Golayitdown
Veteran
LONG READ, but there's NO way a tell all book from Vince wouldn't be the GOAT book. There's a quotable for damn near every answer 

Get ready for X-rated football. After the Super Bowl (that showcase for prima donnas and pantywaists) comes a whole new ball game--a game with more blood and guts, kicks in the nuts and sheer smash mouth spectacle than the cold, corporate National Football League could ever give you.
That's the hype, anyway. And whether you call it XFL PR or XFL BS, this new pro league is a bold play by XFL founder Vince McMahon, the hypemaster with balls as brassy as the wrestling shows that made him a billionaire.
Will the XFL win America's football fans over? NBC thought enough of its chances that the network invested $50 million in the league and will televise XFL games in prime time. The reason? McMahon, the giant-killer who turned pro wrestling from an obscure sideshow into a TV heavyweight more popular than college football or the NBA. He's the starmaker who turned Steve Williams and Dwayne Johnson into Stone Cold Steve Austin and the Rock, two of the biggest names in trashtainment. McMahon, 55, is the guy who created modern pro wrestling by admitting that the sport is fake. He let fans in on the joke, then proceeded to bowl them over with a sublimely ridiculous show, a crazed sitcom or soap complete with lewd jokes, backstage intrigue and operatic wars in the ring. Fake? Of course! Everybody knew it, and millions of World Wrestling Federation fans played along with the gag. Unlike the rubes they're purported to be, WWF lovers are attuned to modern media: At one of the WWF's weekly Raw Is War spectaculars, a McMahon fan held up a sign that read MONDAY NIGHT FOOTBALL IS FAKE.
What's real and what's fake? McMahon knows the difference. And of all the things he is--WWF kingpin, actor-brawler playing the evil Mr. McMahon in his own shows, XFL creator, proud father, horny husband, Forbes 400 media mogul--he is foremost a fighter. His ring exploits may be a soap opera on steroids, but go up against him in a boardroom or a back alley and you're in for a beating.
McMahon grew up in Havelock, North Carolina, with an abusive stepfather and a mean streak wider than a country road. He learned to fight dirty. After years of street brawls and minor crimes, young Vince got shipped off to military school, where he was court-martialed. But somehow he stayed out of jail long enough to run headlong into a game as reckless and raw as he was, a game that was in his blood.
On a trip to visit his real father--a man long divorced from Vince's vivacious, five-times-married mother--the kid got a look at dad's business: pro wrestling, a "sport" that featured snarling men in leotards who pretended to beat the crap out of each other. It was the same sideshow his grandfather had promoted before Vince's father took over, and the boy was hooked in a heartbeat. But his dad told him to find steadier work. "Get a nice government job," said his father. Only after years of waiting and pestering was Vince McMahon allowed to promote a few cards in the backwaters of his father's wrestling circuit.
The rest is a hell of a story line: Eager young huckster turns regional circuit into national spectacle, body-slams cable competitors, gets famous, expands empire into action figures and restaurants, makes first billion, rides 150 mph motorcycle into sunset.
Except that in this story, nothing is as simple as it seems. In fact, McMahon's road to the top was full of potholes. There was bankruptcy, federal charges that he'd distributed steroids to wrestlers, a media war with Ted Turner. There was trouble in his marriage to Linda McMahon, the highschool sweetheart who became his wife and chief executive of the WWF. There was the death of WWF star Owen Hart in a ring accident, and McMahon's decision to let the show go on after Hart's body was whisked away. There was and is the persistent charge that McMahon is a cultural bogeyman, a panderer who owes his wealth to bulked-up lugs and their babes, cartoon pimps and their ho trains--the lowest of lowbrow TV.
McMahon answers with a shrug: "That's what the people want."
He can afford to be a little smug. After trailing Turner's World Championship Wrestling in the ratings for almost 100 straight weeks, McMahon's WWF smacked its rival down and now crushes WCW week after week. Chyna, the WWF women's star, got raw in the November 2000 PLAYBOY and made that issue a newsstand sellout. The Rock drew roars at last summer's Republican Convention, then turned up at the MTV awards and got bigger props than Eminem. And now, with Stone Cold Steve Austin back from injury rehab to complete the all-star team and the XFL about to kick off its inaugural season, McMahon is the most powerful figure in the field that he calls sports entertainment.
Is the McMahon of the hour a hero or a villain--in wrestling talk, a face or a heel? What makes him tick people off? And just how good is he in bed? We sent sports talker Kevin Cook, who hosts a daily show, The Skybox, on eYada.com, to ask. Cook reports:
"McMahon is as subtle as a concussion. He's big--6'2", 230--and in scary shape for a man of 55. He ticked me off at first. I arrived on time at WWF headquarters, a glass box in Stamford, Connecticut festooned with big black flags that make the building look like a pirate ship, and I waited for three hours while he finished up some business meetings. Pacing in his reception room, I watched that Monday's Raw Is War on 12 screens flanking a backlit WWF logo on the wall. A portrait of the rock glared down at a jumbo floral display in the middle of the room. The flowers were plastic.
"At last I was ushered into his office: black-and-white wallpaper, stark red highlights, WWF magazines and posters neatly arrayed, a panoramic fourth-floor view of leafy Stamford with Long Island Sound in the distance. After a muscular handshake he said, 'Let's go.'
"In the next three-plus hours he would laugh a lot, roll his eyes theatrically, whistle for effect, jump from his chair to act out wrestling moves. He would talk openly about his businesses, his background, his family, about love and Raw and feeling like you have a 12-foot penis, and he would carefully couch a surprising revelation about sexual abuse.
"I'm no WWF fan, but after hours of back-and-forth with McMahon as dusk and then darkness rolled over Stamford, I can tell you that I'd want this guy on my side in a fight.
"With the first XFL games coming in February, we started with football talk."
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Unless your drunk or something. Something weird had to have happened that he doesn't want to bring up or he has suppressed it.