Saturday April 2, 2011
Saturn LS3000 owned by Daniel Pollaski
Streets of Indianapolis, Indiana
11:13 AM Local Time
My possible retirement from wrestling lasted about seven hours.
After my husband had announced that he was retiring from wrestling (again) to return to auto racing (also, again), I had been completely indecisive about my own future in the sport. However, after a long conversation that evening with Terrence, after I had time to cool down and we both were able to get our emotions into check, I had made the decision to remain a wrestler.
Logically, it was the only route available to me, other than simply walking away from an occupation altogether, and relegating myself to being a housewife. The only two things in my life I had ever been accomplished at were the theater and wrestling, and I knew that between my parents and I, way too many bridges had been burned for me to ever be seriously considered as an actress ever again.
Pollaski, of course, had been pleased with my decision, and the very next day, I was back in the ring training. It felt awkward without my husband though- despite what he had claimed, it wasn’t the same, and it never would be. I felt like a massive support beam had been knocked out from under me, and the structure of my self-confidence was wobbling.
That didn’t make any sense either. Despite the flippant claims of just about every single critic I ever had, I was a far cry from being a mere tag team specialist. I had many singles accomplishments that I was proud of, and there was little doubt in my head that I would garner many more during the remaining years of my career. So what if my husband no longer wrestled? All it meant was that I could now focus exclusively on my singles career, something I had begun to do anyways.
I just needed time. Time to adapt, to get acclimated to my situation. Sooner or later, everything would start to seem normal again, at least as normal as it is for a female pro-wrestler who has a husband in stock car racing. But it was slow going, and frustrating at that. Mental errors abounded my first couple of days of training, and I took several bruises when my sparring partner had caught me off-guard.
And all that made the curveball Pollaski had thrown at me while driving me back to the Nest all the more irritating.
“You’re joking, right?” I couldn’t quite keep the derision and incredulity out of my voice as I looked over at him, immediately folding my arms across my chest defensively. “Join an all-women’s wrestling company?”
We were in my manager’s car, a 2002 Saturn LS3000 that almost always smelled of Taco Bell. Owning only a motorbike, the deluge that had soaked the Indianapolis area for the last couple of days had forced me to request a ride from him, as Terrence had taken his Charger to Tennessee for a couple days to meet with his new bosses
Pollaski drummed his hands impatiently on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to turn green. “Actually, I’m not. I think joining would be just the thing you need.”
“I’m already IN a fed,” I replied irritably. “The world champion, in fact. Why on Earth would I ever want to leave?”
“I’m not suggesting you leave,” Pollaski said. “You look at the schedule between the two companies, and it is actually quite favorable. You’re not required to be exclusive to either, just so long as you fufill your promotional and competitive obligations.”
I said nothing, just looked down at the piece of paper that Pollaski had handed me. The application for admission into Femme Fatale Wrestling looked pretty much just like any other wrestling company app, but I looked at it with the utmost loathing.
I hated women’s wrestling companies.
Obviously, I didn’t hate the thought of women wrestling- considering that I was one. Heck, some of my greatest and fiercest opponents through the years had been females. But too many times ‘women’s wrestling’ became degenerate, reduced to barely-trained, well endowed models rolling around in pudding, clawing at each others ‘clothes’. Carnival sideshows such as that were an insult to those of us who trained hard, and worked our rears off.
Besides, it was all obsolete anyways. Over the past decade or so, women had been proving that pro-wrestling was just one of many fields where they could effectively compete against- and even beat- the men. Thus an all women’s company no longer had any purpose- why be the best female wrestler when you could be the best wrestler PERIOD?
I crinkled the application up in my hands, until it was little more than a tennis-ball sized wad of paper. Without a second thought, I tossed it over my shoulder, normally a tremendous breach of etiquette, but considering the debris already littering Pollaski’s back seat, it was hardly an infraction.
Nonetheless, Pollaski grimaced, as he turned the car onto Meridian Street. “You know, this isn’t the NGWA we’re talking about here.”
