“He’s not going to be successful.”
There’s a long list of reasons Mick Foley never should’ve accomplished what he did.
In an industry of rock-hard abs, bulging biceps, and movie-star looks, he was the exact opposite.
Sporting a disheveled look, a dad-bod (before it was cool), long unkempt hair, baggy t-shirts, and tights, Foley was not a traditional wrestler by any means.
Instead of graceful high-flying moves, he used a repertoire of illegal objects like steel chairs and flaming tables.
WWE’s Vince McMahon deemed him “not marketable”.
Throughout the long and crazy history of pro wrestling, there have been few stories as improbable as Foley’s.
Despite endless rejection, brutal injuries, and years of work for little pay, he refused to quit on his dream.
Born on June 7th, 1965, Michael Francis Foley and his family relocated from Indiana to Long Island a short time later.
One night, while a student at SUNY Cortland, he hitchhiked to Madison Square Garden to see a wrestling match.
Sitting in the front row, he watched Jimmy “Superfly” Snuka launch himself off the top of a steel cage onto Don Muraco.
That was the moment he decided to become a professional wrestler.
Hungry to learn the business, he spent countless hours driving to shows, where he earned a modest $10 working with the ring crew.
On June 23rd, 1983, “Cactus Jack” – one of Foley’s many in-ring personas – made his debut for a small independent program at an armory in Clarksburg, West Virginia.
The name was a tribute to his father Jack and eventually became one of Foley’s great creations.
After bouncing around from high school gyms to dirty bingo halls, scraping by on a few dollars per match, Foley eventually made his way to the then-WWF in the summer of 1986.
As with many wrestlers, Foley had to claw his way to the top by losing to the company’s top stars.
Of his first five WWF matches, three found him getting pinned in less than 90 seconds.
The next five years saw him working for the alphabet soup that is the independent wrestling scene, making a name for himself with a unique style that went along with his equally unique look.
Although he won a number of championships, both individual and tag team, he still struggled to make the mainstream shows until he joined World Championship Wrestling in 1989.
It was the first time he ever earned a guaranteed contract.
But the deal came to an end less than a year later.
After a falling out with management, Foley was forced to return to the smaller organizations and head overseas to Japan.
Something had to change.
Back on the independent circuit, he started building a following with hardcore fans.
The ones who craved the extreme – barbed wire, stretchers, and steel cage matches.
Although choreographed, the level of violence and willingness to sacrifice his body once again drew the attention of WCW execs.
Matches against Sting and Big Van Vader brought in rave reviews as Foley transitioned from a maniacal villain to a fan favorite.
His willingness to put his body on the line found him suffering numerous injuries including concussions, broken bones, and even a torn-off ear.
“I was in a match with the great Leon White (Vader) in Munich, Germany [and] things took a turn for the worst,” Foley said.
“I got my head caught up in the ropes, I wedged my way out, my ear did not make the journey with me and I wanted it stated for the record, we finished the match. I asked (referee) Gary Michael Cappetta (who had retrieved the ear), what it looked like, and he said, ‘It looked like a piece of uncooked chicken with tape on it.’”
After leaving WCW again in 1994, Foley returned to Japan where he took part in several hardcore matches that left many fans slightly disturbed.
Matches featuring flaming barbed wire objects, beds of nails, and exploding boards.
As for how much money he earned for those nights of torture?
Only a few hundred bucks.
It certainly wasn’t enough to make him financially secure or even cover his medical costs.
Without the flashy moves or the complex technical skillset, Foley made his name in the industry with his seeming intolerance to pain and willingness to do whatever he could to put on a memorable show.
Regardless of his methods, Foley’s style and gritty performances started to win over audiences around the world, especially those looking for “more”.
During the 80s, 90s, and 2000s, guys like Vince McMahon and Eric Bischoff controlled the wrestling industry.
For the most part, they hand-picked the wrestlers they wanted to push as main-event stars.
Foley struggled to be that guy.
Seen as a glorified stuntman, he was never considered a contender for a serious championship or main-event spotlight.
That was until the fans started to show their overwhelming support for him – an underdog they could relate to.
When Mick Foley arrived in the WWE in 1996 – 10 years after his debut with the company as a jobber – McMahon, ever the control freak, cast Cactus Jack aside, creating a more deranged character in “Mankind” with his patched-together leather mask.
As for who Foley can thank for his second run with the company, look no further than Good Ol’ JR (Jim Ross), whom Foley had a connection with during their time in WCW.
In addition to being an announcer, Ross was also the Head of Talent Relations at the time.
While Ross knew what he had, McMahon was skeptical as Foley had failed in three previous attempts with the company.
“You need to know, JR, what it feels like to have a talent break your heart. Because you’re really emotionally invested in this guy,” McMahon told him.
“You wanna bring him in, I can see you’re very serious, almost hell-bent on this. But you need to understand what it’s like to have a talent break your heart because he’s not going to be successful.”
As even more proof that McMahon had little faith in the hardcore wrestler, Foley’s first contract was once again peanuts compared to what he was putting his body through.
“I was guaranteed $25 a night,” Foley said.
“The contract that I signed for WWE, I was guaranteed five matches a year at $150 (per match) for five years. So if they had chosen not to push me, I could have been in a position where I couldn’t go anywhere else. I’m locked in for five years. But this is the place to go, WWE.”
While he debuted as a bad guy who feuded with many of the WWE’s top heroes, Mankind slowly drew pity from fans. Pity that turned into admiration and respect.
A year later, Foley, ever the creative genius, introduced a third persona, “Dude Love” – a fun-loving hippie polar opposite to Cactus Jack and Mankind that Foley originally created when he was a young wrestling hopeful jumping off the roof of his house.
Balancing three different characters, he managed to connect to a wide variety of wrestling fans in a way that others couldn’t.
Rather than being an invincible hero or indestructible villain, Foley’s characters were an extension of his real-life struggles to be accepted. Each expressed human feelings: pain, struggle, and self-doubt.
Injury after injury began to take a toll on Foley’s brain and body (that’s what happens when you take 11 unprotected chair shots to the dome from the Rock), forcing him into retirement in 2000.
While he made sporadic appearances in Ring of Honor and the WWE in a non-wrestling capacity, Foley could not and would not stay away from the ring for long, making a return in the 2004 Royal Rumble.
Four years and multiple injuries later, he again left the WWE, this time heading to TNA.
Few would be surprised that Foley, despite his body falling apart at the seams, continued to wrestle in TNA for three years before once again heading back for another stint with the WWE.
In 2012, he eventually listened to the medical professionals who deemed him unfit for competition, hanging up his boots after competing in one last Royal Rumble.
A member of the WWE Hall of Fame, “The Hardcore Legend” who struggled to gain acceptance in the wrestling industry left the business as a 3x WWF Champion, 8x WWF Tag Team Champion, and a TNA World Champion (among other indie titles).
He went from driving 16 hours to wrestle in bingo halls for a couple of bucks to fighting in the main event at WrestleMania.
Foley’s journey from the bottom to the top proved that success doesn’t always have to follow a traditional path – or require a traditional look.
But rather by finding your own way of breaking the mold and redefining it.
“While I was preparing to wrestle in front of 64,000 people at the Tokyo Dome in 1995, I couldn’t stop thinking about my return match in Philadelphia in a bingo hall in front of 800 people. You never let the size of a venue or crowd define the importance of the event. If there’s a hundred people, I’ll give them the best show I possibly can.”
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