I, to this very day, have an uncompromising LOVE for professional wrestling. When I was younger, my brother and I would re-enact wrestling maneuvers we had seen on television. We would put matches on in my living room and all throughout the neighborhood. This was right around the time World Wrestling Entertainment started releasing their “Please, DO NOT try this at home” commercials. I would think to myself “What a crock, how am I supposed to become a pro wrestler if I don’t practice.” At this point in my life, I was merely a wide-eyed 10-year-old, full of hope and the belief that one day I would be on that screen.
On one particular summer day, my brother and I were engaged in a back and forth brawl that saw countless momentum changes. As I started to gain more steam and take control of the match, my brother resorted to dirty tactics. First, he knocked the ref out and then proceeded to hit me with a low blow. Then, he went searching for something, anything. What he found was a cookie sheet that must have had my name on it. 13 shots to the head later and my younger, but much larger brother Jonathan had rested the West 70th World Heavyweight Championship from my grasp.
Fast forward a few weeks, there I was sitting on that cold examination table for the doctor to walk in the room. The moment right before the doctor enters the room and examines you can be both boring and nerve racking. For instance, my mother was always a nervous wreck about everything. She felt this was a suitable time to chew her fingernails all the way down to the skin, causing blood to flow from the tips of her fingers. I looked at my mom and said “I hope the doctor doesn’t take too long, so we can get this show on the road. The Double Loop isn’t going to ride itself.” I heard the sound of knocking on the door and braced myself for what was to come.
In walks the doctor with this impassive look on his face. For the sake of this article, we will call him Dr. O. He was a short, slightly overweight middle-eastern man who smelled like cheap cologne and had a disgusting fascination with staring at my mother’s obnoxiously large breasts right in front of me. As soon as Dr. O saw my mother, a floodgate of joy opened up on his face. He greeted my mother with a hug and it was at this time that I discovered they knew each other. Apparently, my mother had worked in his doctor office prior to my birth. “This should be a great time.” I thought to myself.
After 20 minutes of them playing grab ass, Dr. O finally decided to exam his patient. He took one look at the bump on top of my head and said “This is no good. That is a blood clot.” Then, he proceeded to drop what had been the worst news I received in my life up to that point. "Sorry, but no Geauga Lake for you today. " he said. NOOOOOOOOOO! My world was destroyed. Not only did my brother take my title that day, he was able to forever lay claim to the fact that he rode a roller coaster first. Kids, Please do not try pro wrestling at home.