I can remember when he stood up from the car, it was like he didn't stop. He was only five feet away, and it seemed like I couldn't see the top of him. It was like looking up at a skyscraper, and as he looked down at us, he smiled and the deep grumble mixed with French he said "hello boys." I couldn't speak. His size, his presence, forget about it, I was crippled. He saw the autograph books and pens in our hands, simply reached for them and signed them. After he handed them back and patted us on the head, he said, "enjoy the show." If he only knew. As I grew older, I realized just how cool that was, what a sweet man to take out the time and make our day. Andre was truly a legend, inside and outside the ring. When he passed on, I almost cried, as I definitely felt the loss.

I got started watching wrestling in fourth grade, and all started with a girl I liked. I went to her house, and she was watching wrestling. Figuring is she liked it, I would get into it and have something to discuss. After the first tv match, I forgot all about the girl, and found a new love. Back in those days, wrestling was territorial, all I could get here in upstate NY was the WWWF. (Then soon it changed to the WWF) I read about NWA and AWA, but never saw it until years later when TBS superstaion became available in my area. The biggest thing was, house shows was the bread and butter of the wrestling business. Utica, Syracuse, Albany and every little town in between was on a monthly circuit, and guys did programs up and down the east coast. Wrestling came every month and I remember paying only five dollars to see legends.

I came from a broken home with a very abusive father. I lived through wrestling to escape the misery in my real life. I dreamt about being in the ring, being the heel, the star, whatever. I made up my own backyard league before the phrase was coined, and lived, ate and slept nothing but wrestling. I knew it like a baseball fan knows Yankee stats. My father hated wrestling, which made it better, and would just drop us off, and pick us up afterwards. I learned quickly to sneak backstage, meet my idols and learn all about kayfabe and it's power.

My biggest connection that solidified my love for the sport happened on one Sunday when I was going to watch Terry Funk fight Dusty Rhodes. My father told us to load up in the car, we were going to Aunt Winnie's. Now I loved my Great Aunt, but wrestling was on!! When we got there, she opened the door and said, "Sit down, shut up, wrestling's on." I just about died. During the matches my Aunt would scream and yell at the screen and I piped up to defend on of the stars. When my father told me to be quiet, my Aunt looked at him and said, "He's talking about wrestling, YOU be quiet." I never saw my father treated like that, and he knew to be quiet. From that day my Aunt shared all her wrestling stories, and it showed me I wasn't alone. My Aunt died at the age of 92, and I'll never forget her influence, and the way she spat at the screen every time she saw Hulk Hogan. (Ever see a 90 year old woman spit at at a tv before???) My Aunt had a legacy of hitting wrestlers with bricks in her purse, stabbing them with hat pins and more. I toned it down, so I silly string them, throw candy sprinkles on them and just become part of the show in memory of one of the greatest fans, Winifred Vaughn.

Well, I've bored you enough for now, check back every week for a different story in my never ending tales of wrestling, wrestlers and who knows what.