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Bang Your Head: The Real Story of The Missing Link
“And in this corner, at 260 pounds, from Parts Unknown, it’s The Missing Link!”Wrestling fans around the world thrilled to those words in the mid-80s as the bizarre and volatile Missing Link would enter the ring. But then, he disappeared from wrestling as mysteriously as he appeared, and for more than a decade fans wondered what became of him. Now, the man behind that blue-and-green mask is finally stepping out to tell people the real story. No, he wasn’t a Stone Age throwback or even a refugee from a circus freak show ― he was veteran ring hero Dewey Robertson, known to wrestling fans for his all-Canadian looks, physique, and mastery of a thousand wrestling moves.Written in a plain-talk, straight-from-the heart style, Bang Your Head tells Dewey’s story from the very beginning ― growing up in the wrestling mecca of Hamilton, Ontario; becoming one of the stalwarts of Toronto’s Maple Leaf Wrestling promotion; moving to the southern United States to morph into one of wrestling’s most popular “goons”; losing his career and abusing alcohol and drugs; beicomng destitute and homeless for nearly a year; returning to Canada to begin a long road to recovery; and finally emerging victorious only to find that his fans were still waiting. The tremendous response to his appearances showed that interest in the Link was as strong as ever.Bang Your Head also gives fans an unprecedented look at the reality of a wrestler’s life outside the the weeks on the road away from family and friends, the constant risk of injury, loneliness, financial instability, strains on family life from constantly moving around to follow the work, and the easy access to women, alcohol, and drugs. Dewey is one of the few pros who will admit publicly that he used steroids, and graphically documents the damage they did to his health.
215 pages, Paperback
First published April 1, 2006
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
December 2, 2022
The Missing Link's autobiography was unexpectedly candid, well written, and brutally honest about the eighties oddity's 30+ year career, diving headfirst into his ongoing battles with marijuana and alcohol addiction, jumping from territory to territory, his failing marriage, and his thoughts on the wrestling industry. Usually you can tell when some of the legendary wrestlers use a ghostwriter predominantly in their books, but the Link is so personable and down to earth in his writing style that it feels like he almost didn't. The Link pours his soul out into every single one of these pages, admitting that his career was filled with regrettable decisions and a lot of low points. Only 202 pages, this was a breeze to go through and never felt like it dragged to me. This was a rare case of me knowing almost nothing about the wrestler-author beforehand and walking out of it with a newfound respect and admiration for an underappreciated legend.
December 24, 2019
What seemed like one of the most creative wrestling characters of the 1980s, all was not well outside of the ring for The Missing Link. Reflecting on his life in his autobiography, Dewey Robertson confesses to years ofdrug abuse, mistreating his wife, falling out with one of his children, and then hitting rock bottom. It's a tail of success and woe, two things that go hand in hand of wrestlers from his era
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 23, 2019
Dewey 'the Missing Link' Robertson's autobiography is far more poignant, thoughtful and reflective than I thought it would be. And if his admissions of wife-beating and of being so poor at the end of his career that he was reduced to eating out of dumpsters, are any guide, fairly honest in facing up to his shortcomings and problems.
For me, it was particularly interesting since, most of what I knew about his career is from watching a bit of early/mid-1980s World Class and Mid-South. Clearly he was getting on a bit then (he was past 40 when he adopted the Missing Link gimmick) so reading about his earlier career was enlightening.
True, he seems to have fallen into the trap many wrestlers do, of over-inflating their importance but he's hardly alone in that. After a little research of looking at results from the 1970s and noting where he was on most cards, it's hard to take seriously the idea he was ever even a outsider's pick to be NWA World Heavyweight champion. There's also a strange inconsistency (possibly down to the editing process) where he freely admits wrestling is predetermined yet also sometimes writes about matches almost as if they were real.
But, as someone with such a long, well-travelled career - from starting out in the early 1960s in Pittsburgh to being a big star (and NWA Canadian heavyweight champion) in late 1970s Toronto to working in big, major territories like Sam Muchnick's St Louis and its grim stepchild Kanasas City, Australia under Jim Barnett and Mid-Atlantic - Robertson has a lot of stories to tell. And he tells them well.
