Much like the previous post, props to Ed, Ron and Producer Bill for putting the bee in my bonnet to want to talk about this concept a bit. If you’re not already listening to “The Greatest Pod” for free wherever you get your podcasts you’re missing out on some fun, nerdy and insightful conversations.
So going, back – on their last Patreon Exclusive podcast the
boys went on for a while talking about the challenges they’ve faced trying to
break it into the entertainment industry in Los Angeles. Specifically as
comedians, writers and TV producers. Not just the obstacles put in front of
them by other people and by the natural gatekeepery way the industry works, but
by their own personal attitudes and approaches and perceptions.
So setting the Wayback Machine all the
way to Sept 1995 for a minute I remember the first time I set foot in a
professional wrestling ring. I’ve spoken about that “first day” and the process
of training before so I won’t rehash it here – that’s not what the topic at
hand is. However I do want to take a
bit to reflect on how I was treated and more importantly the way I treated
myself at that time (and in many ways still to this day.)
In Sept of 1995 I was 330lbs and hadn’t been doing anything
seriously athletic in ... well ... ever. I dropped out of Gym in Grade 11 as soon
as that was an option for me. I was on the school curling team – because, Canada – and that
was about it. At that time I was barely surviving in First Year University and going
through a lot of the disillusionment that many kids that age experience once
they are removed from the safety net of public education and thrown headfirst
into the Post Secondary Education for Profit world where nobody gives a good
God Damn about you so long as you get your tuition payments in on time and make
sure to buy the professors textbook only available in the University Bookstore
for the low-low price of Go Fuck Yourself.
So when friends of mine heard about the local group of Indy
Wrestlers were open to bringing new people in my attitude towards the whole
thing was a resounding “Yeah, sure I’ll check it out.”
Yes, huge wrestling fan as a kid. My dad slung beers in the Winnipeg
Arena back when the late Nick
Bockwinkle was the greatest wrestler alive. I watched all the WrestleMania’s,
got caught up on the NWA whenever it came on the free cable tryouts. I turned
my GI Joes and Star Wars figures into wrestlers and booked events in the tiny
hand made ring Dad made for us out of wood and twine. I booked angles and shows
in my bedroom, complete with entrance music and me doing the Play by Play and
ring announcing while putting poor toys through their paces. I had a poster of The Rockers in my
bedroom (much to my mother’s concern) and was able to converse with the more
hard nosed and sporty dudes in school about who the best wrestlers were even
though we had nothing else in common.
All this to say, I loved wrestling. But never in a million
years did I think that this was something I could do.
To say I was a soft boy would be accurate. While I didn’t
get beat up a lot, I certainly got beat up enough. My feelings were on my
sleeve, I was openly nerdy, always speaking up in class and got good grades. I
might as well have had a sign on my back during the 80s that read “Easy Target.”
So the very concept of a dude like me getting into a world
filled with grown men who came from questionable backgrounds, making questionable
life choices, who enjoyed hard drinking, gruff actions in a carnival lifestyle …
well, it didn’t seem like a fit.
Plus, the wrestling practices were brutal. In 1995 the motto
was still “nobody gets in who can’t take the abuse.” And I took a lot of it.
Looking back I wonder if it was as bad as I remember and frankly it’s so long
ago now it’s difficult to be sure.
But I remember how I felt.
Worthless.
Like I couldn’t do it.
In fairness at the time I felt like I couldn’t do anything.
I was months away from being kicked out of University. The girl I was crushing
on was about to break my heart and I felt horribly guilty every time I went home
to my parents, knowing how hard they’d worked to put money away for my
education that I was blowing.
Everyone told me that I was making a mess of my life.
Friends told me not to waste my time with wrestling. My dad shook his head in
disgust when he discovered what I’d been up to that I kept coming home limping
or with new welts and bruises. One of the guys I was training with even told me
candidly “You don’t think we’re really gonna be successful at this, do you?”
And truthfully I didn’t.
For many years I would show up at local events, wade through
dumb little ego fights and petty politics for the chance to lace up my used
combat boots, throw on my cobbled together gear for the chance to take a
beating for the dozens in attendance in the hopes of taking away enough money
to grab a snack and bus fare home.
So why did I keep this up?
Well, wrestling may not have been my first love. But it was
the first thing I felt that loved me back.
Okay, it was a tough love. And a tad abusive at times.
Then I started noticing things.
People in attendance started responding not only to my
matches but to me.
While not an Adonis I was certainly becoming fitter with
every week of action. As such, my confidence began to grow.
With said confidence, the slings and arrows of the more
caustic and arrogant class of wrestler stopped hurting as much. My emotional
callous had grown to the point where I could take more things on the chin and
keep going without chewing my own liver about it.
I started making contacts with other wrestlers outside of
Winnipeg. This was still the late 90s so let’s not
get crazy here, but the realization that I was beginning to build a reputation
was interesting and rewarding.
Plus I got better at talking to ladies. So… You know.
Of my initial class of wrestlers I am the only one still
active. And I have been for 25 years. By most people’s accounting my career would
be called a complete waste of time if they only looked as deeply as my bank
account – which no, you can’t do that. Don’t ask.
However there’s more to a person’s life and career than that.
Especially in professional wrestling.
There are the moments that resonate in your soul that will
live with you forever.
-
The Selkirk Winter Carnival in 1997, tagging in
the Main Event in front of 500 screaming kids and their families against a
couple of real bruising fellows. And knowing with absolute certainty that for
the first time in my life I was not only having a good match, I was having a great match that the crowd was 100%
invested in
-
Being an extra for the WWE for the final sold
out live events to take place at the legendary Winnipeg Arena months before it
was torn down
-
Wrestling on traditional PPV for a (failed)
start up company
-
Multiple trips to Japan
-
Matches with legends of the sport
-
Having friends and (yes I’ll say it) fans all
over the world who have seen my stuff or interacted with me online
-
Being a member of the Cauliflower Alley Club and
being recognized by the Legends who paved the way when I am able to go to the
conventions.
Every time I get asked to wrestle is in and of itself a
success.
And I’m not done yet.
AK
Support your favourite Wrestler today by visiting Pro Wrestling Tees and
browse to your hearts content. Just, while you’re there, consider looking at my
site first willya? I mean, emotional success is fulfilling but a few sheckles
here and there help keep the roof over my kids’ head. J
