Out Of The Shadows And Into The Asylum

Photo Courtesy of Wayne Rush

There is a rare currency that exists in professional wrestling that performers cannot barter for title reigns or extended pops from the crowd. It exists in the locker rooms, on the roads between shows, and in the anecdotes passed along at gatherings.

It is the friendships forged through trial, tribulations and success that define these performers. That's at least what I remind myself standing outside the Hanahan gymnasium last May, looking out of place with a pad I'm scribbling notes on.

It is the first Old School Championship Wrestling show I've seen in years, and I'm getting leering eyes from the patrons entering the gymnasium. They look at me like sharks sensing a flailing minnow in the ocean. Especially the gentleman carrying a replica title belt. Apparently he accepts challenges at any point via wayward stares from others. I quickly decline with a look-away and act like a profound limerick is guiding my pen.

"Showtime."

The faint sound of my former in-ring persona comes from around the corner of the building where the locker room door is. A tall gent wearing a ball cap and masking his face like a bandit from the wild west beckons my attention.

Despite masking his appearance, I recognize this black condor. Hello Brandon Smalls. Hello, old friend...

I first met Smalls eight years ago when I was auditioning to be a commentator/writer for another local independent wrestling promotion, CPWA (a forerunner to OSCW). Of course as fate would have it, I would quickly transition to becoming a wrestler, and most of my training would be working with Smalls under the tutelage of Tank Lewis.

But well before we would have our first match in a bowling alley, Smalls was just a young wrestling fan in Charleston attending NWA/WCW shows at the McCallister Field House and County Hall.

"My mother was and still is a huge wrestling fan. She would take me to all of the shows in Charleston and even wake me up to watch the Clash of the Champions and Saturday Main Event when they came on television. She was a huge influence on me as a wrestling fan."

After attending Voorhees College in Denmark, SC, Smalls returned to Charleston and officially threw caution to the wind by beginning the transition from wrestling fan to wrestling performer. His training had begun.

Immediately, Smalls was being packaged into a heel persona based upon the way he maneuvered his long frame in a stalking sort of manner. Inevitably he was given the performing name Shadow Stalker to personify his movements in the ring.

But Smalls had another element he wanted to bring to the character, based mostly out of the Black Scorpion angle during the early 90's in WCW. Something to create a dichotomy he craved between himself and his in-ring character: a mask.

"I felt it was different than what everyone was doing at the time. Everyone wants their face to be seen so that when they're outside of the ring, they're recognized. I wanted to keep that separate."

Eventually, as his career on the independent scene started to gain steam in the southeast, Smalls grew away from the name Shadow Stalker because of the dated connotation that came with it. He wanted a name that would pop more when it was said. Something that would stick out a little more.

"I was in a hotel room watching television when a commercial for a 90's alternative rock compilation album was being plugged. I saw the band name Soul Asylum, and it immediately clicked with me. It just sounded cool."

Photo Courtesy of Wayne Rush

Thus the name change was complete. Shadow Stalker was out. Asylum was in.

With his persona reinvented, so to speak, Smalls gained more and more seasoning and momentum as a character in OSCW. Eventually, Smalls' hard work paid off when head promoter Joe Blumenfeld offered him a career defining opportunity.

"Joe has always been a big proponent of putting over local talent. He liked what I was doing at the time and gave me a choice. He asked me who I would rather wrestle: Tatanka or Hurricane Helms? Now, I'm sure Tatanka is a cool guy, but I thought a match with The Hurricane would be an awesome fit for me."

And so it was in place. Smalls would get to headline the next OSCW show with none other than a former WWE superstar. Smalls was elated but also realized there was a certain amount of pressure that would come with a match of this magnitude.

"I always get a little nervous before a match, but the days leading up to my match with The Hurricane I was even more nervous because this was a guy I had respected and was a fan of all the way back to his WCW days. I didn't want to let him down."

It is no secret that marketing and advertising can make or break independent wrestling shows, and with Smalls' main event clash with The Hurricane a brilliant campaign was built by OSCW. Soon, the posters were hitting the streets with the match being billed as "Superhero vs. Monster." It was a great a fit for the two contrasting characters. One, a nationally recognized face and the other, a locally recognized heel. The situation could not have been better for Smalls.

Photo Courtesy of OSCW

The paradigm that frequently exists in independent matches that feature a "name" wrestler is a reluctance to deviate from what they want to call or take in a match. That was not lost upon Smalls when he met his opponent the the night of the show.

"I expected him to dictate the entire match to me. But it was actually the opposite. He gave me a lot of leeway and was very receptive to what I wanted to do. He put a lot of trust in me and even took my chokeslam and let me come off the top rope on him."

The match itself is a near twelve minute main event that is seamless from the perspective of an outsider. (A link to the match on Youtube can be found here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=05YrC2kSl1Q)

Smalls admits one botch in the match, but it is near impossible to see where it might be. Helms looks as fresh as his WWE days, and in fact was less than a year removed from his release from the company. But the mark of his true humility is in letting Smalls kick out of his own chokeslam finisher and take a roll up pin for the finish. Granted, it was a classic heel roll up with Smalls using the tights for leverage, but it is a credit to Helms' reluctance to let ego dictate circumstance.

"I really liked the match, and Helms said he did as well. Hopefully, with the finish we worked out, we can have a rematch in the future."

Holding his own with Helms was certainly the hallmark in a still burgeoning career for Smalls, but what I've learned through my friendship with him over the years is that he notoriously underplays and understates any success he has had while keeping his goals and priorities in line.

"I haven't had that low point in my career where I have doubted myself as a wrestler because I am content with where I am right now. I don't have specific timetables on when I would want to get to WWE or TNA. I'm just going to see how things progress."

