Wrestling And Depression Part Deux

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I first wrote about depression around 2 or 3 years ago now. Excuse the ballpark figure, but who can be arsed actually fact checking when it involves such strenuous activity as typing a word into a search bar. Point is, it was a while ago now. That first post was to be perfectly honest a liberating experience. To have so many people not only appreciate the most difficult words I’d ever managed to string together somewhat coherently, but to tell me the words helped THEIR struggle and they saw some comfort in reading about someone experiencing similar things that they do on a day to day to basis trying to conquer this beast once and for all, it was the most surprising and rewarding thing I’ve ever stumbled into. Not to mention the wee added bonus that writing about it became therapeutic and helpful to my own battle. We’re all winning out of this one guys. I planned to write a book about this soul sucking affliction and I still plan to/have written bits and pieces but how can anyone who’s such a horrendous, fucked up mess of a human do a thing like that? Write a book. Please. Try sorting out the sorry pile of humanity that looks back at ye in the mirror first eh. Having ambitions is silly. Goals are for other people. Better people. People who have it together. People who know who and what they are. Not you, with the apprehension and the sweat rapidly racing off your forehead like its late for getting in some other poor cunt’s eyes. Not you constantly making excuses to stay in your own wee safe haven. Away from them. Away from the eyes, and the judgement. Away from anything that isn’t perfectly still.

The thing about mental illness I’ve learned above all other things is that it’s a sneaky wee bastard so it is. Let your guard down to it and it’ll eat you alive. Stop doing the things that make it better and guess what? It’ll get fucking worse won’t it. Of course it will. Self explanatory. Don’t deviate from a path that brought success. Don’t take your eyes off the ball, or the ball becomes a medicine ball dipped in concrete heading right between your eyes, taking your head off your shoulders. And there lies the problem with being involved in something that relies on your brain being functional, creative and open. When I first started writing about pro wrestling it consumed me with fuck all but pure joy. Fuck all but worry free escape. Who gives a flying fuck who says what about it, its only words. The logical side of the brain can tell you that sunny shit all day long. You could even give someone a job following you about whispering “You’re fuckin amazin, and yer dick is perhaps the most aesthetically pleasing one ever conceived” in your ear every 5 seconds and it still wouldn’t work. You’d just be a mentally ill cunt with a wet ear listening to the even louder voice in your head telling you its not possible. You can’t do it, you’re the guy who had a panic attack in Central Station and had to get the bus home quietly in angst soaked tears because getting a train to a college course that was supposed to put you on the path to journalistic superstardom was too much that day. You’re the guy who pursued fuck all in a romantic sense for the best part of 10 year because the image that looked back at you in the mirror was sad, specky and definitely dying alone. Why even bother trying. Why.

I guess what I’m trying to articulate is that suffering from anxiety and depression is like a constant internal battle. For a while the side telling me I was worthless and good for fuck all except crustin up socks won every single day. A landslide in favour of fuck all. Sit and do nothing. Watch a TV series. Watch another one. Drink a beer alone. Drink 12 beers and a half bottle of vodka alone. Vomit up 12 beers and a half bottle of vodka alone. For fuck’s sake don’t let your brain wake up and realise what you’re trying to do to it. I wanted my brain to die. I wanted it numb. Having no thoughts other than how I’d be spending the next hour of that present misery ridden day. When I started writing regularly for the first time since I was at school the other side starting grabbing the odd unlikely win. The side that saw the good shit. The side that thought a life of eternal solitude wasn’t a guarantee. Don’t get me wrong, even the more positive side still thought that one was likely, but at least I was open again. I had purpose, and felt like something I was doing mattered and I honestly had no expectations from it at all. Everything was a bonus. Everything felt so very “yasss”. A wrestler agreed to an interview? Fuckin yass. Many wrestlers agree to interviews? Fuckin yass, plus yaldi, plus OOOH WEE. A wrestler agrees to a sit down interview? Fuckin yass plus yaldi, plus OOH WEE, plus OH MY MY, WHAT A GUY. Mick Foley DM’s you at 1am saying he really liked that piece you linked him to about ICW and that he was a big fan of your style. Fuckin…are you……is this….a joke? HOW? WHAT? WHY? REALLY??? NO WAY. Naw….naw fuck off mate. Naw.

