Football Dynasty-Chapter 43: Breaking Into Showbiz

Where a lavish buffet is spread across long, polished tables draped in crisp white linen, the room is bathed in the soft glow of elegant chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings. Their warm, golden light reflects off the polished floors, casting a serene ambiance over the gathering.

This is the Hilton lounge—elite, sophisticated, and relaxed, as guests in tailored suits and evening gowns mingle, sipping champagne and exchanging pleasantries.

"Mr. McMahon, congratulations!" A tall, well-dressed man extended his hand with a warm smile.

"Haha, thank you," Vince McMahon responded, a hint of pride in his tone. His eyes gleamed as he shook the man's hand, looking every bit the part of a business mogul in his tailored suit.

"Mr. McMahon, it seems your WWF is really on the rise," another voice chimed in.

"Haha, you're too kind," Vince chuckled, clearly enjoying the attention.

"Mr. McMahon..."

It couldn't be helped. McMahon gained significant traction when he hired American Wrestling Association talent Hulk Hogan, who had achieved popularity outside of wrestling, notably for his appearance in the film Rocky III.

He also signed Roddy Piper as Hogan's rival, and shortly afterward, Jesse Ventura as an announcer.

Other wrestlers joined the roster, such as The Iron Sheik, Nikolai Volkoff, Junkyard Dog, Paul Orndorff, Greg Valentine, and Ricky Steamboat, adding to the existing stars like Jimmy Snuka, Don Muraco, Sgt. Slaughter, and André the Giant.

However, beneath the smile of the young McMahon, there was a heavy pressure that no one truly knew about—a weight that he had to shoulder alone.

The WWF was on the verge of financial collapse.

This was the first international WWF tour, and each venture naturally required a massive capital investment.

Everything had been calculated—the fixed and variable costs of such an event—but even he hadn't anticipated the storm that would hit before his groundbreaking concept, WrestleMania, had even launched.

The WWF was hit with allegations of steroid abuse and distribution. The steroid trial alone cost the company an estimated $5 million, all during a time of record-low revenues.

Despite having a large audience and growing popularity, the high variable costs were slowly eating away at any potential profit, leaving the company in a financial mess.

It was no secret that he succeeded in getting WWF programming syndicated across the United States. This angered other promoters and disrupted the well-established boundaries between different wrestling promotions, known as the territory system, which had been in use since the founding of the National Wrestling Alliance.

This made McMahon helpless. As a result, he had no choice but to create a new script and promote younger wrestlers. But this brought him back to the original problem.

Money.

McMahon released a frustrated breath, his mind struggling to find a way to get his innovative WrestleMania off the ground.

To truly turn the WWF into a national promotion, he needed to have the WWF touring the entire United States. But right now, that was impossible with the revenue they currently had. So, he envisioned a way to obtain the necessary capital through a risky all-or-nothing gamble on a supercard concept called WrestleMania.

'F*ck,' McMahon cursed under his breath. 'If only the steroid issue hadn't happened,' he thought.

All the money had already been spent on the marketing campaign for the Super Bowl and the joint-promotional campaign with MTV.

Even he admitted that they desperately needed hard cash now!

Unexpectedly, a savior reached out to him. The only drawback was that he was just as controversial as he himself.

"Mr. McMahon, it's a pleasure—Richard Maddox."

"Ah, Richard. Your name's come up a few times. You really enjoy walking on the wild side, huh?"

"Haha, well, not quite on your level, Mr. McMahon."

"Haha, I see. But you're certainly not afraid to take your chance."

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The two shared a laugh, their easygoing exchange reflecting their similar mindsets. Both had a knack for stirring things up, and now, with an unspoken understanding between them, it was clear their paths were about to align in the most unexpected ways.

Richard led McMahon to one of the VIP rooms. He had specifically reserved it for this moment this moment.

"Haha, I see, I see,"

"That's why I said it,"

"True, it's all about seizing the moment..."

For about thirty minutes, he and McMahon sat in the VIP room, their conversation flowing effortlessly, as if there was no tomorrow.

It wasn't about business, football, or wrestling. It was simply two people who loved sports, talking about everyday life—just two individuals, with only their different paths separating them.

THUD.

Suddenly, Richard placed his orange juice glass down and turned to McMahon, his expression serious. "Mr. McMahon, let me be clear with you. I am willing to invest in your World Wrestling Federation."

THUD.

Using the same gesture, Vince McMahon finally wiped the smile off his face and looked down at Richard, his expression now serious as well.

"Roughly how much can be invested?"

Not needing to say much, both men being of the same caliber, McMahon didn't hold back.

Richard paused for a moment. "Mr. McMahon, how much do you need? Tell me a figure." He was eager to settle this deal quickly.

"Even though WWF is low on funds right now, we can still secure a loan from the bank. So, even if I agree to let you buy a stake, I can't offer you a lot of shares."

Every negotiation comes with its tricks. McMahon said this because he wanted Richard to invest but didn't want to sell too many shares at once.

"No worries," Richard said confidently, playing the role of a newcomer. "Mr. McMahon, how much do you need, and how many shares can you offer me?"

