The SmarK Rant for Mid-South Wrestling – 11.02.84
By Scott Keith on 20 June 2026
The SmarK Rant for Mid-South Wrestling – 11.02.84
Originally written 06.19.26
HOLY CRAP THE VAULT NERDS CAME THROUGH FOR ME AGAIN!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NM8sFIJbaqQ
But first, a plug!
Hey Scott,
Long time reader, very briefly a colleague in the IWC many years ago…
I was hoping you could post a plug for my buddie’s wrestling podcast they launched about a year and a half ago. They do reviews of PLEs, classic PPV reviews, plus topics like hot takes, fandom origin story, wrestling trivia, etc.
I’ve been on the show a few times, good podcast and really good guys. Free, no ads, looking to grow the audience.
If you could post their link, that’d be super appreciated!
https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/last-pod-standing/id1789436880
Taped from Shreveport, LA
Your hosts are Jim Ross & Joel Watts, joined to start by NEW North American champion Ernie Ladd, one of the few people large enough to suit the gigantic monstrosity of a belt Watts was using in 84. JR is pretty disgusted by Ladd’s egregious cheating in winning the belt, but Ernie denies everything and doesn’t want to be bothered about it.
So we take a trip back to Last Week, as the ref is bumped and Ladd pulls out a cord and strangles Magnum TA, before playing dead and letting Magnum have a two count. And then he takes TA’s dead body and drops a pair of legs on him, and pins him to win the title. Ladd’s “I can’t believe I got away with this shit!” grin after the win really sells it. Back at the desk, Ladd explains that he used his age and wisdom to win the title. Ernie Ladd was so delightful.
And now, if I may, a story from Barry Darsow’s book, reprinted with permission from the author, about driving with Ernie Ladd:
One thing I discovered about Ernie was that he had a tendency to be late getting places. This wasn’t a good thing, because Watts had a zero tolerance policy for tardiness, and he would pass out fines like coupon flyers. As Watts’ right-hand man, Ernie couldn’t afford to show up late – he needed to set a good example for the boys.
On one occasion, Ernie and I were headed into New Orleans from Baton Rouge. He was driving a new Lincoln Town Car that had this primitive version of a GPS installed in it. It would tell you how fast you needed to drive to reach a certain point in a specified amount of time. Convenient, if you’re the type that’s always running late.
Go figure, Ernie had us running late. Once we left the house, I knew it was going to be a white-knuckle adventure. I’d been with him before when he got pulled over for speeding, so I’d seen the man push the pedal to the metal out of necessity.
On this occasion, we were legitimately going 100 miles an hour. Ernie’s passing other cars, and navigating curves like the tallest Andretti son. He’s trying to tell me a story from the driver’s seat, and I can barely hear it over the freakin’ vrooooooom.
“Did I ever tell you about the Strap match I had against Ox Baker in Atlanta?” At least, that’s what I *think* he said.
Meanwhile, I’m too busy staring wide-eyed at the road ahead, trying to remember the words to The Lord’s Prayer.
That’s when I saw the light.
Red and blue lights, in fact.
In my side mirror, I saw a Louisiana State Trooper rapidly closing in on us. Ernie noticed the cop too.
“Ah damn it! I’m gonna lose my license!”
“Ernie, you were going 100 in a 55.”
“I can’t lose my license. Can’t get another ticket.”
“Well, maybe if you just explain–“
“Can’t get another ticket.”
It was starting to dawn on me that Ernie didn’t intend for this to be like any other traffic stop. If he even intended to stop at all!
“Ernie, just pull over. It’s not worth going to jail for.”
He just sighed and slowly pulled the car over. We settled on a freeway shoulder overlooking a steep embankment.
I just stared out the window at the swampy river below, letting out my own exasperated sigh. I didn’t know if Watts was gonna dock my pay (guilt by association), flip out on Ernie, or what. I just knew no good could come from this.
Ernie rolled down the window as the officer approached. At first, it seemed like it might be our lucky day, because this young cop happened to recognize the speeding motorist.
“Hey, aren’t you ‘Big Cat’ Ernie Ladd?”
“Yes, yes I am.”
