SLAM! Sports SLAM! Wrestling
  May 12, 2001



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

SHIMMER tapings


Alexia Nicole


Ox Baker


BCW Excellence


WWE in Montreal


ROH Unauthorized


Smackdown in Philadelphia







SCOREBOARD
PHOTO GALLERY
VIDEO GALLERY
COMMENT




READER ALERT: For all the latest wrestling happenings, check out our News & Rumours section.

NOTE: SLAM! Sports has the exclusive rights to publish this column on the Internet. You may link to this column, but a copy cannot exist on any other Web site. It also CANNOT be posted on newsgroups or newsboards.
Feel free to use the this button on your site to link to Bret's column.
Link to:
http://www.canoe.ca/SlamWrestling/hitman_home.html.
Check out our Bret Hart photo gallery!.

Mom tower of strength


By BRET HART -- Calgary Sun
I never, ever broke a promise to my mother. Well, except one.

When Helen heard that I'd made the decision to become a pro wrestler -- yet another son in the ring and on the road -- she made an emotional plea to me: "Please, whatever you do, don't break your nose."

Sorry mom.

I wish I could have stopped there but I've broken just about everything at least once.

I think most people assume that the Harts inherited their tough side from my father Stu -- and that's true. But any woman who has 12 children is as tough as they come, too.

I once heard a reporter ask my mom: "Why so many kids?" To which she replied, "Well ... the winters really are cold in Calgary ... truth be told, I wanted 15 children!"

I don't know how she did it.

I remember a lot of times when my mom would help me with school work and somehow still do the old Stampede Wrestling payroll.

I remember times when she asked with genuine interest how my day was or what was new.

One time, when I was eight, she sat down at the edge of my bed in a cute, cosy way and asked me about my prized purple Crown Royal whiskey pouch.

"Whatcha' got there?"

I told her it was where I kept my most important things in the whole wide world.

"Like what? Can I see?"

I happily showed off my favourite toy soldiers, ruby-red crystal, creamies, steelies, big white dice and my favourite Dinky toy -- a tow truck. One by one, my mom studied each treasure and agreed with me that they were special.

With a big smile on my face I reached into the little pouch and held up my most prized possession for my mom to see.

She looked perplexed, not being able to figure out what it was. It looked like a wad of hard, black chewing gum.

"And what is this one?" she asked.

Just as proud as can be I said, "That's Owen's belly button!"

I couldn't understand why Mom shrieked.

She picked up Owen's belly button with a Kleenex and flushed it down the toilet, much to my protest.

"But mom ... you don't understand ... it's gonna be worth somethin' one of these days!"

When my mom first came home with Owen, all us Hart kids raced home from school to see the new baby. I was excited that I got there first.

Gosh, he's sure little, I thought. A few days later his belly button fell off and I decided to save it.

Years later, Owen laughed about this story and it was nice to give him back some of the laughter that he gave to everyone else.

Then there was the bear that lived in the back yard. With everything else that went on at the Hart house, none of us kids thought it was in the least bit unusual. I remember my sister, Georgia, asking one time: "Doesn't everyone have a bear in their yard?"

His tame was Terrible Teddy and he wasn't our bear. My dad brought him in for three weeks to wrestle various guys and when the bear wasn't on the road, he lived in a big cage under the back steps.

Us Hart kids would drip ice cream onto our feet and then hang them between the wood stairs so the bear could lick our toes and get a treat. Mom would say: "Don't let a dirty bear lick your dirty piggies."

But I highly suspected that when we weren't looking, Mom gave the bear treats, too.

When I was five, I was on the Headhunter show up at the CFCN tower.

They had the bear on the show and when they said to me, "how would you like a bear like that in your backyard?" I casually replied, "well, I do have a bear like that in the yard."

The host looked at me like -- of course you do -- with a wink to the camera. I became the brunt of a joke on the show, "this kid thinks he has a bear in his yard ..." with me insisting the whole time that I was telling the truth and that there was, in fact, a bear in the yard.

I was annoyed the people at the show thought I was telling a tall tale. When I got home, my mom, who had seen the whole thing on TV, laughed and gave me a big hug. She told me she was proud of the way I stuck to my guns and told the truth.

Too often, the fact my mom holds the family together is overlooked. Even during the past couple of turbulent years, she still loves all her children unconditionally.

She stills offers support and comfort to each of us as if we were her only child. She does it with strength and grace. In her example, I'm still learning life's lessons.

Happy Mother's Day to Julie, a great mom to our four kids, and to moms everywhere.

More on Bret Hart