Real American Hero

"Did you ever know that you're my hero?" You're everything I wish I could be."

Big brothers are meant to be looked up to. As a kid growing up, you want to be just like them. It's natural order. You need look no further than to watch two young siblings interact. I see it with my grandchildren Jamison and his sister Addie, and Bryant and his sister Brookelynn. The looks in Addie and Brookelynn's eyes as they follow their older brothers around and mimic their every move are priceless. In their innocent age, their big brothers are their heroes. As they grow, they will continue to learn and look up to their brothers.

Time has a funny way of separating bonds. Sometimes it creates wedges that egos and pride won't let you restore. If they are lucky, there will be no wedge to drive them apart. However, there are bound to be some riffs that cause division along the way. Sibling rivalry, jealousy, etc. It's part of growing up. It happens to us all. One thing is certain, though. No matter how mad the sisters become at their brothers, they will always seek their brothers' approval in nearly everything they do. They'll never admit it, and may not even realize that they are seeking it, but they have sought it since day one.

I remember "tagging along" with my brother, Bruce. My mom would make him take me along with his friends when they went riding on their bicycles in the neighborhood. He would always try and convince me to find my friends and go play with them. There were times that he would tell me to wait for him downstairs or outside, while he disappeared from another window or door from the house. He "ditched" me quite often. Not that I blame him, a group of six grade friends probably didn't want or need a kindergarten kid hanging around. I never grew wise. Sometimes, he'd tell me that we would play a quick game of hide and seek before catching up with his friends. Of course, he'd be long gone by the time I opened my eyes after counting to ten.

Although he wouldn't let me "tag along" with his friends, he still took care of his little brother. Whether it was ice skating on a frozen Indiana pond, building bicycle ramps to emulate Evel Knievel, or catching crawdads, he included me in enough adventures that I didn't despair too long when he lost me in lieu of his friends. Instead, I went crawdad catching by myself. Once after falling in the pond, I quickly ran home and changed clothes before my mom could find out what happened. Instead of putting the wet clothes in the washing machine, I hung them up in the closet. Of course, my mom found the clothes and blamed Bruce for what happened since I was supposed to be with him.

He took care of his little brother in many ways. Once, there was a neighborhood kid a few years older than me who kept threatening and terrorizing me. Like typical bullies, he picked on younger kids because his behavior would never be tolerated among his own age group. When I told Bruce and my other brother, Larry, about it, they devised a plan. "Lure him into the yard," they told me. "When he steps in our yard, we'll take care of him." I didn't fully trust my brothers. I was the little brother, the baby of the bunch who always got his way. I thought they might be setting me up. I wasn't so sure that they'd "rescue" me.

After coaxing from both brothers, I set out to lure the bully to our house. He had threatened to beat me up the next time he saw me on the street, so I pedaled faster than Lance Armstrong back to the house when he spotted me. Like a hungry mouse who comes out in search of bits of cheese, he fell for the trap. I threw my bike down and ran in the door. Thinking I was home alone, the dumb bully beat at my door shouting threats. "He's outside!" I exclaimed to Bruce. "Is he in our yard?" Bruce asked. "He's at the door!" I screamed. "Go get Larry," Bruce instructed me as he headed to the door."

I ran upstairs to get my brother Larry. Evidently, he didn't think I would spring the trap as quickly as I did as he had started a shower. "He's here!" I shouted at the bathroom door. I heard the water shut off, and Larry stepped out of the bathroom shirtless with a towel around his shoulders. By the time we reached the yard, Bruce had the bully pinned to the grass and was throwing punches to his face. Soon, both of my brothers were beating the boy. In one of the funniest memories that I have, Bruce held the boy down while Larry snapped and popped the towel repeatedly to the boy's back. I'll never forget the cries of the bully as he promised to never bother me again. He never did, by the way. Not that I condone violence, but it was good to have a big brother or two that day.

After disposing of my bully, Bruce didn't have a problem with me "tagging along' any longer. In fact, he frequently invited me along for adventures with his friends. I probably got on his friends' nerves at times. As a matter of fact, I'm sure I did, but Bruce never acknowledged it.

