It is understandable that younger generations get tired of hearing from us Baby Boomers that sports were more enjoyable before the 1980s, before being watered down by the expansion of leagues, of playoff and tournament fields, of bowl games, boxing belts and gold medals, by 11 a.m. kickoffs on Saturdays and 5 p.m. tipoffs on Sundays.

Yet, there is one claim that we old-timers make that can't be disputed: Professional wrestling — or rasslin', as we called it on the sports desk — was a wonderful, fun-filled activity that was ruined when Vince McMahon and the WWF (since 2002 known as the WWE) became largely a monopoly.

It went from hokey interviews and simple plot twists played out by beefy men throughout regional territories, to over-the-top TV productions featuring steroids-fueled body builders entering arenas and stadiums through thick, machine-generated smoke and bad music.

There is an organization called the Cauliflower Alley Club that celebrates old-school wrestling with an annual reunion in Las Vegas. It starts Monday and runs through Wednesday at the Gold Coast Hotel and Casino.

The club has been around for 50 years, although I never had heard of it until a conversation with Larry (the Axe) Hennig a couple of months ago. Amid the laughs and the stories, the Axe mentioned with some emotion in his voice that he would be receiving the "Iron Mike" Award.

Turns out, the award honors Mike Mazurki, an Austrian immigrant who became "Iron Mike" in the wrestling ring and a bit actor in over 100 films. He was 6-foot-5 with a menacing mug and mostly played the part of a dimwitted bad guy.

Mazurki's first film role was in 1941. He came to a bad end on numerous occasions in the 1950s, appearing in "Have Gun, Will Travel" and other westerns that populated network television in the '50s and into the '60s.

He started wrestling in the 1930s and continued into his acting career. Mazurki and his friend Art Abrams decided in 1956 to hold a get-together for their wrestling cronies.

The name chosen — the Cauliflower Alley Club — was an indication of the attitude brought to the reunion.

"Every old wrestler who can make it is there," Hennig said. "You could hang around for one night and write a book."

There is a wrestling card on Monday and an event called the Bologna Blowout on Tuesday. That's when the fellows (and some lady wrestlers, too) eat with their hands and tell stories.

On Wednesday, there is the formal banquet, and that's when Hennig, soon to be 80, gets the Iron Mike Award — the main award among a dozen or so that are presented.

The Iron Mike commemorates an individual who was successful in both wrestling and another profession. Larry's qualification is the real estate business that he still runs with Irene, his wife of 60 years.

The Iron Mike's list of winners includes a former governor of Minnesota who shall go nameless, since he now prefers to "stay off the grid."

Hennig will have to put a governor on his storytelling at the Bologna Blowout and save his best stuff for Wednesday night's acceptance speech.

Previously, the Axe had me howling with tales about the relationship between Verne Gagne, both the frequent champion and the boss of the American Wrestling Association, and his main operative, Wally Karbo.

"Wally always played the stooge in TV interviews, with that accent and his threats of fines and suspensions, but he was a sharp old fox," Hennig said. "Wally was the guy who wrote the plot lines for us. He would start with how the feud was ultimately going to turn out, and then work backwards to how it would start.

"Verne was tight with a buck, we all knew that, and Wally was always trying to get what he thought was his fair share. Verne would confront him about money, and Wally would claim innocence.

"The wrestling office was in the old Dyckman Hotel. It was being demolished for a new development and, the story goes, when it was imploded, a missing check, canceled after being cashed by Wally, came floating down to the street.

"The wrestlers, we loved that. We said, 'The only way they could catch Wally taking his cut was to blow up the building.' "

Patrick Reusse can be heard 3-6 p.m. weekdays on AM-1500. • preusse@startribune.com