My Professional Wrestling Debut Experience

As I slowly trudge my way into Wootton Hall’s changing room, I know full well that a childhood dream is about to be fulfilled.

The thick smell of body odour overwhelms the senses in the claustrophobic dressing room, and the predominant sensation of nerves are halted momentarily as the fellow partakers begin to converse. The rising heat of the room corroborates the tense atmosphere and the nerves once again begin to kick in as the clock counts down. Dense beads of sweat begin to drip from my gelled hairline. My custom-made silver trunks are pulled up my restless legs and secured around my waist. Their shimmer matches my skin as oil is lathered over my shoulders and beneath. “This is it” I think to myself. And so, begins the countdown clock to the first chapter in my professional wrestling career.

Right knee pad. Left knee pad. Right boot. Left boot. The wrist tape struggles to stay as the sweat on my wrists weaken its grip, along with the grease on my fingers from my hair wax. The tape is finally secured and, instantaneously, a warm piece of paper fresh from the printer swiftly glides into my hand. It’s the match card. The paper rustles as my fingers tremble and my eyes scan the sheet, looking for my name. Joe vs. Logi - Winner: Joe. Mountains of goose bumps on my forearm act as a wakeup call; “you’re making your debut” I say to myself. “You’re winning.”

An electrifying atmosphere greeted my theme song as I stood behind the curtain awaiting to burst through on the anticipated electric guitar drop. Seconds feel like hours. The bass of the song is rippling through my insides which coexists with my unbearable palpitations. The wrestlers circle me like a colossal colony of feasting sharks, harshly slapping my back in encouragement. Black Eyes by Bradley Cooper blasts throughout the hall, echoing from ceiling to wall; but I hear nothing. Nothing but my own voice in my head rehearsing each move of the match over again. Lights flash through the curtain hole - which match the exact beat of the drum. It’s show time.

My instinct takes over as I burst through the curtain and completely take in what is one of the most dreamlike experiences of my life. “Go Joe” chants ring around the squared circle as my name is introduced. My sweaty palms meet those of fans as I slowly patrol down the entrance ramp – being sure not to stumble. I grab a sign that coincides with the chants as it reads “Go Joe” and hoist it into the air, which is greeted with cheers from spectators.

The match begins.

An array of slams onto the tired and tough ring surface wound and inflame the skin on my back; nevertheless, despite the discomfort, the match is as fluent as a dance. Spit flies as the bottom of my heel rapidly connects with the jaw of my opponent, like a cannonball colliding with a ship. One. Two. Three. A deafening sea of cheers shock my body and make my jaw water.

As if a burn was doused by an ice cube, the inordinate sense of relief I have as the bell rings is monumental. I did it, and I’d do it all over again.

#Wrestling #WWE #TNA #NJPW #AEW #Evolution