Professional wrestling.

To some, it’s merely a soap opera with a few extra punches thrown in for added effect. A sport often scrutinized for its use of over-the-top theatrics and gimmicky storylines, the perception of pro-wrestling for the uninformed viewer is "nobody really gets hurt. They’re all faking it. These guys are all friends behind the scenes and they probably get together once a week in their mansions and laugh about how they’ve suckered gullible fans out of their hard-earned money."

In fact, some have taken offense to the way the word "sports" is thrown around in the coined phrase, "sports entertainment." How can something be called a sport when the endings of each match are predetermined by some bigwig deciding on the wrestler whose merchandise flies off the shelves quicker? And if the fun of the sport is taken out by knowing beforehand how each and every match is going to end, that’s not very entertaining, either.

Being considered an inferior product in relation to more mainstream sports like basketball, football, and baseball, the professional wrestling industry is often seem by pundits as a giant circus preying on the emotions of the feeble-minded. Wrestlers aren’t given the same star treatment in comparison to the Lebron Jameses and the Kobe Bryants of this world. Often kicked to the side by most sports enthusiasts, it appears in this day and age, wrestling has metamorphosed into a dirty word.

But lying underneath the face of modern-day gladiators jostling for superstardom, an entire world not unlike our own exists. Behind the curtain, the wrestlers are very much human and endure the same trials and tribulations every Tom, Dick, and Harry has to experience. They have to make ends meet and put dinner on the table for the wife and kids. They have to make each choice in their career very carefully in order to rise to the next plateau. They have standards and practices in their line of work just like you and I; red-blooded citizens living the American dream of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness to the fullest and hoping somehow, someway they can pull it all together and not crumble under the weight of immense pressure placed upon them.

Tonight, we take a look at one such citizen; a man trapped in a heated battle with both himself and his ability to keep personal and professional life in perfect synch. Every last decision he makes career-wise affects those around him for better or for worse. He travels the skies and roads for more than two-thirds of the year having to live with each of those choices and oftentimes, puts the work ahead of his loved ones.

As we narrate a day in the life of Shawn Christopher, we’ll see but a sample of the life of a man trying to live out the childhood dream that carried him through his youth while struggling to maintain the very foundation in which a tumultuous marriage rests. And then - maybe then people will get a better grasp of the private Hell one must live through in order to attain success.

________________--______________

Welcome to National Geographic Presents: A Day In The Life of the Wrestler and the Things he Does to Forget his Shitty Problems.

6:42 am

The subject for our documentary can be seen tossing and turning with the blankets tangled up in his legs like a spider’s web. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to:

SHAWN CHRISTOPHER
(Envious Prickus with Black Heartus)

Staying at a random motel located at the scene of his next performance, (the weekly XWF broadcast, Insanity) the night has not been kind to him. Being fueled by a mere three hours of rest, Shawn Christopher leaps from his attempt at slumber to grunt at nothing in particular. Whether it be personal demons in his head or merely the anticipation of that 7:00 buzzer on his alarm clock going berserk, he finds no solace in the motel bed.

He turns to the other person currently nestled in the other bed and taps her from across the room with the aid of a shoe. Yes, it appears our subject is not awake enough yet to make it to a vertical base, but that doesn’t deter him from waking his mother.

MARIA DANIELSON
(Mommyus Dearest)

The union between mother and son formed a few months ago and created a mutually beneficial relationship. As one of wrestling’s most despised personalities, Shawn Christopher finds traveling the winding roads incredibly difficult by his lonesome. His mother now represents him as his agent and in return, Maria is free from the commonplace widower lifestyle and gets to see the sights of the world; one of wrestling’s greater perks.

"Mom, I’m going downstairs to get some food. Want anything?"

"Mmmhmm." Her face buried in the pillow makes communication between mother and son annoying to the latter. Translation: "Donuts."

"Kay."

With a half-hearted grunt and a scratch of his posterior, Shawn finally stands up and prepares to face the day ahead.

7:30 AM

After his morning ritual consisting of a nice hot shower, throwing on the first pair of clothing available to him and a few stretches to get his muscles warmed up, he hits the streets in search of sustenance. He keeps a constant vigil on his cell phone, hoping to get some answers from his wife, Eme, on the possible new man in her life. But it is to no avail. The lack of messages or missed calls only brings him down that much further.

