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The Wrestling-Reality Connection: Part 1 of 2

posted by Eric on 5/17/02

There's something that a lot of Whatever-Dude's readers probably don't know about our early writing days, and that's the fact that most of us who write at W-D got our start writing online about pro wrestling and met through the Internet's infamous wrestling opinionated scene. At one point or another, Dave, Paul, Matthew, Fillipo, and myself, joined by former W-D writers B and Emerson, all frequented this 'scene' that I speak of. When Fouff found out about all of our connected pasts filled with wrestling adventure and intrigue, he became jealous of our past misadventures and is currently playing catch up at a random wrestling column website… he is Canadian, after all, and Canadians are silly. Especially the long-haired ones who pinch their own nipples. At any rate, I'm letting you in on these trade secrets because today I'll be telling you a story of sports-entertainment… a story of my personal reality.

Let me give you a bit of background… When I first signed online in mid-1996, I signed up for any professional wrestling newsletter or mailing list available at the time. The whole Internet was fairly new to those who would revolutionize this medium, and the information available was just beginning to come together to form the information superhighway. No one, especially the 'net wrestling scene, seemed to know what they were doing. The writers and the news reporters, professional or amateur, all seemed very green and in dyer need of experience in all aspects of the Internet and the bowels within. For Christ's sake, the first time I went to I was greeted by a scanned trading card of Goldust and his mini-biography with a link button going to the 'superstar search' page. If the 'big time' was that bad, imagine how horrid the rest of the 'net wrestling scene was.

Then there was me, all excited to have my fingertips at this amazing and unique information. Getting insanely wet for that blessed info, I signed up for anything and everything I could with no knowledge of the consequences I'd face because of my actions. This was my connection to the inner-wrestling world, I thought, and I was about to go to a level in wrestling knowledge that few before me had achieved. Now, while most of these wrestling newsletters were just crap, some others were just complete and utter crap. In part, this kind of useless shit is what inspired me to start writing about wrestling in the first place. God knows I couldn't have done any worse than most of the so-called writers around at that time, so I started polishing my childish sense of humor and mediocre writing style… and here I am, seven years later, writing for the world's very first pop culture website. From the parties who inspired me to write, I would receive nothing except forwards with themes like "You know when you're a real professional wrestling fan when…" and a list of 10 blatantly thrown-together and horribly illogical thoughts like "You know when you're a real professional wrestling fan when you're too busy watching WWF Monday Night Raw or WCW Monday Nitro to study for your big test the next day!!!1"

Fuck that. Every moment of my life is filled with real instances relating directly to wrestling, so much so that I've created a theory that I've yet to disprove based upon my beliefs. My personal reality is interlaced with fact and fiction from the sports-entertainment world, because aside from my family and my love of the film industry, professional wrestling has been one of a few constants in my life from a very young and impressionable age.

Now, I've never claimed to be a serious scientist of any sort or even to know about why things are the way that they are in our world… but I do think about it, as I would assume most people do from time to time. I've questioned myself over and over, and the only answers that I can come up with are straight from the wrestling world. Using this logic, a few years ago I created something that I call The Wrestling-Reality Connection… this is, simply, my theory that you can relate professional wrestling scenarios to literally anything going on at any period of time in your life or in the lives of others. Same thing with people, places, and the like… if it can exist in reality, it can and will exist somewhere in the past, present, or future of pro wrestling. Professional wrestling, as a marketing tool, was written to reflect real life people and situations. Storylines and characters within are often outrageous, but they did, in fact, have their roots planted deep in the fertile soil of the real world. When wars were going on in the real world, wrestlers portraying characters from said wars acted out intriguing storylines inside of the squared-circle. Same thing with religious beliefs, sexual fantasies, relationships with family and friends, and so on. At one time, there were thousands of small wrestling promotions… which means that thousands of creative minds with millions of collective experiences, ideas, and stories went into their final product for fans to see and enjoy. With that in mind, my Wrestling-Reality Connection theory is anything but farfetched… at the very least this discovery is the ultimate Wrestling-Reality Connection.

Don't you realize by now that if you do something in your every day life that, thanks to the space-time continuum, it's bound to turn up in the world of professional wrestling at some point in the entertainment medium's history!? Marty, do you realize what this means!? Where we‘re going, we don‘t need roads... just wrestling tights!!

