Hero

“Long live Rick Majors!” they cried in unison.

The crowd carried a collectively glum facial expression as they stared on at disbelief at the body of their fallen idol. Tens of thousands of people had turned out in the streets to witness the homecoming of Majors’ body; they waved flame-lit torches high into night sky, illuminating the place and carrying a great sense of pride about themselves.

An army of sturdy foot soldiers marched in front of them holding the open coffin of Rick Majors aloft. Women and children held back the tears as they shook their heads in disbelief whilst even some of the grown men found it hard to hold back their true emotions. It was a sad day for mankind.

Rick Majors had always been that one beacon of light that the general public could depend upon. He was the role model that young mothers always told their children to aspire to be like and had earned great respect from just about every individual he had encountered in life.

A lot of wrestling fans had gone as far to dub him as ‘the mother Teresa of the squared circle’ but that moniker failed to tell the full story of the final few months of his life...

A once proud family man, Majors found himself in exile in his own home and dissatisfied with life. He became alienated from the rest of the world and disillusioned with both society and, more importantly, the wrestling world. Sceptics had drawn their own conclusions regarding the real motive behind Rick’s loss of mental health: many pointed to his inability to truly establish himself as one of the best wrestlers of his generation as a possible cause for his downfall.

Whispers soon spread around the land.

“Do you think that’s why he’s dead, Mom?” inquired a small school boy, tugging on the coat tail of his mother with a bleak look etched across his face.

“We’ll never know now, son,” she replied, hanging her head in shame. Her words failed to veil her true thoughts.

There would have never been any doubt of his status if he’d only managed to beat Chris Champion. This didn’t need to have happened.

The funeral procession continued as a large bongo drum was brought out and to accompany the marching of the body. The drum banged monotonously, droning on and forcing most ears in the crowd to wince in agony. More tears followed as the women and children simply couldn’t contain their emotions; tiny puddles of water trickled down innocent faces and soon multiplied into gushing waterfalls.

The Heavens responded in kind by showering the people below. No one noticed though; the day had numbed them from head to toe.

“He was my hero,” bleated the young boy once more, burying his head into his mother’s skirt.

“He was everyone’s hero,” she replied, nursing the child into her bosom and clinging to him tightly. She sighed heavily. “If only things had gone differently at Slamfest...”

NLCW’s flag ship pay-per-view extravaganza had offered Rick Majors one final shot at vindication, but, as always, he had stuttered on the biggest stage of all. As a result, his life lost all drive, focus and ambition: ultimately, it drove him to suicide.

The entire world had witnessed the demise of three very different things at Slamfest...