In a year that has seen several wrestling legends take their final bows, Terry Funk’s death this week at age 79 is arguably the most poignant. Where “Superstar” Billy Graham, who died in May, might have provided the template for a certain type of musclebound, trash-talking main-eventer, Funk—who seemingly wrestled everywhere and worked every style throughout a five-decade career—arguably pioneered everything else. From epic world championship battles to empty-arena matches, hard-hitting All Japan brawling to Hollywood, Funk did it all, did it well, and did much of it years or even decades before his peers caught up.
Wrestling defined Terry Funk’s life. His father, Dory Funk Sr., served as the promoter of the Amarillo territory in Texas and his brother, Dory Jr., preceded him in the ring and as holder of the NWA Worlds Heavyweight Championship. Dory Jr. also preceded him on the West Texas State University football field. A natural athlete, Terry more than held his own on the gridiron, but wrestling was in his blood: “I might have stayed [and finished my degree],” he wrote in his autobiography, Terry Funk: More Than Just Hardcore, “but I’d had a taste of my father’s territory for a few months. So I just said, ‘the hell with it,’ quit school, and never looked back.”
Funk’s hard-nosed, relentless approach quickly gained notice among fans and promoters alike—he could wrestle the technical, mat-based NWA style, but he could also incorporate Texas-style brawling into his repertoire. Terry and Dory Jr. became a formidable tag team, capturing several regional titles in the latter half of the 1960s. However, it was Terry’s singles career that would cement his legacy. His progression through the ranks was rapid, driven by an unmatched intensity and a willingness to take risks that other wrestlers of his era would shy away from.
From the outset, Terry made a habit of moving around through the various NWA territories, wrestling top guys and studying their styles. He also made a decision that would set the stage for an extraordinary melding of cultural approaches to wrestling: He set off for Japan. When Dory Jr. returned to the Japan Pro Wrestling Alliance in July of 1970, eight months after his first successful tour there as a world champion, he brought Terry along with him. Terry was treated respectfully, enduring his only loss in singles competition at the hands of Antonio Inoki during a best-of-three-falls contest that saw Funk successfully capture a fall from Inoki. At the conclusion of the tour, the Funk brothers teamed up in a failed attempt to capture the NWA International Tag Team Championships from Inoki and Giant Baba. The Funks would successfully capture the tag titles from Inoki and Baba the following year, spoiling BI Cannon’s multiyear championship reign.
The 1973 collapse of JWA transpired while the NWA International Tag Team Championships were in the possession of “Killer” Karl Krupp and Fritz Von Erich. With Krupp being a regular performer in the Funks’ Western States territory and Von Erich not needing an additional pair of tag belts in his Big Time Wrestling promotion, the Funks effectively acquired control of Japan’s most cherished set of tag titles. The Funks were the custodians of the NWA International titles until 1975, when Giant Baba and Jumbo Tsuruta—an Olympic wrestler with immense potential whom the Funks helped train—would journey to San Antonio and defeat the Funks, reclaiming the NWA International titles for Japan and All Japan Pro Wrestling.
By this point, the Funks had firmly established themselves as Giant Baba loyalists in the battle for promotional supremacy in Japan, which Terry saw as an overall good thing for the country’s wrestling fans: “It produced the talent mixtures and the variety of styles that enabled people to see so many different types of wrestling,” he wrote in his autobiography. On top of that, Terry was a major drawing card—he had become the NWA Worlds Heavyweight Champion.
In 1975, Terry Funk reached the pinnacle of the sport. Dory Funk Jr. was originally scheduled for a title shot against Jack Brisco in Miami. When Dory failed to appear for the match, Terry stepped in and defeated Brisco, beginning a 14-month title reign. Squeezed within those 14 months, Funk’s Japanese debut as the NWA’s standard-bearer was an atypical affair, but characteristic of how Funk did business: “There was never any question that I would make every guy I was in there with look more like a champion than he did before he got in there with me,” he wrote.
Funk’s title reign came to an end in Toronto in a hard-fought match against Harley Race that Funk lost by submission. “I never cared about doing jobs, and that one, in particular, was about doing what was right for the business,” he wrote. Terry distinguished his title reign from Dory Jr.’s, explaining in his autobiography that he preferred shorter feuds and flashier, less technical matches because “I was there to make as much money as I could, as fast as I could.” He claimed to have made $400,000 during his reign and expressed regret that he couldn’t have kept it going for another year, but he and his wife, Vicki, whom he married in 1965, had reconciled. He wanted to spend more time with her; he could no longer work the hectic schedule of a champion.
