I have spent most of my life around wrestling.
I have stood at ringside with a camera in my hand. I have talked to wrestlers in locker rooms, hotel lobbies, airports, and offices. Most of the time, I was there to ask questions and write the story.
This time was different.
In January 1980, I looked at the American Wrestling Association not as a writer, but as a man who might have to run it.
So I checked where the AWA stood.
The company was still strong in the Great Lakes region. That was the home base. That was the place where the AWA name still carried real weight.
The Midwest was next, but popularity there was lower. That told me we had work to do. You cannot call yourself a major force if your second American market is far behind your best one.
The Southwest, Tri State and Mid Atlantic numbers were not dead, but they were not enough either.
Canada looked useful. Manitoba and several other Canadian areas stood out. That mattered. Good wrestling fans are good wrestling fans, no matter which side of the border they live on.
The AWA was regional company at that time. I thought that to grow, we needed more than one strong area. We needed at least two more American regions, with the same popularity and importance as in the Great Lakes, to reach the next level.
That gave me the first job.
Protect the Great Lakes. Build the Midwest. Then find one more market that can become real money.
After that, I looked at the roster.
That is where the job became serious.
The AWA had names. Real names. Men the fans knew, and men who could still draw if used the right way.
Nick Bockwinkel was there. So was Verne Gagne. Greg Gagne, Jesse Ventura, Adrian Adonis, Bobby Heenan, Mad Dog Vachon, Jerry Blackwell, Dino Bravo, Baron Von Raschke, The Crusher, Wahoo McDaniel, and more.
That is not an empty cupboard.
But a roster like that brings pressure. You have veterans who expect respect. You have younger names who need direction. You have talkers, fighters, champions, brawlers, and men who can still teach a crowd how to care.
That is what I was looking for.
Not just stars. Pieces.
Who can main event now? Who can talk? Who can lose and still stay strong? Who can carry a young wrestler through a match? Who can make fans angry enough to buy a ticket next month?
Those are the questions you ask when the paper is in your hand and the building has to be filled.
So, after checking all the pieces available to me, I made my choice.
I became the owner of the American Wrestling Association.
That still feels strange to say.
I had written about promoters for years. I had watched them smile, sweat, lie, argue, and count the house. Now I was not just watching anymore.
I had the book.
The AWA has history. It has pride. It has fans who still believe in it. But pride does not sell tickets by itself, and history does not win tomorrow’s fight.
So here is the plan.
Keep the Great Lakes strong. Push hard in the Midwest. Use Canada where it helps. Build around the right names, not just the old names.
I want champions who feel important. I want grudges people understand. I want main events that sound big when you say them out loud.
There will be mistakes.
There always are in wrestling.
But I know this much. The AWA is not going to sit still while the business changes around it.
Not if I can help it.