Book Pro Wrestlers

No pyro. No LED screens. Just a plain box WWF truck and a time in wrestling I’ll always love.📍 January 6th, 1993 - Corpus Christi, Texas.

Back then, even the biggest show in town didn’t roll in with a motorcade. Just a dark box truck with the classic WWF logo on the side, parked by the curb, quietly unloading wrestling history.

Rob Moore was working overnights at KOUL 103.7. Free during the day. He walked to the Coliseum to get a ticket. No plan. No backstage pass. Just a fan. And what he found in that parking lot was something every fan dreams of.

There was Nasty Boy Jerry Sags, unloading his own gear. No handlers. No attitude. Just a guy doing the job. Rob introduced himself, offered to help, and Sags handed him a bag without hesitation. “Thanks, man, I got it,” he said as they reached the hotel.

Before Bret Hart became the face of the company. Before Undertaker had the urn lit in blue light. Before Shawn Michaels was crowned “The Showstopper.” They were all there — grinding, sweating, working their way toward greatness on a Texas house show that didn’t even have cameras rolling.

And if you were lucky, you kept the ticket stub, the story, and maybe a blurry picture that means more now than it ever did then.

📸 These photos? They’re from that night. And they were taken by Rob Moore — a guy who showed up early, stayed late, and never stopped loving wrestling.

That’s what Book Pro Wrestlers is about. Not just the matches — the memories.

— Steve Stasiak, Book Pro Wrestlers
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This week, the city of Warrensburg, Missouri unveiled new signage recognizing the Bruce Reed Memorial at Blind Boone Park, forever tying the legendary “Natural” Hacksaw Butch Reed to the place that helped shape his life.

When you hear “Butch Reed,” most wrestling fans think of the powerhouse who battled Hulk Hogan, Ric Flair, Junkyard Dog, and countless other stars across Mid-South, WCW, and the WWF. They remember the muscles, the intensity, the charisma, and the larger-than-life presence.

But to his family, he was just Bruce.

According to his brother Tim, long before the bright lights and sold-out arenas, the Reed family lived just down the road. They would walk their horses to the very land that is now Blind Boone Park and let them graze. The brothers rode there, worked there, played there, and built fences there, even hauling railroad ties to make posts. Tim said Butch loved being a cowboy as much as he loved being a professional wrestler, spending his school days sketching cowboys whenever he had the chance.

A kid who spent his childhood on that land eventually traveled the world, became one of wrestling’s biggest stars, and shared locker rooms with André the Giant, Ernie Ladd, Junkyard Dog, Hulk Hogan, and so many other legends.

Yet he never forgot where he came from.

After Bruce’s passing in 2021, his brother Tim made it his mission to make sure that legacy would live on. Through the Bruce Reed Memorial Fund, annual gatherings, and community barbecues, he has continued celebrating not only Bruce’s wrestling career but the kind of man he was away from the ring.

This year’s event, held on Juneteenth, also raised money for local causes including food banks and women’s shelters—turning remembrance into something that actively helps others.

One quote from Tim stayed with me:

“Me and Butch Reed have been all around the world—ain’t nothing matched Warrensburg.”

That says everything.
Championships fade. Television moments become history. But home is home.

Seeing Bruce Reed’s name permanently recognized where he once rode horses as a young boy feels bigger than wrestling. It’s a reminder that no matter how far life takes you, your roots matter. The people who watched you grow up matter. And sometimes the greatest honor isn’t found under arena lights—it’s being remembered by the community that knew you before the fame.

Congratulations to the Reed family and everyone who helped make this tribute possible.

Rest in peace, Butch Reed. Your hometown hasn’t forgotten you, and neither have wrestling fans.

— Steve Stasiak, Book Pro Wrestlers

I’ll never forget that first TNA Wrestling event in Huntsville, Alabama. It’s wild to think it’s been 24 years ago today.

Two weeks before that show, Jerry Jarrett called Tennessee promoter Bert Prentice in a panic — ticket sales were not doing well. Bert told him he’d help, but only if he could bring his own team. That team was us because we lived with Bert helping him run his Nashville promotion. (Leilani Kai, Anthony Ingram and myself.)

When he said pack your bags, we packed. We hit the road to Huntsville, and the moment we got there, we were put to work. We sat for hours cutting out tickets from giant cardboard sheets — thousands of them — and then hit the streets passing them out anywhere and everywhere. Bars, businesses, gas stations, parking lots… if you were breathing in Huntsville that week, we probably tried to hand you a ticket.

And it worked. When that first TNA event opened that night, the crowd came alive. It wasn’t easy — they took for granted that people would just show up — but we helped fill that building and make it feel like something special.

That turned into a couple of great years working under Bert Prentice and for TNA. We did everything — floor directing, setting up, running errands, whatever it took to keep things moving. Bert was a genius when it came to promotion, and those early days were a crash course in how to build something from the ground up.

Watching TNA set a new attendance record at Bound For Glory last year hit home for me. It brought everything full circle. From cutting those first tickets to seeing where the company is now… it’s pretty gratifying to know I was there at the start of it all.

The tickets shown here aren’t from that first night in Huntsville, but from one of the early pay-per-views at the Nashville Fairgrounds — the same kind we sat and cut by hand. They’re a small reminder of where it all began.

Here’s to 24 years of TNA Wrestling… and to everyone who believed in it when it was just an idea and a stack of cardboard tickets.

