WrestleDreamia

Breece Harris, a troubled, mixed-race 12-year-old, has been cut from his middle-school basketball team for a lack of discipline. A happy kid growing up, Breece has become a bitter adolescent, transformed by the recent sudden death of his father. His world turned upside-down when Brick Layer moved into their trailer park for his 1-month guest residency for a local Pro-Wrestling Federation.

Brick is known as the worst of bad guys, known as “heels” in the business. When he reluctantly agrees to train Breece, the boy quickly learns that “you can’t judge a book by its cover” as the thick, thoughtful layers of the perceived brute are revealed to him.

Breece slowly develops discipline and respect, but first, he has to survive the brutal training regime…

“Like any great Wrestling Match, this book is Over (Winner)!

Watch out for the swerves. Tremendous!”

Bobby Blaze Smedley Author Pin Me, Pay Me!, SMW, WWF, WCW “This middle-grade marvel made me want to ‘walk the ring’!

Book reviews by J.V. Poore For Goodreads Daniel Boyd is an acclaimed filmmaker (Chillers, Strangest Dreams, Paradise Park), a two-time television regional Emmy nominee, a multi-nominated graphic novelist (Chillers I & II, CARBON, SALT), and playwright (Paradise Park the Musical, Space Preachers Musical, Miss Dirt Turtle’s Garden Club Musical). The Adventures of Wandala, Miss Dirt Turtle’s Garden Club (NGIBA Finalist), Tavey’s First Hunt are all Gold Mom’s Choice Award Winners. As a former professional wrestler, Boyd worked nearly 100 matches in 3 countries, winning 4 belts. A retired media studies professor at West Virginia State University and three-time Fulbright Scholar, Boyd also taught around the world, including in Tanzania.

Daniel Boyd

WrestleDreamia A Boy’s Strange Journey into the Squared Circle

by Daniel Boyd copyright ©2023 Daniel Boyd All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents, except where noted otherwise, are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any other resemblance to actual people, places or events is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any other form or for any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage system, without written permission from Headline Books.

To order additional copies of this book, or for book publishing information, or to contact the author: Headline Kids P. O. Box 52 Terra Alta, WV 26764 Email: mybook@headlinebooks.com www.headlinebooks.com Geoffrey C. Fuller—Editor Hector Mexia—Cover Illustration Lucas Kelly—Design/Layout Published by Headline Books Headline Kids is an imprint of Headline Books ISBN-13: 9781958914120 Library of Congress Control Number: 2023933659

P R I N T E D I N T H E U N I T E D STAT E S OF A M E R IC A

Dedicated to my brothers and sisters of the Ring

Special thanks to my friend and colleague, Audrey Stanton-Smith, for kindly reminding me that I had one more topic for a middle school book in me: Pro Wrestling

4

1 Breece always claimed he hated Pro Wrestling. He’d say he was a true athlete, not fake like the Pro Wrestlers.

But truth be told, he secretly loved it. For Breece, the monthly All-Star Wrestling event at the Madison Civic Center was the closest thing to showbiz in this southern West Virginia coalfield town. And he was extra excited because the next day, his middle school would officially post the final basketball team results. Breece knew he was a shoo-in, as he was obviously the best baller during tryouts.

The All Star Wrestling (ASW) owner would bring in famous wrestlers who were past their prime, with their careers going down. These wrestlers would work special regional independent shows for a payday. No longer on contract with the major Federations, these wrestlers would take spot shows to extend their careers, thus making a living. Usually with a month run, ASW brought in Brick Layer to face their world champion, Flex Franchise, in the main event. Flex was one of the most popular good guys which were called babyfaces in wrestling. Brick was one of the very worst bad guys, called heels in the business, 5

that Breece had ever seen in his short twelve years of life.

As a kid, he watched Georgia Championship Wrestling on TBS, where Brick was a top heel for a long time. Some of the best TV matches he’d seen in his life were between Brick Layer and Dusty Rhodes. Rhodes was called The American Dream, and he was Breece’s all-time favorite.

Breece truly hated Brick. Rubbing salt in Brick’s wound, he was moved into a rental trailer in Breece’s park. Breece didn’t think his neighborhood could be crappier, but now he saw it could.

Brick later moved up to Vince McMahon’s WWF, later changed to WWE, on their national TV broadcasts.

There, he tag-teamed with the Black wrestler known as Soul Daddy. They worked as Brick ‘n’ Soul. They even had a short run as tag team champions. Breece would never admit it, but he kind of liked Soul Daddy, probably because Breece was one of the few of mixed-race kids in his area. Breece’s mom was Black, and his late father, was White.

When they were sent down from WWF, Brick, and Soul were sent to the Memphis Territory, but it was not on television in Breece’s area. Good riddance! Breece thought at the time. But later, Breece realized he missed the guy he hated so.

In the main event, Brick was having his way with Flex.

This was not surprising, as Breece knew that usually, the heel looked like he was going to win, usually cheating, but Breece was confident Flex would come back for the win in the end. After all, he was the champ. He would not lose to a guest star.

Toward the end of the match, as expected, Flex reversed Brick and whipped him into the ropes. Setting 6

up for his finisher, Flex whipped the monster Brick toward the other side of the ring with all the momentum he could. It was going as planned, but there was an unexpected problem. The referee was right in their path. With no time to avoid the collision, Brick and Flex smashed straight into the defenseless ref. The ref went down, out cold on the mat.

Being the honorable guy he was, Flex went to the aid of the referee. Back on his feet, fully open to the audience, the monster Brick reached into his trunks and pulled out what looked like brass knuckles. With Flex distracted, Brick slipped the foreign object onto his hand. He closed his fist around Flex’s hair, turned him, and smashed a loaded fist straight to Flex’s head. Brick turned the stunned man upside down, and in a fluid movement, with all his force, he dropped Flex straight onto his head and knocked him out cold. This was his finisher he called the Bricklayer, made famous just like the Undertaker’s Tombstone pile driver. Before going for the pin, he shook the groggy ref, who focused just enough to count onetwo-three for the pin. To everyone’s shock, ASW had a new champion.

As the audience came to terms with the shocking end, collective boos shook the fieldhouse. Brick just leered at them as the ref raised Brick’s hand, which held the championship belt.

Breece felt that the monster was staring directly at him. He’d felt he couldn’t hate Brick Layer more than he did before this match. But he now knew he could.

7

2 Breece never liked getting out of bed on school mornings, but this Monday he couldn’t wait. The final middle school basketball team would be posted.

“No breakfast, sweetie?” Breece’s mom called after her boy, who was already halfway out their trailer door.

“Not today. Big day at school. And you know I hate when you call me that!”

Helen intercepted her son before he could get through the door, wrapping him in a big hug. “You’ll never be too old to be my sweetie.”

Breece squeezed out of her embrace, and Helen yelled after him as he jogged toward school. “Don’t forget I’m working a double today! Your dinner will be in the fridge.”

Breece was used to that. His mother was a nursing assistant at an assisted care home nearby. She struggled to get them by on her poor pay, especially since her husband passed. But what she lacked in money, she made up with love for her troubled boy.

In school, Breece tried to walk nonchalantly down the hall toward the school bulletin board. He didn’t 8

want to appear anxious. Waiting his turn behind other players—some leaving happy, some disappointed— Breece was confident he would be one of the happy ones, as basketball was the only thing in life he loved.

At his turn, he read carefully the list of twelve players.

He was not on it! This must be a mistake, he thought.

He went straight to Coach Bailey’s open office.

Without an invite, he went straight to the coach sitting at his desk.

“There must be a mistake,” he said. “I’m not on the list, Coach!”

If it had been any other student, Coach Bailey would have thrown them out on their ear for such a disrespectful intrusion, but it was Breece, and Bailey had some understanding of the difficulty Breece was having over losing his father. He motioned Breece to sit.

“I’m the best player you have!” the boy shouted.

Bailey took a moment to compose himself. “Maybe you are, but a player does not make a team. And we are a team. You are undisciplined and lazy, except when playing for yourself. Totally selfish with the other players.”

“I work hard enough!” Breece retorted.

“I’m not in the business of hard enough, I’m in the business of better. Work on your attitude and discipline, and we’ll see next year.”

