Like many wrestling fans, I can trace my love of professional wrestling back to one person.
Mine was my Uncle Buck.
We had cable television when he did not, so every Monday night he would come over to our house to watch wrestling. He always claimed the recliner as his seat, yelling at the television whenever the referee missed something obvious or the bad guy stole a victory.
Watching him cheer for the good guys made me want to become one.
From the time I was a kid, whenever someone asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answer never changed.
A professional wrestler.
After graduating high school, my plan was simple: get a job, save enough money, move to Atlanta, and attend the legendary WCW Power Plant.
Before I could make that happen, WCW closed its doors.
A few years later, another opportunity came along. I began training with a local wrestler, and everything appeared to be going well until my fourth session.
He arrived after smoking marijuana and dropped me directly on my head while attempting to teach me how to take a suplex.
Fortunately, I walked away without a broken neck.
Unfortunately, I also walked away without any confidence that I should continue placing my safety in the hands of someone who treated it so carelessly.
Later, I met a wrestler who was working for TNA at the time. He offered to train me personally, but the cost was $10,000 up front and another $1,000 per month for regular training sessions.
I simply could not afford it.
Little by little, the dream faded.
These days, I sometimes hear successful wrestlers talk about the sacrifices they made to reach the business, and I understand what they mean. But determination is not always the only thing standing between someone and a dream.
Sometimes timing, finances, personal responsibilities, and unsafe circumstances take life in a different direction.
It was never because I did not want it badly enough.
Now, as I approach fifty and deal with health issues that make an in-ring career unrealistic, I still find ways to live out that passion.
In WWE video games, I continue creating original wrestlers such as “Bad Attitude” Johnny Slade and Vanilla Thunder, imagining the characters, rivalries, and stories I once hoped to bring to life inside the ring.
Maybe that is part of the reason Pro Wrestling 911 exists.
This site allows me to continue contributing to something I have loved for most of my life.
Will someone from WWE or another wrestling promotion ever discover this site and believe I could contribute to creative, character development, or long-term storytelling?
Probably not.
But every dream begins as something that seems impossible.
Until then, I am perfectly happy building Pro Wrestling 911 one article at a time.