The Hardcore Truth

by Bob Holly

  When the fight rolled around at WrestleMania XV, everybody was watching the monitor backstage. The match only lasted 35 seconds and Butterbean nearly took Bart’s head off. It looked like he broke his neck. Everybody’s jaw was on the floor backstage. It was un-fucking-believable. I thought Bart was dead, Butterbean hit him that hard. The trainers brought him back around when he was in the ring. When they walked him to the back, nobody said a word. You could hear a pin drop.

  That was basically the end of Bart’s WWF career on TV. In reality, his career with the WWF had ended the moment he had knocked Steve Williams out. He didn’t know the repercussions would be that big, and neither did I. We knew they thought Steve was going to win but we didn’t know they’d planned a whole storyline based on his win, we didn’t know they had paid him off already — nobody told anybody what the plan was. If they had sat us all down and said, “We need to make this a work but we want it to look like a shoot,” that would have been fine. But because J.R. was so convinced that nobody could beat Steve Williams, he had everybody else in the office thinking it was a done deal too. The whole Brawl for All idea was a bad way to get a wrestler over. Wrestling is a work. If you want someone to get over in order to put him against the top guy, you better make sure everything is a work before he gets to that top guy. If you’re going to make it a real shoot, you’ve got to be prepared to go with what happens. You can’t guarantee a result from a shoot.

  Steve Williams had no idea what he was letting himself in for; he didn’t know Bart. I spoke to Steve about it later in the year and even he said it was a really bad way to do business. If the boys are told that they are going to go out there and fight for money for real, they’re going to do what it takes to win. If management wanted a specific result, they should have told us what they wanted. Instead, they basically wasted nearly half a million dollars and ended the careers of both Bart and Steve Williams. A lot of the other guys got injured during the Brawl for All too, and it really didn’t do anything for ratings. It just wasn’t worth it. Everybody thought the whole thing was a very bad idea. The WWF learned from that and never tried it again.

  Since they were now dead set on crushing Bart, they ended the New Midnight Express. That didn’t bother me because we were going nowhere fast. I went to Creative after Bart won the Brawl for All and suggested that he and I do a rematch at a pay-per-view and base the build-up on the fact that he hadn’t knocked me out. I thought it would draw a little interest because this guy had knocked out fighters who weighed 300 pounds or more, but he couldn’t finish me off when I was only 220. I could have gone out and done promos talking about how the scorecards were a poor indicator and that, until one of us knocked the other one out, we had unfinished business. Then we could have gone out and done a shoot fight. I’m not saying you could have sold a pay-per-view on the match, but it would have been something to add to the presentation and help draw some money. It was definitely better than doing nothing with either of us — but doing nothing was the thing they went with and they pissed on my idea. They didn’t have any plans for me and Bart.

  Still, for me, the Brawl for All was a step forward — I was one of the only guys who didn’t get hurt and I was the only guy Bart fought but couldn’t knock out. That got me noticed and gave me a lot of credibility. It shocked a lot of people, who found themselves thinking, “Wow, Bob Holly is tougher than we gave him credit for.” It planted a seed but it would take a while for that seed to grow. Until then, I was back in the job squad — and very literally, this time.

  Since groups within wrestling were the in-thing in 1998, they put together a group under Al Snow, using an old gimmick of his from ECW. All the losers banded together and called themselves “The JOB Squad.” They had Al, Scorpio, Gillberg, and me as the guys who never won but were now in a group that was somehow supposed to make us look better on TV. It doesn’t make sense on paper but I liked it anyway. It was my only real interaction with Vince Russo, the head writer for the WWF at the time. A lot of people criticize him and say he ruined the business, but I thought he was okay. I was just disappointed that he never really followed through with things; he’d have a great idea one week, take it somewhere the next week, and then forget about it and go in another direction. You can’t do that on episodic TV. You can’t change the storyline for a soap character every three weeks, you’ve got to see them through or the viewers will lose interest and not buy into anybody. That’s what Russo never understood.

  The gimmick was a little confusing. We were meant to be this group of losers who did the job for everybody, but then we started to win matches and get over. After a month or so, Russo told us we were going to have a big night on RAW in November, and sure enough, we were all over the show. We went out and helped Mankind (not one of our group but also cast as a loveable loser) win his match against the Boss Man and Shamrock, who were part of Vince McMahon’s main event heel group. Gillberg won the WWF Light Heavyweight Title and Scorpio and I beat the New Age Outlaws, who were the tag champions, in a non-title match. That show made it look like The JOB Squad was going to be featured in a solid mid-card capacity.

  But, just like everything else, it went absolutely nowhere. It was like nothing had ever happened. To say I was frustrated is an understatement. As 1998 turned into 1999, they stopped using Gillberg, Scorpio got released, and things were looking bad for both me and Al.

  The popularity of the hardcore wrestling style in ECW had led to the WWF creating its own hardcore title, which had just been vacated. They decided to use Al in the division, maybe because of his ECW connection. Because his gimmick was that he was crazy, they sent him out on TV to have a hardcore match with himself. It was ridiculous. He was smashing himself over the head with weapons, throwing himself into the barriers

  . . . they sent me out to calm him down and then, when he took offense to that, we got into a fight. This was going to lead to a match between us at the next pay-per-view, St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, for the vacant Hardcore Championship. I didn’t think anything other than I was there as a body to put Al over, but I was happy to hear I would get to be on a PPV and hopefully get a decent payday out of it.

