(Photo by Michael Buckner/Getty Images)

Mick Foley is a few french fries short of a happy meal. The train stops just a bit short of the station ramp, and his brain has seen more barb wire than Pamela Anderson's arm, but Cactus Jack is one hell of a winner in my book.

Let me tell you why...

Back in the day, when Cactus Jack was toiling in the WCW, I and my buddies were rabid WCW wrestling fans, I had an encounter with Cactus Jack. It was right about the time that Dusty Rhodes was still cool, and Ric Flair was in his prime.  

It was also a time when jobbers existed for extended periods of time, and they became fan favorites on occasion. While Foley was no jobber, he was known to lose on plenty of occasions back then. Usually that job included blood if it was a house show so he was always a match to look forward to for our warped testosterone charged teen-aged brains.

This was back in the day when house shows were very common, and the old WCW used to come to Greensboro, North Carolina every other month it seemed at a minimum. Yes, this was the same Greensboro, North Carolina that lays claim to the birth of the Four Horsemen though some would argue that fact.

At a time when Flair, Dusty, Arn Anderson, Nikita Koloff, Magnum TA, and others were at the pinnacle of the WCW wrestling world, Cactus Jack came to bleed for them and others. He always found a way.

At one of these house shows, I got the honor of meeting Cactus Jack, as well as Mick Foley.  

Me and a couple of my buddies was sitting by the popcorn stands scoping out some chicks that were standing across the way. I had my Member's Only jacket on, and my mullet haired buddies were looking as good as they could look with those haircuts. After making no inroads at all with the chicks, we decided to go back to our seats.

As we turned to go, I caught a glimpse of a large man coming from the arena floor area and walking over to the pay phone. After a moment or two of staring, I realized that it was in fact, Cactus Jack himself.

I jabbed my buddies and told them who it was, and they turned and verified that I was not losing my mind. Here was Cactus Jack, talking on the pay phone out in the causeway. He was in his street clothes, and looked like any other Joe among the crowd at the time. He had his hair back in a pony tail, and the tell tale stitches across his forehead.

He turned for one moment and acknowledged us standing there. We kept our distance and kind of acted as though we were unaware of him. Our attempt at being cool was kind of funny, really. We went back to checking out the chicks again, and occasionally looked over to the phone to see if he was off yet so we could ask for a graph.

My buddies were whistling at these chicks over and over, and really acting like morons and ruining any chances that we might have with them.  

On one of the times we looked back over to see if he was still on the phone, he was gone. Damn!  We missed him...Then suddenly from just over our shoulders and behind us, we heard "Bang! Bang!"

Foley had snuck up behind us and scared the shit out of us. Every one of us nearly jumped out of our skin. Foley started laughing and you could tell he got a big kick out of that. He started introducing himself and dutifully signed a couple of autographs for us. Oddly, nobody else even seemed to know who he was, and pretty much left us alone.

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