I have always wanted to be a professional wrestler. At a very young age I didn’t just decide it would be a cool thing to do, rather the ONLY thing that I should do. As I grew up I was a bit of a late bloomer in every aspect. Video games about wrestling, Efeds, backyard wrestling and other forms wrestling entertaininment took control roundwhile I sat around dreaming to do it for real, but quitting before I ever gave it a try.
I was never happy with any job, because it wasn’t wrestling. I dropped out of college because my major wasn’t wrestling. I would cut promos heard only by the crickets in my head instead of focusing on work. Somehwere along the way, when I lost myself in the world of professional wrestling I lost myself in the real world.
Two years ago I maxed out at nearly 240 pounds. I wanted to try and become a cop so I was going to get fit. And the motivation was there finally, but the goal wasn’t really what I wanted. Nevertheless I spent a year getting into shape dropping weight. My eyesight prevented me from passing the physical and I kicked around the idea of training to be an EMT.
To afford these career goals I had taken a personal loan out, high interest, to pay for it. And after applying and waiting for my application to process for EMT training I heard a friend of mind who was know 32 years old is 8 months into pro wrestling training.
And it all came flooding back to me. The realization that nothing I ever try is going to work out until I try wrestling. He is 32, I am 29. If he can do it I can do it.
A week later I have a tryout scheduled. And now that the backstory is out of the way I have one more thing to add before getting into the journal of this tryout. When I was young and assumed that I would just. Be a wrestler one day, I decided to keep notebooks of my journy. Log crowd reactions, match results etc.
So now that I have passed the tryout and entered the world of pro wrestling I will journal the training process as well. Right here on the FAN.
I am going to copy my handwritten notes for the remainder of this piece, to demonstrate exactly what was running through my mind.
“I am a bundle of nerves. I want this. More than anything. This is my entire life’s dream. I’m worried. Am I too old? James Miller called me on Friday the 7th. My tryout was scheduled Monday at 5pm. I am here before 3pm. It is a 2 hour drive one way. The head Trainer is Brandon K. The building is behind a church, it’s a little run down. It reminds me 8 Mile. This is a ghetto. A very dangerous suburb of Pittsburgh. K leads me downstairs. My mind sees an old Smackdown v Raw story mode. Where your CAW starts in a dungeon of a gym. This is every bit of a dark danky dungeon.
I saw the ring, under lights surrounded by darkness. A beacon of heaven. He went upstairs and left me alone for about 30 minutes. I am convinced everything at this point is a test. What was I supposed to do? I stretch. He comes back and asks if I got in the ring. I say no. Was I supposed to? Could I have jumped in and played wrestler? I wanted to, but I thought it would be disrespectful.
He takes me outside and my tryout begins. It’s very light. I just have to run a mile around the complex. I can run a mile in my sleep. After he offers me a break. Again, I am wondering if this is a mental test. If it is I am determined to pass. I decline. Now comes the hard part.
I must do 150 squats, sit ups and push ups in any order I choose. I am given 20 minutes to do it. Plenty of time. This must be because they don’t expect me to pass. Giving me enough time time to fail and quit. To make it easier I did reps of 10. 10 squats, sit ups then push ups. K is keeping track so I don’t count. I begin to tire so I hammer through the squats and sit ups. I ended up doing about 10 more sit ups than I needed to because I am in the zone. Nothing exists not even Brandon K right now. Just me and my mission. I have to finish push ups. I have 15 minutes to do them. I go until I have 30 left. My body collapses.
He reminds me I have lots of time to take a break. This is a test I am sure of it. I force myself up and do 10 more. My body gives out. Now I am struggling to even do one more. 10 left…5..3…and complete.
The hardest thing I have ever done. I completed it with time to spare. K tells me 80 percent of people fail this part of the tryout. He offers a break. This time I take it.
Next I am shown rolls. Foward, backward and a lucha roll leading with my left and across the ring. I pass. It took a few tries to get right. I nailed the luch rolls immediately.
This completes the tryout. I have passed. We fill some paperwork out. By this time some others have shown up. Established wrestlers who remain part of the gym to practice and such. They applaud and welcome me. One tells me he failed the first time back in 99. And jokes it took 5 attempts, but really only 2.
They tell me to stcik around and watch their process. I accept. At the very beginning I was given a speech about wanting this and needing heart. To do this you have to love it. I showed him a wwf bandanna I bought in 1992 that I brought with me to remind me of how long I have wanted this.
One wrestler, who introduceed himself as Sean tossed me his phone and had me take pics of him on the turnbuckle. Am I being ribbed? Things to remember. Shake everyone’s hand when I enter and exit the room. No matter what they are doing. And always wipe my feet before I enter the ring.”
For the first month he wants me there just one day a week, Wednesdays. After that twice a week. Monday being the second day, and more if I can make it. I have accepted 8 hours minimum a week of travel time. A full tank of gas and 2000 dollars taken out to pay for EMT training. I have put all of my eggs into this basket. This is time away from my son. A potential crack in my marriage.
As I wrote this my wife called and complained about it. She is “already done with this wrestling thing”…
Next entry Day One