You catch the drift there, point is, it was fucking emotion I’ve never really felt before. Mick Foley is my all time hero in wrestling and up there with my auld man, and former Celtic playmaker Lubomir Moravcik when it comes to my heroes in life generally. There’s no one I looked up to as a young yin quite like Mick Foley. Maybe its because I grew up overweight and he didn’t have the chiselled abs like the rest of the spandexed bruisers I loved watching batter lumps out each other. Maybe it was because his character tore his hair clean out his skull and I felt like doing the same to mine (figuratively like, I was bald as fuck from ages 15 to 25). Maybe it was because up against all kinda of evil he still had a soft side. Almost a innocence that remained it tact no matter how many things lined with thumbtacks got smashed off his skull. No matter how many times a “game” wielded a sledgehammer at him. No matter how many times an Undertaker actually tried all he could to put Mick Foley in the ground for good. He never relented. I love John Cena more than most, but as far as I’m concerned he’s borrowing “Never give up” from a man who literally didn’t seem to know how.

I don’t know if this deep seeded desire to never give in was driven by the voices in his head telling him HE couldn’t do it, but the fact is something kept telling Mick Foley to get up and that resonated with me. I remember staying up till 4-5am to watch the 2000 Royal Rumble, when I was at an age where staying up till that time was actually not allowed as opposed to an ill advised decision I make regularly as an adult. WWE had recently secured a deal with terrestrial TV station (purely used that word cause typing channel twice in a row wis hurtin ma brain) Channel 4, meaning the Royal Rumble could be watched without me having to beg my mum n dad to shell out 15 quid for the PPV on cable. Mick Foley under his perhaps most fabled Cactus Jack guise would challenge Triple H for the WWE Title that night and honestly, as much as the death-matches with Terry Funk and the one where he was tossed from 30 feet in the air through a table probably brought him closer to his maker than any other contest, something about this one felt more brutal. The punishment he took that night just seemed to mean more for some reason, because in my naive little brain I was CONVINCED he was taking that title from the man attached to a nose known as Triple H. Good would triumph over evil for once. Violence for the sheer fun of being violent would triumph over huge nosed violence for personal gain. Sitting on the edge of my seat quite literally watching that, and the heartbreak that came with Foley’s loss to The Rock at that same event the year before after the most sickening and probably slightly illegal attack with a steel chair I’ve ever seen are two of the most prominent and important memories I have from growing up watching wrestling. Seems weird that two of the moments I remember more than most are two high profile “failures” but it felt good to believe in someone and be lost in those moments so much that it almost felt like YOU were there. That time period solidified Foley’s role as my hero, the gift (and perhaps the curse) he gave me in 2015 was a different kind of heroism.

I think the most troubling aspect of being validated by my all time hero was the fact that I suffer from mental illness at all. If I didn’t, such a beautiful joyful thing could never have been turned into a negative but almost instantly when I read Mick Foley’s first DM to me I wondered what made me worthy of that? I mean think about it for a second, of all the wrestlers who have gone on to write books, Mick Foley is by quite a distance the most esteemed as an author and has gone on to write several more critically acclaimed books. He has a talent for this very thing I’m doing right now. To have him tell me I was talented at a thing he’s very talented at himself was just incredibly surreal. To have him vow to share my work on social media platforms where literally millions of people follow him was almost too much. I felt mostly great about it all, but the doubts were still there. The doubts that it was all a fluke, and maybe if I hadn’t written about a promotion he was about to appear for, he wouldn’t have read it at all. Truth be told that’s probably the case as he likely gets linked to all sorts every day in his social media life. The perils of being a famous man on social media. I wondered why it was right that social media connecting us all made it so easy for me to make an impression on a man who had to do a lot more to make an impression on me all those years ago. All I did was include his handle in a tweet to get him to notice me, when he nearly fuckin died trying to entertain me.

When I first started writing I had absolutely no expectations for it, but the all-time, never to be reached but keep shooting for it anyway goal was to interview wrestling people. That was it really. I’ve always been interested in stories more than any kind of critical evaluation when it comes to wrestling, so when folk occasionally pull me for not being critical enough it kinda baffles me. I’m not in an informed enough position to fire a star rating at you or tell you what you done wrong in a match and I never will be. Its a role I’ve never been comfortable with in the slightest, but telling someones story? I’m all in for that. Getting the chance to sit next to people you admire and have them give you the time of day enough to really get something good out there is a buzz I’ve never come close to doing anything else “professionally” and when I started doing it, that unattainable goal was sitting next to the man I admired the most in wrestling and getting to pick his brain a wee bit. So I figured “fuck it”. He messaged me after all. He’s in the country for ICW in a few weeks. Why not just ask. What harm can come of asking? Well, him saying no, but apart from that? A no can only kill the self esteem after all, the human shell would still remain. BUT HE FUCKIN SAID YES. Cutting a long story very slightly shorter, he said if he had the time he would do an interview with me and a month or so later there I was. Sitting next to Mick fuckin Foley with a dictaphone and my actual phone just in case the dictaphone fucked up, asking him questions. Interviewing Mick fuckin Foley. Fuck.

