Foley Is Good: And the Real World Is Faker Than Wrestling

by Mick Foley

  As I stood there, the irony of the situation dawned on me. Mick Foley, the "King of the Death Match," the hero of the "Hell in a Cell," the somewhat proud owner of a gruesome collection of scars, and the survivor of X-Pac's working punches, was getting his ass kicked, or at the very least his tits crushed, by an inflatable rubber tube.

  This next story isn't about my second memorable White Mountain experience, but is a similar scenario, the memory of which was just triggered by my "battle of the tube" account. Prior to this, the painful memory had been somewhere in my unconscious, hidden deeper than the logic in a Jimmy Snuka interview. (Snuka was my childhood hero, but man, his promos were out there.)

  It all went down at Six Flags Magic Mountain, in Valencia, California, in spring of 2000. Many of you may remember Magic Mountain as the cinematic locale of "Wallyworld"—the destination for the Griswold family in National Lampoon's Vacation. Others may recall Vacation for the wonderful shot of Beverly D'Angelo's beautiful boobs in the shower scene. The park is known for its coasters, so it was with fierce determination that I set out on a solitary trek to take them on. These days, when I go places by myself, it makes me an "individual"; when I was seventeen and used to go to the movies by myself, it made me a "loser." In reality, I'm probably a combination of both.

  I was there early, on a weekday during the school year. My planning was paying off, as I was able to ride several coasters without waiting. There were even some wrestling fans, one of whom couldn't stop proudly telling me of his sister's accomplishments in the world of adult films, who rode with me. As the day wore on, however, the crowds surged in, and I realized that long lines might make riding the park's premier rides, "Batman" and "Goliath," an impossibility.

  As much as I like most wrestling fans, all it takes is one meathead with a couple of beers in him, forcing his theories on fake chairs and blood capsules on me, to ruin a day at the park. An hour in line with one or two or sometimes more of these guys is enough to make me want to seek refuge at a screening of the director's cut of Heaven's Gate.

  As I headed for the exit, content with a good four hours of thrills, a park attendant suggested I go up the exit line on the big rides, and even offered to call ahead to make the ride operators aware of my imminent arrival. All right! With a smile on my face and a swagger in my step, I headed for Batman. As I headed up the exit, I thought of the resentment I might get from the people who had to brave the hour wait to be on the receiving end of the six inversions that this leg-dangling miracle of steel and science had to offer.

  With a small case of line cutter's apprehension offsetting my adrenaline rush in a battle for emotional superiority, I poked my head into view. In reality, most line cutters don't face this moral dilemma. By their very willingness to cut in front of people who have paid their line-waiting dues, they show themselves to be self-centered pricks, and as a general rule, self-centered pricks don't care a whole lot about the ramifications of their pricklike behavior. I did.

  I sort of expected a "hey, the ugly guy's trying to cut," along the lines of "hey, the meat guy's sticking his head in the picture" during Rocky Balboa's meathouse training session in Rocky. Instead, I got, "Hey, it's Mick Foley," and "Foley is God," followed by a chant of "Foley, Foley, Foley." This was great. I was shown to the first row of seats—the best seats of all—as the crowd continued to chant my name. I suddenly had a new definition of success: "success is having the ability to cut an hour-long line for a roller coaster, and having the very people that you cut cheer you while you do it." I sat down right in the middle. Uh-oh!

  Due to the dangling, inverted nature of the ride, Batman had a preshaped seat to hold the rider's buttocks and legs snugly. I suddenly guessed that the manufacturer hadn't had my buttocks and legs in mind when they made this ride. Who had modeled for his mold? I got up and looked down at a plastic ass impression that sixties supermodel Twiggy would have found challenging to fit in. I backed up and actually tried jumping in, hoping that my momentum would be enough to offset a lifetime of late-night pizza. I reached up and attempted to pull the safety harness into a locked position. The male and female parts looked to be a good five and three-quarter inches apart. I had been telling my wife for years that five and three-quarter inches was pretty darn big, but this time I actually believed it.