Examining his own childhood and it's legacy, a difficult relationship with his mother and missing out on sleep because he was literally dragging his alcoholic father into the house, he writes a lot about how, once he was living in Charlotte in the late 1970s he got so heavily, and ruinously, into alcohol, recreational drugs and steroids. He's very open about just what a terrible husband he was for so many years, too.
There's understandably a heavy focus on his most memorable years as the Missing Link from 1983, working for Bill Watts, Fritz Von Erich and, briefly, Vince McMahon. He writes a lot about World Class and, because he saw it at it's 1983-84 peak, its fascinating to read his thoughts on just how far, and how fast, the territory fell apart as the Von Erich death toll climbed. He never sticks the boot into Fritz as he probably should, even relaying the story of the faked heart attack without really passing comment on just how sleazy the whole episode was.
His account of Bill Watts' ambitious but failed national expansion of Mid-South/UWF is good, even when he reels off a list of wrestlers he reckons could have been as big as Hulk Hogan. Butch Reed? Hacksaw Duggan? JYD? Ted DiBiase? Jake Roberts? Big stars all of them but none of them were, or ever could have been Hogan.
Pushing 50 and with no real territorial system in existence by the end of the '80s, it's genuinely sad to read just how badly Robertson was struggling with his family, with poverty, with his mental health and with his addictions. The final section, on the early 2000s on his attempts at recovery and his work with children, are compelling, cautiously hopeful and uplifting stuff.
Dewey Robertson died in August 2007, of lung cancer, less than 18 months after this book, the writing of which he credits with helping him get his life back together, was released.
For me, it was particularly interesting since, most of what I knew about his career is from watching a bit of early/mid-1980s World Class and Mid-South. Clearly he was getting on a bit then (he was past 40 when he adopted the Missing Link gimmick) so reading about his earlier career was enlightening.
True, he seems to have fallen into the trap many wrestlers do, of over-inflating their importance but he's hardly alone in that. After a little research of looking at results from the 1970s and noting where he was on most cards, it's hard to take seriously the idea he was ever even a outsider's pick to be NWA World Heavyweight champion. There's also a strange inconsistency (possibly down to the editing process) where he freely admits wrestling is predetermined yet also sometimes writes about matches almost as if they were real.
But, as someone with such a long, well-travelled career - from starting out in the early 1960s in Pittsburgh to being a big star (and NWA Canadian heavyweight champion) in late 1970s Toronto to working in big, major territories like Sam Muchnick's St Louis and its grim stepchild Kanasas City, Australia under Jim Barnett and Mid-Atlantic - Robertson has a lot of stories to tell. And he tells them well.
Examining his own childhood and it's legacy, a difficult relationship with his mother and missing out on sleep because he was literally dragging his alcoholic father into the house, he writes a lot about how, once he was living in Charlotte in the late 1970s he got so heavily, and ruinously, into alcohol, recreational drugs and steroids. He's very open about just what a terrible husband he was for so many years, too.
There's understandably a heavy focus on his most memorable years as the Missing Link from 1983, working for Bill Watts, Fritz Von Erich and, briefly, Vince McMahon. He writes a lot about World Class and, because he saw it at it's 1983-84 peak, its fascinating to read his thoughts on just how far, and how fast, the territory fell apart as the Von Erich death toll climbed. He never sticks the boot into Fritz as he probably should, even relaying the story of the faked heart attack without really passing comment on just how sleazy the whole episode was.
His account of Bill Watts' ambitious but failed national expansion of Mid-South/UWF is good, even when he reels off a list of wrestlers he reckons could have been as big as Hulk Hogan. Butch Reed? Hacksaw Duggan? JYD? Ted DiBiase? Jake Roberts? Big stars all of them but none of them were, or ever could have been Hogan.
Pushing 50 and with no real territorial system in existence by the end of the '80s, it's genuinely sad to read just how badly Robertson was struggling with his family, with poverty, with his mental health and with his addictions. The final section, on the early 2000s on his attempts at recovery and his work with children, are compelling, cautiously hopeful and uplifting stuff.
