Stan and Mario Galento came up with an idea to please the fans and pull a little "rib" on yours truly. After I pulled another fast one on the crowd favorites, the promoter came out and said that he would make sure that I couldn't interfere in the match he had booked for the following week. I figured they would have me handcuffed to someone or put me in a cage. Boy, was I ever wrong!

When I walked into the dressing room the next week, everyone was laughing. I found out that I was booked in the semi-main against Stan. Yeah, all 6-feet, 175 pounds of me against 7-feet, 500 pounds (that's what the card said) Giant Frazier. I realized I had been had. Well, two could play that game. Being from Memphis, I know a few things about ribs myself. The match was suppose to go 10 minutes with Stan hitting me with a boot to the face and then the leg drop for the pin. For the first 8 minutes of the match I RAN from him. I was in and out of the ring, sticking my tongue out at him going "Nah, nah! Big butt, you can't beat me if you can't catch me!" I could see I was starting to tick Stan off so I thought it best to take it home. When Stan shot me into the ropes and hit me with the boot I braced myself for his ham hock of a leg. It never came! He reached down and snatched me up into a full gorilla press. I was so high up in the air I saw ducks flying by. When I hit the mat I bounced three feet back up into the air. When I hit the mat the second time I looked up just in time to see the big leg drop headed for my chest. As the ref counted to 3, I heard that infamous chuckle of Stan's and then him saying, "I like a little bit more meat on my ribs, Grasshopper!" I knew then that I was off the hook, but this green-horned, southern kid was taught a great lesson that night.