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It's Time To Play The Game!

(Yes yes, another dread "creative column" I can hear the collective groans of those who still wait for my columns. Worry not, as this is the last of them [as far as you know] and we'll be returning to "It's Time to Play the Game" soon. Soon being next Monday. So tune in then for what you all have been waiting for, or at least mildly reminded of. Until then, read this and do with it what you will. If at least one person liked any of this shit I've been doing, then cool, it was worth it.)

What if I make it into the E?

Nah nah, no what if. I’ve got to. If I fuck this try out match then that’s it, I’m done. Maybe drop some more time in the indy’s but 7 years is a long time to wait. I can’t spend another 7 years taking bumps on some high school gym floor, launching myself into a row of shit metal chairs for a crowd of 30 and killing myself without the money to fix me. I love this sport. I fucking love this sport. But my body can’t hold out for a chance that may never come again. I’ve got to go out there right now and stick this and make them want me.

*

A frickin’ developmental deal! YES! The brass must’ve liked all I had because they signed my ass right after the match. The screams of millions crashing against the bursting notes of my music, the thunderous noise booming up my feet through my body. God I wish for it now, to get all of them to love me or hate me; the kid who thinks I really broke his favorite wrestlers leg, the dad who never jumped and screamed at the 3 count since Hogan in ‘91, the kid posting the match reviews from his phone forgetting for one moment as he stands and yells for me to reach that title. Whatever it is, as long as they feel something, that I can make them love wrestling for one second longer. Man, it’s gonna be great. I’ve gotta do my time in FCW but I’m sure it won’t be too long; they loved what brought me to the party, after all.

*

One week left. One week until I‘m a player in the biggest game in town. My time in FCW has been fantastic. I’ve been working the gimmick I thought up years ago and never looked back from; The End. The great kind of character that can work as a heel or face just by changing who you’re kicking the piss out of. Cocky, methodical but explodes for cut-offs, hit’s a flurry of activity to keep em down, then takes his time breaking ‘em apart. Lay into ‘em with strikes and keep ‘em counting lights. FCW really helped me work on my execution and I got a lot of help from the trainers in the back. Got my End of Days finisher over well, a guillotine choke with my legs wrapped around their waist. I hit that baby from anywhere and they popped every time. The End, on the big stage. I can’t wait.

*

I’ve always thought of myself as American. I learned the same excuse for English that all Jersey kids do, drove to White Castle on boring nights and snuck to New York to see shows at the Bowery. So why did I feel like someone stiffed me too hard in the stomach? Vince had only joked “Aren’t too many Japanese people in Hoboken, are there?” and when I corrected him to let him know I’m Korean, him and Johnny Ace just laughed it off. Whoops. Sorry, thought you were Japanese. No biggy. And it shouldn’t have been. My folks never talked about Korea. They were the kind of immigrants that threw themselves into being American like they were running from something terrible. Huge American flag like a Hogan cape flapping in front of their store, dad wore a big cowboy hat (like all Jersey cowboys). They named me Connor for fuck’s sake, Connor Young (Joong and Young are basically the same thing, right?). So why am I still pissed? God, I can’t wait to finally get in there and fucking wrestle.

*

Excitement has replaced anxiety as I’m closer and closer to the curtain. Backstage I was tapping up a storm, puttering my heels up and down like I do when I’m nervous as hell. Costume got my pants perfect, black with grey highlights along the cuffs and sides. Just great workmanship (I’d know after looking down at my lap for 20 minutes). Cena even offered me a “Go get ‘em, kid” with a slap on the back after his Jordans walked into my view. I gave the necessary handshakes, the small nods of respect as I met everyone in the locker room and tried not to be a damn mark (goddam was that hard) but having him come back to give an encouraging word to basically nobody made me grin like an idiot all the way to the front.

*

I’ve got a meeting with the writers in five and I gotta talk to them about this “Yoong” thing. I’m catching on and catching on quick because even with the limited time they give me I’m working the crowd great. Without a promo in edgewise either, and dropping promos is my game. When I get a mic in my hands, that crowd is gonna catch fire. Can’t fool the office because they noticed too and called me up for this pow-wow. Hoping to be The End was a little much, but they could at least spell my name right and not like some bastard child of asian pronunciation. Whatever, this is gonna rock. I can’t wait to see what they have in store for me.

*

It took five times knocking on the writers door before I asked “Who’s storyline did you work on before?” and got the answer “No one’s, you’re my first” from two of them. Four variations on an Asian Sensation gimmick is four too many. I griped at them about not getting the time for promos and how it’d help me get over but they said I wasn’t ready for that yet, and neither was the audience. The fuck did that mean? I pushed The End as a character again and the writers shot it down. Again. Not believable, no one’d buy it. Why not? How in the love of god is it not believable for ME to go out there and be a good wrestler?