But there is one thing that Smalls is open to admit now at this point in his career, and he says it with a bit of a chuckle.

"No matter what, I can always say I have a pin fall victory over someone who pinned The Rock."

Photo Courtesy of Brandon Smalls

Smalls will continue his run with OSCW in Hanahan, SC when the promotion starts the 2012 calender year with a show on February 26. Details released thus far can be found at the OSCW Facebook page.

In a true case of how everything eventually comes full circle, there is one fan that regardless of the fact that Smalls is a stereotypical monster heel, she still screams his praises at ringside. Smalls' mother. Just like when she took her son to the matches as a child, she now attends to see him in the ring.

My sentiments are similar. Smalls was the first person I wrestled and someone I enjoyed frequent tag matches with. As a writer now about wrestling, I couldn't be more proud to see him succeed in the business. But the one thing I now think about is if what Smalls said was true about his match with Helms, then I technically own a pin fall victory over the guy who pinned the guy who pinned The Rock. I guess I can live with that too.

You can follow Smalls on Twitter at @smalls316

The Long, Hard Goodbye To The Attitude Era

There is a phenomenal group of crazies lurking through the world these days, covering their tracks with the pepper of the internet and preserving their anonymity through the gross mystique of message boards and blog sites.

These jackals pride themselves on pretense and pun, but forgo punctuation and spelling for the sake of sarcasm, forming insatiable bonds with their like-minded brood, while scourging those who oppose. What they lack in substance, they more than make up for with a grossly exaggerated view of themselves. You will find them at every turn, with every URL clicked "go" on your internet browser. You must beware.

More and more I find myself on the run from these crazies, like the unfortunate Season Hubley in Escape From New York (Don't go into the Choc Full Of Nuts!). But in wrestling, it's hard to avoid these kind. They find you and preach the same critical nonsense about the state of current affairs in WWE. They repeat the same phrase, Attitude Era, as if they were Darwin preaching evolution for the first time. Imposters.

True it was a phenomenal era. A brilliant era. A time when it was expected to be as much a fan of wrestling as it was Star Wars or Jerry Springer. NWO shirts and crotch chops became part of the culture. Even bowlers were emulating it. And disgruntled employees found certain solace in giving the middle finger to their boss, thanks to Steve Austin.

McMahon revived wrestling by pushing the envelope in a time when everyone pushing back might as well have been the poor saps trying to corral John Rambo. And he did it through a three pronged rotation of a feud with Austin, Degeneration X, and Divas stripping to near nothing. They fueled the resurgence between 1998 and 2001.

It wasn't so much the wrestling that was noteworthy but what WWE surrounded it with. Increased violence, sexuality. Whatever they could get away with by hanging the TV14 logo in the corner of the screen.

The Hardy Boys became poster children and ambassadors to the next generation of kids who were inspired to leap from ladders and balconies. The same for Mick Foley, whose fall from the top of the Hell In A Cell became the snapshot image of breathtaking and sacrificial.

Sable, Debra, Trish. How far could a good tease go each week with bikini contests, bra and panty matches, and mud wrestling?

The teenage super hormone experience.

It was the hallmark of the late 90's. An America at relative international ease. A post-grunge culture that began craving less classically defined white knights in exchange for antiheroes. Even a presidency less defined by actual policy and more by under the table fellatio.

But then the new millennium came, and everything changed.

It is no incredible coincidence that a conservative White House and 9/11 uprooted a passive American feeling and made everyone sober up from the drunken complacency of the 90's.

It was also the same year that WCW folded after a determined effort to reach new lows in the wrestling business. The epic Monday Night Wars were over. McMahon had bested his competition, and in turn cast aside nearly all of the talent he had purchased.

And then a slow gripping fact became too evident to deny any longer: the Attitude Era was over. Within five years, John Cena was elevated to the front man, the face of WWE. Not long after that, the TV14 logo dissolved into PG. Profanity, violence, blood, sexuality, all extinguished. Even Austin's hand gestures so prominent in yesteryear were camouflaged by blurred editing.

Nothing but blasphemy explodes from the crazies on this point. They seal themselves away in their own bomb shelters and take endless amounts of LSD in the form of classic wrestling DVDs and live in a vacuum of the Attitude Era and the eras previous.

When not stuck in their own drug induced stupor, they return to their primary mission of marauding any fan discussion of the most recent Monday Night RAW with dismissive Attitude Era references.

But the fact remains that WWE has completely pulled away from that direction and mentality, as further evidenced by their corporate website, which so proudly states that their programming is "suitable for all ages." Sponsorships with K-Mart and Mattell, issues stances such as stopping bullying with children and even a proud partnership with the Make A Wish foundation.

This course of action is not so easy for McMahon to deviat from, now with a steady lull in television ratings and stock profits not so bullish. This even fuels the reluctance to turn the very stale Cena character heel because of the alienation of the very fan base McMahon has pulled into his WWE Universe and desperately clings too.

But this is all obvious and clear on the surface. It's the ripple effects of that era years ago that today are sad reminders of what once was and cannot be again.

The great elephant in the room of WWE discussion: Chris Benoit. WWE practically wiped his existence away after the tragic events of 2007. What Benoit's murder-suicide unearthed was not only once again the steroid issue in professional wrestling but further put under the microscope the violent aspects of the business day in and day out on the wrestlers.

Benoit's style was as vicious and rabid as his monicker once proclaimed. Chair shots, high risk impact blows to the head. These were staples of not only Benoit but so many wrestlers in the Attitude Era, which undeniably fed the popularity of wrestling. But Benoit's death brought a scary reality to the effects of such in-ring offense and created a chain reaction of wrestling prohibition all the way down to the extinction of the classic wrestling pile driver.

