From the Private Journal of Wendy Briese
1-17-2014
Samantha Star is a genius.
Never in my wildest mind would I envision that the woman who masterminded the Power Trip would come up with the most un-Power Trip solution to all of FFW’s problems. She basically mentioned on Twitter a policy of anothe promotion- that if a wrestler walked out in the middle of the match, they would be docked half their pay because the fans only got to see half a match.
That’s a great idea, but why not expand it? Disqualifications, interference, and blatant cheating, they all ruin matches just as much as someone rolling out of the ring and walking to the back. So why not institute a half-day fine for those infractions as well?
This policy could be just the shot in the arm our sport needs. Too many times great matches have been ruined by an outside force or by a cowardly participant too afraid of losing. Even worse is that there are very rarely consequences for acting like that, while the true ones that suffer are the ones who tried to do things the right way.
So why not take the fight to them? Why not hurt those who malign our sport in the way that hurts them the most- in the pocketbook? Give them real consequences, isntead of mere threats and more opportunities to exploit their malfeasance? I know I would welcome it, and so would many ohters.
The only problem is that I’m not sure Ms. Star is entirely on board with the idea herself. Or that even if she was, she could legally impose such a stiff penalty without an allotted clause in our contracts.
Which means that true change is going to have to likely come from us- the locker room. If I can come up with a petition, I know a lot of the women will sign. I know it wouldn’t be unanimous- those who profit from the current system would be loathe to see it disappear. But if I can get enough- at least half, maybe we can get the ball rolling on something being done.
It’ll be a tough feat to do in the coming weeks, given that my primary focus needs to be getting ready for the main event at One Night Stand. But in a way, I am preparing by getting this rule enacted. After all, the last three matches I’ve been in had involved outside interference. After my dream match with Val got ruined, I couldn’t bear for this, the ultimate test of the best women in FFW, to be ruined by outside interference as well.
No, this initiative needs to get enacted. Now. For me. For Scarlett. For Val. For Misty. For Eileen. For everyone who’s here just wanting to wrestle, and not have to deal with all the BS that only muddles thing.
It’s time to make wrestling about wrestling again.
- Wendy.
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Thursday January 23, 2014
U.S. Highway 41- Thompson Family RV
Deerfield, Illinios
1:31 PM Local Time
“What?!” Terrence Thompson demanded. Even driving the RV in the heavy North Chicago Traffic, he hadn’t missed the unmistakeable glare his wife had just shot him.
“You were willing to drop six hundred thousand dollars on this RV without consulting me. You were willing to spend a hundred thousand dollars on an abandoned race track without consulting me.”
“Yeah, so?” Terrence replied defensively. “This RV has served us well for nearly four years now, and you seem to love that shed I GAVE you for a training facility! So what’s your point?”
“My point is why can’t you spend twenty bucks so we can use the stupid TOLL ROAD?”
“Because the Tri-State Tollway is a SHAM, Wendy.” Terrence shot back. “It’s what they want you to use so they can line their pockets with our hard earned cash. Not my fault I’ve beaten their stupid system.”
“Sitting in traffic for THREE HOURS is beating the system?” Wendy exclaimed. “We sat on the Dan Ryan ‘Expressway’ for so long I managed to read Dan Ryan’s entire life story in the meantime! I know him well enough to where I could invite him for dinner!”
“Oh. Are you?”
“NO! He died fifty-three years ago! Probably sitting on his stupid highway!”
“But twenty dollars richer!” Terrence pointed out smugly.
Wendy glanced back at Theresa, who was still sleeping in the back, just as she had been thorugh the majority of traffic. Smiling slightly, she turned forward, dropping her pleasant demeanor to shoot another deathglare at her husband.
“Oh, don’t give me that,” Terrence said. “We’re moving, we’re almost to the Wisconsin border, where we’ll hook up with 94, and then we’re onto Milwaukee!”
“Hmmph.” Wendy replied, turning back to her laptop, and typing, her brow furrowing in concentration. For several minutes, the RV was quiet, save for the occasional bump or murmuring of Theresa in her sleep.
“What are you working on?” Terrence casually asked, breaking the silence.
“Huh? Oh, this petition I’m going to present to the locker room at One Night Stand. The one that issues half-pay fines for wrestlers who intentionally ruin matches.”
“Oh. Right. That.” Terrence deadpanned, not quite able to keep from rolling his eyes. “I thought you were going to have Pollaski take care of that.”
“I was. Except he refused to do it.”
“He refused to do it.” Terrence asked, trying his hardest to look surprised.
“Well, first he laughed in my face.” Wendy sighed. “Said I’m just wasting my time and that I’d be lucky to get three signatures. Including my own.”
“Hunh. Imagine that.” Terrence said, his eyes straight ahead and never leaving the road.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Wendy demanded, bristling.
“Oh, nothing,” Terrence began innocently. “Just that…” He paused. “Just that… he’s kind of right, hon. I’m sorry but he is. Do you honestly think anyone in FFW is going to sign an agreement that is going to get their paycheck cut, especially in half?”
“It won’t be THEIR paycheck, Terry. Not if they follow the rules and don’t screw up matches.”
“Except what if somebody interferes on their behalf without their permission? Are you really going to fine them even if they had nothing to do with it?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Wendy replied. “If the rule-followers are willing to show that they will sacrifice for… incidents, it will make things all the better.”