Sighing, he keeps with him a picture sent to him through XWF rival and its current challenger, Bigg Rigg. It depicts his wife and two-year-old daughter at a playground in an undisclosed location sitting on a bench talking and having a good time with a young blonde-haired gentleman who is obviously not her husband.

A million questions race through his mind, but for now those must be put on the backburner. His growling stomach overtakes his need for answers and soon, he’s off to the closest convenience store in search of snacks.

8:14 AM

44 minutes, $7.40 and one irate comment about how fat the clerk was later, Shawn and Maria Danielson now find themselves seated at the table back in their hotel room.

Now armed with nourishment, his mind goes back to the set of photographs and his head is filled with many inquiries as to what this means for him and his relationship. The actions that Shawn currently undergoes surprise Maria. Shawn portrays a very jackass, unlikely hero known to millions on house shows, television and major Pay-Per-View broadcasts. With a "look out for #1" mentality, the fact that he even seems to be showing concern for the marriage is both a shocker and an infuriation.

"Shawn, what’s the matter with you? You act surprised that she would do something like this? You haven’t exactly been Husband or Father of the Year to either one!"

His eyes don’t leave the photograph, but he still communicates with Maria. It seems to serve him as a true wake-up call that their holy union may be in grave danger at long last.

"Bullshit, I haven’t. I gave them both everything they’ve wanted! A place to live, food each and every night, lavished them with gifts and THIS is how she repays me?"

"You didn’t give them YOU. You’ve been attached to the road. Frighteningly so. Eme warned you that she was unhappy…"

"That’s her problem to get over. Not mine. I’m supposed to just walk away from the business because she feels a little uneasy? That’s crap because I could never stand the fact she was so vested in a career as a leech of a lawyer, yet I approved of her dream. But when I wrestle, she gets on my case. She knew who I was and what I was doing going into the relationship and she bottled it up without telling me?"

"It was different when it was just you two. Then you had a beautiful daughter. Then the dynamic changed entirely and things had to change. Taliana did, but you didn’t."

He finally averts his gaze and turns to Maria. "So that gives her an excuse to step out on me like this? We’re both still married by law, you know. She called me every so often to let me talk to our daughter and to try and work out our problems, but then she does THIS?" He jabs a finger into the picture. "That’s bulls…"

"It doesn’t absolve her, but you may have driven her to this."

"Now THAT’S a load of…"

He’s cut off by his cell phone vibrating and rattling across the table like a wind-up toy. Frantically, he reaches for the phone and checks to see if it’s Taliana looking to explain herself…

"STEVE."

"Joy. Hold on, Mom, it’s work."

Flabbergasted that he would stop their heated conversation for work, Maria merely sits back, arms folded, not approving of her son’s actions. While she stews, you’ll get to see a business-related aspect of Shawn Christopher’s world. Meet:

STEVE SAYORS
(Annoyus Interruptus)

As the Head of Talent Relations for the XWF wrestling organization, it is his job to oversee the talent and help coordinate all their appearances, meetings, matches, et al. With a crack team at his stead, Steve Sayors seldomly misses a beat. From her behavior, one can observe that he may not necessarily like the talent under his employ, but he is a very successful business-driven man and puts them first over all else.

"Greetings, sunshine. Hope I didn’t interrupt anything."

"Nothing important, I guess. What do you want?"

"Well, as it turns out, we had to do some switching around as far as the schedule goes due to scheduling conflicts with a couple of the talent. We…"

"So a couple curtain-jerkers couldn’t make it. What’s the big deal?"

"Well, the big deal, is because of the card changes, we need everybody here at the arena ASAP. We’ve got to get the pre-match interviews taken care of today, so if you could get down here on immediately, I'd appreciate it."

"Fine. Be there in an hour."

What luck! As fate would have it, we shall get to see first-hand some of the backstage production aspects that make up each and every XWF broadcast that goes to air weekly. Of course, now that Shawn is evidently placing work ahead of his own personal affairs, Maria is not pleased in the slightest as you are about to hear.

"Uh…" she sputters. "Do you know what that was?"

"A Guinness world record. Steve Sayors is the first bitch to ever dial a phone."

He deflects. He evades. He does whatever it takes to try and not focus on the issues at hand with his wife. It’s downright disheartening to see from Maria, whose only wish is for her son to deal with his problems and stop burying them under copious amounts of denial. Shawn tries to leave the table, but his mother isn’t having it on this day.

