Welcome. Welcome back to the deep dive. Today
we are opening a file that I honestly didn't
expect to be this, um, this fascinating. Yeah,
it's definitely a bit of a departure for us.
It really is because usually we look at these
massive earth shaking events, you know, like
geopolitics or tech revolutions, ancient history,
things like that. The big picture stuff. Exactly.
But today, today we're zooming in on a very specific,
um, somewhat obscure corner of pop culture history.
But it's a corner that tells a much bigger story
than you might think at first glance. I completely
agree. So we are looking at the career of professional
wrestler, a man named David Everett Ferrier.
Right. Now, if I just say that name to you, the
listener, probably 99 % of you are just going
to shrug. It doesn't exactly scream stadium -filling
superstar. No, not at all. It sounds like, I
don't know, an accountant. Or maybe a guy who
runs a local hardware store. Which is funny because,
as we'll find out later, he actually did end
up doing something quite similar to that. He
did. But to the wrestling world, he is known
by a much more colorful, slightly sleazier name.
Gigolo Jimmy Del Rey. The Gigolo. And right there...
That is where the hook is for me, because when
you hear the word jiggle -o in the context of
1990s professional wrestling, you expect a very
specific look. You expect the bodybuilder. The
ravishing Rick Rood archetype. Right, exactly.
A Fabio type, someone with the chiseled abs,
the flowing hair, the baby oil, just the whole
package. But Jimmy Del Rey was the complete opposite
of that expectation. Completely. The source material
we're using today, which is built on his biographical
records and match histories, it's very polite
about it, but it's honest. It describes him as
having a, quote, slightly pudgy midsection. Yeah,
he was not ripped. He looked like a regular guy
who maybe enjoyed a beer or two on the weekends.
He looked like some someone's uncle, and this
is the crazy part, he moved like a cat. That
really is the paradox we're exploring today,
the unlikely agile athlete. This is a guy who
would go out to the ring, do this ridiculous,
taunting dance where he would literally shake
his belly at the audience. The infamous jiggle?
The jiggle, right. He'd shake it to make them
mad and then the bell would ring and he would
suddenly perform these flawless moonsaults. And
technical holds that rivaled the absolute best
cruiserweights in the world at that time. It's
just a fascinating contradiction. So our mission
today, as we dig into these sources, isn't just
to rattle off a list of his matches. No, we want
to understand the journey of a definitive worker
in the 1990s wrestling scene. We're going to
track his path from the old school territories
straight through the neon lit WWF into the grimy
bingo halls of ECW and finally to the high flying
cruiserweight division of WCW. He really was
a travelogue of the entire industry during its
most pivotal decade. He hit every single major
stop on the map. And at every stop, he managed
to collect championships and unique stories.
He was a winner, even if he looked like your
neighbor. So we have this massive stack of sources
here, biographical data, championship histories,
personal life records. Let's take it all the
way back to the beginning. Let's do it. Section
one, the early days and the identity crisis.
The year is 1985, 1985. So to set the scene for
you, the wrestling business is just starting
to undergo this massive seismic change. Hulk
Hogan won the WWF title in 1984, right? Exactly.
The WWF is going national, expanding aggressively.
But the old system, the territory system, where
you learned your trade by driving 300 miles a
night for practically no money, that was still
very much alive. And that gritty territory system
is exactly where David Ferrier starts his journey.
He was trained by a man who went by the name
The Mighty Yankee. OK, I have to stop you right
there. The Mighty Yankee. That is just, that
is a wrestling name if I've ever heard one. Doesn't
it sound like a Golden Age comic book character?
It really does, like someone who fights Captain
America. But you have to remember, training in
those days was brutal. It wasn't about sports
entertainment yet. There were no foam pits or
soft crash mats. It was about survival. It was
a trade school. It was about respect, grueling
stretching. learning legitimate submission holds,
and most importantly, learning how to protect
yourself and your opponent in the ring. So, Ferrier
graduates from the Mighty Yankees old school
training, and he needs a name. He needs a persona
to step out into the world. And what does he
choose? Jimmy Richland. Jimmy Richland. I just
have to laugh at that because it's so incredibly
normal. It sounds like the name of a guy who
sells life insurance in the suburbs. The source
material actually points out that funny little
detail. The name was so completely unassuming
that most fans actually thought it was his real
legal name. He didn't come out as the Destroyer
or the Galactic Warrior or anything flashy. No,
he was just Jimmy. I think it signals something
really interesting about his mindset right out
of the gate. He wasn't trying to get by on a
wild gimmick or a crazy costume. He was essentially
saying, I am a wrestler. Watch my technique.
