Wrestling the Russian

by Desean Rambo

  CHAPTER 4

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  Someone knocked on the door of Tony’s apartment. It stirred me awake. I had no idea what time it was, I just knew it was early. I rubbed my eyes as I checked my phone: 6:30 AM.

  I checked the peephole of the place to see who was at the door. I couldn’t believe it. I exhaled as I swung open the door. It was Tony.

  “Rise and grind!” Tony said. He was dressed in navy sweatpants and a hoodie with a matching beanie.

  “What are you doing? Where have you been?” I asked. The dawn’s sunlight paralyzed my vision.

  “Money doesn’t sleep, so I don’t. I had to go holler at some distributors and get some breakfast. You know they get the new trucks early in the morning right?” Tony said. I had no idea.

  I shrugged as we sat down around his tiny square kitchen table. He rambled on.

  “So what I do is I holler at the stores early when the managers are there and tell them my product will sell faster than whatever it is they’re ordering. Plus I get all the intel on what’s hot in the streets and who’s selling the most.”

  He took a hustler’s approach to every day. I had to give him that.

  “And what did you learn today?” I said.

  “I learned that you can’t get a McDouble at 6 AM. Once they flip the signs over it’s a wrap,” he replied.

  “That’s all you learned? You got up this early for that?” I said.

  “Well, the guy I wanted to holler at didn’t have time to chop it up so I brought him breakfast and kept it moving. He wanted a burger though. I’m kind of mad I couldn’t get that burger. But you know what he’ll think about when he looks at a Brown Hawk ad? He won’t be thinking about liquor, he’ll be thinking about that food. And that’s how I get ahead. You got to connect with people in these streets,” Tony schooled me as he scrolled through his phone.

  It made sense but I didn’t understand how that applied to my situation. “That’s actually really smart,” I said back.

  “Have you found anywhere to train for the wrestling yet?” he continued.

  “I’ve only been in Memphis for eleven hours,” I said.

  “That’s long enough. Put some clothes on,” he instructed. I didn’t like the tone of voice he used. I knew that this was leading to uncomfortable levels of work.

  “What are we about to do?” I asked with a slight hint of apprehension.

  “Why would you ask that question Bri? You know who you’re dealing with. You better be ready to hustle girl,” he smiled as he put the phone away.

  Tony and I piled in the old school and drove to a part of Memphis I’d never been before. It wasn’t hood but it wasn’t the burbs either. Tony looked around anxiously as he swerved hard rights and lefts.

  “It should be somewhere around here,” he said under his breath as he glanced around the buildings along the street. He wasn’t exactly sure where we were going either.

  It was 7 AM and the streets were slowly getting busier with morning traffic. Tony checked his phone with one hand as he steered with the other. Eventually we pulled in front of a nondescript warehouse-looking building. There were warehouse doors on the outside and large steel regular door. The paint on the building was faded. I had no idea what we were about to get into. Two other cars were parked outside.

  Tony pulled up directly in front of the steel door and parked. He instructed me to follow him as he got out. I said nothing as we approached the door. Tony balled his fist and banged on the door.

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  “Ayoooo!” Tony hollered out.

  A couple of moments later the door slowly pushed open. A stocky, middle-aged, frumpy looking white man opened the door. His hair was cut in some sort of mullet. I was not sure what was going down and why we were here.

  “Can I help you?” the man said. His blank expression asked why we were at his door. Tony wasn’t fazed.

  “Is this the school?” Tony said. The man warmed up a little to him almost instantly.

  “Yes it is. Do you want to come in?”

  Tony motioned me inside. When we got inside the old warehouse I quickly realized it was a gym. A square ring with blue mat and white ropes stood in the center of the building. Around it was a collection of equipment including mats, heavy bags, cardio machines, and free weights.

  “So you want to train, huh?” the man said as he walked us around his warehouse gym.

  “Nah, not me. My cousin here is interested in your wrestling school,” Tony quickly corrected him.