Breece exploded. “There won’t be a next year with an idiot coach like you!” He stormed out of the office.

For the rest of the day, Breece kept his head down on his desk to hide his tears. He never imagined hurt like this. It was even worse than suddenly losing his father.

Understanding how moody Breece had become of late, his classmates left him alone. It was a very long day for the sad boy.

9

In a deep funk, Breece ambled down the lane toward his trailer. The only thing he was happy about was getting home, alone. He did not want to talk.

“Little help!” a voice called toward Breece. Deep in his darkness, Breece did not hear the call.

Louder, another kid called, “Little help, buddy!”

Finally noticing, Breece turned back to see an errant baseball rolling toward him from the kids playing behind him. He had not even noticed them.

With an angry impulse, Breece picked up the ball and fired it far away from the kids. The problem was, the wild fastball smashed through a trailer window. The trailer of Brick Layer!

Running away, the kids screamed, “Brick!”

With as much sense as he had left, Breece did the same, in the other direction as fast as his feet could take him.

10

3 At least the next day was Saturday. Breece wanted to avoid people as much as possible while he was still processing the horrible, shocking news of the day before.

With his mom still in bed, he quietly slipped out of the trailer before he had to face her. She knew him better than anyone, knowing whenever anything was wrong.

He wasn’t ready for that conversation. Of course, she would feel deeply for the sad boy. After his father had passed, Helen had become even more overprotective. She was very concerned about how antisocial he’d become.

Before their family loss, Breece had been a normal happy-go-lucky kid. Not now. He was quiet and often dark. She hoped it would pass in time to heal the great pain of him losing his father. She was dealing with it as well, but she focused mostly on her only child. Her family lived in North Carolina, so there were only the two of them here. Working double shifts at the assisted care home was a very demanding job under any circumstance.

Working two shifts was brutal. But now with only one income, she needed the money. And she needed sleep whenever she could.

11

Out of habit, Breece found his way to the neighborhood basketball court. Bad decision: His friends were already playing. But they didn’t feel like his friends anymore.

They had all made the team, and he did not. They felt more like enemies now. Logically, Breece knew it wasn’t their fault. But it just wasn’t the same for him now.

Already involved in a game, the boys hadn’t noticed Breece until an errant ball came his way. The boys greeted him extra nicely since they knew he was still smarting.

“Hey, Breece,” his only Black friend, Jeremiah, called out.

Instead of passing the ball to the boys, who were in the middle of a game, he began dribbling onto the court.

His other friend, Wally, protested, “We’re already in a game. You’re welcome for the next.”

“I think I’ll play now.” Breece continued dribbling on the court and shot a swish.

“Not cool,” Bubby protested. Bubby had been held back a year in grade school. He was older and bigger than the others.

“What’s not cool,” Breece said, “is I’m the best player of you all, and I get cut from the team.”

“We feel bad about that, too,” Jeremiah chimed in.

“Not fair.”

The others agreed.

“Give me the ball, Breece,” Bubby said. “You can play the next game.”

Breece refused and held the ball.

Frustrated, Bubby said, “Stop being a baby!”

“You want the ball!” Breece responded. But instead of passing it, Breece slammed the ball straight into Bubby’s defenseless face.

12

On impulse, Bubby cold-cocked Breece straight to his jaw. Breece folded onto the court. But as soon as he could get up, he was in for more. He had a lot of anger to work out, but he absolutely chose the wrong guy to take it out on.

“Walk away, buddy,” Jeremiah pleaded. Breece did the opposite and swung a wild punch, which Bubby easily ducked—right before he planted a solid gut punch into Breece.

Breece was back down on the court, this time gasping for air. He slowly got up as he got his breath back. He was not done.

As he was ready to strike again, he was grabbed behind his collar by very strong hands. In the scuffle, the boys had not noticed the giant who had driven up—Brick Layer! “I’ve got this punk.”

The boys were frozen. They all knew Brick’s reputation. The monster broke their trance and growled, “Kick rocks!”

The boys didn’t need to be told twice. They ran away as fast as they could.

Brick dragged the injured boy into the passenger seat of his beat-up van and slammed the door. It didn’t take long for the stunned boy to wonder which butt-kicking would be worse, the one he just got, or the one he was about to get.

13

4 The two rode in silence for what seemed to Breece like an eternity. Finally, Brick spoke: “What good is fighting?”

“I could ask you the same,” Breece cautiously replied.

“Big difference. I get paid.”

“Look, Mister...Layer, I didn’t break your window on purpose. I just had a really bad day and lashed out at the kids. I just wanted to throw that ball as far away from them as I could. Honest.”

Brick said nothing.

Breece assumed Brick was taking him home to his trailer, but Brick pulled into his own gravel driveway.

“I’ll walk from here,” Breece said.

“Not until you fix my window, now I know you broke it. I get the trailer for free for my month here, but I had to leave a security deposit. Gonna need it back when I’m done.”

Confused, Breece said, “You didn’t know it was me?

I thought that’s why you came to the court. Looking for me.”

“I wasn’t looking for you. I was driving back from the Hardware Store with a new window. I saw a kid getting

14

the dog poop beaten out of him by a bigger kid. That’s never right.”

Now really confused, Breece asked, “You were looking out for me?”

“Don’t take it personally,” Brick said, ending the conversation. Now parked, he opened the back of the van. “The window and caulk are in there. I’ll be inside.

Let me know when it’s done.”

“I don’t know how to do this!” Breece said.

“You have a smartphone, don’t you?” Brick said, and Breece nodded. “Everything is on YouTube. Figure it out.” Brick headed into his trailer.

Breece considered for a moment. I could just run home. It only took a couple of seconds to reason that running would really be a bad idea. He couldn’t hide inside from that monster for a month. He pulled out his phone.

It took a few hours, but thanks to YouTube videos, Breece figured it out and replaced the window. Pride was an odd sensation for the boy. He’d actually done it. All by himself!

Breece knocked on the trailer door. No response.

After knocking again, with no answer, he decided to look around for a back door. In the backyard, he saw Brick bench-pressing what appeared to the boy to be an enormous amount of weight. As he got closer, he could hear, “97...98...99...100.” Brick clanged down the bar.

Breece was amazed that Brick didn’t even seem winded. The man had to be at least fifty!

Noticing the boy, Brick stood up. “Finished?”

Breece nodded yes.

15

Around the front, Brick looked up and down. “Not bad, kid,” he finally said. He grabbed the baseball and tossed it to Breece. “Take this to the person it belongs to on your way home.”

Breece nodded and started away. Then, turning back, he couldn’t resist: “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” Brick replied.

“Why do you work out so hard when...” Breece had a hard time continuing.

Impatient, Brick pressed the boy: “When? What?”

Breece finally got up the courage. “If it’s fake?”

“Wrestling?” Brick asked.

The boy nervously nodded yes.

Brick grew a big smile. Not what Breece expected, but in a flash, Brick had twisted the boy’s arm across his chest, then locked his own arm onto the boy’s wrist with his other hand.

“Now this is a simple Arm Bar,’’ the man said. “Does it hurt?”

Frightened, Breece quietly said, “No.” Brick applied a little more pressure. Before Brick could ask, Breece yelled in pain, “YES!” “I just got started,” Brick continued. “With several more clicks, your arm snaps.”

“Please, no!” Breece pleaded.

Again with lightning speed, Brick turned the boy away from him and lifted his left arm under the boy’s arm. With his other arm, he reached under Breece’s head, holding it firmly. Then he applied a little pressure on the terrified kid’s neck.

“Now this is a Sleeper hold,” Brick continued his lesson. “With a little more pressure, in a few seconds, you 16

will go unconscious. And then probably pee your pants.

Would you like that?”

“No, sir!” Breece begged. “Wrestling is not fake!”

Looking up, Brick saw movement on the lane. Some of the neighbor kids were walking by and noticed the commotion. Brick spoke to Breece under his breath: “Kayfabe!”

The kids stared in surprise.

“Sell, kid.” Brick applied more pressure on the boy.

Breece didn’t know what sell meant, but if it meant acting like he was in pain, he did not need to act. He was!

Brick growled at the gawking kids, “You want some of this!”