In the past, I've described the Wrestling-Reality Connection as wrestling's little home in the space-time continuum… because when you get down to the simple facts, that's obviously what it comes down to. I've also claimed it could merely be all the proof that someone needs that I'm overly addicted to sports-entertainment, or maybe even some intriguing evidence to support the possibility that I may have a strange psychic power, with a very appropriate 'wrestling gimmick.' I'm sure that most of you have at least a basic understanding of what I'm talking about, and those of you who are die-hard or even casual wrestling fans will soon be able to make notable Wrestling-Reality Connections for yourself. If you do, please do send them my way as I hope to host a collection of examples to support the theory and send it to Congress to get the Nobel Piece Prize or even a golden star on my paper… I'm not picky, but I do want some status of celebrity for my achievements and discoveries. Before we get too ahead of ourselves, though, let me give start giving you instances that I'll serve up as proof that the Wrestling-Reality Connection is, indeed, the truth that we've all been seeking.

Nearly everyone knows that TLC's Lisa "Left-Eye" Lopez died a few weeks ago tragically in a car accident. As an example of this bizarre belief system that I've created, let me explain how this situation was instantaneously a wrestling-reality connection for me, as I'll communicate my exact thoughts after hearing the news:

"Left-Eye was driving when Arn Anderson from the Four Horsemen of Apocalypse did a run in and took her out with a steel chair to the face? Too bad someone didn't tell her not to go chasing waterfalls or that when she saw a red light special, she should stop. I always knew that her wearing a condom over her left eye was a bad idea when she got behind the wheel. You remember a few years ago when she set her boyfriend/manager/producer's mansion on fire? I guess one could say that she walked through hell's fire and brimstone, which would be appropriate now because I hear that her face was so beaten in the accident that the best way to look at her was from behind a mask similar to Kane's. Maybe her father was Paul Bearer, too. Either way, she'll be in need of his services right about now. I guess this spoiler's common knowledge now, but Left-Eye is slated to lose her upcoming 'casket match' against the Undertaker… and the rumored 'buried alive match' at this month's pay-per-view extravaganza Judgment Day has got to be out of the question at this point."

Strangely ironic, eh? It's not that I didn't feel bad after hearing the news, but my initial reaction in life, no matter the situation, is to always find the connection with professional wrestling before I let reality actually sink in. Some wrestling fans say that this is a gift, but for me, the choice to lead a normal life was never there. This is my life… this is my curse.

Now, I want to point out a period of three days that I had this week (the week that I had my wisdom teeth removed) because it proved to have a few notable connections that may further explain my theory. When I found out that I'd be having my wisdom teeth finally taken out at the age of 21, I decided that I'd be staying the week back at home with my parents so they could help take care of me if need be. Also, this choice would allow me the opportunity to take a week off of work and just be a complete bum. Ironically, it reminded me of a time I mentioned earlier when the wrestling net scene was just starting to take off and I started doing a lot of writing in the fall of 1996. I was doing nothing with my life besides going to high school and my responsibilities were at an all-time minimum… it was truly a writer's dream.

The fact that wrestling legend Mick Foley and I both are now missing teeth is a great example of the Wrestling-Reality Connection that exists all around us... so is the fact that, in that picture, I‘m doped up on some of the best pain medication known in the wrestling world. Maybe I‘ll become addicted then graduate to heroin and cocaine, and get to hang out with Jake “The Snake“ Roberts and his portly daughter.

At any rate, last Tuesday was the day that I had been putting off for four years of my life now, the day where I would have four teeth violently removed from my mouth. Two of my favorite all-time wrestlers, Mick Foley and Chris Benoit, are missing teeth because a situation took place where they had teeth violently extracted from their mouths in various matches over the years (Connection #1). Obviously, I demanded the strongest anesthesia that the oral surgeon could offer… I wasn't looking forward to this surgery, and I damn sure wanted to make it as easy as it possibly could have been. When the time came for them to put me out was upon me, I started playing mind games with myself. As the nurse prepared my intervenes drip and gave me the first shots of anesthesia and novacaine, I was reminded of how my dentist must have looked like an insane Vince McMahon in a leather revolving chair with the letters "nWo" painted on the back, talking about how he was gonna kill it and inject me with a lethal dose of poison, much like the month prior to bringing wrestling's New World Order to the WWF (Connection #2).