Any idea of luck was fleeting, though, when the cop dutifully (yet politely) started reading Ernie the riot act. Ernie tried to explain that he was in a hurry to get to that night’s card, but Johnny Law just shook his head.
He said, “I understand Mr. Ladd, but that was just way too fast. You were going almost double the limit.” Then he asked Ernie to step out of the car.
Ernie turned to me as he unfastened his seatbelt, and gave me this subtle wink. I had no idea what he was about to attempt, but I was simultaneously intrigued and petrified.
Ernie slowly opened the car door, and he took his sweet old time stepping out of the vehicle. He was selling his bad knee and his bad back to the cop. Really biting his lip to give the impression that he’s sheer arthritis from head to toe.
I figure he’s just trying to curry empathy. Not the worst idea.
So after what feels like ten minutes (but was probably closer to a minute-plus), Ernie steps up out of the Town Car, letting all of his joints pop at once. Sounded like somebody walking across a sheet of bubble wrap.
But it didn’t end there. Ernie started limping toward the back of the car, with the officer following.
What the hell were they doing?
I heard Ernie say, “There’s just something wrong with my tire, I don’t know what it is.”
Then as I watched in the mirror, I saw Ernie suddenly crouch down, favoring his knee.
“Ah damn, Charley horse!”
Then Ernie fell.
Not just to the ground.
But down the embankment.
He fell 20 or 30 feet, rolling like a tumbleweed down into the muddy swamp below! I jumped out of the car, right as the cop started skidding down after him!
“Mr. Ladd!” the cop screamed. “Hang on, I’m coming!”
I swear to God, I watched Ernie Ladd tumble with increasing speed, landing with a sizable splash in the muddy waters!
The horrified officer tore after the half-crippled Ernie, skidding down the sloped earth. When he reached Ernie, he gently helped drag him out of the muck to his feet. Ernie’s hair was frazzled, full of mud, and his clothes were caked in it as well.
I wanted to help, but I was too stupefied by what I just witnessed. All I could do was stand there slack-jawed, silently praying that Ernie wasn’t seriously hurt.
The policeman helped Ernie slowly walk up the embankment, taking painful steps all the way. “My knee, my knee,” I could hear Ernie groaning on the walk up. I could see his lip quiver, as though he were fighting back tears.
Finally, they reached the car, and I helped usher Ernie back to the driver’s side. He was gasping and moaning, and his clothes were just filthy.
The cop, meanwhile, was white as a sheet. He almost watched a man die, after all.
Ernie muttered aloud, with a little crack in his whine, “Aw man, we gotta get to town, Barry!”
The cop just nervously nodded.
“Yeah, um, why don’t you fellas go ahead and drive along. Just, try to take it slow, okay?”
Ernie and I agreed and I helped Ernie into the driver’s seat. The cop beelined back to his squad car and got the hell out of there.
Me, I didn’t even know what to say. As I hurriedly made my way back to the passenger seat, there weren’t any words.
Though Ernie came up with a few.
After I shut my door, I turned to Ernie, who was snickering to himself.
I was totally confused.
Then Ernie turned the key, and shifted his eyes in my direction with a big Cheshire cat grin on his mud-splattered face.
“Bet you never seen anybody take a bump like that!”
He then took off going a much more conservative speed (only about 70 in a 55), letting out a pure lion’s roar of laughter.
What the actual fuck was going on?
I just watched a near 50-year-old man (one shy of seven feet tall) voluntarily take a 30-foot barrel roll down the side of a man-made hill, just to get out of a speeding ticket.
I learned that day that Ernie Ladd was a master of “working” people.
I soon came to realize that in wrestling, you’re prone to working *everybody*. You don’t have to be in the ring to put on an act, in order to achieve whatever your goal is. You’re a performer first and foremost. And the ends always justify the means.
I also learned that Ernie Ladd was utterly insane. A kind, fatherly person with a big heart and a nurturing spirit, but insane nonetheless.
I mean, I thought he was crazy when he dragged me out of bed at ungodly hours to play cribbage. That was just the tip of the iceberg!
Also last week, Bill Watts interviews a bloodied and beaten Jim Duggan on his way to the hospital, after Ted Dibiase beat him to within an inch of his life.
