by The Immolator
Exclusive to OnlineOnslaught.com

"Locate your sphincter!" — Road Warrior Hawk

Welcome back to The Ring. Immolator here, aka Calum Macbeth. Hey, check this out: it’s time, once again, to reach waaaay down and grab…

THE IMMOLATOR’S GIANT SACK of mail. Response to this column has been quite positive. Especially two weeks ago when The Rick put up a picture of Trish Stratus to intro my column and left it as the feature for the whole weekend. Sweet.

Some letters were in response to the Trish/Jackie Gayda match that went, well, mammalian protuberances up. A certain G. Platt of Parts Unknown (probably Baton Rouge) thinks that the second blown spot happened because Trish delivered the top-rope bulldog with the left arm instead of the right, which confused Jackie. I haven’t learned the bulldog yet, so I can’t give a definite answer. But an astute viewer will note that there is a certain handedness to what happens in the ring.

A certain B. McKague of Parts Unknown (possibly Etobicoke, Ontario. Also, one of the more intelligent posters on the OO Message Boards) believes the first blown move was an attempt by Trish to deliver some kind of flapjack that the women on SD! have been using a lot. I’ve missed a whole lot of SD! this past couple of months due to my lessons at the House of Pain, so again, I am out to lunch on this one. Notice how they came right back the next week with Trish v. Molly, though.

A certain T. Walters of Grove City, Ohio (his identity has already been blown) responded in regards to my observation that side slams hurt like stink. Which they do. He wants to know what other moves “actually” hurt. Well, this is going to sound like a cop out, but it’s true: they all hurt. With a submission move, the more you squeeze, the harder it hurts. With any move where you take a bump, the more air you get, the harder it hurts. Gravity always wins in the end.

A certain D. Crawford of Kamloops, British Columbia (Kamloops! My favourite breakfast cereal!) wants to be a professional wrestler, and wants to know an affordable way of doing it. Well, to be honest, I don’t think there is one. The House of Pain is one of the best values in wrestling instruction out there, and it still costs $2,000 Canadian, or about $1,300 U.S. Then there is the question of boots (about US$100 off the rack, if you’re lucky to get a pair off the rack like I did), tights (I still don’t have mine yet) and jumbo-size tubs of Aspirin. I was only able to pursue this little dream of mine because I have finally gotten to the point in my life where I can afford it.

On that note, I’d like to point out something about what I’m doing. Even with the progress I seem to be making in my classes, the chances of me ever wrestling professionally as my sole career are about as slim as I am (6’, 180lbs). Anyone who wants to pursue this should treat it like hopefuls in any sport would. Whether it’s baseball, basketball, football, hockey or Australian Rules Parcheesi, there are only a few elite young athletes that can pretty much bank on their chosen sport. The mantra for the rest of them is “make sure you have something to fall back on.” That means education and smart career choices. But it doesn’t mean giving up on your dream. For every A-Rod, there’s a hundred Luis Sojos, and a thousand Eddie Zoskys.

There’s also a lot of jobs in the wrestling world besides getting your ass kicked on a regular basis. Sound guy is one of them, of course. I’ve covered that one fairly well. Refereeing is another. I worked some more matches last Saturday at the House of Pain show, and my officiating (as “Jason The Acceptable”) has drawn some praise. I’ve been told I have the natural ring presence of a ref. I was even asked to work this Friday’s ECCW card, including the Asian Cooger v. Black Dragon match. Suh-weet, except I have to work that day. D’oh! To be in the ring with two highly talented performers like that… well, maybe next time.

Lessons have been going very well. On Tuesday with Bubba, only myself and a student we call “Yak” (about 5’11”, 225lbs solid) showed up, which meant lots of extra attention. We worked on exchanging holds, the bread-and-butter of the business. Chain wrestling, if you wee-ul. Fantastic workout. I got to use some of what I learned the next day with Starr’s class, which included more matches. After learning how to take back body drops (scary) and working on some double-team moves (double clothesline, double back elbow), we split off into singles matches. I got to play heel to Jared, aka Matt Classic. He did a very good job of styling a match, and I followed his lead. Here’s how it went, more or less, Classic v. Macbeth.

Macbeth comes out and taunts the crowd, pointing out the poor hygiene of one poor soul. F’nar. Classic follows, getting big pops from the three or four in attendance. “Wild Bill” Coltrane is the referee. Tie-up, Classic with a standing wristlock, into a hammerlock, into a side headlock. Spinning headlock into another hammerlock. Macbeth snap mares out, but gets caught in a side headlock takedown. Macbeth tries to roll Classic up for the pin, two count. And again for two, but Classic maintains the hold. Macbeth reverses into a head scissors, but Classic is able to pop out. Staredown ensues. Macbeth tells the ref Classic pulled his hair and his tights. F’nar. Lock up again. Side headlock by Classic. Pushed off into the ropes, shoulder tackle by Classic. Off the far ropes, Macbeth drops down, gets back up, misses the clothesline, gets nailed by a Classic clothesline on the rebound. Clothesline. Back Elbow. Bodyslam. Macbeth powders outside the ring. Ref count goes to seven before Macbeth rolls back in, but then he rolls out again. Classic’s had enough, he chases Macbeth back into the ring, but Macbeth stomps on Classic as he tries to follow. Side headlock. Macbeth gets Classic into the corner. Chop (wooo!) And again (wooo!) But Classic turns the tables with chops of his own. Irish whip out of the corner, reversed by Macbeth, reversed again by Classic, but Macbeth holds his ground and fires him into the same corner. Side headlock takedown. Macbeth picks up Classic, Irish whip, Classic ducks the clothesline, eats a knee to the gut. Legdrop. Side headlock again. Pick up, Irish Whip, Macbeth goes for a back body drop, but Classic turns it into a sunset flip. One… two… kickout. Macbeth flattens Classic with a clothesline. Pick up, Irish, Macbeth ducks the head AGAIN (silly Scot), gets kicked in the gut. DDT! Now both men are down. Ref count goes to seven before Macbeth gets up first. He goes for a punch, but Classic blocks it. Punch, punch, punch, Irish Whip, now Classic ducks the head, eats the boot… Michinoku Driver by Macbeth! One… Two… Th… no! Classic kicks out a two-and-seven-eighths. Macbeth is livid. He goes for a clothesline, ducked by Classic, into a go-behind. Classic runs Macbeth into the ropes, rolls him up… and gets the pin!

Call it six-to-seven minutes. A nice little match that we pulled off with only a minor screw-up. Jared is money in the ring, so fluid. Me, I still need some work, but getting through this match was a revelation. It told me, “Hey, you can do this.”

On that happy note, time to hit the aspirin. See you next week. Same Macbeth time, same Macbeth channel.

Peace.

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