But Terry kept working. He started appearing in movies, kicking off a lifelong friendship with Sylvester Stallone by playing Frankie the Thumper in 1978’s Paradise Alley. Terry caught the attention of Stallone, who was attempting to follow up the success of Rocky with a pro wrestling period piece, clinching the role with a short video audition done in the wild and wooly style he’d cultivated during the previous decade. While Terry ventured into other acting and stunt gigs—he had memorable turns as a menacing tough guy in Stallone’s arm-wrestling film Over the Top and Patrick Swayze’s Road House—he consistently returned to wrestling, much like They Live star “Rowdy” Roddy Piper. For Funk, acting had great value: The various commercials he did offered high pay for little work, and by acting on a somewhat consistent basis, he qualified for Screen Actors Guild insurance (wrestling, by contrast, offered none).
Also, following the end of Terry’s world title run, the Funks achieved another impressive cultural feat: They began to get booked in Japan similarly to heroic native Japanese wrestlers, competing as valiant American cowboys against villainous foreigners like Abdullah the Butcher and “The Sheik” Ed Farhat. The legend of the “Texas Broncos” in Japan took shape during the tag matches held in All Japan during the late 1970s and early 1980s, where JWA and its spiritual successor All Japan would offer big money to prominent wrestlers to participate in annual round-robin world championship tournaments. In the Funks’ case, their victories in the World Open Tag Championship of 1977, and then the World’s Strongest Tag Determination League in 1979 and 1982, cemented them in the minds of many Japanese fans as the best tag team of their generation. Terry, per his own admission, preferred working as a heel—“I made a better heel than a babyface,” he wrote in his autobiography—but he always gave the crowd what they wanted.
Just as the Funks aided in the safe return of the NWA International tag titles to Japan, Terry and Dory Jr. would also play a prominent role in the return of the NWA International Heavyweight Championship (which was being defended by Kintaro Ohki in International Wrestling Enterprise and at his own shows in South Korea without the NWA’s blessing) to Japan as well. After Ohki accepted a lesser championship in exchange for returning the treasured title belt he’d absconded with to Korea, Dory Jr. would be awarded the NWA International title after an injured Bruiser Brody no-showed the tournament final. That same night, Dory Jr. would make his first defense of the most storied championship in the history of puroresu against the winner of a lottery drawing: his brother, Terry. The two would wage a largely technical war for 54 minutes before Dory reversed his brother’s pinning combination and departed with his title reign intact. According to Funk’s autobiography, “[the match is] remembered as greater than it was. People say, ‘wow, you wrestled your own brother? That was something!’”
Back in the U.S., Terry Funk wrote his name in the annals of Jerry Jarrett’s Continental Wrestling Association by locking horns with Jerry Lawler. Their fierce rivalry reached its zenith in April of 1981, when the two grappled within the deserted confines of the Mid South Coliseum in Memphis. Just a handful of spectators were at ringside—commentator Lance Russell (who, per Funk, was forced to snuff his cigarette when the tape started), a cameraman, and a photographer. “The idea of the match was that I had been saying Lawler always played to the fans and drew strength from them so I wanted a match where there would be no fans,” Funk wrote in his autobiography. Much like his famous “I Quit” match with Ric Flair a decade later, much of the dramatic power of the empty-arena match came from the dialogue supplied by the combatants. “I figured, since no one was making noise, that I’d go ahead and provide the noise,” wrote Funk, recalling how he’d scream “Oh God no, Jerry!” when Lawler was brutalizing him.
August 31, 1983, would mark the first of Terry’s seemingly endless string of retirements from professional wrestling. Following a bout in which the Funks defeated Stan Hansen and Terry Gordy, he delivered a passionate retirement speech. After the speech, he declared that Japan was “...number one forever! And ever!” and repeated the word “forever” until he was drowned out by deafening chants of “Terry!” from the audience.
As would become his predictable pattern, Funk recanted his Japan retirement just one year after the tear-inducing event. However, the Funks never recaptured their prior momentum, which was OK with Terry: “I unselfishly gave that company three years to get back on track and then willingly gave up my position as one of its top attractions,” he wrote in his autobiography. The Funks would participate in several events in All Japan between 1984 and 1990, but by then, the “gaijin” spotlight had drifted over to younger wrestlers.