Another of my fond memories are the trips to Opryland he invited me on with him and his friends during the summer of his junior and senior years of high school. Before my trips to Opryland with Bruce and the gang, my only previous trips had been with my parents. Not that I didn't appreciate the trips with my parents, but there was no comparison to the experience with Bruce. With my parents, we usually left the park before dark because they were tired and wanted to get home early. As sixth grade pre-teenage boy, I knew nothing about their concerns over the long trip from Nashville to Milan and wanting to get some rest before work the next day. I just thought they were old and didn't know how to have fun. On the contrary, we closed the park down with Bruce's friends. By 9 p.m., most families had gone home for the evening. This meant that there were no long lines like there were in the afternoon. We rode the Wabash Cannonball and Grizzly River Rampage over and over. We simply got off when the ride ended, and immediately got right back on. It was like an all you can eat buffet. We definitely got our money's worth that night.

As time passed, I spent less time with my brother. He began building a life, while I still had several years of childhood to finish. As a last resort to earn needed income for his family, he joined the United States Army. Although it was just a means to an end at the time, it became his passion and career. Like everything else he did in life, he engulfed himself 100% in his career. Not quite comprehending the magnitude of what he did at the time, I listened to stories of him eliminating terrorist attacks on American ships in the Persian Gulf as part of Operation Praying Mantis. "They were speed boats equipped with machine guns. Little boats attacking giant ships," he explained. "They weren't going to stop." I didn't understand the magnitude at the time, but he did. This was in 1988, long before 9/11 exposed how relentless terrorists can be.

In 1993, he was deployed to Somalia to support Task Force Ranger in response to Somalian attacks against the U.S. military during their presence of the Somalian state of chaos. Most have heard of the movie Blackhawk Down. Those were Bruce's helicopters. Without him, they didn't fly. He was asked by the producer of the movie if he thought it was an accurate portrayal of the events. "No," he replied. When asked what he meant, he replied, "It shouldn't have ended that way. We didn't finish the mission." When explaining this to me as he explained the significance of the plaque the movie producers had given him, he asked me, "Who was that dimwit that was in office then?" Bruce was conservative to the core. He was proud of his service. He told me of how Michael Durant, the soldier held hostage during the Battle of Mogadishu, began reporting to him after their return to Fort Campbell. Once again, I had no idea. The plaque had been in his house for years, but I was just then realizing the significance and what it meant to him.

After retiring from the Army, he expressed his interest in teaching. He told me about wanting to teach gym. It made perfect sense. He had worked with kids across the country coaching them hockey and soccer. Although he was unable to garner a job within the public school system, he was offered a job instructing electronics at Tennessee College of Applied Technology. He taught electronics there for a couple of years until cutbacks eliminated his position. Within a few months, he had been invited back to TCAT to instruct a new program, Green Technology. This was new to the area and Bruce. Nevertheless, he immersed himself in the subject. He learned as much about the technology as possible.

He had told me that it was an experimental program and that its continuation would depend on the amount of funds received for it. It was not just his job to instruct Green Technology, but to ensure that it was successful to receive continuing funds. Like everything else he did, he immersed himself 100% in the success of the class and its students. For a former motor and gearhead, his new passion and favorite color was green. He and his class installed solar panels at residences and businesses across West Tennessee and surrounding areas. He explained to me how this was a win-win. It gave the students experience and expanded community knowledge of the technology. He installed solar panels at his house, Temple Baptist Church, Milan Christian Academy, and several homes of friends and members of his church. He fully believed in the program and the success of his students.

