From that point forward, Mike really did become a much more lovable guy and, even more so, a dependable Road Warrior. We got back into action doing some independent stuff here and there, even doing a couple of shots at the end of the year into 2003 with Dusty Rhodes working for Jerry and Jeff Jarrett’s new NWA/ TNA (Total Nonstop Action) Wrestling out of Nashville.
Hawk and I felt we were truly climbing back on top of our game together in the ring. Our timing was right on, and the fans were making us feel like old friends. Things were really starting to look up, and then they crashed right back down again.
The phone rang. Another wrestling death. This time it was Curt Hennig. Picking up the phone those days was really starting to become a risky proposition.
I don’t want to start sounding cliché, but the sad reality of the situation is that Curt was found dead in his Florida hotel room on February 10 due to a combination of cocaine and Somas. That was the deadly game some guys used to play. They’d stay up all night doing certain substances only to take a bunch of something else to bring them down.
After years and years of spinning the wheel of chance, my buddy Curt, the fantastic Mr. Perfect, one of the most talented workers wrestling this side of Ric Flair, bottomed out at forty-four years old, leaving behind a wife and four children. One of his children, Joe, is now in the wrestling business himself.
After coming into TNA for those couple of tune-up matches and helping draw interest and ratings for the promotion, Hawk and I started to wonder if we might try one last go with the WWF, now known as WWE (World Wrestling Entertainment) due to a name conflict with the World Wildlife Fund. After putting feelers out to WWE, we got a call in May from my brother John, who worked for Vince since WCW was bought out.
“Joe, I’ve got some great news,” he said. “Vince needs some prospective teams to feud with Kane and Rob Van Dam (RVD) for the tag titles. He wants you to have a couple of tryout matches on Raw and SmackDown.”
Hawk was beside himself with excitement. It was an opportunity he had waited for to redeem himself. “You watch, Animal. I’m going to do the right thing and go right in there and shake hands with Vince. I’ll tell him we want to come in and do some good business for the company. Hell, I’ll do the job personally to those guys.”
Ever since we’d bombed out of the WWF the second time in ’98 and had to sit out a year, Hawk found every reason in the book to push the blame entirely onto Vince. He kept a black hole of negativity and bitterness centered right in his gut. When he and Shawn became born again at the AIMC, Mike was finally able to see that everything in life is a two-way street and there needs to be compromise to make things work.
The Road Warriors showed up for work on May 12 at the First Union Center in my old hometown of Philadelphia. That night, when our classic WWF entrance theme sounded over the PA, the Road Warrior pop was alive and well. The crowd gave us a standing ovation and were chanting, “LOD, LOD.” It felt as if we’d never left.
When we hit the ring and started the match, Jerry Lawler turned to Jim Ross and said, “You can call them the Legion of Doom, but they’re more like the Legends of Doom.”
Coming from “The King,” that compliment was as good as gold.
The rest of the match was pretty much a test from Vince to see how much we could sell for Kane and RVD, although I did get a nice powerbomb on Rob near the end. When it was time to take it home, RVD ducked Hawk’s Doomsday Device clothesline, setting up his Five-Star Frog Splash finisher. After getting pinned for the three-count, Hawk didn’t really stay down too long, and it came off as if he half no-sold RVD’s splash. Take it from me, after coming in and offering to do the job for Vince personally, Mike didn’t intentionally pull the roof down over his own head.
A couple days later at the SmackDown taping in Baltimore, I noticed our scheduled TV match was switched to a dark match18 with no explanation. In about four minutes, we destroyed a much younger CM Punk and some other jobber with the Doomsday Device to the deafening pleasure of the fans. I remember right after the show, one of the guys from the road crew came up and told me our pops were so big that Vince’s backstage promos kept getting interrupted.
“What in the world is all that commotion out there? It’s ruining my interviews,” he’d said.
He was told it was the LOD.
After the show, we were told we’d get a call. The phone never rang.