On another level of tragedy is the continued downfall of the Hardy Boys. Which brother has fallen further is a debatable subject of sibling failure, but equally their personal troubles in the area of substance abuse can be linked to the post traumatic effects of the aforementioned "caution to the wind" style they adopted in the Attitude Era.

There is a scene from Easy Rider when a dejected Peter Fonda utters the line "we blew it." Film critics pointed to this as a failure of the 60's movement, as did Hunter S. Thompson in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream. Although a surreal, tripping experience, the journey proves to illustrate how the generation succumbed to substance abuse over change and revolution. Did McMahon feel the same way when the tragedies of the Attitude Era became fence posts of criticism for his wrestling product?

Nevertheless, he still found ways to tap into the popularity of the Attitude Era. Most recently, he has built a program around The Rock and Cena, which stands to be an epic, mega main event at the upcoming Wrestlemania. The blatant undercurrent is Rock representing the Attitude Era and what it stood for and Cena representing the PG era of WWE. Ten years ago was the same scenario when Hulk Hogan represented the golden era of professional wrestling against the younger Rock at the time, whose victory was viewed as a passing of the torch of one generation to another. The Rock will more than likely do the same job for Cena, as Hogan did for him before, which will tie the final loose end of the Attitude Era. Just like the mortally wounded Shane riding off into the sunset.

The crazies will find this jobbing absurd and further lock themselves away from WWE, possibly even take the cyanide pill that is TNA Impact, which will leave the rest of us with DVRs set for 9pm on Mondays and reserved seats at sports bars on pay per view Sundays.

We'll watch the the matches, listen to the promos and anticipate the story lines. And that is when a cruel reality settles in and we'll realize that the plastic surgery we administer on our sagging, wrestling faces can no longer hold what lies beneath:

We are the crazies.

Because deep down we are the ones who want the Attitude Era back. We miss the middle fingers. We miss the weekly teases. We miss an adult oriented WWE product. We see Hornswoggle and Santino and shake our heads. We roll our eyes at Cena and mock his five moves of doom. The best we get is the Pipebomber of Promo, CM Punk. There's a reminescence there. A nostalgia factor. A throwback to when WWE had, well, attitude. He's not Austin. He's his own man. But it gives us a similar reason to watch as it did long ago.

But in the end, the Attitude Era is like Mary Astor in The Maltese Falcon, and we're all Sam Spade forced to accept reality and move on with our lives, living with cold showers of McMahon's PG era to get by day to day.

As much as we want her to come back, we know we can never have her again.

Who blew it?

We blew it.

Because us, crazies, thought it could never end and won't let go of the thought that it will come around again.

Maybe the biggest reason we can't let go is because of the tragic, inevitable conclusion none of us have come to accept: that we are getting old. And that wrestling might have passed us by.

The long, hard goodbye to the Attitude Era...

"Myths and legends die hard in America. We have them for the extra dimension they provide, the illusion of near-infinite possibility to erase the narrow confines of most men's reality. Weird heroes and mould-breaking champions exist as living proof to those who need it, that the tyranny of 'the rat race' is not yet final." - H.S.T.

The Great RAW Experience From Section 118

My voyage to the Colonial Life arena is like a trek through a vicious tempest right out of Shakespeare with Vince McMahon playing the role of Prospero.

The sinister local parking agents have thwarted all direct entry points with charges of five dollars per vehicle. Swine. They display University of South Carolina enignias. Not helping your cause, sirs. I'm still paying off the next ten years of my life to that god damned place. No way in hell will they swindle another another payment from me on this night.

Familiarity with the area guides me to the campus area of Drayton Hall. I've performed at Drayton. The seats need WD40, and the heater long ago hit the skids. Ironically, I park next to my lady friend who has to work sound for the dance show going on. The set designer is her inept, perverted professor who so kindly makes comments like "baby, please." He passively coerced her participation in the show by hanging twenty five percent of her grade over her head. Swine.

It's a mild deluge on the way to the arena, and the crowds gather outside of each exit, ready to take McMahon's black acid on their tongue. Southern gentlemen detoured from entrance are turned into redneck piranhas, chomping anyone who appears to cut in line. It's a mad scene.

Children displaying shirts of John Cena are greeted with discerning stares and antagonizing phrases so clearly put as "Cena sucks!" Their faces of concern reflect the current discention gripping WWE. The older generation never wants to leave 1998 behind. The new generation just wants Cena. The poor buggers don't know any better. I probably felt the same way when an Earthquake fan lunged at me and my Hulkamania bandana...

The slow entrance into the arena cannot move fast enough for the commentators behind me, who carry an unmistakable audio comparison to characters out of Gator. They debate the shortcomings of Carolina basketball along with the arena quality of an Usher show. Renaissance men.

We are finally allowed entrance an hour before scheduled start time. I pick up on a gentleman's elaborate ruse to convince his wife they are attending a basketball game. The displayed memorabilia and attire of 99% of the people attending does crash the allusion. She demands to see the tickets. He refuses. I am eventually questioned in this matter, to which I deliver a dead pan delivery that the Globetrotters are in town. Her reaction is genuine delight. Must be a Washington Generals fan.

With all WWE shows that are televised, you get your full ticket price with a series of dark matches or matches recorded for other shows. Tonight, we are treated to the Scotsman Drew McIntyre and Alex Riley, a seven minute yawn fest. Mcintyre's stock has been on a consistent decline over the last year, and Riley is a forced face with little charisma in his current incarnation. He was better served as the Miz's emissary. No shock that he goes over on McIntyre, though it is sadly forgettable.

The two matches for the Superstars show are mostly crowd pleasers, especially when you throw Santino into a match against JTG, whose employment I doubted until I heard his name called. Still having the same gimmick it appears. A chant for him begins, though, from the drunken rows of frat boys who proudly display various jerseys of merit such as Roy Williams from his Dallas days and Allen Iverson from his ill-fated tenure with Detroit.