The frightened kids flew away like the wind.

After they were gone, Brick released the hold on Breece. As the boy pulled himself together, he asked, “What is kayfabe?”

“It’s when marks come near workers. We need to protect our gimmicks. All part of Pro Wrestling.”

Now really confused, Breece asked, “Marks, workers, gimmick?”

“Wrestling has a secret language, it all started back with the beginning of carnival. Marks are the buying audience, the people we are trying to sell them something to. It can be a prize or a wrestling performance. People want to believe what seems the fantastic. Workers are the working people who are in on the gimmick.”

“But you said wrestling was not—” Breece did not want to say the F word.

“It’s not fake. Most of the pain is real. The only way you can believably sell it. It is not fake. The result is predetermined. It’s the only way you can consistently do 17

the same gimmick from town to town and stay safe. It’s bad business if your workers get hurt every time. But we are very much professionally trained. If you stay at the same venue, like ASW, you must change up the gimmick to keep people coming back.”

Shaking his head, Breece said, “That’s a lot to process.”

“And that’s all I care to talk to you about. Take off, kid.”

Breece began to leave, but turned back. “Can I come back tomorrow?”

Brick considered. “I’ll think about it.”

18

5 The next morning, Breece found Brick lifting weights on his old bench in his backyard. For a middle-aged man, Brick was cut, Breece thought. Six-plus feet, over 250 pounds, all solid muscle. He was definitely the man Breece wanted to learn from.

Brick listened to the boy’s pitch while doing reps with what appeared to be an enormous amount of weight on the bending bar, and then said, “Why would you want to be a Pro Wrestler? There must be plenty of sports at your school.”

Breece felt embarrassed as he replied, “I was cut from the basketball team.”

“Not good enough?” Brick asked.

“No!” Breece shot back. “I was the best player. Stupid coach said I lacked discipline, not a team player.”

Brick thought for a moment. “Maybe not stupid. All sports demand discipline and teamwork, especially Pro Wrestling. Total team trust is critical in my sport. If we don’t totally trust our opponents, we get hurt. Or worse.”

This was not what Breece expected to hear. “It takes a lot of training, more than most sports. Most people don’t 19

make it through the first week. Even if I agree to train you, I’m only here for the month. It takes a lot longer than that.”

Breece continued his plea. “I’m in good shape, and...I think I’d be good at it.”

“What’s your name, kid?” Brick asked.

“Breece Harris,” the boy replied.

Brick thought about that.

After what felt like too long of a pause, Breece added, “Stupid name, I know. My father named me.”

“Not a stupid name,” Brick shot back. “Breece D’J Pancake. He was a great writer. Another died way too young. A sad casualty in my business, too.”

Shocked, Breece asked, “You read Pancake?”

“Wrestlers read!” Brick growled. “Don’t be dumber than I thought you were.”

“Sorry,” Breece said, looking down.

“What would your folks think about this?” Brick asked.

“It’s just my mom. Dad passed about a year ago.”

Brick was moved at this, “Tough break. Really sorry.”

“Yeah...stupid accident,” was all that Breece cared to say about that.

“How’s your mom?” Brick asked.

“Coping the best she can, I guess. With just her, she has to work doubles at the care home nearly every day now.”

Brick now understood why this kid was so troubled.

“While I think about it, take a run.” “Sure. How far?” The boy was encouraged.

Brick said, “Say to Chapmanville and back.”

“That’s gotta be over 30 miles!” Breece shot back.

20

“Then you better get started. No journey ends without the first step.”

That was an odd thing to say, Breece thought. But it would not be the last, as Breece would realize how really deep this man was.

Brick replied. “So?” Breece reluctantly said, “Yeah.”

“Yeah, what?”

Breece was starting to get it. “Yes, sir.”

“You’re smartening up already. And Breece?”

“Sir?” the boy responded.

“If I agree, that’s every morning.”

Breece gulped.

On the long run, Breece thought he could easily cheat—just wait for a while, and then jog back. But then he thought about the trust and discipline that Brick had talked about. He ran the whole way.

21

6 After his long forced run back to Madison the next morning, Breece dragged himself up to Brick’s trailer. He could see Brick reading a book on his small front porch.

As he got closer, he heard music playing through the window. It was no kind of music that Breece knew.

When Brick looked up, he saw the confusion on the tired boy.

Pointing to the direction of the sound Breece asked, “What is that?”

Brick realized the boy was referring to the music.

“Puccini,” Brick said. Seeing that Breece was still confused, he added, “Opera. It makes me feel better.”

As Breece sat down next to Brick, he asked, “A monster who reads novels and listens to opera? I don’t get it.”

“There’s so much you don’t get,” Brick said. “Time to start smartening you up.” It seemed Brick was going to train the boy, but before Breece could feel joy, Brick smirked. “Have a nice stroll?”

He was referring to the previous day’s run. The boy groaned, “Just jolly.”

22

Brick began. “First, if you are a worker you do not talk about the business to marks, the fans. They know what is ‘real’ or not, but they do not know how much of each is each. When a magician pulls back the curtain and the trick is revealed, the magic is gone. People need magic.

They need to suspend logic for an hour or so. We’re in the business of magic.

“The biggest misconception is wrestling is simply fake,” Brick continued. “It is not. The results are preconceived, but the wrestling is real. People think the matches are choreographed. They are not. Workers never have time for that. We usually only know right before we get to the venue. There is no time for choreography.

The booker tells us who we’re working, how long to go in the match. Time is critical for the whole event, who’s over, who’s winning. And what the finisher is, the pinning move. We talk it through during the match, called walk and talk. If a worker is properly trained, we quietly tell each other before the next move or two to come. That is why we are all trained with the same vocabulary. The heel always directs the match, whether they’re over or not.

The ref keeps them on time. He must be in on it to make it work. Even the announcer needs to be in the know in order to sell the match. Follow me so far?” Brick paused.

“Some,” Breece said, confused. “What is a booker?

“The boss who makes the matches. If he’s good at it, he knows not only the best matches, but also the longterm plan for a program, however long it goes. Some programs are just one night. Others, like WWE, their programs can last for a year. The booker writes it like a TV series. That keeps people coming back, wanting to know how it eventually ends. It’s athletic show-business.

The goal is to sell tickets.”

23

“How do you decide if you’re a babyface or a heel?”

Breece quizzed.

“You don’t, the booker does,” Brick said. “We all have good and bad in us. You just channel the gimmick you are given. Many workers will switch back and forth over time. The booker will call for a heel turn or a face turn, switching sometimes during a scheduled match. All designed by the booker. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. All decided by fan response. The ticket buyers or TV viewers.”

“Were you ever a babyface?” Breece asked.

Brick smirked. “Look at me. Would you ever think of me as a baby?”

Breece looked closer at the big man. He was not unattractive. Breece did find it odd that his entire forehead was covered with small scars. He wondered why, how. But no, he could never see Brick playing a good guy.

“Enough talking for today. Do fifty squats and we’re finished for the day.”

“Squats?” Breece asked.

“Hindu squats. Best exercise for wrestling conditioning. I don’t make a boy run for torture. You must have great wind for wrestling. Some matches go for an hour. You have to be in ring-shape. Gimme sixty squats.”

Brick demonstrated, standing arms out, squatting down, then standing back up, bringing his hands back to his chest.

This would be easy, Breece thought. And the first twenty were. The next thirty, not so much. And the last ten, brutal.

“See you tomorrow,” Brick said, leaving the kid as he went into his trailer and closed the door.

24

7 The next day was a school day for Breece. He not only hated getting up mornings and dreaded school, but now he would have to get up three hours early to make his forced run in order to train with Brick the next day after school. He tried to spring up when his alarm rang, but he found he had no spring. Still groggy, he wondered why he was so sore all over. Then he remembered: The dreaded Hindu squats.

The school day was especially painful for Breece. He typically disliked school, but now it was even worse. He had to face his used-to-be friends, who’d all made the basketball team. Rationally, he knew it was not their fault, but he was not ready to be rational. The pain was still strong. He focused most of the day on the clock, wishing time would go faster.

When he finally reached Brick’s backyard, he knew his second preliminary demand of the day before Brick would consider any instruction. He dropped and began his Hindu squats.