  I didn’t know it at the time, but this was the birth of Hardcore Holly.

  PART 6: STAYING SANE ON THE ROAD

  It can be pretty hard to keep sane on the road, so you’ve got to have some fun. Billy Gunn and I rode together a lot. When he rode with other people, he usually drove but for whatever reason, he was comfortable with me driving. That was until I had a little joke at his expense . . .

  On this particular journey, he’d been asleep most of the trip. We were approaching the arena and he was still asleep. There was a train-crossing right near the arena, so I stopped the car right on the track, waited until a train was coming, and woke him up. Billy looked up, saw the train coming, and just about shit his pants. I had my hand on the emergency brake and wasn’t letting go — he was yanking on my arm, yelling and screaming, “You’re going to kill us, motherfucker!” But I didn’t let go until that train was about 20 yards from us. I stabbed the gas and pulled in to the arena parking lot. Turns out some of the security team had seen what I’d done and were laughing their asses off. I was laughing like a crazy man myself. Billy didn’t see the funny side. He drove for a while after that . . .

  JBL liked to fuck with people too. One time, he pulled up beside me at a stop light and I knew something was up. At the next stop light, I was looking at a map when John pulled up behind me and rammed my car right through the stop light into the middle of the intersection. Cars were speeding through but John kept on pushing. I took off pretty quickly. Steve Blackman was in the car with me and he was pissed. I thought it was funny but wanted to get back at Bradshaw so, after he got ahead of us, I did 95 down the highway and hit his back bumper. After that, John stopped fucking with me because he knew I’d retaliate.

  Steve did not like that sort of thing at all but we were good traveling partners. We h
ad the same schedule — wake up early, eat, work out, and go to the show. We didn’t like staying in expensive hotels. It’s very important to be on the same page when it comes to where you want to eat and stay when you’re traveling partners. I traveled with Sid, Billy Gunn, Scotty 2 Hotty, Kane . . . all great guys. But Steve was the most fun to fuck with. He could never stay mad at me. I can run faster than him anyway, and he can’t kill what he can’t catch.

  As I said before, Steve is probably the most dangerous man on the planet. If you piss him off, you might just end up going missing. Somehow, though, I got away with it. When we rode together, I would drive and scare him on purpose. One time, we were heading to Chicago late at night in pouring rain. As we were crossing the Illinois state line, we came up on three semi trucks. It was hard to see because of the spray but I was fixing to pass them anyway. Steve looked at me and there was definitely fear in his eyes. He asked, “How can you see when I can’t see?” I told him, “I can see fine on this side.” The closer I got to the semis, the more worked up he got. It was a four-lane highway and I sped right between two of those trucks. Steve was scared to death. After we got past them, he said, “I couldn’t see a damn thing.” Then I told him I couldn’t either. He was hot — I just laughed at him and said, “What, are you going to hit me? I’ll wreck the car and we’ll both die right here.”

  Steve got really mad at some other people though. At Kansas City airport, Steve and I were waiting around when Bradshaw came over. It was an early morning flight and John was still drunk from the night before. He started patting Steve’s ass. Steve said, “John, I don’t play that shit, knock it off.” John patted him again. And again. Steve was getting brutally pissed. He told him, “John, next time you do that, I’m going to knock your fucking teeth out.” So, of course, John did it again. Steve whipped around and backhanded Bradshaw, popping him with jabs in the face. John started swinging and missing, and his head was snapping back with each of Steve’s jabs. Steve stepped back, planning to kick Bradshaw’s knees out, but he got his leg caught in a bag handle. Al Snow and I grabbed Steve, Ron Simmons grabbed John, and we pulled them apart. John was walking back and forth like a bandy rooster, looking to fight. Before we left, Steve told him, “I’m going to fucking kill you.” He meant it too.

  We got our car and got on the road. Ken Shamrock was riding with us. Me, Blackman, and Shamrock. That’s a dangerous car, and I’m the warm one — a teddy bear compared to the other two. That whole journey, Shamrock was poking and prodding Steve, telling him that Bradshaw was going to beat his ass. Steve wasn’t saying a word. And who did we see when we checked in to the hotel? Bradshaw and Ron were right there. The boys don’t always stay at the same hotels, so it was a complete coincidence and not a good one for John. He came over to apologize and Steve said, “No apologies, I’m going to finish you later,” then walked off. We found him in the gym, still boiling mad. Once we were in the arena and had sat down in catering, John walked in. Everybody went silent as Steve stood up. He said, “If you’ve got something to say to me, you say it now or I’m going to finish you in front of everybody.” Bradshaw walked over, apologized, said “I shouldn’t have fucked with you,” and shook his hand. That was the end of it. Steve sat down and said, “Bob, if it wasn’t for that bag, John would be in intensive care right now.” Trust me, I believe it — if anybody can put Bradshaw in the hospital with one kick, it’s Steve Blackman.