This Santino gimmick continues to be a sad, sad sight. Such a talented wrestler relegated to a comical punch as his finisher. If anyone needed to drop a timely shoot promo, it's him.

The other Superstars match proves to be an unexpected twenty minute epic between Kofi Kingston and Primo (yet another guy surprisingly employed). An acrobatic affair filled with the usual Kofi "boom" spots but entertaining nonetheless with an unexpected ending that has Primo going over clean. Even the look on Primo's face indicated how surprised he was, as if Kofi felt bad for the poor yokel and changed the finish at the last minute...

In the brief interim before the real spectacle begins, people hustle for last minute buckets of fries and tall boys of Bud Light. The frat row has exploited this ten-fold. Danger, danger. People who try to walk by, politely prefacing "excuse me" are returned scornful looks of disgust by seated individuals who have their view of the empty ring momentarily eclipsed. Savages.

The opening of the RAW show is a great throwback with Rowdy Roddy Piper's entrance and subsequent Piper's Pit segment. He calls John Cena to the ring and invokes a psychological exercise to bring Cena's contempt for the growing antagonism from the audience to the surface. Cena, however, refuses to play ball despite a slap on the face from Piper. Perhaps this is finally the beginning of the long anticipated heel turn we have all hoped for. Faustus had to eventually pay his due to the devil. Cena owes his turn to McMahon...

Leading into the show,a rumor that caught fire throughout the internet wilderness was that John Morrison was leaving the company, apparently disgruntled with mediocrity. If it is indeed the case, the crowd prepares for a grandiose swan song, anticipating Morrison to tear the house down with every page of his repertoire; maybe even exit to a thunderous "thank you, Morrison" chant.

His match is announced as Falls Count Anywhere, further proof that a five star match is coming. Morrison is introduced first. Unfortunately, witnessing the entrance in person deprives us of the slow motion effect when Morrison poses on the stage. Morrison walks all of five feet before he is attacked from behind by the Miz with a pipe. Mix zeroes in on Morrison's ankle with a savage, rabid beating. A deja vu to when Morrison was attacked by R. Truth this summer.

Unlike that incident, Morrison shrugs aside medical assistance and limps toward the ring to face the Miz. A galant effort that still indicates hope for one last gutsy Morrison match...

Not the case.

Although he manages a couple of small bursts of offense, Miz decimates Morrison and finishes him off with a Skull Crushing Finale on the ramp. Morrison is carted off on a stretcher. Miz grabs his trademark microphone and cuts a promo right out Jericho's playbook. In fact his monotone stare and slow delivery is reminiscent of John Lithgow from the film Ricochet.

So this is the end for Morrison in one way shape or form. Whether it's some kind of sabbatical or straight exit from the company, his last image on RAW for now is a no-chance beat down with a pipe. Thank you, Morrison?...

The rest of the show settles into the typical RAW pattern of yawning Divas matches and overly long promo segments involving uncharismatic individuals. Although, to his credit, Daniel Bryan navigated through his segment with Michael Cole fairly well along with Mark Henry's interruption. Can't help but think a Bryan heel turn would be a great result of this storyline.

Match of the night honors once again go to a Dolph Ziggler-involved match. Last week, it was his match with CM Punk that hit five stars. This week, it's with Randy Orton. Of course with Wade Barrett hanging out a ringside, we all know what's coming, and inevitably he distracts Orton enough to allow Ziggler to score with the Zig Zag for the pin. His celebration takes a curious route with a lengthened handstand at ringside. If only his mic skills were a little more on par with the likes of Punk and Miz. Amazing skill set, though.

During this match, not only does my lady friend make it to the arena from that sham dance show, but it also brings to a close a vicious Cold War struggle with the child occupying her seat beside me. We have been jostling for control of the arm rest for well over an hour, which I have been more than generous in giving 50% of control over. But my appeasement is not enough for this fiery chap as he presses forward for total control. No sir.

Main event, Punk and Del Rio. Return match from the previous pay per view. Laurinaitis puts in the stipulation that Punk can lose the belt via disqualification. How long will we have to wait before Punk and Laurinaitis wind up in the ring? They're just dusting off the playbook from Austin/McMahon circa '98.

The match itself is pretty steady, including the usual spots for each wrestler. Unfortunately, there is just an incredible lack of chemistry between these two guys every time they have a match. You'll just see these spots that look rough and ill-conceived. Del Rio just looks rough, and maybe it still involves conforming to the WWE style. But his one dimensionality as a character is accurately criticized by Punk as boring.

The finish comes with Punk pulling an Eddie Guerrero and feigning a chair shot from Del Rio which provokes a vicious interrogation from the referee, but ultimately allows Punk to hit a Snake Eyes version of the GTS. Punk retains. All is well in the WWE Universe for another week...

The Columbia crowd gets a post-RAW broadcast treat involving Big Show and Mark Henry in a World Title match, except it evolves into a six man tag match with Show, Punk, and Cena against Henry, Del Rio, and Miz. Of course Henry bows out quickly; gassed, angry, and craving a bologna sandwich. Punk and Cena get the win with a snapshot image of them hitting their finishers at the same time.

Booker T, special referee for the affair, then demands a spinaroonie-off between Punk and Cena, which Cena, for all his witty sarcasm during promos, won't allow himself to made a fool of doing a spinaroonie and promptly refuses participation. Punk is a good sport and allows himself to look foolish doing a terrible roll instead. Miz returns to participate and does a spot-on impression of Booker T, but ends up getting the Attitude Adjustment and GTS.