Somewhere along the line, he became aware of the effects of electrolysis and its interaction with fuel mixture. I do not fully understand the process, so I cannot accurately describe it. He began building hydrogen generators from glass jars. At the time, gas was nearly $4 a gallon. As he explained the increase in gas mileage that a hydrogen generator could create, interest within the community grew. Before long, there was enough interest to begin a class on weekends at TCAT on Saturdays. He created an online forum where students and enthusiasts could interact and ask questions. The class was so successful that he asked me to sit in on one in case I wanted to teach the subject. I was amazed at the knowledge that he passed on in the class. I along with most people didn’t even know the concepts he presented were possible. I enjoyed the class and bagged about what he was doing to anyone that would listen, but the process was above my mechanical and electronic limitations. I appreciated his faith in me, but I had no business attempting to teach the class. Soon, gas prices receded slightly and interest in the class waned. His generator, though, is still on his truck today.

Bruce did many other things in the area that he poured 100% of his heart and energy into as well. While managing a local store, he brought it out of the dark ages and began marketing it via radio and television. Since he left the store, I have not seen nor heard of any advertisements for it. Someone could write several books pertaining to all of his accomplishments. Perhaps, they will one day be written.

Any memory of Bruce cannot be written or spoken without mentioning his dedication to God. Once again, he invested 100%. My dad and I used to speak of how Bruce was never home. If he wasn't working, he was busy with scouts, soccer, or busy with his bus ministry. Sometimes I wondered if he was the true inspiration for Michael Keaton's movie, Multiplicity. If anyone ever tells you that they don't have time for something, they are lying. If not to you intentionally, they are lying to themselves. Bruce was the embodiment of time management. He did all of the aforementioned, yet still woke up every day at 4 a.m. and ran 5 miles. With everything that he did, he did it to please God. It's hard not to be sad in his death, but I fully believe he fulfilled his purpose.

Like Addie and Brookelynn, I looked up to and sought approval from my big brother. Upon reflection, I unknowingly patterned everything I did after what my big brother did. Even when I bought my house, I compared it to his. However, Bruce is too big to be simply my hero alone. He touched countless lives and is a hero to many. I am but one of many in a long line of admirers, but he was everthing that I want to be.

Customer First

Customer first. The customer is always right. How often have we heard slogans like these or similar catchphrases? They sure sound good. They inspire our confidence in a company. They make us want to believe that a company cares for us and our needs. But, do they really care, or are they only concerned with the money that we provide that ultimately fuels their companies?

When we think of customer service, most of us think of the debacle of communicating our problems with a product to an outsourced agent across the ocean. This person is either reading from a manual or from a computer in their bedroom somewhere that provides answers to frequently asked questions. “Try unplugging it, waiting a minute, and then plugging it back in,” the customer service person frequently suggests for multiple product failure issues. “Really? Don’t you think I’ve tried that already?” is what I usually think to myself when I hear that suggestion. Nevertheless, I try it again anyway to no avail until I become frustrated and demand my money back. Of all the processes to outsource, was outsourcing customer service really a good idea?

In many situations, customer service is not outsourced, but it is simply lacking. This is typically the case with larger companies. Maybe there was a time when the company cared about you as an individual, but then they grew. You have lost your status as an individual and are now just a name in a database. No one knows who you are or that you exist except on that day of the month when the payment is due. Even then you are a faceless name.

Recently, I had two unique customer service experiences that serve as both the best and worst experiences I have ever had. Both, ironically, involve banks. Who would have guessed?

Last summer, I sold a car that I still owed about $3500 on. The woman who bought it was nice enough to meet me at Regions Bank where it was finance at. After giving me $4000, we walked into the bank to get the payoff information from the loan officer. I don’t remember his name, so we’ll call him Robert. Robert wrote the payoff amount down and directed me to the window. When I got to the window, the teller told me that the payoff amount was actually about $100 less than the amount Robert had given me. Great! That meant I had $100 more profit!

I paid the teller and inquired when the title would be sent to me. The teller informed me that it would be sent to me in 10 days. The woman had already insured the car and paid for it, so she drove it home. She had found the listing for my car on the web and had drove 3 hours to meet me at the bank. I told her that I would call her as soon as the title came in and we parted ways. Everything was great, right? Wrong!