Dr. Death Steve Williams v. Gary Cortinelli
Young Gary is “The Italian Stallion” and he’s JACKED compared to even a few years later. Gary tries a sunset flip and Williams clocks him to block it and yells for Duggan for getting a two count and picking him up. Doc with a bearhug and Gary fights out, but he tries a bodypress and Doc hits him with an Oklahoma Stampede at 1:52. I guess all that spaghetti and no cardio made Gary lose his muscle definition.
Hercules Hernandez v. Thomas Ivy
I’m not sure why Jim Cornette has a mask at this point but I love it. Also Ivy has his hair cut like Mr. T, but I mean lots of people were into Mr. T in late 1984 so you can’t really blame him. Herc puts him down with a back elbow and drops a knee on him, and then chokes him out and drops him on the top rope before finishing with the SKINAMARINKYDINKYDOO sleeper at 2:00.
Buddy Landel joins Boyd, and Skandor Akbar is already disappointed in the lack of results from their partnership thus far. Buddy notes that Akbar has paid him a considerable amount of what some people would call “blood money” up front, but he wants a little more consideration before he can finish the job. So Akbar gives him a gold Rolex and expects whatever deed to be DONE by next week. And Buddy is now happy and will do it next week, whatever that is.
Buddy Landel & Hacksaw Butch Reed v. Steve Brinson & Mike Jackson
Jackson gets some shine to start as usual, hitting Buddy with some armdrags, but he goes for a rollup and Buddy grabs the ropes to block while Reed yells at him. Finally Reed takes things in his own hands and hits Mike with a cheapshot, allowing Buddy to take over with a backdrop. Reed comes in with a backbreaker for two and Buddy adds a slam, but he misses a knee because he continues to be a screwup, allowing Brinson to get a tag. So Reed has to come in AGAIN and deal with this shit, hitting Brinson with a back suplex and gorilla press, at which point Buddy tags himself back in and drops the corkscrew elbow to finish at 4:15. Buddy as a never-do-well screwup is of course quite close to home.
Ted Dibiase v. MASTER G
Master G was yet another attempt to make a Junkyard Dog, although of course George Welles was no JYD. They fight for the lockup while Butch Reed yells at G from ringside, but Dibiase gets some shots in the corner. G takes him down with a headlock and Dibiase bails to the floor to think it over. Back in the ring, he goes for a piledriver and Master G backdrops out of it and hits him with dropkicks and a backdrop. Dibiase goes for a figure-four and G kicks out of it and sends Dibiase to the floor with a huge bump over the top, but G chases and Reed attacks him, but G stands tall and fights him off. This allows Dibiase to load up the ISOTONER OF DEATH and knock out G in the ring, and the figure-four finishes at 4:24.
The Missing Link v. Magnum TA
TA runs him into the corner and chases him to the floor, where Link smashes his head into the stairs to take out his frustrations. Back in the ring, Link hits him with the headbutt and then adds one to the back before going to the middle rope with a flying head smash like he’s Bonk the Caveman. TA fights back with ALL AMERICAN RIGHTS and a dropkick and dodges a charging Link, who collides with Akbar. And the belly to belly finishes at 2:00 as the crowd goes crazy. Well that’s the way to heat him up again after losing the title last week.
Mid-South TV title: Exotic Adrian Street v. Bill Dundee
Dundee was on the way out as booker at this point after a hell of a run, if my timeline is correct. Probably not, I’m pretty old. Joel Watts complains about other shows and all the mismatches on TV, which is a very pointed remark towards a certain Titanic promotion. Street prances around, but Dundee catapults him into the corner and goes to work on the arm. Street slugs him down in the corner and puts the boots to him, and then elbows him down and splashes him for two. Dundee fights back and tosses Street out of the ring by the ponytail, but Street continues slugging away on him. Ref is bumped and Dundee gets an airplane spin for a visual pinfall, but Miss Linda comes in and sprays Bill with perfume and puts Street on top for the pin at 4:18 to retain.
NEXT WEEK: The Rock N Roll Express have a big announcement! Skandor Akbar has a press conference! The Guerreros wrestle! Not like those OTHER GUYS with endless squash matches, am I right?
I love this show and I missed it so much. NEVER LEAVE ME AGAIN, BILL WATTS!