I scowled at the memory. For all that I loved the NGWA- the now-defunct New England based company had really been the place Terrence and I had begun to establish ourselves- it was also the chief reason I hated the thought of a dedicated women’s division.
Before I had arrived, the division had been dominated by two women who spent more time making out with each other in their trailer park than they did training for their matches. Naturally, I had been placed in the division myself upon my arrival, and even though I was still a rookie, I dominated the division from the moment I set foot in it. I had been thrilled at first, but I soon came to realize that I was the champion of women who absolutely refused to take this sport seriously, or with any kind of dedication. They were there to be eye-candy, I was there to wrestle.
It didn’t help that I was forced to abdicate my title because I refused to defend it in a bikini contest. Not a bikini wrestling match mind you (that would have been bad enough), but a straight up beauty competition to determine the women’s champion. How could anyone take ‘women’s wrestling’ seriously after THAT debacle?
Luckily, after my abdication, I was given more and more opportunities to show what I could do against the males of the company, and I met with just as much success as I had in the women’s division.
But after all that, I had promised myself that no longer would I ever subject myself to being relegated to a lesser division based solely on my gender. It wasn’t a vow I was planning on breaking over this.
Pollaski, however, was undeterred. “I’m serious, Wendy. These aren’t Jenna Blaze’s and Kandy’s we’re talking about here. I’m talking talented, like you and Valerie Belmont. Hell, Val’s here, and I know how much you respect her. These girls are here to compete, and they will pose a challenge to you. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I had felt otherwise.”
I cast a sidelong glance at Pollaski, and sighed inwardly. Despite his eccentric (some might say perverted) nature, Pollaski was about as good a manager- and friend- as anyone could ask for. He’d handled our careers well up to this point, and he was generally pretty good at helping us find venues to showcase our talents. But still...
“Tell you what,” Pollaski broke into my thoughts yet again. “I have the last FFW Pay Per View on DVR. So let’s get home, cook up some lunch, and then you and I will watch Full Frontal-”
“Full Frontal?” I burst out, my voice dripping with disdain.
Pollaski grimaced, an indication that he had let something slip he shouldn’t have. Nonetheless, he took a deep breath, and looked over at me, shooting me a lopsided grin. “Well, I’m not going to pretend there’s nothing risque about FFW. But there isn’t a wrestling company in the world that isn’t at least a little edgy. Sex sells, and a good promoter knows that. But the emphasis is on the athleticism, you’ll see that when we watch this.”
“It’s no use, I already threw away the application,” I said quietly, without the slightest tinge of regret.
In response, Pollaski burst out laughing. “You don’t think I got copies? Five, to be exact. I’ve known you for nine years, kid. I’ve kinda figured out you’re a bit on the stubborn side.”
As usual, I bristled a bit at ‘kid’- a ludicrious thing to call me considering I was approaching thirty years, not to mention being fourteen months Pollaski’s senior. But he’d been calling me that for my entire career. Finally, I shook my head helplessly, and sighed. “Okay, fine. We’ll watch ‘Full Frontal.’ But I’m not making any promises after that.”
Pollaski chuckled, as he turned off Meridian onto Payne. “Great! Hell, we hurry, we might even get a introductory video off in time for their next show.”
“I didn’t-”
“-say you were joining.” Pollaski cut me off, with another harsh laugh. “But I know you, Wendy. You’re not one to turn down an opportunity, especially if there’s a challenge behind it. And I guarantee that after you see what women like Scarlett Kincaid, Isabella Pazzini, and Colleen are capable of, you won’t be able to wait for the chance to get in the ring with one of them.”
I shot another glare at Pollaski, one filled with exasperation. I didn’t know what was more annoying- how presumptuous my manager was, or the fact that more often than not, he ended up being right. That smug self-assurance he had grated on me, but something in the back of my mind said that before tomorrow was over, I would be signing an FFW contract. Nonetheless, all I could do was fold my arms over my chest, and look away out the window, speaking one of the most noncommittal phrases one could make.
“We’ll see.”
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