Dewey Robertson died in August 2007, of lung cancer, less than 18 months after this book, the writing of which he credits with helping him get his life back together, was released.
July 3, 2011
Given Greg Oliver's involvement in this project, I'm not surprised that Dewey Robertson's autobiography turned out to be a lucid, interesting read. Robertson's career spanned a very long stretch of time, from the heyday of the territories to the rebirth of the WWF under Vince McMahon, Jr., and he does a competent job recounting his experiences during this period. His description of his descent into alcohol, sex, and marijuana addiction is particularly cogent and sincere.
November 25, 2022
Not a must-read, but okay for genre fans
Interesting enough subject matter on the wrestling frony, but the 12-step bits are pretty much C&P from everything in that pile and kind of weigh it down.
Interesting enough subject matter on the wrestling frony, but the 12-step bits are pretty much C&P from everything in that pile and kind of weigh it down.
January 2, 2025
This is a complete autobiography of one of wrestling’s more colorful “heels”, a grappler with the character of a “bad guy.” Bang Your Head is complete in the sense that it covers the arc from Dewey’s childhood to wrestling introduction in Canada to even meeting his co-writer and his current post-career activities. Beginning with an interest in body building and the art of wrestling, a young Dewey Robertson became more and more a 24/7 actor playing the role of The Missing Link, a mysterious and unpredictable actor on a colorful and ostentatious stage.
Anyone interested in making sense of the alphabet soup of wrestling federations and how the WWF/WWE rose from the din can benefit from Robertson’s travels between the federations and insider’s insight. Dewey spent more time out of the WWF/WWE than in it. In comparing the regional and organization differences to the various wrestling organizations there emerges a complete picture of the growth and development of theatrical, “predetermined” wrestling into a popular pastime.
Just as enlightening is Dewey’s frank discussion of his descent into substance and steroid abuse. Robertson does a fine balance in the telling and this becomes neither a tawdry tell-all or a preachy lesson. In so doing, the juicy bits come out in sufficient detail and the moral is clear. What is not clear, and would be a story worth telling is how it looked from the outside. Insights from his children (both sons would go into wrestling) and wife would be especially telling. Mrs. Peterson, especially, emerges as an unknown but pivotal elemental of this colorful life. As The Missing Link took his family from high living to low, from state to state, from home ownership to renting at nudist colonies, the matriarch kept everything together with or without money, with or without a present husband.
In the final summation of it, this is a tale of survival. Surviving self-destructive behavior and gaining self-knowledge, Dewey Robertson appears to be one of the lucky ones and his story takes us down a trail littered with the dead, the broken and the forgotten.
[My review that ran, among other places, on ink19.com]
Anyone interested in making sense of the alphabet soup of wrestling federations and how the WWF/WWE rose from the din can benefit from Robertson’s travels between the federations and insider’s insight. Dewey spent more time out of the WWF/WWE than in it. In comparing the regional and organization differences to the various wrestling organizations there emerges a complete picture of the growth and development of theatrical, “predetermined” wrestling into a popular pastime.
Just as enlightening is Dewey’s frank discussion of his descent into substance and steroid abuse. Robertson does a fine balance in the telling and this becomes neither a tawdry tell-all or a preachy lesson. In so doing, the juicy bits come out in sufficient detail and the moral is clear. What is not clear, and would be a story worth telling is how it looked from the outside. Insights from his children (both sons would go into wrestling) and wife would be especially telling. Mrs. Peterson, especially, emerges as an unknown but pivotal elemental of this colorful life. As The Missing Link took his family from high living to low, from state to state, from home ownership to renting at nudist colonies, the matriarch kept everything together with or without money, with or without a present husband.
In the final summation of it, this is a tale of survival. Surviving self-destructive behavior and gaining self-knowledge, Dewey Robertson appears to be one of the lucky ones and his story takes us down a trail littered with the dead, the broken and the forgotten.
[My review that ran, among other places, on ink19.com]
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews