My Time with Harley Race
The year is 2005, and I’m ready to take my love of pro wrestling to the next level. In all honesty, I had never harbored much desire to get in the ring as a competitor. I'm a bit undersized, at least for the time, and my athletic background is limited to Junior High football. Something in me has clicked, and my gut tells me I need to go for it. I’m living in Wichita, KS, at the time, and I'm hoping not to travel too far if it can be helped.
My choice of wrestling schools was limited to that region of the Midwest. There were only two; Steel Rage Pro Wrestling in Oklahoma and The Harley Race Wrestling Academy in central Missouri. Now, I did venture out a little further and spoke to and considered attending Robert Gibson’s Rock and Roll Express Fame, a school in MS. But the more I deliberated upon it, I knew the choice was essentially a no-brainer. Who would pass up the opportunity to train under one of the legitimate GOATs of Pro Wrestling if you’re serious about a career in it?
I remember my first interaction with Harley as if it were yesterday. I didn’t do email back then, so a phone call was in order. I call the number shown on the site, and a gruff, unmistakable voice answers on the other end. As I’m having this conversation and asking the pertinent questions, I can’t help but keep wondering, am I talking to Harley?! Near the end of the call, I’m sure I am speaking to the man himself. I can’t help but ask, and before hanging up, I cautiously ask, “sir, am I speaking to Harley.” To my relief, Harley not only confirms that it is him, but he seems pleased to be recognized.
My tryout is set for the Royal Rumble weekend of 2006. I’m in good shape, but because I'm only 23 at the time, my metabolism ensures that my weight stays around 160 lbs. It’s now or never, though, and I arrive early at the training facility. Harley’s school was located in a painfully small town at the time. Eldon, MO, had little more than a Wal-Mart, a Pizza Hut, Subway, and a grocery store. There was a gym next door to the training facility, owned by none other than Ace Steel.
Across the street was a community center, where Harley would run shows to give trainees in-ring experience in front of paying crowds. They happened to be running a show that day, so things were a bit hectic. I’m one of only three guys trying out, one of which was visibly out of shape, and the other a tall, athletic young man who resembles a young Alberto Del Rio. The latter would become my roommate and good friend to this day Johnny Pantoya. After some basic drills and cardio exercises, we briefly get in the ring. We're instructed to hold onto the middle rope and let go, falling to our backs.
I don’t remember being mainly put off by the often brutal reality of “bumping” that day. However, that would all change in about eight weeks. After being told that we had passed the tryout and were officially invited to attend the school, we headed across the street to hang out before the show. This was my first face to face to meeting with Harley. It was brief, and while he was polite enough, he understandably didn’t have much time for a prospect as he prepared for the show.
There was another first-time meeting that day that would also prove to have a great deal of foreshadowing. I knew Trevor Murdoch had been a student of Harley’s, but I wasn’t aware that he LIVED in the area. But lo and behold, he was in Central Missouri at a spot show 24 hrs before he was booked to be in the Royal Rumble in Miami. I shook his hand and semi-jokingly asked if he was going to win the Rumble, to which he replied, “of course, can’t you tell I'm getting pushed?!” This was a caustic response, as he had been doing jobs for the last eight weeks, though that would eventually change.
I began training at Harley’s in April of 2006. As I often do, I came in with a cauldron of enthusiasm, but that was quickly neutralized. My first one-on-one meeting with Harley took place a day before I started. We discussed money and the down payment, which was $1000. Now, as many people know, Harley would eventually have dementia. He was beginning to show a few early signs of the ailment, and he forgot that I had paid him! Even worse, he had given me a handwritten receipt on the back of a business card. When asked to produce this unofficial documentation, I couldn’t find it. Years later, I would find it buried behind several other cards in my wallet.
Immediately after the meeting with Harley, I went next door to the gym to sign up for a membership. I was greeted by a smiling and gregarious man who resembled a hybrid of Chris Jericho and another Chris from Canada. He introduced himself as Ace, and his demeanour was pleasant and friendly. He was, of course, Ace Steel, the man who trained CM Punk and Colt Cabana. Ace and I hit off, but that relationship would eventually go south, which I still regret.
My first day of training commenced with the signing of a waiver that stated in the event of my death or injury, the school was not responsible. I remember my hand shaking as I read the word “death” repeatedly. I would meet my head trainer that day, Darin Waid. Darin was a talented worker and a good athlete with a massive chip on his shoulder and an embittered outlook. I think he realized he had gone as far as he was going to go in wrestling, and he took his insecurities out on the trainees. For the first few weeks, he would openly tell people he liked me a lot, but this would eventually give way to him taking great pleasure in humiliating me.
Mark with Harley Race and other students at the Harley Race Wrestling Academy.
After our first full day, I was ready to quit or die. My roommate had told me that we would be training alongside two of Ted Dibiase’s sons, Ted JR and Mike. Both of which endured the same gruelling punishment as I did. The cardio exercises were enough to give a fit person shock syndrome, and we began actual in-ring training. I had no clue what I had signed up for, and I was not only having second thoughts but 4th and 16th thoughts. I soldiered on, but not without a healthy bit of deliberation.
I may be pulling back the curtain a bit here, but Harley didn’t do much of the training. He was too beat up and aged at that point to walk correctly. Instead, he would come in, chain smoke Marlboro lights, and offer occasional verbal instructions. That is until one evening when we were working on arm drags. Myself and another student, Brad, were two sides of the same coin. He picked up on certain things, and I took to others more readily. Neither of us was particularly good at arm drags, with me being especially dismal. After trying and failing over and over again, Harley had become visibly agitated. He made a rare appearance at ringside and calmly instructed us at first. I couldn’t get it for whatever reason, and Harley gradually began to FUME. It was awkward as none of us were used to seeing Harley show this much emotion.
On the one hand, I took pride in Harley caring enough to become emotionally invested in my development. On the other hand, when that emotion is anger coming from one of the toughest men in the history of the sport, it’s a little unsettling. Later, I would have the privilege of going on a long car ride with Harley, just him and myself. I was tasked with hanging up fliers in surrounding areas for an upcoming show. It was tough to contain my excitement and not “mark out,” as they say, even though I saw this man weekly. I've always said if you want to get to know someone, go on a long car ride with them. I did just that with Harley Race, and I can confidently tell you he was one of the best human beings I ever knew.
All in all, my time at Harley’s was pretty miserable. It was hard to keep a good job because it was such a small town. Myself, Johnny, and our friend, who we affectionately referred to as Curtista, would self-medicate and often had piles of beer cans that would scrape the ceiling. Ultimately, a career as a professional wrestler wasn’t my destiny, as I would find my way back to music and eventually become a writer and an actor.
The lessons I learned at Harley’s have stayed with me my entire life. Trevor Murdoch once said three words to me that made me see wrestling in a new light that I still refer to. Trevor, who was on the road four days a week with WWE, working alongside names like DX and Edge, would elect to come in and work with us on his days off.
Trevor looked at all of us one day, held up his fists, and said, “it’s a fight.” This whole business, this life, our existence, it’s a fight. It allowed me to see the sport of professional wrestling as few will ever get the privilege to. The Harley Race Wrestling Academy changed my perspective on both wrestling and life. It reinforced the notion that wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, there’s no better place to be on God’s green Earth than under those bright lights.