It's a comical scene to end the night, and the crowds leave with a good taste in their mouth. But what's more impressive to see is how Punk takes every possible moment to greet the fans at ringside, well after the masses are heading for the exit. For a wrestler known almost more for his controversial comments in and out of the ring, his commitment to the fans as champion is strong and very present. Not unlike Cena, who to his credit, has walked that walk for years. But Punk's appeal is more universal and comes from a more identifiable place in 2011.

Plenty of internet jesters will continue to mock the path that WWE is on and has been for the last ten years. These same jesters with their infectious tongues are content continuing to see wrestling through the eyes of the Attitude Era that long ago ended.

But culture has changed and so has wrestling's popularity. Will their be a resurgence again? Absolutely. But in the meantime, what makes being around wrestling today so interesting, is how in these lull times, it allows the wafer fans to exit stage left and the die-hards to stick around. A lot like Carolina football. Lovable losers at times. But a fan base that does not show distinction in commitment, whether in the penthouse of success or the cellar of defeat.

John Skyler's Insatiable Quest For Hatred And Respect

John Skyler (Photo Courtesy of Wayne Rush)

In the midst of my interview with wrestling legend The Barbarian, I catch out of the corner of my eye a gent in a button-up green flannel and a pair of jeans. He wears a broken-in Country Strong ball cap with it's brim bent in almost a perfect upside down u-shape.

John Skyler is operating on maybe five hours of sleep in the last 48 hours, but he doesn't make a peep about it. Instead he does what he does best, what has made him one of the most talked about wrestlers in the southeast: he listens and observes.

I part ways with Barbarian, and turn my attention to the seated Skyler. A fresh beard blankets his face; another casualty of the No Shave November movement sweeping the nation. I've heard previous radio interviews done with Skyler in the past. Useless drivel. Unless someone has been on television with that blasphemous mutated WWE logo in the bottom left corner, they don't know what to say. Their minds are stunted by a constant addiction to the national wrestling scene; like children scarfing down candy as their only source of nutrition.

The true meat and potatoes of professional wrestling lies in the independent scene that stretches coast to coast through the gymnasiums and National Guard armories. If this scene was a Wild West metaphor, Skyler would be Billy the Kid.

Before he donned the stage name John Skyler, John Brumbaugh (real name) began his wrestling training in March 2008 under the tutelage of wrestling veteran Bob Keller. His first meeting with Keller was actually as a fifth grader in 1998, but as a novice wrestler looking to learn the trade, it was Reginald Vanderhoff who brought Brumbaugh to Keller's attention ten years later.

Brumbaugh's training continued throughout the summer of 2008, but the show that fell on July 6th proved to be a fateful experience. As Brumbaugh recalls, it was in Big Bear Lake, West Virginia, and he found himself confined to grunt work, constructing and deconstructing the ring while also hawking merchandise at Keller's table.

In between making sales for Taka Michinoku and Ahmed Johnson bend-em figures, Keller asked Brumbaugh if he was nervous. Sensing a good rib, Brumbaugh asked why. A dead serious Keller revealed that he was wrestling third on the card that night against Bill Bain. (The monosyllabic alliteration lends me to imagine Bain as Big John Studd in the film Harley Davidson And The Marlboro Man.)

Not having any gear to change into, Brumbaugh relied on the patchwork donations of the other wrestlers to look presentable for his debut match. His nerves ran high, but the match, itself, was thankfully a straightforward jaunt: Bain squashed Brumbaugh inside of three minutes.

His trial by fire was a success, and to this day, Brumbaugh remembers all of the nerves he felt that night. But most importantly, it was the night his metamorphosis was complete. John Skyler was born to the wrestling world...

Three yeas later, the seasoned Skyler has continued his travels throughout the Carolinas all the way up to West Virginia, where it all began, and as far west as Las Vegas. In fact it is West Virginia where Skyler has burned the midnight oil from to attend tonight. His tank is running on empty, but his stories refueled laps ago.

Skyler is fashioned as a heel in the majority of the shows he is booked. He has a particular knack for upsetting the crowd, especially this year while embroiled in a feud with his mentor, Keller, which ended in Skyler retiring him as a result of a match.

Now, he proudly wears a "I Retired Bob Keller" when he makes an entrance to the ring, which produces a venomous reaction from the Lowcountry crowd that OSCW entertains each show. The pigtails in his hair and the flirtation with ambiguous homosexuality with former WCW star Lodi in the match tonight incited the Goose Creek youth to spat chants of "You are gay!" A sad byproduct of a show designed to be a benefit for a medically impaired coach, revered by the local community.

But as Brumbaugh, the man behind the maleovant Skyler, the success of his character lies in the dichotomy between actor and wrestler. Skyler maintains strict kayfabe at all times and believes heavily in the old school rules of the business. When someone approaches him and asks if he really is an asshole in real life, he replies with spit and a dismissal. But when Brumbaugh is told by fans or his peers how his match was a standout of the night and awe-inspiring, he is humbled and appreciative, like a Broadway star stepping out of the stage door onto Jane Street in New York, flooded by appreciative theatre fanatics.

The comparisons to Shawn Michaels humble Brumbaugh the most. Michaels, after all, was the idol that inspired him into the business in the first place. There's even a slight resemblance to HBK, but it is more so in the confidence he projects even in humility. There seems little doubt in his words that in five years he will be on television in some role as a wrestler.

The long nights on the road away far from home is a trope of the wrestling business right out of a Bob Seger song, and it no doubt takes it toll on the men and women who frequent it. However, the end result, the reaction of the crowd, more than outweighs the hardships. Such as was the case when Brumbaugh competed in a tag match with BJBrumbaugh, and it still does, spurning him to put on that high quality of a match each and every show.