After 10 days, I still hadn’t received the title. I called Regions to inquire where they connected me to their corporate office. A nice young operator informed me that she wasn’t sure why the title hadn’t been mailed to me, but she would make sure it got in the mail that day. Since I was the seller, I wanted to make sure that my customer didn’t think I was pulling any shenanigans, so I texted her and let her know of the current situation. She was very nice and we both were happy assuming that we would have the title in a few days.

A few weeks later while my wife and I were enjoying a nice vacation, the woman texted me inquiring about the title. I called my daughter at home to see if it had arrived, and started to worry when she told me it hadn’t. Even though we were on our way back home, I couldn’t wait to get home to call Regions, so I drove through the state of Alabama navigating through Regions’ automated line only to be placed on hold for 25 minutes when I finally got through.

After almost an hour on the phone, an operator informed me that there was a lien on the vehicle. “How can there be a lien on the vehicle? I paid it off!” I demanded to know. “There is a $94 early payoff fee,” the operator informed me. Suddenly, I had recollections of the two different figures that the teller and loan officer had given me. Now, I understood. Somebody messed up.

I paid the $94 over the phone and inquired about the title. The operator informed me that it was a mandatory standard that titles not be mailed out until 10 business days after a vehicle is paid off. Since I had just officially paid it off, it would be another 10-14 days until I received the title. There was no explaining to the corporate office that it wasn’t my fault. I paid what the teller told me to pay. We’ve already waited a month for the title. It didn’t matter. I was dealing with a corporate office. They had programmed answers. I was just a faceless name in a database.

Wanting to at least provide good service on my parts, I called the woman who bought the car and explained the scenario. She did not explode or become irate, but she did explain to me why she needed the title. She had bought the car for her daughter. School was staring back in less than two weeks, and her daughter really wanted to show it off to her friends. I can’t say that I blame her. It was a sharp car. As it was, she could only stare at. She couldn’t drive because she didn’t have any tags. She couldn’t get any tags because she didn’t have the title yet. “Isn’t there something you can do?” the woman asked. “I will sure try,” I promised.

I called Robert the next day. He didn’t remember at first, but then he pulled the transaction up on his database. He did explain that the reason for the different figure was because of a lack of communication between his computer and the teller’s computers. I was thinking that was a serious problem that they probably should get fixed, but I was only concerned about getting my problem fixed. Robert said that he would be in a conference all day, but he would look into it and get back to me the same day.

I had an intuition that I wouldn’t hear back from Robert. I decided to make a trip to Regions and talk to someone face to face. Robert was nowhere to be found. As it turned out, he didn’t even work at that branch, nor did the teller who gave me the payoff amount. Both worked in other Regions Bank offices and filled in on the weekend sporadically at this office. No one in the office had a clue about the transaction!

This is where the story becomes blurred as it takes a positive turn to one of the best customer service interactions I have had. After investigating briefly, the loan officer admitted that they had made a mistake. They also admitted that it would be hard to get the corporate office to change their mind and send the title. However, they promised to try. A few hours later, the branch was calling and emailing me. The title was sent via FedEx to me the next day. I will never forget the service I had from everyone in that branch that day. They went out of their way to fix the problem. I know it wasn’t easy convincing corporate to send the title, but the loan officer did. She put customer service first. I will forever remember the service that I received in that branch.

Ironically, Robert called me the next day. “I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner,” he said. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do. The corporate office is sticking to their mandatory standard of 10 days,” he informed me. Imagine his surprise when I informed him that it had already been taken care of. “Oh” was all I remember him saying.

Robert represents everything that is wrong with customer service. He wasn’t one to buck the system. He wasn’t going to go out of his way to help a customer. Why should he? The only thing important to him was advancing his career. He wasn’t going to let one disgruntled customer get in his way. He thought he could rely on his salesman –like bluff and tell me anything to make me happy, or at least go away. The man blatantly lied to me. He is lower than fungus that grows underneath cattle feces. I hope he succeeds and climbs the corporate ladder. I hope he receives the just rewards that eventually befall those that lie and manipulate others to get ahead. Karma.