I have this thing, where every time I'm put under for a test or surgery or what have you, I fight off that anesthetic for as long as I can. In my mind, one of the best feelings in the world is when your body is completely fucked up but your mind is still straight… oh, if only I were handicapped. I'm sure my opinion would change if these situations would last more than a few minutes at a time, but until that time, I'll be dreaming of my day in the hardcore handicapped heaven. At any rate, as soon as I started to fight off the drugs I was given, my mind shoots back to the Royal Rumble a few years ago when The Rock was playing the part of the "corporate champion" against Mick Foley's "idiot with a sock," and Mick took like 13 chair-shots while handcuffed at the end of a half-hour match. It doesn't get much more hardcore than that, folks, and in wrestling this is the kind of things legends are made of. Through the fault of what I like to think of as 'the candy of the gods,' I became Mick Foley trying to survive against The Rock and keep my championship in the reclining dental chair that day (Connection #3). As every moment passed and the medication continued to pulse through my veins like Hulkamania (Connection #4), I faded away and eventually blacked out. I woke up 45 minutes later strapped down to a chair, obviously gagged, in a dark room where my parents were talking to each other about the family pets. I was instantly reminded of the set up for Wrestlemania X-8 where Scott Hall, in his promos for his match with Steve Austin, continuously said "Austin, you want to treat me like an animal? Well at Wrestlemania, Austin, I'm gonna treat you like an animal." and the night where he was taken hostage by Stone Cold and pushed around the arena strapped into the leather chair (Connection #5). And to think… I hadn't even left the doctor's office yet.

My dream of dreams is to have a close personal friend who is an ugly, crooked dentist so I can have him take care of my every desire while I dress in purple tights trimmed in white and red and wear a crown. I'm really into that kinky fetish shit.

A couple days later, a problem arose… what I'm told are called "dry sockets" developed in the holes where my wisdom teeth used to hold down fort, and as a result, I was in excruciating pain. I went to the oral surgeon's office at the direction of the receptionist who I spoke with on the phone only to find out that my doctor was now out of town… he was completely incognito. His friend, who was working as my doctor's apprentice, would be the one to help me out. This instantly reminded me of the month leading to SummerSlam '95 where Jerry Lawler was plagued with an injury so he brought in his "good friend and dentist" Isaac Yankem, D.D.S., to take care of Bret Hart for him (Connection #6). As I didn't have the pleasure of being knocked out this time around, they just slipped me some Novocain and went to work. I was awake while this big fucking guy was leaning over me with a deranged look in his eyes drilling and poking at what I knew to be my teeth and gums. I did have the pleasure of being so pumped full of novacaine, though, that I couldn't fill my face for the rest of the day which meant minimal pain. This did give me a problem, however, when it came time to eat. My mother had bought me a take out creamed chicken and biscuits dinner at a local diner because I was still officially on a soft food diet for the week… but the gravy, potatoes, and chunks of chicken just seemed to dribble down my mouth and all over my clothes. Of course I didn't feel how much of a slob I was because I was so numb still. By the time that I realized that I was missing my mouth half of the time, I was covered in my food and looked like a curly-haired, 200lb. Bastion Booger from the WWF's wildly unpopular 'New Generation' (Connection #7).

The next morning, I awoke to my mother telling me that we had kittens. She must be mistaking, I thought, because all of our cats were fixed. The last thing my father wants is another damn cat around the house, as he's strictly a dog man and already has to deal with 5 of my mother's favorite felines romping about the Fields Estate. So I dismissed the notion that we had kittens to the fact that she was rockin' the ganja, which reminded me of when X-Pac made his return to the WWF from WCW on RAW the night after Wrestlemania 14 to join Degeneration-X, telling Eric Biscoff and Hulk Hogan to "stick that in your pipe and smoke it" (Connection #8). Then I laughed because X-Pac makes me giggle like a school girl getting tickled by her daddy on a Saturday morning just before breakfast. Indeed.

