In 1987, I was 8 years old and WWE was my life. It was the company’s original salad days, and I was definitely getting my vegetables, donning the red and yellow colors of Hulkamania and rooting on babyfaces like Paul Orndorff, Ricky “The Dragon” Steamboat, Brutus “The Barber” Beefcake and the Hart Foundation – all outlandish characters, none existing in the so-called gray area that most wrestlers occupy today.

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