Kevin Von Erich was lying in a hammock at his then-home in Hawaii when his wife, Pam, came outside with news that would mark the next chapter of his life. Hollywood was making a movie about his family.
“They didn’t need my permission,” he says, his voice carrying the calm weight of someone who’s lived enough to know what matters and what doesn’t. “I’d already turned down a half-dozen offers. Every one of them made us look like angry guys getting beat up. That wasn’t the truth. We had a beautiful story—if they’d only looked deeper.”
The Von Erich name is synonymous with wrestling royalty in Texas, especially after the 2023 film biopic about the family, The Iron Claw. While that story focused on the loss the family has faced, these days, Kevin and his sons, Ross and Marshall, are focused on legacy, healing, and finding community—and they’ve found that in Boerne, where the slower pace of life allows them to focus on what matters most.
“We always loved the Hill Country,” Kevin says. “I love water. Rivers, lakes—anything. Hawaii had that. But my sons’ careers were taking off. They were flying all over the world. That round-trip ticket [from Hawaii] was a burden on promoters in Japan and Europe.”
And then there were his granddaughters. “They’re at the age where they’re gonna start looking for men,” Kevin says with a wink. “I wanted them to find Texas men. Gentlemen… that’s what I want around my family.”
So a few years ago, the Von Erichs packed up and headed for the heart of Texas. Boerne, in particular, stood out. “There’s something about this town,” says Marshall. “We’d come through a few times while traveling, and it felt different. People like seeing each other here.” Ross agrees: "I haven’t met anyone I didn’t like, and I get to grow blackberries at home. I love that.”
It’s a far cry from the locker rooms of Tokyo, where Marshall and Ross cut their teeth in the wrestling world. “We were just kids,” Marshall says. “Getting beat up nightly, traveling constantly, sitting on our bags on buses. We didn’t even know how big Japan was for pro wrestling until we got there.”
On that path, the brothers spent years away from home, often wrestling in small towns with no English signage, communicating primarily through pain, grit, and mutual respect. They recall one particularly brutal trip where they were ready to quit. “We were on the roof of a building after a match, just exhausted,” Marshall says. “And we said this prayer—our first real one on our own. If we weren’t meant to do this, just show us.”
They went back down, wrestled another match, and got thoroughly beaten. But when they returned to that rooftop, they noticed something on the wall—an old etching that read “Kevin, David, 1982.” Their father and uncle had stood in that same spot decades earlier. “It was the moment we knew,” Marshall says. “God answered us. This is what we’re supposed to do.”
Wrestling, however, is only part of their story. The brothers are deeply involved in their community. Along with wrestling, the family has an event venue on their property. They’ve teamed up with local law enforcement for community events, and they hope to collaborate more with local businesses (You might catch them hanging out at local Mexican restaurant Las Guitarras). “It’s funny,” Marshall says. “We’d just been talking about connecting with a local Texas business, and things just seem to align here.”
Career milestones accompanied their move to Boerne. When their contracts with Major League Wrestling were fulfilled, the brothers signed with All Elite Wrestling (AEW), an organization whose influence on the wrestling world is growing. That leap of faith was confirmed yet again. “All of a sudden, the movie comes out, AEW calls, and we’re sleeping in our own beds after matches for the first time ever,” Ross says. “That’s a big deal when you’ve been flying out of Hawaii every two weeks for years.”
For Kevin, seeing his sons find their path has been significant, especially after a life filled with so much loss. “I didn’t want them to wrestle,” he admits. “I’ve had so many injuries—knees, back, shoulders. But they saw me as this sore, bruised guy, and they thought that’s what a man was.”
Now, he sees them not only wrestling but shaping a new Von Erich legacy rooted in love, faith, and humility. “They operate from this mindset of, ‘We’re Von Erichs the second we step on a plane,’” Kevin says. “It’s about loving people first. That’s what I’ve always tried to teach them.”
Ross and Marshall have embraced that teaching. “There’s a saying in wrestling: ‘Put people over,’” Ross explains. “For us, that means encouraging everyone we meet. Make them feel seen. Make them feel loved.”
Their faith plays a quiet, steady role in their lives. “We’re not churchy,” Marshall says. “We’re more like gypsies—always on the road. But we’ve seen God work in ways that are undeniable. We don’t need a denomination for that.”
Today, Kevin explores nature with his grandkids, catching—but never hurting—critters and soaking in the stillness of early Texas mornings. He says his best days are spent with “muddy hands and a smiling grandson.” Sometimes, it’s frogs and fireflies. Other times, it’s monster trucks and laughter echoing into dusk. “I watch the sunrise every day,” he says. “I listen to the birds. I don’t need much more than that.”
He pauses, smiling at the thought of it all. The wrestling. The heartbreak. The healing. The roots now growing into the Hill Country soil. “There used to be a time when I’d pray and ask God for this or that,” he says. “Now, I just ask him for a joyful heart. And every day, I wake up smiling.”
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“There used to be a time when I’d pray and ask God for this or that. Now, I just ask him for a joyful heart. And every day, I wake up smiling.” —Kevin Von Erich
“There’s a saying in wrestling: ‘Put people over.’ For us, that means encouraging everyone we meet. Make them feel seen. Make them feel loved.” —Ross Von Erich