  The short trainer cut his eyes at me. He quickly sized me up from head to toe. He wasn’t visibly impressed not that I blame him. I wasn’t fat but you could tell me and the gym had a long distance relationship.

  “What’s your name girl?” the trainer asked me. He walked us over to the ring and propped himself up.

  “Brianna.” I answered.

  “Brianna, I’m going to be real with you. This is not the thing for everyone. You’re a pretty girl and I’d hate to be the one to make you cry if you get in my ring,” he said.

  A little eek of self doubt crept in. Was I good enough? Tony sensed it and quickly took control.

  “And who are you? What kinds of experience do you got, Jack?” Tony asked in my defense. The man smiled.

  “Twenty one years in the business. I worked for all of the big dogs. I’ve been in there with all the big names. My name is Mark Harris but you probably best remember me as…”

  “…El Scorpion,” I cut him off. It hit me. I knew exactly who he was. Mark wrestled under a mask and played a Mexican character when he was on TV in WWW. His short stature and government name gave it away.

  He cut his eyes at me. I was right.

  “You know your history. Very impressive. How long have you been watching wrestling?” he asked.

  “My whole life.” I answered.

  Mark folded his arms.

  “Well let’s cut down to the nitty gritty. Not many females make it, and I just don’t put anyone from my school out there on the main stage. If you can’t move, you won’t even wrestle a local match for me. Class is $100 a month and we go every weekday with a show about once a month. Usually Saturday. You are required to attend every show because…”

  “…that’s when WWW sends scouts out to scout talent?!” I cut him off again, as I asked feverishly. I was getting excited hearing about the inside workings of the business I loved.

  “You’re correct. And only the best get to go to Orlando. I have a 100% success rate. Every student I’ve sent to Orlando has made it in this business, but its work. I’m warning you.”

  “I want it. I want this,” I said. I was determined. I finally felt strong about a decision for the first time I could remember since I graduated college.

  “Well if you’re ready let’s see where you are,” Mark said as he rolled into the ring.

  “Boys! Let’s go!” Mark hollered out.

  Out walked two other students from the door marked locker room. My eyes almost failed me. They were two young, meaty, muscular guys. Trainer Mark must have called for the Greek Gods and I just misheard it as boys. One of them had a neat blonde high-and-tight fade with a baby face, while the other had a sprawling but neatly trimmed black beard with slick black hair long enough to braid. Their tights accentuated all of the best qualities.

  Blondie introduced himself as Chad. Black beard was more standoffish. “Yegor,” he simply nodded and said. I had to snap out of staring at his well defined, tatted up, pecs and abs. Mark motioned them into the ring.

  “Fellas, this is…”

  “Brianna,” I said.

  “Fellas this is Brianna. This is our new student. She’s going to be with us for the near future.” he said. Tony watched from a folding chair outside the ring.

  “Brianna get in here!” Mark called to me.

  I strained and grunted as I struggled to pull myself into the ring. Mark didn’t have any steps on his ring. The three men w
atched like you would watch a hapless fish out of water. I finally flopped into the ring.

  “The first thing you have to learn is how to bump,” Mark said. Bumping is a term that simply means fall. In wrestling every move is carefully done so that the wrestler falls to minimize injury as much as possible. It is the building block of all wrestling. If you can’t bump, you can’t work.

  “Yegor please demonstrate a bump,” Mark said.

  BOOM! Yegor jumped up and fell flat on his back with his arms outstretched. Chad then did the same. Mark motioned to me. I bent my knees and took a deep breath. I took a silent count of one then hopped up. Yegor caught me. His arms squeezed tight around me and placed me back on my feet.

  “Poor girl was about to kill herself,” Yegor said bluntly. Tony chuckled in the background. I couldn’t tell if he was disgusted or concerned.

  Mark then demonstrated a bump. He then climbed upon to the top rope and fell back on his back as I saw him do many times as a masked character. In his mid forties, it was much more impressive. He still had it.

  “The secret is to tuck your chin in and fall heels first. You absorb the bump first on your feet then your shoulders,” Mark said. He motioned to Yegor to assist me.