*

They stuck me with Yoshi. I got nothing but respect for the guy, but they stuck me with him for the same reason I’m fucking riding with him now. You can tell the other guys pushed Yoshi onto me because we’re both asian, like stick two random asians together and they’ll be best chums bound by slanty eyes. “Hey man, Yoshi needs a riding partner and we’re full up, you mind riding with him?” It’s not a huge deal, and I didn’t wanna get heat from the boys. Not to say we don’t get along, we do, as much as a man with no Japanese knowledge and a man that barely knows English can.

*

Somewhere in there, no one explained to Vince or the writers that I don’t fucking know Japanese. I don’t even know Korean. So how’d I end up Yoshi’s translator in that fucking promo? Thank god Yoshi wrote down what he was saying and I have a memory longer than 10 words. But really? “We’ve come to the WWE to show you our pride as asian warriors”? I can’t believe I said that shit. I felt like calling my parents and apologizing. Complaining isn’t getting me anywhere and the boys are starting to rib into me for not being a team player and doing my job. A push is a push and I know I should just shut my mouth, but I didn’t want it like this. It’s ridiculous.

*

Every time they call me back to the meeting room my heart sinks a little further into my stomach. Well deserved in this case, because they want me to change my in-ring. Yoshi and I have been doing alright and we’re over from our work alone, which I take some small pride in. I strike and I grapple and I keep guys on the ground. Now they’re asking me to drop from the ropes all the time when I’ve been up there two handfuls my whole career. I don’t know how to take those bumps, why are they asking me to wrestle a style that isn’t mine? They asked if I could do a cartwheel. I don’t get it. All that work with the agents to get my ground game tight, poof. Gone. Bumbling off the top is no way to get over.

*

I’m doing my best to take all my anger and shove it down somewhere where it’ll just sigh and die out but it’s not fucking working. There was no reason whatsoever to squash us, not like that, not for a cheap pop to kill what little momentum we had. Saving Orton from a beatdown made no sense. We’ve never wrestled or interacted with him ever so why would Team Flippy Asians help him? And why would Orton RKO us after the save? Oh man, he can hit that shit from anywhere, he’s such a Viper. Great. In the meantime, I’ll limp to the back and do my damndest not to bite a hole in my lip.

*

It hasn’t been the same. We’re not nearly as over as we were before, and who’d be surprised? 2 minutes to work til we’re pinned and stay off TV for another couple weeks. Got some matching tights with Yoshi that have the Japanese flag on ’em that I can wear around the locker while everyone else wrestles. I honestly thought creative had forgotten about us until they dropped us in that skit with Santino. We didn’t wrestle that week, just got to sit there as Santino made a Long Duk Dong joke (ignoring for the moment that neither of us are Chinese). Hilarious, do kids even get that reference? What the hell does this have to do with wrestling? Just more sitting in the back for me, watching as the others come out to cheers and flashes of light.

*

I dread going out into the ring now. That’s not how it should be. I should never have to hate going out and wrestling. I love wrestling. And I’m not gonna let it happen. I talked it over with Yoshi (as best I could) and we decided to approach Vince with the idea of me going heel. Yoshi and I could feud and it’d build us both up. Let me finally cut a promo and show I could get the crowd to love him and hate me. They’ve never really let me try, but once I get that crowd eating out of my hand Vince’ll let me burn into him every week. I won’t back down from this. I can do this, I know I can, they just have to give me the chance.

*

3 minutes. They gave us 3 minutes for our blowoff and Yoshi won it clean. I watched it later on the monitors and all the commentary was about Jason Biggs wrestling in the main later. That promo I was promised and never got would’ve come in real handy to explain why I stomped him down last week. And why we were fighting this week. Or gotten the crowd to do more than sit on their hands. “Sorry you couldn’t get it over,” the boys said with barely contained smiles. Right, like I was given any chance to. 3 minutes, squashes and no promo time and it’s my fault that the crowd wasn’t eating up my non-existent, half-assed storyline.

*

I got the call today. Johnny Ace gave me a call in my hotel room. The one I was in with everyone else for the show tonight. Jack-ass couldn’t even come up to my room. Said “Creative has nothing for you” That’s such bullshit. It’s their fucking job to come up with ideas, and if the best they can do is a voiceless asian tag team then maybe you should find better fucking writers. This sucks. I laid on my back for months while creative couldn’t get which oriental I was right. I hope Yoshi does alright. God, I tried, I put in their hands all the tools and abilities I had to make me a star, my promo work, my style, they had it all right there. Why the fuck did they sign me if they changed everything that brought me to the table? What else is left for me? I don’t have the gas to push me any more, because what’s keeping me going now? I’m just…tired.

E-mail me at: OniBarubary@gmail.com

Source: lordsofpain.net