[05May27]
“Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.”
~Cormac McCarthy, American novelist and playwright
For those who have read the first part of this story, I left off at a point right before I was preparing to take “bumps” for the first time. For those who are picking up here, this is (as the title suggests) the second part of a story I had written about a week ago. Imagine (Me) Wrestling (part 1) is available on Imagine Wrestling’s social media. The story details how I came to train with Kato at Imagine Wrestling and how things went during my first day. Before I dive into the second portion of the Imagine (Me) Wrestling story, I want to acknowledge the significance of the Memorial Day holiday by sharing a small piece of insight into my life’s overall journey and what my path has looked like outside of a wrestling ring.
“Pride, Humility, and The Road So Far” may be the title I settled on for telling a story related to Imagine Wrestling, but it also fits my own personal connection to Memorial Day.
I have had the honor and pride of serving in uniform beside some of the best people I have known in my life. Unfortunately, I have also been humbled by the experience of watching some of those people –people I grew to know not only as friends, but family— slip away from life, knowing that –despite all of my ability and all of my training— I could do nothing to save them. Some were lost far from home, during various combat tours. Some were lost here, at home, for reasons that I am unsure I can put into words for those who have not been through the experience. Even now, it chokes me up and brings a tear to my eye as I consider that part of me was lost along the way too, the fresh flashes of laughs and conversations with people willing to literally put their lives on the line to protect mine (as I was willing to do for theirs) feel as fresh as yesterday.
To many, Memorial Day means simply an extra day off work, some hotdogs on a grill, and spending time with family, but I in no way begrudge that. On the contrary, having such a deep understanding of what it feels like to lose people has educated me on the value of time. Good memories are great, but being able to have time now with family, friends, and loved ones is something which cannot be replaced once they are gone. So, whether it’s eating a hotdog beside the pool this Memorial Day, picking up the phone to hear the voice of a loved one, or attending an Imagine Wrestling show with friends and family, I implore you to embrace the moment and enjoy it.
[The First Day continued]
“All, I have to do is get through one day.”
That was the thought which entered my brain as I watched the other (younger) trainees start to go through an introductory routine. I figured that, if I could at least power through one day –no matter how badly it might go— I at least made it this far and might be accepted enough to pick up on doing some of the creative and production stuff I had originally asked about. The introductory routine consisted of stretching, some light physical activity to get the blood flowing, and performing a series of “bumps.” Soon, it was my turn to perform the same.
In professional wrestling, a “bump” refers to both falling (or being slammed to) the ground or mat and the technique involved in learning how to do so in a way which protects the body from injury. Martial arts (such as Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and Judo) teach the same concept, but it is typically called a “breakfall” in martial arts. Imagine Wrestling teaches (as does any reputable professional wrestling group) three introductory-level bumps to new trainees: the back bump, the handstand bump, and the front (or flip) bump.
So, I nervously walked to the center of the ring for my first attempt at doing a back bump. Kato, the trainer (along with one of the more-experienced trainees) explained the technique and mechanics behind what I was trying to do. The idea was to cross my arms across my chest, tuck my chin into the top of my chest, place my feet roughly shoulder-width apart, bend my knees slightly, and then fling myself backward (as though a rug had been pulled from underneath my feet) and crash back-first into the mat, trying to flatten out my back so as to spread the impact across a wider surface area. So, there I was, as a group of people watched me attempt to take my first bump.
Between the general position of my body and knowing that everyone was watching me, the atmosphere was eerily reminiscent of being back in high school and attempting to score a clutch foul shot as teammates and fans in the bleachers anticipate impending greatness and victory or failure and mediocrity. On the bright side, there would be no long bus ride home if I did poorly; as an adult, I could simply walk out to my vehicle and drive home. I was not going to do poorly though. I needed a second to breathe and mentally short circuit the natural instinct to want to catch myself while falling, but I was about to completely ace this whole thing and be a wrestling prodigy, main-eventing somewhere the following week. In anticipation of my impending greatness, a hush fell over the dojo as I lined up for my winning shot.
…yeah, not so good.
Blam! I hit the mat, and the shock of the impact immediately rippled through my body as though I had been in a car crash. Unfortunately, I did not fully grasp the mechanics of the rug-pull feel of hitting the ground. Instead, when I kicked my feet out from underneath my body, what I did was more akin to hopping or jumping and then just allowing my body to crash to the ground. It hurt, and I was about to stand up and do it all over again until I performed it reasonably-well enough for Kato to feel I could attempt the next step.
Two of the biggest misconceptions about professional wrestling are that the surface of the mat is soft and that being taught how to bump removes the physical aspect of colliding with an inanimate object; both could not be further from the truth. While, different wrestling rings may have variances in how they are constructed, none that I have bumped in have been what I would consider soft or welcoming. It does not feel like landing on a trampoline; it does not feel like jumping on a bed or landing on a mattress; it feels like being in a (low-speed) car crash over and over again. Likewise, learning proper technique for taking a bump does help to prevent injury, but the impact is still very real. Being tossed to the ground in a judo bout still hurts, but a breakfall is intended to be the protective dividing line between physical pain and physical injury. Professional wrestling bumps are the same way.
“Do it again.”
