Buzz had skipped town. On the contrary, I think Dominic saw me as his special project-as if he wanted to see if combining my thimbleful of talent and my “ball thisa big” could somehow turn out a decent pro.
On several occasions, he would arrange for me to come back later in the evening for one-on-one training, during which I did things I never thought possible. One night he wanted me to learn a sunset flip, and I flat out told him that it was impossible. He persisted, and after several embarrassing attempts, I managed to pull one off. I was elated to the point of jumping up and down. It was like the first time I was able to climb the rope in gym class, except without the half woody. “How was that, Dominic, how was that?” I excitedly asked my mentor.
“It wasa notta bad,” he replied, in typical DeNucci fashion.
He was a vivid storyteller who spoke in parables to illustrate his point. When one new wrestler asked about learning fancy moves, his reply sounded like it came straight from one of the Gospels. “My boy,” be began, “thisa business is likea the alphabet. Ya cannot spell big words without learning all the letters. First, you heara the letters, next you spell out a little word. Then next you using big college words likea Mickey and Troy.”
“Gee, Dominic,” offered Dave Klebanski, “you’re kind of smart for a guy who can’t speak English.”
Well, maybe Dominic never has mastered the English language, even after forty years in this country. Then again, maybe he goes home and drops the Italian accent completely, like a pizza shop owner I know who uses it only as a business gimmick. I do know, however, that my view of Dominic changed when we began traveling overseas, where I stood with my college-educated thumb up my butt, while Dominic rattled off fluent French, Spanish, and of course Italian in all the different countries we went to.
I wrote a little earlier about Dominic testing my will, which he did, but I have to explain how healthy a thing that is. Throughout much of the history of the business, wrestling trainers have often had two schools of thought about aspiring wrestlers. The first school is to take anybody who has the money, teach him the very bare essentials, and throw him to the wolves. Unfortunately, with so many “trained” wrestlers out there, and so few shows being run, most of the guys’ “careers” consist of only a few very small matches. The wrestling landscape is literally littered with thousands of wannabe wrestlers who don’t know a wristlock from a wristwatch.
The other school of thought is the “let’s show them wrestling is real” school. The concept is drummed into these poor unsuspecting kids in different ways, the most popular of which is to exercise them until they puke, and then get them in the ring and eat them alive. I’m guessing most of these trainers didn’t get enough love as children. Some would intentionally injure a prospective student, so as to send him back to the real world with a different outlook on wrestling. A common ploy was to goad an unsuspecting student into the hands and-knees amateur wrestling “referee position,” under the impression of learning some technical skills. Once the student was in the position, the trainer would abruptly drop a knee on the back of the poor kid’s ankle, immediately breaking it, and therefore putting him in a cast so he could tell all his friends that wrestling was “real.”
If a prospective wrestler came from an athletic background, he was often singled out as an example. I knew a guy who helped train wrestlers in the Midwest who told me he was encouraged to “stretch” legitimate athletes to show them just how real wrestling was. Never mind that this guy was one of the worst pros to ever lace up the boots-he was a skilled amateur who knew all the dirty tricks, and he sent many a pro football player packing. So instead of having a quality lineup of great athletes, this one promoter scared off
On several occasions, he would arrange for me to come back later in the evening for one-on-one training, during which I did things I never thought possible. One night he wanted me to learn a sunset flip, and I flat out told him that it was impossible. He persisted, and after several embarrassing attempts, I managed to pull one off. I was elated to the point of jumping up and down. It was like the first time I was able to climb the rope in gym class, except without the half woody. “How was that, Dominic, how was that?” I excitedly asked my mentor.
“It wasa notta bad,” he replied, in typical DeNucci fashion.
He was a vivid storyteller who spoke in parables to illustrate his point. When one new wrestler asked about learning fancy moves, his reply sounded like it came straight from one of the Gospels. “My boy,” be began, “thisa business is likea the alphabet. Ya cannot spell big words without learning all the letters. First, you heara the letters, next you spell out a little word. Then next you using big college words likea Mickey and Troy.”
“Gee, Dominic,” offered Dave Klebanski, “you’re kind of smart for a guy who can’t speak English.”
Well, maybe Dominic never has mastered the English language, even after forty years in this country. Then again, maybe he goes home and drops the Italian accent completely, like a pizza shop owner I know who uses it only as a business gimmick. I do know, however, that my view of Dominic changed when we began traveling overseas, where I stood with my college-educated thumb up my butt, while Dominic rattled off fluent French, Spanish, and of course Italian in all the different countries we went to.
I wrote a little earlier about Dominic testing my will, which he did, but I have to explain how healthy a thing that is. Throughout much of the history of the business, wrestling trainers have often had two schools of thought about aspiring wrestlers. The first school is to take anybody who has the money, teach him the very bare essentials, and throw him to the wolves. Unfortunately, with so many “trained” wrestlers out there, and so few shows being run, most of the guys’ “careers” consist of only a few very small matches. The wrestling landscape is literally littered with thousands of wannabe wrestlers who don’t know a wristlock from a wristwatch.
The other school of thought is the “let’s show them wrestling is real” school. The concept is drummed into these poor unsuspecting kids in different ways, the most popular of which is to exercise them until they puke, and then get them in the ring and eat them alive. I’m guessing most of these trainers didn’t get enough love as children. Some would intentionally injure a prospective student, so as to send him back to the real world with a different outlook on wrestling. A common ploy was to goad an unsuspecting student into the hands and-knees amateur wrestling “referee position,” under the impression of learning some technical skills. Once the student was in the position, the trainer would abruptly drop a knee on the back of the poor kid’s ankle, immediately breaking it, and therefore putting him in a cast so he could tell all his friends that wrestling was “real.”
If a prospective wrestler came from an athletic background, he was often singled out as an example. I knew a guy who helped train wrestlers in the Midwest who told me he was encouraged to “stretch” legitimate athletes to show them just how real wrestling was. Never mind that this guy was one of the worst pros to ever lace up the boots-he was a skilled amateur who knew all the dirty tricks, and he sent many a pro football player packing. So instead of having a quality lineup of great athletes, this one promoter scared off
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