Brick walked toward the boy. “Let’s see your lockup.”

25

Breece knew this one. It was the starting move of nearly every match. The wrestlers face each other, each with a hand reached behind other’s the neck, the free hand draped over the crossed arm of the other wrestler.

As the two clinched, Breece thought he’d got his first move on properly.

“Not so stiff, kid!”

Breece had applied all the strength he had. “I thought it was supposed to be stiff.”

“It’s supposed to look stiff. Remember it’s all a work, beginning to the end. Seasoned workers hate when greenies work too stiff. It usually means that the newbie is dangerous. They’ll quickly give you a smartin’ up blow.

And you won’t like that. Let’s go again, make the start explosive, eye contact very important, the heel looking arrogant, the baby courageous. You be the baby.”

They connected again.

“Better,” Brick said. “Now we reverse it with the gobehind.” Brick put the boy’s one elbow into a hammerlock while slipping behind him, now facing both forward.

“Now you do the same to reverse me.”

Breece tried and eventually they both faced each other awkwardly with the same move.

“Again,” Brick said.

And they did, over and over.

Throughout the afternoon and into the early evening, Brick taught the boy several basic moves. Finally, Brick said, “That’s enough for today.”

Breece was happy about this. He was pretty spent.

Physically and mentally.

On the back porch, Brick brought them tall glasses of iced tea. After a few sips, Breece asked, “How did you get into wrestling?”

26

“I got a full college scholarship to play football,” Brick said. “After my first year, I felt I might have a good chance to go to the pros after graduating. My second year I had a bad injury. The kind that ends your season, maybe your career. Depressed, my grades dropped. I was not getting the same coaching support as when I was playing.

“I’d always liked wrestling, and living in the Carolinas I went to every event I could go to. At a chance encounter, after a mid-Atlantic wrestling event, I stopped in a restaurant for a late bite before heading back. And who would walk in? My wrestling hero, Dusty Rhodes, The American Dream.

“I respectfully greeted him, telling him how he was my favorite and was about to return to my table but he stopped me. ‘Gibson?’ Dusty asked. I was surprised because I hadn’t introduced myself. I nodded yes. ‘Man, you’re a great football player. I watch every game on TV when I can. Haven’t seen you for a while.’ ‘Yeah, seasonending injury,’ I responded. ‘Not looking good for my football career.’

“Dusty shook his head, ‘Same with me. I played college ball at West Texas. You’re a big, athletic guy. Ever think about wrestling?’ And the rest was history. Turned out, Dusty was not only the star, but also the main booker for the territory. He took me under his wing, got me trained, and quickly moved me up the ranks. I owe everything to this wonderful man.”

“Wow,” was all Breece could say. “The American Dream made you an American dream.”

Brick did not respond; Breece figured he didn’t like compliments.

“Take off, kid. I have to get to work,” Brick said.

27

“You have a job?” Breece said with surprise. “I mean outside of wrestling?”

“Yeah, the owner of ASW also has a local vending machine franchise around town. Gives us visiting workers part-time work at night. Spending money.”

Walking home, Breece started realizing that there were several layers of Pro Wrestling. The further down the rung you dropped, the less glamorous it was. His new mentor had dropped toward the bottom.

28

8 Over the next afternoon sessions, Brick taught Breece several basic moves, explaining which were heel, which were babyface, and which were either. Being naturally gifted, the boy took to it quickly.

Interspersed, Brick tried to teach Breece what he called the psychology of wrestling. Physical skill was maybe 20%. Eighty percent was the “psychology” of this sport. No matter how physically proficient a person was, this was primarily an entertainment business. You had to be a good talker to stay on top. Success is determined by audience response, proven by ticket sales or TV viewers.

He further explained: “Rule number 1: Have a gimmick, a persona that you think will get over with the audience. Sometimes it takes several tries to get the right one, the one that works. That is, if the booker will allow you the time.

“And rule number 2: Never believe your gimmick.

Put it away when not in the ring. The ruin of many good wrestlers was to truly believe their gimmick in the real world, negatively affecting every part of their lives.

29

Trying to always live your gimmick is a fools’ game. Been the tragic end for many.

“Almost all of real life is some form of a work, the way I look at it,” Brick continued. “We all are wearing some kind of a costume, acting in a way that feels right to us. It’s almost always based on personal truth, but always beware of what you believe as truth. I try to question it, and check it on a regular basis.”

That was pretty heavy stuff for Breece. He never really thought about “real” life, let alone a separate reality.

“Am I a babyface or a heel?” Breece asked.

“Neither,” Brick said. “For now, you’re just a trainee.

If you’re lucky enough to break into the business, the booker will determine that. But with your age and size, right now you’d have to be a baby.”

“Do you have family?” the boy asked.

“I did,” Brick reluctantly replied. “Back in North Carolina.”

“That’s where my mom is from. Wife, kids?” Breece pushed.

Brick was quiet for a long time. Finally, he said, “The forest of the heart should never be cleared of all the wood.”

“Huh?” the confused boy said. He often did not understand Brick’s philosophical explanations.

Brick tried to clarify, “Matigari. It’s an African novel.”

Breece had never read a novel, let alone an African one. “Huh?” “How about, none of your business.”

That, Breece understood.

30

9 Breece was happy when the school week ended; he could start earlier with his training. Of course, after his mandated dreaded run. But during that Saturday morning run, he realized that the dreaded run had become not so dreadful. Breece had been active in most of the sports available in his town and always considered himself fit. But his early training with Brick showed that he had found a whole new level of fitness. Without all the pain, Breece now realized that he could think deeper than he ever had during the run. And he sure had a lot to think back on. Facing his recent reality was much harder than anything Brick pushed him to do.

It was still morning when he reached Brick’s trailer, but as he got closer, he noticed another person sitting beside Brick on his small porch. As the men noticed the boy, Brick said, “Breece, meet my old friend.”

Breece cut him off with the realization of who was there. “Soul Daddy!” Breece still saw the man on TV sporadically, still a known presence in professional wrestling.

31

With a smile, Soul extended a hand to the boy. “Good to meet you. Brick tells me good things about you.”

The surprised boy happily received the handshake.

“Honor to meet you, sir.”

“Take a load off,” Brick said. “Have a sit with us. Soul is on his way to an event in Charlotte.”

Breece happily squeezed in on the small porch. He was in heaven listening to the old friends reminiscing about their years together in the business. Such a rich history.

After about an hour, Brick offered, “Want an iced tea before you have to hit the road?”

“Appreciate it,” Soul accepted.

“Kid?” Brick said to Breece.

“Sure!” Anything to have more time with these two, he thought.

After Brick walked into his kitchen, Breece got up the courage to ask Soul, “Sir, if it’s okay if I ask, what ever happened with you and Brick?

With a frown, Soul thought about it for a moment.

Finally, he quietly answered, “Very sad story, kid. After Vince sent us down to the Memphis territory, we were having a great run as the top tag team heels there. But every program must end. The audience eventually needs change.

“The booker wanted Brick to turn on me the next night. We were both cool with that—it happens often.

We figured we’d be back together eventually. But what I didn’t know until showtime, Brick no-showed. I asked the booker what had happened. ‘I sent him packing. You have a different opponent tonight.’ ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘Didn’t agree with the finish. Can’t have that’ was all he would say on the matter.

32

“I tried to call Brick for days, but he never answered.”

Confused, the boy asked, “What was the finish?”

Soul dropped his head more, “Well, as asked, I lost.”

“But what was the finisher?” Breece prodded.

“Pro Wrestling has never been politically correct. In fact, it often exploits the worst stereotypes of the day. Still does, just not as bad as then. They wanted my opponent to finish by smashing a loaded watermelon over my head, with weights inside. Of course, he was White.”

“And you agreed?” Breece asked.

“Sold it like a pro.” Soul shook his head. “Biggest regret of my career.”

They both stayed quiet until Brick returned with the drinks.

The wrestlers embraced and Soul shook hands again with Breece and headed to his car. “Wish you were coming with me,” he said to Brick.

Brick shrugged, “That’s the way the cookie crumbles.”

“Or the watermelon,” Soul sadly added.

