“Nature Boy” Ric Flair is my favorite wrestler of all time. There is no other performer who comes close. I discovered him at a time when my interest in the sport was waning. Prior to that, he was the elder statesman of the sport. I rolled my eyes whenever an older fan would tell me how good he once was. He screamed “WHOOO!” and threw ridiculous chops. He was a good hand, but wasn’t as exciting as Shawn Michaels.
When WWE released The Ultimate Ric Flair Collection, I got to see Flair in his prime. I was mesmerized by him. He never wasted a move. Every punch, knee drop and chop meant something. Every match had a storyline. He taught me that the purpose of the heel was not to yell and cheat, but to dictate the pace of the bout. He was so good that many of his matches became archetypes. His matches with Barry Windham, Ricky Morton and Sting pitted the young lion against the cagey veteran. Flair would get beaten up for 40 minutes before finally getting the victory. Although the young kid often lost the match, he would walk away a star. His matches with Harley Race and Terry Funk were brawls that added a layer of toughness to his carefully manicured persona.
Those feuds were all great, but his matches with Ricky Steamboat changed the way I looked at professional wrestling. I’ve seen their match from Clash of the Champions VI so many times that I can call it from memory. Flair and Steamboat wrestle for almost 60 minutes. The pace ebbs and flows. The stiff chopping matches are balanced by mat wrestling. Flair’s cheating is balanced by Steamboat’s intensity. They both hit their signature spots, but package them so they seem new. I will never get tired of watching that match, and I will probably never get tired of writing about it. Whenever the WWE or TNA get too cartoonish, Flair/Steamboat II reminds me why I am a wrestling fan.
Flair’s wheeling, dealing, kiss-stealing, limousine riding, jet flying son-of-a-gun attitude was also a major part of his appeal. He seemed so confident, so together, and so cool. As a mild mannered journalism student, he was my polar opposite. I wanted to wear a fur coat for no reason at all. I wanted to tell Tony Schiavone that my shoes cost more than his house. I wanted to walk down the ring with 15 hot chicks. I wanted to be Space Mountain.
The best thing about Flair was that he seemed to be exactly what he was on television. He was a hard drinking, womanizing jet-setter. He wasn’t like Hulk Hogan, who told kids not to do drugs and then snorted coke in the dressing room with The Iron Sheik.
My love for the character often made me look the other way. He was arrested for road rage, and I made an excuse. He got into a fight with his daughter, and I made an excuse. He didn’t pay taxes, I made an excuse. I could never separate the character from the human being.
The character kept giving me great moments. When he made his farewell address on Raw the day after his match with Shawn Michaels at WrestleMania XXIV, I thanked him. When he did his shoot interview with Highspots, I paid $50 for a signed copy. When Ricky Steamboat was finally inducted into the WWE Hall of Fame this year, I watched them lock up one last time. The ceremony was the last time I saw Ric Flair.
Flair started to burn bridges. He signed with Ring of Honor to be an ambassador, and walked out with their money. He swore he would never wrestle again, but signed to do a tour of Australia with Hogan.
A few weeks ago, it was announced that Highspots would be selling the original NWA title belt to the highest bidder. The belt had been in Flair’s possession since 1985, when the NWA started using the famed Big Gold Belt. On his shoot interview, Flair said that the belt was the one thing from his career that he hoped to pass on to his son. It was priceless.
Apparently “priceless” translates to $75,000. Flair used the belt as collateral in a loan with Highspots. He didn’t pay them back, so it went on the auction block. I can’t look the other way anymore. Richard Fliehr is saying that being Ric Flair is more important than history. Being Ric Flair is more important than having something to pass on to your children. The belt was once worn by Harley Race, Dusty Rhodes, The Funk Brothers, Buddy Rogers, and Lou Thesz. Instead of going in a museum, it’s going into someone’s private collection. It’s a sad end.
I understand how hard it must be for Fliehr to let Ric Flair go. He has lived the majority of his life through that character’s eyes. Unfortunately that character only exists on old episodes of World Championship Wrestling. He needs to come to terms with his age and find the man behind the mask. I don’t think he has ever explored a life beyond being custom made from head to toe.
I watched Flair/Steamboat II as I was writing this essay. It’s still the greatest match I have ever seen. He is still the greatest professional wrestler of all time. I wish he’d left the memories alone.