Page 189 - Titanic: Forbidden Stories Hollywood Forgot

Titanic! 175

He squeezed my jaw in his big hand. His biceps
bulged. His hairy pecs mounded as he squeezed me.
“That’s my boy,” he said. “I am what I am. You are what
you are.” He released the pressure. “Go get big,” he said.
“And don’t trim that moustache. Grow it big.”
A week later I checked into Buzz Spaulding’s Training
Camp. Buzz had played pro football for six years as a
linebacker before a cash offer he couldn’t refuse lured
him to the Professional Wrestling Federation. The rich
backer who hired him on wasn’t interested so much in
what Buzz could do in the ring as in what he could do
for the “pro-gladiators” in the Federation.
Size was the name of the game. Wrestlers. Footballers.
Recruit ’em younger. Train ’em harder. Grow ’em bigger.
Unleash ’em into pro sports. Buzz got an underground
reputation. He was turning boys into men and men into
giants with one interesting side effect none of his proteges
could stop bragging about. Almost any strength-camp
coach could, in a year, turn a 5-7, 170-pound kid into a
220-pound fireplug with 22-inch arms, or a 6-2, 200 man
into a 275-pound no-neck behemoth who’d make Hulk
Hogan and Arnold take notice.
What no one did, the way Buzz Spaulding did, was
make cocks grow big, bigger, massive!
Buzz Spaulding had invented the better mouse trap
and the world was beating off a path to his door. If Buzz
and my dad hadn’t gone way back, I’d never have gotten
into the Training Camp of my dreams.
My first night in the dorm, I was too green, too excited,
too hardon for action to sleep, so I did what any normal
18-year-old horny kid would do. I left my room to prowl
the premises, cruising the other rooms with open doors,

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