“Good to meet you, kid. See ya down the road.”

“I hope so,” Breece replied.

To Brick, Soul said, “Love ya, brother.”

“Back at ya,” Brick answered.

Breece couldn’t believe that he could be more surprised by all the ironic revelations he’d learned from the so-called monster in their short relationship. Brick would find wrestling work as long as he was physically able, but never again at that level. The honor of this man would help guide Breece through the rest of his life.

33

That night, Breece dreamed of being in the ring with Soul Daddy. He was excited at first. Then the dream transformed into a nightmare, when the boy realized that he had forgotten everything that Brick had taught him.

He was lost in the match!

He woke with a start, slowly realizing it was just a dream. A terrorizing one. Breece thought, I have so much more to learn before Brick leaves.

34

10 Breece jogged the last few feet of his morning run to Brick’s trailer. As he got to the porch, Brick walked out of his door, locking it from behind. Breece was confused as Brick walked away from the front.

“Let’s go,” Brick said over his shoulder.

“Where to?” Breece asked.

“To the gym,” Brick replied. “I’ve taught you everything I can in the yard. It’s time to get you in the ring.”

Breece’s smile grew larger as they got into the van.

Wow, in a real ring!

Turns out, it wasn’t the kind of ring Breece considered.

Brick had a key to a run-down facility, a perk from being the month-long visiting star—along with the modest pay, the part-time work filling vending machines at night, and free rent from the ASW owner, Gary. To survive in the depressed economy of southern West Virginia, Gary had several side-hustles. As Breece would learn, owning and prompting a regional wrestling Federation was not a big money-maker. But Gary loved Pro Wrestling. Unlike many owner-promoters, Brick told the boy, Gary was 35

one of the best. He treated his workers well, and more importantly, he paid what he promised, always on time.

As Breece learned, that was not the case of all regional Feds.

In the small space that housed the dank training practice ring, Breece thought that this was far away of the glamorous world that he had imagined. After Brick finished turning on the lights, he said, “Let’s go, kid. Jump up on the apron.”

Breece followed Brick and jumped onto the ring apron. Breece asked the man why he first wiped off his boots. “Firstly, for practical reasons. Avoid dirt in the ring. You don’t want to slip. Must keep it safe as possible.

Secondly, psychological—the worker showing respect for the ring.”

Breece didn’t have wrestling boots so he wiped his white high-top Converse on the apron. He watched as the Pro Wrestling elder climbed between the top and second rope, into the ring.

After Brick walked methodically around the ring, as if in a show of power and confidence, he turned back, “The primary reason workers do this is because every ring is different. Each will have sags and what feels like holes. The cheaper the ring, the more imperfections that can hurt the worker, twist an ankle or worse.”

As Breece walked into the ring, the first thing that surprised him was that the spongy and springy surface was neither.

“I thought it would be softer,” the boy remarked.

“Most marks do. Most of the spring from the steel coils is for look and sound, not protection. Below the steel frames are usually 2x12 boards attached to the frame, a 36

single layer of plywood, and usually a thin layer of old carpet padding, then the canvas cover.”

As the two walked around the ring, Breece did find indentations and thin padded areas.

“What’s my first move?” the kid asked.

“No moves until you learn to bump,” Brick instructed.

“Just fall on my back? That’s easy!” Breece responded.

“That’s what all trainees think,” Brick said. “Until they try it. Many quit their training before they can take and master a proper bump.”

Brick guided the boy to the center. “A few seemingly simple steps. First, jump high into the air, land your body perfectly flat on the mat, evenly distributing your weight. As you land, slap your hands on the mat. This gives the loud sound effect, while helping to guide you evenly flat. And most importantly, tuck your chin tight down on impact. If not, your head will flop back on the mat, smacking you good. Usually, an instant concussion.

Veteran workers will have hundreds of these throughout their careers. You need to avoid this as much as possible.

We’ve learned through the years that multiple concussions have tragic results.”

“Piece of cake,” Breece said as he leapt as high and as he could. He did land flat, but forgot to tuck his head, which smacked back down. He saw stars, followed immediately by excruciating pain throughout his body.

“Piece of cake, huh?” Brick said.

After Breece regained his senses, he said, “I’ve never had pain like that.”

“Yep,” Brick replied. “And if you can’t bump, you can’t wrestle. It’s the center of every match. No shame in quitting. Many do.”

37

As Breece got the stars out of his head, he responded defiantly, “Heck no!” Breece was determined to not fail again.

For two hours Breece attempted the painful move over and over. After the first bump he learned to tuck his chin tightly.

38

11 The next day was a school day, so Breece sprang out of his bed when he heard his early alarm. The problem was, again he had no spring. He hurt from head to toe.

It was demanding just to sit and stand. Even pulling his socks on took a monumental effort. The so-called “easy” bumps had a long, painful effect.

In the kitchen his mom looked funny at Breece as he carefully moved past her to leave. “You okay, son?” she asked, concerned.

Breece tossed it off. “Yeah, just slept funny.”

The boy had barely talked to his mom since their family tragedy. Helen tried patiently to wait for her son to come back to the loving child he was before. She really missed that. And now, needed it more. Having to work so much now to get them by compounded her sadness.

Even if he wanted to talk more, she was rarely available, working doubles nearly every day.

“No breakfast?” she asked.

“No, I’m good,” Breece said over his shoulder, leaving.

“Have a good day,” Helen called after him. If he heard her above the closing door, he did not reply.

39

His morning run had become less painful, but today it was extra painful from the bumps. Was this worth it? he thought.

After his long school day, he was back in the gym with Brick. Noticing the boy’s pained movement, Brick tried to reassure him, “It will get better.”

Under his breath, Breece said, “I sure hope so.”

Brick guided Breece to the center of the ring. “We’re going to run the most basic move in wrestling, the International. It’s called that because workers around the world call it that. Many work in foreign territories, and this gives them a common move to start, regardless of language.”

“Did you work in other countries?” Breece asked.

“Sure, Japan, Austria, Canada, Mexico,” Brick replied as if it was nothing. “Good money.” To Breece, it was certainly “something.”

“You know all the moves. We practiced them in the yard. Now in the ring, we can run them in a series.” Brick walked Breece through each of them. “Headlock, push into the rope. When off the ropes, tackle, drop down, then hip toss. You can repeat that or go into anything then.”

During the walk-through, they heard a voice from behind: “Take a son to work day?”

They turned to see Flex in his workout gear with a big smile.

“Hey Flex, just teaching the kid a few basics.”

“Hey Brick. Good to see you, brother.” Breece was stunned by the true affection of these two mortal enemies who battled each other in the ring at the last show.

40

Flex hopped up on the apron to extend a handshake to Brick. Brick warmly reciprocated.

“Breece, this is—” “Flex Package!” Breece blurted.

Flex laughed and held out his hand to the boy. “Good to meet you, Breece.”

Breece happily shook hands with his local hero.

“Flex, run the Universal with Breece.”

“Sure,” Flex said, wiping his boots and moving into the ring. Flex connected with Breece, calling each move out. Breece couldn’t believe he was wrestling with his hero. As they went through the routine for the first time, Breece was picking it up pretty quickly.

“Yeah, buddy,” Flex said. “Just like a dance. One takes the lead, then the other follows, building to the climatic finish.”

That made good sense to the boy. Like a dance.

The fourth time through it, Breece hit it all nicely.

“Good job, kid,” Flex complimented the boy.

Breece turned to see Brick smiling. He was actually wrestling! he thought. But before he could absorb the feeling, a voice shouted back at them, “What the heck are you all doing?”

They turned to see the Fed owner, Gary. He was not happy.

“Just trying to teach the kid a few things,” Brick told his current boss, landlord, and employer.

“Have his parents signed a hold-harmless agreement?”

Breece shook his head no, not actually sure what it was.

“No agreement, no wrestling,” Gary said. “If he gets hurt, they’d sue my pants off.”

41

Brick turned to Breece, “Would your mom sign?”

“I don’t know. She’s been very protective since...” He did not finish, but Brick understood.

“Would you like me to ask her for you?”

“I’d appreciate it.” Breece said. “But first you’d have to catch her.”

“At the Madison Care Home?” Breece nodded.

