by The Immolator
Exclusive to OnlineOnslaught.com

"I'm so mean, I make medicine sick."  -- Muhammad Ali.

It ain't Wagner, but it's still The Ring. Sing along with me, now. My name is "The Immolator" Calum Macbeth, and I like to hurt people.

It's been another one of those weeks. Last Saturday, I had the pleasure of wrestling a gentleman from Washington State by the name of Al Ghore. Physically, a bit smaller than Norman the Lunatic, but definitely a super-heavyweight. It was quite a challenge coming up with things that I could do to him. I worked the leg almost entirely. I tried a Boston Crab, and, swear to Lou Thesz, it was like trying to turn over a Corolla. Which was fine, because I changed it into a single-leg, and everything made sense, in the smaller-guy-finds-ways-to-bring-down-bigger-guy scheme of things. I also worked in my devastating head butt to the groin. Devastating to me, that is. You see, my right knee is still bothering me, so I put my right hand out to the mat to cushion some of the blow of the landing, and jammed my right middle finger in the process. Yee-owtch.

No worries, though. I finished the match. Non-presidential candidate Ghore beat me with the kata hajime, or "Pleased to choke you" in English. X-rays are pending on the finger, but I don't think it's broken. Just my pride.

Actually, my pride is especially sore this week. I'm out of action. It's not the knee. It's not the finger. It's the flu, or at least a nasty cold. Hard to tell these days, but whatever it is, it's not something I'd wish on my fellow wrestlers. So I'm taking the week off. I hope that will accelerate the healing process on my knee, because I'm getting pretty damn frustrated with it.

I want to fly across that ring. I just spent the better part of a day watching the Super J-Cup, 2000 version. To my amazement, I found myself singing that song again: "I can do that." There was a lot more matwork than the last time I saw guys like Jushin Liger and Men's Teioh. Granted, Liger had a broken neck, so no more shooting star presses for that guy. But his finishing move... a palm strike? Good Lord...

I'll tell you who really stood out in that tournament: Curry Man, aka "Fallen Angel" Christopher Daniels. First of all, I nearly coughed up my spleen laughing. The guy's got a curry on his head. He's crazy Curry Man. Give him some crazy candy. "I'm hot, I'm spicy, I taste great..." Pure gold. But the way he moves in the ring... he's like buttah. He makes me want to hop out of my chair and try a moonsault. Hot damn.

Speaking of Japan, it's about 99.9% certain the wife is off to Hokkaido. Unfortunately for me, the job offer she appears to have locked up is not in Sapporo itself, but about 100km(62 miles) away in a place called Asahikawa. Beautiful ski resort, apparently, population 300,000 or so. Suffice to say, it might be difficult to keep up my little wrestling hobby once I'm over there. It will depend on how easily and how often I can get to Sapporo, and whether an indy fed like Asian Sports will take pity on a poor, old hakujin like Yours Truly. There's always grappling-style martial arts, I suppose, and perhaps I would be able to pick up wrestling again somewhere down the road.

Meanwhile, I have a short-term plan in mind. NWA-ECCW has booked The Honky Tonk Man in February. That would be right about the same time I would vamos for Japan. Longtime readers may recall my training began the week Honky was last in town. So, it may be that the planets align and my wrestling "career," or at least this chapter of it, begins and ends with Honky.

Sweet.

In the meantime, and in between time... peace.

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