At first I thought, Maybe Vince thought we disrespected him because of Hawk’s unintentional no-sell. Or maybe Vince thought we were too old and didn’t fit in with his new WWE. Didn’t he see the way the people reacted to us?
The truth is, we wrestled a solid match, and if Vince truly had any intention of shaking up his tag team division, he should have had us win the belts right then and there on Raw. None of it really mattered anyway. It was over. Hawk and I had wrestled together in a WWE ring for the last time together. Mike was crushed.
After this disappointment, we did a couple of independent shows, including one with Paul Ellering for our twentieth anniversary together on June 7, 1983. “Precious” Paul even bleached his hair and goatee and pulled out one of his vintage blue suits for the occasion. I’m happy the three of us got to share that last moment together.
On October 19, 2003, the phone rang late in the day. I had a sinking feeling.
“Hey, Joe, did you hear?”
Hear? Hear what? “No. Why? What’s up?”
“You mean nobody told you?” the voice replied.
Now I was getting annoyed. “Man, what are you talking about?”
“Mike died last night, Joe.”
I heard the caller say it, but I really didn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. Nobody had thought to call me all day. My thoughts were racing, and it was all a blur. I finally snapped out of it and called Dale. She said Mike had been moving boxes the previous day into their new condo in Indian Rocks Beach, Florida. After he’d made his last trip, everything was fine and they went to bed. Mike never woke up. He died of heart failure in his sleep.
My eyes started welling up when I got off the phone. I told Julie and James and Jessica the news, and we hugged and prayed. After forty-six years of hundred-mile-per-hour living, including twenty years of being the most imposing and comedic character in professional wrestling, Michael Hegstrand, my partner and dear brother, moved on to the next life. The mighty Hawk had made his last flight.
Mike’s body wound up being cremated and there were actually two funerals, one in Florida and one in Minnesota. Kenski even flew all the way from Tokyo and spoke at the service in Minnesota. In a very emotional speech through a translator, Kenski thanked Mike for being an honorable friend who’d unselfishly helped him become an established name in the business eleven years earlier. It was nothing but the highest respect.
The very next night on Raw, the show started off with a graphic of Mike along with the announcement by Jim Ross and Jerry Lawler of his passing. I’ll never forget the first match of the show when WWE Tag Team champions Bubba Ray and Devon, the Dudley Boyz, came out to face La Résistance (Rene Dupree and Rob Conway) with black armbands imprinted with Hawk.
In one of the greatest tributes Bubba Ray and D-Von could have paid Mike, they won the match with the Doomsday Device and celebrated their win by pointing to their armbands and then to the sky. Somewhere, Hawk was looking down and smiling. I know it.
You know, I think of Mike all the time and remember how he kept pushing everything to the edge. All of his death-defying antics and close calls were just part of his method of operation. Whether Hawk was at a bar, in a ring, or on the road, he pushed his life to the extremes in front of anyone who became an audience until he’d finally pushed everything completely over the cliff into oblivion.
It’s like I remember him saying to Paul and me one day while the three of us were driving to a show in the early Georgia Championship Wrestling days: “Hey, this is what I want you guys to put on my tombstone. ‘Here lies Hawk. He did everything, and everything did
him in.’”
20
THE LAURINAITIS LEGACY
After Mike died, I continued by myself for the next couple of years. My itinerary became filled with autograph appearances and mixed tag matches with an assortment of local guys from each hometown I entered. It was extremely odd for a while not to have Hawk by my side and to have people everywhere kind of pat me on the back and offer their condolences.
That whole period of time was a mourning process not only for me but for the many fans of the Road Warriors who’d lost a little piece of their childhood, or any special time during their lives, because one of their heroes was gone.
It still didn’t seem quite real to me. I kept half expecting to turn around and see Hawk in full paint and spikes come storming up to me as “Iron Man” blasted. Well, are we gonna go out there and bust a few heads or stand around here like a couple of confused clam heads? Man, I could hear him clear as day. Still can.
