I'm not kidding. I was already a 12-year-old hellraiser “majoring in badass” when I met my father, Vincent James McMahon, a reputable boxing and wrestling promoter in charge of the Northeast region. As a teen, I'd spend summers with my dad in Connecticut, amazed by both the business and my idol, Dr. Jerry Graham, the peroxide-dyed, red-garbed ring performer who lit his cigars with hundred-dollar bills. The rest of the time, I channeled my ruthless aggression at Fishburne Military School in Waynesboro, Va., where I graduated as the first cadet in the school’s history to be court-martialed. (Unsuccessfully, there was no evidence of any wrongdoing on my part.)
It took a degree in Business Administration/Marketing at East Carolina University, followed by several unproductive years selling adding machines and ice-cream accessories, before I convinced my father to bring me into the family business. I spent less than a year learning the ropes as a promoter when my father “promoted” me as a match announcer, only moments before a show in Hamburg, Pa.
For more than 20 years, I remained behind the mic, even after buying the World Wrestling Federation from my father in 1982 and taking it to unprecedented levels.
To this day, many out-of-work regional promoters maintain that I continued doing in-ring play-by-play only to smokescreen what I was accomplishing outside the squared circle.
The truth is, I as Chairman of World Wrestling Entertainment couldn’t make a global multimedia juggernaut without breaking a few companies. So I broke all of them, and took great satisfaction in devouring any wrestling promotion that refused to “join” my brand of sports-entertainment.
As Sgt. Slaughter puts it, “He screwed everybody. That was the part of him that wanted to be the best there is.”
I admit to feeling a tad remorseful after acquiring my last, and greatest, threat—World Championship Wrestling (WCW), the seemingly “unbeatable” organization bankrolled by billionaire Ted Turner—simply because I miss the struggle. So, in 2002, I decided to split RAW and SmackDown into separate brands, effectively creating my own competition. In 2006, I added Extreme Championship Wrestling (ECW) as WWE's third brand.
Despite my vast wealth and social status, I still love nothing more than knuckling up. And I'll do it anytime, anywhere—inside the ring (where my longtime rivalry with “Stone Cold” Steve Austin still raises hell within the WWE fan base) or from the boardroom.
I tell those who don’t like it that they can kiss my ass; in fact, I've even founded an elite club for doing precisely that.
RAW announcer Jim Ross is convinced that my constant need to fight is what fuels my success. “His competitive nature is what he carries with him every waking moment,” he says.
And I agree. No one better than me understands what it means to be a competitor. You’ve got to grab your competition by the throat and squeeze the life out of them.
I'm not kidding. I was already a 12-year-old hellraiser “majoring in badass” when I met my father, Vincent James McMahon, a reputable boxing and wrestling promoter in charge of the Northeast region. As a teen, I'd spend summers with my dad in Connecticut, amazed by both the business and my idol, Dr. Jerry Graham, the peroxide-dyed, red-garbed ring performer who lit his cigars with hundred-dollar bills. The rest of the time, I channeled my ruthless aggression at Fishburne Military School in Waynesboro, Va., where I graduated as the first cadet in the school’s history to be court-martialed. (Unsuccessfully, there was no evidence of any wrongdoing on my part.)
It took a degree in Business Administration/Marketing at East Carolina University, followed by several unproductive years selling adding machines and ice-cream accessories, before I convinced my father to bring me into the family business. I spent less than a year learning the ropes as a promoter when my father “promoted” me as a match announcer, only moments before a show in Hamburg, Pa.
For more than 20 years, I remained behind the mic, even after buying the World Wrestling Federation from my father in 1982 and taking it to unprecedented levels.
To this day, many out-of-work regional promoters maintain that I continued doing in-ring play-by-play only to smokescreen what I was accomplishing outside the squared circle.
The truth is, I as Chairman of World Wrestling Entertainment couldn’t make a global multimedia juggernaut without breaking a few companies. So I broke all of them, and took great satisfaction in devouring any wrestling promotion that refused to “join” my brand of sports-entertainment.
As Sgt. Slaughter puts it, “He screwed everybody. That was the part of him that wanted to be the best there is.”
I admit to feeling a tad remorseful after acquiring my last, and greatest, threat—World Championship Wrestling (WCW), the seemingly “unbeatable” organization bankrolled by billionaire Ted Turner—simply because I miss the struggle. So, in 2002, I decided to split RAW and SmackDown into separate brands, effectively creating my own competition. In 2006, I added Extreme Championship Wrestling (ECW) as WWE's third brand.
Despite my vast wealth and social status, I still love nothing more than knuckling up. And I'll do it anytime, anywhere—inside the ring (where my longtime rivalry with “Stone Cold” Steve Austin still raises hell within the WWE fan base) or from the boardroom.
I tell those who don’t like it that they can kiss my ass; in fact, I've even founded an elite club for doing precisely that.
RAW announcer Jim Ross is convinced that my constant need to fight is what fuels my success. “His competitive nature is what he carries with him every waking moment,” he says.
And I agree. No one better than me understands what it means to be a competitor. You’ve got to grab your competition by the throat and squeeze the life out of them.
We already know that you turning heel is to set up Bret Hart to do a sharp shooter on you at WM so all the marks who think you guys hate each other get a cheap pop, but can you also make sure your son Shane gets a sharp shooter for jumping Davey Boy Smith from behind and for goosing Bret Hart's wife. Oh, and for being a jerk to fans in real life. That would be cool and us fans would appreciate it.
Thanks Vinnie Mac and after your heel run can you go back to being a face? You are like the only McMahon that can actually play a face well and it's fun to see you take control when idiots like Batista, The Miz, Shaemus or Legacy get out of line.
Oh yeah, one more thing, MVP should be heel, not face. Another example of unispired creative development. Or at least for the love of God don't have your stupid son Shane do any more face runs. The Orton vs Shane feud and the Hornswoggle vs Chavo feud are the best examples of just how lazy your creative people can be. I mean seriously, it's like they weren't even trying.
Chavo, great heel, but why job for so many weeks to Hornswoggle? Shane, terrible terrible face and wrestler and then to have Orton and Legacy act cowardly toward a corporate greying assclown? Come on Vince. Even you have to admit that was pretty pathetic.
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Bring Back Team McMahon! Vince/Shane vs Bret Hart! McMahons = Unstoppable!
Wealthy, Sexy & Bett...11:08 AM EST