box. He went down, and I capitalized by leaping up, grabbing the box and the belt to become a three-time WCW World Heavyweight Champion.
Although it was great to go over again, I felt the winner should hold on to the belt and establish credibility for himself and the company.
For me, Russo’s writing and booking skills left a lot to be desired. I decided to talk to him about it. “Man, you’re killing me and my career with this stuff. What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this,” he said. “I completely understand where you’re coming from, and I’ll make it right. I promise.”
I’m not really sure he understood what I think everyone backstage did. Time was running out for WCW if we didn’t make drastic changes fast.
“Big Poppa Pump” Scott Steiner was the contender to step up for my next feud over the WCW title with our first PPV brawl happening at Halloween Havoc 2000 on October 29.
We were in Vegas, and setting the tone of the match from the beginning was ring announcer Michael Buffer. With his distinct voice and trademark intro, he asked the audience, “Are you ready?”
They applauded.
“WCW fans, are you ready?” He drew out the last word.
They cheered even louder.
“Then, for the thousands in attendance, and for the millions watching around the world, ladies and gentlemen, let’s get ready to rumble!”
And the crowd erupted as my music hit.
As I stood at the top of the ramp, my pyro went off, bringing the crowd to a frenzy. They were ready to see me defend my title, and I was ready to entertain.
The match with Scotty was as brutal as any I’d ever been in. We hammered each other from start to finish. At one point, the match spilled out over the guardrail and into the crowd, with Scotty hammering away on me. Careful of the ten count-out from the ref, Scott rolled back into the ring and back out again to reset the count.
As I lay there trying to recover from his assault, he picked me up and slammed me through the announcers’ table, right in front of my brother, who was doing commentary.
Steiner took advantage of the moment by berating my brother while I was down. “You’re next, you son of a bitch!”
“You haven’t even beat him yet!” Lash yelled back, pointing to my crumpled body on the table.
As the action made its way back to the ring, Steiner would get the advantage by delivering a turnbuckle fall-away slam on me. He showboated with some push-ups and double-bicep poses while I lay there, broken.
The fight continued with Scotty pummeling me back to the outside and then again into the ring, where I finally got the upper hand. Mounting the top rope, I connected with a perfect missile dropkick, covering Steiner for the two count. We both got up, and I bounced off the ropes, delivering my scissor kick, and we both collapsed to the ground in exhaustion.
Scotty used the moment to roll toward the ring apron, where his valet, Midajah, handed him a lead pipe. WCW Championship be damned, Scotty hit me with the pipe as I went for a kick. He then dropped it and went after the referee, kneeing him in the stomach and hanging him upside down in the corner of the ring.
From that point on, it was pure chaos. Numerous officials came in to stop him, but Scotty grabbed his pipe again and began beating each one who entered the ring.
I rolled out onto the floor, where Steiner continued to assault me with a metal chair.
When all was said and done, Scotty and I put on a compelling and brutal match that saw me keep my title due to Steiner being disqualified.
Unfortunately, my knee was acting up again, and after my match with Scotty, it got to the point that I knew I’d need surgery for the third time. Because of this, it was decided that Steiner would win the title and become the new WCW World Heavyweight Champion. I was looking forward to doing the honors for my friend, but I was a little worried about the knee locking out and hyperextending. Still, this was business, and everyone counted on the champ to step up.
So at Mayhem 2000 on November 26 in Milwaukee, Scotty and I finally squared off in a messed-up Straitjacket Match in a steel cage. The point was to grab the hanging jacket, put the other guy in it, and get a submission or pin. We were all over each other in a blur of heated punches, kicks, and slams. Scotty got the jacket down but tossed it to the side. I finally got him down with a spin kick and went for the jacket myself. I had him pretty well stuffed into it before he recovered and put an end to his fitting session. He hit me for a backflip with a Steiner Line, tore the jacket off, and eventually hit me with a steel chair, knocking me out before locking on the Recliner for the submission victory. Scotty then dropped me and started ripping at my leg brace, repeatedly striking my knee, effectively writing me off TV.
Just like that, Scott Steiner won his first WCW World title and ended my third championship reign. I’d be gone from the scene for the better part of three months, until February 2001.
I was genuinely happy for Scotty. He deserved the company recognition. He’d been working consistently and always took it as hard as he gave it in the ring. I thought it was long overdue for Big Poppa Pump to have the Big Gold around his waist, and I made sure to congratulate him backstage on my way out.
Relieved to have some time off, I seriously pondered retirement. As I healed up again with a scoped-out knee, feeling like the six-million-dollar man put together again, I concentrated on fishing. I’d bought myself a nice big bay boat, and I took it into the Gulf of Mexico as often as possible. There I was, the three-time WCW World Heavyweight Champion of leisure on the open seas with a Corona in hand, line in the water, and sunshine on my face as the New Year rolled into view.
