The Anoaʻi family is wrestling’s royal bloodline. High Chief Peter Maivia, Afa and Sika the Wild Samoans, Yokozuna, Rikishi, Roman Reigns, The Usos, The Rock—names carved into the industry, champions of eras. And then there’s Lloyd.
Lloyd Anoaʻi, son of Afa, brother of Samu, cousin of Rikishi, Yokozuna, Roman, and Dwayne Johnson, was born in Allentown, Pennsylvania, in 1970. He was raised in the family business, trained in the family ring, blooded in the family tradition. He had the size—6’2”, 360 pounds—the toughness, the pedigree. What he never had was the spotlight.
Lloyd Anoaʻi became wrestling’s eternal extra: always there, rarely seen.
Debut of a Nomad
Trained by his father Afa and his uncle Sika, Lloyd debuted in 1987. He was big, powerful, mobile enough to keep up, and destined, it seemed, to carry the Anoaʻi torch. But while others in the family landed main-event slots, Lloyd wandered.
He worked the World Wrestling Federation in the ’90s under disposable names: Tahitian Savage, Fred Williams, Lloyd Lanui. None stuck. None mattered. The office didn’t know what to do with him, so they did nothing. He was the body they rolled out when they needed a Samoan.
In Puerto Rico’s World Wrestling Council, he fared better. As the Tahitian Warrior, he teamed with Mohammed Hussein to win the WWC Tag Titles three times in 1994. He held them again in 2002 with Tahitian Prince. The Puerto Rican fans understood Lloyd: he was a big man in the Samoan tradition, believable as a brawler, credible as a champion. But Puerto Rico wasn’t WrestleMania. It wasn’t the promised land.
The Samoan Gangster Party
In ECW, Lloyd tried another mask of identity: L.A. Smooth, one half of The Samoan Gangster Party with his cousin Samu. It was 1996, and ECW was built on chaos. Chairs, blood, fire, swearing. The Gangster Party seemed like a good fit—two hulking Samoans rebranded with street edge.
But ECW was Paul Heyman’s theater, and Lloyd was never meant to be the star. The Gangster Party floated around, stomped a few skulls, and disappeared like smoke.
A Headshrinker by Default
In the WWF, Rikishi turned into a dancing star. In the indies, Lloyd became his cousin’s shadow. With Samu, he re-formed The Headshrinkers on smaller circuits, working as Headshrinker Alofa or Headshrinker Ruopa. They were nostalgia acts, rehashes of the Wild Samoans’ glory days, playing to crowds in bingo halls and high school gyms.
While the family empire stretched across the WWF main events, Lloyd was hustling on the independents, carrying the banner, but never carrying the torch.
Wrestling’s Everyman
Lloyd wrestled everywhere. WXW, ISPW, EWF, EWA, WWP, NHPW. He won belts across continents: Puerto Rico, Europe, South Africa, Qatar, Australia. Tag belts with Samu. Hybrid belts in Australia. Souq Waqif belts in Qatar. He became a walking passport stamp.
To promoters, Lloyd was dependable. He looked the part, worked the part, always delivered. He was a professional nomad, a Samoan mercenary. But to fans, he was always “one of the cousins.” The name Anoaʻi carried weight, but for Lloyd, it carried a shadow.
The Trainer and the Cameos
By the 2000s, Lloyd shifted gears. At his father’s Wild Samoan Training Center, he became a trainer. Wrestlers like Batista, Rusev, and countless others passed through those doors. Lloyd was the guy teaching them how to bump, how to protect themselves, how to survive. He became the man behind the curtain of the family dynasty, shaping wrestlers even if fans never knew his name.
He even made cameos outside wrestling. He appeared in Darren Aronofsky’s The Wrestler. He popped up in commercials tied to Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson’s Hobbs & Shaw. He was still playing a part in the family’s saga, even on film.
The Man of Many Names
Lloyd Anoaʻi has wrestled under more names than some promotions have had television deals. Alofa, Ruopa, Tahitian Savage, Tahitian Warrior, Tahitian Savage, L.A. Smooth, Headshrinker Alofa, Lloyd Lanui.
Each name was a chance. Each name was another mask. None stuck. He was always playing someone, never himself. In a family where charisma oozed like lava, Lloyd was cast as the worker bee. The man who kept grinding, even as the world passed him by.
Championships in the Shadows
His championship résumé is sprawling:
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9x WWC World Tag Champion in Puerto Rico.
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4x WXW Tag Champion in his father’s promotion.
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QPW Souq Waqif Champion in Qatar.
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EWA Intercontinental Champion in Europe.
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NHPW Hybrid Champion in Australia.
Impressive on paper. But in the U.S., where legacy is measured in WrestleManias, those belts might as well have been paperweights. Lloyd was decorated, but never enshrined.
The Forgotten Anoaʻi
It’s not fair, but it’s true: wrestling is about moments, not mileage. Lloyd had mileage—decades of it, across continents. But he never had moments. He never won the WWF Tag Titles on pay-per-view. Never danced with Rikishi in a thong. Never speared Brock Lesnar like Roman. Never raised an eyebrow like The Rock.
Instead, he played his role quietly, stubbornly. He was the family’s working-class hero, the one who kept the bloodline alive in the smaller rings while his cousins conquered the world.
Final Word
Lloyd Anoaʻi will never be remembered as “the” Anoaʻi. He’ll never headline WrestleMania, never carry the Universal Title, never be chanted at by 80,000 fans. But he is part of the foundation—the journeyman, the trainer, the cousin who made sure the Anoaʻi name was everywhere, even if it wasn’t on top.
Wrestling needs stars, but it also needs survivors. Lloyd Anoaʻi is a survivor. Thirty-plus years in the game, countless belts, countless names, countless miles. A man who never escaped the shadow of his family, but never stopped carrying their legacy forward in his own quiet way.
He is the unsung Anoaʻi—the perpetual extra in a family saga written in gold. And maybe that’s his role: not the head of the table, but the man who set it up, wiped it down, and kept it ready for the stars to feast.