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  1. #1
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    Taste My Rainbow ~ If I Were a Wrestler...


    If I Were a Wrestler...
    ________________________








    Welcome back to the column that pads the hard hitting questions with fluff - Taste My Rainbow.





    If I were a wrestler, I’d need to undergo a dramatic physical transformation. The difference between my current diet and Heavy Machinery’s steak and weights regiment is practically Knight and Doz. At 140 pounds soaking wet, I couldn’t even deliver a decent rainmaker without the crowd showering me in ridicule. Therefore I’d test the waters by hitting the gym with a case of Poland Spring and probably break a sweat just carrying it in. I possess the physique of Colin Delaney but the hairstyle of a Tyler Bate because I’m a hipster and the Brits are trendy bastards. At the risk of getting sued, I’d adopt the name “Goonie Walsh” on the indies as a tribute to the greatest movie ever made. Plus not only is my upper body covered in tattoos of that ilk but it suits my childish complex.



    All kidding aside, I’d strive to land somewhere between Matt Cross and Daniel “Wrestling Jesus” Bryan on the bulk scale. Reality however is that I’m a clown with cosmetics and would emerge from the curtain resembling a pasty version of rapper 6ix9ine (research him at your own peril). At least that part of my presentation is fixable though. I’m a lost cause vocally thanks to sounding like a mix between Michael Cera and Leslie Jordan. You’re not masking these velvety tones; not even with the aid of mute Kane’s voice-box. So suffice to say, it’s highly doubtful I’d achieve much success in podcasting once my in-ring career concluded. Not even Sam Roberts would take me seriously and it’s still real to him 35 years later.



    If I were a wrestler, I’d better conquer my fear of flying since weekly air travel falls under the job description. Odd that I’ve developed a phobia of plummeting out of the sky as an adult considering my daredevil tendencies as a teenager (damn you Jeff Hardy). Regardless, my fight or flight dilemma would be dealt with one way or another because I plan on going places in this profession. Not only in America but all across the world. Experience what lies outside of New England because the truth is I’m not getting any younger. My goal would be working in a variety of venues, from bingo halls to sports stadiums. To work for every promotion in existence whether it be one month, one match or one moment. To compete at an Ultima Lucha, Final Battle, Bound for Glory, Wrestle Kingdom and beyond.



    All while marketing Goonie Walsh to the masses and further building my brand. In an industry dominated by ego and tough talk, I’d play to my strengths: word manipulation and self-deprecating humor (so basically a suburban Enzo). I’d gladly serve as a laughing stock while sizing up my opponent; right before using said shenanigans to slapstick him by surprise once the bell rang. My wrestling style would be mostly ground based but I’d take to the sky when necessary. Tie the guy in knots, lace him with chops, dropkick his chest blisters and even throw in a stinger splash. Joe Schmo’s pecs would be as lit as the audience in theory... Then I’d wake up looking at the lights ala Pete Gas while some oxygen starved musclehead poses for the crowd.



    If I were a wrestler, it’d become apparent pretty quickly that growing pains accompany such passions. With a schedule that demanding, issues are bound to surface. Injuries, fragmented relationships, pain pill addictions and other methods to numb the numerous aches. That’s why I’d surround myself with good friends and family to ensure that I didn’t walk away from wrestling with scars as deep as Sabu’s. Health and happiness are more vital to me than shock value so don’t expect any videos of Goonie in his mid 50’s lighting himself on fire. Not saying I wouldn’t resort to cheap tricks for a pop but mine would ideally be more of the (Madison Square) garden variety. Wrestling may be a mirrage to some but I see it as an oasis that will live on forever. It’s also the theme track of my life which is why I’d use it as entrance music.