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It went by in a 15 minute literary heart attack. A blur. Somehow I was coherent. Somehow I asked questions that mattered to me and mattered to him. Besides transcribing it the day after I haven’t actually ever listened to it back, but a recording exists of me interviewing Mick Foley. That’s real and it fuckin scared the living shite out of my barely functional brain. How did we manage that one? The interview happened after a Micks standup show the night after ICW at the SECC, and he left for Manchester right after, with everyone else still at the venue. I remember standing outside waiting for a taxi when Billy Kirkwood pulled up on his way out asking if I was ok for a lift, and as soon as he pulled away a few tears ran down my cheek. I don’t know what specific feelings were attached to those tears at the time, but christ, around 2011-2012 I didn’t see a future for myself at all. In life. The only thing preventing multiple suicide attempts was cowardice and a reluctance to leave my loved ones with a similar pain to the one I felt every day just from being alive. The best future I seen for myself was somehow getting some kind of IT job as far away from the world as possible and becoming one of those middle aged guys with a shit tonne of money cause they spent their 20s and 30s hidden away from the world getting really invested in weird Japanese porn. The point is, to go from that daily torment to standing outside The Stand in Glasgow after having a dream literally come true, and being able to tell my long term partner about it later carried a significance that can’t be summed up properly with words. My self worth had never been higher in my adult life than it was at that point and well…fuck. Where do we go from there? The only way is dooooooown.

Truth be told from the moment I put that interview up until very recently something’s been missing. I don’t love doing this any less than I did at all. In fact quite the opposite. Often me not writing much is due to loving it a bit too much and fretting about coming up to this imaginary standard I’d set in my head. Truth be told if Mick Foley liked anything about my stuff it wasn’t the quality control aspect of it. I write what I feel and overthinking is very counter productive to doing that. Or at least doing it well. I went off anti-depressants, then back on them, and finally off them again. I got a job and for the first time in many years, maybe ever, I had a pretty normal life on the go. Girlfriend, job, even some friends for fucks sake! Something resembling a social life. Things to do that made sitting torturing yourself over the words you are writing and the word’s you haven’t been able to muster just wasn’t the same anymore. I think for a wee while I was denying it to myself that this is what I want to do with my life and quietly that was wreaking havoc on my self esteem all over again because I stopped doing one of the things. The things that made this mental illness shit seem like less of an “illness”. The things that lifted the proverbial black cloud. The key one was undoubtedly throwing myself fully into something I loved. Something I felt deep down I was born to do. Being a writer. Spending every spare moment writing for better or worse. It has to be this again.

For the past few months, on and off, I’ve struggled again. For the past 2 weeks or so, its been an unrelenting restlessness. A feeling that I’m not doing enough that’s been impossible to shake. Weirdly working in a paper shop was one of the triggers. Front page of one of the rags with a shiny celebrity (be fucked if I know who) telling us how she “Beat” depression. Turn to page fuck yersell to read how you can beat it too! The only time the media really want to cover mental illness is when there’s chaos involved in the lows, or triumph in the highs. No one wants to talk about the day to day struggle. No one wants to cover a story about a person having what they consider to be a good day purely because they overcame depression enough to eat a meal and leave the house. No one wants to talk to you about coping mechanisms, they either wan’t you to be a mess drowning in substance abuse or “cured”. There is no cure. You could be months, years, fuckin decades free of it and one day it could decide to fuck with you again for no reason. That’s the nature of it and telling folk otherwise, pushing this stupid idea that if you do certain things or be a certain way you can be rid of it for good, is something that will forever insult and eat away it me. The only thing you can do is make day to day life easier. Sometimes a lot easier. You can recover and learn to live with it. You can find things that help rather than habitially doing things that harm. One of the few things that helps me is doing this. Because it always has been and always will be a coping mechanism and that’s ok. I think I resented it being a coping mechanism for a wee while and stopped writing about mental illness because I only wanted happy things to be attached to this but that’s not what writing is. Writing is getting the wet-suit on and scuba’ing to the deepest darkest shitest most self doubt ridden corners of who you are and pulling out the words regardless. Fuck giving up. Fuck going backwards and reverting back to the guy who wanted to die. Fuck watching this writing caper pass me by for another minute. While having a full-time job fucks with it slightly, no more excuses. No more letting my brain talk me out of doing what I love. No more of anything between 3 and 6 weeks going by without a single word going on this site. I interviewed Mick Foley ffs. I am something. I am someone. I have depression.

