Dear Wrestling,
It turns out I probably have ADD. It's nice to have an explanation for why I can't seem to update things like this on even a monthly basis, I guess.
I want to talk about rejection sensitive dysphoria. This can be a mental illness on its own, but it's very often? Most often? seen alongside ADHD, especially in adults and even more so in women.
Essentially it means that when corrected or rejected in even a very normal, mild way, my brain most often responds with something like, "You know you're worst person they've ever met, right? Like they're not saying it because it's rude, but you should definitely never talk to them again, and frankly the idea that you ever talk is disgusting."
Although actually it's rarely in words. The feeling is there, but unvocalized.
When it's something I really care about--when it's writing--it's much, much worse.
I know all kinds of things about writing. I know that making mistakes is part of the process and how one learns. I know that a great proofreader and editor can make all the difference in the world for how a piece turns out. I know that practice is necessary--and lots of it, preferably daily. I know that all my favorite authors wrote things that were objectively atrocious.
And yet, when I think about showing a story--not a letter, or an article, but a story--to an audience, I want to die. I genuinely cannot think of anything more horrifying. I would rather strap a singlet around my rolls and take my first terrifying bump in front of an audience than expose my writing to the world.
It's so overwhelming I drown in it. All the normal yearning for praise and acclaim and recognition from like-minded peers is...it's like it's the horizon. No matter where I am or how far I go, it's never closer. It's never achievable.
And yet I still write. If I can't bear it for the rest of the year, then at least in November. The pep talks from authors I love, the sense of being encouraged to at least try, that if nothing else, it's a bit of practice. All these things and more help me spend one month a year really writing.
Why can't I keep it up after? Because as soon as midnight ticks over on December first, all the horror and pain breaks through the dam and swamps me again.
I think this year it might get better, though. Two years ago I didn't know rejection sensitive dysphoria was a thing. A month ago I hadn't seriously considered that I might have ADHD--I just assumed PTSD had broken my brain pretty thoroughly, and that was that.
I'm meeting with my doctor about it this week. For now though, I have hope.
Love you,
Tam
Monday, November 4, 2019
Wednesday, April 24, 2019
Trying to Imagine What You Can't Imagine
Dear Wrestling,
I really want to understand why someone with good sense and a conscience would go work for Vince McMahon.
I am coming to the conclusion that I cannot understand this--that who I am, how I'm built, it is not possible for me to understand this.
My hope, tiny and flickering as it is, is that by trying to work this out I either do understand, or I save other people who can't understand a lot of time and anger.
So. Today's iteration of this infinite and perpetual quandary is brought to you by [checks] less than 12 minutes and 42 seconds of Jimmy Jacobs interview on Marty and Sarah Love Wrestling.
That's how much I was able to catch before I had to go to work, and just that was enough that I fumed the whole way there.
This, to me, is the bottom line of the calculus of Working For Vince McMahon: he is the ultimate arbiter of EVERYTHING on those shows, right? So every bra and panty match, every racist promo, every dollop of xenophobia, all of the shit, is just as much his brand as the good stuff, agreed?
Jimmy says in that 12 minutes that sometimes saying the lines isn't about doing good work, it's about trust. Even if it's a shitty line, you go out and you say it because then Vince knows he can trust you.
Wrestlers and the wrestler-adjacent seem to love little more than telling fans, "You have no idea what you're talking about, what it's like, how the business works", etc. Obvious corollary: they do know, understand, etc. They'll never ever tell us, apparently, because...?
But we are told we must understand that we understand nothing.
So. A wrestler going to work for him KNOWS that they will be expected to obey the whims and unchecked worst impulses of a man who thought the treatment of Bull Nakano by commentary was good entertainment. A man who thought that the birth of a hand by an elderly woman was...god, who even knows--worth putting on television, at any rate. Racism, xenophobia, homophobia--if he says, "Insinuate that being a housewife is shameful and repugnant", you say "Yes--and Bobby Lashley's sisters!".
I didn't grow up with a childhood dream. I didn't even grow up thinking I'd live past 18, and I never knew why--I just couldn't imagine a future. So I don't have any clue the power a childhood dream can have. I literally cannot imagine wanting something so much when I'm twelve, that I'm eager to put up with this kind of behavior as an adult.
I also grew up lower middle class, and became dirt poor as an adolescent and an adult. Contrary to what you might expect, this actually had the effect of making me...kind of money-averse, to be honest. I don't trust it, and I definitely don't trust those who have it. I don't trust jobs that gain a lot of it--they seem to pretty much all involve taking advantage of other humans in some way, often while being taken advantage of yourself. I do not understand the pull of being promised (the tiny chance of making) large amounts of money.
I was discussing this all with my husband, who trained as a sociologist. We came up with a metaphor that I think I can make work and unsurprisingly, it's also one about accepting being told to inflict suffering on other humans: being a soldier.
If you sign up to join the US armed forces, you know you are signing up with organizations that inflict suffering, that enforce coups, that have committed genocide, have ravaged villages. You are *hoping* you are part of the force that liberated concentration camps, protected different villages, helped free trapped people...but you don't know, and it won't be up to you.
It's still hard. I still don't accept it. But if I think of the phrase, "Soldier, shut up and soldier", I feel I have at least a small sense of it.
He might turn you into Red Skull...but there's also a chance to be Captain America. It's not the choice I would ever make, but it's one I can at least understand.
Love,
Tam
I really want to understand why someone with good sense and a conscience would go work for Vince McMahon.
I am coming to the conclusion that I cannot understand this--that who I am, how I'm built, it is not possible for me to understand this.
My hope, tiny and flickering as it is, is that by trying to work this out I either do understand, or I save other people who can't understand a lot of time and anger.
So. Today's iteration of this infinite and perpetual quandary is brought to you by [checks] less than 12 minutes and 42 seconds of Jimmy Jacobs interview on Marty and Sarah Love Wrestling.
That's how much I was able to catch before I had to go to work, and just that was enough that I fumed the whole way there.
This, to me, is the bottom line of the calculus of Working For Vince McMahon: he is the ultimate arbiter of EVERYTHING on those shows, right? So every bra and panty match, every racist promo, every dollop of xenophobia, all of the shit, is just as much his brand as the good stuff, agreed?
Jimmy says in that 12 minutes that sometimes saying the lines isn't about doing good work, it's about trust. Even if it's a shitty line, you go out and you say it because then Vince knows he can trust you.
Wrestlers and the wrestler-adjacent seem to love little more than telling fans, "You have no idea what you're talking about, what it's like, how the business works", etc. Obvious corollary: they do know, understand, etc. They'll never ever tell us, apparently, because...?
But we are told we must understand that we understand nothing.
So. A wrestler going to work for him KNOWS that they will be expected to obey the whims and unchecked worst impulses of a man who thought the treatment of Bull Nakano by commentary was good entertainment. A man who thought that the birth of a hand by an elderly woman was...god, who even knows--worth putting on television, at any rate. Racism, xenophobia, homophobia--if he says, "Insinuate that being a housewife is shameful and repugnant", you say "Yes--and Bobby Lashley's sisters!".
I didn't grow up with a childhood dream. I didn't even grow up thinking I'd live past 18, and I never knew why--I just couldn't imagine a future. So I don't have any clue the power a childhood dream can have. I literally cannot imagine wanting something so much when I'm twelve, that I'm eager to put up with this kind of behavior as an adult.
I also grew up lower middle class, and became dirt poor as an adolescent and an adult. Contrary to what you might expect, this actually had the effect of making me...kind of money-averse, to be honest. I don't trust it, and I definitely don't trust those who have it. I don't trust jobs that gain a lot of it--they seem to pretty much all involve taking advantage of other humans in some way, often while being taken advantage of yourself. I do not understand the pull of being promised (the tiny chance of making) large amounts of money.
I was discussing this all with my husband, who trained as a sociologist. We came up with a metaphor that I think I can make work and unsurprisingly, it's also one about accepting being told to inflict suffering on other humans: being a soldier.
If you sign up to join the US armed forces, you know you are signing up with organizations that inflict suffering, that enforce coups, that have committed genocide, have ravaged villages. You are *hoping* you are part of the force that liberated concentration camps, protected different villages, helped free trapped people...but you don't know, and it won't be up to you.
It's still hard. I still don't accept it. But if I think of the phrase, "Soldier, shut up and soldier", I feel I have at least a small sense of it.
He might turn you into Red Skull...but there's also a chance to be Captain America. It's not the choice I would ever make, but it's one I can at least understand.
Love,
Tam
Tuesday, April 23, 2019
The Void Shouts Back
Dear Wrestling,
You ever have your therapist explain something as being good for you, necessary, so it doesn't matter if you believe it or not? Like, you need self-esteem for all kinds of health reasons, and it doesn't really matter if you think you're particularly good or not?
I really don't know how to say this, at all. It's dark and ugly and illogical and gross and I hate it. I hate it so much.
When people tell me I'm terrible, I believe them. I believe them utterly and my immediate, automatic response is that I should hurt myself.
I don't believe everyone, thank goodness. If one of my senators said it, I would laugh in his face, because they are both dirtbags and I don't respect either of them at all.
But if it's someone I love, someone I admire, someone I suspect is a pretty good person...I have not yet learned how to mediate that response. How to put it in context, how to be rational about it, essentially.
I don't know why this twisted up, gnarled knot of PTSD is so strong. There are so many I've dealt with, that don't bother me at all, it's bizarre that this one is so powerful! It is, though, and it couldn't care less how much I hate it, how much it embarrasses me and makes me feel broken and alone.
I know I've been dreadful to deal with since Sami came back. I'm really sorry. But he says how bad we are, and I want to reach for a knife. I haven't yet, not for a very long time.
The obvious answer is to sit this one out, and I've tried, I swear to you, I really did try. And I'll keep trying, but wrestling is my joy. It's my life and my love, and he is the best wrestler in the world.
I just wanted to try to explain why...just why.
Tam.
You ever have your therapist explain something as being good for you, necessary, so it doesn't matter if you believe it or not? Like, you need self-esteem for all kinds of health reasons, and it doesn't really matter if you think you're particularly good or not?
I really don't know how to say this, at all. It's dark and ugly and illogical and gross and I hate it. I hate it so much.
When people tell me I'm terrible, I believe them. I believe them utterly and my immediate, automatic response is that I should hurt myself.
I don't believe everyone, thank goodness. If one of my senators said it, I would laugh in his face, because they are both dirtbags and I don't respect either of them at all.
But if it's someone I love, someone I admire, someone I suspect is a pretty good person...I have not yet learned how to mediate that response. How to put it in context, how to be rational about it, essentially.
I don't know why this twisted up, gnarled knot of PTSD is so strong. There are so many I've dealt with, that don't bother me at all, it's bizarre that this one is so powerful! It is, though, and it couldn't care less how much I hate it, how much it embarrasses me and makes me feel broken and alone.
I know I've been dreadful to deal with since Sami came back. I'm really sorry. But he says how bad we are, and I want to reach for a knife. I haven't yet, not for a very long time.
The obvious answer is to sit this one out, and I've tried, I swear to you, I really did try. And I'll keep trying, but wrestling is my joy. It's my life and my love, and he is the best wrestler in the world.
I just wanted to try to explain why...just why.
Tam.
Monday, September 24, 2018
Zen and the Art of This Overused Phrasing
Dear Wrestling,
It's been awhile. Yes, I am this bad at communication with humans, too--much worse, in fact. Too much of my writing depends on being struck by something and then excitedly rushing to share it.
In this case, I'm struck by this essay by the endlessly wise and kind J.J. McGee:
"Your worries and doubts and hopes, the ones that feel solid and heavy as stone: they’re raw material for wrestlers. Something that could be a weapon to break barriers. Something that could be a foundation to build on. So hold on to them, even if it means being willing to exist fully in those moments of despair, to stand in the dark with your heart squashed and your hopes buried, bereft and lost."
Existing fully in moments of despair is something most of us spend most of our lives trying to avoid. So much of life can be described as running to pleasure or running away from pain.
I've been interested in Buddhism for a long, long time. One of the ideas that most drew me, years ago, was precisely this idea of not running from pain. It seemed so...dumb, frankly, so bizarre, and yet there was also so much obvious wisdom down that path, too--and so many Buddhist leaders were deeply thoughtful and immensely compassionate. It was a puzzle to me.
I've always hated pain, passionately, and even as a very little child--age 8 or so--I was learning about herbs and medicine, whatever little things I could do. A friend got stung by a bee on his lower eyelid, and I mixed up some fresh mud to put on it until he could get home, to draw the venom out. I am still the person my family goes to for help with injuries, which I sometimes even treat with my homemade salve.
It took one of the worst toothaches of my life to understand the difference between pain and suffering. I'd had to have oral surgery--I can't even remember which one--and even with the painkillers I'd been given, I was in agony. This happened toward the end of my first year studying Buddhism, and so I turned to my texts. I reread the passages on pain and suffering in Thich Nhat Hanh, Roshi Kapleau, and others, over and over. It took me that long to find the courage to really try it, probably.
"To suppress the grief, the pain, is to condemn oneself to a living death. Living fully means feeling fully; it means becoming completely one with what you are experiencing and not holding it at arm's length." ~ Philip Kapleau
“Do not lose yourself in the past. Do not lose yourself in the future. Do not get caught in your anger, worries, or fears. Come back to the present moment, and touch life deeply. This is mindfulness.”
―
So, I gradually started turning my thoughts from "Holy SHIT do I want this pain to end!" to "Hoo boy, this is some pain. Strong, strong pain. Yep, that's still there. Still just sitting here with my pain..."
It was a process, and one I certainly didn't master that night--or any night since. Suffering, it turns out, is trying to escape what you are actually experiencing. Pain is just the experience itself. In wrestling terms, pain is the story, the match, the promo. Suffering is the late night discussion about whether Sami Zayn will still be a heel when he comes back from injury, months from now.
Wrestlers can't do anything with our smarkiness. Our prognostications are not the fuel they thrive on. They can't craft an emotion out of our preoccupation with who's going where and how the story might end. No criticism of a feud or booking is going to thrill our hearts.
They need our presence and our attention. Our enthusiasm helps, I think, but I'm not certain it's strictly necessary--the best draw it out of us despite ourselves.
All the guessing and the emotional games are fun, sometimes, and to a point, but for me at least it's essential that I remember: those games are not part of wrestling. They don't help my beloveds, and as often as not, they harm me and my enjoyment. Granted, I'm a person who is riddled with anxiety, so it doesn't take much to pull my head out of a match and start worrying about the ratio of money to good stories that wrestling seems to insist on, for instance.
Our presence, our emotional immediacy, and our openness. Those are the components we as fans can contribute to this art we love. Anything else, I suspect we do just for ourselves.
Love,
Autumn
*I do not include criticism of sexism, homophobia, racism, etc. in this. I'm referring only to criticism of aspects of wrestling that do not harm others, such as booking or some aspects of character work.
It's been awhile. Yes, I am this bad at communication with humans, too--much worse, in fact. Too much of my writing depends on being struck by something and then excitedly rushing to share it.
In this case, I'm struck by this essay by the endlessly wise and kind J.J. McGee:
"Your worries and doubts and hopes, the ones that feel solid and heavy as stone: they’re raw material for wrestlers. Something that could be a weapon to break barriers. Something that could be a foundation to build on. So hold on to them, even if it means being willing to exist fully in those moments of despair, to stand in the dark with your heart squashed and your hopes buried, bereft and lost."
Existing fully in moments of despair is something most of us spend most of our lives trying to avoid. So much of life can be described as running to pleasure or running away from pain.
I've been interested in Buddhism for a long, long time. One of the ideas that most drew me, years ago, was precisely this idea of not running from pain. It seemed so...dumb, frankly, so bizarre, and yet there was also so much obvious wisdom down that path, too--and so many Buddhist leaders were deeply thoughtful and immensely compassionate. It was a puzzle to me.
I've always hated pain, passionately, and even as a very little child--age 8 or so--I was learning about herbs and medicine, whatever little things I could do. A friend got stung by a bee on his lower eyelid, and I mixed up some fresh mud to put on it until he could get home, to draw the venom out. I am still the person my family goes to for help with injuries, which I sometimes even treat with my homemade salve.
It took one of the worst toothaches of my life to understand the difference between pain and suffering. I'd had to have oral surgery--I can't even remember which one--and even with the painkillers I'd been given, I was in agony. This happened toward the end of my first year studying Buddhism, and so I turned to my texts. I reread the passages on pain and suffering in Thich Nhat Hanh, Roshi Kapleau, and others, over and over. It took me that long to find the courage to really try it, probably.
"To suppress the grief, the pain, is to condemn oneself to a living death. Living fully means feeling fully; it means becoming completely one with what you are experiencing and not holding it at arm's length." ~ Philip Kapleau
“Do not lose yourself in the past. Do not lose yourself in the future. Do not get caught in your anger, worries, or fears. Come back to the present moment, and touch life deeply. This is mindfulness.”
―
So, I gradually started turning my thoughts from "Holy SHIT do I want this pain to end!" to "Hoo boy, this is some pain. Strong, strong pain. Yep, that's still there. Still just sitting here with my pain..."
It was a process, and one I certainly didn't master that night--or any night since. Suffering, it turns out, is trying to escape what you are actually experiencing. Pain is just the experience itself. In wrestling terms, pain is the story, the match, the promo. Suffering is the late night discussion about whether Sami Zayn will still be a heel when he comes back from injury, months from now.
Wrestlers can't do anything with our smarkiness. Our prognostications are not the fuel they thrive on. They can't craft an emotion out of our preoccupation with who's going where and how the story might end. No criticism of a feud or booking is going to thrill our hearts.
They need our presence and our attention. Our enthusiasm helps, I think, but I'm not certain it's strictly necessary--the best draw it out of us despite ourselves.
All the guessing and the emotional games are fun, sometimes, and to a point, but for me at least it's essential that I remember: those games are not part of wrestling. They don't help my beloveds, and as often as not, they harm me and my enjoyment. Granted, I'm a person who is riddled with anxiety, so it doesn't take much to pull my head out of a match and start worrying about the ratio of money to good stories that wrestling seems to insist on, for instance.
Our presence, our emotional immediacy, and our openness. Those are the components we as fans can contribute to this art we love. Anything else, I suspect we do just for ourselves.
Love,
Autumn
*I do not include criticism of sexism, homophobia, racism, etc. in this. I'm referring only to criticism of aspects of wrestling that do not harm others, such as booking or some aspects of character work.
Sunday, September 16, 2018
Engraved in my heart and in my skin
Dear Wrestling,
On August 18th, my youngest sister's birthday, I paid a nice man to stab me about 100 times a second for 4ish hours. As a result, I now carry this on my shoulder.
Red pandas are adorable creatures, if you're not familiar with them. They're like cuter, more agile raccoons. They're also quite fierce for their size, they're capable hunters, and are the only remaining creature from their family in the world. Watching them move, one can see certain resemblances to El Generico, especially in his tendency to thrown himself onto Kevin in celebration. I'm not a fan of a portrait tattoo, but I am very much a fan of an inside joke (or loving reference, if you prefer...)
A turnbuckle screw is pretty much my favorite wrestling tattoo. It's simple, elegant, and clear.
