Celebrating WWE and Wrestling: "I Am a Wrestler, Let Me Wrestle"
Projects, Assignments, More Assignments, EXAMINATIONS! These are just a few adjectives that describe my life at college, which I just started a month and a half ago.
A year ago, as I started my final year at high school, all I could think about was college. But much to my own undoing, I looked at it with a rose-tinted glass and expected to get nothing but hours of countless fun. Much to my surprise, this wasn't the case...
As I sat in my math class—not digesting anything my teacher was teaching me—I switched off from the virtual mind and went into my world of fantasy: the world of professional wrestling!
Eyes closed. Mathematical formulas out of my way. I am just a soul wandering along the virtual world of professional wrestling!
I see a boy as he sits and watches wrestling with a bunch of his friends on prime-time television. He and his friends jump up at the mere glance of anything that can be described as "athletic." The group of friends are sipping sodas from their cans and like true Americans, relishing popcorn along with it. They are completely unaware of the outside world, not caring, not paying attention. Wrestling is the only thing on their minds.
But sitting among them is an individual who is not jolly.
He sits rather steadily and is observant of the wrestler's antics and maneuvers. His eyes, his breath, his expressions scream one thing, "I am a wrestler, let me wrestle."
He is not genetically built for it, but his eyes tell a different story. His eyes have that brightness and the look of confidence which one looks for in a person who aspires to become a wrestler—despite all odds.
It looks like he suddenly has an epiphany: "Wrestling is what I am here for, wrestling is what I will do."
With this epiphany, he gathers the tools to lay the foundation for his goal.
He goes and speaks to his parents about it. His parents, like everyone else's, think about the well-being of their child first and downplay his goal on grounds of innocence and immaturity.
Gutted! The boy with bright eyes has no option but to chose between his passion and his family and well-being. Unlike many others, his priorities are directed towards his passion, directed towards a path which guarantees nothing but hours of merciless hard work with no assured rewards.
A new day begins and so does a new life. The bright-eyed boy leaves his family, goes far away and joins a dungeon run by former well-known wrestlers.
The wrestlers at the dungeon are not impressed by him at first sight, but he is confident that with time he will be able to make the wrestlers eat their words.
A mere 17-year-old rookie aims to make the wrestlers eat their own words just at first sight. His passion for wrestling has already started showing its true colors.
Sessions at training, Days, weeks, months and years of hard work roll by as the now fully grown adult is ready to hit the squared circle.
Yes! He had made the legends eat their own words, but would he be able to proudly call himself a WWE-employee?
Unfortunately, life is not a bed filled with roses and neither was his. He is rejected by the WWE officials because they find him too "short" of a wrestler to invest in. All the years of hard work, physical and mental torture and loneliness go down the drain in a matter of seconds.
Dejected! Broken! Demoralized! He has nothing to fall back on. He already decided to leave his family, hoping that one day he would prove himself to them. His ego won't allow him to go back to them.
He is forced to work in the small leagues, as they are his only choice. The money-making corporations won't hire him.
He now has two stomachs to fill.
His girlfriend is pregnant with his baby, his mind is engulfed with tension. He carries this into the ring, into a wrestling match where he botches an over the top rope Moonsault and injures himself and his opponent blisteringly.
He not only loses a couple of months from wrestling, but loses his job at the independent promotion and even loses his girlfriend. All he has is himself!
His friends, his cousins and even his family members who hear about this dismiss it as his mistake and brand him as a failure for life who will have to live off of others. He becomes a social outcast.
All of a sudden, my wandering around the fantasy world of pro wrestling comes to an end. I switch on, find myself in my math class and I start to think that maybe professional wrestling is just NOT what we see, think or hear about.
Maybe not every person is a John Cena, maybe not every person is a Daniel Bryan. Maybe many wrestlers have had careers that ended even before they started and took a lot away from their lives.
All of a sudden, pro wrestling started seeming like something I should never have spent hours watching in the first place, as it only shows the successful stars and does not focus on the others who worked equally hard but were not lucky enough to get past the line.
Just as I was about to put a stop on my association with pro wrestling, I heard a voice. I heard the voice of the same bright-eyed boy who dreamed of making it big one day.
And the voice said: "I am a wrestler, let me wrestle".
His statement confused me. How could he still make that statement, how could that still be possible? Was I ignoring something? Yes! I was.
The voice explained: "Wrestling was my passion and I was born to do it. I loved, respected and treasured every moment of my life when I practiced and wrestled. I am still wrestling with myself and my body and preparing it to get back into that ring one day. I am still wrestling with myself, let me wrestle..."
And like a bullet, his words hit me.
All of a sudden the tantrums that I used to throw due to an excess load of studies stopped. (You can even check my twitter, as then I tweeted that I am loving college in spite of everything.) The pain of living away from my parents in a hostel with food that I hate suddenly vanished.
I suddenly started to look at myself as an adult who does not have the license to act like a child but seeks to solve his problems on his own.
Within one moment, I started to look at myself as a wrestler who wrestles with life every day. Be it with the assignments that don't seem to end, with the lack of freedom at college, with the food that does not suit my taste or with a hostel which so does not suit the protected environment I have grown up in.
The mere fact that I could associate myself with wrestling one more time, and in a positive way, has been awe-inspiring.
The truth is, we are all wrestlers (although not as risk-taking, athletic or physical as the REAL ones are). The only problems is that we don't allow ourselves to wrestle when we have to go out of our comfort zones.
Whenever any voice tells you that you can't and laughs at your failure, just tell him/her: "I am a wrestler, let me wrestle."
Note To The Bleacher Creatures: People, today I am celebrating 50 articles at this venue. It is surprising that I wrote so much after I, "by chance," wrote my first article here. Anyways, it has been a good time here and I would really like to thank everyone who has been supportive, constructively critical and appreciative of my work. Thank You!
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