Sports

Pontiac, Michigan, March 29, 1987.

The story goes like this…

André the Giant is challenging Hulk Hogan for the World Wrestling Federation title. 93,173 people are crammed together near the corner of Michigan Highway and Opdyke Road, in a town of 70,000, 30 miles North West of Detroit, to witness one of the biggest pro wrestling matches of all-time. Not only for the record-crowd size but for what the match represents, the home of the National Football League’s Detroit Lions and the National Basketball Association’s Detroit Pistons, the Pontiac Silverdome, is the place to be. Much like André, it’s the largest of its kind and a great fit for a match like this.

André versus Hogan is the perfect match on the perfect stage. The challenger, from Grenoble in the French Alps, stands 7 foot and 4 inches tall, weighing 520 pounds. The champion, from Venice Beach, California, is 6 foot 6 and 302 pounds. Both are undefeated and facing each other for the very first time. Will Hogan be able to slam the Giant, let alone beat him? Will the Giant end Hogan’s 39-month title reign? Every question is going to be answered at WrestleMania, the showcase of the immortals, the third such event organized by Vincent Kennedy McMahon, but the first to bring the company to this world-wide phenomenon level. WrestleMania III’s slogan “Bigger, Better, Badder” suits to a T.

Ever since arriving in North America, André had been the biggest attraction in pro wrestling. In almost every interview, readers and viewers have heard that André came from France in the early 70s, and after a brief stint in Canada went on to rule the wrestling world, managed by the biggest impresario in the sport, Vincent James McMahon: André was his vision.

A decade later, when McMahon’s son took over the company, he chose Hulk Hogan as the new future future of the business and, as the company’s history goes, André and Hogan were best friends. André was even part of the celebration when Hogan defeated The Iron Sheik for the WWF World Heavyweight championship at Madison Square Garden in 1984--he famously poured champagne on Hogan’s head.

Since becoming champion, Hogan had defended the title against almost every bad guy in the promotion: Rowdy Roddy Piper, Paul Orndorff, Big John Studd, King Kong Bundy, Jesse Ventura… the list goes on and on and on. A couple of times a year, Hulk and André would team to face adversity that one man alone could not overcome. André, it seems, was too much of a novelty to be considered for a championship match, and seven different wrestlers had won the crown jewel since he started working for McMahon. Hogan was simply the latest to jump ahead of him.

And this is what tonight is about: André being overshadowed by Hogan, not getting the respect he deserves. Fans in the Silverdome had already seen so much. Pretty boys Rick Martel and Tom Zenk opened Wrestlemania III showing real fire; Brutus Beefcake was evicted from the Dream Team, replaced by Dino Bravo; Ricky Steamboat defeated Randy Savage in a match no one will ever forget; and Jim Duggan and Nicolai Volkoff just had their own version of the Cold War. Even Edouard Carpentier, André’s old friend from France is providing commentary in French.

The building is rumbling as Mr. Baseball Bob Uecker introduces Entertainment Tonight’s Mary Hart as the guest timekeeper. With former enemy Bobby “The Brain” Heenan by his side, André comes down the very long alley between the backstage area and the ring to a chorus of boos on a motorized cart made to look like a miniature ring. He remains stonily indifferent to the debris thrown at him and once again enters his battlefield by stepping over the top rope. This is the pinnacle of his career. Backstage, Hogan is nervous. 

“What if André goes into business for himself? What if he decides he’s winning tonight?”

If that were the case, there’s nothing the Hulkster could do.

Hogan’s “Real American” entrance music finally hits. In better shape, he walks from the curtain to the ring, cheared on by the thousands of Hulkamaniacs in attendance.

The tension is real. The two biggest stars of the last decade are in the middle of the ring, and everybody in attendance or watching on closed-circuit TV around the world are on the edge of their seats. After just a few seconds, Hogan tries to slam the Giant, something that no one has ever been able to do. But he’s denied by André, who covers the champion for a two-and-three-quarter count by referee Joey Marella. After taking the beating of a lifetime, Hogan comes back from the dead, slams André and hits the leg drop for the one, two, three.