  The ride operators tried to help out—all five of them. They looked like a pack of wild dogs going after a kill as they jumped on, pushed down, and hung off of the safety harness in an attempt to get the hardcore legend in motion. The crowd was no longer chanting my name; they just kind of stared in the type of silence usually reserved for funerals or Test matches. Slowly, I got out of the seat, a dejected, defeated man. There would be no Batman for me on this day. I felt humiliated, and just wanted to go someplace where no one would see me—like a WCW "Thunder" taping. It was then that I started a serious diet. Not to lower cholesterol, feel healthy, or any of those other reasons people deprive themselves of some of life's greatest pleasures. My intentions were far more noble—I wanted revenge on Batman's ass.

  I did ride Goliath, which at 255 feet was the world's tallest coaster, until "Millennium Force" in Ohio's Cedar Point opened a month later at a towering 301. Goliath had made its inaugural run with AT&T pitchman and former WCW champion David Arquette in the front car. Now I know the image of David Arquette doesn't invoke a whole lot of fear, and his title reign may have been preposterous, but any guy who spends his honeymoon on a roller-coaster tour is all right with me. Besides, I want him to ask his sister Patricia if she wants to play Colette in the big-screen adaptation of Have a Nice Day! So I figure I'd better be nice.

  Back to the White Mountains, and memorable experience number two—this time at the venerable locale of "Clark's Trading Post." Clark's has been around for fifty years, and held some nostalgia for me, as I had been there as a four-year-old. The place was famous for its trained bear show, but also featured a genuine turn-of-the-century steam train that took hourly trips along the banks of the Pemigewas-set River. As was tradition at Clark's, an odd, dirty, loincloth-clad, matted-haired creature known as the Wolfman would sporadically chase the train on an old three-wheeled motorcycle while firing gunshots in the air.

  The Wolfman's story line is that he was protecting his gold from strangers. His real story is somewhat more impressive, as he apparently lives his gimmick, and even in the dead of New Hampshire's thirty-below-zero winters can be seen in local bars in his Wolfman regalia. The guy was pretty convincing. So convincing, in fact, that Dewey and Noelle were terrified of him as he sped after the train. Finally, the kids summoned the courage to yell, "Go away, you poo-poo head," and the train chugged safely back into the station.

  A few minutes later, while strolling Clark's old-fashioned Main Street, I was approached by one of the Clark family. His words sent chills down Noelle's spine. "The Wolfman wants to meet you." The Wolfman, he explained, rarely set foot on Main Street, but had recognized me on the train and wanted to say hello.

  My kids were in awe as their dad shook hands and posed with this local icon. Dewey even managed to step in for a snapshot. Noelle, however, clung to Mommy's leg. As we drove back to the hotel, it was clear that the image of the gun-toting wildman was still very much alive in her five-year-old head. With great hesitation, she asked the important questions.

  "Daddy—is the Wolfman coming to the hotel with us?" "No, honey," I assured her, "the Wolfman is not coming to the hotel with us." She thought for a second before asking, "Daddy, is the Wolfman going to eat dinner with us?" Again, I was there for her. "Of course not, little one—the Wolfman will not be eating dinner with us." Now came the big question, the one that had obviously been haunting her. She spoke in a voice filled with fear. "Daddy, is the Wolfman flying home with us?" This time I had to laugh. "I promise you, Noelle, the Wolfman will not be flying home with us." My answer seemed to put her mind at ease. She thought for a second, and it was almost as if a lightbulb turned on in her head and she realized the impossibility of her thoug
ht. There was absolutely no way the Wolfman could fly home with us, and Noelle knew why. "Yeah, him couldn't get on the plane with him nipples showing!"

  Her statement got such a reaction from me and Colette that my daughter was suddenly like a wrestler with a new catchphrase. She even said the N word in Beyond the Mat. "Nipples" has been an obsession with Noelle for the last thirteen months. Come to think of it, they've been an obsession of mine for a whole lot longer.

  Colette doesn't completely share my fondness for the parks, but she does tolerate it. Up until a few years ago I would never dream of going to a park without my kids; it would be like cheating on them. I find, however, that life on the road is just a little more tolerable if I look at it as a paid national amusement park vacation. Besides, my kids do all right. On a recent plane trip with Noelle, we made a comprehensive list of all the parks she'd been to, and how many days out of her life had been spent at these places. I thought the results were impressive. Twenty-six different parks for a total of ninety-three days all in a little over six years' time. An average of one park every twenty-five days.

  I am a roller-coaster addict. I admit it. Sometimes I physically feel like I need a ride, like a junkie needs a fix. Here, then, is a somewhat unofficial list of my favorite parks and rides. So far.