    The beating of that tune in my eardrums would prepare me for the war set to be waged inside the ring. Simply having the opportunity to learn the ropes from my various heroes would be worth the bumps and lumps alone. Performing in front of people whether they love me, hate me or can’t stand me enough to rise out of their seats. The sense of accomplishment that comes from knowing at least a few fans in attendance purchased a ticket to watch you wrestle (who cares if it’s due to being relatively new and undiscovered). Enjoy the ride while it lasts because some days you’re the bug, some days you’re the windshield and some days you’re the dude who’s head went splat after botching that 450 table spot. Yeesh, perhaps I should just steal Flash Morgan’s Evel Knievel gimmick and use it as an excuse to wrestle in a helmet.



    If I were a wrestler, NXT would be my desired destination because the Performance Center is essentially a college campus for indie darlings. Not to mention Walt Disney World’s right next door. You let it rip for 2-4 years until graduating and being thrust ass backwards into the monotonous cycle that is WWE’s main roster. Upon signing with the company, Goonie Walsh would politely inform Triple H that there’s no altering his name and then I’d show up at Full Sail six months later as Mikey Shipwreck. Or even worse, the son of The Goon if I pissed Hunter off enough. But despite knowing very little about hockey, I’d do everything in my power to make the character my own; even if it led to literal hat tracks before matches and tossing pucks into the crowd.



    Taped shows don’t strike me as being all that fun - especially when you’ve gotta reshoot segments - but when a scene’s performed perfectly in the first take, it’s magic. The episode where Gargano reveals himself as Aleister’s attacker for example was brilliantly executed and remains my favorite highlight of 2018. Hell, the entire angle up until that point was great but the image of Black furiously asking Regal “WHERE IS HE!?” and then receiving his answer in the form of a blindside superkick gave me goosebumps like a prepubescent bookworm. I vividly recall the thrill of watching it unfold at home and tried to imagine what that must’ve felt like for the parties involved. With adrenaline being the wonder drug that it is, Johnny and Aleister must’ve been on a Matt Riddle-esque high that night. A trip I’m desperate to experience and lose myself in. It’s crazy how possessive wrestling can be when it seizes control of your senses.



    If I were a wrestler, Goonie would beg Vince’s middle men to book him in a ladder match (preferably at ‘Mania) merely to indulge a fantasy that’s been bouncing around in his subconscious since the first couple MITB classics. Standing atop one of those excessively tall ladders while reaching for an irrelevant title when it’s suddenly pushed over and sends poor Walsh crashing through a ringside announce table. Call me a spot monkey all you want but the “oohs” and “aahs” of the thousands spectating would totally be worth the label. Keep in mind I’m not even interested in winning the damn belt! I’d suggest it simply to feel that rush of adrenaline… and then sit idly by while they awarded the spot to Lio. That’s if he hasn’t completely crawled up Lashley’s asscrack by then.










    Even if the higher-ups denied my lofty request, I would do my absolute best to stick out from the crowd. That means constantly tweaking my appearance and never cutting the same promo no matter how repetitive WWE’s programming becomes. And while everybody clamored to wrestle Seth Rollins and AJ Styles, I’d ask to work with the likes of Big Show and Braun because of the extreme dynamic it presents. Massive giants such as those two are often deemed slow and boring but any big oaf can captivate onlookers if his matches are structured correctly. Press slam me over the ropes and sternum first onto the steel steps. Catch me by the neck off a springboard and hit a chokeslam. Beat me with a chunk of plywood from under the ring if it draws a reaction. Just don’t be a sloth! Innovation is key and I’m creative to a fault. We’d have fans salivating as if Brock was soliciting Sable for sex to strangers (and Mrs. Lesnar would still go in the Hall of Fame before me).



    If Josh Keegan were truly a wrestler, he wouldn’t have given up on his dreams all those years ago. Had I completed my wrestling training back in 2007 and kept progressing thru the ranks, who knows? You could be watching me today on TV or some other social media platform. Possibly as a top gaijin in the Bullet Club but probably a nobody whose limbs are shot to shit. Regrets linger under the skin like a “No Regerts” tattoo and this remains my biggest one to date as we head into 2019. If I had pursued a pro wrestling career, the stubborn prick in me would hopefully (and this applies to the columnist as well) be wise enough to leave or retire when it stopped being fun. He’d also avoid the pettiness of politics and give back to the business that made him a fanboy 20+ years ago.



