This week, I will be in Ocala, Florida for a short visit with my uncle Basil and aunt Eileen. I will be going to see Dory and Marty Funk as well at their wrestling facility, "The Funking Conservatory". I will be taking lots of pictures to share with you in this column ... Percival

Many GREAT tag teams have entered the squared circle in the past 75 years. Teams like Wilbur Snyder and Pepper Gomez ... The Crusher and Dick The Bruiser ... Jack and Jerry Brisco ... Pat O'Connor and Bob Geigel ... Terry and Dory Funk Jr. ... Rufus R. Jones and Omar Atlas ... Black Angus and Roger Kirby ... Bill and Danny Miller ... Dr. Jerry and Eddie Graham ... The Kangaroos ... The Stomper and Ben Justice ... The Hell's Angels ... The Killer Bees ... The Fabulous Rougeau Brothers ... Magnificent Maurice and Johnny Barend ... The Freebirds ... Ric Flair and Arn Anderson ... The Fargos ... and the list could go on and on.

Wild Red Berry ... manager extraordinaire ... Captain Lou Albano ... Bobby Heenan ... Jimmy Hart ... J.C. Dykes … Dr. Ken Ramey ... General Homer O'Dell … Percival A. Friend ... and this list could go on and on … are synonymous with teams that have not only excelled beyond expectations but have their names branded for eternity in the Big Book of Championship Managers.

Black Angus and Roger Kirby had brought the North American Tag Team Championship Belts to a newer height in the Midwest wrestling arenas. We had beaten many formidable tag challengers. Among the teams that had come to Waterloo, Iowa and had left their mark were The Big O (Bob Orton Sr.) and The Viking ... Danny Littlebear and Steve Bolus ... Pat O'Connor and Bob Geigel ... Terry Martin and Frankie Diamond ... Omar Atlas and "Big" Rufus R. Jones, just to name a few.

Of course, there were many that complained to Promoter Gust Karras about my constant interruptions at ringside and being the cause of their losing to my finely tuned wrestling machines. I had been called into the office of Mr. Karras at Des Moines and was quietly puffing on a huge cigar and minding my own business when the door suddenly flew open and out came Rufus and Omar. I could see that they were in no mood to even say hello or be polite. I darned near bit off the end of the cigar and suddenly FROZE … I extended my hand, in a measure of good faith, being the gentleman that I am. Rufus stuck out his right index finger and poked it into my chest saying, "You NO GOOD WEASEL ... We have you right where we want you now" … and both suddenly left the room.

Gust Karras stood in the doorway and said, "Eh ... Eh ... Come in." As I entered his room, the carpet was so thick, I nearly tripped. As I sat down on the huge leather couch, with the gold initials NWA on its cushion, I felt very uneasy about my not having Angus or Kirby with me. They had gone on a shopping spree and were to pick me up later, as we were on our way to Milwaukee to defend our belts. Kirby and Angus had been the Tag Champions for about a year now and had made me a lot of money just in booking and management fees of 20%.

"Well, Mr. Karras … what can you do for me today?" I said ... he replied, "Eh ... Eh … You have been interfering too much as of late and causing too many good teams in my area to lose. You have to give a title shot to ... Eh ... Eh ... Rufus and Omar in two weeks at Waterloo, or else!!!!!"

Trying to outguess Gust Karras was something I had been trying to do since arriving in the Midwest to further guide careers. You never knew what he had up his sleeve. I knew what he had up his pant leg ... a wooden add-on to his amputated lower leg. I said to Gust, "Or ELSE WHAT????" "You will be asked ... Eh ... Eh ... to give up your title belts!" I said "Omar and Rufus, even though they were a good team, had not had any non-title victories over my boys, and they needed to stay in the back of the line for a while longer. I guess they are some of your favorites, aren't they?" Karras nodded his head and said, "You would be rewarded with a big check for yourself for giving them a shot at the titles." Of course, GREED was my alter ego; I jumped to my feet.

In a way, I felt sorry for Rufus and Omar because we outclassed and outwrestled them, and we had the belts to prove it. "That's all there is to it ... just a shot?" I asked. "Just sign on the line," he said as he pushed a pad of about 25 sheets of typewritten contracts in front of me. I felt very much at ease now, since mine was a better team ... How could we lose? ... How could we go wrong?

"Thank You, Mr. Friend, you will be happy to know that you just signed for a 4 & 1/2 man tag team match."

I said to him, "That 's a mean thing to do to Omar Atlas, the 5'7" OUTGROWN MIDGET … calling him a 1/2 man." Karras quietly put the papers in his safe and turned to me and said, "No sir … You are the ½ man, and I can't wait till Rufus or Omar gets his hands on you."

The match was made, and the biggest crowd in the history of Waterloo, Iowa was yet to come. Would it be my demise … or had Karras made the wrong decision, to trick me into a match as a wrestler.

