This is how much of a mark I was for Randy Savage – on the day my first son, William (now 27), was born, I had front row seats to see Ricky “The Dragon” Steamboat battle it out for the Intercontinental Championship against the “Macho Man” Randy Savage, at the Nassau Coliseum on Long Island, New York. This match was coming right of the heels of their epic battle at WrestleMania III. Unlike my disenchantment with the WWE’s product today, at 26 years old I couldn’t WAIT to see this highly anticipated match.
That morning my wife went into labor and spit out little Will. For obvious reasons I couldn’t attend the show that night, and the truth is I WAS PISSED! That’s how highly I thought of Randy Savage at that time, almost putting him on an even playing field with my lovely AND PREGNANT wife, Amy.
I freakin’ loved Savage. The guy was just everything that a sports-entertainer should be. He just had it all, and no matter who you were, how old you were, what race, color, or creed you were, and maybe even what SEX you were, YOU WANTED TO BE THE “MACHO MAN”.
So, it was an absolute no-brainer for me to immediately put on the publications schedule, within the first few weeks I was hired, an exclusive interview with Randy Savage that would be conducted by ME. Yes I no doubt was taking advantage of the “perks” that came with my job, even taking them to the EXTREME, because, this wasn’t going to be a phone interview, or an interview in some dirty, dingy lit locker room. No way, no how. This interview was going to take place at Savage’s town house on the beach, right off the shore of Treasure Island, Florida!!!
So, I flew out to visit Savage, I swear, with the swagger that I had just snagged an interview with the Fab Four! Man, what an honor and privilege this was going to be. Something that was sure to stay with me my entire life, which it did. Now, when I say Randy’s town house was right off the Atlantic Ocean’s shore, I mean it was practically in the freakin’ water!!! And, the place was ALL WINDOWS, so you literally felt like you were smack-dab in the middle of paradise.
Keep in mind, what I’m telling you here could be a small novelette, so I have to try and give you the condensed version. Once I became settled in Randy’s town house, he asked me if I wanted to go down to the beach and do some jet skiing with him on the Atlantic. Did that just register right there? Jet skiing with the “Macho Man’? Yes, this was quite surreal to me. I’ll never forget the masses of bikini-clad babes flockin’ to “Macho”, and guess what? HE NO-SOLD. He was cordial, but wasn’t buyin’ what they were sellin’. A gentlemen through and through.