That's spot on. He was a mechanic in the ring.
But the reality of wrestling, especially as we
get into the late 80s, is that you have to evolve.
You have to catch the promoter's eye and the
crowd's eye. So he starts moving around the territories.
He goes down to Florida, championship wrestling
from Florida. Which was a massive hotbed at the
time. This is the territory where dusty roads
and all these heavy hitters had been drawing
huge crowds for years. And here we see his first
real identity crisis. He changes his name to
Jomo Kenya. A very specific and as it turns out
very short -lived pivot. It feels like such a
drastic jarring shift from Jimmy Richland, but
it clearly didn't stick so he pivots again. And
this time he chooses a name that carries some
serious industry weight. He becomes Jimmy Backlund.
Now that is a classic wrestling trope right there.
For you listening who might not be deep into
wrestling history, Bob Backlund was one of the
longest reigning WWF champions ever. The ultimate
all -American boy. Right. The amateur wrestler,
the clean -cut technical wizard. So by calling
himself Jimmy Backlund, was Farrier implying
some sort of biological relation to Bob? The
sources don't say he explicitly went on TV and
lied, saying Bob is my cousin, but the implication
is the entire point. It's bland dissociation.
Exactly. If a fan sees the name Backlund on the
event poster, they immediately assume this guy
is a technical mastermind. They assume he's a
good guy. It's a shortcut to establishing credibility.
And looking at the record, it actually worked.
He started finding real success in the tag team
ranks under that name. He formed a team called
the Playboys with a wrestler named Brett Sawyer.
And by July 1st, 1989, they captured the FCW
Tag Team Championship. Now, the source specifically
notes that they were awarded the vacant titles.
Does that kind of wording diminish the accomplishment
at all? Not in the context of professional wrestling.
In a scripted business, if the promoter simply
decides that you are the team who should hold
the belts when the previous champions leave,
that means they view you as top guys. You are
the investment. They trust you to carry the brand.
Right. So they held those belts through the summer
of 89, but then on August 22, they lose them.
And they lose them to a team that I think just
about everyone remembers. The nasty boys. Brian
Knobs and Jerry Sachs. Let's talk about an absolute
style clash. You've got the Playboys, who are
presumably this technical, maybe slightly pretty
boy team. Or at least trying to be. Right. And
then you have the Nasty Boys, who are just straight
up brawlers. Mullets, trench coats, stiff punches,
hitting people with garbage cans. But that's
the perfect wrestling dynamic. The pristine technician
versus the chaotic brawler. And the fact that
Del Rey or Jimmy Backlund at this point was working
top of the card programs with the Nasty Boys
in 1989 really shows his level. Because the Nasty
Boys were literally on their way to the WWF to
become massive global stars. And Del Rey was
right there in the ring with them, facilitating
their rise and matching their energy. But to
truly become a master of the wrestling craft
back then, you couldn't just stay in Florida.
You had to get international experience. You
had to go to Japan. Ah, the Japan chapter. It's
almost like a mandatory semester abroad for any
truly great technical wrestler. We look at guys
like Chris Benoit, Eddie Guerrero, Dean Malenko.
They all did it. It's a rite of passage. So our
sources show Del Rey went to Frontier Martial
Arts Wrestling or FMW and he worked there from
1989 to 1991. Yes. Now, I know a little bit about
FMW. When I hear that acronym, I think of exploding
barbed wire death matches. I think of copious
amounts of blood and extreme physical danger.
And you aren't wrong at all. FMW was absolutely
the pioneer of that hardcore death match style.
But... And this is a crucial point for context.
A promoter can't just run two straight hours
of explosions. The crowd would get numb to it.