Not only did Hogan win the match and keep his title, but he also dealt André his very first defeat. 

Or did he?

“The Hogan-André match at WrestleMania III and the Bret-Shawn match in Montreal in 1997 are the two most important matches in the history of modern wrestling,” argues journalist and founder of the Wrestling Observer Newsletter, Dave Meltzer.

Yet, this match and everything surrounding it is the culmination of every myth and legend you ever heard about André coming to a head, on the biggest stage he ever performed on.

André wasn’t 7 foot 4 inches tall, at any point in his life. He didn’t weigh 520 pounds. And he wasn’t from Grenoble or even the French Alps. This was not André and Hogan’s first match and André was lifted off his feet way before Hogan even stepped foot in a ring for the first time. Montreal was more important to his career than any other biography written or filmed has ever shown. Even the number of people in attendance that night in Pontiac was exaggerated.

However, one thing was true: the magnitude of that encounter was undeniable. Depending on age and knowledge of pro wrestling at the time, fans either loved it or thought it was a poor performance. Yet, everyone agrees that the influence it had on the future of the WWF is immeasurable. André’s health was declining and it was the right time to officially pass the torch, even if Hulk had already been in the driver seat for a while. André knew this match would make him a legend beyond his time. In a business where timing is everything, that feud opened the door to so many great things to come for the WWF, especially when everyone involved in wrestling was trying to come up with the next big idea in the ever-expanding beginning of the PPV era. The André and Hogan feud was, in fact, an important piece of what would come next—so much so that people may still not even realize.

In 1987, the biggest lie about André wasn't his height or his undefeated record. It was the fact that he had lost so much strength he had trouble catching a teenage actress in a movie. Even if photographs showing he could easily lift five women at the same time had made him a living mythical being, acromegaly, the ailment that had made him a superstar known around the world, was catching up to him. The body that made him famous was betraying him slowly and in pernicious ways every single day. Condemned to be André the Giant 24 hours a day, seven days a week, he was likely depressed. Sad, at very least, that he couldn't go anywhere without being looked at, touched, or pointed at. He was 40 years old and he knew that point he wouldn't see 50.

From Paris to Montreal, from Tokyo to New York City, he transcended the world of professional wrestling. The Seven Wonders of the World, like the Pyramid of Giza or the Colossus of Rhodes always had something mysterious about them, something mythical, a part of some legend or fairy-tale. André’s real life and true career were the same, filled with myths and overshadowed by his larger-than-life character and personality.

On March 29, 1987, André probably wasn’t the better, or even the badder, but he was definitely the bigger. Much like WrestleMania today, André René Roussimoff was at one point the greatest spectacle in sports entertainment.

He was, in fact, the Eighth Wonder of The World…

Fittingly, it was the Rocket who ended up with the Stanley Cup clincher in the 3-1 Game 5 victory that kicked off the first of a record five straight Stanley Cup triumphs for the Canadiens. Fans, who had paid $1.75 for tickets, began flooding the ice after the players had shook hands, while Blake was lifted onto the shoulders of Butch Bouchard and Jack Leclair for a lap of honor. Blake waived his fedora and saluted the crowd before his grin grew even larger when Bouchard brought him in for a sip of champagne from the Cup. Bouchard had only played Game 5 because Blake sensed the club would close out the series and he wanted his captain – a man who had postponed retirement for one season at Blake’s request – to accept the trophy on behalf of the team.

Inside the dressing room, Toe quietly made the rounds shaking hands and thanking each of his players as champagne corks popped all around him. Mayor Jean Drapeau, accompanied by two policemen, arrived in the dressing room handing out cigars and announcing the team would be welcomed at the Helene de Champlain on St. Helen’s Island for a special banquet following the victory parade in a few days. That forced a number of players looking to leave for Florida to stretch their plans. Selke lauded Blake’s work in keeping the club focused all season, and Blake admitted afterward few changes to the roster would be needed the following season.