Cherry blossoms, and especially in this style, are something I've felt conflicted about for a long time. On the one hand, it can feel appropriative for my white ass to carve them onto my skin. On the other hand...the trees in my backyard were some of my dearest friends growing up. I named them, and our little ornamental cherry blossom tree was my favorite. Her name was Xantha, after a dryad in a book, and she had these two limbs that were perfectly placed for sitting and reading or cloud/branch watching. She was a double blossoming type, and in the spring I would climb up and shake her branches so that the flowers rained down on my little sisters.
When I visit Charlotte, I always check to see that she still stands.
I love English, but there are some wonderful phrases and concepts we lack. Weltschmerz is probably my very favorite, but mono no aware is amazing. I don't even have your classic 'weeb's' understanding of Japanese language or culture, but that idea is very relevant to me, nonetheless. If you're not familiar, it's a big part of why cherry blossoms are so revered in Japan.
Finally, the piece of this tattoo that might be the most meaningful to me: 'a mark who persists'. This phrase comes from an essay by the brilliant and sweet @MithGifs. It's truer for me than she could ever have intended, and when I read it, it rang in my heart like a bell. I am a mark, a wrestling fan. I am a mark, a person who is open to the world, sometimes to the point of being naive and foolish.
And I persist. I persist through third world poverty and mental illness and PTSD and malnutrition. Through joy and its end, through disappointment and hurt, hurricanes and dreams and depression. Through Latin charts and thinking I should get a trade working with my hands since I'm good at trivia, but I'm not a good thinker, and then finding out better...
Normally when I get tattoos, I don't choose ones that are deeply meaningful. Things I care about, but small things--knives and thunderstorms and herbs--but nothing that if it was ruined, would really hurt me. This is the first time in almost fifteen years that I've put my heart and my love on the line--on my sleeve, in fact. It's still relatively safe: El Generico is retired among the orphans, after all. The chance that he'll come back and do something terrible are statistically negligible. But it could happen, and it would crush me...
In those terms, a tattoo like this is like a moonsault: a blind leap of trust. Anytime we trust, we do so knowing that trust could be broken. Life is life, and anything could happen.
But we do it anyway. Because it matters, because we care, because...if we did otherwise, we simply wouldn't be who we are.
Wrestling is entirely made of trust, I think. (It can also be made entirely of art, or love--that's wrestling physics for you) The most urgent is the trust between workers, but the base level is the trust of the audience. We trust them to entertain us. We trust them to tell us stories, and to hurt us in the best ways, with sorrow and with purest joy. And they trust us to show up, to cheer, to shyly say hi at the merch table, to care...to trust them.
So we climb up, unsteady, pulse racing, and we jump off, trusting that they will catch us, as they always have before.
May it always be so.
Love,
Beck
On August 18th, my youngest sister's birthday, I paid a nice man to stab me about 100 times a second for 4ish hours. As a result, I now carry this on my shoulder.
Red pandas are adorable creatures, if you're not familiar with them. They're like cuter, more agile raccoons. They're also quite fierce for their size, they're capable hunters, and are the only remaining creature from their family in the world. Watching them move, one can see certain resemblances to El Generico, especially in his tendency to thrown himself onto Kevin in celebration. I'm not a fan of a portrait tattoo, but I am very much a fan of an inside joke (or loving reference, if you prefer...)
A turnbuckle screw is pretty much my favorite wrestling tattoo. It's simple, elegant, and clear.
When I visit Charlotte, I always check to see that she still stands.
I love English, but there are some wonderful phrases and concepts we lack. Weltschmerz is probably my very favorite, but mono no aware is amazing. I don't even have your classic 'weeb's' understanding of Japanese language or culture, but that idea is very relevant to me, nonetheless. If you're not familiar, it's a big part of why cherry blossoms are so revered in Japan.
Finally, the piece of this tattoo that might be the most meaningful to me: 'a mark who persists'. This phrase comes from an essay by the brilliant and sweet @MithGifs. It's truer for me than she could ever have intended, and when I read it, it rang in my heart like a bell. I am a mark, a wrestling fan. I am a mark, a person who is open to the world, sometimes to the point of being naive and foolish.
And I persist. I persist through third world poverty and mental illness and PTSD and malnutrition. Through joy and its end, through disappointment and hurt, hurricanes and dreams and depression. Through Latin charts and thinking I should get a trade working with my hands since I'm good at trivia, but I'm not a good thinker, and then finding out better...
Normally when I get tattoos, I don't choose ones that are deeply meaningful. Things I care about, but small things--knives and thunderstorms and herbs--but nothing that if it was ruined, would really hurt me. This is the first time in almost fifteen years that I've put my heart and my love on the line--on my sleeve, in fact. It's still relatively safe: El Generico is retired among the orphans, after all. The chance that he'll come back and do something terrible are statistically negligible. But it could happen, and it would crush me...
In those terms, a tattoo like this is like a moonsault: a blind leap of trust. Anytime we trust, we do so knowing that trust could be broken. Life is life, and anything could happen.
But we do it anyway. Because it matters, because we care, because...if we did otherwise, we simply wouldn't be who we are.
Wrestling is entirely made of trust, I think. (It can also be made entirely of art, or love--that's wrestling physics for you) The most urgent is the trust between workers, but the base level is the trust of the audience. We trust them to entertain us. We trust them to tell us stories, and to hurt us in the best ways, with sorrow and with purest joy. And they trust us to show up, to cheer, to shyly say hi at the merch table, to care...to trust them.
So we climb up, unsteady, pulse racing, and we jump off, trusting that they will catch us, as they always have before.
May it always be so.
Love,
Beck
Sunday, August 12, 2018
A Note To Kota Ibushi, written before the G128 Final
Dear Ibushi-senshu,
I am very new to wrestling. I wasn't around for most of my favorite stories. I missed all of Steen and Generico in Ring of Honor, I missed you and Kenny in DDT. It feels like a miracle that I'm here now, and that wrestling means so much to me. It has become my favorite art form.
You're about to compete in the G1 final and I feel compelled to tell you that I am utterly moved and compelled by your storytelling. By your sense of fun and danger, and your incredible commitment to this art form I love so, so much. You seem to have my favorite kind of madness--a madness dedicated to pursuing your quest, regardless of what society or anyone says about it.
The way you move is like magic. It's like superheroes. As a child, I wanted so badly for the X-Men and others to be real, and you're closer than I ever thought I'd see. It's not just the physical motions--many people can do a moonsault, after all. It's the way every line and curve of your body seems to communicate emotion and story. Normally, only storybook characters can do that.
You seem to make sense of movement and force the way I make sense of language--like it's innate.
Like it's my breath.
It's not innate, it's incredibly hard work, and to me that makes the beauty that results even more meaningful.
I find trying to communicate how much your matches affect me, and why, nearly impossible. I almost think that if it could be said with words, you'd be a writer.
In honor of you, your story and Kenny's, I had this tattoo done recently. It is my first wrestling tattoo. I hope it communicates better than my poor words.
With my fervent best wishes,
Autumn Dalzell
Saturday, July 21, 2018
Ich kann nicht anders.
Dear Wrestling,
I've cancelled my WWE network subscription. I have one last ticket, to a RAW before Summerslam, but I'm trying to give that away.
I have a good footing in New Japan now, and I have a beloved local promotion I attend monthly: given that WWE isn't my only source for wrestling anymore, I've decided to stop watching. To be clear, not only is not my only source, it's also the worst wrestling I watch in a week.
"Worst?? I thought you loved Kevin Owens! What about the New Day, they're why started you loving wrestling in the first place!"
Moral calculus is hard and brittle. I'm doing the best I can, and I assume those men are as well. This is what matters most to me, right now, in no particular order:
1. Hulk Hogan is a racist. He said so himself. Some of the best wisdom I've ever heard is Maya Angelou's "When someone tells you who they are, believe them. The first time." He has made no sincere apology that I have seen, and has definitely not performed any actions that would show such an apology to be internalized and life-changing.
2. Vince McMahon is a fascist. He has his own small empire (and I use that term in the full historical sense, as an entity which has colonies from which it removes wealth while providing nothing of substance in return) and now that we have a fascist in the White House, he has redoubled his efforts to promote hatred and xenophobia--more than usual. His wife works for that evil administration, and he has at least once used its propaganda in a storyline (Sami Zayn and Bobby Lashley's "sisters").
3. My money doesn't go to support the wrestlers or their families practically at all. My understanding is that they get almost nothing from the network, around $3 on t shirts, etc. To be honest, I won't be noticed in my absence, let alone missed.
4. The writing is atrocious. It would have been dated and out of touch in the 90s, let alone now. Last week I heard Seth Rollins make a sheep-shagger joke about Drew McIntyre. In 2018. It was once much, MUCH worse of course, and this is taken as permission to remain lazy and dismal.
5. WWE retain an insane level of control of their workers, while giving none of the benefits associated in the modern world with working for a large corporation--health insurance, vacation, a work-life balance...
6. Much of this to say, these workers need to unionize desperately. I could see an argument for independent wrestlers remaining as they are, but WWE workers are at the (nonexistent) mercy of one man, ultimately, and a man who has proven at every chance that he does not have their well-being in mind.
There's more, of course, but this is what comes to mind easily. I just can't bear paying for the privilege of being disrespected as a human being on a weekly basis, not anymore. If the analogy is that it's 1938 again, and I believe we are in a version of that era, then I can't keep buying Bayer, I'm not buying a new Volkswagen, etc. Not when there are options that don't cause me to have a moral crisis every time the bill comes due.
Finally let me stress most of all that I understand deeply the need for escape in this world. I absolutely approve of that impulse, it is one that keeps us sane, as much as possible. I would never presume to make this decision for someone else: it's painful enough to make for me. I don't say any of this to judge or shame someone for choosing differently. This is my place to communicate with my own little god of Wrestling, and that's all.
I do still love those wrestlers. I hope they do well and stay healthy.
Love,
Autumn
I've cancelled my WWE network subscription. I have one last ticket, to a RAW before Summerslam, but I'm trying to give that away.
I have a good footing in New Japan now, and I have a beloved local promotion I attend monthly: given that WWE isn't my only source for wrestling anymore, I've decided to stop watching. To be clear, not only is not my only source, it's also the worst wrestling I watch in a week.
"Worst?? I thought you loved Kevin Owens! What about the New Day, they're why started you loving wrestling in the first place!"
Moral calculus is hard and brittle. I'm doing the best I can, and I assume those men are as well. This is what matters most to me, right now, in no particular order:
1. Hulk Hogan is a racist. He said so himself. Some of the best wisdom I've ever heard is Maya Angelou's "When someone tells you who they are, believe them. The first time." He has made no sincere apology that I have seen, and has definitely not performed any actions that would show such an apology to be internalized and life-changing.
2. Vince McMahon is a fascist. He has his own small empire (and I use that term in the full historical sense, as an entity which has colonies from which it removes wealth while providing nothing of substance in return) and now that we have a fascist in the White House, he has redoubled his efforts to promote hatred and xenophobia--more than usual. His wife works for that evil administration, and he has at least once used its propaganda in a storyline (Sami Zayn and Bobby Lashley's "sisters").
3. My money doesn't go to support the wrestlers or their families practically at all. My understanding is that they get almost nothing from the network, around $3 on t shirts, etc. To be honest, I won't be noticed in my absence, let alone missed.
4. The writing is atrocious. It would have been dated and out of touch in the 90s, let alone now. Last week I heard Seth Rollins make a sheep-shagger joke about Drew McIntyre. In 2018. It was once much, MUCH worse of course, and this is taken as permission to remain lazy and dismal.
5. WWE retain an insane level of control of their workers, while giving none of the benefits associated in the modern world with working for a large corporation--health insurance, vacation, a work-life balance...
6. Much of this to say, these workers need to unionize desperately. I could see an argument for independent wrestlers remaining as they are, but WWE workers are at the (nonexistent) mercy of one man, ultimately, and a man who has proven at every chance that he does not have their well-being in mind.
There's more, of course, but this is what comes to mind easily. I just can't bear paying for the privilege of being disrespected as a human being on a weekly basis, not anymore. If the analogy is that it's 1938 again, and I believe we are in a version of that era, then I can't keep buying Bayer, I'm not buying a new Volkswagen, etc. Not when there are options that don't cause me to have a moral crisis every time the bill comes due.
Finally let me stress most of all that I understand deeply the need for escape in this world. I absolutely approve of that impulse, it is one that keeps us sane, as much as possible. I would never presume to make this decision for someone else: it's painful enough to make for me. I don't say any of this to judge or shame someone for choosing differently. This is my place to communicate with my own little god of Wrestling, and that's all.
I do still love those wrestlers. I hope they do well and stay healthy.
Love,
Autumn
Tuesday, July 17, 2018
The Difficulty of Reality
Dear Wrestling,
Did you know that your eyes do this thing called saccades and that one thing it kind of means is that you never really see what you think you're seeing? Also your peripheral vision lacks color--your brain fills it in, sure, but the physical structure of your eye isn't doing that.
Basically our brains lie to us all the time about what we're seeing and feeling and experiencing, just to try to get through a freaking day.
I did my degree in Religious Studies, primarily in Buddhism and Eastern Religions. A few times in classes, it came up that this incredibly hard work of trying to become aware and present and awake? It might be bad for us. My mentor was quick to be honest: this might not be the best path for me or you. It might hurt more than it helps, and I can't know which it will be--you can't either.
I had some traumas when I was a little kid. Pretty bad ones, which I then did not quite remember until I was well into my twenties. That's a defense mechanism, and it worked outrageously well: I was a happy, active, smart little kid. I had a great childhood--the normal bullies and doubts and things, but overall I look back and it's all bike rides and long summer days and drinking out of the hose in Brandon Kincaid's yard...
This is a long way around to say, it's probably a good thing that it's nearly impossible to imagine what people in Syria are going through. It's probably, for us and our loved ones at least, a good thing.
It's not a prerequisite of helping that we become traumatized ourselves--or that we add to the trauma we're already carrying.
I've struggled to articulate why I feel so grateful to be able to help with Sami for Syria. It feels hideous on the face of it--am I grateful that these people are hurting? What am I, trying to put a white savior complex to work?
And no, of course not! But the situation is one of the worst in the world. It's hell on earth. To be able to give a little, and know that I'm paying for a bandage, or a splint--that's incredible. That is the keenest relief. Studies on PTSD and trauma are still pretty new, but one of the things we know is that being able to exert any control, however small, makes an enormous difference in one's chances of developing PTSD.
We're not, thank all good things, we're not helpless. It's not the politics, it's not grounding the warplanes or rebuilding homes (yet) but it can be the actual difference between life and death.
Dear, dear wrestling, I love you. Donate a little, sleep some, and have a good G1.
Autumn
Did you know that your eyes do this thing called saccades and that one thing it kind of means is that you never really see what you think you're seeing? Also your peripheral vision lacks color--your brain fills it in, sure, but the physical structure of your eye isn't doing that.
Basically our brains lie to us all the time about what we're seeing and feeling and experiencing, just to try to get through a freaking day.
I did my degree in Religious Studies, primarily in Buddhism and Eastern Religions. A few times in classes, it came up that this incredibly hard work of trying to become aware and present and awake? It might be bad for us. My mentor was quick to be honest: this might not be the best path for me or you. It might hurt more than it helps, and I can't know which it will be--you can't either.
I had some traumas when I was a little kid. Pretty bad ones, which I then did not quite remember until I was well into my twenties. That's a defense mechanism, and it worked outrageously well: I was a happy, active, smart little kid. I had a great childhood--the normal bullies and doubts and things, but overall I look back and it's all bike rides and long summer days and drinking out of the hose in Brandon Kincaid's yard...
This is a long way around to say, it's probably a good thing that it's nearly impossible to imagine what people in Syria are going through. It's probably, for us and our loved ones at least, a good thing.
It's not a prerequisite of helping that we become traumatized ourselves--or that we add to the trauma we're already carrying.
I've struggled to articulate why I feel so grateful to be able to help with Sami for Syria. It feels hideous on the face of it--am I grateful that these people are hurting? What am I, trying to put a white savior complex to work?
And no, of course not! But the situation is one of the worst in the world. It's hell on earth. To be able to give a little, and know that I'm paying for a bandage, or a splint--that's incredible. That is the keenest relief. Studies on PTSD and trauma are still pretty new, but one of the things we know is that being able to exert any control, however small, makes an enormous difference in one's chances of developing PTSD.
We're not, thank all good things, we're not helpless. It's not the politics, it's not grounding the warplanes or rebuilding homes (yet) but it can be the actual difference between life and death.
"I just think as our capacity as human beings, we’re limited to truly understand that suffering, unless we’ve experienced it ourselves. I guess my message would really just be, if you’re grateful that this isn’t happening to you and you’re in a position to help… well, now there’s this fund that is a direct line where your money, your donation, however big, however small, is a direct way to help people who are in a really bad situation that I would imagine you never want to find yourself in.
So, to me, it’s as simple as that. If you think this is a horrible situation, which I think almost, universally, everyone can agree that this is awful that civilians of Syria have to deal with this, and if you ask, I’m sure nine out of 10 people, if asked, “Hey, don’t you wish you could help?” I’m sure people would say, “Yes!” This is a direct way for you to help that’s been set up for you. Not only by me and this fundraising campaign, but by SAMS who’s doing all the legwork and grunt work, of actually making this stuff happen. We’ve set up a very easy and very direct way for anybody to help."Dear, dear wrestling, I love you. Donate a little, sleep some, and have a good G1.
Autumn
Tuesday, July 10, 2018
SZDD
Dear Wrestling,
I've been joking today about suffering from Sami Zayn Deficiency Disorder, but it's one of those jokes with a seed of truth in the center.
I was so angry at Sami there for a few weeks. I'm not anymore. I'm not happy about what happened, of course, but knowing that he's been injured this whole time--well, I was begging for a good reason that he agreed to it, right? One busted shoulder is plenty good reason, let alone two.
So, that's the first thing: that fury evaporated the moment I heard about his injuries.
It's been months since he's been on Smackdown, but you know, I still associate Tuesdays with him? That's the day of the week I miss him worst--that's not precisely accurate, it's the day I think about him most. That mostly takes the form of hoping he's well, remembering that his improv show is coming up and hoping he has fun, and that my friend Marie has fun at the show, being grateful he's able to be creative while recovering...just wishing him the best.
I've barely watched WWE the past couple weeks. I catch Kevin's parts, of course--and I've heard he really likes working with Braun Strowman, so I'm guessing/hoping he's happy. But partly there's been a good bit of New Japan to watch, and I have a new schedule working both Monday and Tuesday evening, and when I tried to watch Raw today, to catch up, it was just...bland. Nothing about it was enough to make me really watch. I skimmed through, caught Kevin wearing his man's hoodie, caught Seth telling one of the Three Jokes About Scots that are apparently allowed (sheepshagger, romance novel cover, and Scrooge McDuck), and nothing there was enough.
It will come as absolutely no surprise to you that I adore fairy tales. I find them terribly useful for learning how to live and how to treat people.
One of my very favorites I learned as a kid, and it's a version of Cinderella with a bit of Lear thrown in. When the father goes to his three daughters and asks how much they love him, in order to determine his will, this Cinderella tells him, "I love you like meat loves salt." The other sisters denounce this as the worst nonsense and insult, and she's evicted to the woods. A spooky woman helps her, and makes her a dress of Spanish moss.