Exactly. You need variety on the card. So FMW
had this junior heavyweight division that was
incredibly fast paced and athletic to balance
out the gore. So Dill Ray was brought in to be
the palate cleanser. In a way, yes. He was there
to provide the high level athletic wrestling
action. Yeah. And he was highly successful at
it. He actually held the AWA World Light Heavyweight
Championship while he was in FMW. Which proves
he could hang with that Japanese style. The strong
style, yes. Can you just briefly explain strong
style for the listener who might not be familiar
with that specific term? Sure. In Japan, professional
wrestling is presented much more like a legitimate
combat sport. The hits are tangibly harder. They
actually make solid contact with their strikes.
The submission holds are cinched in much tighter.
It's less theatrical and more physical. Right.
So if you could survive a multi -week tour in
Japan and actually get invited back by the promoter,
it means you are genuinely tough and highly precise.
You aren't just an actor, you're a fighter. And
the records show he also worked for Wing in 1992,
which was another Japanese promotion. So he's
really racking up the frequent flyer miles here.
He's becoming this worldly seasoned veteran.
And all that hard work finally pays off when
the big machine comes calling the World Wrestling
Federation. He gets a look from them, a tryout.
The date is November 20, 1991. But we should
clarify, this wasn't Madison Square Garden. This
wasn't WrestleMania. No, the source notes this
was a house show and an untelevised live event.
And interestingly, he goes all the way back to
the name Jimmy Richland for this match. Going
right back to basics. And do you see who he wrestled?
He wrestled Skinner. The Alligator Man from the
Everglades. I used to love Skinner. He would
come out to the ring with that real alligator
claw and just aggressively chew tobacco. And
underneath that wild gimmick was Steve Kern,
who was an absolute legend in Florida wrestling.
Now, Del Rey lost that match to Skinner. But
in the wrestling business, a loss isn't always
a failure, right? Not at all. It was a tryout
match. He went out there to show the WWF agents
in the back. Look. I can get in the ring with
an respected veteran like Skinner, have a solid,
safe match, and do exactly what I am told to
do. He passed the test from a technical standpoint,
but he didn't secure a full -time contract right
then and there. It seems like he was missing
something. He needed the right vehicle to get
him to the next level. Which perfectly transitions
us into section two of our deep dive, the Smoky
Mountain Wrestling Era and the actual birth of
the Gigolo. The year is 1993. The location is
Knoxville, Tennessee. Smokey Mountain Wrestling,
or SMW, which was run by the legendary Jim Cornette.
Jim Cornette. A highly polarizing figure in wrestling
history, to say the very least, but an absolute
undisputed genius when it came to booking tag
team wrestling. He loved that traditional old
school southern tag team style. And his top attraction,
his big money makers in SMW, was a team called
the Heavenly Bodies. Now, originally that team
consisted of Tom Prichard and Stan Lang. Stan
Lane from the Midnight Express, that is serious
wrestling royalty. It really is. Stan Lane was
everything a wrestler was supposed to be in that
era. He was handsome, smooth in the ring, a fantastic
talker, and just an all around great worker.
But in early 1993, Stan Lane decides he wants
to retire. So suddenly, Jim Cornette has a massive
problem on his hands. He has this top tier tag
team brand. He has Tom Prichard ready to go.
But he has a glaring vacancy. He needs a replacement
for a legend. And replacing a beloved legend
is arguably the hardest job in the entire business.
It's like trying to replace the lead singer of
an iconic rock band. The fans are practically
pre -programmed to hate the new guy just because
he isn't the old guy. So enter David Ferrier,
the mechanic. But Cornett is smart. He doesn't
call him David Ferrier. He doesn't call him Jimmy
Richland. He calls him Jimmy Del Rey. And this
is where we see the psychology of booking at
play. Why Del Rey? Because Stan Lane, the guy
he's replacing, was famously billed as being
from Delray Beach, Florida. It's a subconscious
bridge. Exactly. By naming the new guy Jimmy
Delray, they create this subtle, almost invisible
link to the past member. It makes him feel like
he inherently belongs in that link. Oh, it's
brilliant. But then Cornet executes the real
masterstroke. He gives him the moniker. He christened
him the Gigolo. And this is where that physical
paradox we talked about in the intro really becomes
the focal point. Cornet looked at Jimmy and saw
that he obviously wasn't a bodybuilder. He had
that, as the source calls it, pudgy midsection.