  MICK'S TOP TEN AMUSEMENT PARKS

  1. Santa's Village—Jefferson, New Hampshire. What it lacks in rides, it makes up for in personal nostalgia, a beautiful location, and the magic of Christmas in the summer.

  2. Magic Kingdom—Orlando, Florida. I know I bust on Disney a little, but an uncrowded day with a master touring plan makes me feel like a kid again.

  3. Hershey Park—Hershey, Pennsylvania. Coasters and candy—a formidable tag team. Also the only park with a wrestling arena fifty feet from the exit.

  4. Disneyland—Anaheim, California. Smaller and older than its Florida cousin, but this is the one that revolutionized the industry.

  5. Knoebel's Grove—Elysburg, Pennsylvania. Great rides, low prices, relaxed pace.

  6. Universal Studios/Islands of Adventure— Orlando, Florida. Where else can my kids take on King Kong and sing along with Barney five minutes later?

  7. American Adventures—Marietta, Georgia. A sad day indeed, when I realized that my kids had outgrown it.

  8. Sea World—Orlando, Florida. An educational experience and two great rides. Plus Noelle's classic question, "Are dolphins stronger than Chyna?"

  9. Dutch Wonderland—Lancaster, Pennsylvania. A peaceful atmosphere in the middle of Amish country. A great time until the manager accused me of not paying for my lunch.

  10. King's Dominion—Doswell, Virginia. Great coasters and landscaping. On the downside, too many screaming teenagers.

  MICK'S TOP FIVE WATER PARKS (Take into consideration that I have limited water park experience.)

  1. Blizzard Beach—Orlando, Florida. I wouldn't dare go in the summer, but the "melted glacier" theme is beautiful and the variety of attractions is tremendous.

  2. Waterville, U.S.A.—Gulf Shores, Alabama. Dewey claims this is my favorite, but he's wrong. Go to your room!

  3. White Water—Marietta, Georgia. A beautiful place, and man, did we get our money's worth on the season pass in 1995.

  4. The Whale's Tail—Lincoln, New Hampshire. Sure, I was humiliated, but until then, it was fun.

  5. Six Gun City—Jefferson, New Hampshire. Actually, it's not a water park, but my kids used the two slides for hours. Besides, I love how they give these plastic-and-steel slides names like "The Tomahawk Run" to somehow fit in with the western motif.

  MICK'S TOP TEN ROLLER COASTERS

  1. Rock V Roller Coaster—Disney/MGM Studios, Orlando, Florida. I don't see how Aerosmith helps the Disney image, but its "limo trying to get to the show on time" makes the several inversions through a darkened "city" all the more memorable.

  2. Lightning Racer—Hershey Park. A dueling racing coaster that is wild but smooth—especially for a woody.

  3. The Phoenix—Knoebel’s Grove. A classic out-and-back coaster, with the most airtime I've ever experienced.

  4. Volcano—King's Dominion. The zero-to-sixty m.p.h. in two seconds sends the rider blasting through a volcano and then into multiple inversions.

  5. Twister—Knoebel’s Grove. An amazing thrill ride built by the park, using lumber from their own lumberyard.

  6. Kraken—Sea World. An incredibly smooth steel monster that was marred only by Noelle's "I want to go! I want to go!" temper tantrum.

  7. Superman, Ride of Steel—Six Flags, New England. The first 220-foot drop is almost straight down, and the rest of the ride feels like flying.

  8. Big Thunder Mountain—Magic Kingdom. Incredible atmosphere puts this otherwise tame coaster on my list.

  9. Goliath—Six Flags, Magic Mountain. Similar feeling to Superman, but despite Goliath's steeper drop, Superman's riverside location gives it the edge.

  10. Rudy's Rapid Transit Coaster—Santa's Village. Sure, it's a kid coaster, but Dewey once rode it twelve times in a row and it's where Noelle kissed me because "you're a good man!"

  MICK'S TOP TEN NONCOASTER RIDES

  1. Spider-Man—Islands of Adventure. More amazing elements than any ride on the planet.

  2. Tower of Terror—Disney/MGM Studios. Noelle couldn't stop talking about the "Towa-terra."

  3. Indiana Jones Adventure—Disneyland. I had so much fun riding this with Al Snow that I temporarily forgot I hated him.

  4. Journey to Atlantis—Sea World. Incredibly imaginative, but I learned to take the "You Will Get Soaked" sign seriously.