"Listen, and listen good. It was YOU who went out on the road, it was YOU that treated your wife like dirt and it was YOU that put your career ahead of her. You may love her, but you certainly didn’t show it…"

"I showed it, goddamn it. I’m sitting through another mommy dearest speech, aren’t I?"

"Not soon enough. She left home, you still ignored her like she was running with the rest of the huskies, but global warming is melting the icecaps, suddenly you care?"

For many moments, nary a word is said between mother and son. Watch how he turns his head and lets every last word get absorbed into his brain like a sponge. It’s clear that things are on his mind and that he wants to resolve them somehow, but as Maria comes to find out, Shawn’s first love comes calling again.

"Anything else?"

No more words.

"Great. Be back in a few hours."

He grabs his coat and heads out to catch the first taxi to the Summerside Wellness Centre. Maria is left to stew in the motel all alone and wonder just how her oldest could live such a life of refutation.

12:38 PM

Having arrived to the arena an hour earlier, Shawn prepares himself for the grueling task yet to come. He gets into his ring gear, has make-up done, and now finds himself with a XWF figurehead to go over the kind of interview they’d like him to portray for an upcoming wrestling match on the next card.

HAWAIIAN HARDHEAD
(Bossus Takes-No-Shittus)

Formerly one of the worst curtain jerkers in wrestling, he was made the owner of the XWF by a desperate Jonathyn Brown. Now a high-ranking member and a valuable asset to the company itself, it is Mr. Delgado’s job to not just oversee the talent, but the production and final input of each and every broadcast. Having grown a backbone and transforming into a very business-savvy individual these days, nothing gets through the highly respected member of XWF’s halls.

From the body language observed between the two during the final moments before a pre-match interview is scheduled to take place, there is no love lost between wrestler and general manager.

"Blah, blah, woof, woof. I get it, HHH. Put the fear of God into that fat fuck, then brag about beating his ass. Got it."

HHH sighs and folds his arms, not impressed one iota with his employee’s brazenness.

"It’s a wonder millions of people love you."

"It’s a wonder you haven’t come out of the closet already. Seriously, you’re so far deep, you could probably find Christmas presents."

"Just do your job, you troglodyte."

"Whatev, H. I’ll say my piece, then call you big words. You’re being preternaturally facetious today. Hey, I could be Lee Stone right now!"

We don’t catch HHH’s last words as he heads around the corner. Something about "wishing you’d disappear just like he did." But what you are about to see is a rarity in professional wrestling. Tonight, you are about to witness a promo being filmed mere days before going on the air. Take a gander at the raw emotion that oozes from each of Shawn’s pores as he prepares to "cut a promo" as the term goes, on opponent Bigg Rigg.

_____--____

"Redemption, huh? So that’s what’s fueling you, eh, John? Gotta say, that’s a pretty good motivator."

The condescending tone is the prelude to a flickering image, now focused intently on the ugly visage of Shawn Christopher. Dressed for the occasion (the occasion being a wrestling match, of course), he refuses to take his eyes off the camera, practically boring holes in it while a cold smirk is etched across his face.

"See, you and I? We’re from similar walks of life. We’re both young men struggling to survive in a world that’s overpopulated with younger, better-looking, hungrier, more athletic individuals starving for attention. We both treat every battle like it’s our last and give it our all, regardless of the opposition in front of us. And golly gee, I can’t forget that we both cling onto our dreams of salvation like they’re the last chopper out of Iraq."

The smirk? Gone.

"But that’s where the similarities end, John. See, when I saw you make your unceremonious return to XWF’s hallowed halls, I had to admit I was taken aback. I thought that Dan Malcolm did away with you and sent you back months ago to whatever shithole is unlucky enough to have you as one of its residents. But one quiet little evening, I was in total shock. For Bigg Rigg made his first appearance in some time, laying down a challenge. Then you make a charge at the World champion, nearly winning the title. Only to end up joining up with Famine and latching onto whatever space was left on his d**k...

...What a pussy!"

His evil cackle echoes through the halls before he continues with his diatribe.

"What kind of a person joins up with the same bitch that kicks his ass? Shit like that is reserved for little faggots that have that fucking cricket on their shoulder telling you right from wrong. You came back and thought that the XWF was on the level that it was in the old days when dinosaurs like yourself reigned supreme. But you found yourself overmatched and overwhelmed... you merely weren’t ready for it, just like you not being ready for what’s about to come your way on Insanity, Gambino."