So instead of giving him a t -shirt to hide it,
they put a massive spotlight on it. Right. If
Jimmy Del Rey tries to act like a tough, intimidating
bad guy, the fans are just going to laugh at
him. But if he acts like this completely delusional
Lothario, who genuinely believes he is God's
gift to women, and he does that jiggle dance
to show off his completely average body, it generates
massive heat. It makes the fans absolutely furious.
They look at him and say, Who does this guy think
he is? I want to pay money to see someone punch
him right in his smug mouth. It is the crucial
difference between what the industry calls go
away heat, where fans are just bored and want
you to leave and I'll pay to see you lose heat.
And he had the ladder in spades. The jiggle dance
became his absolute signature. He would stand
dead center in the ring, swivel his hips and
just let his stomach bounce. It was grotesque.
It was hilarious. And it was incredibly effective
for a villain. And we have to talk about how
well it contrasted with his partner Tom Prichard.
Prichard was billed as the Doctor of Desire.
He was the serious Polish athlete, the street
man of the duo. While Delray was the weird, sleazy,
eccentric cousin, it was an absolutely perfect
dynamic, and it brought them huge success. The
records show they won the SMW Tag Team Championship
on three separate occasions. They were the undisputed
anchors of that territory. But here is where
the timeline gets really unique, and it brings
us to Section 3. The big stage. The World Wrestling
Federation. Usually, if you are the top act in
a regional territory like SMW, you stay there.
You don't just magically show up on national
television for a rival company. But 1993 was
a weird transitional year. It really was. The
WWF tag team division was a bit thin, and they
were actively looking for fresh talent. Jim Cornette
had managed to strike up a working relationship
with Vince McMahon. A rare cross promotion deal.
So The Heavenly Bodies, a team actively reigning
in Smoky Mountain Wrestling, make their debut
on WWF Monday Night Raw. The date is August 9th,
1993. This is a massive platform. Raw is the
flagship show. Our sources note they debuted
against a team of Bobby Who and Mike Bucci. Which
was a standard squash match designed entirely
to showcase their moves to the national audience.
And the WWF clearly liked what they saw because
they didn't waste any time pushing them up the
card. Later that exact same month, August 30th,
they are on SummerSlam. SummerSlam. One of the
big four. pay -per -views and look at who they
are putting the ring against. The Steiner brothers
Rick and Scott Steiner for the World Tag Team
Championship. Now we have to emphasize at this
point in time the Steiner's are arguably the
best most dangerous tag team on the planet. They
were terrifying. They were known for working
incredibly stiff. They would throw these massive
high angle suplexes that could legitimately knock
the wind out of you or drop you on your head
if you weren't perfectly positioned. So for the
WWF management to put the heavenly bodies in
a championship match against the Steiners on
live pay -per -view It speaks volumes about how
much they trusted Jimmy Del Rey's in -ring ability.
They needed someone who could take those insane
bumps, position themselves perfectly to take
a Frankensteiner safely, and make the champions
look like absolute monsters. And Del Rey was
the perfect mechanic for the job. Even though
the heavenly bodies lost that match, just being
trusted with that spot elevated them instantly.
It made them legitimate in the eyes of the WWF
fans. And they kept that momentum rolling, which
leads us to a specific match at Survivor Series
1993 that I think really represents the absolute
peak of their heel character work. November 24th,
1993. Inside the legendary Boston Garden, the
Heavily Bodies versus the Rock and Roll Express.
Now, context is everything here. The Rock and
Roll Express, Ricky Morton and Robert Gibson,
they were the bitter arch rivals of the heavenly
bodies down in SMW. They were the ultimate pure
baby faces, former teen idols. And here they
are, both teams, wrestling on a major WWF pay
-per -view event. But the most mind -blowing
part is what they were actually fighting for.
Right. They were fighting for the Smokey Mountain
Wrestling Tag Team Championship. On WWF television.
That is just unheard of. The WWF willingly gave
up premium air time on one of their biggest shows
of the year to promote a title belt from a small
regional promotion in Tennessee. It's something
that would be almost unimaginable today. It shows
the immense respect the industry had for Cornett
and the in -ring quality of these two teams.