"Those newspaper men really put a lot of great pressure on the club when they called us to finish in first place--after all, I thought Detroit had won the league last year. They not only picked us to finish first place but to win the Cup,” Blake said in his distinct voice, which was high in accentuation but not in pitch, akin to a man with a fresh lozenge lodged in his throat. “I thought it put a lot of pressure on the boys, but they came through whenever they had to win an important game. They played well under pressure.

Toe marveled as 250,000 fans packed the city streets for what turned out to be a 6-1/2-hour parade celebration. It was a season Toe would never forget. The Canadiens felt Blake’s mastery had shaped the beginning of what was certain to be a prolonged period of success.

WCW had absorbed the old Mid-Atlantic Wrestling and turned Jim Crockett’s Starrcade into its own premier annual event. It took place in December, far from McMahon’s early spring WrestleMania. In the 1996 edition, Roddy Piper settled the old score once and for all. He caught “Hollywood” Hulk Hogan in a sleeper and won Starrcade’s main event. During the bout, Hogan had put him in an abdominal stretch, which made Roddy’s large hip-surgery scar fully visible to the cameras. Roddy had asked him to do that, and also to hike up his trunks to show it off clearly. At another moment, Roddy hopped around on that leg to further make an important point. Not McMahon nor any other promoter could ever cast doubt on Roddy’s ability to wrestle on that titanium hip.

Before Roddy put the sleeper on Hogan, an imposing new member of the NWO had tried to interfere in the match, attacking Roddy and lifting him several feet off the mat for his signature chokeslam. The Giant was the biggest wrestler to hit the big time since Andre (in fact, Roddy escaped his grasp by dipping into his old giant-fighting toolkit, biting him on the nose to make him let go). Behind the scenes, the seven-foot rookie and the much smaller veteran had made fast friends.

“There’s a story Big Show tells in front of God and everyone,” said Roddy (The Giant would change his name to Big Show when later wrestling in the WWE). Big Show told us the story himself.

“I was green as grass. I was driving in on a Sunday night into Wisconsin and I got in really late.” Tired from the road, he went to the hotel’s front desk. The lady working the night shift said, “You’re so big, I’m going to give you a suite.” Grateful, he went up to the room. It was large and full of amenities. He went to the bathroom and splashed his face with cold water. “I was drying my face and I look and there’s a leather jacket hanging on one of the chairs.” Figuring a previous occupant had left the jacket, he dismissed it and went to the bedroom. As he opened the French doors he heard somebody snoring, “like the entire room was being sawed in half.” On the nightstand was a bottle of NyQuil, and face-down on the bed, butt naked, was Roddy Piper.

Oh my God, he thought, that’s Roddy Piper. This is awkward. They’d never met, but he’d grown up watching Roddy on television.

“So I quietly shut the doors, took my bags, meandered back downstairs. I said, ‘I’m sorry, ma’am, but there’s somebody in that room.’” She apologized and gave him another.

The next day he went to the WCW Nitro set and saw Roddy backstage.

“I think nobody understands what an incredibly nice guy he was all the time,” said Show. “I mean so very humble, so very polite, and just set an example of what a superstar should be . . . the kindest, nicest person you could ever be around.”

“Hi, I’m Roddy Piper,” he said to the towering kid.

“I met you last night,” said The Giant.

“You did?! When?” said Roddy, slapping his head in embarrassment for forgetting.

The Giant told him the whole story and Roddy smiled at him. “Ah, brother, you could have had me last night!”

“I remember thinking to myself as a young kid, about twentyfour years old, I go, ‘Oh . . . whaaat?’” As The Giant settled into the business and got to know the habits of his fellow wrestlers, he realized what Roddy had meant. “I could have ribbed him to death. I could have stolen his jacket. I could have written all over him with a Sharpie.”

Every time they saw each other for the next twenty years, Roddy would wag his finger at him and smile, “Brother, you could have had me!”

“As I got older in the business, there’s no way in hell I would have ever ribbed Roddy Piper anyway,” he said, because the payback “would have probably put me in therapy! You don’t mess with the old-timers like that.”

A middle-aged wrestler, now, the kind of star who used to beat him up many years ago, Roddy was instead winning fans among the new generation, even as he was losing the very first of the generation that raised him.