  Yegor held me as I leaned back halfway. I almost forgot what I was doing as I drew his body heat. BOOM! He dropped me and I hit the mat. He looked on with the same unimpressed look.

  “Not bad,” Chad said.

  “Decent,” Yegor mumbled.

  Mark watched on. He then had us do bumps on a nonstop circuit one after the other. I couldn’t keep up. My heart was beating so fast I thought it might explode.

  “You good Bri?” Tony asked.

  I looked back at the guys who were smoothly doing their bumps without a hitch. I wasn’t about to be the weak link. Not today. They would have to drag my cold dead body out of the ring.

  “I’m good,” I said.

  “If you’re sure I’m about to bounce. I got some work to do and I’m trying to catch up with some family BS,” Tony said.

  “You can go. I’m good,” I assured him.

  As I turned my attention back to what Chad and Yegor were doing they now were running the ropes, bouncing off one side then another. It was all a blur. Mark called for me to take a seat with him outside the ring as the guys went into their routine of bouncing off the ropes then throwing each other over one another’s heads, scooping each other into body slams, and countering each maneuver. It was like magic.

  Mark leaned into me.

  “I like to let them go until it’s time for me to step in. I believe each day you try to get just a little fraction of a percent better and let it pile up. That’s how I lasted 21 years in this business. No one gave me a chance either. I was much like you. I wasn’t anything to look at initially but each day, each year, I lifted a little bit heavier. I got a little stronger. I got a little more crisp. I think you can do the same if you stay dedicated.”

  I nodded. I was totally out of breath. Mark sent me to get some water and take care of myself.

  The rest of the day I simply practiced running the ropes and learning my way in and out of the ring. I mostly watched Yegor and Chad practice moves and lift weights. They rarely spoke. They trained together but they also realized they were in direct competition with one another. Only the best would make it to Orlando.

  Chad drove Yegor and I home. I sat upfront in Chad’s black Chevy Impala as Yegor silently sat behind me. He said nothing the entire ride. Yegor stayed in a middle class apartment complex not too far from the school, so we dropped him off first. He quietly slung his gym back over his shoulder and got out. We locked eyes for a brief moment.

  “Thanks,” he coldly said to Chad before he turned and disappeared into the building.

  “He’s not much of a talker,” I said as Chad drove me back to Tony’s place.

  “Don’t mind Yegor. He has gone through a lot recently. I’m sure he’s glad to have you too. We don’t get too many females coming through,” he replied. I was intrigued.

  “What happened if you don’t mind?” I asked.

  Chad steered on as he told the story.

  “He was in WWW not too long ago, maybe like two years ago. He was doing really well down there before he got injured. He slipped a disc in his back. Then they cut him because of his crappy attitude and he hasn’t been the same since.”

  I wasn’t surprised to hear about Yegor’s attitude. I was surprised to hear he was already in WWW though. “Mark told me he had a 100% success rate,” I said.

  “Yegor was very much successful. He was one of the brightest young talents in the business. Do you remember a guy named William Paddington?” Chad asked.

  “Yes. I actually do. But he wasn’t Russian…” I said.

  “That was Yegor believe it or not. He just played a British character for television. You probably don’t remember him because of the tats and beard. But it’s him. Same guy.”

  I thought about it. Under that beard and mop it was indeed the same guy. He aged into a harsher tattooed version of that young guy everyone loved.

  We got to Tony’s place. I rolled out. “Appreciate the ride Chad. See you tomorrow,” I said.

  “You need us to pick you up? It’s nothing.” Chad asked.

  “Sure. That would be good.”

  CHAPTER 5

  The following weeks of class were grueling. Each day began with cardio and weights, followed by an intense session in the ring. Every day I was pushed further and further, learning new moves, and how to maneuver around the ring. Mark, Chad, and Yegor did not wait for me. I was expected to jump in and get up to speed as quickly as possible. No one was there to babysit.

