The two had been doing battle for nearly an hour. But more than that, they had been doing battle for three decades. Mike Randalls was a man’s man, a wrestler’s wrestler. The only thing fellow professional wrestlers feared more than one of The Wolf’s lethal submission grips was his death stare, honed in the dojos at which he had studied across the Far East. Troy Windham, for his part, was professional wrestling’s premier bad boy. He openly bragged about using the industry to gain a toehold in Hollywood and called himself professional wrestling’s only true icon.

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