A Long Time Coming.
A sense of gloom and despair was thick in the air this morning, on the streets of downtown, Philadelphia. The Pittsburgh Steelers had sustained a crushing defeat last night and it had literally sucked the life out of these people. Expressionless faces and slouched mannerisms were donned by everyone as they passed. I thought to myself, “This must be what defeat inside of the squared-circle felt like.” Right then and there was when I had became determined that this was something I didn’t want to feel anytime soon.
The sky matched the feelings of those folks, it was a gray, cold, with a overcast of clouds. The streets were still damp from the previous night’s rainfall, walking from my hotel towards the Wells Fargo Center, I warmed myself with coffee; as I skipped over water filled potholes, and over flowed sewage drains. I hadn’t got much sleep the night before, from all the tossing and turning, replaying my outburst from the press conference, over and over again. I didn’t know if it was the smartest thing to do… Poking at all those loins before I would soon be putting myself inside a ring with one of them.
I awoke this morning with all that press conference business weighing heavy on my mind. But, all that nonsense would soon be far from my train of thought, as I was surprised to see I had message at the front desk in the lobby, waiting for me. When I came down the young women behind the desk called out to me. She had a message from Mr. Cutter himself… Apparently, the card for the tournament was already out... I had to wipe my eyes and do a double take, clearly I was still sleeping and this was all still just a wild dream.
Not only did I have to face one opponent in my first ever match, I had now been informed via this message that I was booked to take on two separate opponents, and this was just in the first round of the tournament. I really had to clear my head now, after receiving such unexpected news… I decided it might be a good idea to get out of my hotel room and go see the Wells Fargo Center, in person this morning. I hoped the walk would help to do something to realign my mindset and reclaim some of that confidence, I had had during the press conference. I needed to do something to shake these pre-fight jitters I was experiencing and fast.
Somehow, I had to try to get myself refocused and get started on my game plan for the match... I was only a few blocks away and the arena wasn’t to far from the gym I was planning on visiting later on that morning. I stopped at a Starbucks along the way and got a refill of coffee, as the first cup was gone before I even hit the end of the block. Last nights defeat of the Steelers was the talk of the bistro, as everyone griped over their coffees. Each person having their own thoughts on what should of happened and what they would have done; if they were in charge of the team. Sofa quarterbacks... I just laughed under my breath to myself. Because, clearly most of them wouldn’t last a second under that type of pressure. I just hoped I had what it took...
Leaving the coffee shop I was fast approaching the building where the action was set to take place. The sear size of the arena began growing bigger and bigger; with it step forward. I was becoming awestruck and taken back more and more. I definitely wasn’t becoming overcome with a sense of focus, like I had hoped; that was for sure. Instead I was becoming more unsure of myself and my skills in the ring than ever…”Did I deserve this shot? Would I make a fool of myself?” I asked myself.
All of the usual questions one about to put them self out there for all to see would ask. It was really quite a humbling experience, I thought as I just stood there drinking the some more of my coffee. Gazing up at the Wells Fargo Center logo written in yellow and red letters along the side of the building, they seemed to just loom over me. I felt quite small in that moment in time and yet at the same time, I felt honored. Tossing back the last of the java from my cup, I tried to piece together where I thought I fit in, in the grand scheme of things.
All of the other fighter who were set to partake in this tournament, clearly must have had years of experience and undoubtedly, had fought in front of packed arenas just like this one. Yet, here I was, with my torn blue jean shorts and ripped up "Tool" t shirt, about to step onto one of the biggest stages in the world. For the first time and without even a single match under my belt. “I must truly be out of my fucking mind!” I thought to myself. I also had to be without a doubt one of the luckiest men alive, seeing that all that I had done to get me here, was a send promo reel, to every promotion in the country. Tossing the coffee cup into a near by trash can I continued to walk along side of the building, and I imagined what it would be like to be in the ring, in front of all those people. Knowing this might be my one and only shot to make a name for myself.
Getting that phone call from Mr. Cutter, a few weeks back was truly a life changer; to say the least. I ain’t even going to lie to anyone when I say I sort of got teary eyed. Coming to the realization that things were never going to be the same for me again. Knowing that all the effort I had put in, wouldn’t have just been for nothing. It was finally about pay off in a big way and It finally was going to take me someplace, I couldn't dare to imagined. All the countless long nights I spent in the gym, busting my tail off. It was now all going to culminate into my dreams finally coming true. I had grew up watching wrestling, idolizing all the greatest to ever do it and now... I was on my way to actually becoming one them. Goosebumps.
