I stepped on to an elevator at the Riveara in 1992 while playing in the APA tournament. The door opened and there stood the Miz. He was very kind and started asking me how I was doing in the tournament. He then told me he was on his way to a pharmacy to get something for the pain he was having in his legs. They played a nine ball tourney at the same hotel at the time. He said all the walking around the tables was killing his legs. He was a large man. As I started to get off the elevator he wished me good luck. I didnt have any luck in the tournament, but was lucky enough to have met the Miz and left the elevator thinking to myself what a nice guy. It seems the good ones go too young sometimes. RIP MIZ