Another experience happened recently that also began as a lemon, but eventually turned into sweet lemonade. I have been a customer of BancorpSouth’s for over 15 years. I began using their online banking system over 10 years ago to manage and pay my bills. I’ve only had one bad experience previously, but I was partly to blame on that. I had bought a vacation online and hit the “pay now” button instead of the “pay later” button. I intended to pay later as I was due a nice bonus that was scheduled to be deposited in a few days. From that mistake, I was charged over $500 in overdraft fees. I was receiving a substantial bonus, so the $500 in fees wasn’t a problem to recover, but it was $500 less to spend or save. I was virtually giving that money away. I called BancorpSouth and got a similar corporate response like I got from Regions. I realized it was a stupid mistake and it was my fault, but thought that they could surely help me out to some degree. I bit the corporate bullet and didn’t think too much more about it.

I’ll admit that I am guilty of living paycheck to paycheck sometimes. I make decent money, but I spend, spend, and spend. Therefore, I am exceedingly cautious about setting up my budget and online bill pay. I will often set up a bill to be paid on the date I know that funds will be deposited into my account. I am very weary of my weekly budget and plan bills accordingly.

When an overdraft charge for $108 recently arrived in my mailbox, I was stunned. How could I be overdraft? I’m a meticulous planner. Then again, I’m airheaded and forgetful as well. Maybe there was something I forgot. Maybe I had calculated something wrong. I logged into my online banking and there it was. A check that I had scheduled for the 11th was paid on the 10th. How could this be?

I quickly got on the phone and called customer service. A young, female operator answered my call. Although friendly and courteous, I could sense that she was new on the job. Unable to answer my question, she put me on hold to confer with a manager. After coming back live, she informed me that checks are sent to billers a few days before the date. Unfortunately, this biller had received the check and cashed it when they received it. I understood that. It made sense, although I had been practicing the same method of scheduling bills to the same billers for over 10 years and had never had this happen.

I accepted her explanation, but I felt that I was unjustly charged the overdraft fees. Maybe I was playing it too close with my scheduling. Then again, maybe the clerk or whomever sends the checks out sent it out too early. All I knew was that I wanted my $108 refunded. Apparently, that wasn’t going to happen. I was once again dealing with a CSA that knew nothing about be. She was probably reading from a script or had been prepped on how to deal with dissatisfied customers. I can sense these things by asking them questions that they can’t answer from a script or from their training. I was peeved. I would not take my anger out on her, however. She was just a lowly CSA on the corporate totem pole. She had a job to do and was doing it to her best abilities. She couldn’t help me. She didn’t even know who I was. To me, that is where the problem lies.

I wanted to stick it to BancorpSouth. I was guilty of not managing my bills sufficiently. Assuming there wasn’t a clerk who sent out the check too early, I messed up. I messed up. I can admit that. I shouldn’t have scheduled my bills so carelessly. However, should I be treated like a chronic bad check writer? Did I blatantly write a bad check? Heck no! I was a loyal customer who simply made a mistake. I wanted to get them back, but didn’t know how to take on a corporation. Then, it hit me. I’d do what everyone else does when they want to bad mouth someone, but can’t say it to their face. I went to Facebook.

Knowing that anything I posted would be removed quickly, I decided to spam their Facebook page. Unfortunately, none of my comments would post because I didn’t “like” their page. The last thing I wanted to do was “like” their page. Since leaving negative comments wouldn’t work, I decided to send them a message via Facebook messenger. Not that it would do any good, but at least someone would at least see it. In the message, I expressed how I felt and threatened to move to a local bank. Once again, I really didn’t think it would do any good, but I felt better. I also began making plans on switching banks.