The crux of the story is when Cinderella is working as a cook in secret in her poor blind father's house, and she prepares a meal for him with no salt. He complains and complains, and she brings out the salt cellar and whispers in his ear, "I love you like meat loves salt."
WWE, for me, right now, needs salt.
Love,
Autumn
I've been joking today about suffering from Sami Zayn Deficiency Disorder, but it's one of those jokes with a seed of truth in the center.
I was so angry at Sami there for a few weeks. I'm not anymore. I'm not happy about what happened, of course, but knowing that he's been injured this whole time--well, I was begging for a good reason that he agreed to it, right? One busted shoulder is plenty good reason, let alone two.
So, that's the first thing: that fury evaporated the moment I heard about his injuries.
It's been months since he's been on Smackdown, but you know, I still associate Tuesdays with him? That's the day of the week I miss him worst--that's not precisely accurate, it's the day I think about him most. That mostly takes the form of hoping he's well, remembering that his improv show is coming up and hoping he has fun, and that my friend Marie has fun at the show, being grateful he's able to be creative while recovering...just wishing him the best.
I've barely watched WWE the past couple weeks. I catch Kevin's parts, of course--and I've heard he really likes working with Braun Strowman, so I'm guessing/hoping he's happy. But partly there's been a good bit of New Japan to watch, and I have a new schedule working both Monday and Tuesday evening, and when I tried to watch Raw today, to catch up, it was just...bland. Nothing about it was enough to make me really watch. I skimmed through, caught Kevin wearing his man's hoodie, caught Seth telling one of the Three Jokes About Scots that are apparently allowed (sheepshagger, romance novel cover, and Scrooge McDuck), and nothing there was enough.
It will come as absolutely no surprise to you that I adore fairy tales. I find them terribly useful for learning how to live and how to treat people.
One of my very favorites I learned as a kid, and it's a version of Cinderella with a bit of Lear thrown in. When the father goes to his three daughters and asks how much they love him, in order to determine his will, this Cinderella tells him, "I love you like meat loves salt." The other sisters denounce this as the worst nonsense and insult, and she's evicted to the woods. A spooky woman helps her, and makes her a dress of Spanish moss.
The crux of the story is when Cinderella is working as a cook in secret in her poor blind father's house, and she prepares a meal for him with no salt. He complains and complains, and she brings out the salt cellar and whispers in his ear, "I love you like meat loves salt."
WWE, for me, right now, needs salt.
Love,
Autumn
Tuesday, June 26, 2018
Los Angelitos de El Generico
Dear Wrestling,
Hi. I'm sorry it's been so long. I think I need to recommit to this blog's gimmick, which is that I am writing directly to Wrestling as supernatural entity--it definitely is that.
So. I've been having a rough time off and on--I mean, the country has, and that's part of it. I'm kind of bouncing between feeling terrible about children in cages and then my PTSD picks me up by the scruff of the neck and shakes me, and not like playing, like, "Hi I'm a terrier and you're a rat and I was *made* to destroy you.".
And then I go running back to you, as much as I can for as long as I can.
But what I really want to talk about, because I could use the break, frankly, is Mith's latest (last???) essay.
Go read it.
Please, what follows doesn't make sense without it.
********************
OK.
So I'm thinking about my Los Angelitos.
It's in Scotland, between Glasgow and Edinburgh--not far from Stirling, actually. It's in a lovely green valley. The building itself is nestled among aspens and pines. In the fall, on the rare sunny day, the sun warms the fallen needles and the children carry that scent with them for the rest of their lives. There are beautiful snow white goats in the field, and an enormous snow white dog who lives with the goats. She is not a pet, but she is kind and she takes very good care of the goats. She had to have surgery on her right shoulder, and when Generico massages that sore place she leans into him and nearly takes him off his feet.
The building itself is oddly Mexican in appearance--smooth adobe walls painted magenta and cerulean and lime. It's like a bright jewel dropped on the countryside. The front porch would fit in on any Southern house though: painted wood, banisters, with a few donated rocking chairs at the far end.
My own beloved, sorrowed North Carolina is like enough to Scotland that her people settled here in droves--similar landscape, but better weather, great! Right?
Well.
Especially right now, NC is not the most welcoming place. It tries, it really does--for instance, we've got more folks in sanctuary in places of worship, safely, than any other state. When I worked in a bookstore, we had someone come in seeing about donations for Muslim refugees. It was late enough in the year that our small budget for donations was spent, but my manager and I and several others took some time and bought some notebooks and Korans and Arabic-English dictionaries and geometric coloring books and all kinds of things, because folks here try, but the government is quite the opposite.
Scotland has done much, much better. It's one of the most welcoming places in Europe for refugees. There are language classes at community centers, towns have welcomed half or more of their own populations in families needing help.
So just out from this beautiful, quiet, small city in Scotland is an orphanage--but it's not really an orphanage. It's more of a halfway home for families with young kids--and in the circumstances, by families we mean older and younger siblings. Grandmothers and grandchildren. Single parents and babies.
One of the best parts of this particular refuge is the music. The local musician community has reached out, and there's the most wonderful musical exchange happening now. Local folks are learning new tunes, the kids are getting free music lessons/music therapy, the grownups are getting instruments to replace those they had to leave behind...
It's not home. It's too wet, the hills and trees are weird, the sun just never comes out...It doesn't make up for any number of hardships, some too terrible to bear. There are still nightmares and a foreign language to deal with and bureaucracy and the occasional nasty neighbor.
But it is a beginning. And there is laughter. Little did we know, all this time when he had no English and not much Spanish, Generico does have just a little Arabic--he's not fluent! Not in anything! But he has the same few words in Arabic that he has in English and Spanish. Enough to make the children laugh and to comfort the older folks.
Enough.
He chases the goats and the chickens with the children and he looks very serious when the adults try to teach him to play guitar or fiddle--he never learns, but it's okay. He knows it means thank you, and they know his attempts mean you're welcome.
When the goats and chickens are up for the night, there's a bonfire in the field. Stories get told around it--stories in Arabic, in English, Scots, once or twice in Gaelic. True stories, some that happened to the people there and some that didn't. It is the kind of place to make one believe in hope, and so even when the stories are hard and full of pain and betrayal, the children look to the masked man and know that pain and sorrow can be lived through, and that better days can come again.
Thanks, Wrestling. I love you.
Autumn
Hi. I'm sorry it's been so long. I think I need to recommit to this blog's gimmick, which is that I am writing directly to Wrestling as supernatural entity--it definitely is that.
So. I've been having a rough time off and on--I mean, the country has, and that's part of it. I'm kind of bouncing between feeling terrible about children in cages and then my PTSD picks me up by the scruff of the neck and shakes me, and not like playing, like, "Hi I'm a terrier and you're a rat and I was *made* to destroy you.".
And then I go running back to you, as much as I can for as long as I can.
But what I really want to talk about, because I could use the break, frankly, is Mith's latest (last???) essay.
Go read it.
Please, what follows doesn't make sense without it.
********************
OK.
So I'm thinking about my Los Angelitos.
It's in Scotland, between Glasgow and Edinburgh--not far from Stirling, actually. It's in a lovely green valley. The building itself is nestled among aspens and pines. In the fall, on the rare sunny day, the sun warms the fallen needles and the children carry that scent with them for the rest of their lives. There are beautiful snow white goats in the field, and an enormous snow white dog who lives with the goats. She is not a pet, but she is kind and she takes very good care of the goats. She had to have surgery on her right shoulder, and when Generico massages that sore place she leans into him and nearly takes him off his feet.
The building itself is oddly Mexican in appearance--smooth adobe walls painted magenta and cerulean and lime. It's like a bright jewel dropped on the countryside. The front porch would fit in on any Southern house though: painted wood, banisters, with a few donated rocking chairs at the far end.
My own beloved, sorrowed North Carolina is like enough to Scotland that her people settled here in droves--similar landscape, but better weather, great! Right?
Well.
Especially right now, NC is not the most welcoming place. It tries, it really does--for instance, we've got more folks in sanctuary in places of worship, safely, than any other state. When I worked in a bookstore, we had someone come in seeing about donations for Muslim refugees. It was late enough in the year that our small budget for donations was spent, but my manager and I and several others took some time and bought some notebooks and Korans and Arabic-English dictionaries and geometric coloring books and all kinds of things, because folks here try, but the government is quite the opposite.
Scotland has done much, much better. It's one of the most welcoming places in Europe for refugees. There are language classes at community centers, towns have welcomed half or more of their own populations in families needing help.
So just out from this beautiful, quiet, small city in Scotland is an orphanage--but it's not really an orphanage. It's more of a halfway home for families with young kids--and in the circumstances, by families we mean older and younger siblings. Grandmothers and grandchildren. Single parents and babies.
One of the best parts of this particular refuge is the music. The local musician community has reached out, and there's the most wonderful musical exchange happening now. Local folks are learning new tunes, the kids are getting free music lessons/music therapy, the grownups are getting instruments to replace those they had to leave behind...
It's not home. It's too wet, the hills and trees are weird, the sun just never comes out...It doesn't make up for any number of hardships, some too terrible to bear. There are still nightmares and a foreign language to deal with and bureaucracy and the occasional nasty neighbor.
But it is a beginning. And there is laughter. Little did we know, all this time when he had no English and not much Spanish, Generico does have just a little Arabic--he's not fluent! Not in anything! But he has the same few words in Arabic that he has in English and Spanish. Enough to make the children laugh and to comfort the older folks.
Enough.
He chases the goats and the chickens with the children and he looks very serious when the adults try to teach him to play guitar or fiddle--he never learns, but it's okay. He knows it means thank you, and they know his attempts mean you're welcome.
When the goats and chickens are up for the night, there's a bonfire in the field. Stories get told around it--stories in Arabic, in English, Scots, once or twice in Gaelic. True stories, some that happened to the people there and some that didn't. It is the kind of place to make one believe in hope, and so even when the stories are hard and full of pain and betrayal, the children look to the masked man and know that pain and sorrow can be lived through, and that better days can come again.
Thanks, Wrestling. I love you.
Autumn
Friday, June 1, 2018
Not Getting Heat, But Getting Paid
Dear Sami,
How long did I last that time? Almost a week? Yeah, I suck.
Transcript of Simon Grimm from the Tight and Fights podcast:
"Also, I'm just going to take a minute to say this even though it's completely unrelated to anything: How awful was that segment on Monday with [hosts groan in agony]...[clip of Sami's Incomprehensible Choices segment]
"I'm not letting that one go, because I wanted to talk about it. Let me just...So...one of the big issues that happens in wrestling is, we're trying to get heat. This goes back to what I was saying about a lot of the archaic ideologies that we have in wrestling still. We want to get heat, we want you to boo our bad guys and we want you to cheer our good guys. We want you to get heat if you're a heel. Okay, the first problem with that segment is, it was intended to be funny. You're supposed to not like Sami Zayn for doing that, so right off the bat, it's a failure, because you're presenting it as comedy. Secondly, if your goal is to make people boo Sami, how is him marching out clearly three men in drag and claiming they're Bobby Lashley's sisters going--like, this isn't 1983!"
"You know a lot of people use the phrase killing the business nowadays? Um, you know, Kenny Omega kills the business because he wrestled a blowup doll in Japan, or the Young Bucks kill the business because they throw 30 super kicks. You know what kills the business? Kamala."
"Kamala kills the business because as recently as the mid 90's, we had a black man on national television dressed up as a faux African 'savage' hailing from the 'dark continent'. That is something that when you are not a wrestling fan, and you see, you go, "Wow, this is every horrible thing I ever heard about. This is lowbrow, unintelligent, garbage entertainment for the stupidest of the stupid, racist, homophobic, whatever, redneck guys. Those are the only people that watch this. When you do something like the Bobby Lashley sisters so to speak, you're not getting Sami Zayn any heat, 'cause even then the audience is aware that this is a creative decision. The audience doesn't think Sami Zayn came up with this." .
[Mike:] "It doesn't even line up with his character they've presented on screen."
[Danielle, fiercely:] "Not even a little!"
*************************
So what should we think? There are two option I can see: you were always faking being a good person, as a way to get...fans? Social credit? Women, maybe? Who knows? Given Big Larry, it's definitely a possibility.
Or, there was always a price tag attached to us. X amount of dollars, fans/reputation/previous 16 years worth of work happily thrown under the bus.
If working there is worth this because hearts are idiots and love what they love, please--I get that. My heart is definitely being a real dickbag right now--apathy toward you would be infinitely less painful.
Are we not people, though, that we deserve some tiny explanation of why you'd suddenly treat us this way? Your life is yours, I'd never want you to tell us everything. I'm not even asking all 280 characters on twitter: "Yep, money." "It's my job." "I can't disappoint my family." "I take almost all the cash and send it to save lives."
There are any number of reasons that would get me wholeheartedly on board.
In my philosophy classes, one of the refrains was, "Stick to the text." There were always a few to several kids who'd read Nietzsche, or more Plato, or whatever, and they wanted to bring that in to prove whatever point. But that's not playing fair, to the other students who haven't read that, or to the text itself--after all, how many theses are written about the 'contradictions' and changes in Plato alone?
So we stick to the text. We only go by what we can see and prove here. The text here, that is causing me so much pain, is:
Sami Zayn performed a racist and transphobic segment.
The guy he is at home agreed to do this.
There was a massive outcry, from all kinds of fans, including trans ones like me.
We have received no word from the guy at home.
We have received word from Sami Zayn that he doesn't give a shit about the harm he may have done.
We know he is paid more in a year to do this than I will be paid in any ten years of my life, and that he wasn't before he worked for this company--and that Big Larry aside, he never didn't anything close to this, then.
So, Sami, if you or that other guy would like to add something to the text, that would be terribly decent of you.
Thanking the Tao I'm a poor freak who'll never have the opportunity to fail people like this,
Autumn
How long did I last that time? Almost a week? Yeah, I suck.
Transcript of Simon Grimm from the Tight and Fights podcast:
"Also, I'm just going to take a minute to say this even though it's completely unrelated to anything: How awful was that segment on Monday with [hosts groan in agony]...[clip of Sami's Incomprehensible Choices segment]
"I'm not letting that one go, because I wanted to talk about it. Let me just...So...one of the big issues that happens in wrestling is, we're trying to get heat. This goes back to what I was saying about a lot of the archaic ideologies that we have in wrestling still. We want to get heat, we want you to boo our bad guys and we want you to cheer our good guys. We want you to get heat if you're a heel. Okay, the first problem with that segment is, it was intended to be funny. You're supposed to not like Sami Zayn for doing that, so right off the bat, it's a failure, because you're presenting it as comedy. Secondly, if your goal is to make people boo Sami, how is him marching out clearly three men in drag and claiming they're Bobby Lashley's sisters going--like, this isn't 1983!"
"You know a lot of people use the phrase killing the business nowadays? Um, you know, Kenny Omega kills the business because he wrestled a blowup doll in Japan, or the Young Bucks kill the business because they throw 30 super kicks. You know what kills the business? Kamala."
"Kamala kills the business because as recently as the mid 90's, we had a black man on national television dressed up as a faux African 'savage' hailing from the 'dark continent'. That is something that when you are not a wrestling fan, and you see, you go, "Wow, this is every horrible thing I ever heard about. This is lowbrow, unintelligent, garbage entertainment for the stupidest of the stupid, racist, homophobic, whatever, redneck guys. Those are the only people that watch this. When you do something like the Bobby Lashley sisters so to speak, you're not getting Sami Zayn any heat, 'cause even then the audience is aware that this is a creative decision. The audience doesn't think Sami Zayn came up with this." .
[Mike:] "It doesn't even line up with his character they've presented on screen."
[Danielle, fiercely:] "Not even a little!"
*************************
So what should we think? There are two option I can see: you were always faking being a good person, as a way to get...fans? Social credit? Women, maybe? Who knows? Given Big Larry, it's definitely a possibility.
Or, there was always a price tag attached to us. X amount of dollars, fans/reputation/previous 16 years worth of work happily thrown under the bus.
If working there is worth this because hearts are idiots and love what they love, please--I get that. My heart is definitely being a real dickbag right now--apathy toward you would be infinitely less painful.
Are we not people, though, that we deserve some tiny explanation of why you'd suddenly treat us this way? Your life is yours, I'd never want you to tell us everything. I'm not even asking all 280 characters on twitter: "Yep, money." "It's my job." "I can't disappoint my family." "I take almost all the cash and send it to save lives."
There are any number of reasons that would get me wholeheartedly on board.
In my philosophy classes, one of the refrains was, "Stick to the text." There were always a few to several kids who'd read Nietzsche, or more Plato, or whatever, and they wanted to bring that in to prove whatever point. But that's not playing fair, to the other students who haven't read that, or to the text itself--after all, how many theses are written about the 'contradictions' and changes in Plato alone?
So we stick to the text. We only go by what we can see and prove here. The text here, that is causing me so much pain, is:
Sami Zayn performed a racist and transphobic segment.
The guy he is at home agreed to do this.
There was a massive outcry, from all kinds of fans, including trans ones like me.
We have received no word from the guy at home.
We have received word from Sami Zayn that he doesn't give a shit about the harm he may have done.
We know he is paid more in a year to do this than I will be paid in any ten years of my life, and that he wasn't before he worked for this company--and that Big Larry aside, he never didn't anything close to this, then.
So, Sami, if you or that other guy would like to add something to the text, that would be terribly decent of you.
Thanking the Tao I'm a poor freak who'll never have the opportunity to fail people like this,
Autumn
Sunday, May 27, 2018
Principles or Nah
Point B
Dear Sami,
The last letter I wrote you, I hung around outside arenas for around twelve hours, because I wanted to hand it to you in person. There was a lot of emotion in that letter for me, and I wanted that personal touch.
That letters follows, so that this journey can be seen in its entirety.
This time, though, I’m writing to let you know that you kinda broke my heart.
I’m a trans nonbinary person. I grew up in North Carolina and wasn’t able to even admit it to myself until my 30s. So when I saw your segment with Bobby Lashly’s sisters on Raw, it was crushing. I couldn’t even finish watching it live.
You’re even more private than most people who work for that company, and so while I have been a massive fan, and donated to SAMS every payday, etc., I don’t really know anything about you. You seemed pretty liberal. You like punk music.
I made assumptions, and that was a mistake. I assumed you were on my side in the fight against those who would dehumanize me and lie about me. I assumed you had my back, because you’ve said supportive things about Laura Jane Grace.
So even if you were bothered about that segment, I’ll never know. I’ll never know what justification was used, by you or them--”Oh don’t worry, Sami will get his comeuppance!” or simply, “You like getting paid, right?”
All I know, all I am allowed to know, is that you performed this. Maybe you’re just incredibly ignorant of the ways black men have been played for laughs in history, maybe you’re somehow unaware of the bathroom bill and (in spite of the fact that it has literally never, ever happened) the assertion that men in dresses will trick and assault people…
Does that possibly sound familiar, Mr. Zayn? No, you know what, Mr. Sebei, because let’s be real with each other. You chose, submitted, whatever, to contribute to propaganda that directly affects my life, so I think I’ll feel free to use that name this once.
My friends and I have been trying to comfort each other. One person, who has written many excellent essays about your history and who deserves so much better, can’t even directly speak about it. You have earned the love of some of the kindest, most devoted, intelligent fans I’ve ever seen in my life, and you have shaken that love to its core. And in spite of that, so many of them assure me that I should give you another chance.