Looking cocksure of himself, his gaze lies elsewhere for a moment like his head is lost in the clouds. Once said moment passes, it’s back to the camera one more time.

"Gambino, you sure as FUCK chose the wrong person to come after in this grandiose quest to relive your glory days. I would be more than happy to assist you with such an act, but time travel isn’t a possible action yet so I can’t shove a fucking coat hanger up your mother’s womb way back in ’63. However, what I CAN do for you, good sir, is make you wish you never came back.

You stepped into the Helldome with this grand scheme in mind to continue your legacy at my expense. However, much to your shock and my expectance, I handed you and three others a defeat at Autumn in Hell. Not to mention, the week after, I left you laying with another defeat at my hands. I’m afraid that now you’re not just up shit creek without a paddle… the boat has a fucking leak in it. For what you’re stepping into the ring with on Wednesday, John, is something a LOT worse than a bald motherfucker with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove.

You’ve got a BIG motherfucker with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove.

John Gambino, you're not in my league. Hell, you aren't even within driving distance of the bus route that would take you close to being in the vicinity of my league. You talk about how you're a legend, but a legend of what? Are you the legend of mediocrity? That’s the only thing people would use you for, to see how they stack up against the Master of “Meh.” I don’t view anyone as my peer, especially you. I’m a step above the rest. All of the members of the XWF’s roster go to sleep at the end of another unsatisfying night, and do you know what they do? They pray. They pray to God that for one day, just one day, they could be the Cult Icon. They want to experience the fame, the fortune, and the feeling of knowing you are the absolute best the world has even seen. Then they wake up in the morning, and do you know what they do then? They wonder just where in the hell they got the imprint of a Gucci slipper on their forehead from. This roster is nothing more than a welcome mat to me. I walk all over them, and they love me for it. It’s that plain and simple.

It's just something you don't understand John. How many times do I have to beat you for you to understand this? How many times do you have to spout that same garbage about being a legend and taking out your frustrations, before you realize that all that shit doesn't matter. You've come in with the same mindset everytime, and everytime I've sent you away as a loser. You even tried donning that mask to scare me, and all it did elicit a chuckle. Face it... you don't intimidate me. You don't scare me. And you sure as he;; don't threaten my title reign.

Right now, I’m in the middle of the biggest run of my nine-year career, John. My quest for redemption is getting me somewhere and you’re going to serve as MY example of what happens when you think that Shawn Christopher becomes a stepping stone of any kind. See, at Insanity, I’m not looking for any kind of victory in particular. I’m looking to show the rest of the federation what’s awaiting them when they step to me. I will kick every square inch of your gargantuan skull into oblivion, I will make you bleed from every last orifice, and if I’m in a good mood, I’ll be more than happy to detach EVERY last appendage from the rest of the body.

When that bell rings, I assure you it’s going to be you hanging onto the last clutches of consciousness, John. You’ll hear my theme song reverberating in synch with your throbbing head as proof of my victory on this night."

Shawn grabs the camera and lets his nostrils flare wildly, squealing with delight.

"Then? THEN you will wish that you never returned and your night will end the same way it ended in your first tour through here…

…With a whimper."

_____--____

3:14 PM

After the filming of a promo is complete, the rest of the job falls into the eager palms of XWF’s production staff who to go work on filtering several colorful word choices by Shawn, not to mention others. Rumor has it a special staff was employed for fellow loudmouth, Brad Pierce. But that’s another story for another day. The pre-taped interviews, make their way to the production truck be placed sporadically throughout the typical broadcast. Thus, Shawn’s business day is complete as they still have till Wednesday to complete it.

However, as he returns to the hotel, his vigil returns to his cell phone while he anxiously lays about the motel room. With Maria doing some shopping for a few hours, we’re left alone with the XWF superstar, watching his life – or seemingly lack thereof – unfold before our very eyes.

Time progresses and he makes several attempts to communicate with his wife. Each time, he tries a different approach to garner her attention.

"Honey, it’s me. Call me when you get this message. Bye."

"Taliana, pick up your phone. We need to talk and we need to talk NOW."

"Taliana, please just answer your phone. I don’t know where you are right now, but it’s about 4:00 now and I still haven’t heard from you in days. We’ve got to talk. Just hear me out… please."