— Steve Stasiak, Book Pro Wrestlers

The only known fan photo of Jim Cornette and Big Bubba Rogers together. It’s a rare look at the beginning of Ray Traylor’s career before his days as The Big Boss Man in the WWF and then later a return to Big Bubba in WCW.

Ray was known to fiercely protect kayfabe. That’s one of the things that adds to the uniqueness of this photo, taken with our long term contributor - Bob Pivoroff. This was not an easy photo to get during this era.

Ray’s daughter Lacy is a reader of this page. She will see any memories that you guys would like to share of her father. Also, check out “The Bubba Cast” that she host.

— Steve Stasiak, Book Pro Wrestlers

The golden age of the WWF wasn't just an era - in 1988 it was an experience. The moment you walked through those arena doors, you were stepping into another world.

That massive blue-and-gold WWF banner hung like a badge of honor over the crowd, Howard Finkel's voice echoing through the building, and the air buzzing with the kind of excitement you could feel in your chest.

This was the time when wrestling was larger than life. Randy "Macho Man" Savage hit the aisle in a flash of sequins and color, André the Giant loomed over everyone in sight, "Hacksaw" Jim Duggan waved the 2x4 like a battle flag, and the Junkyard Dog had the crowd moving with every beat of his music. Rick Rude preened for the cameras, Bobby
"The Brain" Heenan orchestrated chaos from ringside, and Jesse "The Body" Ventura made sure no hero left without a little verbal fire. 🔥

The matches were only part of it - the real magic was in the atmosphere. Packed houses, fans screaming themselves hoarse, and moments that felt too big to be scripted. You didn't just watch the golden age... you lived it. And if you were lucky enough to be there, you know exactly why it will never be matched again.

- Steve Stasiak, Book Pro Wrestlers

The night before WrestleMania VI in Toronto's SkyDome - April 1st, 1990 - the wrestling world's biggest star wasn't throwing punches or breaking chairs. He was stealing the show at a Toronto hotel bar... with karaoke.

The Eighth Wonder of the World stepped up to the mic and launched into song. Then he took the fun to another level - ripping his shirt off mid-performance to the roar of the room. No ring or referee - just André, the microphone, and a stunned crowd who just seen something they'd be telling people about for the rest of their lives.

WrestleMania VI would be André's final televised WWF match in the United States. The next day, he'd step into the SkyDome for one last major appearance, but on this night, he was relaxed, smiling, and being one of the people.
It's the kind of story that lives forever in fan lore.

Because while André could dominate an arena of 67,000 people, he could also own a little karaoke stage in a Canadian hotel lounge - and even strip down for the encore.

- Steve Stasiak, Book Pro Wrestlers

WWF in Pittsburgh — 1990 to 1993 at the Civic Arena 🏟️✨

When the WWF rolled into the Pittsburgh Civic Arena in the early ‘90s, the atmosphere was electric from the parking lot to the rafters. Thanks to our contributor Chris Korbelic, we get to step right back into that world through his personal photo collection, all taken between 1990 and 1993.

It starts outside the arena, where fans lined the lot just to catch a glimpse of their heroes arriving. One shot captures Davey Boy Smith and Bret “Hitman” Hart squeezed into a small car, still wearing their travel expressions before stepping into their larger-than-life roles. Another frame catches Razor Ramon himself — Scott Hall — in his leather jacket, looking every bit the cool, dangerous newcomer on the rise.

The arrivals didn’t stop there. The legendary Undertaker, flanked by Paul Bearer, emerges into the Pittsburgh night, the two of them perfectly in character before they’ve even stepped through the curtain. Hercules is here too, swinging his signature chain in the ring — the kind of visual that could make an arena full of kids gasp in both awe and fear.

From there, it’s wall-to-wall in-ring action. You’ll see “Mr. Perfect” Curt Hennig in his golden singlet, dripping with confidence. Tag matches with pink-and-black Hart Foundation colors flying, powerhouses throwing each other around under the bright lights, high-flyers launching off the ropes, and the classic heel-vs-face drama that defined this era. Even from the stands, Chris’s photos capture the intensity — the body language, the colorful gear, and the sheer spectacle that made WWF events in this era unforgettable.

For fans who were there, these aren’t just pictures — they’re proof of what it felt like to be part of a crowd that roared with every entrance theme and lived for every near-fall. And for those who weren’t, it’s a chance to see the WWF during a time when the roster was stacked with personalities that have since become legends.

📸 All photos courtesy of Chris Korbelic — a time capsule from Pittsburgh’s Civic Arena and one of the most memorable runs the WWF ever had in the Steel City.

- Steve Stasiak, Book Pro Wrestlers

On the night Harley Race won his seventh World Heavyweight Championship, he didn’t raise the title to the crowd or pose for the press.

He pulled his family in close.

His son Justin holding the Missouri State Title.
His wife. His parents. His cousin.
All standing with him backstage—not because it was part of the show, but because it was part of the journey.

And Harley, soaked in sweat and wearing the belt that defined an era, looked into the camera and said—without saying a word—this is ours. It belongs to the Race family.

That’s what makes this photo so powerful.
Not that it breaks kayfabe.
Not that it’s rare.
But that it’s real.

This wasn’t about a crowd.
This wasn’t about a finish.
This was about family—the people who carried the weight long after the bell rang and the arena emptied.

He wanted them in the photo.
He wanted them in the memory.
Because the win wasn’t his alone.

And thanks to Justin Race, who continues to honor his father’s legacy with class and heart, we get to see it too.

This is more than wrestling history.
It’s a declaration.

This was ours.

— Steve Stasiak, Book Pro Wrestlers
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