out twenties. I think once we even got a hundred-dollar bill.
At night, we were leaving there with two or three hundred extra bucks every night. Which, as far as I could tell, mysteriously vanished. Maybe one of these days I’ll check to see if D-Von did build a church after all.
DEVON HUGHES
The Reverend D-Von, of course, was Devon Hughes, who fans may also know as D-Von Dudley. He started wrestling professionally around 1991 and was in the ECW before coming over to WWE. (They were separate companies in those days.) By the time I got there, Devon was a pretty big star and a well-respected veteran. After wrestling with Bubba Ray as the tag team Dudley Boys, he worked the corrupt preacher angle as Reverend D-Von on SmackDown! He’d just started doing that when I came on as his bodyguard.
The Dudleys, D-Von and Bubba.
Devon was the guy who broke me in on the road. He was the first guy I drove with consistently. He was a veteran but he really took me under his wing. He looked out for me, making sure I knew the ropes of being on the road. He was really my introduction to a lot of the things about this business that you can’t find in a book.
Devon liked to hang out a lot. He was real big on going out and having a few drinks after the shows. I’d always tease him because he drank white Zinfandel wine. A great big muscled-up black dude, and he’d go in and order white Zinfandel, a drink most of us think of as a girl’s drink. Now I get ragged on because I always order Malibu.
Devon also showed up with new jewelry every week. We used to always make fun of that, too. We said he had a Mr. T Starter Kit. He had a ring on every finger and about twenty gold chains around his neck.
IN THE EYE
I was nervous as a rookie. Trying to fit in, trying to show the veterans that you belong, can be difficult. It doesn’t take much to fuck up.
One of my early matches, we were working against Ron Simmons. I can’t remember who he was tagging with. You know, Ron’s a huge guy. He’s pretty intimidating. And with me just starting out, I didn’t want to ruffle any feathers or piss anybody off. Especially not Ron Simmons.
We worked a match with him and I accidentally thumbed him in his eye. I felt my thumb go in at least an inch. Well, maybe not an inch, but it definitely went into his eyeball. He fell out of the ring and he was holding his eye. He was covering it. I’m thinking, Oh God, this guy, he’s going to kill me. Here I am with the company only a few weeks, and I already buried myself with a veteran.
After the match we got backstage ahead of him. I told D-Von that Ron was going to kill me. Then Ron came in and I started apologizing all over the place.
“Hey, Ron, I’m so sorry,” I told him. “I’m really sorry.”
“For what?” he said. His eye was pretty much swelled shut.
“Your eye. I’m sorry I thumbed you.”
“My eye?” He tried blinking, but it wouldn’t quite open.
“Yeah, really, I’m sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose. It was just an accident.”
“This?” He made a face and then rubbed it. “Naaahhhh, man, I just have some sweat in my eye.”
“I—”
“You didn’t do anything, kid. I just got a little sweat in it. Everything’s cool. No problem, man.”
He tried not selling it, pretending it was okay, but his eye was too swelled to even open right. But there he was, giving me a pass. He must have seen how nervous I was and really just felt sorry for me.
It shows you what a good guy Ron is. He could have easily ripped me apart, in front of everyone, and some veterans might have. But Ron Simmons was the kind of guy who had a lot of class, the kind who knew how to inspire a rookie just by being himself.
Thinking about Ron reminds me of some other friends of mine who really helped me out in the early days. Two I don’t want to forget to mention are Tommy Dreamer and Stevie Richards, who were great friends to me. They really encouraged me. Tommy still offers advice from time to
At night, we were leaving there with two or three hundred extra bucks every night. Which, as far as I could tell, mysteriously vanished. Maybe one of these days I’ll check to see if D-Von did build a church after all.
DEVON HUGHES
The Reverend D-Von, of course, was Devon Hughes, who fans may also know as D-Von Dudley. He started wrestling professionally around 1991 and was in the ECW before coming over to WWE. (They were separate companies in those days.) By the time I got there, Devon was a pretty big star and a well-respected veteran. After wrestling with Bubba Ray as the tag team Dudley Boys, he worked the corrupt preacher angle as Reverend D-Von on SmackDown! He’d just started doing that when I came on as his bodyguard.
The Dudleys, D-Von and Bubba.
Devon was the guy who broke me in on the road. He was the first guy I drove with consistently. He was a veteran but he really took me under his wing. He looked out for me, making sure I knew the ropes of being on the road. He was really my introduction to a lot of the things about this business that you can’t find in a book.
Devon liked to hang out a lot. He was real big on going out and having a few drinks after the shows. I’d always tease him because he drank white Zinfandel wine. A great big muscled-up black dude, and he’d go in and order white Zinfandel, a drink most of us think of as a girl’s drink. Now I get ragged on because I always order Malibu.
Devon also showed up with new jewelry every week. We used to always make fun of that, too. We said he had a Mr. T Starter Kit. He had a ring on every finger and about twenty gold chains around his neck.
IN THE EYE
I was nervous as a rookie. Trying to fit in, trying to show the veterans that you belong, can be difficult. It doesn’t take much to fuck up.
One of my early matches, we were working against Ron Simmons. I can’t remember who he was tagging with. You know, Ron’s a huge guy. He’s pretty intimidating. And with me just starting out, I didn’t want to ruffle any feathers or piss anybody off. Especially not Ron Simmons.
We worked a match with him and I accidentally thumbed him in his eye. I felt my thumb go in at least an inch. Well, maybe not an inch, but it definitely went into his eyeball. He fell out of the ring and he was holding his eye. He was covering it. I’m thinking, Oh God, this guy, he’s going to kill me. Here I am with the company only a few weeks, and I already buried myself with a veteran.
After the match we got backstage ahead of him. I told D-Von that Ron was going to kill me. Then Ron came in and I started apologizing all over the place.
“Hey, Ron, I’m so sorry,” I told him. “I’m really sorry.”
“For what?” he said. His eye was pretty much swelled shut.
“Your eye. I’m sorry I thumbed you.”
“My eye?” He tried blinking, but it wouldn’t quite open.
“Yeah, really, I’m sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose. It was just an accident.”
“This?” He made a face and then rubbed it. “Naaahhhh, man, I just have some sweat in my eye.”
“I—”
“You didn’t do anything, kid. I just got a little sweat in it. Everything’s cool. No problem, man.”
He tried not selling it, pretending it was okay, but his eye was too swelled to even open right. But there he was, giving me a pass. He must have seen how nervous I was and really just felt sorry for me.
It shows you what a good guy Ron is. He could have easily ripped me apart, in front of everyone, and some veterans might have. But Ron Simmons was the kind of guy who had a lot of class, the kind who knew how to inspire a rookie just by being himself.
Thinking about Ron reminds me of some other friends of mine who really helped me out in the early days. Two I don’t want to forget to mention are Tommy Dreamer and Stevie Richards, who were great friends to me. They really encouraged me. Tommy still offers advice from time to
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