Shifting gears to 1985, Terry Funk stormed into the World Wrestling Federation amid its nationwide expansion, seizing another prime opportunity to get paid. Working for the company was a logical move in a career full of shrewd ones; in Funk’s estimation, “(Vince) McMahon is the smartest man in wrestling,” and he had everything needed to pull off a successful national expansion where others had failed. On top of that, Terry saw himself as a traveling attraction, and McMahon was running the biggest traveling show in the United States.
Funk’s initial appearance on Championship Wrestling was a spectacle in itself. Not only did he triumph over Aldo Marino, but he also took exception to ring announcer Mel Phillips, launching an attack on him over a seemingly innocuous act—Phillips trying on Funk’s cowboy hat—that would become a defining part of Terry’s WWF persona. In the WWF, Terry realigned with Dory Jr. (who rechristened himself “Hoss” Funk) and their storyline sibling Jimmy Jack Funk (Jesse Barr). With manager Jimmy Hart, the Funk trio engaged in several high-profile feuds, including one with Junkyard Dog that culminated in a tag match pitting the (actual) Funk brothers against JYD and Tito Santana at WrestleMania 2.
Additionally, Terry’s main-event prowess was showcased in multiple title challenges against world champion Hulk Hogan—he didn’t get to work a pay-per-view main event with Hogan, but he got the money from touring with him. Funk always did what was best for the business, but by April of 1986, the WWF’s touring schedule had become unbearable, and Funk did what was best for him—he left the company.
As Terry Funk transitioned into what could be hailed as the last legendary mainstream chapter of his career before his extended “hardcore” phase, he entered World Championship Wrestling in 1989, aligning himself with Gary Hart’s J-Tex Corporation alongside Buzz Sawyer, the Great Muta, and Dick Slater. He crossed paths with Flair, the freshly minted NWA Worlds Heavyweight Champion, following Flair’s victory over Ricky Steamboat at WrestleWar. Despite Funk being a judge for Flair and Steamboat’s final bout, Flair immediately dismissed Funk’s challenge for a title shot, citing Funk’s recent Hollywood distractions (Road House hit theaters the same month as WrestleWar). Flair’s perceived slight provoked Funk to retaliate, incapacitating the champion with a piledriver at ringside. But the feud didn’t end there. Funk, Gary Hart, and Slater put a plastic bag over Flair’s head on the nationally televised Clash of Champions VIII in September of 1989, sparking outrage. “That angle was way over the top for TBS, and their phone lines lit up moments after we did it,” wrote Gary Hart in his autobiography.
As their feud intensified through a series of brutal heel interviews that, according to Funk, offended even the notorious Flair (“I had never before been asked to take it down a notch because someone’s feelings were hurt,” Funk wrote), the pair met in a riveting “I Quit” match at Clash of the Champions IX in November, throughout which Funk taunted and harassed Flair, trying to get him to give up. The contest reached its crescendo when Flair, employing the Figure Four leglock, coerced Funk into submission—Funk’s “Yes, I quit!” exclamation is the stuff of nightmares.
Prior to the Monday Night Wars, Funk would have another strong run in WCW, facing off against Tully Blanchard at Slamboree 1994 and working alongside Colonel Robert Parker’s “Stud Stable” of Bunkhouse Buck, Arn Anderson, and Meng against Dusty and Dustin Rhodes in one of Dusty’s last high-profile feuds. But nothing could recapture the magic of 1989; Funk claimed that “having to tone down the heat” in his feud with Flair prevented its box office earnings from being even stronger.
On the international front, Terry departed from All Japan as a regular performer midway through 1991. When he finally returned to a Japanese battleground, it was in May of 1993 to support Atsushi Onita, who had embraced the extremes of wrestling that Funk had helped to inspire while forming his own company, Frontier Martial-Arts Wrestling.
If Funk’s appearances for FMW and ECW in 1993 and 1994 signaled his endorsement of the new brand of hardcore wrestling, then his participation in IWA Japan cemented him as one of the foremost hardcore wrestling icons of all eras. Funk’s showing in IWA Japan’s 1995 King of the Deathmatch tournament would add a new dimension to his legend. During that violent spectacle, the 51-year-old Funk subjected himself to the collective physical toll of three separate death matches during a single evening before falling to Cactus Jack in the finals.
