by The Immolator
Exclusive to OnlineOnslaught.com

"That’s why I kicked your leg out from under your… leg."
           — Owen Hart

Welcome back to The Ring. Immolator here. Weary of life… torn up and bruised. Yeah. Torn up and bruised.

Actually, not so weary. Sore, yes. Bruised, definitely. I’ve got a nasty one roughly the size and shape or Arkansas on my left bicep. But I’m jacked, baby dolls. After this past week, I feel privileged to have spent even this small amount of time in the ring, and I want more.

There’s one point I’d like to address before I deliver my progress report. A couple of weeks ago, I laid out my workout regimen for in-the-gym bodybuilding. If ya missed it, it’s twice a week, one set to failure. It’s not a heavy workout by any means, but it’s designed to break down the muscle and give it maximum time to heal, and thus grow. Here’s the catch, though: a big muscle is not necessarily a strong muscle. True strength comes from doing a whole frickin’ ton of repeated movements. Like in the movie “Conan the Barbarian,” where Conan was lashed to the mill wheel his entire childhood. Or, to bring us back to semi-reality, wrestlers in Japan. The dojos there are, reputedly, insane. Two straight hours of squats, then you have to do Mutoh’s laundry. Real strength. It’s something I need to develop. My legs are decent, but I’m thin across the chest wall, and doing more than 30 push-ups is difficult for me. Also, take a look at some of the wrestlers that have been injured or absent from TV for a while. They seem to come back with giant lats. Upper back work is crucial. For the most part, this is where you land.

As for yours truly, I had a great week. On Thursday, training with Disco was a delight. We started out with some games. One involved crawling around on hands and feet in a push-up position, trying to knock the opponent onto his stomach. Predictably, I didn’t last long. The second was a sumo-type game, with the goal to push the opponent from the center of the ring to the ropes. I fared much better there because of my leg strength and my deviousness. We learned cross-body blocks after that. Off the Irish Whip, from the second turnbuckle, and the reverse cross-body off the second. I was pleasantly surprised how well I was able to pop that last move. I felt like Jacques Rougeau… except he’s the master of the missed reverse cross-body. I only learned how to connect.

On Saturday’s at the House of Pain (or Sundays if ECCW has a Saturday show) we do a thing called “Warehouse Warz.” You may recall I did sound at one of the events, the day after I got a kendo stick to the back of the head. Well, at this event, I got my first taste of refereeing. My name for the evening? “Jason the Acceptable.”

Three matches were under my jurisdiction. The first was a three-way women’s elimination match featuring (I hope I get the names right) Kitty, Madison and Living Dead Girl. The match wasn’t quite bowling-shoe ugly, but it needed some work. But that’s all right, that’s what Warehouse Warz is for, to work on things in a live environment. Kind of like OVW. Madison pinned LDG and then Kitty.

Second match was between Sweet Daddy Devastation (for you video gamers, body and move set of Gangrel, head of RVD) and my fellow student, Jared. You remember him as the one we call “WWE.” He’s good. For visualization purposes, think a six-foot tall Eric Lindros. Jared wrestled under the name “Matt Clasic.” Get it? And that’s exactly what they delivered. Jared is smooth, and SDD has the earmarks of a ring general. He is aware of his environment and how he is moving through it when he wrestles. SDD got the win after a spinebuster. After the match, Jared apparently did a backflip from the top turnbuckle to the floor as part of his exit. I was already in the back, so I didn’t see it. He’s good.

Third match was for the NWA/ECCW Jr. Canadian Title. Challenger: Seth Knight. He’s a good joe. He gives a bit of a Jericho aura, with shades of Simon Diamond on the stick. Champion: Disco Fury. They went a solid 10-15 minutes before Disco retained via interference. I somehow managed to miss the run-in attack by The Gorilla (think Jungle Jim Steele on a diet of Hostess Fruit Pies) on Seth while I was attending to Disco on the outside. Funny thing, putting on the ref’s shirt: it seems to halve your IQ at key moments during a match.

Refereeing was a blast. It’s true when they say it takes three people in the ring to make a good (singles) match. It’s also the best seat in the house.

My only other lesson this past week, Number 14 of 50, was Wednesday with Starr as trainer. We did bodyslams, then Russian leg sweeps, then side slams. We also took a moment after the bodyslams to go over the Michinoku Driver. Actually, I guess it’s the MD II, as opposed to the MD 1991. Wrestling move nomenclature is a bit tricky. Growing up, I watched different shows, so I had everyone from Vince McMahon to Gorilla Monsoon to Tony Schiavone to various AWA types telling me the names of different moves, and the consistency was lacking. Consider the Russian leg sweep. I used to refer to it as a “neckbreaker” in my recaps, because that’s what I remembered Gorilla calling it. And I tended to favour calling moves by their anatomical descriptions rather than geographical or other nicknames. So, “belly-to-back suplex” instead of “German suplex,” and “cradle suplex” instead of ‘fisherman’s suplex.” You get the idea. Anyway, in the biz, it’s “Russian leg sweep.” I won’t even get into tope and plancha here.

Back to the wrestling. Side slams. Let me tell you something about side slams. They hurt like stink. The first one I took, drove the wind right out of me, rattled my bones, and left me lying in the ring like a used dishcloth. Holy hell. After I shook off the cobwebs, I took another one. Kee-ripes. I instinctively shot an arm out early to break my fall, but had the presence to bring it back before taking the bump. WHAMMO! More pain, but I was able to shake it off more quickly. The next time you see someone on the receiving end of a side slam, wince. Feel his or her pain. It’s not just wimpy guys like myself that hurt. All for the entertainment of our audience.

Say, did you see that mixed tag on RAW Monday? Read the recap if you didn’t. Something went amiss between Trish Stratus and Jackie Gayda. There were two blown spots, and I’m trying to work out in my mind what went wrong with the first. If I recall, Trish ran toward the ropes and just slid into them with no apparent motivation while Jackie kind of stood there. I think, perhaps, Trish was going for a Stratusfaction bulldog, but Jackie wasn’t aware of it. I’m not completely sold on that scenario, though, because they kept going for a while instead of repeating the spot. The second foul-up, the top-rope bulldog, it looked like Trish simply jumped too high and grazed the top of Jackie’s head. Jackie took the delayed-reaction bump. The consensus is that Jackie is heading for OVW post-haste. Maybe so. But it’s not always cut-and-dried as to who made the mistake during a botched spot. I don’t want to get too far into it, but let’s just say that communication is essential, and leave it at that.

Me… Immo loves the ladies. Trish has come a long way, and from my experience, I’d say that Jackie Gayda has already taken a lot of physical punishment just to get to where she is. Having said that, there’s no room on RAW for what happened Monday. It reminded me of the women’s match I refereed at the House of Pain, but with extra bowling shoe-ness.

As for Kevin Nash… another torn quad, just from moving across the ring? Either the WWE has the worst rings in the world, or some people have way too much muscle on their bodies for their frames to support. I didn’t think Kevin Nash was in that category. Still, after the pounding he has taken in his career, and at age 45 or whatever, maybe it just doesn’t take much for something bad to happen.

Well, another week in the wrestling life of The Immolator, in the books. Next week… I unveil my alter ego. I promise. It’s go time.

Peace.

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