Picture from Raw Magazine January 2001
Farm Club: The Prodigies of Ohio Valley Wrestling Wait Their Turn
The back roads of Jeffersonville, Indiana, are a long way from the Staples Center in Los Angeles and New York's Madison Square Garden. The Davis Arena -- christened after "Nightmare" Danny Davis, head trainer
for the Ohio Valley Wrestling (OVW) promotion -- is an unimposing structure with a sign that's easy to miss. It's situated in a neighborhood of auto repair shops, tattoo parlors, and abandoned and collapsing buildings, but to a true devotee of the mat game, a journey through its doors is akin to uncovering
a treasure chest.
Crowd size doesn't matter; these fans become totally involved in the matches, reacting to men years away from World Wrestling Federation pay-per-views as if they were Kurt Angle and Chris Benoit.
The performers tend to wrestle the way titans did a generation ago, forsaking flashier maneuvers for dependable dropkicks, fisherman suplexes and bulldog headlocks. Before they put on their tights, the wrestlers put up the ring,
marking time as they dream of life in the majors.
Because of his old-school philosophy, [Jim] Cornette is wary about letting a reporter meet with perhaps the most absorbing sight in OVW, 6-foot 7-inch, 335-pound Leviathan, a brawny, bald-headed behemoth said to have risen from the Ohio River when his manager, Synn, invoked an ancient incatation. Week after week, Leviathan seems indifferent to chair shots, board shots and concrete blocks to his head.
On a recent card, he quickly rose from the canvas after being chokeslammed by Big Show, spearing the former World Wrestling Federation champion.
"I'm telling you the turth," Cornette asserts. "He really believes he is the Guardian of the Gates of Hell. You hear about people in the business starting to believe their own publicity. But Leviathan started believing before he had any publicity."