And the finish of that match. It is pure classic
wrestling psychology. Walk us through it. So
the match is reaching its climax. The Rock and
Roll Express are on absolute fire. The Boston
crowd is going wild. They clearly have the match
won. But as always happens in these situations,
the referee gets distracted. The oldest trick
in the bad guy playbook. Exactly. And while the
referee has his back turned to the action, Jimmy
Del Rey grabs Jim Cornett's tennis racket. The
tennis racket. We haven't even properly highlighted
the racket yet. Cornett carried this vintage
tennis racket to the ring for every single match.
And the running storyline was that the cover
of the racket was loaded with a heavy steel horseshoe.
So Dillrake takes this loaded racket and just
smashes Robert Gibson with it. Prichard scrambles
over, makes the cover, the referee turns back
around. One, two, three. The bad guys win. On
a massive global stage, they used the cheapest
tactics possible to steal the titles from the
heroes. It perfectly established them as the
smartest, sneakiest team in the building. And
they rode that wave of heat right into 1994.
The sources show they made it to WrestleMania
X. Madison Square Garden, the 10th anniversary
of WrestleMania. They wrestled a dark match against
the Bushwhackers. Now, a dark match is just for
the live crowd in the arena. It's not broadcast
on the pay -per -view, but they won that match.
And honestly, just be able to say you want to
match at WrestleMania inside MSG that is a permanent
resume builder. Absolutely. And they stayed highly
relevant throughout the year. At Survivor Series
1994, they were recruited for a major main event
level storyline. They became part of Ted DeBias's
million dollar team. Look at the sheer size of
the guys on this team. You have Bam Bam Bigelow,
you have King Kong Bundy, you have Tatanka. These
are massive hulking monsters. And then standing
next to them, the heavenly bodies, the Gigolo
and the Doctor. But there is a very practical
reason for that. In a long traditional Survivor
Series elimination match, You need workers. You
need guys who can actually wrestle back and forth
for 20 minutes while guys like King Kong Bundy
stand on the apron and catch their breath. They
were the engine of the team. They were up against
a team called Guts and Glory, which was Lex Luger,
Mabel, Adam Baum, and the Smoking Guns. And the
million dollar team actually won that match.
Delray and Pridgerd were eventually eliminated
during the course of it, but they were integral
parts of the winning unit. But as we flip the
calendar to 1995, you can start to see the writing
on the wall. The cross -promotion deal is fading
out. Smokey Mountain Wrestling is struggling
financially. The great run starts to wind down.
In January 1995, Del Ray is an entrant in the
30 -man Royal Rumble match. He gets in there,
lasts a little while, and is eventually eliminated
by the British Bulldog. Pretty standard Rumble
appearance, but his exit from the WWF is what
I find truly fascinating, mostly because of who
he was in the ring with on his way out the door.
This is what the industry calls the jobber to
the stars phase of a career. When a wrestler
is leaving or when the front office knows they
are incredibly safe and reliable, they will put
them in matches with their absolute top stars
to guarantee a great television segment. So in
April 1995 on the show Superstars, he wrestles
Bret the Hitman Hart. The excellence of execution.
The face of the company. And then his final televised
match for the WWF is on Raw, July 24th, 1995,
and he wrestles Shawn Michaels. The Heartbreak
Kid, the Intercontinental Champion at the time.
Just think about the magnitude of that. In his
final months, he shared the ring with Bret Hart
and Shawn Michaels. Those are undeniably the
two best wrestlers of the 1990s. And the office
trusted Jimmy Del Rey to go out there on national
television and work singles matches with him.
That is the ultimate seal of approval for a wrestler's
ability. So by mid -95, the WWF run is officially
over, and then SMW finally shuts its doors for
good in December of 1995. The old territory system
is effectively dead. So where does a traditional
guy like Jimmy Del Rey go? He's a gigolo who
relies on an obnoxious dance and a manager with
a tennis racket. Section 4. The Wild West. He
goes to the one place that makes absolutely zero
sense on paper. He goes to Philadelphia. Extreme
Championship Wrestling. I really cannot stress
enough how weird of a cultural fit this was.