A future in wrestling is an uncertain abyss full of barracudas in the forms of swine promoters and shooting muscle heads, but Brumbaugh maintains just enough insanity to stay ahead of the danger. An interjection by Barbarian and Mike Griffie (Barb's manager) indicates a possible future venture for Brumbaugh. The location and the event unknown. Perhaps it is a secret mission to rescue Meng or Warlord from a Gulag. My attempts at surveillance are thwarted by my immediate presence in the conversation. I will stick by my hypothesis for now.

However, for Brumbaugh, it is another adventure in this mad, mad world of wrestling and another addition to an already burgeoning resume that also includes training with Japanese stars CIMA, Akira Tozawa, and Naruki Doi at Dragon Gate USA. It is also further accreditation that Brumbaugh is an exceptional student of the business.

In a way, it is Aristotelian. Brumbaugh is what he repeatedly demonstrates. Therefore, dedication is not merely accident but habit.

And His Name Was Barbarian...

The Barbarian (Photo Courtesy of Wayne Rush)

As a boy growing up, there were three sacred wrestling tapes that would make the rounds of my VCR as part of my own person home theatre exhibition. One was Wrestlemania VII, with Hogam versus Slaughter for Wrestling's interpretation of Gulf War supremacy. Two was Summerslam '91, with Bret Hart's first title as a singles wrestler, Macho Man's wedding, and the night the Mountie spent the night in jail.

The third was a tape entitled WWF Superstars, a mix tape of random matches with the top draws in the company. Of course there was Hogan, Savage, and Warrior. The obvious inclusions. But it was the opening match I remember and recall so well: a handicapped match between Demolition and the Powers of Pain.

The theatricality of the match was immediately striking. Clad in black leather with demon-like face paint, Demolition was a clear callback to George Miller's cult classic film The Road Warrior. Powers of Pain, were a post apocalyptic reciprocal to Demolition. Their names, Warlord and Barbarian reflected their appearance: back alley bruisers sent through time to fend off the armies of Genghis Khan, while covered in their own frightening face paint. Their manager, the maniacal, Mr. Fuji, was suited for battle himself, creating the handicap for Demolition.

The match was an absolute bruiser. A callback to to classic brute force in the ring, while simultaneously dismissing the art of classic Greek style takedowns for clubbing shots to the abdomen and lower back. A destructive festival of power and strength. Such could have been assumed from their ominous monickers. The finish of the match was fitting. The sniveling swine Fuji attempted to throw the white powder in the eyes of Demolition, but instead blinded the eyes of his tag team partner and ended up taking the signature elbow drop from Axe and Smash. The fan favorites went over in Caesar's Palace.

As the years went on, Warlord and Barbarian would take singles routes as wrestlers, still maintaining their fear provoking personalities. Barbarian, in particular, I remember as part of Bobby Heenan's "family" of wrestlers during the early 90's as a mid card heel to oppose the likes of Hogan and Big Boss Man. He would also frequently find himself as the tag team partner of Haku. Later, in WCW, he would continue to appear with Haku (then under the name Meng)as part of the Faces of Fear. Same schtick for Barbarian. Just a relocation down south.

But as the Monday Night Wars era faded to black with WWE's acquisition of WCW, so did Barbarian's tenure on the main stage after well over twenty years in the wrestling business...

Nearly a decade later, I have a bit of a lump in my throat. Trepidation grips like a Ted Nugent "Stranglehold". The same aforementioned Barbarian sits ten feet away. His face painted in the same Powers of Pain style I saw as a kid on that Superstars tape.

Despite being nearly twenty years older than I was back then and a little bit taller, I still look at Barbarian like he could headbutt if I said something wrong, and I wouldn't wake up for five years.

What do I call this man? I hear him referred to as Barb by the other wrestlers. Do people just walk up to him and call him Barbarian as if man and character never separate? It's like when I used to think if Ultimate Warrior signed his checks under the same name. As if the electric company would have service for a man under such a handle and mail invoices to Parts Unknown.

Barbarian's real name escapes me. I've looked it up recently in preparation, but the Tongan pronunciation is too foreign to recall a syllable. I would probably sound like a fool. I also worry about the reliability of my tape recorder, which seems Soviet and inefficient in button design. I feel like a hobbit about to have a conversation with a dragon in his den.

But funny enough, there's a calming reassurance I get from Barbarian's chuckling grin as he puts a pinch of tobacco in his lower lip. He sits down and calls over Mike Griffie, his business manager of sorts on the independent circuit. He resembles Kurt Cobain with shorter hair and acts as the mouthpiece in answering my questions.

What fascinates me the most about the man sitting before me is the fact that as a wrestler, Barbarian has navigated the major eras of the wrestling business and managed to sustain a certain amount of relevancy. As I ask how he was able to achieve that sustainability, he nods and communicates briefly in short, brief answers. Griffie fills in the blanks.

"Barbarian has been able to wrestle constantly throughout the years, and as much as the eras changed around him, he was also able to adapt his style to what the crowds wanted... In the 80's, which is considered 'old school' now, the wrestling was a lot slower and more powerful. In the 90's, of course, it was about the Attitude Era, which through his size and stature, Barbarian was able to stay relevant despite the need for bigger, riskier spots. Nowadays, it's about his overall experience that he brings to ring, which allows him to wrestle anybody no matter their experience level."

Barbarian methodically rocks back and forth on the bench he sits on, staring into a particular spot in the floor. I can tell he's in that zone like when Heenan would build him up during one of those backstage promos that would appear on WWE television.

Other wrestlers from the independent show that has just ended stop to talk to him or get a signed poster, but Barbarian politely declines until the interview is over.

I am honored by his commitment to our time, as if I was Bill Apter or Mike Mooneyham. I can't help but ask him how a man from Tonga, sent over by his own king to Japan to study the art of Sumo, transitioned to professional wrestling in the United States. Griffie draws the parallels between the two and how the training benefited Barbarian.