That we can’t know what affects a choice like that.
That you’re just a human and humans are a mess.
That the fact that this directly supports the assertions of this administration shouldn’t be held against you.
Sure. Okay. I can accept that, and I can accept that I’ll never know more than what I saw on TV.
I have a very, very hard time with the idea that you may be living your life unaware of what you’ve done to people who love you. Forget me, I mean people who *love* you, who do art for you, and research, and writing--I’m far more concerned for them than me. I can take it, I just don't want to.
WWE will never admit that it’s done harm, and they’ll never let you either. You certainly didn’t mean to, but you gave me the gift of music back in my life.
So this is me returning the favor: please accept this gift of the full and certain knowledge that you have hurt the minority with the highest risk of suicide in the US. You have hurt people who have devoted dozens of hours to promoting you and loving you and getting others to love you, too.
Oh, Sami. I am so unbearably disappointed in you. It was bad enough when you called Daniel Bryan a housewife as if it were an insult--at least then you went on Talk is Jericho and walked it back a little. Even if you did that this time, I wouldn’t believe you. I’d just be waiting for the next time you throw your fans under the bus.
Maybe I'm wrong, and this isn't part of the propaganda that precedes the horror. Wouldn't that be nice? I've read On Tyranny too, though. Perhaps you should read it again.
I really, foolishly, hope there's a happy ending for us here,
Autumn
Point ADear Rami,
I’m zealous enough about my own to respect your privacy. That said, you’re the one who deserves the thanks for the art, not Sami or Generico.
I’m a new fan. I’ve been watching wrestling for about a year--and I’m a little older than you. I was very wrong about wrestling for a long time. I thought it was rich white people bilking poor white people out of their money and time. Related: my husband and I decided that our family motto should be stultabimus iterum: we will dumb again.
The New Day broke that all down for me, and then I fell in love with wrestling hard. Once I figured out that it was commedia del’arte style theatre with live stunts, I was hooked. I’ve been obsessed with stories my whole life, and I’ve never met a character more joyful or delightful than El Generico. The closest I can think of is Cyrano de Bergerac. The way you move, then and now, makes me gasp, it’s so beautiful. It feels like you have a string tied straight to my heart.
I found wrestling when I badly needed an escape, something to spark my imagination and help me dream again. And it’s given me so much more than I could have hoped for: friends, a community, one of the very happiest days of my life...The New Day broke the door down, but Sami Zayn and El Generico took me by the hand and *showed* me how wonderful wrestling can be--how deep and charming and meaningful. I could never thank you enough. You’ve given me so much joy and heartbreak and more laughter than I had the whole year previous to this one. I’ve watched dozens of hours of PWG, I’ve been to my first wrestling shows, I was taunted (delightfully!) by Colt Cabana--it’s all thanks to you.
I always say that when I find an artist I trust, I’ll follow them down any dark metaphorical alley they want to explore. You are one of those artists. Look, I’m a fat, weird, queer person: there’s always going to be wide swaths of wrestling that want nothing to do with me. But somehow your work makes me feel included and safe. You follow the news: I’m certain you know exactly how rare it is to feel safe in this world.
I can never thank you enough, but I have to try.
PS: I named my (orange) cat La Generica. Ginny for short. She is the best and most affectionate cat I’ve ever seen, so I think she’s well-named.
Dear Sami,
The last letter I wrote you, I hung around outside arenas for around twelve hours, because I wanted to hand it to you in person. There was a lot of emotion in that letter for me, and I wanted that personal touch.
That letters follows, so that this journey can be seen in its entirety.
This time, though, I’m writing to let you know that you kinda broke my heart.
I’m a trans nonbinary person. I grew up in North Carolina and wasn’t able to even admit it to myself until my 30s. So when I saw your segment with Bobby Lashly’s sisters on Raw, it was crushing. I couldn’t even finish watching it live.
You’re even more private than most people who work for that company, and so while I have been a massive fan, and donated to SAMS every payday, etc., I don’t really know anything about you. You seemed pretty liberal. You like punk music.
I made assumptions, and that was a mistake. I assumed you were on my side in the fight against those who would dehumanize me and lie about me. I assumed you had my back, because you’ve said supportive things about Laura Jane Grace.
So even if you were bothered about that segment, I’ll never know. I’ll never know what justification was used, by you or them--”Oh don’t worry, Sami will get his comeuppance!” or simply, “You like getting paid, right?”
All I know, all I am allowed to know, is that you performed this. Maybe you’re just incredibly ignorant of the ways black men have been played for laughs in history, maybe you’re somehow unaware of the bathroom bill and (in spite of the fact that it has literally never, ever happened) the assertion that men in dresses will trick and assault people…
Does that possibly sound familiar, Mr. Zayn? No, you know what, Mr. Sebei, because let’s be real with each other. You chose, submitted, whatever, to contribute to propaganda that directly affects my life, so I think I’ll feel free to use that name this once.
My friends and I have been trying to comfort each other. One person, who has written many excellent essays about your history and who deserves so much better, can’t even directly speak about it. You have earned the love of some of the kindest, most devoted, intelligent fans I’ve ever seen in my life, and you have shaken that love to its core. And in spite of that, so many of them assure me that I should give you another chance.
That we can’t know what affects a choice like that.
That you’re just a human and humans are a mess.
That the fact that this directly supports the assertions of this administration shouldn’t be held against you.
Sure. Okay. I can accept that, and I can accept that I’ll never know more than what I saw on TV.
I have a very, very hard time with the idea that you may be living your life unaware of what you’ve done to people who love you. Forget me, I mean people who *love* you, who do art for you, and research, and writing--I’m far more concerned for them than me. I can take it, I just don't want to.
WWE will never admit that it’s done harm, and they’ll never let you either. You certainly didn’t mean to, but you gave me the gift of music back in my life.
So this is me returning the favor: please accept this gift of the full and certain knowledge that you have hurt the minority with the highest risk of suicide in the US. You have hurt people who have devoted dozens of hours to promoting you and loving you and getting others to love you, too.
Oh, Sami. I am so unbearably disappointed in you. It was bad enough when you called Daniel Bryan a housewife as if it were an insult--at least then you went on Talk is Jericho and walked it back a little. Even if you did that this time, I wouldn’t believe you. I’d just be waiting for the next time you throw your fans under the bus.
Maybe I'm wrong, and this isn't part of the propaganda that precedes the horror. Wouldn't that be nice? I've read On Tyranny too, though. Perhaps you should read it again.
I really, foolishly, hope there's a happy ending for us here,
Autumn
Point ADear Rami,
I’m zealous enough about my own to respect your privacy. That said, you’re the one who deserves the thanks for the art, not Sami or Generico.
I’m a new fan. I’ve been watching wrestling for about a year--and I’m a little older than you. I was very wrong about wrestling for a long time. I thought it was rich white people bilking poor white people out of their money and time. Related: my husband and I decided that our family motto should be stultabimus iterum: we will dumb again.
The New Day broke that all down for me, and then I fell in love with wrestling hard. Once I figured out that it was commedia del’arte style theatre with live stunts, I was hooked. I’ve been obsessed with stories my whole life, and I’ve never met a character more joyful or delightful than El Generico. The closest I can think of is Cyrano de Bergerac. The way you move, then and now, makes me gasp, it’s so beautiful. It feels like you have a string tied straight to my heart.
I found wrestling when I badly needed an escape, something to spark my imagination and help me dream again. And it’s given me so much more than I could have hoped for: friends, a community, one of the very happiest days of my life...The New Day broke the door down, but Sami Zayn and El Generico took me by the hand and *showed* me how wonderful wrestling can be--how deep and charming and meaningful. I could never thank you enough. You’ve given me so much joy and heartbreak and more laughter than I had the whole year previous to this one. I’ve watched dozens of hours of PWG, I’ve been to my first wrestling shows, I was taunted (delightfully!) by Colt Cabana--it’s all thanks to you.
I always say that when I find an artist I trust, I’ll follow them down any dark metaphorical alley they want to explore. You are one of those artists. Look, I’m a fat, weird, queer person: there’s always going to be wide swaths of wrestling that want nothing to do with me. But somehow your work makes me feel included and safe. You follow the news: I’m certain you know exactly how rare it is to feel safe in this world.
I can never thank you enough, but I have to try.
PS: I named my (orange) cat La Generica. Ginny for short. She is the best and most affectionate cat I’ve ever seen, so I think she’s well-named.
Specificities
Dear Wrestling in general, Sami in particular,
A lot of my friends are trying to convince me that anything like a good reason to do that segment exists. And I can think of some, sure--you secretly have a child that they're holding hostage for instance. Unlikely, but I could accept that as a compelling reason.
Ignorance comes up a lot--yours, the writers, whoever.
So. Let's get specific, shall we? I wouldn't want you to make the same mistake simply because no one did your homework for you, after all.
WAYS THAT SEGMENT NOT ONLY SUCKED BUT WAS ACTUALLY HARMFUL
1. Trans women get killed and harassed all the time.
2. Black women are often portrayed as more muscular, more animalistic, than white women, which also contributes to attacks on them.
3. Black women are also often incorrectly medicated and treated, on the assumption that they're 'tougher'.
4. There is a common lie that trans women are not women, they are men dressing as women in order to assault cis women and girls. This has literally never, ever happened.
5. The normal moral physics of wrestling would dictate that an asshole who contributed to these things (you) would get his ass kicked by a righteous face, because he acted like a hateful jerk. This did not happen, leaving it unsaid that the 'joke' itself was just fine.
6. There are trans women in this world, women like your friend (?) Laura Jane Grace, who have to contend with the idea that they aren't women, because of 'jokes' like this segment.
7. There are probably other issues here--my husband detects hints of the dehumanization of black families found in minstrelsy--but I don't feel at all qualified to discuss those. I refer you to your many fans of color for that.
You are a Muslim man working in a traditionally racist, recently conservative, industry. I do not want to be unkind or unfair. That in mind, I would come at a dear friend who'd done this in much the same way. Not publically, of course, but the circumstances leave no other options.
A lot of my friends are trying to convince me that anything like a good reason to do that segment exists. And I can think of some, sure--you secretly have a child that they're holding hostage for instance. Unlikely, but I could accept that as a compelling reason.
Ignorance comes up a lot--yours, the writers, whoever.
So. Let's get specific, shall we? I wouldn't want you to make the same mistake simply because no one did your homework for you, after all.
WAYS THAT SEGMENT NOT ONLY SUCKED BUT WAS ACTUALLY HARMFUL
1. Trans women get killed and harassed all the time.
2. Black women are often portrayed as more muscular, more animalistic, than white women, which also contributes to attacks on them.
3. Black women are also often incorrectly medicated and treated, on the assumption that they're 'tougher'.
4. There is a common lie that trans women are not women, they are men dressing as women in order to assault cis women and girls. This has literally never, ever happened.
5. The normal moral physics of wrestling would dictate that an asshole who contributed to these things (you) would get his ass kicked by a righteous face, because he acted like a hateful jerk. This did not happen, leaving it unsaid that the 'joke' itself was just fine.
6. There are trans women in this world, women like your friend (?) Laura Jane Grace, who have to contend with the idea that they aren't women, because of 'jokes' like this segment.
7. There are probably other issues here--my husband detects hints of the dehumanization of black families found in minstrelsy--but I don't feel at all qualified to discuss those. I refer you to your many fans of color for that.
You are a Muslim man working in a traditionally racist, recently conservative, industry. I do not want to be unkind or unfair. That in mind, I would come at a dear friend who'd done this in much the same way. Not publically, of course, but the circumstances leave no other options.
Saturday, May 26, 2018
On the Varied Use of Kisses
Dear Wrestling,
I've been meaning to tell you about this all week, because it's honestly the exact antidote/opposite to that bullshit on RAW. And bless his heart, Jake Manning wins me over more every time I see him. It doesn't hurt that he compliments my tee shirts...
So I'm missing parts of this story--specifically, the history between White Mike and Effy. Where I came into it was at PWX's rumble a month or two ago: they were both in the ring, and Effy started arguing with Mike, who seemed to be apologizing. He ended up kissing Effy, shouting, "That's right, I'm about that life!", who then slapped the hell out of him.
Mike, of course, had been teaming with Jake: accidents happened, Mike said sorry (HE SAID SORRY we chanted, so much), but Jake decided that he needed to teach Mike a lesson. We the crowd disagreed with this premise, and so Jake has decided that all fun at PWX needs to be destroyed, so next target, Effy.
(NB: If I knew which matches, or even just which promotions, to hunt down the rest of the story, I happily would--I certainly enjoy what I've seen) (Also I may well be wrong about any portion of this: if so, I'm very sorry and would love correction)
So this last Sunday, Jake and Effy had an absolutely delightful match. I highly recommend it, and hey, look at me, doing your homework for you! (It starts at 28:15, but also watch the whole show.) (Seriously, it's really really good.)
There's so much I love about this match--I'll be cackling to myself about page 37 for days--but the thing that has been helping this week, the thing that has been my refuge, is that sequence of angry, attacking kisses.
It was so unexpected, for me, from Jake in particular. At the same time, it was a totally logical place for the story to go, from what I know of it. The mix of love and anger and jealousy is perfect for a bit like this.
Obviously it's the contrast with Sami's Incomprehensible Choices on Monday, that's what has raised this moment from excellent to a source of actual comfort. Unsurprisingly, given that a proud gay man was involved, LGBTQ people weren't the punchline of this joke.
Instead, heteronormativity was literally pushed aside, here embodied by Amy Rose, bless her. Maybe even better, for someone who grew up in Charlotte, was the fact that the audience loved it. I jumped to my feet, and I don't think I was the only one.
The acceptance and love I've felt at PWX is genuinely incredible to me. As in, I almost can't believe it. I've written before about how seeing this reaction to Effy, in this area, is so meaningful to me. It means more than I could say in a thousand posts, and it's things like SIC on Monday that keep me needing that validation.
We're not there yet, god knows. I'm not out as trans at work because I live in a state where I could be fired for it with likely no consequences. Remember the Bathroom Bill? Yeah.
But growing up here, I never imagined in my wildest dreams that we'd be where we are by the time I was 40. Marriage equality, soldiers getting to be out, pride celebrations all over the country, me being able to be out, at all, to anyone--including myself, to be honest.
Each time something like this happens at PWX, it reaffirms for me how far we've come, regardless of the road ahead.
Even when one of my favorites is caught pushing a car backwards down that road...
Love you,
Autumn
I've been meaning to tell you about this all week, because it's honestly the exact antidote/opposite to that bullshit on RAW. And bless his heart, Jake Manning wins me over more every time I see him. It doesn't hurt that he compliments my tee shirts...
So I'm missing parts of this story--specifically, the history between White Mike and Effy. Where I came into it was at PWX's rumble a month or two ago: they were both in the ring, and Effy started arguing with Mike, who seemed to be apologizing. He ended up kissing Effy, shouting, "That's right, I'm about that life!", who then slapped the hell out of him.
Mike, of course, had been teaming with Jake: accidents happened, Mike said sorry (HE SAID SORRY we chanted, so much), but Jake decided that he needed to teach Mike a lesson. We the crowd disagreed with this premise, and so Jake has decided that all fun at PWX needs to be destroyed, so next target, Effy.
(NB: If I knew which matches, or even just which promotions, to hunt down the rest of the story, I happily would--I certainly enjoy what I've seen) (Also I may well be wrong about any portion of this: if so, I'm very sorry and would love correction)
So this last Sunday, Jake and Effy had an absolutely delightful match. I highly recommend it, and hey, look at me, doing your homework for you! (It starts at 28:15, but also watch the whole show.) (Seriously, it's really really good.)
There's so much I love about this match--I'll be cackling to myself about page 37 for days--but the thing that has been helping this week, the thing that has been my refuge, is that sequence of angry, attacking kisses.
It was so unexpected, for me, from Jake in particular. At the same time, it was a totally logical place for the story to go, from what I know of it. The mix of love and anger and jealousy is perfect for a bit like this.
Obviously it's the contrast with Sami's Incomprehensible Choices on Monday, that's what has raised this moment from excellent to a source of actual comfort. Unsurprisingly, given that a proud gay man was involved, LGBTQ people weren't the punchline of this joke.
Instead, heteronormativity was literally pushed aside, here embodied by Amy Rose, bless her. Maybe even better, for someone who grew up in Charlotte, was the fact that the audience loved it. I jumped to my feet, and I don't think I was the only one.
The acceptance and love I've felt at PWX is genuinely incredible to me. As in, I almost can't believe it. I've written before about how seeing this reaction to Effy, in this area, is so meaningful to me. It means more than I could say in a thousand posts, and it's things like SIC on Monday that keep me needing that validation.
We're not there yet, god knows. I'm not out as trans at work because I live in a state where I could be fired for it with likely no consequences. Remember the Bathroom Bill? Yeah.
But growing up here, I never imagined in my wildest dreams that we'd be where we are by the time I was 40. Marriage equality, soldiers getting to be out, pride celebrations all over the country, me being able to be out, at all, to anyone--including myself, to be honest.
Each time something like this happens at PWX, it reaffirms for me how far we've come, regardless of the road ahead.
Even when one of my favorites is caught pushing a car backwards down that road...
Love you,
Autumn
Thursday, May 24, 2018
Who Is Wrestling For, Exactly?
Dear Wrestling,
One would hope I'd be done with this by now, but apparently I need to work out my feelings about Sami Zayn.
I've spent so many hours questioning what on earth he was thinking. I can't know. Not only that, but the company he works for seems to be very, very strict about never allowing the performers to express opinions about the work they do. No unions, no healthcare, and no humanity, ultimately--at least as far as being able to say, "Yeah, I wasn't comfortable with that, but did it for these reasons."
What it comes down to, for me, is this: Months ago, when I spent all those hours and hours waiting outside arenas to give him a letter? This was in that letter:
"I always say that when I find an artist I trust, I’ll follow them down any dark metaphorical alley they want to explore. You are one of those artists. Look, I’m a fat, weird, queer person: there’s always going to be wide swaths of wrestling that want nothing to do with me. But somehow your work makes me feel included and safe. You follow the news: I’m certain you know exactly how rare it is to feel safe in this world." I don't feel safe with him and his work anymore. I keep trying to avoid it with anger and activity, but I am devastated. I am heartbroken. Wrestling sells itself as escapism, and that seems to be less and less true all the time. I still love you, Wrestling, but seriously: get your fucking shit together. Autumn
One would hope I'd be done with this by now, but apparently I need to work out my feelings about Sami Zayn.
I've spent so many hours questioning what on earth he was thinking. I can't know. Not only that, but the company he works for seems to be very, very strict about never allowing the performers to express opinions about the work they do. No unions, no healthcare, and no humanity, ultimately--at least as far as being able to say, "Yeah, I wasn't comfortable with that, but did it for these reasons."
What it comes down to, for me, is this: Months ago, when I spent all those hours and hours waiting outside arenas to give him a letter? This was in that letter:
"I always say that when I find an artist I trust, I’ll follow them down any dark metaphorical alley they want to explore. You are one of those artists. Look, I’m a fat, weird, queer person: there’s always going to be wide swaths of wrestling that want nothing to do with me. But somehow your work makes me feel included and safe. You follow the news: I’m certain you know exactly how rare it is to feel safe in this world." I don't feel safe with him and his work anymore. I keep trying to avoid it with anger and activity, but I am devastated. I am heartbroken. Wrestling sells itself as escapism, and that seems to be less and less true all the time. I still love you, Wrestling, but seriously: get your fucking shit together. Autumn
Tuesday, May 22, 2018
Can There Be Love Under Capitalism?
