|
Part Two
I mean, it's primarily a source of pain. It's where I broke my neck. It's where I injured my knees. It's where I've spilled blood. But it's also where I've caused a lot of pain. A wrestling ring is a place of conflict. And inside that ring you're either receiving pain or you're giving it. Rarely does a competitor walk out of a wrestling ring without enduring some sort of injury. The mat is rough. The ropes are hard. Every fall sends pain shooting through your body. You walk into that ring knowing you're about to get dropped on your head, slammed on your back and thrown in the air. And yet you still do it. You still take that walk down the aisle and you still step through those ropes. You do so knowing the risk. You do so understanding the consequences. Every time you enter the ring for a match you mentally prepare yourself for the physical struggle you are about to go through. But the glory! Oh yes.... people talk all about the glory. They say that, yes, you are forced to go through incredibly grueling competition on a ridiculous schedule but you get to be famous. Famous. Yeah, right. You think wrestlers are famous? Maybe to their fans, but let's be honest here. How famous are we really? I was THE name in the HIW since its inception, and look where I am now. I'm a fucking nobody. I walk the streets and no one cares. I enter a room and there isn't a single person that looks up. I limp my way into the grocery store on a Thursday night and some smart ass teenager points and laughs at me. And it's not just me. Professional wrestling will always be placed on the lowest rung of entertainment. Our industry is viewed as somewhere in between hardcore pornography and demolition derbies. We're not celebrities. We're not looked up to. Sure, there may be some children that want to grow up to be wrestlers, but most of them would rather be rock stars or football players. We don't receive the same respect that other athletes do, and yet we're not considered performers or entertainers either. Even the biggest wrestlers will soon be forgotten. The wrestling industry, unlike any other, loves to eat it's own. Star athletes retire from their sports and they are revered for generations. The world will never forget Babe Ruth or Wayne Gretzky or Michael Jordan. People will never look down on Jack Nicholson or Tom Hanks or Robert DeNiro. In other industries it's not about what you have done lately. It's about your entire career. It's about respect. People look at old athletes and actors with admiration. They place them up on a pedestal. They give them the respect that they deserve. But wrestlers are thrown aside. They are left to die of drug overdoses or suffer humiliating public bankruptcies. The best a wrestler can hope for is to fade away quietly. Once you leave the ring the only chance you have of hitting the headlines again is if you die a tragic death. And then your life becomes a warning sign. It becomes an example to others. Your painful, horrible story gets lumped into a pile labeled "Wrestlers that Overdose." This is the most cruel industry on earth. When people look at me now they do not see the man that held The Elite Championship Three Times. They don't see a man who was undefeated for a damn YEAR! They see a broken down shell of a man that is almost out of gas. And they turn away in disgust. But that is not why I am returning to the ring. I am not here seeking glory. No, those days are gone. In my misguided youth I dreamed of becoming a star that transcended the industry. I dreamed of revolutionizing the sport. I hoped that one day I would be ranked among the greatest athletes in the world. Now I know that those dreams will never be fulfilled. They can't be. Not by a wrestler. We are the world's freak show. We are the bottom rung of society. We are laughed at for our struggles and the pain we endure is diminished as lowbrow and classless. No, I am not returning to the ring in search of glory that will never come. I am not here to prove anything. Not to the world and not to myself. In all honesty, I barely care if I succeed after No Exit. Championships, in the grand scheme of things, are completely and totally meaningless, all I care about now is beating Kat, knocking the delusional sex deprived bitch off her horse. My world has already been taken from me. My life will never be whole again I am stepping into the ring once more because I need it. Because there is something inside of me that needs to feel alive again. Yes, when you step through those curtains and you see a crowd focus their attention on you, it gives you a rush. But that is not the high I seek here. No, I am not doing this for the thrill of performing live. I am doing this in order to feel something. Kathrine may believe she's hardcore just because she can swing a good stick, or drop someone through a table, but she knows jack fucking shit about the word Hardcore. Believes Hardcore is a sport, that pain gives someone a rush, but until she looks into the face of the one she loves most dying, and she knows damn will there isn't shit she can do to help, then and only then will she understand the meaning of Hardcore. Her ideology of Hardcore is an illusion, one I plan on making a reality come tomorrow night. My mind has been racing. My world has been crumbling around me. I scream, I cry, I pray... and nothing helps. She still lies there, motionless. She may never wake again. But I'm awake. And I know exactly what it going on. Every moment of this is agony. I sit and I wait and my head feels as if it is going to explode. Nothing helps. I've tried therapy. I've tried counselling. I've read books, I've talked to friends and family, I've been to church... and none of it... none of it helps. While she lies there struggling to stay alive I am trapped as well. I am trapped inside my head. Not a moment goes by that I don't think of her struggle. I can't enjoy myself. Ever. I cannot laugh. I just can't. And so I aim to kill another female. Not because it's something that has to be done, Not at all. I am doing this because I have to. Doing this because the Barely Legal championship means a whole lot more to me then it does her. She see's that championship as nothing more then a few defense away from something bigger. What do I see? I see a company I built. I see a promotion that created so many HIW names, a promotion that help mold a lot of HIW's roster. I see that championship as a sign of hope. I see it as an opportunity that was given to many stars that may have never reached the top. I don't care about defending it, I just want to have it to relive a moment in time. To reincarnate Johnny Hall's dream. That championship is the only way to return some sense of normalcy to my life. I probably shouldn't be here, but it doesn't matter. It truly doesn't matter. It's the only thing I have left. Besides, I need to feel that pain. After living so long in a state of emotional agony I need some sort of physical release. I need to slam against a mat. I need to be thrown into the ropes. I need to fall onto the floor. I need it. Maybe, somehow... maybe the physical pain will distract me from the emotional anguish I face every moment. Maybe slamming my head into the ground will cause me to forget about my injured wife, lying in a hospital bed alone. If even for a split second I can care more about countering a move or getting my hands up to block a punch, I can have some semblance of a life again. Maybe feeling my spine crash into the mat will allow me to breathe. Because this is not a life. Just like my poor wife Jessica, I am not really alive. Sure, she is kept alive. She has ventilators that assist her breathing and tubes that give her nutrients, but she is not truly alive. Her brain still functions. Her heart still beats. But otherwise she is gone. I am the same. I may look alive. I may walk and talk and eat and breath, but I am dead. Inside my mind is filled with poison. My heart is ripped in two. My soul is forever scarred. Maybe the pain... maybe the feeling of desperation and aggression that can only be felt inside a Death Match will bring me back to life. The Barely Legal Wrestling Federation Was once my life line That Barely Legal Championship is my lifeline... CONTINUE |