Kennedy, John... now we really are in trouble.
Kennedy, Robert... way to end the whole concept of short cuts.
Brower, Bulldog.... Father of the year. Built like a tank, permanently fearsome. Google his name, you'll find his kids knew a different guy (Never mind i did it for you - http://slam.canoe.ca/Slam/Wrestling/Bios/brower.html.
Iaukea, Curtis (King)... when I was a kid I heard tell of a legendary match where he and Mark Lewin wrestled into the street outside Festival Hall, fighting on top of cars, surrounded by hundreds of fans... then before you know it in the interests of national security and reliving the alliances of world war two, he was a good guy.
Kox, Karl Killer... possibly the greatest excuse for a turn in the history of professional wrestling based on a deathbed mother request: Karl, why can't you be a good boy.
Lennon, John... Walking down a Paris street, a newspaper headline: John Lennon assassine... You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.
Dundee, Angelo... did Angelo copy the character or were a hundred movie based old ancient craggy boxing trainers based on Angelo. Who knows? Who cares? You can't see Ali in the ring without seeing Angelo. Next time you see a boxing match and you can't see the boxer between rounds because the trainers asses are in the way, blame Angelo.
We all get old.... Well most of us.
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