To my surprise, I had a voicemail from BancorpSouth the next day. By the time I had listened to the voicemail, they had called me again. I’m not exactly sure what the man’s title was, but he began by apologizing for my experience with customer service. He advised me that I might want to start scheduling my bills a few days out to ensure funds are in the bank and assured me that the $108 had been refunded. When I logged into Facebook, I had a message inquiring whether or not the matter had been resolved to my satisfaction. A few days later, I received a letter via snail mail also apologizing for the inconvenience. To me, this is what customer service is all about. They listened to me, although I did follow unconventional channels. I am 100% satisfied with their customer service and would recommend them to anyone.

As companies have grown global, they tend to focus on stockholders in lieu of stakeholders. They have good reason to worry about satisfying their stockholders. Maximizing stockholder value makes the company money. The young executive typically isn’t concerned with an individual’s minor problems. Individuals are just cogs in the wheel that keeps the money train rolling. They lose sense of the fact that the individual customers are the one providing the coal to produce the steam for the engine. Customer first should be more than a catchphrase or slogan; it should be a manner of business. Whether anyone realizes it or not, all products have a life cycle. The life cycle ends when there is no longer a demand for a product. Customers determine demand. It would be in any corporation’s best interest to embrace a customer first mentality.

Customers are a company’s lifeblood. Maybe that isn’t taught in the fast track to management class that many executives graduate from. Sam Walton probably understood it. To most, it seems like common sense. If you want my money, you’re going to have to earn it.

With the power of social media, a single Facebook post or Twitter feed can ruin a company’s reputation overnight. It’s time for managers and executives to stop acting like Robert, the feces covered fungus, and begin channeling their inner Jerry Maguire. Otherwise, the customer can opt to channeling their inner Dolph Lundgren and break you.

Looking for a hero? Oh Yeahhhh!

It was about an hour and half drive to my brother’s house. He had recently relocated to Memphis after accepting a promotion from his workplace. I enjoyed the trips to my brother’s house, of course, but the poor timing that my parents chose to travel had me frustrated. Since this was the first time their eldest son had been away from home, this had become a weekly Saturday trip. For 2 weeks in a row, I had missed wrestling on WMC-TV5.

I had become a wrestling fan around 1978 when flipping through the channels, I stopped to listen to Handsome Jimmy Valiant boast about what he was going to do to Jerry Lawler the following Monday night. From there, I was hooked. I tuned in every week to see Lawler battle Valiant, Bill Dundee, and Austin Idol. The storylines were suspenseful. It was all me and my friends talked about. We could hardly wait until the next Saturday to see what our heroes would do next to gain revenge on each other. If we missed a week of action, we had to imagine it as our friends excitedly explained what had happened. It always seemed like there was a major turn of events on those rare occasions that I missed it. I had missed it 2 weeks in a row. That was like watching the whole season of Dallas, but never finding out who shot J.R.

After hearing me express my frustrations, my step-father came up with a solution. He allowed me to take his TV that he kept in his camper with us on our road trip. The TV also doubled as an AM/FM radio and was powered by 4 D batteries. Although the screen was only about 4 inches and in black&white, I didn’t care. I wouldn’t miss any of the action.

It was shortly after 10:00 and wrestling didn’t come on until 11:00 on channel 5, so I decided to see what I could pick up as we traveled down I-40. Adjusting the rabbit ear antennas, I scrolled the knob until I could get some kind of picture to appear. We couldn’t pick up any of the Memphis channels without cable in Milan where we lived, but I figured I could probably start getting some of the Memphis channels as we traveled closer to the city.

I had seen in the TV Guide that wrestling came on WPTY channel 24 of Memphis at 10:00, but our cable company didn’t offer channel 24. I had always wondered what kind of wrestling was on the channel, but figured that it was just an abbreviated version of the previous week’s Memphis wrestling. An abbreviated version of past shows was shown on some of the other local channels, but I rarely watched them. The TV 5 version was live! I was hoping I could pick up channel 24 on the portable TV to see what was going on. The channel came in a little snowy at first, but cleared up as we traveled down the highway. I had found the wrestling program. However, this wasn’t any version of Memphis wrestling that I had ever seen.

