Forged Steel's Wrestling Journal

Entry 5

I sat in the stands for a spot show a few nights after my first match here. I'd seen passionate fans before, but this was a completely different level. I can expect to have things thrown at me on the way to the ring if I am to work as a heel. There was twice the police presence I'd ever seen before, and they even have a whole squad in riot gear standing by. Quake said that riots are indeed a common occurence here.

I'm not sure when, or even if, I'll be getting back to Starlight about her offer. I still haven't heard anything from her since that brief encounter we had on my first night in town. She's probably forgotten about me, but I don't seem to care much. I don't know if that's because I know there's going to be many other ladies, or if that's because I'm just wanting only what I had back home.

Travel day, I'm in a census designated place. It's too small to even be a town, yet their county auditorium will be at legal capacity, and Quake says the fire marshal will be turning people away himself. To give an idea why this is remarkable, this place has a population of about 400, but the house is a capacity of 1000. People love their wrestling so much that they come out of the mountains to watch. Literally the entire village will be closed to attend.

Because there's absolutely nothing to do in that town I decide to stay at home base for as long as I safely can to make the show. Workout is very routine, light duty because I'm in action tonight. I decide to humor myself by reading a newspaper, finding that wrestling has its own column, where they put results, promote upcoming shows, and give in-depth analysis. Quake says he pays a pretty penny for it but it keeps the houses full.

Late afternoon, Quake stops by to take me and a couple others to the show. I decide to take a book of crossword puzzles to keep me occupied. There is nothing to see on the ride over. I catch bits and pieces of the other wrestlers and Quake conversing and it's nothing really new or interesting, mostly talking about ring rats (they are to wrestling what groupies are to rock bands), whatever is going on with their wives, and comparing houses they've done elsewhere.

I should have known it was coming, but I still feel a bit surprised as they ask me about myself. I don't know if they're insulated or just too caught up in the sport but they're surprised to know that I'm a national champion in freestyle all four years of University, and three out of four years of high school. Also more surprised that my university's basketball team won the national title twice.

I was very good at basketball. I still am very good with it, but promoters don't want me to play it much because of injury risk, which is funny to consider when we're throwing each other around on a hard piece of canvas-covered wood night after night. Many think I should have never joined wrestling and instead gone pro in basketball. I'm sure I could have pulled it off but professional wrestling has always been my passion for as long as I can remember.

They want to know about the ladies I've given myself to. I'm far too well-mannered to speak of Zecora around them, though we aren't committed, so it's really not lying when I say I don't have a girlfriend. They then ask about my ring rats, "especially those babes in Canterlot." I don't have any, and say as much. They only laugh and say to not worry because it'll change out here. This makes me wonder if I shouldn't just blow off Starlight like I have been. I had intended to because Zecora, but if we're not really committed then is it really an issue?

We were lying in bed, Zecora and I. It was our first time together, and she had told me about herself. She then decided to get me to break my silence with "So tell me about yourself, Kovanaya." I hadn't expected to be asked about me, much less in such a genuinely interested way. I tried to brush it off by saying no one really wants to know that. She responded by kising my chin and saying "But I do..."

I proceeded to tell her everything, from how Papa disappeared more or less when I was five, to his and mother's divorce, to the abuse Sister and I suffered under mother and also about how I found myself through athletics. She was tearful hearing it all, as was I recounting it all for her. She kissed me once more as her head rested under my chin and there was silence a moment more. "Why haven't you told anyone?" Not only because it hurt so deeply, but also because I do still fear my mother finding me.

A long moment of silence came over us yet again. I got to thinking about how she always called me by my real name in adoration, how she wouldn't talk in her usual rhyme around me, and how she had said she trusted me enough to be herself around me. I then asked if we should commit to each other.

"You travel a lot. I know you have certain urges that I wouldn't be around to fulfill all the time." Sex? "Yes, but also just what we're doing now." I could give up wrestling just to stay here. "Do you want to do that?" No, but... "Exactly. I don't mind us being just special friends if you don't." I had no response to this. A moment later she says "If I change my mind, I promise I'll be the one to ask you." And we just left it at that.

Apparently I'm sleeping as I recount that all in my head because I come back to the present moment to Quake paintbrush slapping me. "We're here, partner, let's get going." We're at the tiny place, sheriff's deputies holding back the fans from our parking space. I grab my bag from the trunk and follow the boys into the dressing room. "Y'all sleep like a corpse, partner." I've heard it before, I don't think much of it.

The locker room is small, to the point of where faces and heels have to dress together. Shouldn't expect much for a 1000 seat auditorium that looks like a giant barn. My opponent, I'm facing Thunderbolt again, wants to talk over the match and doesn't even greet me. He just sits beside me and starts going over spots until I shush him. If we talk over our match before we're in the ring, I tell him, I'll come to you. He sneers at me before walking off in a huff. Who the hell trained this punk?

In my gear, I just sit in the locker room and write. The old timers are playing poker, the talents about my age are gathered around a small TV with a video game plugged in, the non wrestling talents are by gorilla position monitoring the match. Everyone's talking with everyone, except me. I just sit here and write, I look like I don't belong. Quake comes up to me "Yer next, partner." I follow him back to gorilla, and I can see behind the curtian that this tiny place makes only 1,100 look like 11,000. Thunder's intro plays, he walks by me with a sneer. Quake snorts, taking another dip of his chew, "What's his problem?"

Kid's a micromanager, I don't know if he'll get far because his improv is a dumpster fire. I think he needs more training. Quake nods, taking in my suggestion. "Yer right, I knew gettin you to work would get me honest answers about the twit." My music hits and Quake gives me a swat on the ass before I step out, "Go get 'im, partner!"