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ICW Fight Club Review (September 2nd 2016)

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Folk are very split about this Team Dallas vs Team Black Label carry on. People don’t like aspects of the storyline. Seen it before. As much as I understand where that point of view comes from, without this storyline we don’t get Red Lightning. Well we might have him in some capacity, but this version of him? Nah. Even at a 50/50 split in the ownership he’s still at his brilliant best. Wielding that power, and basically existing as a walking middle finger thrust right in the crowd’s face. He came out and immediately tore Simon Cassidy to shreds, after our esteemed ring announcer tore his “nephews” the rich kids to bits on one of the Asylum shows. Rounding off the tirade with a brutally emphatic “yer shite”. He’s no shite, but that’s how good Red is at being the perennial baddie. He can deliver absolute out-and-out lies with such conviction that you at least believe HE believes them, and for a wee second ye actually wonder if Simon Cassidy is actually shite.

He then went on to explain how Wolfgang was most certainly NOT shite, and the shiny gold thing round his waist was proof of that. This is the part I don’t get about folk not being into the storyline,  because on more than one occasion as a fan, you’ve been sent home raging. Joe  Coffey won the ICW Title and Wolfgang cashed in his shot at the most logical time and folk considered that to be some kind of insult. Unless Joe was to somehow get run err by a bin lorry or suhin, catching him seconds after he’s just produced a monumental effort to beat Big Damo was fuckin smart, and you’re supposed to be sent home raging sometimes. Progress sent their fans home raging for the best part of two years when Jimmy Havoc was champion and do you know why they did that? Cause cunts bought they tickets mate. Cunts snapped them up, cause they wanted to see if the next show would be the one where he’d  finally get what was coming to him. Judging by the amount of bodies in the ABC for Shugs 3 and the amount of bodies in The Garage for this taping, it would appear the moaning means fuck all, and for every person who thinks this storyline is shite, another 5 are buying tickets to the next show, just in case that’s the one where someone finally puts Red Lightning on his arse. Just in case thats the one where Wolfgang’s opponent picks up the brass knucks and knocks the big bad wolf the fuck out before taking his shiny pride and joy aff him. Dallas eventually stoated out and threatened to strip the BELT aff him if he laid a finger on him, so instead he laida finger and many other body parts on DCT. The man who answered his challenge for an ICW Title match, only problem was, he answered that challenge with a concussion….

Wolfgang (c) vs DCT – (ICW Title Match)

People should really have a long hard think before they wrestle Wolfgang in general. Big tank of a cunt who can fly, and has a wee button on the side of his haun that turns his knuckles into brass plated death instruments. Deciding to wrestle Wolfgang with a fuckin concussion is just ill-advised. Dallas reluctantly and perhaps mistakenly agreed to let the match go ahead despite DCT not having medical clearance and adrenaline carried him through the early stages and scoops were being dished out left, right and centre before DCT’s shaggin legs finally gave oot. Aw they years of having to support the weight of aw the heavy-set burds he rode in The Savoy’s toilets finally took its toll, or maybe it was the concussion or something, but either way, he collapsed, and so did his chances of becoming the ICW Champion.

He battled bravely, but wrestling a guy who already had a size and power advantage over you while you have a concussion and he disnae, and he has two pairs of brass knucks tucked in to his boots and you don’t is…silly. Wolfgang jabbed fuck out the resilient International Sex Hero, before a popup powerbomb and a one-two knockout combination with the double brass knucks led to Thomas Kearins calling it. DCT was laid the fuck out, and the big bad wolf had made an almighty statement. Don’t fuck with the guy wae the shiny waist and even shinier knuckles. He will leave you lying in a pool of yer ain mess.

Kenny Williams vs Aaron Echo

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Honestly thought he’d have got sick of them long before now, but it appears Aaron Echo’s affiliation with the Hi-Tec hat wearing walking scudbooks that make up the rest of “The Rich Kids” is stronger than ever. He is the triumphant boaby and they’re his annoying pubeless baws, and they either need to drop naturally or Echo needs to drop them by force. Pretty sure there’s a metaphor hidden in there somewhere but long before Echo was a rich kid, him and his auld pal Kenny done battle in one of Echo’s first ICW matches in a match that experts called a “stoater” so we could expect more of the same here eh? Especially with oor Kenny having an almighty bee in his bonnet having been handed the ICW Zero-G Title at Shugs 3 only to have it snatched back off him immediately.

Kenny was in frantic slingin’ elbows fae aw angles mode early on, before a sentient scrotum in a green jaisket held his leg when he went up to the to rope, causing a worrying looking situation where it appeared that Echo was going to suplex Kenny right into the area of the crowd I was standing in. No needin a Kenny Williams slung at me big man, please refrain from throwing any Kenny Williamses at this time. Instead Echo set him up for that sare looking slingshot double stomp thing he does with the opponent set up in the corner leading to a display of dominance that was only derailed when his pals got involved again, as Kenny pretended to be dead while one of them held him awkwardly for about 10 minutes before Echo realised and jumped oot, Kenny of course moved out the road and Echo walloped his pal before we got back to the scintillating in-ring goodness. Kenny went for the middle rope clothesline and was met by Echo’s newly baldy dome, before a second attempt at it hit home. Anytime the match was looking like the absolute cracker they produced before, one of chuckle brothers got involved and fucked it. As Kenny went for a sunset flip, Echo held on to the middle rope and his wee pals held on to him, enabling him to get a very cheaty win. 