ECW in 1995 was grunge. It was counterculture.
It was flannel shirts, broken tables, blood and
beer. The ECW fans actively despised sports entertainment.
They hated traditional gimmicks. And here come
the heavenly bodies. Two guys walking down the
aisle in pristine matching trunks managed by
a loudmouth southern lawyer doing a jiggle dance.
They were the ultimate squares crashing the punk
rock show. And paradoxically, that is exactly
why it worked. They ended up joining a faction
called Raven's Nest, which is another layer of
weirdness. Raven was this moody, depressed, philosophical
cult leader. Why on earth would he hang out with
the Gigolo. It had to be irony, right? Completely.
Raven collected the outcasts and the weirdos
of wrestling, and bringing these pristine Southern
traditionalists into his gritty nest was a brilliant
way to troll the diehard ECW audience. And this
leads to a specific night in ECW history that
our source highlights in detail, December 9th,
1995, an event called December to Dismember.
The match was billed as Ultimate Jeopardy, and
this is where we see peak ECW booking insanity.
I really need you to brace yourself as we go
through these match stipulations. I'm ready.
Latest stipulation's on me. Okay. So it's a tag
team match. The Heavenly Bodies versus the Public
Enemy. Now Public Enemy were the beloved crowd
favorites. They wore street clothes. They brought
tables into the ring. They were brawlers. So
once again, we have the pristine technicians
versus the chaotic brawlers. Exactly. But the
stakes placed on this match were just completely
ridiculous. Stipulation number one. If public
enemy loses the match, they are forced to fight
each other later that same night. Okay, forcing
the best friends to turn on each other? Classic
wrestling tension, I follow that. Stipulation
number two. If the heavenly bodies lose, their
stablemates, a tag team called the Eliminators,
are fired from ECW. And on top of that, their
manager, a guy named Jason, has to get his head
shaved bald. Wait, hold on. So if Jimmy Del Rey
gets pinned in the ring, two completely different
guys lose their jobs and a third guy loses his
hair. You've got it. But wait, there is more.
Stipulation three. If the heavenly bodies lose
Raven's valet, Bula McGillicutty is forced to
spend an entire week with her rival, Tommy Dreamer.
The romantic soap opera subplot. So now true
love is on the line, too. And finally, stipulation
four, if the heavenly bodies lose, Stevie Richards,
who was Raven's lackey, gets locked inside a
steel cage for five minutes with the winners
of the main event. That is, I mean, that is just
so much math. I feel like the fans in the arena
would need a spreadsheet just to keep track of
what was at stake. It was absolute chaos by design.
And the ultimate punchline to all of this buildup,
the heavenly bodies lost the match. Of course
they did. So every single one of those crazy
stipulations was enforced. The eliminators were
fired. Jason got his head. shaved in the middle
of the ring, Bula had to leave with Dreamer,
and poor Stevie Richards got locked in a steel
cage and absolutely destroyed. And amidst all
that swirling chaos and storyline madness, there
is Jimmy Del Rey just lacing up his boots and
doing his job perfectly. Just doing his job.
But that ECW run was very short. It was basically
a cup of coffee. Tom Prichard ended up going
back to the WWF to work as a trainer, so the
heavenly bodies disbanded. The source mentions
Delray had one final singles match there against
Bubba Ray Dudley, who obviously became a massive
tag team legend later on, and Delray lost that
match. And that was it for Philadelphia. So he's
conquered the old territories. He's wrestled
on pay -per -view for the polished WWF. He's
survived the hardcore bingo hall of ECW. There
was only one major player left on the board in
the Monday Night Wars. Which brings us to section
five, reinvention. It's late 1996 world championship
wrestling. WCW is flush with cash. They are buying
up every talent they can find. Hulk Hogan is
there. The NWO is running wild. And in walks
our guy, David Ferrier. But he's not Jimmy Del
Rey anymore. No, he reinvents his identity yet
again. He debuts in October 1996 under the name
Jimmy Graffiti. Jimmy Graffiti. It is a painfully
90s name. It sounds like a radical character
they invented for a skateboard or a soda commercial.
