12.08.2004, 07:22
I will always consider the March 1, 2004, RAW in Georgia to be one of the great moments of my career. The unveiling of The Rock as my special WrestleMania tag team partner felt like an incredible culmination to the journey I had traveled against Randy Orton and Evolution. So much so that the ‘Mania match itself, in retrospect, seemed almost anti-climactic to me.
Over the last few days, however, after hearing of the death of fellow wrestler Ken Timbs, I have come to think of that trip to Atlanta in a different light. Instead of the roar of the crowd, I will think of a small act of kindness, and instead of the reuniting of the “Rock ‘n’ Sock Connection,” I will think of my last visit with Ken Timbs, his wife Juanita, and their seemingly endless supply of children.
I used to be a frequent visitor back in my WCW and ECW days, when Juanita Timbs made several of my Cactus Jack tights, most notably the black and snakeskin pair that I wore in the “King of the Deathmatch” tournament. When I moved on to WWE, I lost track of the family for a little while, until the slow but steady urge of dreams left unrealized brought me back into their lives in the fall of 2002.
“Have you seen the Wizard of the Oz?” I asked Ken.
“Of course,” he said.
“You know that little guy in the Lollypop Guild, the guy with the red hair dressed in green?”
“I think so.”
“Well do you think you guys could make my one-and-a-half-year-old look like him?”
It was about 30 degrees that Halloween in New York, but that didn’t stop me from strolling Mick Jr. (who luckily was still too young to know how foolish he looked) from house to house and pressing “play” on the boom box, so that each befuddled neighbor got to look at an exact replica of the green “Lollypop Kid” (complete with oversized lollypop stuck in his tiny fist) as the strains of “We represent the Lollypop Guild” filled the brisk autumn air, and a large hairy man beamed a smile from ear to ear, his life’s dream finally fulfilled.
In my visit this past March, I had serious business on my mind. I though I might be having a singles match with Randy Orton at Backlash in April, and needed a new pair of “Cactus” tights for the occasion. More important than the particulars of my comeback match attire, however, was the picture I held in my hand. The serious business I just wrote of. It was a picture of Peter Pan.
I took little Mick to the circus last night.
He set some kind of new big top award for most bows taken, as he interprets every burst of audience applause as a sign of admiration for his circus skills, which consist mainly of climbing all over his dad’s shoulders. I thought it seemed appropriate that the little guy went dressed in the outfit the Timbs had made him. It also made me remember the surprise I felt when I opened up the box and saw the note that accompanied the costume. “No charge,” it read. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised. In 1995, Ken and Juanita made my kids dreams come true with knock-out Batman and Batgirl costumes (I wrote of these in “Have a Nice Day”.) Eight years later, he made my own dreams come true with the arrival of our special munchkin outfit. This year they made a little boy very happy with their Peter Pan creation. And through it all, they never made me pay.
I used to hear stories about Ken Timbs as a wrestler. Apparently he and Eric Embry were quite a tag team at one time. As “El Fabuloso Blondie” in Mexico, he didn’t shy away from the legit heat that came with pro-American gimmick. I believe he was also the man who introduced many hardcore stipulation matches to Mexican audiences. But even though I wrestled him once on a small independent show in a town I’ve long forgotten, I can’t say I’m all that familiar with him as a wrestler.
Instead, I knew him as a father who personally delivered all nine of his children, I knew him as a friend, who always had a warm, open home for me to visit. And I knew him as a man who liked to make my children’s dreams come true, and who never charged me for that privilege.
Sincerely,
Mick Foley
Over the last few days, however, after hearing of the death of fellow wrestler Ken Timbs, I have come to think of that trip to Atlanta in a different light. Instead of the roar of the crowd, I will think of a small act of kindness, and instead of the reuniting of the “Rock ‘n’ Sock Connection,” I will think of my last visit with Ken Timbs, his wife Juanita, and their seemingly endless supply of children.
I used to be a frequent visitor back in my WCW and ECW days, when Juanita Timbs made several of my Cactus Jack tights, most notably the black and snakeskin pair that I wore in the “King of the Deathmatch” tournament. When I moved on to WWE, I lost track of the family for a little while, until the slow but steady urge of dreams left unrealized brought me back into their lives in the fall of 2002.
“Have you seen the Wizard of the Oz?” I asked Ken.
“Of course,” he said.
“You know that little guy in the Lollypop Guild, the guy with the red hair dressed in green?”
“I think so.”
“Well do you think you guys could make my one-and-a-half-year-old look like him?”
It was about 30 degrees that Halloween in New York, but that didn’t stop me from strolling Mick Jr. (who luckily was still too young to know how foolish he looked) from house to house and pressing “play” on the boom box, so that each befuddled neighbor got to look at an exact replica of the green “Lollypop Kid” (complete with oversized lollypop stuck in his tiny fist) as the strains of “We represent the Lollypop Guild” filled the brisk autumn air, and a large hairy man beamed a smile from ear to ear, his life’s dream finally fulfilled.
In my visit this past March, I had serious business on my mind. I though I might be having a singles match with Randy Orton at Backlash in April, and needed a new pair of “Cactus” tights for the occasion. More important than the particulars of my comeback match attire, however, was the picture I held in my hand. The serious business I just wrote of. It was a picture of Peter Pan.
I took little Mick to the circus last night.
He set some kind of new big top award for most bows taken, as he interprets every burst of audience applause as a sign of admiration for his circus skills, which consist mainly of climbing all over his dad’s shoulders. I thought it seemed appropriate that the little guy went dressed in the outfit the Timbs had made him. It also made me remember the surprise I felt when I opened up the box and saw the note that accompanied the costume. “No charge,” it read. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised. In 1995, Ken and Juanita made my kids dreams come true with knock-out Batman and Batgirl costumes (I wrote of these in “Have a Nice Day”.) Eight years later, he made my own dreams come true with the arrival of our special munchkin outfit. This year they made a little boy very happy with their Peter Pan creation. And through it all, they never made me pay.
I used to hear stories about Ken Timbs as a wrestler. Apparently he and Eric Embry were quite a tag team at one time. As “El Fabuloso Blondie” in Mexico, he didn’t shy away from the legit heat that came with pro-American gimmick. I believe he was also the man who introduced many hardcore stipulation matches to Mexican audiences. But even though I wrestled him once on a small independent show in a town I’ve long forgotten, I can’t say I’m all that familiar with him as a wrestler.
Instead, I knew him as a father who personally delivered all nine of his children, I knew him as a friend, who always had a warm, open home for me to visit. And I knew him as a man who liked to make my children’s dreams come true, and who never charged me for that privilege.
Sincerely,
Mick Foley