Echo departed by telling the commentary team that his win would be the start of something good. I sincerely hope it is for him and he goes on to batter aw the cunts (eventually his two pals at some point anaw surely) but it could also be the start of something good for Kenny. It was the first time after a loss where he looked genuinely downtrodden as if he was looking for answers and that could mean the time travelling “General Bollocks” happy go lucky caper becomes a thing of the past, and we’ll get Kenny pulling his hair out after defeats and cutting holes in his skinnies as he slowly transitions into a moody wee menthol fag smoking “AH HATE EVERYCUNT, ESPECIALLY MA MAW!” goth. 

Lewis Girvan vs Colt Cabana

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This was…..aye. Odd. Tense as fuck. You could tell during his entrance this wasn’t the Irn Jew Colt. This wasn’t the excited to be wrestling with or against Grado, Colt. It seemed like a Colt Cabana who didn’t really want to be there. Everyone seen all the patter on Twitter about it so obviously something happened between the two of them, but ultimately, who cares? I’m pretty sure folk have disputes a lot in wrestling, maybe some people don’t actually like each other, but fans shouldnae be able to notice that. There’s still a job to be done and while the match was actually hugely enjoyable, there was something off. Colt wasn’t his usual self, and there was a team of folk to my left who were extremely excited to see him when he came out. Folk like that deserved a bit better, but who am I to judge him? Maybe he had the cauld, or he was right nervous about making it back to Edinburgh in time for his last show of the Fringe, but either way, him looking not that fussed to be there, and leaving after his win like there was a moving car going past The Garage that he had to jump in to left a bit of a sour taste.

See if there’s genuine friction between them, they should maybe sit down together and watch the match at some point in their lives. Actually sit and take it in, because when they weren’t nipple crippling each other and generally drawing each other daggers, they worked well together. Match was loaded with sexy wee pinning combinations and Girvan brought all the skills out in Colt. I suppose folk who despise each other do have history for having good matches together. Bret Hart very rarely ever had a bad match and he hates everycunt, so it can be done. At one point Colt started dishin out mad chops and slaps to the chest and there was something unsettling real about it all. He held him in a front facelock for about an hour afterwards, clearly worried he’d annoyed his young opponent to the point where he might have decided to bite his ear aff and spit it at him. Everyone kept their ears. Instead Colt won with a wee rollup and was gone within 20 seconds of that win.

I’m really not having that the reason he left so swiftly was that he had a show to make in Edinburgh. Having a show to make in Edinburgh doesn’t prevent you from spending a minute with the crowd. Pretty much looked like he didn’t want to be within 100 feet of Lewis Girvan and that was the reason for his swift departure but at the end of the day, no matter what went down with them, Colt still won. Surely that should evoke enough happiness to at least dish out a high five to someone with one of yon Cabanarama heidbands on. A wee part of me was quite sad it was over because I enjoyed many aspects of the match, but it was also quite awkward to watch at times. If I wanted to watch cunts who proper hate each other have a scrap I’d lead a group of Celtic fans to Andy Goram on the day of an old firm game. That’s no what the wrestling’s for. Be good to each other.

Krobar vs Iestyn Rees

Fuckin huge shame for Krobar but very early in the match he took a right sore hit off one of the barriers and the match had to be stopped. A strange way for big Iestyn to get his first ICW win and he didn’t seem to want the match stopped, but it had to be. Krobar took a sore yin and looked out the game immediately after. It was definitely the right call to end it before further damage was done. Hopefully another opportunity comes his way soon.

Stevie Boy vs BT Gunn

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He’s a right wee bad bastard these days but how can you be a human wrestling fan and not love Stevie? He comes out to the best tune ever invented on this planet we call earth, and batters folk in the most palatable way possible. Everything he does in that ring is just “aye…aye mate….keep daein that” to the point that there’s maybe only one wrestler out there that might be very slightly better at wrestling in that combative style and that happens to be the guy he’d be facing in this here match. This is maybe the third or fourth time they’ve wrestled in singles in ICW and for me this was the pick of the bunch. Something so much more natural about the dynamic where Stevie is the baddie and BT has all the crowd support. It just worked and this match was an utter stormer from start to finish.