“I’ll see her, I fill the vending machines there.”

42

12 That evening, Brick took a long time refilling the vending machines at the care home, hoping Breece’s mother would walk by. Eventually, he saw an attractive Black woman in her 30s, wearing her uniform. Brick stepped closer to the woman, reading a file at the front desk. He made out her nameplate: Helen.

“Mrs. Harris?” Brick asked. She looked up cautiously at the big, imposing man.

“Yes,” she cautiously responded.

“Mrs. Harris, I’m sorry to bother you. I’m Leslie G—” “You’re the wrestler! Breece thinks the world of you.”

Helen’s caution had dissolved into a smile.

“Yes ma’am, Leslie Gibson,” Brick finished. “That’s why I stopped by. Do you have a minute?”

Helen motioned to the waiting area, “Just a few.

More rounds to finish.” They sat facing each other in the waiting room.

“I’ve been training your son after school in my yard.

He’s a good kid. Natural physical talent, and he seems to love wrestling.”

43

The compliment made Helen smile more. “Breece is a good kid, and I see his old goodness starting to come back out since he’s been with you. I really appreciate that, he used to be such a nice, joyful kid before...” She had a hard time finishing, her smile evaporating.

“I understand, ma’am, and I’m truly sorry for your loss. Has to be incredibly hard on you both.”

“What makes it worse, when I need to spend more time with him as we grieve, I have to work even more on just a single income. Between the grief and guilt, it’s... hard. That’s why I really appreciate the attention you’ve given him. I’ve been starting to see glimpses of the old Breece since meeting you.”

“It’s been my pleasure, ma’am.”

“It’s Helen, just Helen to you.” Her sweet smile was starting to come back. “After the life insurance declined our claim, I had no choice but to work more for us to get by.”

“Declined?” Brick was confused.

“Seems there was a suicide clause in the policy. No payout.” As she looked back up, she saw the shock the man could not hide. Understanding his reaction, Helen continued, “He told you it was an accident, didn’t he?”

Brick nodded.

“He still can’t yet accept the truth. Hard for me, too.”

“In a small town, the tragedy is magnified for us.

Being a mixed family was hard enough, and after Johnny and I got together, his family disowned us. All of my family is back in North Carolina. It’s just us here.”

“I’m from North Carolina,” Brick said, trying to soften the moment.

“I’d love to move back to be around family, but we’re pretty stuck here for now.”

44

“Really sorry,” was all Brick could muster.

Helen continued, feeling comfortable with this stranger. “Johnny was a good man. A sensitive man. That was probably his downfall. He was a poet, just starting to get published, but to make a living for us, he worked as a substitute teacher. He loved the kids. When the county eliminated most of the sub jobs to save money, Johnny was out. Being on welfare was too much for the proud man, I guess.” She changed the subject. “How long will you be around, Mr. Gibson?”

Brick gently corrected her. “Leslie, please. That’s actually why I’m here. I only have a couple more weeks on my contract with ASW. I’ve taught Breece everything I can in my yard. He needs to get in the ring to learn more while I’m here. There we can at least teach him the basics.”

“We?” Helen asked.

“The other wrestlers there. The problem is the owner insists a parent sign a hold-harmless agreement since Breece is a minor.”

“Is it dangerous?” Helen asked.

“No more than any other sport he plays. Especially with the boys and I looking out for him. The boy has really taken to it. And he sure seems to love it.”

Helen turned this over in her head. “I need to think about it a bit.” But she accepted the form Brick was holding.

“Of course,” Brick replied. “I’ll support whatever you decide. Good to meet you.”

As he stood and turned to leave, Helen added, “Thank you, Leslie.”

Brick smiled. “Totally my pleasure...Helen.”

45

13 Getting out of bed was torture again for Breece.

He realized it was not just from the back bumps, but throughout his body. He was startled when he looked in the bathroom to see the bruises he had from top to bottom. Must have been from the workout I had with Flex, he thought. I must get better at how I hit and land.

Especially with the ropes.

It had turned out that beyond the rubber coating was unforgiving steel-wrapped wire. Easy to crack a rib if you hit wrong, he was told. He packed a pair of long sleeves and long pants, and folded them into his school bag for after his run. He didn’t need more reason to stand out to his classmates.

Brick came out of his trailer, seeing Breece drag up after school, now back in his gym clothes. Brick looked at him funny. “You look like a bag of buttholes.”

“Thanks,” Breece sarcastically replied. “You should see the other guy. Oh, that’s right, you are the other guy.”

This made Brick smile, and he almost never smiled.

Breece handed Brick the signed Release.

“How did that go?” Brick asked.

46

“Actually, it was good. Mom came home early from work to catch me while I was still up. We had the best talk we had since...we lost Dad. I promised her I would be careful. She said she had full trust in me, and you.”

“She’s a good woman,” Brick nodded.

“She thinks highly of you, too,” Breece added.

Over the next evenings, many of the ASW workers came into the gym to work on new moves, and some said to get the ring rust off. Each and every one of them greeted Breece warmly and eagerly helped the boy learn new moves. Some were babyface moves from Flex, Shane Storm, Huff Manly, Rambo, and Ron Mathis.

Awesome Allen was the most helpful, teaching him a vertical suplex, where he applied a front face lock, lifted the opponent straight upside down, then fell backwards, slamming the opponent down on his back. Breece was surprised that the high-flying move did not really hurt when done properly.

On one move, Breece hit wrong and stopped in pain.

“What’s wrong?” Allen asked.

“Hurt my nards.” Breece grimaced. He loved the movie Monster Squad.

“Then sell the nards,” Allen said. “Make everything a part of the work.”

The heels—Cuban Assassin, Brick, and another big guy Breece did not at first recognize—taught him their basic bad-guy moves. Then Breece noticed the big guy was Death Falcon Zero, without his mask. He later explained that it was called a hood in wrestling.

Brick gave Breece his first chop. This is where the opponent would slap the another with an open hand on 47

a bare chest. When done properly, it made a loud pop on contact. Breece thought Ric Flair was the best at that. He also didn’t think it looked painful. Even kind of girl like.

When Brick first landed the chop, Breece felt electricity shoot through his body. Then real pain set in. How wrong he was! What looked easy and painless turned out to be the opposite.

Gary came by every evening, looking over his talent, as the wrestlers were called. He paid particular attention to Breece. He was surprised at how quickly Breece developed.

Even referee Steve New came by to work out. Breece learned that refs trained just like the workers. Steve was a worker before Breece’s time and, as he aged out, became a very successful businessman. But wrestling stayed in his blood. He became the main ASW referee, refusing money. Just for the love of the game.

On the Friday evening practice, Gary brought the boys together to discuss their upcoming roadshow Saturday evening in Sabine. It was a small, out-of-theway town, but those people loved their wrestling.Always good houses, good attendance.

When they were driving back, Breece was quiet for a while. Finally, he said, “Sure wish I could go.”

“Oh, you’re going,” Brick said.

“Really!” Breece said excitedly.

“You’re a trainee, you have to help set up the ring and take it down.”

“Cool,” Breece said. It can’t be that hard, he thought.

How wrong again he was.

48

14 It was hard enough to disassemble the old ring and truck it three counties away, but to do it again and again?

As Brick explained, none of the indy rings were made the same way and were often homemade. There was a heavy steel frame with four sides that you could take apart and reassemble. Always a variation of industrial steel springs, covered by a layer of plywood, covered by a thin layer of carpet padding, finally covered by canvas with a logo on it.

As fans started filing in the empty volunteer fire station, dozens of steel folding chairs surrounded the ring. Breece hid himself in a chair alone. The workers had gone into the makeshift locker room. Most of the crowd were coal miners or associated with the industry. This small, isolated town was starved for entertainment.

Referee Steve moved up behind Breece and whispered, “Come with me, kid.”

When they got out of earshot, Breece asked, “Where?”

“Gary wants you in the locker room. He’ll tell you.”

That’s all Steve would say.

49

The locker room turned out to be a big, industrial janitorial closet, haphazardly strewn with folding chairs and cleaning supplies. And an oil drum container marked “Danger: Industrial Waste.” So much for the glamor of Pro Wrestling, Breece again thought.

