CHAPTER 40
“Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall, and is for the GWA World Heavyweight Title,” said Mardi Carter, Revolution’s ring announcer. “Introducing first, from Memphis Tennessee, weighing in at two-hundred and twenty pounds, Joey Mayhem!”
Joey stepped into the arena to a clamor of cheers. This crowd was thrilled to see him. If only they knew.
If all was going well on Steve’s end, right now, with Joey’s name having just been announced, the statement would be up on the web. Of course, most fans were watching the show, not surfing the net, but there would be a few who would see it soon. They would call their friends, who would look and then call their friends. In ten minutes, hundreds of thousands of fans would have read Joey’s statement, “Why I Will Not Follow the Script Tonight.”
There was no turning back now.
Joey walked quickly to the ring. It was important to get these introductions over and the match underway before anyone backstage saw or heard about what had just shown up on the web.
“And introducing second, from Los Angeles California, weighing in at two-hundred eighty pounds, Goliath!”
The house lights faded. Goliath’s intimidating heavy metal guitar riff started. He entered the arena to a flash of pyrotechnics, then roared at the audience like a crazed animal. From a hundred feet away, Joey could see the craze in Goliath’s eyes. His body was pumped more full of chemical enhancers than in their last match. As Goliath walked to the ring, under the guise of friendliness, Joey wanted to turn and run. When Goliath stepped through the ropes, and gave a pose to the crowd, muscles bulging out of his arms and chest, Joey had to turn away, or he would have lost his nerve.
“Gentlemen, approach the center of the ring,” said Aaron Grant, the referee. Joey and Goliath approached, standing on either side of Grant, who held up the World Title Belt between them, in a show for the camera.
“Gentlemen, I want a clean fight,” said Grant. “No closed-fist punches, no chokes, and no funny business. First pinfall or submission wins the title. Now go back to your corners and wait for the bell.”
Joey rolled his head around his shoulders as he walked back to the corner. The rules normally were just part of the show. Tonight they were important. Once Grant figured out what Joey was doing, he would call backstage for instructions. Backstage, they would probably decide that Grant should find a way to disqualify Joey, meaning Joey would have to follow the rules carefully.
The bell rang. The two men strode to the center, then snapped into a head-collar lock up, the first planned spot.
“Ease up a bit Joey. I’m going to throw you into the corner,” said Goliath, reminding Joey of the plan to start the match with Goliath winning the show of strength.
Now is the time, Joey thought to himself. Just get it started and it will be over soon.
“I’m not jobbing tonight,” Joey said, feeling a rush of adrenalin as he voiced the words. “I know everything, Goliath.
From the confines of their lock-up, Joey could see the surprise on Goliath’s face, but before Goliath could react, Joey rolled behind him, grabbing his left hand on the way and stretching it behind his back in a hammerlock.
The hammerlock was a standard spot in professional wrestling. The victim’s arm is bent awkwardly behind his back and the victim pretends to yelp out in pain. Many matches began with this hold. No one ever submitted to it.
Tonight Joey hoped that convention would be different, for the hammerlock, perhaps the most simple hold in all of wrestling, was as painful as they came if applied for real. Joey stretched Goliath’s arm much further than he would in a typical, scripted match. The pain Goliath was selling was undoubtedly real.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Goliath said between squeals.
“I know everything,” Joey said quietly. “If you want to leave here with the belt, you’ll have to pin me.”
“Jesus Christ,” said Goliath, then reached for the ropes with his good hand.
Goliath managed to touch the ropes with his right finger before Joey pulled him back away.
“Make him break the hold,” Goliath said to Grant, then shrieked in more pain.
Grant, looking thoroughly confused, ran around Goliath and started yelling at Joey.
“Come on, he made it to the ropes. Break the hold,” he yelled, then added in a whisper, “What the fuck’s going on here?”
Joey kept the hammerlock on, squeezing tighter.
“Come on!” yelled Grant. “One...two...three...four..”
Joey broke the hold just before Grant reached five, the number at which Joey could be disqualified. As soon as Joey let go, Goliath whipped his right elbow back, nailing Joey in the face and sending him to the floor. Joey landed, dizzy, with numbness in his nose and teeth. He rolled himself up, preparing to stand, but only got to his knees before Goliath was on top of him, swallowing him in a front face lock.
Goliath squeezed around Joey’s cheeks, the strength of a huge bicep and forearm pressing against his skull. It was easily the worst pain Joey had ever felt.
“If you want to do this, we’ll do this, but it’ll be short, and you’ll be dead when it’s done,” Goliath said.
Not knowing if it would make a difference or not, Joey reached out with his left foot and found the bottom ring rope. Technically, with his foot on the rope, the ref would have to break the hold.
Through the squeezing on his ears, Joey could hear Grant counting, “One...two...”
At five, Goliath broke the hold. Grant immediately jumped between them, and pushed Goliath away from Joey.
The crowd booed. It wasn’t normal for a ref to actively break up the fighting so early in a pro wrestling match.
Joey rolled into the corner, and used the turnbuckles to help him stand. He was dizzy. His nose was bleeding from the elbow to the face. It was probably broken. Grant had taken Goliath to the opposite corner, no doubt to ask him what was going on, and maybe to relay some instructions coming from Max backstage via Grant’s headpiece. Maybe this match was going to get canned.
Leaving Goliath in the opposite corner, Grant walked up to Joey.
“Max wants me to tell you that if you don’t follow the script, you get no money. It’s in your contract,” said Grant.
Exhausted, and feeling sick, Joey nodded. He would do whatever had to be done to keep this thing going. Max obviously wasn’t aware yet of Joey’s statement on the Internet. This wasn’t about the money.
Eyeing Joey warily, Grant stepped out of the way so the match could continue. As soon as the path to Goliath was clear, Joey charged. He sprinted out five forward steps and buried his shoulder in Goliath’s gut in a brutal tackle, sending both men to the ground in a heap.
Joey landed on top, and grabbed for whatever was there. A hand, Goliath pulled away. An arm. Goliath rolled through. A leg. Goliath kicked like a mule. He got hold of a foot.
Joey was now on his knees, holding Goliath’s left foot, while Goliath lay on his back, far from the ropes. Joey had no idea if the ubiquitous ankle lock, a wrestling staple, had any basis in the real world. It had never been part of Joey’s repertoire. But here he was, in a perfect spot to try it.
Apparently, he applied the ankle lock correctly. Goliath screamed right away. It was a shriek out of hell. Joey smiled, realizing this hold might win him the match.
Joey didn’t know that the ankle lock, when applied in real shoot fights, was always done from a standing position, because kneeling or squatting leaves an opening for the victim. Since Joey remained on his knees, Goliath was able to use his free leg to heel-kick Joey in the back of the head. The crowd gasped at the brutality of the blow. Joey lost his grip on Goliath’s ankle and fell forward. Face down on the mat, Joey realized his eyes were open but he couldn’t see. Just as the horror of blindness set in, the blackness faded to a blurry haze, like an old television warming from darkness to picture.
He could feel the
mat shake underneath him. Goliath had stood up. Under any normal circumstance, Joey would have given up here. He couldn’t think straight. He was about to wretch. But some instinct, buried deeper than any rational thought, took over, and as Goliath reached down to put Joey in another front facelock, Joey’s right hand shot upward, nailing Goliath’s chin with the base of his palm. Goliath staggered back, and Joey rolled to the edge of the ring and under the bottom rope. He slid out of the ring, landing on the floor below in a quiet thud.