It more like an episode of Gladiators than a wrestling match when these two batter each other. They are pretty much a pair of walking assault courses and when they collide, it leads to a lot of assault. A lot of kicks to the face, and chops designed to dislodge ribs. If they did end up teaming together regularly when they were both in the NAK, they would have definitely done the tag team division Just-Uz (ye see the joke there is….ah you get it, yer a smart kid) but they are so much better suited as enemies. Stevie spat right in his foe/best pal’s face and away they went. Rapid jabs from both before BT levelled Stevie with a sickening chop. The tone had been set. A chair was immediately introduced and coincidently referee Thomas Kearins took a seat moments later. The chair was involved but instead of sitting on it he got cracked over the napper with it, a moment that caused Stevie and BT to briefly halt their attempts to kill each other before quickly getting right back in to kicking each other square in the jaw. Shots each. The ref being down isn’t a huge problem when a superkick party is happening, but BT ended the sequence with a Tiger Bomb and there was naecunt to count the pin. That’s when John Anderson being oot the game needs dealt with, so in came…eh…I don’t know the name of any other refs in Gladiators so this is falling on its arse. It was Sean McLaughlin to the rescue, sliding in to count a 2 on Stevie. The crowd were counting before he arrived, but you do not have the counting expertise of Sean so please do not interfere with his work in the future.

More than his work got interfered with moments later as he also fell victim to chair-err-the-napper-itis, an illness that appears to be claiming referee’s up and down the country. John Rowbottom woke up wae a sare heid the other morning, nae idea why. Its spreading. So with Sean out, BT once again found himself with no-cunt to count his pin, and during his futile attempts to wake one of the deid refs up, Stevie hit the Destroyer on a chair. Still nae ref. We’ve only got 2. Gladiators might have had more actually, so it probably would have helped if this was actually an episode of Gladiators, but luckily for Stevie, Kearins was stirring and he woke up just in time to count a two on BT and go straight back to sleep thanks to a right hook to the temple from Stevie. A cautionary tale. If you come within 100 feet of Stevie Boy and BT Gunn fighting, yer gonnae end up catching something to the jaw and going to sleep. Be it a stray kick, punch or pool cue. Its happening. BT responded to the latest ref casualty with a brainbuster on to a chair. This time it was Sean’s turn to wake up briefly and count the two, causing BT Gunn to fire into a blind rage and decapitate Sean on the spot. Samurai sword took his heid clean aff. Nah I jest, he survived long enough to see Stevie split BT’s skull in half with a thunderous chairshot, before BT somehow managed to perform a top rope Angle Slam with his skull split in half. Remarkable feat that somehow STILL didn’t get the job done. Stevie didn’t even get his full arm up, he just shifted his shoulder off the canvas and no more. A top rope Angle Slam mate. That would be enough to slay a giant. That would put John Cena away ffs. But no Stevie. No the day.

He made it to his knees. Defiant. Three members of the NAK decided to split the group up that night back in March, but he’s adamant it was his doing. The mastermind. The mad reverend. BT Gunn is the kind of guy who has trigger points. Words you can say that cause a reaction in his brain. Whenever someone speaks of any kind of death of the NAK, he’s fuckin off. You’ve brought this on yourself. A couple of beautiful kicks to the jaw followed by a Destroyer from BT finally brought it to an end. The match anyway. As gutted as he would have been to lose the match, it was still all to play for on Stevie’s end. The end game was never winning a wrestling match, it was always killing BT Gunn.

There seemed to a semblance of respect between them immediately after the match before Stevie went for blood. He placed BT’s head in a chair before kicking it, causing the immediate death of BT Gunn. He then put another chair round his neck and hit that chair with ANOTHER chair. Pretty much mutilating a dead body in public at that point before disappearing through the curtain as if it was nothing. If Stevie Boy isn’t the best villain in ICW right now, show me who is. Who else is so fuckin outwardly evil with nae moments of relief? There’s nae wee funny moments with Stevie, nae one liners, he’s just a mad killer and when he’s given a platform like the one he had with BT, he shines.

Cheers to David J.Wilson for the excellent photo at the top of the page.

 

 

An Interview With Wolfgang

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I’ll keep this wee bit short and sweet. Wolfgang (with hauners from a certain Mr Balor/Devitt/Prince) is the reason this blog exists today. His match with Prince Devitt at ICW Hadouken was the first thing in a long line of things that brought back my passion and excitement for wrestling. Without that show it might never have happened. So to have the chance to interview the big man and to have him quite excited to do it was a buzz and a half. Probably my favourite thing about doing this so far. Fanboy shite out the road, Wolfgang has been a busy boy over the past year or so. Knocking fuck out his cousin and playing a pivotal part in the rise of ICW and Scottish Wrestling in general. I asked the big sexy bastard some inane questions and he answered them. Those answers are contained below. Enjoy.