I considered myself a wrestling expert at the age of 12 as I bought all of the Pro Wrestling Illustrated publications and knew wrestlers by name even though I had never seen them. I got excited once when a Goody’s headache commercial aired that starred Dusty Rhodes as he was always on the covers, but I had never actually seen him on a wrestling program. That changed when our cable company added WTBS to our lineup. With TBS, I could now see Tommy Rich, Ole Anderson, Mr. Wrestling II, and an occasional Memphis wrestling favorite who would suddenly turn bad on TBS for some reason. I remember waiting until the next Saturday morning for Memphis wrestling to hear an explanation as to why the favorite turned bad, but it would never happen. The wrestler would be back on Memphis wrestling a favorite again and never mention anything about it. Bewildered, I would tune into WTBS, which came on much later in the afternoon, to see him bad again. I quit trying to figure it out. This had become more common anyway as I read in the magazines of some of my favorite wrestler’s exploits into different states and wrestling territories. As much as I had read and learned about other wrestlers outside of Memphis and what I had seen on TBS, I didn’t recognize any of the wrestlers on the show.

The commentating and action was unlike anything I had ever seen. What really captivated me, though, was the main bad guy that the show seemed to center around. Muscular and tan, yet wild-eyed and bearded with stringy, brown hair. The guy’s voice was like nothing I had ever heard as he made threats to Ronnie Garvin, the only guy that I had heard of as I had read about him in quite a few magazines. This guy was going 90 miles an hour. All of a sudden, this guy grabbed a framed plaque from the announcer’s desk, and breaks it across his forehead. Who was this guy? I wondered as I watched captivated. “I’m the Macho Man, Dig it!” the mad man screamed. The mad man was Randy “Macho Man” Savage.

The next week at school, I tried explaining to my buddies about this new wrestler I had discovered. Unfortunately, one cannot accurately describe someone like Randy Savage to the unknown and do him justice. See is believing. My friends would have to see this guy to appreciate him.

The opportunity for my friends to see the Macho Man would come when WPTY was added to our cable line up. Unfortunately, the talent pool for ICW, the promotion for which Savage wrestled and promoted, had been drastically drained by the time the show was made available to us. The show was terrible to stay the least. It was hard to stay tuned long enough to wait for the Macho Man. Even if you did get to see him, there wasn’t enough competition for him to showcase his talents. There were only a few of us diehards that watched ICW long enough to see it rejuvenated somewhat when savage feuded with the evil Ratamyus. Savage was awesome. He deserved better than this to me.

Eventually, Savage turned up in Memphis wrestling. Most of my friends had no idea who this guy was. As for myself, I was ecstatic. Now all of my friends would get a chance to see him. I was glued to my TV as he battled Jerry Lawler, Austin Idol, Rick Rude, and the Rock & Roll Express. I was disappointed when Jerry Lawler defeated him almost as soon as he entered the territory. I was afraid that the Memphis fans wouldn’t see the same thing that I saw in him when he smashed the plaque across his forehead on channel 24. Ironically, Savage smashed a framed photo of Jerry Lawler during his first appearance on Memphis wrestling. This wasn’t the first time I had a strange sense of Deja vu from the different wrestling programs.

My worries about Savage succeeding were unnecessary. Savage was destined to succeed. He was soon teaming with Lawler, Idol, and Valiant. Eventually, he turned on Lawler. This time around, however, things were different. Savage was more popular than ever. Lawler couldn’t dispose of him that easily. Savage brutalized Lawler in their matches. He showed him who the Macho man was! In the end, Lawler survived and forced Savage to leave town. I knew that there was no way Jerry Lawler was going to lose a loser-leave-town match in Memphis, but I had hopes as I didn’t want to see Savage leave.

Soon the Macho man arrived in the WWF and was a household name. When I heard that he won the tournament to crown a new WWF champion, I asked all my friends if they had heard the news. They didn’t seem as excited as I was. We were approaching our twenties now, and their importance shifted to Super Bowls and NBA playoffs. My passion was still wrestling. Forget about Joe Montana or Michael Jordan, my guy, Randy Savage, had won the big one.