That was first thing I heard from Kato after my body crashed into the ground. My back felt as though a bolt of liquid lightning had snuggled against my shoulders and spine, only to be rudely disturbed by a stone of impact being tossed into the center, causing the sensation to ripple outward through the rest of my body. My own pride about “manning up” bubbling from within and refusing to be a quitter, I quickly jumped to my feet and prepared to do it all over again. I was either going to get it right or I was going to break my body; I was not willing to accept packing my bags and going home on the first day. As Kato expected a certain standard to doing things, “do it again” is a phrase with which I quickly gained familiarity.
I do not recall exactly how many times I subjected myself to the process of feeling as though I had just been through a car crash before doing a passable-enough job to be granted enough faith to move onto the next step, but I think it was somewhere around five before being told, “we have some work to do, but I’ll take that for now.” Now, it was time to learn how to do more bumps, but ones which were more advanced and with more impact.
The name of the handstand bump perfectly captures the idea behind the technique of doing one. The basic idea is to begin in a standing position, step forward into a handstand, allow your body to tip over like a falling tree, and crash into the mat with the same basic form learned in the back bump: chin tucked and back wide and flat. I had no idea if I could perform a handstand at all, let alone combine doing one into the process of taking a bump, but I did feel confident in trying. Amusingly enough, my confidence in attempting a handstand bump came from being familiar with yoga poses I had learned during a class I chose to take to regain flexibility and rehab my body from previous physical injuries. I am exceptionally confident in my ability to perform what yoga calls “Baksana” (Crane Pose), so doing a handstand seemed as though it was a similar idea. My form was not perfect, but it took me less attempts to get through the handstand bumps than I had taken back bumps.
At this point, I had survived slamming myself into the ground multiple times, so I had no qualms about engaging the process a few more times, but getting over the mental hurdle of even attempting a front/flip bump was not easy. In a vacuum, I may have been completely cool with going for it the first time without much thought, but –right before my own attempts at bumps— I had visually witnessed one of the other trainees attempting a flip bump, and it looked a lot more like a train wreck than a car crash. Hitting the ground a few more times and sucking up a little bit more pain was something I was willing to accept, but the subconscious thought that I could potentially kill or paralyze myself on day one (with my own inner monologue being sure that I would forever be remembered at the dojo for being “the dude who had f’ed himself up on the first day”) was not something I was willing to accept.
The general idea of the flip bump has several similarities to the back bump: chin tucked, knees bent, and landing on your back. However, the big difference is in the idea of jumping, rotating forward as your legs come up over your head in a somersault-like motion, and then crashing to the mat.
I had performed similar movements on a trampoline, but, as said, a wrestling ring is most certainly not a trampoline. Without the added spring of a bouncy surface, the process of getting enough air to rotate my body around rested entirely on a pair of knees which had seen their best days at least a decade ago. On top of that, the fresh site of watching what could go wrong for somebody else weighed upon me. A lot could go wrong. I might torpedo the top of my skull straight into the ground; even worse, I might succeed in doing the flip, only to land directly on my neck. It had the potential to turn out horribly, and somehow I was unsure if the worst part of the whole prospect would be the possibility of catastrophic physical injury or if it would be engineering my own embarrassing demise in front of a group of people I had just met.
“Do you feel comfortable trying this?” asked Kato.
The reality was that I was not at all comfortable, so the sanething to do would have been to tell him that I was not comfortable. I could have been done with bumps for the day, and maybe tried a different day. That’s not what happened.
“Yeah, I think I can give it a try,” I answered.
Somehow, I cleared the thoughts from my mind and just went for the first attempt without thinking much about it. I hopped forward and allowed my knees to bend a little as though I was hitting a diving board. In the next moment, the world became a speeding blur as my head and body were propelled into rotation,and everything I could see squooshed around me before I collided with the ground. The sensation was somewhere between a spinning amusement park ride and tipping back one-too-many shots at a party before trying to walk home and crumpling to the ground.
Overall, the first time “wasn’t horrible,” but I landed higher on my back than I was supposed to and not quite straight. I was asked to try again, and, having gained some confidence in my ability to not kill or maim myself, I felt as though I could get it right on the second attempt.
My second attempt and the few which followed progressively became more and more of a disaster. I was unable to repeat the process of clearing my mind as I had done on the first attempt, and every attempt to think about what I was doing wrong and correct it became another piece of mental static which lead me even further down a road toward disaster. Eventually, Kato decided that he was uncomfortable with allowing me to attempt the process again. I decided to embrace the fact that I had not inadvertently killed myself during a wrestling tryout as a small victory. I was not in any worse shape than I had been prior to arriving.
After this point, there were a few simple things which I was given permission to do, but Kato eventually said that I would need to exit the ring and observe for the rest of that day’s training. The normal process for a first day was to sign a waiver, try bumps to get a feel for what it was like, and witness a day of training before paying to continue. Despite feeling as though I had been in several collisions and aching, being on the outside and looking in without being allowed to participate was what I hated the most.
Every step I had taken was to step through the ropes and see what being in the ring was like. Now, I could not unsee it. Kato’s ring was every bit as real to me as Plato’s Cave.
I knew I would be back.
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