Once only just a snot nosed kid with a dream, that started to train, before I even knew how to correctly take a bump; without hurting myself. Calling matches out loud and hearing the crowd chant my name, as my friends and I would wrestle around my living room. As I got older and more serious about it, I enrolled into a school. There I was properly taught and trained on how to do what it was that I loved and was passionate about. Now, I was just a few weeks away from it all happening, the nerves were killing me.
Yet, I still couldn't believe it was a reality. I truly never thought I would make it. Each week I thought I would be the next one to just give up and go work in a factory or something. I had saw a many bright eyed and dream chasers just like myself, having their dreams cut short right in front of my eyes. Some of them didn’t even make it past the first day or two of training; before their bodies would just shut down on them. A lot of people think that they have what it takes, to step inside of that ring. But, when their bodies has other plans and they crash hard, it just kills any drive they had and takes the life right out of them. I was a hard thing to bare witness too. To be both mentally and physically strong enough to go through the torture and struggle, only for the sake of honing one's craft, is either a skill you have or you don’t.
Making my way up to the front of the massive building, I came across a bronze statue. It was very nice representation of a legend from another hard sports to master, basketball. Stunning, there he was in all his glory... Wilt Chamberlain. Immortalized for all to see, he was driving to the hoop as he often did in his day. It was the last thing people saw, when they came to watch the 76ers play, right before they would entered through them doors. Chamberlain, was a legend of the sport of basketball and had an even more legendary work ethic. He was tireless in his own personal pursuit to perfecting his game.
And that’s when all the worries and self doubt, I had just been feeling just left. Those feeling were now replaced with a newly forged sense of determination and vigor. I was reminded of the days when a small indy wrestling company had took, Philly by storm, in the nineties. And how hardcore those fans were about their wrestling and how those superstars, fed off of that energy and left it all out there in the ring. Just like Wilt Chamberlain, left it all out there on the court every night.
The fans in Philly, would expect nothing less then perfection inside of that ring and I was damn sure going to be the one to give it to them. Because, I am “The King Of Old School”… “I AM The Tribute to The Golden Age of Wrestling!” “I AM WRESTLING!”
FIVE YEARS EARLIER
The scene opens as we find ourselves inside of a cold dank garage in Everett, Washington, about 25 miles from Seattle, Washington. A younger Byron Hicks is seen standing in one of the corners of the garage. He was there talking with Buddy Wayne. The two stood there for several moments, speaking with one another. The look of a deer caught in headlights expression was on Byron's face, as Buddy gave him the same speech he gave everyone that walked through that garage door.
Buddy: “Yes, this is Buddy Wayne’s Wrestling Academy and yeah this is all there is to it. It’s two hundred and fifty bucks upfront nonrefundable and twenty five dollars for each class after that. It may not look like much in here, but I’ll teach you what you need to know."
Byron: “This a garage? Your ad said…”
Buddy: “Forget what that ad said... Do you want to learn something or talk about exterior buildings all day? I don’t have time for this…”
Byron: ”No...No...I want to learn…”
Buddy: "One Hundred...Two...Hundred….Fifty. Yep, it's all there... Now go and get in there and let me see two hundred and fifty bumps, one for each dollar you paid to train in a garage; you blueberry."
Byron rolls into the ring and begins doing as instructed, as other members of the school clear the one and only ring. After about ten or so bumps Buddy, calls out to him…
Buddy: “Okay, Kid...Stop right, there!”
Byron picks himself up from off the mat and looks over the ropes and down to Buddy, who stood with his arms crossed.
Byron: “What? You said to do bumps? And that's what I’m doing, bumps!”
Buddy: “All your doing is falling down, that’s not a bump... Keep doing what you’re doing if you want too. But, you won’t be able to walk let alone work a match. Hey, you! Get in there and show him how to execute a proper bump.”
Buddy, signals to one of the other members of the class get in there and demonstrate. A older more heavyset gentleman, rolls in and jumps up and does what is asked of him before then turning and rolling back out to the outside.
Buddy: “Now let’s see you do one.”
Byron then executes what he thought he had just seen as Buddy, begins to scream lividly.
Buddy: “No! No! Wrong! Do it again...Again….Again...Almost...Again!”
This continues on for quite awhile before Byron, reaches what seems like maybe one hundred bumps in a row, before Buddy; finally calls out.
Buddy: “Good, one...Finally... Now only two hundred and forty nine left to go. Ha...Ha...Ha.”
The scene then fades to black.