“Okay, so half our paycheck for Anarchy is gone, now.” Terrence said.
“I know.” Wendy snapped back, suddenly irritated. “But it would be worth it, right? Because Camilla would ALSO have her pay cut, and she’d learn not to do something like that ever again.”
“Or, you know, maybe she’d think that snapping Val in half and putting you on notice is ALSO worth half a night’s paycheck. You both have considerable money anyways, so you can afford to be fined. What about the new talent?”
“Well, all the better reason for them to-”
“Like Kinsey? You know, the girl who ‘wrecked’ a match by running out of it because your brother beat the hell out of her husband? You really want her freaking out in the hospital over his health, only to receive a call from Cody saying “sorry about your husband, now half your pay’s docked?’ And the kicker is, Jess wouldn’t have been fined, because she didn’t do anything in the ring.”
Wendy bit her lip, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I suppose we could add a clause that allows for appeals and amnesty at the discretion of Ms. Star and Mr. Kincaid.”
“Which will immediately create claims of favoritism, and people whining about why HER fine gets overturned when they have to pay theirs.” Terrence pointed out.
“You already get that with idiots like Savage,” Wendy countered. “Those of us who actually don’t expect preferential treatment know that Mr. Kincaid and Ms. Star would be fair.”
“For now, maybe,” Terrence argued. “But what if Ms. Star one day decided that the Power Trip ws better for business after all, and started repealing all their fines? Or started adding more infractions to screw over people she didn’t like? Or what if somehow Amanda Saint got in charge again?”
“Okay, seriously. Amanda Saint is NEVER going to be anywhere near this company again, let alone in charge-”
“Never say never,” Terrence interjected. “It’s a screwy business, hon. Anything can happen. Which is why you’re opening a can of worms you’re going to have NO idea how to deal with with this, hon.”
Wendy looked down at her laptop, and what little of the petition she had typed. Her husband was right. Pollaski was right. Everyone was right- but her. Frustrated, she shut the laptop as hard as she dared. “We’re the only sport in the flipping WORLD that treats cheating as a minor inconvenience instead of the travesty it is.”
“So why aren’t you in another sport?” Terrence asked, shrugging.
“What?” Wendy’s head whipped towards him so hard she almost cricked her neck. “What do you mean by that?!”
“Like you said, none of that stuff goes on elsewhere. And with your skills and spirit, you’d be a hell of an MMA fighter. Why not give that a try?”
“I-” Wendy paused, at a loss for words. “I don’t know… I don’t want- I LIKE being in wrestling, okay? And I don’t see myself doing anything else. It’s fun, it’s challenging, it’s exciting. I just think-”
“All sports have their problems,” Terrence observed. “But you gotta take the bad with the good, y’know? You’re an idealist, Wendy. That’s one of the things I love about you. But you’re not going to remove shit you don’t like from this sport. Especially not overnight, and especially not with a piece of paper you want the locker room to sign. True changes only comes from the fans, and well, they’re paying, despite the ruined matches. Or maybe even because of it. I don’t know. You wouldn’t be having this dream match this weekend if not for Camilla.”
“It makes no sense,” Wendy sighed. “The fans love great wrestling, yet they seem somewhat okay with matches being interfered with. It makes no sense. And what’s to stop Camilla, or anyone else, from turning this dream match into a nightmare?”
“Pollaski.” Terrence said simply, and after a pause, both Birdz burst out laughing. “Well, it is why you have him. And he was damned effective against Aimee.”
“Yeah,” Wendy sobered up with a sigh, glancing up just in time to see the “Wisconsin Welcomes You” sign flash by. “How long until Milwaukee again? I’m getting hungry”
“From here? About an hour to the campsite. But if you’re hungry now, there’s a town up ahead we could stop at.” With one free hand, he pointed at an oncoming sign. “Pleasant Prairie. Sounds nice enough.”
“If you’re okay with stopping,” Wendy said. “I suppose we better wake up Theresa if we’re going to stop for lunch. Unbuckling.”
And with that, she flipped off her seatbelt, and quickly, like she’d done many times before, scurried to the back to buckle in one of the rear seats, and wake up her sleeping daughter.
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Thursday January 23, 2014
Prairie Home Bar & Grill
Pleasant Prairie, Wisconsin
2:16 PM Local Time
“Right this way please,” the host, a thin man in his late-middle ages with graying hair and glasses, said, picking up two adult and one child’s menu. He lead the incoming trio a short ways across the restaurant, gesturing to a clear table, patiently waiting as the young family took off their coats and sat down, and then passed out the menus. “Our special today is a Portobello Mushroom Steak with your sides for just $8.99, and our soup of the day is spinach cream. Beatrice will be your server today, and she should be along in just a couple of minutes.”
The three thanked him, and the host turned away, threading his way through the half-full restaurant’s tables, heading back to his welcoming perch at the entrance. He turned around, and saw that the three had opened their menus, and were intently looking at them.
A low, sinister chuckle escaped him as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, quickly speedialing a number and holding it to his ear. It wasn’t long before an answer.
“Miranda. Drop whatever you’re doing and get here fast. You’re never going to believe who just walked in. Yeah. Wendy Briese.”
The voice on the other end got excited, and the host smiled.
“Now you can finally get your hands on that bitch.”
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