Holiday Wishes, With a Wrestling Flair

Hello all!

Well, it's almost 10:30 PM here and I just got back home from the annual "Christmas at the Sheltons" show that my G/F's Aunt Mother-in-law's church. It is kind of a tradition that we all go every year and I have to admit that it isn't a half bad show. It's a Christmas concert and they have an orchestra, chior and the proverbial whole nine yards. For those of you who don't know me, you will only find me in church twice a year and that is Christmas with the Sheltons, and the Mid Night Mass on Christmas Eve. I have nothing against Religion, I just choose to worship in my own way, and it doesn't require a mass of people saying stuff I can't understand; all in unision.

Somewhere during the opening prayer and the 75 Hail Mary's it struck me that I didn't do a very good job explaining the wrestling school and the people in it, so here is a class picture:
Colonel Debeers and Playboy Buddy Rose class picture.

I am not in this picture, as it was taken before I came to town as a student. It is courtesy of Playboys website, if you want to check it out you can HERE.

Also, if you have the mind, here is a video clip of some of their best students during a show earlier this year. I think some of these kids have the potential to "make it." The clip can be accessed by clicking HERE.

Well, I think that will do it for tonight. Once again, thank you for reading, and until next time.

Introduction x2

Ok, since my finger tips cooled off a bit I am now ready to continue this next chapter in the making of a wrestling GOD. I left you last time with me diciding to explore the path of becoming a professional wrestler as a tribute to both Norton the pigee and Eddie Guerrero. Around 1997 or so, when I was a bit younger (24), and the thought of wrestling was a bit more feesible for my body I briefly toyed with the idea and I contacted a few schools inquiring about the endeavor. However I realized that I had a snowballs chance in Hades of getting anywhere and with a lack luster response from some of the schools, I quickly realized that my time was betters spent trying to make my way in this world by a more conventional means. So I guess I can say that it has always been a dream of mine. Now fast forward to November 2005 and after hearing of the untimely passing of one of my favorite wrestlers, Eddie Guerrero, on the heels of Norton Guerreo the pot bellied pig passing on, I decided to swing for the fences and see what could happen. So after a thorough search I decided to contact the school of Playboy Buddy Rose and Colonel DeBeers. They operate the school out of a gym in Portland Oregon, about an hour away from where I live. I fired off an email, and I wouldn't be hog tied (a little piggee humor) if Buddy Rose himself didn't call me back the next day and invited me personally up to check out the school and see the quality of the work his students are doing. I didn't know what to expect on account of never attending a wrestling school before, and I was just sure that once I walked through the door he would see I didn't look like a wrestler. However, that Sunday when I came up for the class, I opened the door and there sat Buddy at the desk. He looked up and said "Chris Hawk?" Let me tell you how good it makes you feel when a bonafide wrestling star like Buddy not only remembers your name, but also sits there waiting for you, as I was 15 minutes late. (For those of you who have driven Portland, Oregon, my being late is justifiable, that place is more confusing then NY City.) He informed me he had to leave on account of it being his birthday and he had an engagement planned with his wife to celebrate it. So he promptly turned me over to Colonel DeBeers. Now, for you non wrestling fans, Colonel DeBeers gimmick was a lot like SGT Slaughter, except he was from S. Africa. Needless to say he was a heel, and he was so darned good at it that I thought for sure he was going to be a hard nosed taskmaster. Side note here he used to be a football star and played briefly with the Cincinnati Bengals so he is a pretty big guy. You have no idea how much better I felt when he proved to be a very nice guy. After he went over a few things with me (I am going to do my best with sticking to the true essence of kayfabe here although I know most of you are smartened up.) he was showing me the basics of locking up and he immediatly pointed out that I was stiff as a board and to lighten up. I spent about an hour or so going over the basics, learning monkeys and all that. (For those of you that don't know what I mean, good, kayfabe is alive and well, for those that do outside the industry, much magic must be missing out of wrestling.) Sounds pretty uneventful so far? Well, let's just say the fun was just beginning.

