Thank You Dusty
This one took a while for me. I wanted to write it sooner, I even contemplated writing it on June 11 but that would be like eulogizing your father on the same day of his death. Therein lies the problem for me; Dusty Rhodes was my second dad.
He never knew it though, as I'm sure he never knew the impact he had on so many fans around the world. I likely was not the only one that looked up to Dusty as a father figure and for all of his grieving children, this has been a tough few days.
My first childhood memory of Dusty was his size. I was a big kid and my dad was a big man, so naturally I gravitated toward him. Simply put, Dusty didn't look like a tough guy. He wasn't ripped like The Road Warriors and he wasn't toned like Ric Flair. Dusty looked as though he had stepped out from the crowd and volunteered to work a match.
But when he got in the ring, he tore the house down. He didn't need the big muscles, he didn't need the perfectly coiffed hair, all he needed was his fighting spirit and incredible will to win. Dusty Rhodes was not just a pro wrestler, he was a force of nature and it's amazing his 302 pound frame could even hold all of that intensity and charisma. The truth is, he wasn't big enough.
He brought a world of talent and ability to his matches, he entertained on the highest level and he did all of that with a complete believability in his character. When fans looked at him, they saw a real man with real problems, fighting the good fight against a rogue's gallery of heels.
The Four Horsemen sought to destroy him. Jim Cornette and The Midnight Express wanted to discredit him. Hawk and Animal betrayed him and left him for dead. Barry Windham disrespected him by joining the Horsemen and Flair was always there as his villainous counterpart.
Dusty's back was always against the wall and he always came out swinging. He lived John Cena's catchphrases long before there was a John Cena. Dusty never gave up, he took the fight to them and he did so with a legion of fans supporting him, including myself.
When The Horsemen broke his hand in the parking lot, I cried. When Nikita Koloff had his back against Ole Anderson and JJ Dillion, I screamed until I was hoarse. When he cut the famous "hard times" promo, I jumped up with my heart racing, ready to take on the world.
Dusty was brave when I was not. He was confident when I couldn't be and when I didn't believe in anything, he never lost the faith. He represented the best the human spirit has to offer and I learned to not only stay strong from him, I learned to do it with a smile.
Life was not always easy for The American Dream but then again, living the American Dream is not an easy prospect for many people. It certainly wasn't for me; my father was killed when I was four years old and for the next 10 years, all I had in the world was my mom and Dusty Rhodes. He was the man I needed in my life, the example that I could look to when I needed inspiration. He was always there.
He was my hero. He fought for me. He never knew what he meant to me and in the end, that's okay. I know and I will never forget.
Thank you Dusty.
