by The Immolator
Exclusive to OnlineOnslaught.com

STEVE ALLEN (singing): I get no kick from Ukraine…
THE BOLSHEVIKS: Hey!
ALLEN:  Hey yourself!
         -- from Wrestlemania VI, Toronto, April 1, 1990

Welcome back to another spine-tingling installment of The Ring. And when The Immolator says “spine-tingling,” you’d better believe it.

I got my first taste of live ECCW action this past Saturday, at a card here in Vancouver. I had intended to be part of the ring crew, but the ring was just about set up by the time I got there. Instead, I wound up being the sound guy, which makes sense. As a media specialist, ex-strip club DJ and former bass player for the Band of Confusion, I know my way around a roll of gaffer tape. It was my job to set up the speakers and sound system, then play… people’s… music!

The set-up part was flawless. The music part, on the other hand, had a couple of glitches. Most wrestlers brought in songs burned onto CDs. Others had their CDs stashed in a pile in a box. Or, at least, they were supposed to be in the pile in the box. Some scrambling and improvisation was necessary. Secondly, with one CD player at my disposal, switching between the themes for the rudos and technicos in a timely fashion was difficult. Thirdly, I wasn’t aware that I was supposed to play music upon the departure of the wrestlers, as well as their arrivals. This problem became apparent to me after the ECCW title match between the tag teams of the G.O.D. and the Backwoods Militia. The manager of the Backwood Militia, Father Juan Valdez, had just turned on his team, allowing the G.O.D. to win the belts. When their music didn’t play as they left the ring, the good Father stormed the sound location (highly visible to the crowd), berated yours truly for all to hear, and, much to my surprise, whacked me in the back of the head with a kendo stick.

It took about half-a-second for me to register what just happened. Then… down goes Immo! Down goes Immo! Fortunately, “Old School” Brian Sommers happened to be at the sound table, and he managed to find the music in question and play it while I lay on the floor.

What an ignominious debut! (grin) I was able to watch the video of the incident the next day, and it seems like an eternity between the time the kendo stick makes contact and the time I hit the deck. Still, it was my first live bump, as it were. I was jacked.

The next day, I finally got back into the ring at the House of Pain for Lesson Number Five. I learned quite a lot. Side headlock takedowns and various reversals were the focus of the day. I also took the opportunity to see if some of the holds I picked up over the years (and put on my jabrone roommates in university) had been learned properly. With a little extra coaching from “Gorgeous” Michelle Starr, I went over the cobra clutch, figure-four leglock, Boston Crab and Texas Cloverleaf. I felt good. We also briefly covered elbowdrops and legdrops. Those babies will need a little more work, but I’ve got the general idea.

I was able to cover so much that day because it was just myself and another student named Jared at the lesson. Jared is an absolute prodigy. The trainers call him “WWE.” He drives over the border from Washington just to do these classes. He’s about 6’1’’, 200 pounds, and he’s smoooooooth in the ring. Excellent form, and athletically gifted. He’s already popping moonsaults and 450s on the practice dummy. I think it’s safe to say Jared has been living and breathing wrestling before he came to the House of Pain. His brother also comes up to train, and he’s a carbon copy of Jared. Yikes. If they keep at it, they’ve got one hell of a shot.

The House of Pain holds its own shows on most Sundays, so I stuck around after the lesson and did sound again, this time with two CD players and more of a clue as to what my job was. Not a well rehearsed clue, but a clue nonetheless. The HoP shows are a chance for some of the students to get some live action in a low-pressure setting. The crowds are sparse, and those that come know that it’s a student showcase for the most part. More seasoned wrestlers will also appear on the card. One of the most positive things I’ve found about ECCW is that people get a chance to wrestle frequently. Many indie promotions hold a handful of cards per month, and it’s difficult for some people to get into the mix. It’s impossible to develop your craft without getting into the ring on a consistent basis. People have come from as far away as Ontario and Puerto Rico to be here. Not too shabby.

On Monday, I went to the gym to take a fitness test to see what kind of progress I’ve made on the physical front. I was pleasantly surprised. I’ve dropped from 185 to 180 pounds while gaining muscle mass, and my cardio has improved significantly. And this is having lifted zero weights since I began wrestling classes. I’ve just started a new weight program, and I’ll get more into the bodybuilding aspect of things in next week’s column.

Tuesday was Lesson Six, with The Man They Call Bubba acting as trainer. Cardio work was ramped up a bit, followed by tumbling drills. We went over the hip toss. The timing of my bumps was way off, frustratingly so. Side slams (ah, Dino Bravo, we harldy knew ye) were next, but I was absolutely not ready to take them. I felt like a wimp backing out, but I felt I needed to get the timing right on my falls. Going backward is a problem for me, for some reason. The fear aspect is there, I won’t lie. But if I know where the mat is, I can take the bump. We did DDTs next, and those are scary, but the mat is there, in my field of vision. During the fall, it’s easy for the brain to do the calculus that tells it when the impact is going to come and how to deal with it. I took a couple of headers, but I was generally all right.

Fortunately for me, the House of Pain has a trampoline, and it was put on the floor for the first time after the lesson. Before leaving, I was able to practice falling backward, and without fear of breaking my neck, I could get a much better sense of the timing of the fall after just a few attempts. It should make a huge difference in my progress.

Wednesday was a day in the gym, and the debut of NWA-TNA, which I was fortunate enough to have available on my Bell ExpressVu. Immo’s gotta tell ya, after seeing the show, then reading some of the recaps on the web, it reminded my of Akira Kurosawa’s Rashomon. Everyone had a different version of what happened. One said the announcers made no jokes about the tag team of The Johnsons, Richard and Rod, one did (they did). One said the video work was good, one said it was lame (it was in-between). As for myself, the highlight of the night was The Flying Elvises, especially Jimmy Yang. Love the gimmick, love the “X Division,” as they are calling it. We need more Elvis mannerisms, though. Like the claw. I suggest a course in Dread Zeppelin 101 before their next appearance.

Well, Immo’s gotta go get ready for another round of physical abuse at the hands of Disco Fury. Stay well, and always remember the immortal words of The Bezerker: Huss! Huss!

Peace.  

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