This was the famous Head, which, as the story goes,
was rescued from a trash bin in Connecticut and
helped Snow turn his career around almost overnight.
In a world of bizarre gimmicks, Head is certainly
among the most bizarre.
Snow says Head can be grouchy, especially early in
the morning. He says he takes it on "long quiet
walks" and nourishes it with its favorite food -
popcorn and grape Kool-Aid.
In return, Head directs Snow's career. The team has
been wildly successful. At his matches, fans wear
Head T-shirts and wave their own plastic versions of
Head in the stands.
Drozdov, a newcomer in the wrestling arena, has a
gimmick, too. Admittedly, it is a bit more crude. He
can force himself to vomit at will (a talent he once
demonstrated in front of a national Monday night
football audience while a member of the Denver
Broncos).
Both Snow and Drozdov are quiet, mild-mannered
gentlemen outside the ring.
They talk about their concussions, broken bones and
assorted other injuries in much the way that ladies
at a tea party might talk about their grandchildren.
The pull of the sport is basic, they say.
"We all have an animal inside of us," said Snow.
"It's why people go to the car races to see the
crashes. It's human nature, being sadistic. We enjoy
it when it's not happening to us."
Not since Hulk Hogan dominated the sport of
professional wrestling more than a decade ago has the
sport enjoyed such an enthusiastic
following.
"It's bigger than life now," says Steve Mohrhard, 35,
a wrestling fan since the old Wrestling at the Chase
days in St. Louis, when promoter Sam Muchnick ran a
mini-wrestling empire here.
Mohrhard admits that today's professional wrestling -
particularly some parts of it - may not be
appropriate for children. He has a 3-year-old son, he
says, and probably would steer him away from the WWF
and toward the WCW, generally considered the tamer of
the two organizations.
In recent years, the in-the-ring violence - real or
imagined - has been escalating dramatically. Some
matches use lengths of barbed wire instead of
conventional ring ropes. Some are held in steel
cages. On occasions, the rings have actually been set
on fire.
Obscenities are common.
"The language can be a problem for kids," said
longtime wrestling fan Buddy Flick, 42, of Webster
Groves. "Still, it's not like they haven't heard it
in movies that Disney has been putting out for
years."
Flick, who will be in the crowd for Sunday evening's
wrestle-off at Kiel, said the crowds at the matches
can sometimes get carried away, too. "But you'll see
the same thing at a baseball or a hockey game."
Joe Turck, 24, of Granite City, says he loves
wrestling as much for the ongoing soap opera as the
action in the ring.
"It's the interviews and the plot twists that keep me
coming back, that keep me tuned in," he said. "It's
the male soap opera."
On Saturday afternoon several hundred fans gathered
for a "rude, crude and tattooed" pre-wrestle party
outside Union Station.
Several dozen people waved Al Snow facsimile heads.
"Wild Wes" Wesley Simmons, 9, of Arnold stood on a
railing holding a Stone Cold Steve Austin banner: "
'Cause Stone Said So."
On Friday morning, WWF wrestlers Al Snow and Darren
"Puke" Drozdov met with reporters over breakfast in
the Regal Riverfront Hotel. Snow, a 6-foot,
234-pound, golden-haired bodybuilder, pulled a
plastic mannequin's head from under the table and sat
it next to his plate of buttered toast.