SLAM! Sports SLAM! Wrestling
   Sat, February 28, 2004



News & Rumours
Bios
Obits
Canadian Hall of Fame
WrestleMania 30
WrestleMania 30 photos
Video
Movie Database
Minority Mat Report
Columnists
Features
Results Archive
PPV Reviews
SLAM! Wrestling store
On Facebook
On Twitter
Send Feedback




Photo Galleries

Raw in Miami


Tragos/Thesz Hall of Fame inductions


WWE Battleground


ROH in Detroit


Smackdown & Main Event in Ottawa


Raw in Montreal


WWE in Kingston







SCOREBOARD
PHOTO GALLERY
VIDEO GALLERY
COMMENT





Bret Hart: Back to school
Trip down memory lane at Ernest Manning
By BRET HART - Calgary Sun


I was asked back to Ernest Manning, my old stomping grounds, to speak to a few hundred of the best high school amateur wrestlers from all over Alberta. I pulled up in front of the school and found myself swimming in a million memories.

Walking in the front doors, just the sight of the old Griffin fountain immediately made me think of a girl who had a crush on me in Grade 11. I couldn't help but smile at the memory of her slamming a packed snowball into my face and down the back of my neck.

She ran off giggling and I was starting to get tired of her routine, so I chased her down, picked her up and dropped her right into that old fountain.

I enjoyed watching her come up for air -- until Mr. Vicorey jerked me by the arm, saying: "I didn't think you'd do it!"

He took me around the corner and I concluded I was in a heap of trouble. I was picturing how I was going to explain this to my dad when Mr. Vicorey anxiously looked around and told me: "I won't say anything if you don't say anything. Just get a mop and clean that mess up!"

Needless to say, she didn't throw any more snowballs at me after that.

One of my favourite classes was commercial art. One day, I found myself with my friend Danny Bickell in the art supply room, where there were a bunch of felt-covered manequins. Of course, it didn't take long before we were both using them to practise every wrestling move we could remember.

My art teacher, Mr. Hutton, came looking for us and he didn't appreciate the spike piledrivers being done to his prized dummies.

He took us out in the hallway and ordered the two of us to stand with our backs against the lockers, his last words being: "Don't let me catch you lying down!"

As soon as he walked back into the classroom, Dan, who was never good at following orders, asked me to show him a few wrestling moves.

So, we started wrestling away but, every now and then, I'd check to make sure Mr. Hutton was nowhere around.

I like to think Dan and I had ourselves a nice little ring-a-ding-dong dandy. I remember pretending to bang Dan's head on the lockers and he'd crumble to the floor, pretending to be out cold.

Then I told him I wanted to practise my stomps and to put his hands by his sides. I stepped back just in time to see Mr. Hutton calmly approaching with his head down, whistling. I quickly spun around and pressed my back against the locker like a perfect angel ... while Dan lay sprawled at my feet.

Mr. Hutton couldn't believe his eyes, seeing this flagrant challenge to his authority.

I still have marks on the insides of my cheeks from biting down so hard to stop myself from laughing. You snooze, you lose!

It's hard to pinpoint the most valuable lesson I got out of my school days. Maybe it was: I was going to end up a pro wrestler, no matter what.

As I told the gathering of students and wrestlers, I have numerous trophies and championship belt buckles but nothing means more to me than my amateur wrestling city championship medal, which is framed and hangs in a place of honour in my house.

My closing words were a thought from author Mark Helprin: "The one thing you'll discover is that life is based less than you think on what you've learned and much more than you think on what you have inside you right from the beginning."