At any rate, my mother kept yelling for me to come and see what she had found, so I slowly got out of bed and went to see these alleged kittens… and there they were. Four little gray and white kittens were now a part of our family. We assumed that a stray had snuck into our suburban garage to have her kittens to protect them from the elements or had carried them in at an ample opportunity for the same reason. Cats are smarter than a lot people give them credit for, methinks. All they do is like sit back, chilling and being all smart and shit, then they eat and sleep whenever they damn well please. Fuck me if that isn't the life. Anyway, the stray mother cat had her babies in an old cardboard box with all kinds of tools and oily old towels in it… obviously not the most comfortable or sanitary place for the kittens, and my mother, the animal lover, had to change the bedding and make a nice little resting place for them. We figured no harm, no foul. We were helping the little guys, after all.

Somehow, though, the mother cat knew the jig was up. She snatched one of the kittens away that morning after I went back to bed, and another one later that night. Unfortunately, though, she abandoned the other two… the last two standing. We tried to lure her back by not touching the remaining kittens, thus giving them our scent, and by putting bowls of food and saucers of milk out. We figured that she'd come back for these two as she did for the first two, but the useless stray came back and ate the food we left, only to still leave without her babies. Immediately after we realized that they looked like they weren't going to make it and noticed that the mother had not come back for them, we took them in and began nursing them back to health. Sadly, as a result, the night we took the two kittens in one of them died because of the situation their mother created. Most people think, "Awe, that's so sad that the mother cat abandon her little kittens to die." Not me, though, because I figured that the 'big brother upstairs' was involved in the situation to make sure that everything turns out for the best (Connection #9). Though that may be the case, I still I teared up like a little girl when that little kitten died. I took her to the backyard with a little toy mouse that I hoped to send with her when we found her a home, wrapped her in a soft towel to protect her body from the elements, and buried her in one of my mother's flower gardens to put her frail little body to rest in a peaceful place. I even said a little prayer for her. It may have been nature just taking its course, and I am happy that the kitten didn't have to suffer more than she already did, but it's still such a shame because she was so young and never given a fair shake at life. I hope her mother gets caught in a bear trap and dies a painful death… the bitch.

Anyway, there was still one kitten struggling for his life… a little boy. I've taken him in and have been taking care of him for almost a week now. He has shown a lot of improvement over the week and seems to be improving as every day goes by, so it didn't take me long to realize that he is truly is Tough Enough (Connection #10). I have since lead the little guy to his birthright and given him the name of Maven, and will continue to nurse him back to health through this crucial period in his life -- all because his selfish mother/trainer didn't see fit to do her duty. But no worries, I won't let him become just another tombstone on the wall… he's definitely got what it takes to make it to the big time. I have no doubt that little Maven will reach his full potential some day. He'll become a happy, healthy cat with a family who loves him, all thanks to me becoming his new trainer. It's tough for me to be both mommy and daddy to this cute little man, but, just as he is Tough Enough, I'm man enough to get the job done. I'll teach him to take bumps and to cut promos, and I'll bottle feed him and wipe his ass with a wet rag until he's able to be litter trained. Then he'll make his debut in the big-time at his new home and no doubt become a huge success, living a happy and long life.

The resemblance between the two Mavens is truly uncanny, don't you think? The biggest similarity is the fact that both are frail little pussies with bushy eyebrows.

So you see, three days of my life go by and there were 10 very notable Wrestling-Reality Connections to share…and I could probably recall more if I wasn't pleasantly doped up at the moment on Percocet. God bless this shit. As you can see, though, these connections can be very subtle and can go unseen by the common fan, but they are always present, no matter what the situation. It's just a matter of being able to recognize them, and coming into the Wrestling-Reality frame of mind.

Now, as much as I'd love to make everything convenient for all of you, I've decided against that. I worked hard to write this piece of literary genius, so you should have to work hard to read it. How do you like 'dem apples? That's right, I've gone and split this sumbitch into two separate articles. Can you blame me? It is massive, after all. On the plus side, it makes me look like I did twice the work. My name now appears on the main page of back to back in feature length articles. Only in a two-part piece is something like that possible… but whatever the situation, I welcome it as well as the fanfare that comes along with it. If you're having trouble putting all of this together, just think of it like back-to-back episodes of Friends at 6 & 6:30pm, except you don't have to deal with the "entertaining" antics of everyone's favorite friend, David Schwimmer. So take a ride through space and time courtesy of my transport of choice, the bone coaster, and read Part Two of The Wrestling-Reality Connection!!

-Eric F'N Fields

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