    But before doing so, I’d track down Asuka because - even a decade after going the Karl Anderson route - I still have a weakness for hot Asian women. Of course it dawned on me that the reigning SmackDown Women’s Champion might be a bit out of my league and, if so, that’s okay. This lowly jobber has no problem proposing to Kairi or Shirai who *fingers crossed* view it as less of a culture clash and more of a mixed match challenge.





    Love,
    SkitZ... <3







  2. #2
    Forgotten Ponder Super Hoody's Avatar
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    You're my boy, Skitz

  3. #3
    The Brain
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    If it's any consolation, I feel like wrestling chews up and spits out the majority of people who try to get in with nothing to show for it. But I get it, the road not traveled is a hell of a thing. I'd have bought a ticket to see you my friend, but I'm just happy having you around here, glad you didn't get too many concussions to work your computer a la Mick Foley!

  4. #4
    Member #25 SirSam's Avatar
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    There are some fantastic lines in this man. I think it is something we have all thought about but you stretched it out to a full column. My avatar here is Scott Dawson because he is pretty much my kindred spirit right down to the bald head and nugget physique. He even has the beard I'd have if I didn't work in customer facing where I'm required to not look like a biker. So yeah, I live vicariously through him and would probably end up having a gimmick that is fairly similar because I've always been more about the substance over style output in sport, writing and work.

    I too eyed off wrestling training a few times, even had my mate who is a wrestler take me through some basics but having seen the wear and tear on his body I'm kinda glad it never got beyond a few bumps and chopping each other in the chest. I actually stopped playing rugby because of personal concerns about the amount of times I got concussed so wrestling probably wouldn't have been a great option when it comes to preserving the ol' noggin.

    Being a wrestler would be a fun blend of acting and physical performance. The best guys have the same skills as the best actors, commitment to character so ylthr actor fades into the background and the character is all you see.

    Interesting that you dream of doing a ladder spot, having stood at the top of an 12ft ladder and looked down I can assure you it is not something I'd ever want to jump. Off but then again perhaps the adrenaline and thrill of the moment would carry you off it.

    Anyway, great stuff as always. All the best with finding Asuka's number.
    Last edited by SirSam; 01-01-2019 at 12:58 AM.

  5. #5
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    Randall: And your non-feedback commentary is always appreciated. Who would've predicted that you'd be writing for the Main Page in 2019 while I slummed it in the Columns Forum? What sort of sorcery is this!?


    Mizfit: Haha me too. I nearly gave myself a goddamn concussion taking a back bump on my buddy's trampoline the other day (luckily it was only whiplash). In some ways this was an extension of that column I posted a year and a half ago about trying my hand at wrestling. It was something I needed to write at some point and this seemed as fitting a time as any to get said thoughts out of my system. Now let's go apply for positions on AEW's creative team.


    Sam: Yeah obviously we've all daydreamed about becoming a pro wrestler; everything from the name to the move set. This column would've read a lot differently had I posted it years ago (as one big fantasy booking post no doubt) but maturity alters your perception of what's important. Fun fact - I played rugby for two years in high school! Those were fun times and, looking back now, I wish I'd applied that same worry-free attitude to wrestling training. After ringing my bell on the mat a few times, I couldn't scurry out of that place fast enough.



  6. #6
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    Ah, the road not travelled. It always sucks to look back at what could have been. But hey, at least your body won't end up banged up and you needing pain killers to wash away the years upon years of bumps. Silver lining? Perhaps not, even so it does no good to think of what could have been. Hey, at least you gave wrestling school a try, right?

    Loved this column Skitz.

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