So that's why on May 19, 2003, at fifty-four years old, I was standing in the center of a ring in Greenville, South Carolina, in boots and trunks, crying like a little boy. Hell, I began to wonder if I even had a legacy at all. When I came to World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE) in late 2001 after spending most of my career representing the competition, I didn't know if the wrestlers liked or respected me, or knew about my legacy. I felt myself losing the Ric Flair strut and, in many ways, my joy for life. These weren't things I heard once or twice it went on for years.
While fans were saying that I could have a five-star match with anyone at any time, behind the scenes I'd be called an old piece of shit that didn't understand the public, couldn't read ratings, and deserved to be bankrupted along with my family. For every legitimate punch I've ever taken to the head, every bone I've ever dislocated or every chair that's been bent across my spine, nothing can be as ruthless as the political sabotage inside the dressing room or promoter's office. It's what lurks outside of it that scares me. There is no off-season in our business, and we're the toughest athletes alive. We are a special breed who can withstand pain, exhaustion, and injury without ever coming up for air. Because - despite what outsiders may think - we are not ninjas or warriors.
WWE WRESTLING ULTIMATE WORD SEARCH MOMMIE DEAREST PROFESSIONAL
When you have no equal in professional wrestling, you have no equal in the sports world. I've spent more than thirty years of my life - some days good, some bad-trying to prove to myself, to my peers, and to the fans who paid anywhere from five to five hundred dollars that I could be the best at what I chose to do for a living. Ric Flair went on the road and wrestled every single day - twice on Saturday, twice on Sunday, every birthday, every holiday, every anniversary - for twenty straight years. Ric Flair can call himself a sixteen-time world champion. Better than Frank Gotch or Lou Thesz, Bruno Sammartino or Verne Gagne, Gorgeous George or Hulk Hogan. That's before I let my self-esteem depend on people with power in the wrestling business.įor the last fifteen years or so, I've been told that I'm the greatest professional wrestler who ever lived. But that was a long time ago, before I left Minnesota for Charlotte, bleached my brown hair blond, and became "Nature Boy" Ric Flair. To Be the Man traces the rise of one of wrestling's most enduring superstars to the pinnacle of the sports entertainment universe, and is a must-read for every wrestling fan. Slaughter, David Crockett, Arn Anderson, Bobby "The Brain" Heenan, "Mean" Gene Okerlund, Shawn Michaels, Triple H, Undertaker and Brock Lesnar.
In addition to his own words, Flair's story is enriched by anecdotes from ring greats like Superstar Billy Graham, Ricky "The Dragon" Steamboat, Harley Race, Sgt. Ric Flair: To Be the Man, cowritten with Keith Elliot Greenberg, chronicles the anguish and exhilaration of Flair's life and career-in painfully honest detail. He suffered periods of crushing self-doubt, marital strife and-in a profession where there was room for only one Ric Flair-broken friendships. Flair's opponents were challenged with this simple taunt: "To be the man, you have to beat the man."Īway from the arena, Richard Morgan Fliehr spent years struggling with his own concept of what it meant to be a man. When the camera light went on, "Slick Ric" could convince viewers that, if they missed an upcoming match, a momentous life experience would pass them by. No matter how limited the opponent, Flair had the skill and determination to bounce all over the mat, transforming his rival into a star. To wrestling fans, the Nature Boy is a platinum-blond deity, a sixteen-time world champion who accurately boasted that he could have a five-star match with a broom. Throughout the years, there may have been equally charismatic performers, comparable athletes, and even better interviews, but none were blessed with the same combination of talents to manage to stay on top for over three decades.
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