Fall 1985

Memphis, Tennessee

Every muscle ached.

Not just his muscles, his ligaments were sore.

Not just his muscles and ligaments, his bones were in pain.

Not just his muscles, ligaments and bones, Glen’s spirit was nearly broken.

For the past year, Glen had been in the gym constantly, slowly acclimating his body to the slams and tumbles of a professional wrestler, but it had been far from easy.

“You got this, Glen!” yelled his long-time trainer, Kirby Mattison, as Glen laid on the bench and pushed the rack of weights up from his chest.

The old man had been nothing short of loyal to his prized pupil; everywhere around his Memphis wrestling facility, Mattison’s Mat, Kirby had pictures of Glen. Most of the pictures were of Glen competing in now-legendary matches, or pictures of Glen and Kirby in the midst of his first training sessions.

Either way, the walls Mattison’s Mat had become a tribute to its greatest product.

Glen certainly didn’t feel like a great product at the moment. Despite his achievements, coming back from this knee injury had proven much harder than he imagined. The past few years of doting on his young daughter, Goldie, and living the family life had dulled both his body and his senses.

The weights clanked back onto the rack, and Kirby watched as Glen sat up from the bench with sweat dripping from his head. Glen grabbed a towel and wiped his brow before looking down and shaking his head.

“I don’t know, Kirby,” said Glen while panting from the exertion. “Maybe this comeback was all a pipedream.”

The veteran wrestling trainer shook his head and took a seat on the bench next to his star pupil.

“Glen,” began Kirby. “When you walked in that gym my first day, I knew you had ‘the look’. And I knew you had the potential, but it wasn’t until working with you for a full year that I knew you had the heart.”

The former world superstar, still at the young age of 35, looked over to his trusted advisor while sweat dripped from his brow.

Kirby continued, “You had a nasty injury, now that’s true, but you can overcome and get back to where you were. I guarantee it. Another month or two here and I’m going to turn you lose. Got it?”

Both of the men sat silently on the weight bench in the Memphis wrestling gym for a moment. In the background could be heard the sounds of two wrestlers perfecting their craft, or other wrestlers hitting weights the same as Glen.

Finally, Glen looked back at his coach.

“Okay, Kirby, you’ve got me this far. Let’s keep going.”

Summer 1986

Tallahassee, Florida

Glen could hear the roar of the crowd. It was his big night.

Nearly four years after ‘the accident’, Glen was preparing to hear his name called to walk down the ramp and enter the ring. Backstage the rest of the wrestling roster had gathered around him.

Each, whether they had ever met him or not, gave him a handshake and respectful nod.

Thought in the back of his head was full of doubt.

He used to be the world’s most recognizable professional wrestler, but the late 1970s and early 1980s felt so far away.

Could he still perform?

Could he still win?

Glen thought for a moment about what his life had come to since he stopped wrestling.

No more drinking. No more womanizing and cheating. No more lies.

His daughter Goldie.

Glen had everything he actually needed in life between the strength of Charlene’s support and Goldie’s inspiration.

“And welcome BACK to the ring…. GOOOOLLLDDDEENNNN GLENNNN MILLLEERRRR!”

The roar was deafening, and all of the wrestlers backstage covered their ears in reaction.

But not Glen.

He was back.