"Finding solitude in a far corner of the frigid backstage area," recalls the semi-retired hardcore wrestler, right here in Slate.com, "I saw a cloud of my own breath as I pressed the play button. 'Snow can wait, I forgot my mittens. ...'"
That's from "Winter," a song by Tori Amos, who, for the uninitiated, is a musician generally beloved by the sort of young people who keep too many candles in their dorm rooms, and also, apparently, by Mick Foley. This is Mick Foley:
This is Tori Amos:
So now imagine the former in a dressing room in Japan in the mid-1990s, listening to the latter's music in preparation for a barbed-wire cage match, trying to locate that elusive mental state that permits a man to crucify himself on jagged coils of metal.
"When you gonna make up your mind?" Tori Amos asked me inside that frigid dressing room. "When you gonna love you as much as I do?"
And then I realize I'm going to be all right. Head first, neck first, balls first—it really doesn't matter. By the fourth listen, I know I'm going to tear that place apart.
The whole story's worth a read (it's adapted from what I believe is his third memoir, which means he's now two up on Henry Adams). Foley's always been a thoughtful dude, even if it means he occasionally gets forced into token roles as pro wrestling's Official Sensitive Guy. This latest revelation — that he has your ex-girlfriend's taste in music — all but ensures he'll go down as the Alan Alda of the steel-cage set.