As he was instructed, he shook hands with every worker, ending with Brick, who had a chair for him. Brick was not fully dressed in his gear yet, and Breece looked at his bare legs. Long giant, scars circled both of his knees.

He looks like Frankenstein, Breece thought.

“So, I’ve told you all the matches, times, and finishes,” Gary said to the assembled workers. “Except you, Brick.

Flex has moved to Florida. He got a better spot with a Tampa Fed, and we wish him the best. But since I can’t figure a contender for your last match with us next weekend in Madison, tonight, I want you to curtain for a quick squash.”

“Sure,” Brick said, “Against who?”

“Against the boy.”

“He’s just a kid,” Brick said. “The marks will never accept that.”

“Just put him under a hood.” Gary continued. “He’s tall for his age, he’s brown, they’ll just think he’s a Mexican Luchadores. When you squash the vastly outmanned kid, the crowd will pop. They’ll hate you even more.”

“Can I give him a little something? The kid can work.”

Brick asked.

“If you insist, but make it little and short to the finish.”

After Gary left, Breece was totally confused. “Curtain?

Squash?”

“Curtain is the opening match,” Brick explained. “A squash is just like it sounds. The heel makes quick work of the babyface. But I’m giving you one move.”

50

Totally confused, Breece said, “I don’t have a hood.”

“I’ve got a hood for you,” Death Falcon said, reaching in his gear bag and pulling out a colorful, ornate mask.

He handed it to the stunned Breece. “Once in Mexico, they had me work as a face there. They call it ‘Tecnico’.”

Shane looked at him funny. “You were a face?”

“That’s what they paid me for,” DFZ replied with a shrug.

“What was your name?” Allen asked.

“Free Bird,” DFZ said. The locker room erupted in laughter. “Hey, I love Sknyard! They didn’t care.” More laughter.

The other boys pulled out their gear bags for something that would fit and work for Breece. Quickly, they found a pair of pleather pants, and a colorful tank top that would match the hood. But no boots that would fit him.

“Just go barefoot. It will add to your wildness look.”

Brick said. “It’s only a minute or two.”

DFZ handed Breece a CD. “Your entrance music.”

As the workers settled down, Brick instructed Breece: “As soon as the bell rings, no dancing, straight to the center, I punch, punch, punch, then dazed, I whip you into the turnbuckle. Remember the Sunset Flip Awesome Allen taught you?”

Breece nodded.

“I run and slam you once, twice, and on the third to finish you, just before I connect, you quickly push up off the ropes, and flip down my back, reach under pull my legs backward to a pinning position. As soon as Steve slaps the mat once, I’ll clap your ears, pull you back up and deliver my Bricklayer, laying you fully out. Steve will slap one, two, three. Got it?”

51

“I think so. What do I do then?”

“Sell your butt off. After I leave the ring, someone will come for you. Just stay down, out.”

In the makeshift staging area inside the curtain, a loud peppy salsa song blared.

“That’s you,” Brick said. “Ready, kid?”

“I feel like pooping my pants,” Breece replied.

“Don’t do that. It’s not a pretty picture. And never goes over with the crowd. I promise. Now go!” He shoved the boy through the curtain.

At first the audience did not know how to feel about this atypical-looking wrestler. They murmured as Breece slid into the ring. He tried to look strong and confident.

But he was shaking in his boots—if he had had them. He was barefoot.

The announcer, Adam, rang out: “From Oaxaca, Mexico, Free Bird!”

Breece wondered where the heck that was.

“And for the ASW champion...” Heavy rock blared, but before Adam could finish Brick’s announcement, he flew through and slid into the ring with a growl, ready to fight.

“Ring the bell!” Brick yelled. And they did.

The match was like a blur for Breece. As Brick went for his third body slam, Breece popped over the ropes, slipped down Brick’s back, and pulled the man onto his back. The ref slapped once, and Brick re-had the advantage fast, and Breece felt himself upside down, straight down to his head, for the Bricklayer. Steve counted, “One! Two! Three!”

Brick whispered, “Thank you.”

52

Breece wondered what that was all about as boos screamed through the firehall. As Breece was selling being out cold, he tried to think back. It was so fast he barely felt his head hit the mat for Brick’s mighty finisher.

After Brick’s music faded, Breece heard voices coming toward him. He felt several people carefully lifting and carrying him through the curtain and into the locker room.

There, all the baby faces hugged and congratulated Breece on his match. Stunned, back in his chair, Brick said, “Not bad, kid.”

No compliment could have been better for the boy.

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15 When the event was over, Gary strode into the makeshift locker room, handing envelopes to the workers.

The last one, he handed to Breece. Breece opened it to count forty-two dollars and fifty cents, in cash. It seemed like a fortune for a kid. He was a paid professional wrestler!

“Thank you, Mr. Gary,” Breece said.

“You earned it,” Gary replied. As he was walking away, he turned back to Breece. “And kid, bring your gear to the event on Saturday.”

Breece looked at the workers that had lent him their gear. All silently nodded, several with smiles. These are really good people, Breece thought.

Before Breece could absorb the feeling of success, it was time to break down the ring and drive it back to Madison. But when he went for his street clothes, his Converse were missing. Panicking, he looked everywhere.

He asked Brick.

“Sure don’t,” he said. He asked the other boys. No one claimed to have seen his missing sneakers. Breece had to do all his work in his socks. He was bummed; those were his favorites.

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While driving back, Breece was trying to think back on every moment of his first match. He wanted to record every moment of that short but historic event. As he got to the end, he turned to Brick. “What was up with the thank-you?”

“It’s tradition,” Brick explained. “When a worker gets the final pinfall on an opponent, they whisper a thanks for putting them over. It takes them both to have a good match. Each has their job.”

Breece thought about that. How honorable for an industry that was generally based on the illusion of truth.

“What are you going to do after Saturday with your run over?” Breece asked.

“No more work or free rent. I’ll hit the road again,” Brick said. “Nothing new for me these days.”

This made Breece feel very sad. This man had become much more than just a friend. “Where will you go?”

“I’m pretty near the end of my wrestling career.

Not many options, even if I were able,” he said. “I was thinking back home, North Carolina. Try to mend some bridges. At least those that are mendable.” Brick added, “I’ve got a cousin there who has a rental for me, but it’s not available for a month.” Brick sighed. “Sure wish I just had one more month here, but that’s not how it works in this business. Gary has been good to me, but the way he runs, he has to bring in a new name each month.”

“Where will you stay until then?” Breece asked.

“Not around here, for sure. Can’t be seen. That would be bad for the business.” Brick added, “Down the road, in my van, I guess. Will not be the first time I lived that way.

I can take it for a month.”

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Breece thought that this was terribly sad. This dignified man, a many-time champion, living in his van.

Sometimes life really isn’t fair, he thought. There’d have to be a way to keep him here for just another month.

As Brick dropped Breece at his trailer, the boy in only his socks sadly thought, Mom is going to kill me for losing my shoes.

Brick rolled down his window, “Look in the back of the van.”

Breece did. Right on top were his Converse.

“Did you do that?” Breece asked.

“Nope. The boys.”

“Why?” Breece asked.

“It’s a rib. The workers are notorious for that. Proves you are accepted. If not, you wouldn’t want to know what you’d find in there.”

Breece did not want to know. The boys had respected his young age, but they were a rowdy lot. I was accepted, Breece processed. He smiled.

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16 Early before the show, all the ASW Workers assembled in the locker room, waiting for Gary to give them the lineup for the big Saturday night show. Breece had his borrowed gear in a locker beside Brick’s. He had no idea if, or how, he would be involved.

Gary announced two undercard matches. “As you know this is the last night with us for Brick.” He turned to Brick. “And we sure appreciate your time with us.”

All the workers clapped in their sincere appreciation.

Brick pulled his half-smile. Breece learned that was the most emotion you’d ever get from him.

Gary proceeded, “With Flex gone, I don’t have the right contender for Brick to drop the belt. So, I’ve decided the last event will be a big Battle Royale. Brick is the last in and a mystery person, hiding throughout under the ring, quickly slides in and rushes Brick, who is standing at the ropes, facing the crowd, after he thinks he’s thrown out the last opponent. Mystery person gets close to connect, Brick turns around sensing someone.

