It’s been a rough stretch for the wrestling industry this summer. Within the last 60 days, two iconic names of the business have passed away, in Dusty Rhodes and now Rowdy Roddy Piper. Given the fact that the life expectancy for males in the United States is at roughly 80 years old now, it is accurate to say that at 69 and 61 years old respectively, both Dusty and Piper left the world too soon, which is pretty much the epitomal statement made whenever any wrestler passes these days. The lifestyle of the business, especially back when those guys were touring towns, was quite self-destructive, and it would be a bigger surprise if the causes of their deaths weren’t aided in some way or fashion by drugs or substance abuse.
I didn’t write anything publicly when Dusty Rhodes died, but now that Piper has so quickly followed, I think it’s a decent time to put some words down, because ultimately, I felt the same way about both guys, and it’s quite easier to turn this into something of a post that I’m hoping has some substance to it.
The truth is, I was never really a fan of either Dusty Rhodes or Roddy Piper. This doesn’t mean that I don’t care about their deaths, far from it; they’re both unfortunate and absolutely horrible for the families that they left behind, but at the same time, I don’t see any reason to pretend like I was ever a big fan of either wrestler when they were still active. Nor did I see any point of waxing poetic about great they were in the business, because I frankly don’t agree to such as fervently as many other wrestling fans do.
In my opinion, Dusty was garbage in the ring, somewhat entertaining on the mic, and as much as people extol his contributions to the business as a booker, the truth is that he also pushed and endorsed a style of wrestling that probably contributed to the shortening of lots of wrestlers’ lives, what with his propensity for brutality, busting people open (bleeding) and stiff punches.
I don’t have a lot of glowing reminiscing of Dusty Rhodes, because I was too young to grasp his stuff in the NWA, and he wasn’t really in WWF long enough for me to grow attached. Frankly, for me, one his greatest contributions to the business was being part of the Survivor Series match in which the Million Dollar Man introduced the Undertaker into the company, where he would squash Koko B. Ware, and eventually get himself counted out, for being out of the ring too long to beat on Dusty.
Otherwise, all I really remembered of Dusty Rhodes was the fat guy with the lisp who was paraded around in polka dots, followed around by a portly black woman named Sapphire. To those who weren’t aware of it, this character was created by Vince McMahon, solely to humble and humiliate him Dusty, because prior to his arrival in the WWF, Dusty was the competition, with stints in the NWA, Jim Crockett, Georgia Championship, which eventually became WCW; but his propensity for violence got himself shitcanned by WCW, and being a man who understood the importance of working, didn’t waste any time swallowing his pride and sought out a job with the WWF. And Vince McMahon was more than willing to give him a job, and ultimately attempt to humble him in the process.
The thing is, the more I write this, the more Dusty’s admirable traits come out, because he could very well have balked and refused, and ultimately got himself fired for insubordination, but if Vince McMahon wanted to humiliate Dusty, Dusty was going to let him, as long as the paychecks kept coming in. Dusty had cut numerous promos referring to his humble background and modest upbringing, but the fact of the matter was that he himself didn’t really deviate with those traits.
Admirable qualities as a man, but the truth of the matter is that I was still never really a fan of Dusty Rhodes.
Quite frankly, I don’t think many people out there really were too, in spite of the monumental amount of respect and memorandum given to Dusty upon his passing. It’s easy to be nice to the departed, but the fact is that I don’t buy it when some people come out to be so nice to a guy, after they’re dead. Like, I admire Vince McMahon a lot, but it’s pretty well documented how petty he could get in regards to Dusty Rhodes, and to hear him wax poetic after he died? Not buying it.
I remember when I went to Hulk Hogan’s beach store a few years ago, my buddy James and I were hanging out and chatting with the proprietor of the store, who was allegedly a close friend with the Hulkster, since he was the one managing it in his stead. During our chat, the store’s phone rang, and since the store was kind of light on a Monday afternoon, we could hear the one-sided conversation quite well. About “how he wasn’t here,” and “he’ll be in later this afternoon,” and things said to someone obviously seeking out Hulk Hogan.
When he finally disconnected the call, he looked at James and I and said “That was Dusty Rhodes.”
