I first learned the wrestling business from the Farhat family at the turn of the millennium before the passing of the Original Sheik in early 2003. Under the Farhat’s I learned to bump, cut a promo, and build a persona in the back of the auto repair garage owned by the Sheik’s son Tom Farhat. The ring is still set up surrounded by barely legal posters & classic Sheik photos.
One of the biggest influences on me, and somebody I considered a teacher, was Sabu. He would give me tips and advice on anything I did. When I was doing color commentary for the Farhat TV he would tell me how better to get the talents over. When I was in the ring he would guide me on ring psychology, better ways to get over with crowds, and how to make the littlest things seem big. Even before he would go out for a match, if I was coming back through the curtain, he would pull me aside for a second & teach me something. It was just the way he was.
Sabu lived a few miles from my house, and I would often ride around to shows & events with him. This was always a great time to learn the ins & outs of the business. Traditionally in the car it was me, Sabu, and our friend, Shaffee. One of those times was crossing over to Canada for a show promoted by Scott D’amore. A show we almost didn’t make.
The three of us met up at the border before crossing to pile into one car. We left my car behind in favor of Sabu’s Cadillac because it was roomy & he already had his gear packed in. The thing is after 9/11, if you’re of Arabic decent & driving, the border searches aren’t exactly random, but mandatory. So as we tried to cross into Canada, we had to pull into customs for a search of the car. Something that is always entertaining when trying to explain why grown men have suitcases full of shiny pants & rail road spikes.
These stops take a few minutes, and during the wait Sabu & Shaffee decided to have a dip to pass the time. The only problem was that Sabu left his spitter in the car. We waited outside the car, and watched the border patrols faces contort as they held up our tights. In a natural reaction to having a mouth full of tobacco, Sabu turned his head & spit. Before the tobacco hit the ground the border patrol was up in arms. The lady slammed the trunk shut & screamed at all three of us.
She told us that spitting on Canadian soil was a declaration of war. That our disrespect for their country was enough to cause a military action against the United States. Yup, Sabu had declared war on Canada on behalf of America. We were then quickly ushered into our car & forced to turn around back from America; told never to return. Yet we still had to make the show.
We made our way back to America and loaded into my car with Sabu tucked into the backseat. I. being white, drove because our chances of crossing would be better. Of course with me at the helm the only trouble we had was dealing with my driving once on the Canadian side. It took us about ten seconds to cross with me behind the wheel, because as I said those random checks ain’t that random.
The three of us made it to the show, and from what I remember it was another good BCW event. On our way back I drove again, and again we had no issues getting back over. The only issue being my driving as Sabu always commented, the only time he feared for his life in the wrestling business is when I was behind the wheel. I don’t even know if our names are on lists in Canada, but for a moment in some canucks fit of rage, Sabu almost started a war. Now that’s EXTREME!!!!
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