In the spring of 2005, the WWE wanted to do a DVD anthology of Hawk’s and my career called Road Warriors: The Life and Death of the World’s Greatest Tag-Team in Wrestling History. For a couple of the matches, I was flown up to Stamford to record modern-day commentary along with Jim Ross. It was a great time getting a chance to call some of the Road Warriors’ greatest moments.
Being honored with our own anthology was like coming full circle. It took me back through my entire career and brought up feelings and memories I thought were buried with my partner. I decided to use my new good graces with the WWE to secure an agent position, but Stephanie McMahon, who was all grown up now and a powerful part of the company, suggested something different.
“Joe,” she said, “we want you to consider resurrecting the Legion of Doom with another partner we have for you.”
It was a terrible idea. I hated it. I should have said no.
I said yes.
By dangling the proverbial carrot of an agent’s position with World Wrestling Entertainment in front of my face, Vince and Stephanie led me right into a regrettable situation. They quickly paired me up with John Heidenreich, a six feet five, 300-pound German who was struggling as a singles performer.
Like so many times before, from the Hell Raisers with Kenski to the LOD 2000 with Droz, it was another try at establishing someone who needed a boost by strapping on a pair of shoulder pads and putting on the paint. In a word, the whole thing completely sucked. Everything was way off and worse than I expected, except for one thing: the people.
Right before my very first reappearance on SmackDown on July 14, Vince came up to me with a funny smirk and a classic old question he’d asked me many times over the years. “Are we going to hear a Road Warrior pop tonight out there, Joe?”
I laughed. “Well, you know. We’ll see what happens, Vince.”
When I walked out, it was like every other time I’d had in the WWF/E. The people jumped right out of their seats and saluted me with an ovation that made me think of Hawk and how he should’ve been there with me.
No matter how things ever went in my career, from the highest moments in the AWA, NWA, Japan, and the old WWF, the fans stayed with me like old friends. I will always love and respect them for that.
You know, everyone from the office guys to other wrestlers to bloggers can say whatever they want, good or bad, but in the end they all know exactly where Road Warrior Hawk and Road Warrior Animal sit in the grand scheme of professional wrestling tag teams: at the very top of the mountain. I’ll take that with me wherever I go for the rest of my life.
As I mentioned, the WWE’s attempt at bringing me back for an LOD reboot should’ve died during the idea stage. Here’s why: the only thing slightly reminiscent of the old team was my new partner’s unpredictable personality. John meant well, but due to a certain lifestyle we were all way too familiar with, it was always uncertain which Heidenreich would show up to work, if at all. Within a few months, he was released from the company.
From there I was paired up with Matt Hardy and, God bless him, he was a good businessman and a great team player who had the kind of work ethic that reminded me of me. I remembered working with him way back in ’98 when he and his brother, Jeff, were starting out in the WWF. When it came to working with Matt, we got along great, did the best we could, and probably both felt like we were in the wrong situation. It too quickly came to an end, and we parted ways, but Matt Hardy has nothing but my well-earned respect.
By the very dismal end of it all, they made me take the paint off and actually had me reprise my original Road Warrior gimmick from the Georgia days. I even had the jean shorts, chaps, and leather vest.
When I looked in the mirror I almost passed out. What have I gone and done?
Somewhere Hawk was laughing.
It didn’t last long, and I thanked the Lord when they finally released me. And guess what? No agent position. No nothing. And you know what? It’s their loss.
If Vince ever wakes up one day and realizes he could have a gold mine of a tag team division like wrestling used to have, I know he’ll think of me and pick up the phone or have my brother do it.
You see, when I was released, Vince made sure to have my brother John, who was now head of talent relations, call and do the honors of firing me. Nice touch. How ironic is it that once upon a time I did everything in my power to get my baby bro into the wrestling business only to have him announce the end of my career years later? (It’s like something out of a book or something.)