 

Generic opening question. How did you get into wrestling, what made you pursue it as a career, and how did it lead you to try to kill your cousin by hanging him by the neck from the top of a cage? Sorry. That’s not quite as generic as this question usually is, but equally important.

A generic answer to a generic question. I’ve always loved wrestling since I can remember. Growing up I had two videos, Mega Matches and Royal Rumble ’91. Grew up playing wrestling out my back garden, ruining my Mums couch cushions by throwing my mates into them outside. Me and a few friends including Tam had our own we wrestling thing going. Until I learned how dangerous it was. My dad brought me the record with an article of Jake Roberts, who was in the country working. He mentioned BCW in East Kilbride, where I trained for almost 10 years. I took to it as naturally as I had thought I would, and was soon getting bookings on shows. To grow up from the age of 14 in and around wrestling has been very rewarding. Going from wrestling Tam in the back garden to wrestling him in the Barrowlands and inside a steel cage at the ABC will always be a fond achievement for me.

You wrestled Prince Devitt at ICW Hadouken in 2012. That was my second ICW show, and even though I’d enjoyed them, I reckon that match was the one that got me hooked. Is it a match you look upon fondly yourself or am I romanticising it?

The match with Devitt in 2012 was a big night for me. I hadn’t seen too much of his work before, but I was well aware of the reputation he carried. I had my work cut out for me and I had a point to prove. Dallas had put the responsibility of showcasing the guy who was/ is regarded as the best in the world on his debut for ICW. It was a challenge I was more than happy to take on. It’s always refreshing to go in the ring with someone better than you, and it always makes you raise your game. If I could wrestle Prince Devitt every night I would. We ended up winning ICW match of the year for that, and I believe it was because of what Devitt brought out in me that night is why I was also awarded wrestler of the year by ICW

WATCH IT RIGHT NOW OR YOU’RE BANNED FROM SNAPNEXXX. Even if you’ve seen it before. This is not optional



We spoke to Red Lightning recently about the GPWA, so wanted to get your take on it as well. How did your involvement in it come about?

GPWA was an opportunity that I threw myself at head first. It’d always been something I thought I would eventually do, and that I would enjoy it. Once I got the go ahead, that we could open a wrestling school, I head hunted the rest of the coaches. Each one of us brings something unique to the table, as well as a universal knowledge and experience of professional wrestling. Personally it’s reignited a passion for wrestling training again. I think we have created a great programme where aspiring pro wrestlers can learn their craft. I look forward to every training day at the asylum, and what the future has to bring.

What have you made of the trainees so far? With your second intake starting a few weeks ago you’ll probably have a fair idea of how the original group have fared.

Now we’re half way through our 2nd intake’s introduction programme, it’s been good to see comparisons in each class. The first group were very impressive, almost all of the starting team moved on to the main class. They have continued to show commitment and hunger for their training at the asylum. Intake 2 is full of exciting talent, if they all move on we are on to a great start. It doesn’t stop there though as we are continuing to gain interest from the Scottish wrestling scene. We are all overwhelmed by the response so far and I want to thank everyone that has shown their support for us so far.

For anyone thinking of signing up, here’s a photo of one of the trainers hitting another one with a plancha off the top of the cage. This is the kind of stuff you (probably wont) be learning. 

plancha

Your focus has shifted from going after the ICW Title, to knocking lumps out your cousin over the past year. As captivating as the feud with you and BT has been, is the focus going back on the big belt now the match at the Square Go is done? How did you rate the cage match up against the other belters you two have had?

After finishing my feud with Tam in ICW at the Square Go, I want to focus on keeping my strong position on the card. I’ve done everything worth doing in Scottish wrestling, it to hold the ICW heavyweight title would be the pinnacle of my time in wrestling. I’ve had chances in the past and been unsuccessful, though I’ve never been this focused on my direction in ICW. I had the chance to face Drew when he was first back, in Dundee during the Magical Mystery Tour. This was before he beat Jester at the Barras. He beat me that night, though I know if I raise my game I could take that belt off him. Though I can’t just demand a title shot, I need to earn that. If that means going after everyone on the card, bring it on.
Lets be honest, who else can catch cunts mid air and powerslam them? Damo probably. Mossy. Everycunt could probably do it to Lou King Sharp too, but BT Gunn isnae a flyweight and check Wolfy powerslamming him into next week here. What a match. Get ICW On Demand right now and get it watched. 

pslam

Speaking of the BT feud, I know you totally hate him and all that right now. I’m sure Christmas Dinner was indeed a tense affair, but how much have you enjoyed being able to create such compelling things in wrestling with someone you’re related to? Has this current run between you been the best yet, or as there some hidden gems we might not know about? (fuck, thats about 3 questions in one, just pick yer favourite and answer that one)