"After coming over to the States, it was the Sumo wrestling that made the transition so smooth for the guys who came from Tonga. Barbarian was able to maneuver his size around the ring and maintain balance while being able to push opponents around. The balance is and has been the key to his strength over the years."

Strength was the key factor in charting Barbarian's success with Warlord as Powers of Pain, which is widely considered where his push began in the business. A timely and famous feud with the Road Warriors set the NWA landscape ablaze, culminating in many highly regarded tag matches and even in the infamous weight lifting contest at the Great American Bash where the Pain crushed Animal's eye socket.

Upon entering the WWE, the Pain were originally fan favorites built primarily around their bruising history in the NWA. The heel turn came against Demolition when Fuji jumped shipped ship as manager, turning Demolition into fan favorites themselves.

When Powers of Pain went their separate ways, Barbarian overhauled his image, discarding his previous incarnation for the brown fur attire and antler headpiece he would wear for entrances. His singles career saw him score a victory over Tito Santana at Wrestlemania VI, but very soon he would be thrust back into the tag team scene with Haku, whom he would team with until the final days of WCW.

"With Warlord, it was about power. With Haku, it was about aggression," Barbarian bluntly, simply relates as he rises his head.

His dichotomy between both tag teams is brilliant in it's economy of words. I'd swear he was Hemingway, or at least the kind of guy Hemingway would have idolized or used as a muse.

But what I am curious about is how Barbarian, a man of continued fame and stature, has avoided the national stage for ten years despite the constant love for nostalgia in today's wrestling business. I inquire about any desire he would have to return to WWE, where he had his most fame and success.

Barbarian's head shakes no as if he's completed this line of thought long ago.

"My time is over," he says, again very directly minus any ornate romantic explanation. "Barbarian is a big proponent of new talent getting their push. He's had conversations with WWE, and we've entertained ideas, but Barbarian enjoys the independent circuit and the personal connection with the fans," Griffie adds.

Griffie even mentions a deal that was in the works to bring back Powers of Pain with the reformation of ECW within WWE, but it was a deal that fell through because WWE showed more interest in bringing in Barbarian than Warlord, something Barbarian would not agree to.

Barbarian's presence in the main event of the OSCW show indicates how he has transitioned to the role of traveling mentor. Tagging with local grappler Glen Lane, the two opposed former WCW star Lodi and regional wunderkind John Skyler (the West Skylerwood Blondes). With the show billed as a benefit for local coach Phillip Morgan, who was stricken with a paralyzing stroke last year, Barbarian is uncharacteristically billed as the face in the match.

He is an immediate draw for the children in attendance, but never draws attention to himself during the match. Instead he gracefully puts the younger Skyler over in spots and supports partner Lane, who has not been in the ring for fifteen years. He even goes as far as to go into the crowd and greet Coach Morgan with a handshake and a hug.

A long way, coming from the guy who crushed Animal's eye over twenty years ago.

My final question is like Wakefield's knuckleball; my go-to; my favorite. I know the majority of what I have asked is likely commonplace and been put forth before Barbarian numerous times before me, but this one I hope has not.

"What are you asked the most on the road?" I ask.

Barbarian sinks into his bench again, thinking. His mind works backwards through hundreds of thousands of wrestlers, matches, and shows.

I start to hear a chuckle, and he raises his head.

"Is Warlord still alive?"

Griffie and I laugh in return. From working Caesar's Palace and the Toronto Skydome all the way to Goose Creek High School in Charleston, South Carolina, he still maintains an amiable sense of humor. No ego. No sense of entitlement. Just a forehead branded with scars and a heart of selfless return to the business that made him a household name.

It's strange to see Barbarian exit with Griffie, wearing a t-shirt and jeans along with a ball cap while his fur entrance coat is stuffed in his bag. He is on his way back to North Carolina tonight. Most likely to resume his job as a construction manager in Charlotte on Monday morning. Imagine that. Your house might be the design of one half of Powers of Pain. If nothing else, you can guarantee it's probably tough as hell, much like the man himself.

When I get back into my car, I go on the Internet and read the name Sione Vailahi from my search page. Yeah, I would have sounded like an idiot trying to say that.

But for the record I am able to verify one pressing fact: Warlord is indeed very much alive.

And as such the legend of Powers of Pain lies preserved like the leopard in Hemingway's Snows of Kilimanjaro , frozen at the summit, forever remembered in its prime.

The CIW Awards And The Great Fan Uprising

Bill Maher had a great quote in the recent book charting the rise and success of ESPN entitled Those Guys Have All The Fun. Actually, Maher has more than a few quotes, but the one that stuck out in particular was his opinion of the ESPYs, the high profile awards show ESPN hosts every year.

Maher called the ESPYs the dumbest awards show there is because creating an award for "best team" is ridiculous when the teams decide who the best team is by the respective sport they play.

Now, one could argue the necessity of an awards show for professional wrestling based on the dreaded "f" word used to describe it by wrestling pessimists. Then again, it is honestly no different than how the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences or the Hollywood Foreign Press vote for the best films every year. After all, professional wrestling at its core is theatre with the overall purpose of entertaining. Thus, there is some merit to what Tim Dixon created in 2006.

Dixon, an independent wrestling enthusiast, created the website CarolinaIndependentWrestling.com as a central forum to showcase the talent and promotions of the North and South Carolina region. Besides creating a source of advertisement for all of the promotions, Dixon also spawned the Carolina Independent Wrestling awards (the CIWs) as a way for the fans to vote on which wrestlers and promotions they liked the best.