Like I said, I spent an hour or so going over the basics with Colonel and I think I was doing quite well. I was even complimented by Colonel that I was picking it up pretty good for being new to all this. Well, needless to say my head got deflated as soon as he invited me into the ring. I can catagorically state for the record that wrestling HURTS. Bad. When a wrestler is slammed or kicked, or hit or whatever happens, he sells it, that is make it look like it hurts. Me, being the well educated fan that I am thought you have to wince and grab at your aching back and just make any Oscar winning actor proud. I quickly found out that no, it really does hurt, there is no acting to it at all. Think about it, a wrestler is poised on the top rope when the other wrestler comes from underneath and launches you through the air where you land on your back on some canvas that covers boards. Did you really think it was goose down feathers under there? After a while of that I was greatly relieved when I was allowed to referee several matches so that I could both be up close and therefore have a eagle eye view to learn, and to give my by then aching body time to get out of shock. Being a ref wa squite fun as there were several "unique" finishes, and these students are quite good, so I felt like I was in the middle of my very own wrestling show. Well, to finish a class they have all the students in the ring for a battle royal, and of course, I was invited to participate. To win a battle royal you have to be the last man in the ring, and the only way to be eliminated is to be thrown over the top rope. Well, being thrown over the top rope safely wasn't covered in my first day's itinerary it was quickly decided that I was going to win. My gosh, it was a blast! I was all over the place, throwing elbows, stomping people in the corner, double teaming others over the top rope, and then suddenly there it was. Just me and one other guy in the ring. So, after what must have been the worlds lamest elimination (I shot him into the ropes, he held on then went over with a flimsy forearm to the chest, pretty much all I was qualified to do.) I stood alone and won my very first battle royal. I was so proud, the boys were clapping and even Colonel was standing on his chair whistling and cheering. Well, ok, maybe not quite like that, but they were all clapping, including Colonel. All the boys got into the ring, clapped me on the back, and then the beat down began. As one held my arm up in victory he whispers in my ear to take a clotheline. I wasn't quite sure what he said, but when he clocked me out of no where with it, I assumed I heard right. Then all the boys, all 12 of them, began the proverbial mud stomping of me through the canvas. I had elbows dropped on me, flips off the rope, seton bombs, you name it and I was subjected to it. But then, the coupe d' etat. I wouldn't be damned if I wasn't frog splashed from the top rope three different times in a row. Now you Eddie fans know that that was his finishing move. I didn't tell anyone why I was there, that it was my tribute to Eddie Guerrero, but during the splashes, when I felt the blows, I swear to God Eddie was telling me "Welcome to the club." And Colonel? He didn't ask me if I wanted to become a regular student, he said "See you next week", and that was all the compliment I needed.

Well, that should do it for this entry. Thanks for reading! Until next time.

A Pig Farmer Turned...'Rassler?

Hello all!

Welcome to the very first entry into my blog, "The making of a wrestling GOD." This first entry is going to be quite long, as I first have to explain to you who I am, what I am doing, and the most important reason of all, WHY.

First things first, the who I am. I am just some guy living in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon, which has been my home for the last four years. Before that I was born and raised in Muskegon, Michigan, where I played football and wrestled in high school. After high school I played two years of Semi pro football (A misnomer at best.)and I joined the Military. After the Military I held a variety of jobs to include over the road truck driver (hated it), traveling satellite dish seller (hated it even more) and security guard. (Not such a bad gig if not for the pathetic pay.) I then went to work for my Uncle "Wonny" and his lighting component company, that was the best as it allowed me to work from home. Around 1999 to 2000 I met the love of my life, Keidi, and shortly thereafter moved out here to Oregon where I now find myself on the verge of a wonderful adventure. What adventure, you must be wondering? Well, not just yet, got some more explaining to do, then buckle up 'cuz it's gonna be a fun ride.