With my wrestling career officially and finally retired into memories that fade more and more by the day, I could finally concentrate on the most important years for my family: the current ones.
After finishing up boot camp and being stationed in Bamberg, Germany, with the National Guard, Joey had been in the middle of seeing the world when the events of 9-11 compelled him to go over to Iraq. He had been on one of the very first missions to search for weapons of mass destruction.
A family goes through so much when they have a child involved in a war. Julie, James, Jessica, and I were always glued to the TV and waiting for any word from our hero. After serving several years in the Middle East conflict, my son finally came home safely.
Back home, Joey decided to go into the police academy in Dayton, Ohio. He’s now an officer in the area and, along with his beautiful wife, Andrea, gave his old man a precious little granddaughter named Claire. It’s official. I’m now Grandfather Animal.
James, of course, became an amazing high school football player as a linebacker and got a full ride to Ohio State University (OSU) in 2001. He was the first player from Minnesota since legendary NFL coach Sid Gillman in 1930 to receive a full scholarship to become a Buckeye. While at OSU, James did the Laurinaitis name proud, as always, by becoming a three-time Associated Press First-Team All-American and winning several prestigious awards, such as the 2006 Bronko Nagurski Trophy, the 2007 Dick Butkus Award, and the 2008 Lott Trophy.
In 2009 James was drafted to the St. Louis Rams as a linebacker and was honored with the Carroll Rosenbloom Memorial Award, given out each year to the team rookie of the year. And through it all, James is still the down-to-earth, bighearted Christian he was when he held my hand as a thirteen-year-old boy at the Living Word.
Jessica exploded with athletic talent in high school. In softball, she was a two-year all-state first team player. During her senior year, she didn’t commit a single error at shortstop and led the softball team in batting average two years straight.
Not only that, but Jessica, not to be outdone by James, stepped onto the football field for her high school’s annual all-girls powder-puff games. In her junior year, she came running at an angle at this one girl and hit her like Ray Lewis, separating her shoulder. The next year, she did the exact same thing to another girl, only this time she actually stepped on her opponent’s chest as she walked away. When it comes to Jessica, Joey and James will be the first to tell you, she’s an absolute stud.
It was in ice hockey, though, that Jessica really found her calling. Ov
erall, her high school career at Wayzata looked like this: four years varsity, all-conference honorable mention her freshman and sophomore years, captain her senior year, and all-state first team her junior and senior years. Get the picture? As of this writing, Jessica is now in her freshman year at St. Olaf College, where she’s going to continue challenging herself on the rink and in her academics. Don’t be surprised if you see Jessica make a big name for herself as an interior designer in the near future as well.
With all of our babies out of the house now, Julie and I are excited to see what the future holds for our amazing Laurinaitis family. At the end of the day, when Julie and I lie down together at night, we always talk about how blessed our time together so far has been. We have our health. We have each other. We have three beautiful children and a sweet little granddaughter to make the holidays at our house a PPV-quality event. And it’s for all of those reasons and much, much more that I thank the Lord Jesus Christ.
As far as the Road Warriors legacy goes? Well, simply put, when I think back over the twenty years that Hawk and I were together, I’m proud of what we accomplished. When we came in, we were big, tough kids with attitudes, but people recognized the raw talent we had. People like Eddie Sharkey, Ole Anderson, and Giant Baba gave us golden opportunities that, with the guidance of Paul Ellering, we ran with all the way to the bank.
I’ve said it before, but it has to be said one more time. When Mike and I were coming up, no one with so little time in the ring was given that kind of push. We were absolutely blessed to have been given the seeds of an amazing gimmick that would take us around the world ten times over.
Today I’m convinced that if Hawk and I were just now breaking into the business as the Road Warriors, the result would be exactly the same. We would become the greatest tag team in professional wrestling history.
AFTERWORD
THE IT FACTOR
The Road Warriors: Danger, Death, and the Rush of Wrestling Page 31