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Dan looked at me in shock and said, “Brad doesn’t let anybody in his house!” Dan told me had been working with Brad for eight years and had never once been invited over.
    From that day on, I knew Brad considered me to be more than just a student. We were developing a long-standing relationship and building a true friendship. Brad trained hundreds of students over the years, and training those guys was always just business; but with me, it was different. Brad became my older brother, and to this day, he’s family. Brad doesn’t have a large family—it’s just him, his mom, and her husband, Jim. At Christmastime, Thanksgiving, all the family holidays, Brad is always welcome at our dinner table. I’ve opened my home to him the same way he opened his home to me.

CURT HENNIG
    W hile I was training with Brad, I met someone who would become another great influence in my pro wrestling career. His name was Curt Hennig, and I wish he was here today to read this chapter.
    Curt was a second-generation wrestler, the son of a big time wrestler in the AWA territory named Larry “The Axe” Hennig. When the old timers all get together and start shooting the shit about “the good old days” of the AWA, they all talk about what a big tough son of a bitch Larry Hennig was in his prime. Curt’s dad smartened him up early about what the pro wrestling business had to offer, and the price you have to pay to achieve success in it.
    Curt taught me something that sticks with me to this day—in the wrestling business, you have to “Get in to get out!”
    I can still hear him say the line. Curt knew the pro wrestling business was built on a pile of people who had been used for everything they were worth, and then dumped on the side of the road. I’m not saying that’s right or wrong. I’m just saying that’s how it is. Since that’s the score in pro wrestling, Curt came up with the idea that the only way to keep your sanity, or your health, was to “get in to get out.”
    I wish he practiced what he preached. Curt got in and really got out. He died in 2003. Nice rib . . .
    I really think about him every day. We could have had so much fun together. I miss him so much, because with Curt you were never just passing time. You were enjoying every minute of it.
    Why did he have to go and die?

LOUISVILLE
    A fter training with Brad for only a few months and fulfilling my commitments to the amateur wrestling community, I was ready to head to Louisville and enter the WWE developmental system. I had started to watch a little pro wrestling on TV so I could see what I was getting myself into. I bought a pickup truck, loaded all my things into the back, and hit the road.
    When I arrived in Louisville, I met up with former Golden Gopher Shelton Benjamin. I followed him as the number one heavyweight at the university, and he stayed on as an assistant coach while I was there. Like me, Shelton had signed with WWE after being recruited by Gerald Brisco. Shelton and I found a two-bedroom apartment to rent, and I was ready to start training.
    My first training session was at nine o’clock on a Monday morning. When I got there, I couldn’t believe it. The “OVW training center” was nothing more than a little box in the middle of a warehouse district. I thought, “I’m working for this huge international company, and this is where all the big-time television wrestlers get trained?”
    When I walked in the door, Danny Davis came right up to meet me. Danny was the owner of OVW and also the head trainer. I liked Danny from the beginning, and we became pretty good friends when I was in Louisville. I have nothing but good things to say about Danny.
    On my first day, he asked me, “Can you hit the ropes, kid?” There I was, NCAA Heavyweight Champion, almost three hundred pounds, ready to take on the world, and Danny wanted to know if I could hit the