George The Animal Steele - Animal

Contents

Foreword by Cowboy Bill Watts

My friend Jim Myers, aka George the Animal Steele, was a ferocious competitor, a standout athlete, and a pro wrestling superstar.

Vince McMahon, the impresario of World Wrestling Entertainment, refers to wrestlers getting into character when they perform in the ring or cut a promo on camera, just like Hollywood actors do.

I had a character of my ownCowboy Bill Wattsduring my 25 years in the business, but I did not have to get into character; the character was, and still is, me.

I met Jim before he officially became George the Animal Steele, and before I became a professional wrestler. But let me tell you, if you faced him on the football field like I did, you definitely knew he was an animal!

After that explosive and violent first meeting, I wondered about him. Later, after I had entered the pro wrestling world, I saw this character out east named George the Animal Steele and wondered if he was the same guy whom I had collided with on the football field that day.

It wasnt until years later, when I was in Philadelphia doing the WWE Hall of Fame induction speech for Ernie Ladd, my dear friend and brother in the Lord, that I saw Jim/George in person again. We reconnected in a much friendlier way and laughed as we recalled how we met. Some time later, after hearing that Jim was fighting a chronic health problem that was on the verge of taking him down for the count, we became even closer.

Jim primarily wrestled during the summer, and then was a teacher and coach during the school year. So, was he two distinct people? No, I think he was just a complex person, multifaceted like a diamond and lovingly polished by his wife, Pat. She has always been there to temper Jim and give him that very special love that we need and are designed to have and need by our Creator to receive. That became even more important in more recent years, thanks to Jims deep personal relationship with Christ.

To me, the most wonderful aspect of Jims story is how Christs love can penetrate even the most hardened, prideful heart. When Jim and I were in the business, God was not a focal point for either of us. Too often, we acted as though were were gods ourselves, whether we admitted it at the time or not. Witnessing Christ reawaken Ernie Ladds spirit, and Ted DiBiases, and Jimsthat is the wonder of Christs love.

I am proud to introduce you to the story of my friend, Jim Myers, aka George the Animal Steele, my brother in Christ.

Cowboy Bill Watts

Introduction by Kenneth R. Dallafior

Throughout his entire career as a wrestler, George the Animal Steele never spoke a complete sentence. His entire vocabulary was made up of single words: Sky! Pretty! You! Ugly! He ate turnbuckles in the ring. He was hairy. His tongue was green. Fans loved it and wanted more. He was an enigma. Was this guy for real?

To me, George Steele is Jim Myers. I met Jim when I was no more than a boy, in my freshman year of high school. He was my wrestling coach and he scared the hell out of me. He scared the hell out of a lot of people. But he was the best coach a kid could have. My freshman year I didnt win a single match; by senior year, I had made it to the state championships. And Jim was there the whole time, helping me grow up and succeed when I was too young to realize that was what he was doing.

Jim was a life coach before life coaches existed. Without him, I wouldnt have spent 10 years playing professional football. I lost at the state wrestling championships in my senior year. Jim ran out to me on the floor, smacked me across the face, and said, Kenny, youre going to play college football. At that moment, he snapped me out of my shock at a devastating loss and reminded me that life goes on and that there are other things you can accomplish.

Jim has shown up in my life at the strangest of times. In the 1991 NFC Championship Game, the Detroit Lions played the Washington Redskins. I was on that Lions team and we had never made it that far into the playoffs before. After a dream season, we lost that day, and I sat heartbroken in the locker room with my teammates. At one point I looked up and there was Jim, standing in the doorway. During NFL playoff games, no one gets into the locker room except for the players and the coaches. I dont know how Jim got there, but seeing him made that loss become another lesson to take forward in life.

Youre probably wondering if I am talking about the same guy you remember from the ring. I am, and you have to read the book to find out how these two personalities came to be one. Youll be inspired. Youll laugh. Maybe youll shed a few tears as you read through the pages of this book. When youre done, you too will have a life coach in Jim.

Kenneth R. Dallafior

Former NFL offensive lineman for the San Diego Chargers and the Detroit Lions (198593)

1. Who Flunks Second Grade?

My fight with dyslexia began in earnest in grade school. If it had truly been a fight, I wouldve won. I could have balled up my fists, socked it a few times, and pounded my chest in celebration. Maybe even added a side order of turnbuckle stuffing with gravy. The letters of the alphabet that encircled every classroom would not have appeared to me as though they were hieroglyphics. The abacus that sat near the teachers desk would have wound up with a black eye, a bloodied nose, and youd see fewer teeth than in a Crest toothpaste commercial.

But I didnt know anything about dyslexia then. I could not have come close to spelling it on a Scrabble board. Dyslexia is a learning disability few teachers understood back when I was growing up in Madison Heights, a suburb about five miles north of Detroit, Michigan. When I was a kid, measuring intelligence was uncomplicated: you were smart or dumb, bright as a shining star or dim as a 15-watt lightbulb. Our grade school class was divided into different reading groups: bluebirds, redbirds, yellow birds, and brown birds. I roosted among the brown birds, which meant I could not read worth a crap.

We read aloud about fun with a couple of kids named Dick and Jane. Well, there was nothing fun about stammering. I dont care if Dick was sledding and Jane was skating or they both were playing with a dog named Spot. I did not know anyone named Dick, did not care about anyone named Jane, and thought Spot was a mighty simplistic name for a mutt.

But Dick and Jane were the main characters in reading books written by William S. Gray and Zerna Sharp. They were used in pretty much every school this side of the School of Rock to teach kids to read from the 1930s to the 1970s. The focus was to develop the Curriculum Foundation Series of books for Scott Foresman and Company.

Dick, Jane, Spot, Baby, Mother, Father, Puff the cat, and Tim the teddy bear ganged up to become the banes of my existence. Oh, see. Oh, see Jane. Funny, funny Jane. It was not the least bit funny to me. Oh, see. Oh, see Jim. Unfunny, unfunny Jim Myers.

The drawings were simplistic and so were the words, but not to me. The text was all in black and white, but nothing about reading was black and white to me. Everything fell into the gray area.

Honestly, I would have loved to have told my story and never mentioned these struggles in school. That is a chunk of my life I do not enjoy recalling. Even all these years later, the embarrassment still stings. I would have loved to have been the kid who won the spelling bee, the one who got the shiny red apple from the teacher and not vice versa. I would have been proud to have been a National Honor Society member, one of those kids who gives speeches on high school graduation day. But that would have been dishonest. Dyslexia is a part of me, and if writing about it helps someone, then it is worthwhile. If your children are having problems in school, get them help. Do not write them off as being dumb as a cinder block. Dont call them stupid as a Kardashian. Just call the school principal. Call the school psychologist. Get them some help.