The thing is, it dawned on me that “in real life,” it could be theorized that Hulk Hogan and Dusty Rhodes weren’t not so chummy to the point where Dusty might actually have Hogan’s personal number. If Dusty wanted to get in touch with Hogan, he had to call the one place where he thought he might be, his beach store, and try to get him there. Sure, this is all speculation, but it’s also easy to surmise that they probably weren’t close outside of the business.
Yet, when Dusty passed, Hulk Hogan was among the many who also had nothing but glowing things to say about him. All I recalled was how Dusty had no choice but to cold call his business to try and get in touch.
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As for Roddy Piper, a lot of the same applies to him. As a wrestler, I have never been impressed with him. I honestly cannot remember a single match where he was really impressive; and I’ve seen matches he had with both Bret Hart and Ric Flair, two guys known to be legendary at being able to carry and elevate their opponents. He was always a skinny-limbed brawler who had a limited arsenal throughout his entire career, where the only things that I really remember are an atomic drop, the sleeper hold, and a deliberate poke in the eyes. How he amassed so many Intercontinental and United States championship reigns is beyond me, but likely on account of his namesake alone.
Like Dusty, on the microphone is where Piper shone a little bit more, but that was mostly on the fact that there were times when he simply didn’t give a shit, or the people in charge of monitoring the promos didn’t give a shit, because there were times when he said a lot of surprisingly inappropriate things throughout his career, and I get a kick out of dark humor. Personally, I never got the impression that Piper was really a person with many prejudices, but he has said some things in the past on the stick that would probably be wildly offensive and very much prohibited in today’s wrestling standards, like things about natives of Fiji, black people, transvestites and queers. However, once the stranglehold of censorship started tightening around the business, Piper’s effectiveness on the mic revealed itself quickly, resorting to lots of rambling babbling and eventually a catchphrase about how he changes all the questions when people think they have all the answers.
Otherwise, I don’t really have any emotional connection to Roddy Piper. I’m sure we’ll hear a lot about his contributions to the business in the coming week when he will inevitably be honored and commemorated on wrestling programs. Sure, there’s something to be said about his longevity and his presence in the history of the business, but I don’t really think he deserves as much praise as he’s going to get.
Inevitably, we’re going to hear about his contributions to the very first Wrestlemania, and how he was in the main event of it, teamed with Mr. Wonderful Paul Orndorff, against the team of Hulk Hogan and Mr. T (although, it will be very interesting to see how WWE tries to mention this iconic match while simultaneously trying to avoid mentioning Hulk Hogan who was martyred for racism).
But the match itself sucked! Mr. T couldn’t wrestle, and so much of the match is Mr. T and Roddy Piper rolling around on the mat trying to do amateur style, and it wasn’t until the end of the match where Cowboy Bob Orton and Superfly Jimmy Snuka got involved did it get interesting, before it mercifully ended.
The thing is, I read Roddy Piper’s autobiography, because I’m a fan of wrestler autobiographies. I don’t know if it’s a Canadian wrestler thing, or just a Canadian thing, because much like Bret Hart, so much of the book is spent voiced with this martyr complex about how Vince McMahon and Hulk Hogan were always trying to one-up and screw Piper out of all the money he deserved. He did not have many good things to say about either man, but it will be interesting to see how both men will likely say nothing but good things about him, now that he’s dead.
Otherwise, I don’t have any fond memories of Piper. Other than the crappy Wrestlemania I match, the only things that really stood out to me when I think about Roddy Piper is his awful feud with Goldust (seen above), and when he was in WCW a segment where he was locked in Alcatraz, because it was the only wait to detain him prior to his match with Hulk Hogan. Anything else is a series of repetitive returns where he just saunters out onto the stage wearing his kilt and a leather jacket, in varying stages of post-retirement weight gain or loss.
I’m not going to pretend like I was ever a fan of Roddy Piper, but it will be interesting to see how many people will.
Both Dusty and Piper are major deal names in the business, but their deaths, albeit unfortunate, don’t tug on any emotional strings for me. If Hacksaw Jim Duggan, Sgt. Slaughter, or Hulk Hogan pass, I’ll probably have way larger of an emotional reaction. The difference is that I’m not going to pretend like every single wrestler was the greatest that lived, once they die.