It really does. But the name itself matters a
lot less than where WCW actually placed him on
the roster. He wasn't wrestling the giant heavyweight.
No, he was placed directly into the Cruiserweight
division. And this is huge context for our listeners.
The WCW Cruiserweight division completely changed
the paradigm of professional wrestling in North
America. This is the division that featured Rey
Mysterio, Dean Milanko, Chris Jericho, Eddie
Guerrero. These were international athletes doing
things in the ring that seemed to literally defy
gravity. And WCW management looked at Jimmy Graffiti,
the guy with the pudgy midsection, the guy famous
for the jiggle dance, and put him right in the
mix with the greatest high flyers on earth. Just
visualize that contrast. Yeah. You have Ray Mysterio.
who is maybe five foot four, wearing a colorful
lucha libre mask, doing twisting flips off the
top rope, and the guy catching him is Jimmy Graffiti.
It totally validated the entire premise of his
career. He was a genuine elite athlete. The source
specifically notes he competed against technical
wizards like Dean Malenko and Billy Kidman. And
you simply cannot fake your way through a match
with Dean Malenko. They called him the man of
a thousand holds. If you don't know exactly what
you're doing on the mat, Malenko will tie you
in knots. The fact that Del Rey hung with him
proves his skill. He became a solid part of the
WCW landscape. He even participated in the massive
World War Three pay -per -view event in November
1996. 60 men, three separate wrestling rings,
a massive chaotic spectacle. And he was right
there in the thick of it. But sadly, this WCW
run, it ends incredibly abruptly. And it's not
because he got fired. It's not because of backstage
politics or scandal. But it's the ultimate wrestler's
curse. His body finally gave out. The source
notes that he suffered a severe knee injury in
1997. It's always the knees or the necks in that
business. It forced him to retire from full time
active competition. And here is the real kicker
of this whole timeline. David Ferrier was born
in 1962. So when he was forced to retire in 1997,
he was only 35 years old. 35. That is just incredibly
young, especially for a guy with his vast technical
knowledge. If his knee hadn't given out, a worker
like him could have easily wrestled for another
10 or 15 years. It's one of the great tragedies
of the profession. The miles just add up so fast
on those joints. So what does a 35 year old retired
wrestler do with his life? He can't do the jiggle
dance forever. And that brings us to section
six, life after wrestling. Well, initially he
did what many respected veterans do. He decided
to pass on his knowledge to the next generation.
He became an instructor. Which makes perfect
sense. If you are known as a worker who knows
how to make every single opponent look good,
you are the ideal teacher. Our records show he
went to work as an instructor at Steve Kern's
professional wrestling school down in Florida.
Steve Kern? Wait, that's Skinner. The exact guy
who beat him in his WWF tryout match way back
in 1991. It is the ultimate circle of life in
the wrestling business. He went back to work
side by side with a guy who first welcomed him
to the big leagues. The source says he trained
guys like Buck Quartermain and Steve Madison,
names that hardcore independent wrestling fans
would definitely recognize. He even managed an
indie team called the New Heavenly Bodies, keeping
the old gimmick alive for a new crowd. But eventually
he made a clean break. He left the wrestling
bubble entirely. And this is the part of his
story that I actually find really grounding and
respectable. Because so often we hear these tragic
stories that end with retired guys just hanging
around the fringes of the business, signing autographs
in sad high school gyms until they're 70 years
old. Right. Unable to let go of the spotlight.