  5. Splash Mountain—Magic Kingdom/Disneyland. Disney at its best, and great opportunities for Noelle to yell "I see him hiney" at Brer Bear.

  6. Yule Log Flume—Santa's Village. It's not the drop, but the gentle music and beautiful mountain scenery along the way that add it to my list.

  7. Jaws—Universal Studios, Florida. Mideon's Mankind imitation on this ride makes my memory of it even better.

  8. Steam Train—Clark's Trading Post. For making "him nipples" a part of my life.

  9. Sports Cars—Miracle Strip Amusement Park, Panama City, Florida. A long ride on a cool track that cuts through the woods, and a memory of Noelle dancing to "Rockin' Robin" while she drives.

  10. It's a Small World (Holiday Edition)—Disneyland. Sure, the regular version is a little annoying after a while, but it is a thing of wonder at Christmastime.

  This top-ten-list stuff is fun, so why limit it to fun parks? These lists are limited to my personal experience. I'm not trying to say that they're the best—just my favorites.

  MICK'S TOP TEN FAVORITE MOVIES

  1. Rocky—Still gives me goose bumps after all these years.

  2. Boogie Nights—Forget the porno part; this movie's character development was what made it great. Plus, Reid Rothchild rules—yeah, he does!

  3. The Great Santini—Robert Duvall's portrayal of a flawed marine colonel had me fighting back tears on my couch at age thirteen.

  4. The Iron Giant—In a just world, this heartwarming kids' flick would have been a blockbuster, and had a kids' ride named in honor of it.

  5. The Green Mile—I saw it by myself, and had to fight hard to try not to ruin my "hardcore legend" status by crying like a baby.

  6. Schindler's List—This should be required viewing for everyone.

  7. The Wizard of Oz—I wish there was no video of this one so every kid would anticipate its yearly showing.

  8. Godfather II—I like it a little more every time I see it.

  9. Taxi Driver—I used to feel like I had a lot in common with Robert De Niro's Travis Bickle character—which is not really a good thing.

  10. Beyond the Mat—Probably the only chance I'll ever have to sit in a theater with my family and see ourselves on the screen.

  MICK'S TOP TEN TV SHOWS

  1. The Sopranos—HBO's breakthrough show is the first one in years that I have watched regularly. I feel a strange kinship with Tony Sop
rano, with the exception of the cursing-every-other-word and killing people part.

  2. Happy Days—The Fonz is still the man. Heyyy! Except when he grew a beard, taught auto shop, and got married. Whoa!

  3. The X-Files—Now that I'm done wrestling, my goal is to catch every single episode. Also, my attraction to agent Dana Scully grows every day in a way that is almost stalkeresque.

  4. The Bob Newhart Show—I love Bob, and you've got to respect a supporting actor named "Bonerz."

  5. The Incredible Hulk—My favorite comic book was brought to life via Lou Ferrigno, who, when I met him twenty-two years later, was only interested in verbally blasting Vince.

  6. Seinfeld—George Costanza rules! Yeah, he does.

  7. All in the Family—Carroll O'Connor's lovable bigot is an American treasure. The first show I know of to use a flushing toilet for a cheap pop.

  8. Raw Is War/SmackDown!—Sure, I'm on these two, but it's the giants before me—"The Pug," "The Goon," "T. L. Hopper," and "Freddy Joe Floyd"—who paved the way to Nielsen success.

  9. Hawaii Five-O—While other teens were carrying condoms in their wallets, I carried a picture of Jack Lord's Steve McGarrett in mine—both effective forms of birth control. Lord, oh Lord, where has Jack gone?

  10. Thirtysomething—Okay, okay. I know watching every rerun on the Lifetime channel makes me a nerd, but admitting to it makes me a brave nerd.

  MICK'S TOP TEN WRESTLING MATCHES

  1. Terry Funk vs. Ric Flair, "I Quit"—November 1989, Troy, New York. The Funker at his best in twenty-eight minutes of mayhem.

  2. Jimmy Snuka vs. Don Muraco, "Steel Cage"— October 17, 1983, Madison Square Garden. This is not number two for its quality but for what it meant to me as a fan.