ELDON, Mo. - They travel from all over to find the red-brick
building along Maple Street - sandwiched between the computer store
and antique shop - to learn the art of the body slam from the man
they call The Champ.
Nestled between the state capital in
Jefferson City and the resorts in the Lake of the Ozarks, this
sleepy town of about 5,000 is where they come to seek the fame and
fortune that professional wrestling can sometimes bring.
At
the center of their world is Handsome Harley Race, the "King of the
Ring," the eight-time world champion of professional
wrestling.
When would-be wrestlers walk through the door at
the Harley Race Wrestling Academy, they know his
story.
They've heard about how he left his home in St.
Joseph, Mo., in 1959 at age 15 to pursue a wrestling career that
ultimately would take him around the world.
Race wasn't
always the good guy. Sometimes, he was the champion whom fans loved
to hate - strutting, boisterous, loud. He bullied his opponents and
fans. In 1969, he created the "suplex," when a wrestler holds his
opponent up in the air, then drops him flat on his back. The move
remains very popular in the ring today.
One of those who
walked through Race's door a few months ago was Matt "The Missile"
Murphy.
Murphy, 21, at 5-feet, 11-inches tall and 205 pounds,
knows he's smaller than most of his contemporaries and just one of a
thousand up-and-comers who think they have what it takes to make
wrestling a career.
But Murphy said he has an
advantage.
"I'm being trained by Harley Race. You can't learn
greatness from somebody average," said Murphy, a Kahoka, Mo., native
who fell in love with the sport at age 5.
Race's office off
the main training area is small. The words "The Champ" are on his
door. Above his desk sits a leather-and-metal world championship
belt won long before age set in.
Race, 56, retired from the
ring in 1993 but continued as a manager for the World Wrestling
Federation and World Championship Wrestling organizations until
1995, when he was injured in a car accident.
The time away
from the daily grind of professional wrestling was
tough.
"I've never done anything else," said Race, who lives
12 miles from Eldon in a lakefront home with his wife, B.J. "There
have been no odd jobs. I have been wrestling from day
one."
Last year, Race created World League Wrestling and
opened the academy that doubles as a shrine to his wrestling
career.
Race is recovering from a back operation earlier this
year and wears a brace. He walks slowly and rests often, a condition
caused by his operation and the years of being battered in the ring.
His hands resemble bear paws and word around the academy is that he
can still bend a beer bottle cap in two between his
forefingers.
While he encourages his wrestlers to succeed,
Race knows the harsh reality: Most won't make it to the glitzy,
high-dollar world of professional wrestling.
"The odds of any
of these kids ever making it to the big-time are slim to none," Race
said in his deep, gravely voice. "Basically, if they're here to
learn how to wrestle, I can teach them that. If they meet my
expectations."
Those expectations are understandably high for
what many consider one of the greatest wrestlers of the 1970s and
1980s. The walls of his academy are lined with memorabilia from his
career, including pictures of the wrestling greats of today, from
Hulk Hogan to "Stone Cold" Steve Austin.
While Race helped
those wrestlers reach the pinnacle of their sport, he doesn't have
much use for the over-the-top antics of the WWF and
WCW.
"This is wrestling right here. This is how all the big
names had to start," said Race, a baseball cap emblazoned with "Shut
Up and Wrestle" sitting on his weathered head. "What they've done
with it, some is good and some is bad."
There are about 20
wrestlers - from the experienced to the novice - attending the
academy, with a steady stream of prospects walking through the door
every day.
Those with some wrestling experience pay $1,000
for six weeks at the academy. For those without experience, the
training could last up to six months at a cost of
$3,000.
While some students long to make wrestling a
full-time career, most juggle full-time jobs.
There's a
rigorous one-hour tryout outside the ring that Race said has left
many a would-be wrestler throwing up and walking out the
door.
"Toughest thing you're ever going to
do"
If they survive, then it's into the ring.
"This is
probably the toughest thing you're ever going to do in your life,"
Race said he tells his wrestlers.
"Sheik" Derek Stone, known
as a "bad guy" in wrestling vernacular and Race's head instructor,
is one of those who has made a successful career out of wrestling.
He started in the sport in 1993 and now has his own
T-shirt.
At 6-foot-2 and 240 pounds, the dark bearded "Sheik"
is far from menacing when discussing his life's passion.
"If
it takes me to Japan for 10 years and working the independents,
that's OK," said the 27-year-old from Lawrence, Kan. "Everything
that we're doing is work. To be really successful at anything, you
have to work at it. It's not easy."
To wrestlers like Matt
"The Missile" Murphy, Race is a father figure. Race admits that
he'll lend one of his wrestlers a few bucks from time to time. Even
listen to their personal problems.
As far as Murphy is
concerned, what he's learned from Race will help him realize his
dream of making wrestling a lifelong career.
"This isn't a
hobby. This is my life," Murphy said.
Just like The
Champ.
Dennis McHawes, of St. Louis, who wrestles as
"The Drill Instructor," top, puts the squeeze on Dale Heizer,
of Lake Ozark, Feb. 12 at the Harvey Race Wrestling Academy in
Eldon, Mo. "This is probably the toughest thing you're ever
going to do in your life," Race says he tells his
werestlers.