I had been hoodwinked, tricked and deceived by Promoter Gust Karras. He had the uncanny ability to make people do things that they did not want to.

Now, I was faced with the match of my life ... a 4 & 1/2 man tag team. I had to get into the gym and get ready. I had to get down on the mat and get ready. I had to get my thinking cap on and outwit that old one-legged promoter. I couldn't let him make a mockery of me ... after all ... I am the Epitome of wrestling managers ... I have to live up to my name.

Waterloo, Iowa was a wrestling town. They loved their "heroes". They wanted to see justice prevail on every wrestling card and leave with a smile on their face. I was going to change that in less than two weeks.

When I got back to the limo and told Angus and Kirby what had happened, they wanted to go back and tear that office apart. Angus said, "Karras has no right to treat you like a second class citizen ... after all, you are a gentleman."

Kirby said, "Don't worry, Mr. Friend (he always had respect for me), we will make sure that Omar Atlas and Rufus R. Jones never put their hands on you."

We continued on to Milwaukee that night. I sat in the back of the limo and tried to set the image in my mind; what were the weaknesses of Rufus and Omar? I would start out in the morning when we get back to Kansas City.

The next morning, I sat in the gym, watching some of the guys press weights, others doing calisthenics, some just helping others out. I tried to concentrate, but I was not into it. Angus motioned for me to go over to the ring that was set up. We got in and started to warm up, and Angus started to bear down on me and was in fact trying to get my spirits up. "Don't let that Karras keep you down ... Me and Kirby will win the match for you," Angus said. I finally got into the spirit of the battle and started showing Angus why I was the master and he was the student.

Waterloo was packed to the rafters ... the largest audience ever for ANY event in the fairground's coliseum. We had trouble getting the limo into our parking area. People just didn't want to move. I had to call the police on the car phone and get an escort into the building.

I watched Harley Race and Danny Littlebear go at it in the semi-main event and wondered how in the world anyone could top that. Race was disqualified for using a Heart Punch, which at the time was outlawed in Iowa. He and Littlebear were both covered with blood.

The bell rang for the Main Event. Angus, Kirby and I started out towards the ring. In front of us about 100 feet were Omar and Rufus gloating to the crowd and basking in the applause and accolades.

Suddenly, I broke into a run and charged Omar's back with a chair in my hand. I struck him in the back and leveled him. Rufus turned to see what the trouble was, but he was too late. Angus and Kirby were doing a number on him. They brought out a stretcher and carried Omar back to the dressing room. Now, the odds were in my favor. The battle proceeded to the ring where the officials could calm it down.

Vengeance is mine, sayeth Percival A. Friend. I was in the ring, confident that I had done away with little Omar. As the ring announcer gave the intros, a cheer came up from the back by the dressing room. Omar had been revived and was headed to the ring with his eyes focused on me. What was I going to do now?

The people were demanding that Omar and I start the match, but Kirby had other ideas. He was a consummate athlete, a graduate of Notre Dame, and a perfect pal to me. He wouldn't let me in the ring. He started, and after about 25 minutes of tugging and tearing on each other, Kirby had Omar down on the mat and near passing out. I screamed out, "Knock him out Rog!!!!" Kinda like the late Jerry Clower. Roger tagged me in and the crowd went nuts. I proceeded to kick the daylights out of Omar and pose to the crowd. I had the best physical body in the ring (?) and was showing it off. As I turned to give him some more, Omar was up, he grabbed me and threw me onto his shoulders and started his famous Airplane Spin. Around and around we went, suddenly as quickly as it started ... Omar tags in Big Rufus and dumps me on the mat in a pile. The top of the building almost came off when Rufus got into the ring. He picks me up off the mat and shoves his big index finger into my chest again and says, "Now I got you right where I want you ... You little WEASEL!"

It was then that Big Angus couldn't stand any more of people beating on his mentor.

He entered the ring, pushed Rufus away from me and literally threw me over into our corner. I tagged Roger in, and he and Angus beat the heck out of Rufus. I was sure that he was totally out of it, and I wanted to put the coup de gras on Rufus. I wanted to be the one to pin him ... "Angus!!!!" I hollered, "Angus … let me in!" He came to me and tagged me in, and I covered Rufus. A hush went out over the entire building as the ref counted one ... two ... and Rufus kicked out, nearly throwing me 10 feet in the air. He tagged in Omar, who grabbed me in that Airplane Spin again … I felt the mat slam against my back and never heard the ref counting one ... two ... three on my shoulders.

As I lay in the middle of the ring ... fans were jumping up and down in joy; they were at the point of riot ... they were so happy. I burst their bubble, though ... Harley Race, who had been in the match before us, charged the ring, and the three of them (Angus, Kirby and Harley) went ballistic on Omar and Rufus and left them badly broken up in the middle of the ring.

Omar and Rufus may have won the battle, but I won the war...