But Jimmy Del Rey didn't do that. No. He entered
the trades. He started a completely legitimate,
normal business. He founded a company called
Ferriers Fine Flooring, Inc. in Tampa, Florida,
in March 2006. Hardwood Floors. tile, grout,
real tangible work. Real work. He traded the
roar of the crowd for a steady job and a normal
life. The source even mentions he started a second
entity, Ferrier's Flooring Inc., later in September
2013. He successfully built a second life for
himself. It really humanizes him. He wasn't just
the gigolo. He was David Ferrier, a small business
owner in Florida. But unfortunately, we do have
to discuss the end of his story. And it ends
far too soon. It does. On December 6th, 2014,
David Ferrier passed away. The details provided
in the source are just tragic. He suffered a
massive heart attack while he was driving his
truck on US Highway 301 near the Florida State
Fairgrounds. While driving, that is a terrifying
thought. He was rushed to Tampa General Hospital,
but they couldn't save him. He died at the age
of 52. 52. We see that age, or ages close to
it, so incredibly often with wrestlers from that
specific 80s and 90s era. The long -term toll
that lifestyle takes on the human heart is just
immense. It really is. But I think it's worth
noting that the WWE, this massive billion dollar
global corporation that he hadn't worked for
nearly 20 years, they actually issued an official
statement offering condolences a couple of days
later. They remembered him. They remembered the
work. And that is exactly what I want to focus
on as we move to wrap this up. Section seven,
the trophy case. Because it's so easy to just
joke about the sleazy dance and the pudgy stomach,
but this guy was a highly decorated, legitimate
champion. Let's see the roll call of his accomplishments.
It's an impressive list. Hit me with the list.
Let's cement his legacy. OK, in Smokey Mountain
Wrestling, he was a three -time tag team champion,
and he also held their Beat the Champ television
title in the USWA. World tag team champion. Back
in Florida championship wrestling. Tag team champion.
and his international resume. He was the Wing
World Junior Heavyweight Champion and the AWA
World Light Heavyweight Champion over in FMW.
So he was legitimately a world champion in Japan.
Twice. And on the independent circuit, he held
a PWF Junior Heavyweight title three times, the
FCW Light Heavyweight title, the IWA Mid -South
Light Heavyweight title. The list just goes on.
And didn't Pro Wrestling Illustrated, which is
basically the Bible of wrestling magazines at
the time, didn't they rank his team historically?
They did. In 2003, PWI released this massive,
definitive list called the best tag teams of
the PWI years. The heavenly bodies, specifically
the Delray and Prichard version of the team,
were ranked at number 73. Number 73. Just think
about how many thousands of tag teams have existed
in the history of the sport. To be recognized
in the top 100 is an elite exclusive club. It
absolutely cements their legacy. Yeah. They weren't
just a mid -card comedy act with a loaded tennis
racket. They were objectively one of the best
wrestling teams of their generation. So as we
synthesize all of this information from the records,
What is the big takeaway here? When we look at
the complete file of gigolo Jimmy Del Rey, what
do we see? I see a bridge. A bridge? He was a
bridge between two completely different eras
of the industry. On one hand, he had the old
school, carny sensibilities of the territory
days. He knew exactly how to make a crowd furious
just by looking at them or shaking his hips.
He knew the psychology of using a prop like a
tennis racket perfectly. That is the old school.
But the actual wrestling? The wrestling was entirely
new school. The flawless moonsaults, the intense
speed, the complex technical counters. He was
doing things in 1993 that wouldn't become the
industry standard until 2003. He lived in both
of those worlds simultaneously. And he did it
all while shaking his hips. While shaking his
hips. I have a provocative thought to leave you
with, listener. We look at professional wrestling
today. The modern athletes are undeniably incredible.
Everyone on television has an 8 -pack. They're
essentially gymnasts and acrobats. But is the
product missing something? Are you asking if
it's missing the gigolo? Exactly. Could a character
like Jimmy Del Rey even exist in today's landscape?
Could a guy with a totally average dad bod go
on national television, pull himself a gigolo,
and actually get real heat? Or would the modern
audience just reject him outright because he
doesn't look like an action figure? That is the
big question. Have we become so visually obsessed
with the look that we've lost the nuanced art
of the character worker? I don't know the answer.
But I do think there is something lost when every
single person on the roster looks like a fitness
model. There is a unique charm to the unlikely
agile athlete. The guy who looks like us but
moves like a superhero. It gives you hope. It
really does. So here is my homework for you.
If you have a moment after this deep dive, go
online. Search for Heavenly Bodies versus Rock
and Roll Express Survivor Series, 1993. Pay attention
to the finish. Watch the finish! Watch the jiggle
dance! But mostly, just watch the work. You will
see a master technician who knew exactly who
he was and exactly how to make you react. You
definitely won't regret watching it. That is
it for this depth dive into the life of Jimmy
Del Rey. Thanks for listening and we'll catch
you on the next one. Goodbye everyone!