Truth be told, I have been writing about professional wrestling, on the internet, for a long time. I can’t remember exactly which site for which I used to do both Monday night recaps and (actual) ECW reviews; Geocities for sure. I’ve mentioned it before.
I graduated high school in 2000, but I probably gave up on wrestling a year before that. The peak Attitude Era did not speak to me. ECW on… TNN?… No. WCW made me sad. And I also became a different person. I am very good at that.
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I was a tape trader. Those tapes are gone. I was a ceramics maker. Those ceramics are gone. I was a zine maker, meticulous pages carved out of paper and my words and my heart, a piece of art they were; all gone. I really lament the loss of my zine flats. I have my teenage journals though, and half of what I wrote was pro wrestling-centric. But I have to accept what is gone is gone. It’s gone. There is a landfill somewhere that contains half of my life. Half of my life is in the trash, and that’s what it is. I guess I’ve been working really, really hard to trash this other half of my life.
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It’s nice to have pro wrestling as an anchor.
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MY ZINE FLATS ARE ROTTING IN A LANDFILL SOMEWHERE WHAT THE FUCK MY HUNDREDS OF HOURS OF CERAMIC WORK IT IS SO UN FUCKING FAIR HOLY SHIT
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Sorry.
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One time, a long time ago, I wanted to be a pro wrestler. And at the time I was fearless. One time, a few years ago, I wanted to be a pro wrestling manager. And at the time I was scared to death and could not even do a somersault. I thought about health insurance (which I didn’t have) and the myriad things one things about when they do pro wrestling training in any capacity over the age of 30. If I had ever “had it,” I had certainly lost it, from a physical perspective.
I realize now, that if I did get training at age 16, 17, 18 and went on to do something, the best I would have achieved was a bra and panties match on some throwaway In Your House show. I certainly wouldn’t want to be tagging with Becky Lynch on RAW in 2023 as a 41-year old. I do know that.
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I kinda just wanted to be Francine.
I knew about ECW, read about ECW, but I had never seen ECW. I knew it was available somewhere, at some time, from my little Western PA cable company. Then it happened: I might have these timelines screwed up and I can check those aforementioned diaries for confirmation, but Princess Diana died in the midst of a Beavis and Butthead marathon on MTV. Every — and I mean, EVERY — channel went to Diana coverage and I flipped around. Lo and behold: ECW. It was 2AM (eastern).
I don’t remember if it was a recap or a live show from the previous week at the Arena, I just know that I saw Francine turn on The Pitbulls, join the Triple Threat, and then take a Superbomb from the top rope through a table (or two?) on the outside of the ring, to the floor. Me, (who had never seen AJPW women, mind you), had her little mind blown. “WOMEN CAN DO THAT??!” Was my first thought. That Francine also graduated Taz’s Dojo had me hooked.
“I want to go through a table.”
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I’ve not been through a table.
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In the last 10-plus years, I’ve done a lot of writing. There were days, in my NFL days, my early ones, in which I wrote 750 or more words 14 times per day, every day, six days a week. And I spent years working 16 hour days, for that, and for this. I truly love writing and I love pro wrestling. I love pro wrestling. I just got so burnt out — juice not being worth the squeeze and such. Things became so much different. Things are so much different.
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What I wanted and thought I needed are gone. Half my life is in the trash, after all. I have to live with it. But I love pro wrestling. That remains. At least, good or bad, that remains.
Love,
Andrea