As he turns, mystery person hits the defenseless Brick

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with a big clothesline, sending him backwards onto the floor. Mystery person wins it all.”

“Who is the mystery person?” Rambo asked.

Gary smiled pointing to Breece. “The kid.”

Breece was stunned, as the whole roster was.

“How does that work?” Alan asked.

“I’m bringing in Headshrinker Samu for next month as heel...

Cuban chimes, “Cool, Anoai’I dynasty.

“Yep,” Gary confirms, WWE, WCW, ECW, and all the other great Feds. “Rambo hooked it up for us. They worked a lot together with House of Pain. Thanks, John.”

“Yeah, a good guy,” Rambo said. “Sweetest guy you’ll meet. Out of the ring, that is. Otherwise, a beast!” Rambo laughed.

“Cool,” Shane said. The others agreed.

As Gary was reading the order of ejections, Breece struggled with the news. It was so far-fetched for the boy to comprehend.

Brick sensed his concern. “It’ll be fine,” he reassured Breece. “It’s just a work.”

“I’m winning the belt my second match. Taking it from you?” Breece had so many mixed emotions about this.

“Crazy game, buddy,” Brick said trying to reassure him. “I’m gone anyway. Why not give you some shine.”

“Just doesn’t feel right,” Breece said, conflicted. Win the most cherished ASW Belt, but by beating the most important man in his life.

In a Battle Royale, it was all the wrestlers in the ring, last man standing wins. No rules, the only requirement was ejecting a worker from the ring, hitting the concrete 58

floor, landing on both feet, thus eliminated. In a Battle Royale, the ref works outside the ring, confirming the ones disqualified.

To cue Breece hiding under the ring, Steve would slap the side of the apron, where he knew Breece would be. He would slap the side letting him know it was time.

Underneath, Breece could hear it all, but could not see. He was glad he’d gone to the bathroom before. He was so nervous. He thought there would never be time for his sneak entrance; it seemed like it was lasting forever.

Finally, ref Steve slapped the side of the apron, time for Free Bird, Breece. He popped out of what seemed like nowhere, slid in the ring, and rushed to the unexpected opponent. Brick had his back turned toward the crowd.

When the crowd rumbled that something unexplainable was happening in the ring, Brick heard the incoming footsteps and timed his turn around. Just then Free Bird Breece hit Brick with the biggest clothesline he had. Off balance, the man was going backward on his way toward the floor. But in a last moment, Breece pretended to lose his balance and vaulted his side over the rope, catching up with the falling Brick. Just before both of their feet hit the floor, Breece gave a final push and landed firm a split second ahead of Brick, keeping Brick the champion.

The crowd erupted in loud boos and some cheered for the bizarre finish. Stunned, Brick quietly said, “You probably just ended your career with All Star Wrestling.”

“Then why probably?” Breece said as he whipped off his mask, revealing himself to the audience.

“It’s Breece!” one in the crowd yelled in shock. Many others joined in recognition, disbelieving. The crowd had never been so surprised by any finish in their lives.

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To add shock to the crowd, Breece grabbed the Belt where the stunned ref Steve held it. He pushed it to Brick, grabbing Brick’s arm in victory. It took the stunned man a moment, to pull his arm away.

“You know what I got to do now?” Brick said under his breath.

Breece quietly said, “Yep,” trying to stifle his smile.

Brick threw his giant fist straight into Breece’s forehead. He had to appear strong as the top heel. Breece dropped out cold, like a sack of potatoes. Breece sold the heck out of the pulled punch.

As the loud chorus of boos rang out, Brick arrogantly strode out to the locker room with his championship belt. Breece struggled to not smile, selling being out cold on the concrete floor. He had never been this happy in his life.

All the workers stayed quiet in the locker room, worried about how their boss, Gary, would respond.

They could never stay mad at Breece; they had become very fond of the boy.

As Gary unemotionally passed the pay envelopes to his workers. He waited last for Brick and Breece. Breece was worried.

He handed the boy his last ASW paycheck, shaking his head. “Swerve one of my finishes? And a main event, at that?”

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Gary.” Breece was truly sincere.

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciated this opportunity.”

The workers would miss him, but he had broken a wrestling cardinal rule.

“You’re done here. But I’m kind of glad to have the big monster here for another month,” he said as he left.

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The boys gave Breece a goodbye handshake as he and Brick left. “I’ll see you all in the stands,” Breece said as they left the locker room.

Driving home, Breece and Brick stayed silent. Breece wondered if Brick was mad at him. Finally, he said, “I know I can’t work anymore, but can we still hang out?”

Without looking up, Brick said, “Of course. I’d be disappointed if not.”

That was all the thanks, and more, Breece needed.

When Breece walked into his trailer, he was surprised to see his mom sitting in their kitchen. She looked as if she had been waiting.

Breece burst out, “Mom, you’ll never believe what happened?”

Helen smiled. “I would. I was there.”

“You were at the show?”

“Do you think I would miss that? I took off work.”

Helen walked to her son and hugged him. “I’m so very proud of you. That was so selfless of you. My Breece is back.” She knew her son; she knew that it had all been his plan and only his.

That was the best hug that Breece ever had.

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17 The next school year, Breece did not try out for basketball, even though he was confident he’d make it this time. Instead, he tried out for the wrestling team.

Not only did he make the team, but he also made varsity, winning more matches than he lost his first year. He loved it. And he always treated his teammates and opponents with respect, the respect he’d learned from Brick and his mates.

In high school, he twice won the West Virginia State Championship, both in his junior and senior years. He held several school records.

During his senior year, he was offered full sports scholarships to several D-1 universities. He chose the Mountaineers, but not the Mountaineers that everyone expected, up in the northern part of the state. He signed his scholarship to the Appalachian State University Mountaineers in Boone, North Carolina.

They had a very good program. And plus, his mom was moving to Boone as soon as Breece graduated high school. Her family was there. And she got a new job as a 62

supervisor at a very nice care home there. The opening was made possible by a tip from the maintenance man: Brick Layer. But everyone called him Leslie now.

For the first time, Breece had a real family. Helen’s extended family and Brick with his family, the ones that eventually accepted him.

He remembered the last thing Brick said as he was leaving Madison: “Life is a work. Make it a good one.”

Breece was sure that he would graduate at ASU. His mom and Brick would make sure of that.

The End

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Books by Daniel Boyd The Adventures of Wandala Miss Dirt Turtle’s Garden Club Tavey’s First Hunt

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Breece Harris, a troubled, mixed-race 12-year-old, has been cut from his middle-school basketball team for a lack of discipline. A happy kid growing up, Breece has become a bitter adolescent, transformed by the recent sudden death of his father. His world turned upside-down when Brick Layer moved into their trailer park for his 1-month guest residency for a local Pro-Wrestling Federation.

Brick is known as the worst of bad guys, known as “heels” in the business. When he reluctantly agrees to train Breece, the boy quickly learns that “you can’t judge a book by its cover” as the thick, thoughtful layers of the perceived brute are revealed to him.

Breece slowly develops discipline and respect, but first, he has to survive the brutal training regime…

“Like any great Wrestling Match, this book is Over (Winner)!

Watch out for the swerves. Tremendous!”

Bobby Blaze Smedley Author Pin Me, Pay Me!, SMW, WWF, WCW “This middle-grade marvel made me want to ‘walk the ring’!

Book reviews by J.V. Poore For Goodreads Daniel Boyd is an acclaimed filmmaker (Chillers, Strangest Dreams, Paradise Park), a two-time television regional Emmy nominee, a multi-nominated graphic novelist (Chillers I & II, CARBON, SALT), and playwright (Paradise Park the Musical, Space Preachers Musical, Miss Dirt Turtle’s Garden Club Musical). The Adventures of Wandala, Miss Dirt Turtle’s Garden Club (NGIBA Finalist), Tavey’s First Hunt are all Gold Mom’s Choice Award Winners. As a former professional wrestler, Boyd worked nearly 100 matches in 3 countries, winning 4 belts. A retired media studies professor at West Virginia State University and three-time Fulbright Scholar, Boyd also taught around the world, including in Tanzania.