Dear Wrestling,
At one point last night, I got closer to actually starting a fist fight than I've ever been in my adult life. And you know me--I talk endless shit, and back none of it up.
But when a dude yelled, during a Su Yung match, "Your husband hits harder than that"...
Well.
I didn't! I did stand and glare and yell back, "Oh, because violence against women is hilarious!" I was good!
(I couldn't tell which fucker it was for sure)
(I am the very worst pacifist, It Is Known)
I can't wait for the show to go on High Spots because there are several matches I'm eager to see again--a big tag match between the Syndicate and several guys that were new to me, in particular, and which finally convinced that I absolutely need to get to the next Pure show. If I gotta sleep in my car, it won't be the first time.
I do highly recommend the show, but I'm not great at recounting matches at the best of times, and this is certainly not that.
No muffins, I'm afraid tonight your cousin Autumn is going to get a bit rant-y.
So yeah, first of all, at least one guy in the audience thought it was hilarious to joke about domestic violence. You know that scene in the Crow when he gives all of Sarah's pain to the drug dealer? I wish that was a power I had, precisely for moments like this. It's not that I actually want to hit the guy or that I think it would in anyway help: I know it wouldn't.
It's that I want to him to feel as shocked and hurt as I did. I want him to hear a joke about whatever the worst time in his life was, and not once, but hundreds of times, because the culture doesn't give a shit And I want that all in a hypothetical situation because no one should actually have to live like that.
For subject no. 2, we have RAW tonight. Specifically, the remarkably transphobic segment involving Sami Zayn and some dudes in dresses.
I'm nonbinary--that means trans, to be clear. No, let me start elsewhere: I once heard a promo in which Kevin Owens used the word f****t. It was many, many years ago, and Styles was in it too, and probably deserves at least some of the credit.
It hurt so, so bad, to hear my favorite use that word. And I remember being shocked at myself, because before wrestling there was nothing on this green earth that I loved so much that I'd let it disrespect me. Not my mother, not my favorite band or author, *nothing*.
Yet I found myself still a fan. Willing to forgive it, somehow. I did not at all understand this change and I found it terribly alarming. Is this who I am now? And where does it stop? Will I just let any reprehensible bullshit slide now?
Maybe. Apparently.
I'm very angry about the segment, and hurt, but mostly I'm just filled with questions. Not particularly polite ones either, ones I would probably never ask to someone's face, but this post isn't about the hours I spend to archive their ephemera for possibly no good goddamn reason, so I feel pretty certain they won't find this:
1. How could you?
2. Do you understand that this hurts real people? That trans people are the most murdered minority, and the most at risk of suicide?
3. Do you think this is funny? Follow-up, how on earth was I so wrong about you if so?
4. You just not a fucking punk now or what? Dare I use the dreaded S word?
5. You do more humanitarian work than anyone else in that company, so how the hell does that work? You just turn your soul off when you go to work? God knows I have...
6. If you have so little power over the work you do, that you couldn't even object to this pile of moldy putrid disease, how on EARTH is this your dream job?
7. Is it your dream job because you came up in a time when it was the only chance you had of making money?
8. Seriously, just, what the fuck?
9. Is there a more direct insult you'd like to offer your fans? A straightforward 'fuck you', or just more general agreement with the current US administration?
I adore Kevin more than I can say, and Sami has given me so so much.
Is this the point when you start discreetly returning your friend's stuff, so you can cut ties cleanly?
I remember when he said the housewife line to Bryan last fall, and how sick that made so many of us feel. And we excused it, we said, "Oh, he's never really been a heel before, he's just figuring it out, he'll course correct! It'll be fine!" And he went on Talk is Jericho and said basically that, and we all said, phew, we still get to be fans, yay!
So I guess we get a few months at a time now, and then we get to have a big crisis of love again. How many fucking times am I supposed to watch someone treat me and mine like shit before I say ENOUGH?
I am really worried that I know the answer, and that it's very much the answer of a not-that-recovered abuse survivor.
Do fucking better, you piece of shit. I goddamn love you, gods help me.
Autumn
At one point last night, I got closer to actually starting a fist fight than I've ever been in my adult life. And you know me--I talk endless shit, and back none of it up.
But when a dude yelled, during a Su Yung match, "Your husband hits harder than that"...
Well.
I didn't! I did stand and glare and yell back, "Oh, because violence against women is hilarious!" I was good!
(I couldn't tell which fucker it was for sure)
(I am the very worst pacifist, It Is Known)
I can't wait for the show to go on High Spots because there are several matches I'm eager to see again--a big tag match between the Syndicate and several guys that were new to me, in particular, and which finally convinced that I absolutely need to get to the next Pure show. If I gotta sleep in my car, it won't be the first time.
I do highly recommend the show, but I'm not great at recounting matches at the best of times, and this is certainly not that.
No muffins, I'm afraid tonight your cousin Autumn is going to get a bit rant-y.
So yeah, first of all, at least one guy in the audience thought it was hilarious to joke about domestic violence. You know that scene in the Crow when he gives all of Sarah's pain to the drug dealer? I wish that was a power I had, precisely for moments like this. It's not that I actually want to hit the guy or that I think it would in anyway help: I know it wouldn't.
It's that I want to him to feel as shocked and hurt as I did. I want him to hear a joke about whatever the worst time in his life was, and not once, but hundreds of times, because the culture doesn't give a shit And I want that all in a hypothetical situation because no one should actually have to live like that.
For subject no. 2, we have RAW tonight. Specifically, the remarkably transphobic segment involving Sami Zayn and some dudes in dresses.
I'm nonbinary--that means trans, to be clear. No, let me start elsewhere: I once heard a promo in which Kevin Owens used the word f****t. It was many, many years ago, and Styles was in it too, and probably deserves at least some of the credit.
It hurt so, so bad, to hear my favorite use that word. And I remember being shocked at myself, because before wrestling there was nothing on this green earth that I loved so much that I'd let it disrespect me. Not my mother, not my favorite band or author, *nothing*.
Yet I found myself still a fan. Willing to forgive it, somehow. I did not at all understand this change and I found it terribly alarming. Is this who I am now? And where does it stop? Will I just let any reprehensible bullshit slide now?
Maybe. Apparently.
I'm very angry about the segment, and hurt, but mostly I'm just filled with questions. Not particularly polite ones either, ones I would probably never ask to someone's face, but this post isn't about the hours I spend to archive their ephemera for possibly no good goddamn reason, so I feel pretty certain they won't find this:
1. How could you?
2. Do you understand that this hurts real people? That trans people are the most murdered minority, and the most at risk of suicide?
3. Do you think this is funny? Follow-up, how on earth was I so wrong about you if so?
4. You just not a fucking punk now or what? Dare I use the dreaded S word?
5. You do more humanitarian work than anyone else in that company, so how the hell does that work? You just turn your soul off when you go to work? God knows I have...
6. If you have so little power over the work you do, that you couldn't even object to this pile of moldy putrid disease, how on EARTH is this your dream job?
7. Is it your dream job because you came up in a time when it was the only chance you had of making money?
8. Seriously, just, what the fuck?
9. Is there a more direct insult you'd like to offer your fans? A straightforward 'fuck you', or just more general agreement with the current US administration?
I adore Kevin more than I can say, and Sami has given me so so much.
Is this the point when you start discreetly returning your friend's stuff, so you can cut ties cleanly?
I remember when he said the housewife line to Bryan last fall, and how sick that made so many of us feel. And we excused it, we said, "Oh, he's never really been a heel before, he's just figuring it out, he'll course correct! It'll be fine!" And he went on Talk is Jericho and said basically that, and we all said, phew, we still get to be fans, yay!
So I guess we get a few months at a time now, and then we get to have a big crisis of love again. How many fucking times am I supposed to watch someone treat me and mine like shit before I say ENOUGH?
I am really worried that I know the answer, and that it's very much the answer of a not-that-recovered abuse survivor.
Do fucking better, you piece of shit. I goddamn love you, gods help me.
Autumn
Friday, May 18, 2018
A Letter of Protest
Dear Wrestling Universe,
I hope this letter finds you well. I regret that the circumstances of my correspondence are not more pleasant. Sadly, it seems that upon my visit to the Orlando, FL area this summer, there will not be any NXT shows that I may take in.
I must object to this situation in the strongest possible terms. While my family may have other objectives in visiting the area (spending time with family, visiting parks, being in the sun and water), these are not nearly enough to tempt me.
No, for me it was wrestling or bust, and now apparently bust it is.
To this point I had been well pleased with your service--there have been hiccups, sometimes major ones, but there has also been Paris and sea stacks, meeting Sami Zayn and eating fresh blackberries next to redwoods...overall a success!
If I were visiting some place other than Florida, perhaps this would be easier to bear. However, Florida is a mess of sunlight and heat and humidity, and I burn in the shade.
There are, of course, other wrestling federations in Florida, and I have hopes that you may mollify my mood by a show elsewhere.
You know your duty. (It's to keep hot and cold wrestling coming, at all times.)
Regards,
Autumn
I hope this letter finds you well. I regret that the circumstances of my correspondence are not more pleasant. Sadly, it seems that upon my visit to the Orlando, FL area this summer, there will not be any NXT shows that I may take in.
I must object to this situation in the strongest possible terms. While my family may have other objectives in visiting the area (spending time with family, visiting parks, being in the sun and water), these are not nearly enough to tempt me.
No, for me it was wrestling or bust, and now apparently bust it is.
To this point I had been well pleased with your service--there have been hiccups, sometimes major ones, but there has also been Paris and sea stacks, meeting Sami Zayn and eating fresh blackberries next to redwoods...overall a success!
If I were visiting some place other than Florida, perhaps this would be easier to bear. However, Florida is a mess of sunlight and heat and humidity, and I burn in the shade.
There are, of course, other wrestling federations in Florida, and I have hopes that you may mollify my mood by a show elsewhere.
You know your duty. (It's to keep hot and cold wrestling coming, at all times.)
Regards,
Autumn
Wednesday, May 16, 2018
On the Repudiation of Coolness*
Dear Wrestling,
So I'm watching Gentleman and a Scholar on High Spots, and I'm not quite two hours in. Excalibur and Jimmy Havoc are drunk, Dan Barry apparently hasn't been drinking but like me, can meet that looseness and goofiness without needing to.
Jimmy is trying, bless him, to say thank you to Excalibur for his part in inspiring not just Jimmy, but many indie wrestlers especially in England. Excalibur, bless *him*, is (also like me) just barely a Gen-Xer, and not having it. He downplays his moveset, his ability, his impact...
The question shifts to "Well, what do you think your legacy will be?"--and tellingly, even he can't deny that he's a great talker. Dan says of his commentary, "I think you on commentary has been your shining light, in that you appreciate pro wrestling, so when you're commentating on it, you're not doing things to get, like, the point across. You are literally calling it as you see it, and your appreciation for what exists in front of you is astronomical, and I love that."
I've been (officially) a wrestling fan for 1 year and 7 months. At every step along the way, as I've gone deeper and deeper--from "Oh, the New Day are *cool*! But I hate Kevin Owens.." to "God, I hate that I like KO, and I love Sami and I keep hearing about this history..." to "Holy shit, PWG is the Platonic ideal of wrestling" and so on, each time there's been a guide. A psychopomp, to guide me further into the underworld.
One of the first was @MithGifs and I only don't thank her profusely every single day because I'm certain it would make her uncomfortable.
Excalibur was another.
In coming to wrestling, for me it's often been a matter of finding my place in it. Not changing myself to fit, but seeing what of me can be found here, and in the people here. Sometimes there's almost nothing for me, but sometimes someone shares my priorities and values in unexpected and amazing ways: that's Excalibur. And I don't mean his pedantry, although of course I relate to and appreciate that.
No, it's that he's not cool. Wildly uncool. He's excited and present and bringing all of himself to the table. Coolness is distance, it's death and a smirk and exclusion. Coolness divides.
Excalibur unites. He, through his commentary, wants us all to see how amazing that was, and how much history there is between these two wrestlers, and how that move references such-and-such.
He wants us all to be there in the room, to whatever degree possible, to experience it with him and with each other.
I can honestly say that Excalibur was pivotal in my becoming a wrestling fan. Finding that it's not all tans and body guys and being gatekept, but that as long as you love it, you're *in*. Love is the price for the ticket, it's the seating and the people next to you, it's the guys in the ring. It's everything.
And I know people like him, and he'll hem and haw and say it wasn't him, he was part of a wave, on and on--he's wrong though. And that's ok.
Acknowledging and accepting that he Did the Thing might be more than he can manage: fair enough. The thing is, he isn't writing the history and stories of this era of wrestling.
We are.
His reputation doesn't depend on whether or not he thinks he deserves it.
Those of us who are grateful to him, we'll have our say.
Thanks,
Autumn
*I'm the worst at titles. I decided to ape Hume, I don't know why. Bored, probably.
So I'm watching Gentleman and a Scholar on High Spots, and I'm not quite two hours in. Excalibur and Jimmy Havoc are drunk, Dan Barry apparently hasn't been drinking but like me, can meet that looseness and goofiness without needing to.
Jimmy is trying, bless him, to say thank you to Excalibur for his part in inspiring not just Jimmy, but many indie wrestlers especially in England. Excalibur, bless *him*, is (also like me) just barely a Gen-Xer, and not having it. He downplays his moveset, his ability, his impact...
The question shifts to "Well, what do you think your legacy will be?"--and tellingly, even he can't deny that he's a great talker. Dan says of his commentary, "I think you on commentary has been your shining light, in that you appreciate pro wrestling, so when you're commentating on it, you're not doing things to get, like, the point across. You are literally calling it as you see it, and your appreciation for what exists in front of you is astronomical, and I love that."
I've been (officially) a wrestling fan for 1 year and 7 months. At every step along the way, as I've gone deeper and deeper--from "Oh, the New Day are *cool*! But I hate Kevin Owens.." to "God, I hate that I like KO, and I love Sami and I keep hearing about this history..." to "Holy shit, PWG is the Platonic ideal of wrestling" and so on, each time there's been a guide. A psychopomp, to guide me further into the underworld.
One of the first was @MithGifs and I only don't thank her profusely every single day because I'm certain it would make her uncomfortable.
Excalibur was another.
In coming to wrestling, for me it's often been a matter of finding my place in it. Not changing myself to fit, but seeing what of me can be found here, and in the people here. Sometimes there's almost nothing for me, but sometimes someone shares my priorities and values in unexpected and amazing ways: that's Excalibur. And I don't mean his pedantry, although of course I relate to and appreciate that.
No, it's that he's not cool. Wildly uncool. He's excited and present and bringing all of himself to the table. Coolness is distance, it's death and a smirk and exclusion. Coolness divides.
Excalibur unites. He, through his commentary, wants us all to see how amazing that was, and how much history there is between these two wrestlers, and how that move references such-and-such.
He wants us all to be there in the room, to whatever degree possible, to experience it with him and with each other.
I can honestly say that Excalibur was pivotal in my becoming a wrestling fan. Finding that it's not all tans and body guys and being gatekept, but that as long as you love it, you're *in*. Love is the price for the ticket, it's the seating and the people next to you, it's the guys in the ring. It's everything.
And I know people like him, and he'll hem and haw and say it wasn't him, he was part of a wave, on and on--he's wrong though. And that's ok.
Acknowledging and accepting that he Did the Thing might be more than he can manage: fair enough. The thing is, he isn't writing the history and stories of this era of wrestling.
We are.
His reputation doesn't depend on whether or not he thinks he deserves it.
Those of us who are grateful to him, we'll have our say.
Thanks,
Autumn
*I'm the worst at titles. I decided to ape Hume, I don't know why. Bored, probably.
Sunday, May 13, 2018
Kevin's Columns
Dear Wrestling,
In my digging around for the other letters from the feud with Generico, I managed to dig up something I didn't even know existed: columns Kevin wrote for his website back around 2011--or at least, that's when the Internet Wayback Machine snagged them.
Finding stuff like this, maybe it's not the only thing I can give to the wrestling community, but it's probably the best thing. I can't draw or paint, I haven't nearly got my 10,000 hours in writing yet. I can't even recognize faces, so match reviews are right out.
I'm pretty good at research, though.
A gentle warning before you proceed: two of these columns are about wrestlers who passed away. One took his own life, although this isn't mentioned--if you look him up, like I did, it's there. Trust your gut, folks.
(As with Kevin's Letters 2, these were pulled from the ruins of steenwrestling.com)
****************************************************************
Tough
In my line of work I have met countless guys who I would describe as tough. Actually, every wrestler is tough, no doubt. But there's tough, and then there's really tough. Like the Briscoes, Austin Aries, Bryan Danielson, Super Dragon and so many others. Then there's the tough motherfuckers like Nigel McGuiness, Steve Corino and Eddie Edwards.
I'm not really sure which of those two categories I'm a part of. I've never been knocked out in my entire life even though I have never put my hands up to try and block any shot, kick or weapon thrown at my head or face in the last ten years. I've been wrestling with a torn up knee for about 3 years. I guess that could make me a tough motherfucker...but then again, who hasn't wrestled hurt. Eddie Edwards for instance, became an instant hero in any ROH fan's heart when he hid the cast on his arm from the New York State Athletic Commission all night so that he could be part of the Ladder War II. Everyone knows that by now. Steve Corino has been wrestling for months with a fractured elbow, partly torn tricep and a vicious infection in that same arm. Nobody would know it from looking at him work, though.
The other day I was at my doctor's office, in the waiting room and I was watching some MMA on my iPod touch. They were talking about how tough this one particular fighter was and I then saw him get knocked out in 22 seconds right after the announcers were praising his ''great chin.'' It got me thinking about what makes someone tough. What makes someone really tough. And what makes someone a tough motherfucker. As I was leaning towards officially putting my name in the third column, thinking with pride about how many superkicks I could take before finally being put down, and elderly man came into the waiting room. He must have been at least 80 years old. He was bent over, putting as much of his weight as he could onto the walker he was using to get around. The 12 feet between the door and the secretary's office must have taken him a good 2 minutes to complete. When he got up to the office I watched him struggle to get his wallet out and get his Medicare card. I watched as he politely asked the secretary for an appointment. When she said there's no way the doctor would be able to see him that day, he said that was fine, any other day would work. She told him to hang on, she'd be back with him in a minute.
The minute turned to 5 and I offered him my seat, which he declined. I sat back down and kept watching him as 5 minutes turned to 10, and then 15. This entire time, he continued to decline the seats people were offering him, struggling to balance his body weight on his walker, never once asking the secretary what was taking so long, never once looking annoyed. The secretary finally told him she was too busy to give him an appointment right now and he'd have to wait another little while. He replied that he had another appointment in 10 minutes in another building, so she said he'd have to come back later. This would have infuriated me and I'm a relatively healthy 26 year old man.