Working with BT Gunn over the past year or so has been my favourite time in wrestling. We had a few matches together early on for BCW, SWA. The first time we did it in ICW was my favourite match from then on. I challenged for his ICW Heavyweight title on April 1st, 2012 in the Garage. As much as I enjoyed the match hold it in high regard, it was over shadowed by Ice Man’s retirement match. So we knew that we worked well together, and that if we were permitted, we could create a good run together. I didn’t imagine we’d go through what we did though. We had to raise the bar every time, to do better than the last time. We used every opportunity we were given to make sure folk remembered us. If that meant throwing him off a balcony, or wrapping a chan round out necks and hanging each other, so be it. The icing on the cake was ofcourse the cage match at the ABC. Never thought I’d ever do that. Can’t wait to do it again.

What are your long-term aspirations in wrestling? In terms of size, and athletic ability, you’re quite unique. Not many 19 stone guys can clear the top rope with big death-defying dives. Is there designs on experiencing wrestling outwith the Scottish/UK scene?

A long time ago I let go of any aspirations to going to America. After that I never applied myself outwith Scotland. Red Lightning once told me “we don’t need to go over there, I think something bigs gonna happen here”. He was right I guess. We aren’t making mega money, we aren’t flying round the world, but we have come a long way and we aren’t loosing steam. From here on out, if I never wrestle again, I’m proud to have been part of what Scottish wrestling has become. If I helped that at all, I can say I achieved something worth while. 

wgang

And I’m………..spent


ICW go back on tour early this year. Tell us why you think everyone should shift their hole and get some tickets to some shows?

ICW is the most exciting thing going right now. If you aren’t already a fan, you don’t know what you’re missing. There’s something for everyone at ICW. Whether you’re a wrestling fan, a former fan or even had no prior interest in wrestling, I guarantee you will enjoy ICW. It has some I the best wrestlers in the world, from new talent to established world wide performers and even some famous faces show up unannounced. That’s ICW’s thing, they give the fans what am they want to see.

Favourite match of your own to date? And favourite match generally if you have one? If you don’t have a favourite for either, feel free to use this space for drawing a picture, or scribbling down a limerick.

The collection of matches with BT Gunn over the last fued are all favourites of mine, my favourite being the dog collar. My personal favourite match is Austin v HBK Wrestlemania 14. It was when I was most into wrestling I think, or at least that started my love of it. Had a poster of Tyson holding up Austin’s hand at the end and you see Michaels in the background sparkled. If anyone had that, I’ll buy it.

Mania 14 is my favourite Mania. I think this makes me and Wolfie best pals. Or we’ll at least nod at each other the next time I see him. I did ask him oot for a pint one night, and he said he’d rather impale himself baws first on the top rope. I didnae believe him so he snapchatted me this. I don’t have snapchat, so he sent me it via post and 5 days later I literally and figuratively got the picture.

 

wofbaws

HERE’S THE REAAAAAL BREAKING BAWS

 

Scottish wrestling has gone through a bit of a boom period over the past couple of years, with the growth seeming to continue upward. Is there a hope that one day wrestling can be your full-time job while located in the UK?

If Scottish wrestling continues to grow the way it is, there’s every chance the main stay guys can make this their full time job. I’m in a position now that between working at the asylum and wrestling for the regular running shows across Scotland, I could consider to try and make a go of it, though the La Cala is still my job.

Last but not least. Anything you want to tell us about (like any upcoming gigs for your new band featuring wolves as backing singers…Wolfgang and The Wolf Gang….that sort of thing) feel free to do that here.

Thanks for your interest and time, always enjoy reading your stuff. Hope you get that book published. I’d also like to thank everyone that’s supported Scottish wrestling these past few years. It’s because of your passion and belief in the cause that pushes myself and the rest of the guys to put on the best show possible. Everyone that has achieved anything these past few years owes it to your support. Cheers.


What a lovely, passionate man Wolfgang is. Quite cool to be thanked for my time by a guy who’s entertained me time and time again with all that good wrasslin stuff. A touch taken aback tbh. This is the bit where I usually thank the person involved for doing it..so aye….cheers Wolfy! Here’s a picture of you doing a sexy big dive to finish us off

wolfgang

EAAAAAGLE

Follow Wolfgang on Twitter here
Like his fanpage on facebook here
Like the GPWA page here
Eh….I dunno. Go to the La Cala and stare longingly intae his eyes if you want to take it to the next level of creepy. 

As always, huge thank you to David J Wilson for the images. All credit goes to him and his wonderful talents.