Another hour or so passes as he crashes back into his bed. He’s startled from his half-slumber when his "Stronger" by Kanye West ringtone goes off. However, he sulks when the name on the caller ID isn’t who he’d like it to be in this instance. What that gives us, though, is an opportunity to watch Shawn Christopher bond with another one of his kind.

ERIC ANDERSON
(Deadlyus Secret Emo Kiddus)

A fellow wrestler, Eric Anderson is one of XWF’s more known personalities and a running buddy in what’s known as a "stable," a group of wrestlers uniting for a common purpose. He calls to check in on Shawn.

"What’s shaking, Eric?"

"Not much, Captain. Hey, me and the boys are gonna hit a couple bars tonight, man. Wanna come?"

"I’m… not really in the mood, dude. It takes a WHOLE lot to get me to even touch that alcohol shit, anyhow. Another time, maybe?"

"All right. But you change your mind, give me a holler. I can’t wait to see Chris’s face when I convince the waitresses he’s a kid that needs a booster seat."

A light chuckle from Shawn. "Good stuff. Later, man."

He clicks it shut again and flings it back on the nightstand. When his search for sleep over the next half hour doesn’t give him the results he wants, he casually surfs the stations looking for something to occupy his mind. At this juncture, we decide it may be in our best interests to leave him be as it seems his day may be complete, but when his mother returns from her daily shopping rituals, the day only goes south from here for Shawn Christopher. She decides to once again reason with her son to not put work ahead of his personal life.

6:16 PM

"Shawn, you’ve seriously got to stop laying around and accept the fact there’s a problem."

"Damn it, Mom. I’m just trying to get a hold of my wife to smooth things over, then things can go back to the way they were and she’ll forget about whoever the fuck this new bozo is in her life. I’ve tried dialing that woman all day, but I haven’t gotten ANYTHING in return. Text, call, not even a breath, I’d assume."

A startling laugh catches both us and Shawn completely off-guard. Inquisitively, he ponders her motives for laughter.

"All right, I’ll bite. What’s the matter?"

"Do you REALLY listen to yourself talk? Do you think things are gonna be that simple? They left home, they only talk to you on occasion, you’ve all but ignored her when she cried out to you and you think things are going to get ‘smoothed over’ with one phone call?"

He offers no rebuttal, but the emotional tirade from his mother doesn’t halt.

"Your father and I had problems with things like this, too, you know. He’d travel the road a majority of the year and half the time, I cried myself to sleep praying everything was going to be fine and that somewhere, he wasn’t cheating on me with some ring rat. I know what Taliana went through and it hurts, Shawn. It HURTS. If you really, truly want to fix things with her, it’s going to take a HELL of a lot more than one phone call AND if work calls you, you need to stop jumping and put them to the side when your MARRIAGE is at stake."

We step back for a few moments when the emotional atmosphere gets the better of both Maria and Shawn. They cling to one another carefully for a few moments to calm themselves down. When Maria’s sobbing is lessened, Shawn, at last, may have come to grips with the fact that he’s got some work to do.

"We’ll figure this out, Mom. I’m not going to let Taliana go. Not that…"

The reverberations of his phone skittering slowly across the table interrupt him. When he sees the name on the Caller ID, he hurriedly answers it. And now, the infamous Taliana we’ve heard so much about through the course of the day.

TALIANA WALKER-DANIELSON
(Iconerus Wifeus?)

"Shawn…"

"Taliana! Goddamn it, I’ve been trying to call you for days. Who the fuck is this other guy you’ve been seeing? Where’s my daughter?"

"…It’s over."

CLICK.

That’s all he gets from his wife before the sound of the last two words catch him like a bullet to the chest. In a frightened state now, Maria takes the phone from him and holds her son again, not sure what else to do in this time of need. She’d heard those two ominous words from Taliana as well and wondered just what could be meant by them.

On this day, it is apparent we have walked straight into an already tension-filled environment and we may have just witnessed the end of a marriage. This shows just how much of a toll the sport of professional wrestling can take on the lives of people who aren’t prepared to live with each and every burden that comes with it.

Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us tonight and witnessing first-hand just how dangerous the sport can be. Now, it is our job to process all this information and make gobs of money off one man’s tragedy! But before we go, our cameras are lucky enough to catch one more act by the Danielson clan’s oldest son.

"Where are you going?!"

Maria’s cries are directed towards her son, walking out the door with leather coat in hand. He opens the door and mutters one last phrase to his mom.

"…I need a drink right now."