All she had to do was look in her stupid little book but she told him to come back later. And you know what? The old man looked at her, said no problem, he'd be back later and then thanked her with a nice smile. He put his hat back on, grabbed his walker and made his way back to the door. As he slowly passed me, I saw him look up at me, nod and wink. Now unless he was hitting on me, I'm pretty sure that this man I saw struggle to simply walk a mere 12 feet, wait for close to a half hour standing while struggling to keep his balance with his walker, and who had just gotten turned around and told to come back later by a horrible secretary who was too busy to open a book, was in a good mood. Just another day for him, no big deal!
The doctor called my name and as I headed to his office it occurred to me why I was there. I have a skin infection that causes a great deal of pain in my right arm. It burns and keeps me up at night. I complain about it all the time. It sometimes makes me miserable for days at a time, just ask my family. Then I remember I was about to put myself in the tough motherfucker column...But the tough motherfucker column is something very exclusive, very hard to get into. It can't get too crowded in that column otherwise the title just isn't as prestigious. So, at that moment I made a decision. I went ahead and put myself in the really tough column, almost as prestigious as the other one.
But in the other column, the really special one...
I put that old tough motherfucker.
**********************************************************
SINCE THE FINAL BATTLE...
The last few months of my career have been very strange, to say the least. I've been feeling quite conflicted about the whole thing. Over the past 2 months, I have gone through more ups and downs than I have in the 10 years I spent in this crazy world before.
December started off great, with a match in NSPW, a promotion in Quebec City, that was not only a blast to be a part of but ended up being voted Match of the Year in Quebec for 2010. It only got better when I made my return to PWG and had a match with Dragon Gate's Akira Tozawa that I can honestly say will forever be one of the highlights of my career. The dude is incredible, the crowd in PWG is, I truly believe, one of the best in the world, always has been, and the fact that I was back in my wrestling home, all those combining factors made this a night I'll always remember.
(The match actually just came out on DVD on the Cyanide: A Loving Tribute to Poison event and I encourage everyone to go out of their way to get this show! Not only does it have the aforementioned match with Tozawa but it also has an opening match featuring the debuting Willie Mack against Peter Avalon that was tons of fun, two crazy tag matches in the Young Bucks vs the Fighting Taylor Boys and the Cutler Bros vs the RockNES Monsters and an excellent main-event tag team championship match with the champions, Paul London and the retarded waste of space masked disease vs the Kings Of Wrestling. Please visit www.prowrestlingguerrilla.com to get this, you won't regret it.
Don't download it illegally because I guarantee you'll regret that when you die and get to hell, which just so happens to be my basement)
Then came my last ROH weekend. The first night was a real treat. I got team with my idol Steve Corino one last time. And it was against my favorite opponents, the Briscoes.
I had a blast in there with all those guys and I'm glad I got to work with all of them one last time in ROH before my departure. The next night should have been a crowning moment, the culmination of something I had worked for all year, put everything I had into. I had been obsessing over that night for over a year. But it didn't end quite the way I thought it would. We did have a great match like I thought we would. The fans were all very into our story, like I thought they would be. But I didn't think the walk back to the locker room after the match would be my last one.
Following Final Battle, I had a couple of interviews to do. One with Alan Counihan for the Dr. Keith radio show that I really enjoyed doing. Alan was a great person to talk to and the hour and half flew by. Most of all, however, everyone who commented on the interview enjoyed it and I'm glad my story entertained them. I had another interview with PowerSlam magazine with a fellow named Fin Martin which was also very enjoyable. A quote from the interview actually came out on various websites last week regarding a claim I made about TNA. I'll probably comment on that whole thing at some point, since I have received quite a few e-mails and text messages about it and people seem a little confused over what I meant to say. Keep an eye (or ear) out for that soon.
Through all of this, I was wondering where do I go from here? Talking about my career at length with these guys made me realize that I had accomplished everything I set out to do, except for winning the ROH World Title. Maybe taking an extended break would be a good idea?
My entire January schedule revolved around shows in Montreal, Quebec City or Ottawa, all less than 2 hours from my home. That means I got to spend time with my son and wife which I don't get to do as much as I wish and man, that's by far the best part of not having such a busy wrestling schedule. The shows themselves went very well.
C*4 Wrestling, the promotion I wrote about in my last column, ran two shows in as many weeks, one in Montreal and one in Ottawa and I can honestly say that after the second one, I could tell myself for the first time in quite a while that I loved wrestling. The stuff I'm doing over there with Jimmy Jacobs and this up-and-comer named Mike Bailey has people going crazy and is just so much fun to be a part of. Both shows should be available on DVD soon and I hope some people decide to check them out.
The end of January saw me fly to California for PWG's show as part of the second Wrestlereunion. This was my first, true big test since Final Battle. A match on a big stage, with a sold-out crowd to witness it live, and a lot of people that would see it on DVD after. And it was against one of the best wrestlers in the world currently, Chris Hero. I always get very nervous when I wrestle Chris, not sure why. But it might have been even worse in this particular case, since it was my first high profile match since my ROH departure. We ended up having a really good match. A lot of people noticed Chris and I had a bit of a talk following the match and have asked me what was said. Well, the exact words will stay between Chris and I but I will say this, I'll always be grateful for those few words and keeping them in mind since then has helped me greatly.
February has been pretty quiet so far but that's not bad considering I'm heading into a tag team tournament with Akira Tozawa as my partner. Suffice to say I'll need all the rest I can get. Actually, last weekend wasn't that quiet, now that I think about it. My turn on fan favorite Pee Wee in Quebec City's NSPW led to the crowd throwing empty bottles, full bottles, chains and one particularly tough guy threw a chair at me. When I caught it and jumped over the guardrail, he promptly ran right out the door. My night wasn't over though. When I turned around to head back to the locker room I was met with a slap to the face by a woman who looked to be about 50 and was absolutely seething with rage. She turned out to be Pee Wee's mother. My advice for her to start saving up for her son's funeral didn't seem to make her feel much better so I decided to tell her the same thing her dear son tells everyone all the time...keep on smiling!
Well, that's about it for what my wrestling career has been like since leaving ROH. For those of you who've asked me what I was up to, well, there you have it.
I'll try to update the website more often but I can't promise anything. Keep checking back though!
Kevin
P.S. I miss my friend Steve.
*************************************************************
Alex
This is the second time in two weeks I write something like this and I really hope it's the last time for a long, long time.
Everyone was shocked and saddened by the passing of Alex Whybrow, better known to the wrestling world as ''Sweet N' Sour'' Larry Sweeney.
A lot of people I consider myself close to were very good friends with Sweeney. I, unfortunately, can't make that claim. Those guys were lucky enough, throughout all the years they spent on the road and in the ring with him, to collect hundreds of memories of Sweeney that they will now look back on forever. I can't say I had such luck. Larry and I were friends, at one point. Seeing him was always a pleasure and we'd always spend a few minutes bullshitting about whatever was on our mind but we never hung out extensively.
When I heard about his death, I was immediately brought back to one specific moment, my favourite memory of Alex. While it may not be as touching or memorable as the memories his good, close friends have of him, this is something I will always get to hold on to and smile as I look back on the short time I got to spend with him.
It was in March 2008. ROH had a Friday night show in St. Louis, followed by a Saturday night event in Indianapolis. I remember having a particularly rough time on the Friday because when I left home to catch my flight that morning, my son, who was only 3 months old at the time, was very sick and having to leave him and my wife in that state was quite a struggle. I ended up calling home about a hundred times that day and every time, the updates were never good. Nothing that day put me in a good mood or made me smile, I was just miserable...until I got to witness something that still makes me laugh out loud to this day. Adam Pearce had an idea for a promo involving Sweeney and Ric Flair, who was appearing in ROH for the first time. I don't remember who was there to witness this, I know Hero, Hagadorn, Generico and Adam were there for sure.
There may have been a few others but not many.
The promo started with Super Agent Sweeney on the phone, in the midst of an important, deal-making call when Ric Flair walked past him, talking on the phone as well. As they passed each other, their eyes locked and they both closed their flip phones at the EXACT same time while staring at each other intensely. Then they both threw off their sports jacket, again at the exact same time, almost like mirror images of each other. They then proceeded to have a ''Whoo'' exchange and strutting contest that had all of us in tears.
I can't do justice to how incredible that promo was. For some reason, I don't think it's ever been used by ROH. Unless I completely missed it, I checked and it's not on the DVD of that event and it was never put on a videowire either.
Maybe someone in ROH can try and look for it...I don't know if they even keep footage of the past events that doesn't end up getting used.
All I know is I was lucky enough to see a moment that I'm sure meant the world to Alex.
And the smile on his face after was enough to take me out of my slump for that day. I will never forget that moment because to me, it defined perfectly the Sweeney I knew and loved. He loved to performed and could do it as good as anyone in wrestling, even a legend like Ric Flair.
And that's the Alex I will always remember...
12 Large brother!
Sweet N' Sour Forever...
Goodbye Alex.
**********************************************
Phrank
A little over a week ago, a truly amazing person was taken from this world way too young.
It's had to comprehend, how in this day and age, a young man of only 23 years could be attacked by such an aggressive, unstoppable monster. That monster was cancer.
I'll never forget seeing my buddies Player Uno and Stupefied with their head shaved, back in January. It was out of the ordinary as they had always had hair in the past. I asked them, with a smile, why the trim job.
Uno just looked up at me with and said something that chilled me to the bones, ''Phrank's got cancer.''
Phrank was Francois Morin's nickname. Some of you may only know him as the loveable hobo from Inter Species Wrestling, Stinky the Homeless Guy.
Why was his nickname spelled with Ph instead of an F? I don't know...
To tell you all the truth, I don't know nearly enough about Phrank...I really wish I knew more. I wish I had known him better. I knew him for years but never really have the chance to get to know him well.
But I know this: I never heard a single bad word about him from anyone. His best friend, Player Uno, spoke highly of him anytime his name would come up.
I know one thing about Phrank that is absolutely undeniable. He was a kind person and he loved life. One of the best examples of his good heart is easy to find for me...it's simply the way he always treated me.
I'm not the most sociable person. Anyone who knows me will tell you that. I have a lot of friends in wrestling but they all accept me the way I am. I don't talk much and I rarely go out of my way to speak to people. Yet, every single time we would end up at the same place, no matter how long it had been since we'd seen each other, I would feel a tap on my shoulder and when I looked up or turned around to see who is was, I'd be met with a huge grin and a heartwarming ''Hey man!''
Not a little handshake or a discrete nod...He would go out of his way to welcome me and talk for a while. He'd ask about my wife and my son even if he'd only seen them once or twice and he wasn't just asking because that's what people do. He asked because he cared. He listened, smiled and really cared.
That was Phrank. That's the memory I will always carry with me when I think of him.
Some people come into your life, are in it for a very long time and barely have any effect on you...but some people end up only being here for a short while, yet they leave a lasting impression and you remember them forever.
I will remember Phrank forever...
Dude, you are the best friend I never had the chance to have and you will be missed.
Here's a link to an article written by Michael Ryan, in tribute to Phrank:
http://slam.canoe.ca/Slam/Wrestling/2011/04/07/17910576.html
Here are some words from Mark Pollesel, the owner of C*4 wrestling in Ottawa, where
Phrank wrestled as Bash Bison. He was good friend:
I wanted to take a moment to acknowledge the death of a great person, a friend, and a popular member of the C*4 and ISW families, Phrank Morin.
Phrank, age 23, was better known as Stinky the Homeless Guy, as well as Bash Bison, to all of you fans.
For the last several months, Phrank was battling an aggressive form of cancer, which had come upon him suddenly late last year. His friends and family stood with him the whole way. And in turn, he kept a brave and smiling face, and kept those around him comforted with his one of a kind sense of humor.
To know Phrank was to love him. On Friday when he passed, he did so with the love of countless people, who carried him and his battle in their hearts.
I hope all of our fans take a moment to remember the outstanding performer that Phrank was. And to all his friends to continue to remember the great person he was.
I miss you Phrank, and so do the wrestlers and staff of the promotions you worked for.
You gave us all something to smile about every time you stepped into the ring, whether it be as Kid Supreme, Stinky the Homeless Guys, Bash Bison, Big Van Voltage, or whichever member of the illustrious FireMask family was debuting next.
Rest in peace, and in the love of everybody you left behind.
And here's a few memories shared by another one of Phrank's close friend, Mike Rotch, one of the owners of Inter Species Wrestling:
I first met Phrank when he was a 14 year old kid, skinny with shaggy bleached hair. He was training at the local wrestling promotion's wrestling school - and my friends and I were looking for a filming gig. He was nice. Spoke very little English, and I made jokes about how he kinda resembled French actor Gerard Depardieu.
Every time I saw him, he greeted me with a smile. Something he'd become known for.
We became better friends one night while attending a fellow wrestling school student's wedding reception. It was boring. Just really, really boring. I was sitting around with a few of the guys - including Phrank - and we were just absolutely bored to tears. I mentioned that a friend of mine was having a party that night, and I was missing it. A party where he was known to smoke and grill tons of meat - and people would just eat, drink, and party.
We ditched the reception, and drove from Gatineau, Quebec to Ottawa's west end - and hit up the party.
To put myself over for a second (I promise, it's to further the story) - I was known amongst my party friends for my ability to slam beers faster than anyone else they knew. I was dubbed the "Ottawa drinking champion" at another party - and there's actually a championship belt out there somewhere.
Anyway - upon our arrival, I was handed bottles of beer - and asked to slam 'em. I popped the caps off, and down they went. Downed 3 in a row, in about 8 seconds. My friends cheered - as Phrank looked on in amazement. He had never seen anything like that before. He put his hand on my shoulder - I looked at him - and he, in his slowly improving English asked "Mike...will you be my papa?"
I accepted, and with that - I was a 21 year old man with a 14 year old son. Later that night, another of the young students became my son, too.
Phrank was an incredible artist - and he drew this picture of our "family" a little while after that night.
I have many, many memories of Phrank - from filming him dancing all over malls in Ottawa for no reason - to arriving at his apartment one night, to see that he'd spraypainted the word "POO" all over the place out of drunken boredom. There's one that has me laughing every time I think about it, though.
Canada Day (July 1) 2007 - I had a huge party. Basically, the entire Inter Species Wrestling, C*4, and IWS rosters were in attendance. Just a really good time, where food and drink were consumed - and people were powerbombed and German suplexed into a kiddie pool. The party was great, and I have many fond memories of that day - but as I mentioned - one makes me laugh every time.
Late at night, the party was winding down. It was dark outside, and the mosquitoes were out in full force - so we decided to take the party indoors. There was karaoke and a little guitar hero - but Phrank's time was spent play fighting with my little brother and his friends. They were about 6 at the time. At one point, they decided they needed more room to fight - so they went out front.
About 10 minutes later - the kids came back into the house laughing. Phrank followed - his hair messy, his clothes grass-stained, and footprints all over his face. Dirty shoe footprints, as if the kids actually beat him up - covering his face - which, like always, had a smile plastered on it.
That's my favourite Phrank story.
As I said before - one of the greatest people I'll ever know. I just wish that more of you had a chance to meet him.
That's all I've got for now.
-Mike
***********************************************
Q&A Part One (if Part Two exists, I haven't found it yet - RAD)
Q. Considering Quebec wrestling's state, what is your take on what is wrong with it, and what should be done to bring it's popularity back From YouTube User:smumdax
A. I think every Quebec wrestling company should start booking me for seminars, several times. I did one in GEW recently and it was great! *wink*
The popularity of Quebec wrestling will never be back, simply because times have changed and too much has happened to make wrestling seem like a gigantic joke, from the people involved to the unbelievable amount of ''promotions'' that would start up with the same wrestlers in the same city and draw 30 people every show, yet passed themselves up as serious wrestling companies.
There's nothing to be done to make this better.
Q. How much Japanese do you know? Can you teach us any? From YouTube User:ajdisdaman
A. I know none. I can still teach you some but it will be made up and if you use it in Japan, people will not understand you.
Q. Throughout your career, who has been your favourite person to work with and who do you consider to be the best worker that you've been in the ring with? From YouTube User: ciaranoid
A. I have so many guys that I love being in the ring with but I think the Briscoes are at the top of my list. Just amazing dudes to work with and they always bring out the best in me. As far as the best worker I've ever been in the ring with, that honor is divided between Steve Corino and CIMA of Dragon Gate.
Q. Kevin, where do you see yourself in 5 Years time? Will you still be wrestling then? From YouTube User: TheSuperPlex1001
A. I certainly hope so. But I can't tell where or if I will be for sure. The only place I see myself at in 5 years is home with my family.
Q. Smoked meat or poutine? From YouTube User: KaceCC2
A. Poutine hands down.
Q. Hey Kevin, I was wondering... How in the blue hell do people survive the turnbuckle Steenalizer?!! From YouTube User: KreatorOfEvile/Also Via Email
A. I don't know. You could ask Adam Cole, Mike Bailey or Johnny Yuma. They were the three latest victims of it and they're all still walking around from what I can tell.
Q. What are you thoughts on John Zandig and CZW? I know Zandig doesn't run it anymore, but he paid you out in his shoot interview. From Rob Love Via Email
A. I have no idea what CZW is like now. Can't be too bad considering the Briscoes are back there I think. As far as Zandig goes, I don't want to say too much for two reasons. One, I'm aware of the tragedy his family has suffered recently with his son passing away, and two, I believe I am soon recording an Art of Wrestling podcast with my buddy Colt and I think the Zandig stuff will be part of it.
Q. How do Gaijins and Puroresu wrestlers call matches if they don't speak each others' language? I know you have limited experience in Puro, but I was hoping you would answer this question. From YouTube User: KreatorOfEvile/Also Via Email
A. Wrestling is kind of a universal language. Every wrestler in the world, at least all the ones I've met, know what the names of moves and holds are in English. Sometimes the communication can be a bit tricky but we always figure it out.
Q. Do you ever give out receipts to other wrestlers when they stiff you? If so, then who? Super Dragon comes first to my mind :P From YouTube User: KreatorOfEvile/Also Via Email
A. Yes, I do. It's pretty easy to spot me doing so because when I do, I apparently have a tendency of getting a crazy look and my tongue comes out through my teeth when I'm about to hit...at least that's what I've been told. As far as Super Dragon is concerned, I wouldn't say I've ever given him a receipt simply because we always beat the living shit out of each other when we wrestle. But he is the man I credit for showing me that hitting hard in the ring is not something negative. The first time I took a forearm from him, my eyesight got blurry and it rattled my brain...and for some reason, I loved it.
Q. Has weight been a problem for you in the ring, since your a hard hitting person does it take a toll on your body? From YouTube User: brianverrett
A. Absolutely.
Q. How come you are so AWESOME?!
From YouTube User: xShineyxDiverx
A. Because I'm the Miz.
Q. What jobs (if any) did you have before wrestling and do you have a job to support your wrestling income? From Ben Baxter Via Email
A. I used to work at a gas station for a long time. I quit because I was able to make a living off wrestling. Now I do have another job, at a warehouse, which I enjoy quite a bit. I have a family that depends on me and as good a living as I get to make from wrestling, you can never have too much money when you have a little dude in the house constantly eating and breaking stuff on a daily basis.
Q. You've used Linkin Park (One Step Closer) and Drowning Pool (Tear Away) as entrance music, do you still follow either band, if so what do you think of them now? From Clive Gray Via Email
A. I don't follow either. I haven't heard any new Drowning Pool song in years and the new Linkin Park stuff I've heard, while catchy, doesn't appeal to me much at all.
