Sunday Thoughts ....



“Learning how to work”

Life lessons are sometimes learned in the strangest of ways. If you are a frequent flyer of the bWb wrestling page, you already know that on the weekends, I have my two and five year old daughters. This sometimes gets in the way of watching an indie super card, but I’d have it no other way. Well, I mean, I’d have them every day, if It were up to me, but that’s a life lesson for another day.

Earlier today I was watching highlights of NXT TAKEOVER when my oldest daughter sat next to me and asked what I was watching. She sat next to me and was engrossed with it for about three minutes - the only thing that really keeps her attention is Youtuber Azzy. I’m not going to lie - I don't mind watching Azzy with her.

Anyways, about two hours later, she walked up to me and looked me in the eyes and said, “Five minutes, it’s battle time,” and walked away. It was about a minute later when I heard her in the bedroom warming up for “battle” that I realized she’d just cut a promo on me.

A poorly put together promo, succinct granted, but not in anyway pushing the viewer to buy into the match. About a minute later, she came back out. “You know, in three minutes, I’m about to take you downtown and make you look like a clown,” I said to her. Clearly, I owned her on the mic.However, she had dropped an unforeseen bombshell on me: Her sister was just added to the “battle”. Now i was scared. Her sister, two years old, shows no signs of any sort of fear -  I once saw her roll herself down the steps because she was bored. BORED. 

They came at me with the usual flippy flop maneuvers that an inexperienced human would come at you in a moment of battle. I sold everything. I was Don West at a flea market selling fly swatters. Every so often, I’d get a tickle in on one of them - and they would scream that that was an illegal move. So now i’m the heel, selling everything? Who booked this garbage. 

Finally, their constant body shots to my ribs with their tiny little feets and their tiny little hands were too much for my out of shape, forty-two year-old body could handle - mainly, I had to pee from laughing so hard.

But it dawned on me - the world of wrestling needs both of these elements to go forward. We need the green, not scared of dying, wrestlers and we need the I refuse to leave my comfort zone because one day i’m going to save the life of one of these fucking crazy bastards in this business. Just keep the tickling out of wrestling. We wouldn’t want to further upset the gentle mind of Jim Cornette.

On second thought … 

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