"I can only offer you ten million for 5% of the shares," McMahon said.

Richard took a slow sip of his juice. That offer meant McMahon was valuing the WWF at a whopping $200 million—an ambitious figure.

"Mr. McMahon," Richard leaned forward slightly, "I understand where the numbers come from, but given the circumstances, 5% seems a bit low, doesn't it? With the steroid scandal, and the fact that your competitor, successfully poached Hulk Hogan from your roster—it says a lot, doesn't it?"

McMahon's jaw tightened at the mention of Hogan's departure, but he remained composed. "I promise you, I will clear all the accusations. The reputation of this company, of my legacy, is everything to me. I won't let anything tear it down."

Richard shook his head, not swayed. "But reputation isn't the only thing at stake. You're facing a major challenge. If I'm going to invest, I need to see more than just promises. I need to know your plan to turn this around."

McMahon sighed, leaning back in his chair before meeting Richard's gaze again. "I'll deliver. I'll make sure the WWF comes out on top. Just give me a little more time and a bit more support."

After that, McMahon described his concept called WrestleMania, which would be a pay-per-view extravaganza, viewable on closed-circuit television. Not only that, but his vision was to make the WWF, and the entire industry, mainstream—targeting a broader, general television audience by emphasizing the entertainment aspect of wrestling.

"Hmmm." Richard was deep in thought.

Truth be told, he had no real interest in owning WWF shares. Are you kidding me? With so many scandals left and right, being listed as a shareholder would only put a target on his back.

This steroid scandal was just a preview—a small crack in a dam ready to burst. There were even bigger steroid scandals bound to follow. Not to mention the harassment scandal, which was just like a ticking time bomb, ready to detonate.

"Mr. McMahon, I'll be honest with you. I came here with pure intentions—to collaborate, not to fight for control."

Richard tapped his fingers lightly on the table before continuing, "But let's face it, things are piling up. So here's my proposal—I won't take any shares, but I want a stake in the pay-per-view revenue. Not just a cut from one event—I want a long-term deal. A percentage from every blockbuster show. What do you think?"

McMahon exhaled sharply. It was bold. Maybe even outrageous.

"Impossible," he stated in just one word. Their cable TV programming was their prized revenue stream. And Richard wanted a piece of it? 'Absolutely impossible.'

"Mr. McMahon, don't be so quick to shut me down. I'm not asking for a cut of Monday Night Raw or your newly launched SmackDown. What I'm after is a stake in the yearly events—like the WrestleMania you're planning."

McMahon leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against the table as he carefully weighed the pros and cons.

A stake in the pay-per-view revenue? That was the WWF's golden goose. If WrestleMania became a massive success, Richard would be making money off his own company's biggest event. That alone was a long-term cost he wasn't sure he could stomach.

But then again... the cash. That was the reality. And more importantly, he wasn't asking for shares, which meant he would retain full control of the company. That was a massive plus.

Seeing McMahon deep in thought, Richard knew he had him on the hook. Swirling his juice in his glass, he leaned in. "Mr. McMahon, let's say I entertain this idea. I only want a yearly payout—no hassle. So you don't need to worry about short-term cash flow. Isn't that a win-win for both of us?"

McMahon's fingers stopped tapping. "And how big of a cut are we talking about?" he asked. "And we'll need clear terms. What exactly qualifies as a blockbuster event? I'm not letting you take a piece of every show we run."

"No worries," Richard said smoothly. "Like I mentioned, I'm only interested in the events. Or to make it crystal clear—any major event that isn't part of your regular weekly programming." He paused before raising five fingers. "I want fifty percent."

McMahon scoffed. "Fifty percent? Forget it."

Richard was disappointed—he only wanted to test the waters. "Fine, fine, wrong number. Forty percent?"

"Ten." McMahon countered harshly.

"Mr. McMahon, that's barely anything. Let's meet in the middle—thirty."

McMahon folded his arms. "And what exactly are you bringing to the table for that kind of cut?"

Richard didn't hesitate. "Ten million pounds. Upfront."

McMahon studied him. "You do realize how much that stake could be worth if WrestleMania turns out the way I plan, right?"

Richard chuckled. "Sure. But has it succeeded yet? It's still just a plan, isn't it?"

McMahon exhaled through his nose, his gaze locked on Richard. The damn kid knew how to negotiate. Rubbing his chin as he considered the offer, he finally said, "Fifteen."

Richard held his gaze for a moment before playing his trump card. "Mr. McMahon, don't decide too fast," he said smoothly. "How about twenty percent for ten years? And if I decide to extend, I'll have to double my initial investment. That ensures more cash flow for you in the future."

In other words, the deal breaks down to one million per year for ten years. After that, if Richard chooses to extend, it doubles to two million per year for the next decade.

Now that's the offer we're talking about!

Seeing Richard extend his hand, McMahon hesitated for a moment before finally clasping it firmly. "Welcome to the WWF."

Richard grinned, satisfied. McMahon had just accepted the deal.

As long as he wasn't involved in the day-to-day operations, everything was fine.