By the time the Sin 2001 PPV arrived on January 14 in Indianapolis, I’d been coming around to some of the shows and hanging out with the boys backstage. It was close to two months since I’d been sidelined. I was feeling rested, and thoughts of retirement were behind me. In fact, my fever for the ring was soaring. It would be another six weeks before I was cleared to come back, but it was nice to be around the sights and sounds of the action.
During my absence, Mark Madden was fired, apparently for making on-air references to the possible sale of WCW as well as Scott Hall’s release.
For quite a while, there’d been rumblings about the company’s financial problems. I heard several companies were making offers to buy us out, including Bischoff himself and his new group, Fusient Media Ventures. A big merger was about to take place with Ted Turner’s Time Warner and AOL.
At the time, though, I wasn’t aware of most of this information, and like anyone else in the locker room, I had to sit and wait for something to happen.
While at the Conseco Fieldhouse before Sin 2001 started, I walked around saying my hellos and shaking hands as usual and decided to see what was going on in the ring area.
As I walked down the ramp, I noticed Sid practicing a jump from the second turnbuckle, something I’d never seen him do. He was simulating a giant right boot to the face while coming down flush on his left foot alone. Sid was a monstrously tall power performer with long legs definitely not meant for any flat-footed landing from even as high as the first turnbuckle, let alone the second. It didn’t look right at all.
It turned out one of the agents in the back wanted Sid to hit that jumping boot to the face on Steiner during their Four Corners Match for the World title with Jarrett and Road Warrior Animal. Apparently Sid had protested trying the unorthodox maneuver, but the agent had eventually convinced him to do it.
When the match went down and it came time to deliver the move, Sid jumped onto the second turnbuckle and went for the flying boot to the face. While landing on his left leg, he completely compound fractured it in a perfect right angle to the left.
I was watching in the back and jumped up. It was like seeing a skyscraper pancaking on top of itself. Sid was lying there with his leg literally dangling up and down as if it were severed, only his boot keeping it attached. Steiner didn’t even notice it at first and started stomping him, going on with the match as planned while Sid held his knee, writhing and in shock.
It was the worst injury I’d ever seen in my life, period. It was insane to watch Scotty, even after realizing Sid was messed up, keep going over and crushing his throat with the boot until the mystery fourth opponent showed up. It turned out to be Road Warrior Animal, and even he ran over and kicked Sid in the head before Steiner covered him for the pin.
I don’t know how Sid kept from passing out or why medics didn’t immediately come down with a stretcher.
After Sid was out, it was the talk of the locker room for weeks. I felt terrible for him, trying to imagine what was going through his mind while he was in that ring staring at his leg.
It would be years before Sid made a full recovery. Shockingly he even started wrestling again on the independent circuit. But neither Sid nor anyone who saw the incident at Sin 2001 will ever be able to erase that image from memory.
I finally made my return to the ring in New Orleans on February 26 for Nitro in a Six-Man Tag Team Match with DDP and Ernest Miller against Steiner, Bagwell, and Luger. It felt great to be back. I had the energy of ten men and pushed myself to the physical limits. In the end, I cracked the back of Steiner’s head flush with my scissor kick and scored the pin.
Afterward, the three of us left through the crowd and stopped at the top to celebrate with the fans for my Louisiana homecoming. A couple of weeks later, I faced off with Scotty’s brother Rick for his United States title at the Greed PPV in Jacksonville on March 18. A guy could always count on a rough one with The Dog-Faced Gremlin, who punched like a mule kicks and clotheslined like a jackknifed eighteen-wheeler.
We beat each other up, and at one point he yelled, “You ain’t getting shit,” in reference to his title, but he was wrong and he knew it.
After he climbed up on the top for his flying bulldog, Shane Douglas came from behind and whacked him to the mat while the ref was down.
I picked him up for a Book End and won my first WCW United States Heavyweight Championship.
On March 23, the news we all feared reached us. The rumors about WCW being bought out by another company after the AOL-Time Warner merger proved to be true, but what was shocking was the identity of the buyer.
Unbeknownst to any of us, Vince McMahon had thrown his hat into the ring. He’d secured the purchase of his own competition. After seventy years of existence in various formations of Georgia Championship Wrestling and Jim Crockett Promotions’ Mid-Atlantic Championship Wrestling, WCW had just been placed under the thumb of the WWF once and for all. For each of us performers, the future was now in the center of Vince’s palm.
When I heard the news, I took a deep breath and braced myself for the changes ahead. I considered my options and where my talents could take me. I knew I could go to Japan or even Mexico, where my style and reputation could carry me to the highest echelon in their professional wrestling companies.