  CHAPTER 18

  GETTING SOME ATTITUDE

  By the time I stepped into the ring with Al Snow at the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre in February 1999, the WWF was on top again. WCW hadn’t managed to keep up and we were red hot. “WWF Attitude” had caught on, especially with 18- to 30-year-old males, and we were cool. The cartoon days were long gone and the WWF was now playing to an older audience — and it was more popular than ever. We had The Rock, the Undertaker, and Mankind, and they were all over huge. Steve Austin was the hottest thing going, running around, giving everyone the finger, telling them to go to hell, and beating up the boss all the time. Hunter — now as Triple H — was the leader of a group called D-Generation X who acted like their name suggests, getting women in the audience to flash their tits. It was risqué programming for sure, but I had no problem with what we were doing. We pushed the envelope, got away with it, and sold tickets.

  There were still kids being brought to the arena and watching at home but RAW didn’t show anything worse than what you would see in video games and on TV. I actually thought our stuff was tame compared to some of the other things around at that time. Anyway, to my mind, parents should know what their kids are watching, but in the late ’90s, TV and the internet were opening up a new world. Kids could get on the computer and see all kinds of sex-related stuff and the parents had no idea what they were doing. It took a while for the adults to catch up and realize what their kids had access to, and that’s because they weren’t paying attention. If the parents don’t have the time to care about what their kids are watching, that’s on them, not on us. It’s a damn shame when you see parents who are happy when their kids are watching TV or on the computer because that keeps them busy and the parents don’t have to do their job. Kids should be outside playing.

  Battling Al Snow. (photo by George Napolitano)

  The bottom line is that we put a product out there and didn’t try to make it out to be something it wasn’t. We were just one of many things of the sort that kids had access to so it’s not like we were the only business making money off risqué TV. It was everywhere back then.

  An example of the sort of thing management was putting on TV is the match between Val Venis and me. We each represented a woman and every time we got thrown out of the ring, the women had to take some clothes off. It ended up with me winning and Val’s woman, B.B., taking off her bra. Hunter got in the way, though, so the audience didn’t see anything. That’s pretty tame in comparison to the other stuff you get on TV and on the internet, if you ask me.

  Anyway, in 1999 we did a show in Tennessee, in which I was going to wrestle Al for the Hardcore title. I expected to give him a good match, put him over, take my check, and go to the back of the line, but when I got there they told me I was going over and winning the title. I was surprised to say the least. I got to talking with Vince about my name. After the Midnight Express, I’d thankfully dropped the “Bombastic” tag and was back to being plain Bob Holly. Vince said I needed something else. The seed that had been planted in the Brawl for All about me being tough had come through and now they thought I would be a good fit for the hardcore division, so Vince said that if I was going to be hardcore, I’d better be called “Hardcore” Holly. I was more than happy with that.

  Al and I did our match, which ended up being a good brawl all over the arena, outside the arena, and even into the Mississippi River. It was wild and it helped get me over. People were surprised when I won but they went with it. I started wrestling Al on TV and house shows all the time, doing the hardcore matches with him. I thought they were fun. We’d mix it up and use all sorts of weapons in the matches to keep it fresh, but we’d limit what we used. You’d see other guys doing hardcore matches and loading the ring up with too many things, and it ended up being meaningless. We preferred to use two or three weapons per match and actually build a story around them. It made more sense that way and was still a wrestling match, not just two guys hitting each other with anything they could get their hands on. There’s no skill in that. Just because it was a hardcore match, that’s no reason for people to forget it was a wrestling show. The matches should have remained fundamentally wrestling.

  I also got to do some hardcore matches with Brian James, the Road Dogg, who had managed to get away from Jeff Jarrett and become popular as part of the New Age Outlaws, a team with Billy Gunn, that joined D-Generation X. We were building up to a three-way match for the Hardcore title at WrestleMania with me, him, and Al. Then Billy screwed up and the plans changed. Billy was
supposed to win the Intercontinental title from Ken Shamrock at the Royal Rumble but the night before, when he was drunk, he told everybody who would listen that he was going to win the title the next night, and then turned up to the arena with a massive hangover. Obviously, they kept the belt on Shamrock. Vince Russo then went and started switching everything around for God knows what reason and it ended up with the Road Dogg going into WrestleMania as the IC Champion and Billy going in with the Hardcore title. Billy wasn’t happy doing the hardcore stuff; he felt like a fish out of water. I was just happy to be part of a featured match at WrestleMania at last. I opened the show at WrestleMania XV and won the three-way with Billy and Al. It was a good match that got the crowd going. I appreciated being given the Hardcore title at WrestleMania — I felt appreciated in my role in the company for probably the first time ever. I appreciated the paycheck too — I made $20,000 for that match. That was the biggest payoff of my career. I can’t imagine what Austin and The Rock got paid for headlining that show . . .

  The next few months carried on in much the same way — I worked the hardcore matches and I started to get over well with the crowd. They started reacting to me in a way they never had before. That’s because my character finally felt right. It worked because I was comfortable. I was comfortable because Hardcore Holly was me, through and through.