When I first moved out here my neighbor, a guy named Rick who is a cross between Grizzly Adams and Uncle Jesse from the Dukes Of Hazard, and his beautiful wife Jackie had a pig "sanctuary" where they cared for no less then 125 pot-bellied pigs. I had the house right next door. At first I wasn't too thrilled of moving next door to what I was sure was going to be a stinky oinkfest, but slowly over time I was impressed with both the neighbors and the pigs. You see, them pigs are not just pigs to Rick, they are his babies, and it is a sad commentary when I know for a fact that Rick takes better care of them pigs then more then a few parents take care of their own children. Unfortunately Jackie passed away in 2002 and Rick's health took a turn for the worse. In April of 2002 I got word that my father, who was a diabetic, was diagnosed with cancer...Of the pancreas of all places. So in September of that year I went back to Michigan to be with him. While I was in Michigan Rick quickly found out that he could not provide the same level of care to his babies, so he started the long, arduous process of finding the best of homes for his pigs, except for the original "Magnificent Seven" Arnie, Cuddles, Kirbo, Andrew, Colby Dawn, Roto Rooter, Beegers and Norton; the first pigs that started them down the road to piggy keepin'. Norton plays a big role in this adventure I am about to partake in, more on him later.

In August of 2003 I came back after the passing of my Father and renewed my old friendship with Rick. It was at this time I realized just how far down hill Ricks health was so I moved in with him and became his in home care provider. Whilst no one gets rich from such an endeavor, I am happy to do this for him as he reminds me so much of what my dad was. So I earn a nominal living and have way, to much time on my hands. Here is the segue into wrestling and the opening of the door to my adventure. I am a HUGE lifetime fan of the male soap opera that is wrestling. One of my favorites was Eddie Guerrero, so I was very sad to hear of his sudden passing this past November. Let me state right here that my deepest condolences goes out to his beautiful wife, Vickie, his three daughters, family members and the boys in the locker room that lost a friend, colleague and mentor. "Viva La Raza!" Thank you for the memories Eddie, and may you rest in peace my brother.

Ok, Now here is how Norton the pig and Eddie the wrestler come together in this story. Norton lived here, in the house, had his own bed and man he ran the roost. He had a way that let you know it was an honor and a privlidge to serve him, and I swear when he walked into a room you could hear the world get silent and the trumpets start to blowing. But with all that attitude he could charm the pants off any city slicker, and it was impossible not to love Norton. You didn't train Norton like one would train an animal, Norton trained you. And he was so danged smart! One day I mentioned to Rick that Norton was in need of a hoof trim and he went after my toes, the only time he ever did that. He demonstrated that he had a firm grasp of the English Language. Nortons great skill is he would lie to you. He would insist that he hadn't been fed in six months and demand a goodie to hold him over, and more then once he would con a goodie off of me and then double dip the pot and con one off of Rick. He had a nasty habit of stealing stuff out of the fridge, and being the wrestling fans Rick and myself are, we took to calling him Norton Guerrero, a take off of the gimmick Eddie Guerrero was doing about lyin' cheatin' and stealin'. Norton died suddenly in September, and Eddie passed in November, certainly not a good year for anyone with the name Guerrero.

Ok, I have teased you long enough. As a tribute to both Eddie and Norton I have decided to attend the preeminent wrestling school in the Northwest, Playboy Buddy Rose and Colonel DeBeers wrestling school in Portland, Oregon. Let me make it clear, I have no illusions of making the big time. It is my quest to become the second best wrestler to NEVER make the big time. Don't get me wrong, if Vince and the WWE were to call me Hey, I have my bags packed and I am ready to go. TNA on the line? Where we going? Hell, I'd work for free to get my foot in. But, me being the realist that I am, if I wrestle in bingo halls, maybe a state fair or two in front of thirty fans then I am calling this endeavor a success. As I write this I have already attended a few "classes" at the school. Buddy in real life is one of the nicest guys you'll ever meet, and Colonel Debeers is a real hoot to work with. But since this entry is a mile and a half long I'll close it out now and begin the next entry with the story of my first day in a bit after my fingers cool off. All future entries should be quite a bit shorter, more wrestling oriented and you are all invited down to watch this car wreck of me trying to bust into the business. Until next time take care, and thanks for reading.