What might have started as merely an offhand idea to Dixon created a rabid response from the fans but more so from the wrestlers themselves, lending the CIWs to be become as high of a pedistle as any other achievement during the calendar year.

Dixon, unfortunately, had to close the website in 2010 due to his own increasing schedule demands, but Wayne Rush (who is clearly the Matthew Brady of independent wrestling with the amazing photography he brings) picked up the reigns from Dixon and revived the website through his own message board http://cwaprowrestling.yuku.com/ where the CIWs found life again.

Nearing the end of 2011, though, the amount of chatter around the awards is sadly dismal. Rush's forum is flooded with a deluge of posts from the OSCW and CWA enthusiasts, but where is everyone else at? Has there been a surrender by the promotions of the upstate?

On the surface, a CIW award can be viewed as merely ego stroke for the individual wrestler, but for YOUR wrestling promotion, the one you never miss and sacrifice gas money to see every
month, it represents the ultimate "feather in the cap" so when they advertise, they can bill themselves as "CIW Award Winner."

This is not the time of fractious, feudal territories that were defended at knightly games centuries ago, but Carolina independent wrestling needs a polarizing injection from it's fan base. Rush's forum should explode with outlandish commentary from starved jackals in support of who the best wrestler is and where he bears his flag from.

This year the CIW awards will begin it's nomination process on November 25th through the website http://cwaprowrestling.yuku.com/forums/163/Coming-soon. Rush has a strict "one IP address per day, per nomination" stipulation to eliminate repeat flood voting. The top five nominations in each category will be announced December 4th and from there the voting will be opened for the top five through December 23rd. On Christmas Day, the winners will be announced.

And the categories are...

Wrestler of the Year, Promotion of the Year, Rookie of the Year, Comeback of the Year, Feud of the Year, Tag-Team of the Year, Cruiserweight of the Year, Best New Promotion, Most Improved, Best Female Wrestler (includes valets and managers), Best Manager, Best Announcer and Best Referee.

On November 25th, do your civic wrestling duty. Nominate. Vote. Be heard. Everyone loves to be clever and smart when passively criticizing wrestling through the social media. Why not go all the way for the CIW Awards?

Be that starved jackal.

OSCW's "Kaos For The Coach" More Than A Wrestling Show

Joe Blumenfeld is up front when he tells me I have fifteen minutes to talk with him. It is 8:15 p.m. on a Monday night, and Blumenfeld's Chicago Bears are about to take on the Philadelphia Eagles for Monday Night Football. He tells me he is even wearing his Brian Urlacher jersey as we speak. I believe him. That's why I get right to the point.

Despite the truncated time, Blumenfeld is more than eager to talk about Old School Championship Wrestling's yearly finale before the promotion returns in 2012. The focus, though, of the scheduled November 20th show is more than just wrestling as suggested with the event title "Kaos For The Coach."

The benevolent cause driving the show is a benefit for longtime Charleston high school coach Phillip Morgan, who was stricken with a paralyzing stroke over a year ago. Morgan's influence and contribution over the years is not lost on Blumenfeld.

"We're talking about a guy that gave thirty five years of his life to his community. Thirty five years of helping others is pretty selfless, and it's something I admire and we all should admire," says Blumenfeld. "The effort we put into the show has to match the kind of effort that Coach Morgan put into affecting people's lives in our community. That's what we have to do as performers."

OSCW's inclusion in Morgan's benefit is a direct result of the growing buzz created by Blumenfeld's promotion since planting roots in Hanahan, South Carolina earlier this year. With the scope of this benefit reaching beyond OSCW's core audience and a higher anticipated turnout than usual, the show will be taking place at Goose Creek High School rather than the usual Hanahan Recreation Center where OSCW had frequented.

And with the event being promoted through many of the Lowcountry's high schools, Blumenfeld is excited about the possibility to showcase OSCW to a new audience not previously exposed to the promotion in the past.

"We have no idea what to expect, but based on Coach Morgan's presence in the community over the years, we could be looking at double the audience we're used to seeing. And hopefully it will want to bring them back to future OSCW shows."

In terms of ticket prices, ringside seats are available for $25 and bleacher seating is available for $10. ALL of the proceeds go toward Coach Morgan and his continued recovery effort.

The pressure of a potentially larger audience does not phase Blumenfeld, though, or the OSCW talent. "The guys were taught the philosophy it's a 100% effort whether its a hundred people in the audience or a thousand. We're going to give it all we have, regardless."

"Kaos For The Coach" will mark the 2011 finale show for OSCW, but in looking back on the year in review, Blumenfeld is proud of where his promotion is headed.

"What is really exciting is that we're getting a lot more feedback from the fans. And not just basic comments that the show was good or bad. We're getting specific criticisms about what worked with the fans and what they want to see more of."

Of course like previous shows, OSCW will be bringing in a couple of guest stars to headline the main event. One of which is former Raven's Flock member and WCW superstar Lodi, who just appeared in Columbia as part of a wrestling show about a month ago. He will be taking on legendary heel, The Barbarian, who frequented both the WWE and WCW stage throughout the 80's and 90's.

In looking forward to 2012, Blumenfeld does not cite possible gimmick shows he has in mind or grandiose ways to expand his promotion but rather a continued grass roots approach to broaden OSCW's horizons.

"I want my guys to continue to reach out and connect with the fans. That is what is most important to making this grow. Wrestling fans aren't stupid. They can recognize who is giving them an honest effort as a character and performer versus the ones that are not."

The "Kaos For The Coach" show will begin with a 6 p.m. bell time with the doors opening at 5 p.m. Goose Creek High School is located at 1137 Redbank Road. For further information about the show, visit www.oscwonline.com or call 843-743-4800. Once again, limited ringside seating is $25 and general bleacher seating is $10, and all proceeds go toward Coach Phillip Morgan.