Q. What was one of your worst moments in wrestling? From YouTube User: dietfreeman42718
A. Two come to mind. One was right after a match I had with Nigel McGuiness in Chicago for the ROH title in 2008. We had a pretty good match, I think, yet the crowd never got into it much at all. Then I found out that I was incredibly underpaid compared to what other guys were making (something that was rectified quite quickly) and on top of that, I had major back pain and I had no idea what was causing it. I came as close as I ever did that night to quitting wrestling.
The other is walking out of the Manhattan Center after Final Battle knowing I was done with ROH. That fucking sucked, plain and simple.
Q. Do you like to do Big Shows(ROH) or Smaller Shows(PWG)? From YouTube User: dietfreeman42718
A. I don't consider PWG shows smaller than ROH. The number of people doesn't dictate what is a big show to me. The PWG fans, no matter if there's 100 of them or 500 of them, are always insane and ready for a good time. Every time I'm in a PWG ring, I feel like it's a big show. Same for ROH. Smaller shows, to me, are local shows like C*4 and NSPW. But I don't wrestle any differently. I really don't. I bust my ass everywhere because people paid to come in and see good wrestling. I'll try to measure the crowd to figure out what I need to do to make them happy and sometimes, I may end up doing a whole lot less in the ring than I would in ROH or PWG but I always do everything I can to give the crowd a good show.
What's that? Yes, yes I am a great person. Thank you!
Q. What was one of the hardest things for you to learn when you started training for wrestling? From YouTube User: dietfreeman42718
A. That's a good question. I always hard a real hard time giving dudes a fireman's carry. I also don't have a great hip-toss. I feel awkward doing it. Which is why I never do either.
Q. How did you get into PWG? From YouTube User: dietfreeman42718
A. I used a magical key I found in a goat's tummy...........
Super Dragon saw the IWS 4-way in CZW and the next week, we saw him again in JAPW and somehow ended up in his room. It was quite an unusual situation, especially since he had a reputation of being a loner and an asshole. Here we were, a bunch of strangers in his room, hanging out with him. The rest is history. He liked Generico and I's work so he brought us in to work one match, for a one time thing. We got over, I got especially over, and about 8 months later I was the motherfucking champ!
Q. Dear Kevin, I recently watched ROH Salvation. After the Main Event there was a backstage vignette where you talked about Tyler Black to who-I-presume-was Steve Corino over the phone about how you "saw it in his eyes", how he'd "changed" and how you'd "got him".
It has been driving me insane ever since - no pun intended - and has filled my head with questions... Were you planning something more with Tyler? If so, what were those plans? How did your cryptic words on the phone, and on the ensuing ROH Video Wires (in one you talked about you and Tyler now shared blood, in another you implied that him keeping the belt past Glory by Honor - and thus bringing it to WWE -was a focal point) play into them & foreshadow events? Was it intended to bleed into your *ahem* problems with El Generico at the time? From Phillip Wright via Email
A. When we did the match, we didn't know what was going to happen with Tyler. He had WWE and TNA calling and ROH was trying to re-sign him as well. He was taking time to think things over and this is when Adam was still in control. I had a lot of room with Adam to do things I felt were a good idea, even if there was no real plan to go anywhere with them. He would let me try stuff out and if something came out of it, then we could run with it. This was the same with Tyler. I was personally hoping that my feud with Tyler would last a lot longer than it did, or even better, Tyler would eventually turn and join us. But my ultimate goal was for Tyler to credit Steve and I for talking him into going to WWE, saying we motivated him to dream bigger and achieve his destiny...only for us to brag about having kicked out the one person who could have stopped us by getting inside of his head and making him think it was a great idea for him to leave.
It didn't pan out at all because it wasn't something the new management wanted to pursure and that's fine but that was my idea. I always wanted to make my feud with Tyler about something completely different than what other wrestling feuds usually are. I didn't hate Tyler. I loved him. I thought he was amazing wrestler and he was heading down the wrong path by trying to make the fans happy when they had turned on him immediately after he'd won the belt. I wanted to help Tyler realize what he was, which was the best damn wrestler in the world. I wanted to offer him the chance to beat me so that he could understand what he was...indestructible.
That was my whole thing with the Tyler feud and the reasoning behind every promo we did leading up to it.
Thanks to everyone who sent in questions. One little thing before I take off, I get asked daily, literally, about shirts. The answer is this: I don't have any for sale currently. I am hoping to re-stock the Mr. Wrestling shirts soon and they will be available here when I do. As far as the Generico head shirt, it was an ROH shirt. If you wish to get one, you'd have to contact them but last I heard, they had sold out. Thank you all!
************************************************************
C4
A few years ago a friend of mine came to me with a vision. He wanted to run some shows in his hometown of Ottawa. Nothing big, just a little place for the people in the area to be able to see wrestling again and something for him to be proud of, as a wrestling fan.
His name is Mark. He had tried running in conjunction with the IWS in Ottawa before but the experience was not a very good one, especially when the venue told him and IWS owner Manny they would never be allowed back there again due to a certain wrestler acting erratic and scaring people. Jeez, I wonder who that could have been...
Anyways, a few years went by and Mark was still talking about starting up something of his own. In 2007, he finally did it. He set a date, came up with a name and announced that Capital City Championship Combat, C*4, would hold its first event in November of that year.
I wasn't originally scheduled to be part of that first event because my son Owen was set to be born any day at that point but when I heard Eddie Kingston had to pull out of the show, I couldn't help but offer up my services to Mark as a suitable replacement. Mark took me up on it and the first main-event in C*4 history was set, Kevin Steen & Max Boyer vs Hallowicked and MVP. No, not the recently released, internationally-bound, no-longer-allowed-to-use-that-name MVP but the Ontario independant stand-out Michael Von Payton MVP, who had that moniker way before Antonio Banks, by the way.
That first main-event was held in a horrible six-sided ring, I remember. I fractured my elbow in that match by doing a frog splash off the guardrail to the floor and I still to this day have bone spurs floating around in there.
After that first show, Mark booked a few more dates at the venue he had found. He didn't seem too sure how long he'd run for or how successful he would be but he seemed happy just to be able to bring good wrestling back to Ottawa on a regular basis.
It's now 3 years later and C*4 is still going strong. It doesn't have the best venue, the nicest set-up, the best ring or a huge budget but what it does have is a bunch of guys in the locker room who believe in and love wrestling, loyal fans who come out every show to support their favorite company, and an owner who has one goal in mind: at the end of every show, everyone, from fans to wrestlers, go home happy. Mark is very successful in that aspect.
I'm not sure how the company does financially. I know it does well enough that Mark isn't running ''going out of business'' sales every 2 months to get sympathy and move merch quicker. I know Mark doesn't have to tell his wrestlers he's going to make up for the money they are missing out on at the next show or work at Taco Bell. And it's doing well enough to have some very good independent wrestlers on every show, in addition to the good local talent from the Ottawa area.
Guys like Sonjay Dutt, Hallowicked, Petey Williams, Colin Delaney, Kyoshi, Claudio Castagnoli, Cheech, Cloudy, Jimmy Jacobs, Eddie Edwards, Brodie Lee and many others have all taken part in a show or two in the past. Guys like myself, Tyson Dux, Player Uno, 2.0, Beef Wellington, Sexxxy Eddy, Twiggy, Stupefied, Michael Elgin, El Generico and others are all part of the regular roster.
The reason I chose to write about C*4 for my second column here isn't to kiss up to Mark, although it sure doesn't hurt my standing! The reason I am writing about this is because I feel that C*4 is somewhat of a hidden secret to American wrestling fans and I think a lot of you out there would enjoy the stuff C*4 is putting out quite a bit. I want to try and get the word out and help C*4 get the recognition it deserves.
In the end, all I want to say is if you're wrestling fan and you enjoy ROH, PWG, Chikara or anything like that, if you enjoy good, fun pro wrestling and you're looking for something new to take a look at, C*4 is as good a choice as any. Pick up a DVD or two and you'll see what I mean.
For those of you interested in seeing what C*4 has to offer, go to www.c4wrestling.com
I hope you all check it out!
In my digging around for the other letters from the feud with Generico, I managed to dig up something I didn't even know existed: columns Kevin wrote for his website back around 2011--or at least, that's when the Internet Wayback Machine snagged them.
Finding stuff like this, maybe it's not the only thing I can give to the wrestling community, but it's probably the best thing. I can't draw or paint, I haven't nearly got my 10,000 hours in writing yet. I can't even recognize faces, so match reviews are right out.
I'm pretty good at research, though.
A gentle warning before you proceed: two of these columns are about wrestlers who passed away. One took his own life, although this isn't mentioned--if you look him up, like I did, it's there. Trust your gut, folks.
(As with Kevin's Letters 2, these were pulled from the ruins of steenwrestling.com)
****************************************************************
Tough
In my line of work I have met countless guys who I would describe as tough. Actually, every wrestler is tough, no doubt. But there's tough, and then there's really tough. Like the Briscoes, Austin Aries, Bryan Danielson, Super Dragon and so many others. Then there's the tough motherfuckers like Nigel McGuiness, Steve Corino and Eddie Edwards.
I'm not really sure which of those two categories I'm a part of. I've never been knocked out in my entire life even though I have never put my hands up to try and block any shot, kick or weapon thrown at my head or face in the last ten years. I've been wrestling with a torn up knee for about 3 years. I guess that could make me a tough motherfucker...but then again, who hasn't wrestled hurt. Eddie Edwards for instance, became an instant hero in any ROH fan's heart when he hid the cast on his arm from the New York State Athletic Commission all night so that he could be part of the Ladder War II. Everyone knows that by now. Steve Corino has been wrestling for months with a fractured elbow, partly torn tricep and a vicious infection in that same arm. Nobody would know it from looking at him work, though.
The other day I was at my doctor's office, in the waiting room and I was watching some MMA on my iPod touch. They were talking about how tough this one particular fighter was and I then saw him get knocked out in 22 seconds right after the announcers were praising his ''great chin.'' It got me thinking about what makes someone tough. What makes someone really tough. And what makes someone a tough motherfucker. As I was leaning towards officially putting my name in the third column, thinking with pride about how many superkicks I could take before finally being put down, and elderly man came into the waiting room. He must have been at least 80 years old. He was bent over, putting as much of his weight as he could onto the walker he was using to get around. The 12 feet between the door and the secretary's office must have taken him a good 2 minutes to complete. When he got up to the office I watched him struggle to get his wallet out and get his Medicare card. I watched as he politely asked the secretary for an appointment. When she said there's no way the doctor would be able to see him that day, he said that was fine, any other day would work. She told him to hang on, she'd be back with him in a minute.
The minute turned to 5 and I offered him my seat, which he declined. I sat back down and kept watching him as 5 minutes turned to 10, and then 15. This entire time, he continued to decline the seats people were offering him, struggling to balance his body weight on his walker, never once asking the secretary what was taking so long, never once looking annoyed. The secretary finally told him she was too busy to give him an appointment right now and he'd have to wait another little while. He replied that he had another appointment in 10 minutes in another building, so she said he'd have to come back later. This would have infuriated me and I'm a relatively healthy 26 year old man.
All she had to do was look in her stupid little book but she told him to come back later. And you know what? The old man looked at her, said no problem, he'd be back later and then thanked her with a nice smile. He put his hat back on, grabbed his walker and made his way back to the door. As he slowly passed me, I saw him look up at me, nod and wink. Now unless he was hitting on me, I'm pretty sure that this man I saw struggle to simply walk a mere 12 feet, wait for close to a half hour standing while struggling to keep his balance with his walker, and who had just gotten turned around and told to come back later by a horrible secretary who was too busy to open a book, was in a good mood. Just another day for him, no big deal!
The doctor called my name and as I headed to his office it occurred to me why I was there. I have a skin infection that causes a great deal of pain in my right arm. It burns and keeps me up at night. I complain about it all the time. It sometimes makes me miserable for days at a time, just ask my family. Then I remember I was about to put myself in the tough motherfucker column...But the tough motherfucker column is something very exclusive, very hard to get into. It can't get too crowded in that column otherwise the title just isn't as prestigious. So, at that moment I made a decision. I went ahead and put myself in the really tough column, almost as prestigious as the other one.
But in the other column, the really special one...
I put that old tough motherfucker.
**********************************************************
SINCE THE FINAL BATTLE...
The last few months of my career have been very strange, to say the least. I've been feeling quite conflicted about the whole thing. Over the past 2 months, I have gone through more ups and downs than I have in the 10 years I spent in this crazy world before.
December started off great, with a match in NSPW, a promotion in Quebec City, that was not only a blast to be a part of but ended up being voted Match of the Year in Quebec for 2010. It only got better when I made my return to PWG and had a match with Dragon Gate's Akira Tozawa that I can honestly say will forever be one of the highlights of my career. The dude is incredible, the crowd in PWG is, I truly believe, one of the best in the world, always has been, and the fact that I was back in my wrestling home, all those combining factors made this a night I'll always remember.
(The match actually just came out on DVD on the Cyanide: A Loving Tribute to Poison event and I encourage everyone to go out of their way to get this show! Not only does it have the aforementioned match with Tozawa but it also has an opening match featuring the debuting Willie Mack against Peter Avalon that was tons of fun, two crazy tag matches in the Young Bucks vs the Fighting Taylor Boys and the Cutler Bros vs the RockNES Monsters and an excellent main-event tag team championship match with the champions, Paul London and the retarded waste of space masked disease vs the Kings Of Wrestling. Please visit www.prowrestlingguerrilla.com to get this, you won't regret it.
Don't download it illegally because I guarantee you'll regret that when you die and get to hell, which just so happens to be my basement)
Then came my last ROH weekend. The first night was a real treat. I got team with my idol Steve Corino one last time. And it was against my favorite opponents, the Briscoes.
I had a blast in there with all those guys and I'm glad I got to work with all of them one last time in ROH before my departure. The next night should have been a crowning moment, the culmination of something I had worked for all year, put everything I had into. I had been obsessing over that night for over a year. But it didn't end quite the way I thought it would. We did have a great match like I thought we would. The fans were all very into our story, like I thought they would be. But I didn't think the walk back to the locker room after the match would be my last one.
Following Final Battle, I had a couple of interviews to do. One with Alan Counihan for the Dr. Keith radio show that I really enjoyed doing. Alan was a great person to talk to and the hour and half flew by. Most of all, however, everyone who commented on the interview enjoyed it and I'm glad my story entertained them. I had another interview with PowerSlam magazine with a fellow named Fin Martin which was also very enjoyable. A quote from the interview actually came out on various websites last week regarding a claim I made about TNA. I'll probably comment on that whole thing at some point, since I have received quite a few e-mails and text messages about it and people seem a little confused over what I meant to say. Keep an eye (or ear) out for that soon.
Through all of this, I was wondering where do I go from here? Talking about my career at length with these guys made me realize that I had accomplished everything I set out to do, except for winning the ROH World Title. Maybe taking an extended break would be a good idea?
My entire January schedule revolved around shows in Montreal, Quebec City or Ottawa, all less than 2 hours from my home. That means I got to spend time with my son and wife which I don't get to do as much as I wish and man, that's by far the best part of not having such a busy wrestling schedule. The shows themselves went very well.
C*4 Wrestling, the promotion I wrote about in my last column, ran two shows in as many weeks, one in Montreal and one in Ottawa and I can honestly say that after the second one, I could tell myself for the first time in quite a while that I loved wrestling. The stuff I'm doing over there with Jimmy Jacobs and this up-and-comer named Mike Bailey has people going crazy and is just so much fun to be a part of. Both shows should be available on DVD soon and I hope some people decide to check them out.
The end of January saw me fly to California for PWG's show as part of the second Wrestlereunion. This was my first, true big test since Final Battle. A match on a big stage, with a sold-out crowd to witness it live, and a lot of people that would see it on DVD after. And it was against one of the best wrestlers in the world currently, Chris Hero. I always get very nervous when I wrestle Chris, not sure why. But it might have been even worse in this particular case, since it was my first high profile match since my ROH departure. We ended up having a really good match. A lot of people noticed Chris and I had a bit of a talk following the match and have asked me what was said. Well, the exact words will stay between Chris and I but I will say this, I'll always be grateful for those few words and keeping them in mind since then has helped me greatly.
February has been pretty quiet so far but that's not bad considering I'm heading into a tag team tournament with Akira Tozawa as my partner. Suffice to say I'll need all the rest I can get. Actually, last weekend wasn't that quiet, now that I think about it. My turn on fan favorite Pee Wee in Quebec City's NSPW led to the crowd throwing empty bottles, full bottles, chains and one particularly tough guy threw a chair at me. When I caught it and jumped over the guardrail, he promptly ran right out the door. My night wasn't over though. When I turned around to head back to the locker room I was met with a slap to the face by a woman who looked to be about 50 and was absolutely seething with rage. She turned out to be Pee Wee's mother. My advice for her to start saving up for her son's funeral didn't seem to make her feel much better so I decided to tell her the same thing her dear son tells everyone all the time...keep on smiling!
Well, that's about it for what my wrestling career has been like since leaving ROH. For those of you who've asked me what I was up to, well, there you have it.
I'll try to update the website more often but I can't promise anything. Keep checking back though!
Kevin
P.S. I miss my friend Steve.
*************************************************************
Alex
This is the second time in two weeks I write something like this and I really hope it's the last time for a long, long time.
Everyone was shocked and saddened by the passing of Alex Whybrow, better known to the wrestling world as ''Sweet N' Sour'' Larry Sweeney.
A lot of people I consider myself close to were very good friends with Sweeney. I, unfortunately, can't make that claim. Those guys were lucky enough, throughout all the years they spent on the road and in the ring with him, to collect hundreds of memories of Sweeney that they will now look back on forever. I can't say I had such luck. Larry and I were friends, at one point. Seeing him was always a pleasure and we'd always spend a few minutes bullshitting about whatever was on our mind but we never hung out extensively.
When I heard about his death, I was immediately brought back to one specific moment, my favourite memory of Alex. While it may not be as touching or memorable as the memories his good, close friends have of him, this is something I will always get to hold on to and smile as I look back on the short time I got to spend with him.
It was in March 2008. ROH had a Friday night show in St. Louis, followed by a Saturday night event in Indianapolis. I remember having a particularly rough time on the Friday because when I left home to catch my flight that morning, my son, who was only 3 months old at the time, was very sick and having to leave him and my wife in that state was quite a struggle. I ended up calling home about a hundred times that day and every time, the updates were never good. Nothing that day put me in a good mood or made me smile, I was just miserable...until I got to witness something that still makes me laugh out loud to this day. Adam Pearce had an idea for a promo involving Sweeney and Ric Flair, who was appearing in ROH for the first time. I don't remember who was there to witness this, I know Hero, Hagadorn, Generico and Adam were there for sure.
There may have been a few others but not many.
The promo started with Super Agent Sweeney on the phone, in the midst of an important, deal-making call when Ric Flair walked past him, talking on the phone as well. As they passed each other, their eyes locked and they both closed their flip phones at the EXACT same time while staring at each other intensely. Then they both threw off their sports jacket, again at the exact same time, almost like mirror images of each other. They then proceeded to have a ''Whoo'' exchange and strutting contest that had all of us in tears.