But from the onset, I suspected I was WWF-bound, heading to those cold cities up North and reinventing myself with a brand-new cache of performers. It seemed destined from the beginning of my career, but I’d always placed the dream on the back burner in favor of the security and familiarity of WCW.
At the last Nitro, known as The Night of Champions, three days after the sale on March 26 in Panama City Beach, Florida, there was no formal meeting presided over by Bischoff and Russo. There weren’t any farewell speeches. We weren’t given WCW memorial plaques. It was just gloomy everywhere I looked. The news meant the end of the mainstream period for most of our careers. Even the production crew and creative guys faced the possibility of career changes.
I ended my performances with WCW with a final match against Steiner by jumping out of a powerbomb attempt into a Book End for the pin, giving me my fourth World title and unifying it with the United States belt.
Immediately after, a couple of guys asked me to hand over the belts as they were now commodities of the WWF. I later heard Steiner, who had an exact replica belt cast from Flair’s original Big Gold, had swapped his out for the original while he was champ. Aside from that rumor, I have no idea where the first incarnation made by Crumrine now rests.
From there, I went back to Houston and waited for a call. Although I wasn’t sure when, I knew an offer from the WWF was coming.
During the last Nitro, Shane McMahon had pulled me aside. “Booker, it’s going to be great working with you. We’ve looked forward to bringing you over for years. Both my mom and my dad knew you’d be one of the key acquisitions from this place when the time came.”
Because of that, I knew my place with the WWF was secured. It was just a matter of when and how.
Most of the marquee-value guys in WCW like Steiner, Goldberg, Flair, Nash, and Sting had significant time left on their original contracts with Turner’s Time Warner, which still had to be honored even after the merger with AOL. The offer was made that anyone could take a 50 percent buyout in order to take jobs elsewhere, or they could stay at home and collect their full contractual salaries. All those particular guys decided to ride it out and sit pretty—but not me. With only about a year left on my contract, the buyout was the only answer. Waiting around was not an option for me.
I remember Flair telling me once, “A wrestler’s worst enemy is time off. The adage of out of sight, out of mind is absolutely true.”
If the WWF called and had an immediate offer and angle for me to step into, I’d be ready and willing. To me, standing still would’ve been tantamount to sprinting backward.
With that decision made, I talked to my brother about whether he’d take the buyout and go with me. Maybe someday the WWF would reunite Harlem Heat.
“Nah, Brother,” he said. “I’m not interested in starting all over and having to prove myself again. What we did in WCW’s good enough for me. I’m hanging up my boots.”
And that’s exactly what he did. He went back to Houston and used some of his savings to open up a car wash and invest in a trucking company. It suited him well. And if it made him happy, it was fine with me too.
As it turned out, I was the only one of the WCW performers to take the AOL-Time Warner buyout. Other guys, such as DDP and Bagwell, were able to move to the WWF right away because they were at the end of their contracts.
My first official contact from the WWF came from Director of Talent Relations Jim “JR” Ross. He called to tell me I was at the top of a short list of WCW performers the company was interested in. He was all business and stated I wouldn’t be making the same amount of money as I had in my last run in WCW. But he did explain I’d have a guaranteed amount subsidized with PPV and merchandise revenues and that the sky was the limit to make even more than I had back in Atlanta.
“It’s all up to you, Booker. Your international stage and branding are at your disposal. What you do with those elements is up to you.”
“That’s all I need.” I’d make my own way through hard work and determination.
“Sit tight,” he said, “because even as we speak, creative is fleshing out the plan to bring you in.”
That sounded good to me.
As much as I was excited about my own career, there was someone else who’d signed with the company whom I had quite the vested interest in.
Just before the sale of WCW, Sharmell had been one of the first performers released from her contract. The WWF had contacted her and signed her to a developmental deal and sent her to Ohio Valley Wrestling (OVW) in Louisville, Kentucky. OVW was the company’s farm system for training new wrestlers where they lived, ate, and slept every aspect of the business in preparation for a prospective call to the big show on Raw and SD. I was so proud of her.
We’d always discussed the possibility of being on the road together again someday. The idea was a real possibility now that I was going to be part of the WWF.
In May, JR called again to explain how they were going to assimilate WCW performers into the WWF’s roster. They planned an invasion angle where they would gradually introduce the main players who came over, such as DDP and me, week after week on Raw and SD.
Soon, I answered the phone to hear JR saying they had something really big for me. My official surprise debut would be at the King of the Ring (KOTR) 2001 PPV on June 24 in East Rutherford, New Jersey. The rest of the details were vague, but my WWF stage was set and I was ready to step onto it.