  Yegor’s frosty attitude slowly softened. He’d catch me as I slipped off the top rope, took a bump wrong and spot me as I lifted weights. He never spoke more than a few words. Usually those words were instructions. “Not like that, like this,” he would command. I listened to him as he became a personal trainer of sorts to me.

  The next Saturday would be my first show. I wasn’t scheduled to participate. Mark took Chad, Yegor, and I out to dinner to discuss the show. Mark was a stickler for detail as you would imagine a guy who wrestled the Mexican style for over a decade.

  He went over every little detail of the show down to the music, what the guys would say on the microphone, how they would come out to the ring, and how the match would work. Wrestling was predetermined. I always knew this but I had no idea how much thought went into each move.

  Mark sat in the restaurant with a large yellow legal pad and pen. He scribbled a page and a half of notes as he dictated to us.

  “Chad you’re going to come out first, then Yegor. You will be wrestling each other. Chad you’re going to work as the face (good guy), Yegor you’ll be the heel (bad guy). I want an up tempo. You should be doing a lot of combinations and coming off the ropes as much as possible. Don’t bore them.”

  Chad nodded as he got the instructions. Yegor did not change his stoic demeanor.

  The Saturday show was a joint collaboration between several small schools. Twelve students would be showcased. Mark would only be sending Yegor and Chad to participate. After class, I spoke to Chad in confidence again after we dropped Yegor off.

  “Are you nervous?” I said.

  “Nervous about what?” he asked.

  “The show. Aren’t you nervous about the opportunity? Like, what happens if you mess up? What happens if you have a bad match?”

  “You have a lot to learn young lady. You are talking to the king of bad matches. I should have made it to Orlando at least a year ago. I just screwed up so much. I had a match once where I forgot the finish, another where I dropped a guy on his head, and another where I got into it with a fan,” Chad smirked.

  I didn’t know much about his background. I just assumed by looks that Chad generally got everything he wanted. From what I knew life was pretty easy for 6’4 blonde white guys.

  “Wow.
I would have never guessed. What do you mean you got into it with a fan?” I asked.

  Chad swallowed hard. He was uncomfortable with the topic. “I was working as a heel, a bad guy, and the whole thing went left. I was insulting this guy in the crowd who was heckling me and next thing I know he jumps the rail. The clown came at me with a combat knife.”

  “Wow, what did you do?” I asked.

  “I took him out. I used a technique to disarm him and I broke his arm. Right there in the middle of the ring in front of everyone. Since then I’ve worked as a face. It’s kind of understood I’m not to work as a heel,” he said.

  “I can see it’s still real to some people,” I said.

  “I guess. But that happened in front of the WWW scouts so I have a black eye in the industry. People call me a hothead but really I’m just good at ticking people off. I’ve been told that I would have been called up if it wasn’t for the liability,” he smirked.

  It was a lot to take in. I never would have thought that Chad had those kinds of issues. Of course I had no insight to add. I just nodded and held my thoughts.

  “Don’t let me scare you off. Me and Yegor are good guys. Like everyone, we have pasts. The only difference is that ours are public. Thank God for Mark though. He’s really done something in giving us the opportunity to get our names back,” he continued.

  After I got back I flicked on television. Laura Grey was on TV again. Once again it was the same song and dance. She insulted the rest of the female competitors until another challenger stepped up to the plate. And like the last show, Laura couldn’t be stopped. She made short work of her victim while the crowd egged her on. Again she flung the bright pink Ladybird Championship belt around her shoulder as she basked in the glory.

  I couldn’t lie.

  She was the best I’d ever seen.

  ***

  Saturday quickly came. It was time for the showcase event. The event was held at a local high school gym, with a small crowd of around 200 out to watch. The ring sat in the middle of the gym with several mats outside it and steel barricades bordering the crowd. Most of the crowd was families with young children but there were a few obvious industry insiders. Those were the scouts everyone was there to impress.

  I accompanied Mark backstage. Everyone kind of stood around waiting for their call to the curtain. Mark found Yegor and Chad mulling around along one of the walls. He gave them a much needed pep talk.