I can't do justice to how incredible that promo was. For some reason, I don't think it's ever been used by ROH. Unless I completely missed it, I checked and it's not on the DVD of that event and it was never put on a videowire either.
Maybe someone in ROH can try and look for it...I don't know if they even keep footage of the past events that doesn't end up getting used.
All I know is I was lucky enough to see a moment that I'm sure meant the world to Alex.
And the smile on his face after was enough to take me out of my slump for that day. I will never forget that moment because to me, it defined perfectly the Sweeney I knew and loved. He loved to performed and could do it as good as anyone in wrestling, even a legend like Ric Flair.
And that's the Alex I will always remember...
12 Large brother!
Sweet N' Sour Forever...
Goodbye Alex.
**********************************************
Phrank
A little over a week ago, a truly amazing person was taken from this world way too young.
It's had to comprehend, how in this day and age, a young man of only 23 years could be attacked by such an aggressive, unstoppable monster. That monster was cancer.
I'll never forget seeing my buddies Player Uno and Stupefied with their head shaved, back in January. It was out of the ordinary as they had always had hair in the past. I asked them, with a smile, why the trim job.
Uno just looked up at me with and said something that chilled me to the bones, ''Phrank's got cancer.''
Phrank was Francois Morin's nickname. Some of you may only know him as the loveable hobo from Inter Species Wrestling, Stinky the Homeless Guy.
Why was his nickname spelled with Ph instead of an F? I don't know...
To tell you all the truth, I don't know nearly enough about Phrank...I really wish I knew more. I wish I had known him better. I knew him for years but never really have the chance to get to know him well.
But I know this: I never heard a single bad word about him from anyone. His best friend, Player Uno, spoke highly of him anytime his name would come up.
I know one thing about Phrank that is absolutely undeniable. He was a kind person and he loved life. One of the best examples of his good heart is easy to find for me...it's simply the way he always treated me.
I'm not the most sociable person. Anyone who knows me will tell you that. I have a lot of friends in wrestling but they all accept me the way I am. I don't talk much and I rarely go out of my way to speak to people. Yet, every single time we would end up at the same place, no matter how long it had been since we'd seen each other, I would feel a tap on my shoulder and when I looked up or turned around to see who is was, I'd be met with a huge grin and a heartwarming ''Hey man!''
Not a little handshake or a discrete nod...He would go out of his way to welcome me and talk for a while. He'd ask about my wife and my son even if he'd only seen them once or twice and he wasn't just asking because that's what people do. He asked because he cared. He listened, smiled and really cared.
That was Phrank. That's the memory I will always carry with me when I think of him.
Some people come into your life, are in it for a very long time and barely have any effect on you...but some people end up only being here for a short while, yet they leave a lasting impression and you remember them forever.
I will remember Phrank forever...
Dude, you are the best friend I never had the chance to have and you will be missed.
Here's a link to an article written by Michael Ryan, in tribute to Phrank:
http://slam.canoe.ca/Slam/Wrestling/2011/04/07/17910576.html
Here are some words from Mark Pollesel, the owner of C*4 wrestling in Ottawa, where
Phrank wrestled as Bash Bison. He was good friend:
I wanted to take a moment to acknowledge the death of a great person, a friend, and a popular member of the C*4 and ISW families, Phrank Morin.
Phrank, age 23, was better known as Stinky the Homeless Guy, as well as Bash Bison, to all of you fans.
For the last several months, Phrank was battling an aggressive form of cancer, which had come upon him suddenly late last year. His friends and family stood with him the whole way. And in turn, he kept a brave and smiling face, and kept those around him comforted with his one of a kind sense of humor.
To know Phrank was to love him. On Friday when he passed, he did so with the love of countless people, who carried him and his battle in their hearts.
I hope all of our fans take a moment to remember the outstanding performer that Phrank was. And to all his friends to continue to remember the great person he was.
I miss you Phrank, and so do the wrestlers and staff of the promotions you worked for.
You gave us all something to smile about every time you stepped into the ring, whether it be as Kid Supreme, Stinky the Homeless Guys, Bash Bison, Big Van Voltage, or whichever member of the illustrious FireMask family was debuting next.
Rest in peace, and in the love of everybody you left behind.
And here's a few memories shared by another one of Phrank's close friend, Mike Rotch, one of the owners of Inter Species Wrestling:
I first met Phrank when he was a 14 year old kid, skinny with shaggy bleached hair. He was training at the local wrestling promotion's wrestling school - and my friends and I were looking for a filming gig. He was nice. Spoke very little English, and I made jokes about how he kinda resembled French actor Gerard Depardieu.
Every time I saw him, he greeted me with a smile. Something he'd become known for.
We became better friends one night while attending a fellow wrestling school student's wedding reception. It was boring. Just really, really boring. I was sitting around with a few of the guys - including Phrank - and we were just absolutely bored to tears. I mentioned that a friend of mine was having a party that night, and I was missing it. A party where he was known to smoke and grill tons of meat - and people would just eat, drink, and party.
We ditched the reception, and drove from Gatineau, Quebec to Ottawa's west end - and hit up the party.
To put myself over for a second (I promise, it's to further the story) - I was known amongst my party friends for my ability to slam beers faster than anyone else they knew. I was dubbed the "Ottawa drinking champion" at another party - and there's actually a championship belt out there somewhere.
Anyway - upon our arrival, I was handed bottles of beer - and asked to slam 'em. I popped the caps off, and down they went. Downed 3 in a row, in about 8 seconds. My friends cheered - as Phrank looked on in amazement. He had never seen anything like that before. He put his hand on my shoulder - I looked at him - and he, in his slowly improving English asked "Mike...will you be my papa?"
I accepted, and with that - I was a 21 year old man with a 14 year old son. Later that night, another of the young students became my son, too.
Phrank was an incredible artist - and he drew this picture of our "family" a little while after that night.
I have many, many memories of Phrank - from filming him dancing all over malls in Ottawa for no reason - to arriving at his apartment one night, to see that he'd spraypainted the word "POO" all over the place out of drunken boredom. There's one that has me laughing every time I think about it, though.
Canada Day (July 1) 2007 - I had a huge party. Basically, the entire Inter Species Wrestling, C*4, and IWS rosters were in attendance. Just a really good time, where food and drink were consumed - and people were powerbombed and German suplexed into a kiddie pool. The party was great, and I have many fond memories of that day - but as I mentioned - one makes me laugh every time.
Late at night, the party was winding down. It was dark outside, and the mosquitoes were out in full force - so we decided to take the party indoors. There was karaoke and a little guitar hero - but Phrank's time was spent play fighting with my little brother and his friends. They were about 6 at the time. At one point, they decided they needed more room to fight - so they went out front.
About 10 minutes later - the kids came back into the house laughing. Phrank followed - his hair messy, his clothes grass-stained, and footprints all over his face. Dirty shoe footprints, as if the kids actually beat him up - covering his face - which, like always, had a smile plastered on it.
That's my favourite Phrank story.
As I said before - one of the greatest people I'll ever know. I just wish that more of you had a chance to meet him.
That's all I've got for now.
-Mike
***********************************************
Q&A Part One (if Part Two exists, I haven't found it yet - RAD)
Q. Considering Quebec wrestling's state, what is your take on what is wrong with it, and what should be done to bring it's popularity back From YouTube User:smumdax
A. I think every Quebec wrestling company should start booking me for seminars, several times. I did one in GEW recently and it was great! *wink*
The popularity of Quebec wrestling will never be back, simply because times have changed and too much has happened to make wrestling seem like a gigantic joke, from the people involved to the unbelievable amount of ''promotions'' that would start up with the same wrestlers in the same city and draw 30 people every show, yet passed themselves up as serious wrestling companies.
There's nothing to be done to make this better.
Q. How much Japanese do you know? Can you teach us any? From YouTube User:ajdisdaman
A. I know none. I can still teach you some but it will be made up and if you use it in Japan, people will not understand you.
Q. Throughout your career, who has been your favourite person to work with and who do you consider to be the best worker that you've been in the ring with? From YouTube User: ciaranoid
A. I have so many guys that I love being in the ring with but I think the Briscoes are at the top of my list. Just amazing dudes to work with and they always bring out the best in me. As far as the best worker I've ever been in the ring with, that honor is divided between Steve Corino and CIMA of Dragon Gate.
Q. Kevin, where do you see yourself in 5 Years time? Will you still be wrestling then? From YouTube User: TheSuperPlex1001
A. I certainly hope so. But I can't tell where or if I will be for sure. The only place I see myself at in 5 years is home with my family.
Q. Smoked meat or poutine? From YouTube User: KaceCC2
A. Poutine hands down.
Q. Hey Kevin, I was wondering... How in the blue hell do people survive the turnbuckle Steenalizer?!! From YouTube User: KreatorOfEvile/Also Via Email
A. I don't know. You could ask Adam Cole, Mike Bailey or Johnny Yuma. They were the three latest victims of it and they're all still walking around from what I can tell.
Q. What are you thoughts on John Zandig and CZW? I know Zandig doesn't run it anymore, but he paid you out in his shoot interview. From Rob Love Via Email
A. I have no idea what CZW is like now. Can't be too bad considering the Briscoes are back there I think. As far as Zandig goes, I don't want to say too much for two reasons. One, I'm aware of the tragedy his family has suffered recently with his son passing away, and two, I believe I am soon recording an Art of Wrestling podcast with my buddy Colt and I think the Zandig stuff will be part of it.
Q. How do Gaijins and Puroresu wrestlers call matches if they don't speak each others' language? I know you have limited experience in Puro, but I was hoping you would answer this question. From YouTube User: KreatorOfEvile/Also Via Email
A. Wrestling is kind of a universal language. Every wrestler in the world, at least all the ones I've met, know what the names of moves and holds are in English. Sometimes the communication can be a bit tricky but we always figure it out.
Q. Do you ever give out receipts to other wrestlers when they stiff you? If so, then who? Super Dragon comes first to my mind :P From YouTube User: KreatorOfEvile/Also Via Email
A. Yes, I do. It's pretty easy to spot me doing so because when I do, I apparently have a tendency of getting a crazy look and my tongue comes out through my teeth when I'm about to hit...at least that's what I've been told. As far as Super Dragon is concerned, I wouldn't say I've ever given him a receipt simply because we always beat the living shit out of each other when we wrestle. But he is the man I credit for showing me that hitting hard in the ring is not something negative. The first time I took a forearm from him, my eyesight got blurry and it rattled my brain...and for some reason, I loved it.
Q. Has weight been a problem for you in the ring, since your a hard hitting person does it take a toll on your body? From YouTube User: brianverrett
A. Absolutely.
Q. How come you are so AWESOME?!
From YouTube User: xShineyxDiverx
A. Because I'm the Miz.
Q. What jobs (if any) did you have before wrestling and do you have a job to support your wrestling income? From Ben Baxter Via Email
A. I used to work at a gas station for a long time. I quit because I was able to make a living off wrestling. Now I do have another job, at a warehouse, which I enjoy quite a bit. I have a family that depends on me and as good a living as I get to make from wrestling, you can never have too much money when you have a little dude in the house constantly eating and breaking stuff on a daily basis.
Q. You've used Linkin Park (One Step Closer) and Drowning Pool (Tear Away) as entrance music, do you still follow either band, if so what do you think of them now? From Clive Gray Via Email
A. I don't follow either. I haven't heard any new Drowning Pool song in years and the new Linkin Park stuff I've heard, while catchy, doesn't appeal to me much at all.
Q. What was one of your worst moments in wrestling? From YouTube User: dietfreeman42718
A. Two come to mind. One was right after a match I had with Nigel McGuiness in Chicago for the ROH title in 2008. We had a pretty good match, I think, yet the crowd never got into it much at all. Then I found out that I was incredibly underpaid compared to what other guys were making (something that was rectified quite quickly) and on top of that, I had major back pain and I had no idea what was causing it. I came as close as I ever did that night to quitting wrestling.
The other is walking out of the Manhattan Center after Final Battle knowing I was done with ROH. That fucking sucked, plain and simple.
Q. Do you like to do Big Shows(ROH) or Smaller Shows(PWG)? From YouTube User: dietfreeman42718
A. I don't consider PWG shows smaller than ROH. The number of people doesn't dictate what is a big show to me. The PWG fans, no matter if there's 100 of them or 500 of them, are always insane and ready for a good time. Every time I'm in a PWG ring, I feel like it's a big show. Same for ROH. Smaller shows, to me, are local shows like C*4 and NSPW. But I don't wrestle any differently. I really don't. I bust my ass everywhere because people paid to come in and see good wrestling. I'll try to measure the crowd to figure out what I need to do to make them happy and sometimes, I may end up doing a whole lot less in the ring than I would in ROH or PWG but I always do everything I can to give the crowd a good show.
What's that? Yes, yes I am a great person. Thank you!
Q. What was one of the hardest things for you to learn when you started training for wrestling? From YouTube User: dietfreeman42718
A. That's a good question. I always hard a real hard time giving dudes a fireman's carry. I also don't have a great hip-toss. I feel awkward doing it. Which is why I never do either.
Q. How did you get into PWG? From YouTube User: dietfreeman42718
A. I used a magical key I found in a goat's tummy...........
Super Dragon saw the IWS 4-way in CZW and the next week, we saw him again in JAPW and somehow ended up in his room. It was quite an unusual situation, especially since he had a reputation of being a loner and an asshole. Here we were, a bunch of strangers in his room, hanging out with him. The rest is history. He liked Generico and I's work so he brought us in to work one match, for a one time thing. We got over, I got especially over, and about 8 months later I was the motherfucking champ!
Q. Dear Kevin, I recently watched ROH Salvation. After the Main Event there was a backstage vignette where you talked about Tyler Black to who-I-presume-was Steve Corino over the phone about how you "saw it in his eyes", how he'd "changed" and how you'd "got him".
It has been driving me insane ever since - no pun intended - and has filled my head with questions... Were you planning something more with Tyler? If so, what were those plans? How did your cryptic words on the phone, and on the ensuing ROH Video Wires (in one you talked about you and Tyler now shared blood, in another you implied that him keeping the belt past Glory by Honor - and thus bringing it to WWE -was a focal point) play into them & foreshadow events? Was it intended to bleed into your *ahem* problems with El Generico at the time? From Phillip Wright via Email
A. When we did the match, we didn't know what was going to happen with Tyler. He had WWE and TNA calling and ROH was trying to re-sign him as well. He was taking time to think things over and this is when Adam was still in control. I had a lot of room with Adam to do things I felt were a good idea, even if there was no real plan to go anywhere with them. He would let me try stuff out and if something came out of it, then we could run with it. This was the same with Tyler. I was personally hoping that my feud with Tyler would last a lot longer than it did, or even better, Tyler would eventually turn and join us. But my ultimate goal was for Tyler to credit Steve and I for talking him into going to WWE, saying we motivated him to dream bigger and achieve his destiny...only for us to brag about having kicked out the one person who could have stopped us by getting inside of his head and making him think it was a great idea for him to leave.
It didn't pan out at all because it wasn't something the new management wanted to pursure and that's fine but that was my idea. I always wanted to make my feud with Tyler about something completely different than what other wrestling feuds usually are. I didn't hate Tyler. I loved him. I thought he was amazing wrestler and he was heading down the wrong path by trying to make the fans happy when they had turned on him immediately after he'd won the belt. I wanted to help Tyler realize what he was, which was the best damn wrestler in the world. I wanted to offer him the chance to beat me so that he could understand what he was...indestructible.
That was my whole thing with the Tyler feud and the reasoning behind every promo we did leading up to it.
Thanks to everyone who sent in questions. One little thing before I take off, I get asked daily, literally, about shirts. The answer is this: I don't have any for sale currently. I am hoping to re-stock the Mr. Wrestling shirts soon and they will be available here when I do. As far as the Generico head shirt, it was an ROH shirt. If you wish to get one, you'd have to contact them but last I heard, they had sold out. Thank you all!
************************************************************
C4
A few years ago a friend of mine came to me with a vision. He wanted to run some shows in his hometown of Ottawa. Nothing big, just a little place for the people in the area to be able to see wrestling again and something for him to be proud of, as a wrestling fan.
His name is Mark. He had tried running in conjunction with the IWS in Ottawa before but the experience was not a very good one, especially when the venue told him and IWS owner Manny they would never be allowed back there again due to a certain wrestler acting erratic and scaring people. Jeez, I wonder who that could have been...
Anyways, a few years went by and Mark was still talking about starting up something of his own. In 2007, he finally did it. He set a date, came up with a name and announced that Capital City Championship Combat, C*4, would hold its first event in November of that year.
I wasn't originally scheduled to be part of that first event because my son Owen was set to be born any day at that point but when I heard Eddie Kingston had to pull out of the show, I couldn't help but offer up my services to Mark as a suitable replacement. Mark took me up on it and the first main-event in C*4 history was set, Kevin Steen & Max Boyer vs Hallowicked and MVP. No, not the recently released, internationally-bound, no-longer-allowed-to-use-that-name MVP but the Ontario independant stand-out Michael Von Payton MVP, who had that moniker way before Antonio Banks, by the way.
That first main-event was held in a horrible six-sided ring, I remember. I fractured my elbow in that match by doing a frog splash off the guardrail to the floor and I still to this day have bone spurs floating around in there.
After that first show, Mark booked a few more dates at the venue he had found. He didn't seem too sure how long he'd run for or how successful he would be but he seemed happy just to be able to bring good wrestling back to Ottawa on a regular basis.
It's now 3 years later and C*4 is still going strong. It doesn't have the best venue, the nicest set-up, the best ring or a huge budget but what it does have is a bunch of guys in the locker room who believe in and love wrestling, loyal fans who come out every show to support their favorite company, and an owner who has one goal in mind: at the end of every show, everyone, from fans to wrestlers, go home happy. Mark is very successful in that aspect.
I'm not sure how the company does financially. I know it does well enough that Mark isn't running ''going out of business'' sales every 2 months to get sympathy and move merch quicker. I know Mark doesn't have to tell his wrestlers he's going to make up for the money they are missing out on at the next show or work at Taco Bell. And it's doing well enough to have some very good independent wrestlers on every show, in addition to the good local talent from the Ottawa area.
Guys like Sonjay Dutt, Hallowicked, Petey Williams, Colin Delaney, Kyoshi, Claudio Castagnoli, Cheech, Cloudy, Jimmy Jacobs, Eddie Edwards, Brodie Lee and many others have all taken part in a show or two in the past. Guys like myself, Tyson Dux, Player Uno, 2.0, Beef Wellington, Sexxxy Eddy, Twiggy, Stupefied, Michael Elgin, El Generico and others are all part of the regular roster.
The reason I chose to write about C*4 for my second column here isn't to kiss up to Mark, although it sure doesn't hurt my standing! The reason I am writing about this is because I feel that C*4 is somewhat of a hidden secret to American wrestling fans and I think a lot of you out there would enjoy the stuff C*4 is putting out quite a bit. I want to try and get the word out and help C*4 get the recognition it deserves.
In the end, all I want to say is if you're wrestling fan and you enjoy ROH, PWG, Chikara or anything like that, if you enjoy good, fun pro wrestling and you're looking for something new to take a look at, C*4 is as good a choice as any. Pick up a DVD or two and you'll see what I mean.
For those of you interested in seeing what C*4 has to offer, go to www.c4wrestling.com
I hope you all check it out!
Kevin
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)