The final bout between Funk and Jack is often cited as a watershed moment in the mainstreaming of hardcore wrestling, the birth of the North American backyard wrestling phenomenon, and in some circles, the ultimate symbolic death of the NWA. For one of the NWA’s most beloved champions of the 1970s to embrace the most extreme elements of a brand of wrestling often dismissed as artless was regarded as an unthinkable act by many pro wrestling purists—but for Funk, pro wrestling was all about evolving to keep your earning power strong.
Domestically, Terry Funk cemented himself as the most protean of all wrestling legends, gracing all three major promotions—WWF, WCW, and ECW—and wrestling a style all his own. After that brief WCW stint in 1993 and 1994, he turned his attention to the budding ECW, offering his renowned talent to establish their brand. Memorable moments here included grueling matches against Cactus Jack, Shane Douglas, and Sabu. Notably, at Barely Legal in 1997, Funk triumphed over Raven, capturing the ECW World Heavyweight Championship.
In a nod to his indomitable spirit, Funk showcased his resilience when he and Sabu were entangled in a deadly barbed wire match, the last in the violent history of ECW—“That show was one of the worst deals I ever got myself into,” he wrote, recalling with horror how he nearly choked himself out in the barbed wire while Sabu’s arm was torn so badly that it exposed his biceps muscle. A more touching tribute was paid in Funk’s hometown of Amarillo during another ostensible retirement match held at “Terry Funk’s WrestleFest.” Though he lost to handpicked opponent and WWF champion Bret Hart in a throwback brawl, ECW magnate Paul Heyman honored Funk with a title acknowledging his lifelong contributions to the wrestling world.
By the end of 1997, Funk reemerged in the WWF as Chainsaw Charlie, partnering with Cactus Jack, one of Mick Foley’s alter egos. Their crowning achievement was capturing the WWF Tag Team Championships at WrestleMania XIV. (Their reign lasted only until the first Raw after ’Mania.) Funk’s media profile also continued to expand: Beyond the Mat, a 1999 wrestling documentary that set the stage for many to come, profiled Funk as he contemplated retirement for the umpteenth time. “What you see in that movie is pretty much how I am,” Funk wrote.
The dawn of the millennium saw Funk making waves in WCW. With three WCW Hardcore Championship titles to his name, he made a mark during the company’s decline. His versatility shone as he donned the hat of WCW commissioner and even spearheaded the Old Age Outlaws (Funk, Arn Anderson, Larry Zbyszko, and the late Paul Orndorff). The WWF defeating—and then purchasing—WCW didn’t surprise Funk: “There was so much chaos there that no one could accomplish anything … it was constant change,” he remembered.
In the extended twilight of his career, Funk stayed active, maintaining his relevance. Funk showcased his versatility with various stints in Ring of Honor, TNA, Major League Wrestling, and other prominent promotions throughout the 2000s. Whether battling younger stars in hardcore matches or playing pivotal roles in WWE narratives, Funk’s dedication to the sport never waned. He kept making unexpected returns to the independent circuit, despite claiming retirement on numerous occasions—a poignant declaration he had been perfecting since his first retirement in 1983, long before Ric Flair’s “Last Match.” Subsequent returns to WWE and his enshrinement into its Hall of Fame highlighted Funk’s enduring connection with the sport’s largest promotion.
Funk’s relentless fighting spirit saw him grapple, slam, and battle in the ring right up until 2017. While the chants of “fight forever” resonated with his heart, even legends have their curtain calls. Terry Funk may not have been able to fight forever, but his inimitable legacy assures us that he gave it everything he had and fought as long and creatively as he possibly could. But Funk understood his time was finite and precious: “The only thing that’s going to have longevity in this business is wrestling itself,” he wrote. “After a period of time, the acrobatics are gone, the hardcore is gone, and so it goes. But wrestling will never be gone.” Nor, for that matter, will the legend of Terry Funk.
Ian Douglass is a journalist and historian who is originally from Southfield, Michigan. He is the coauthor of several pro wrestling autobiographies, and is the author of Bahamian Rhapsody, a book about the history of professional wrestling in the Bahamas, which is available on Amazon. You can follow him on Twitter (@Streamglass) and read more of his work at iandouglass.net.
Oliver Lee Bateman is a journalist and sports historian who lives in Pittsburgh. You can follow him on Twitter (@MoustacheClubUS) and read more of his work at oliverbateman.com.
