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Harley Race hat fuer den PWInsider einen Abschnitt veroeffentlicht,darin geht es um den legendaeren Title switch zwischen Harley Race und Giant Baba.Das waren noch Zeiten (8) .Man ueberlege mal wenn das heute jemand machen wuerde,was dann los waere.....
Rikidozan’s Japan Pro Wrestling had split off into two groups: Antonio Inoki’s New Japan Pro Wrestling and Baba’s All Japan Pro Wrestling. Baba and Inoki were in a hard-fought battle to control wrestling in Japan. Baba already had the edge in profits and name recognition. He was a two-time NWA world champion, winning the belt on December 2, 1974, from Jack Brisco and then on October 31, 1979, from me. His last run as titleholder lasted two weeks before I won it back.
Now, a year later, I was on tour in Japan and wanted to do whatever I could to help my friend keep his operation the No. 1 wrestling organization in Japan.
In a secluded Japanese steakhouse, I said to Baba: “How would you like to take the belt from me?” Baba and I were scheduled to wrestle the next night.
“You’re kidding?” Baba responded.
Of course, he knew I had to be joking, since the NWA hadn’t scheduled a title change during this trip to Japan. An unscheduled belt switch was taboo. It was like throwing the World Series: You just didn’t do it. And if you did, you had better have a damn good reason for letting your opponent pin you. Being decapitated by a vicious clothesline might be acceptable, for instance.
“No, I’m not kidding,” I responded with just a trace of a mischievous smile. At this point, Baba knew I was serious, and that I was offering him a rare favor. He wasn’t about to turn it down.
It actually was a clothesline that Baba used for his finishing move on me. His huge outstretched arm caught me right along my neck, stopping my upper body like hitting a wall, while my feet kept flying forward until they were parallel with the rest of my body in the air. Then my entire 260-pound frame came crashing to the mat. Baba covered me for the three-count and the Saga, Japan, crowd went nuts.
Word didn’t take long to get to the U.S., and NWA officials were predictably less than enthusiastic. But they weren’t there, and they had no idea what happened. Did Harley really get knocked out by Baba’s clothesline, or was he granting Baba a quick title change as a favor to an old friend? I think they suspected the latter. Of course, when they asked me, I told them the former was true.
I won the belt back from Baba six days later in Otsu, Japan. But the controversy wasn’t over. Back in the United States, Inoki showed up at the next annual NWA meeting in Las Vegas with a tape of the match in which Baba won the title from me. It was Inoki’s attempt to discredit both of us while getting his foot in the door of the NWA.
Baba already was a member of the NWA, and that affiliation helped his business in Japan. Inoki, on the other hand, had repeatedly applied for NWA membership. He had the backing of Los Angeles promoter Mike LaBell and Vince McMahon Sr., but he still failed each time by the slimmest of margins. Baba’s outfit was granted NWA membership because he applied first. The NWA didn’t grant Inoki’s group membership because it only wanted to be affiliated with one group from Japan.
So Inoki showed his tape at the convention, probably in hopes of replacing Baba’s group as Japan’s NWA [lexicon]affiliate[/lexicon]. But by the time Inoki played the tape, the match was pretty much old news. The bitter feelings of NWA members who suspected I purposefully gave Baba the title were mostly fading. The reaction of most NWA members to the tape was laughter, because they could tell I did it in a way that you couldn’t tell for sure what happened.
The message NWA officials gave me was basically, “The results of the tape are inconclusive, so we’re not going to take any action. But don’t ever let it happen again.”
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Und ein weiterer kleiner Ausblick auf das Buch von Harley Race.
In late 1985, I met with Geigle, O’Connor, Crockett and Gagne to discuss the future of the NWA. The meeting was held in the Delta Airlines Ambassador Room at Kansas City International Airport. It was a courtesy room reserved for ultra-frequent flyers like myself. Once again, we needed to come up with a plan to survive. This time, I had hoped to hear something different.
Crockett talked about how he was going to let his talent work for NWA territories across the nation, but that he needed to have a say in the match-ups and outcomes of the matches. Gagne replied by saying nobody was going to give orders in Minneapolis but him.
It was what I hoped wouldn’t happen, but what I mostly expected. Everyone wanted to protect their own territories and interests, but nobody had the vision or leadership to unite the NWA in a way that could return it to its former glory.
After the others had their say, I made the announcement that I suspected I would have to make. What I was about to tell them was tough, but I wanted to be man enough to tell them to their faces.
“Guys, effective today, I’m done,” I said. “Unlike many territory owners, I’m still at the age where I can shift gears and recover from my losses. I’m going to do what’s best for my family. I’m going to join the WWF.”
