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Date Posted: 22:29:36 06/24/02 Mon
Author: Bruce Grant
Subject: Synthesis

[The scene opens with the image of an empty wrestling ring filling the lens. There are no markings of any kind on any part of the ring. No logotypes on the turnbuckles, no federation name on the apron. Just an empty, nondescript ring.

The camera slowly zooms out, increasing the amount of scenery to be taken in by the viewer. One can now see that this particular ring is installed inside a gym. A rather mediocre gym, at that. Three stationary bikes, Monarchs to be exact flank the left side of the ring, while a set of five heavy bags, hanging from the wall, three on the left, two on the right, purposely staggered in a gauntlet formation fill the right side. Behind the ring are several blue mats, most likely designed to be used for group training of some sort. In front of the ring, three weight machines and a three tiered rack of dumb bells are positioned near a section of ceiling to floor mirrors located on the right side.

The left side provides an entirely different element to the athletic feel of the building. A simple desk, chair, computer and telephone. At the very least, one can easily infer that whoever runs the gym wants to make sure that he is included in every facet of the gymnasium’s operation. As the camera maneuvers itself in front of the desk, giving a clear view of its well-worn mahogany, the camera shows that several objects are hung on the wall. A shelf holds three trophies, each with a figurine depicting a wrestler. Above the shelf are two gold championship belts, one hanging above the other, and these are flanked by gold medals on either side. Above the left medal is a plaque, bearing the insignia of the Boston Police Department. Above all of these pieces, however, is a large banner with the words WRESTLING HALL OF FAME INDUCTEE 1997. However, the most interesting piece of memorabilia on the wall is, oddly enough, also the most plain-looking: A simple blue vest, hung on hook, with a hunter green singlet hanging behind it.

Having apparently finished with the tour of the gym, the camera turns itself once again to the barren, plain ring, and a voice calls out, speaking in an even, calm tone in true Voice of God fashion.]

Voice: One would probably wonder why, if a person who had enough money to run a gymnasium of his or her own, if one was so lucky as to have won all of those awards which you’ve just seen, why wouldn’t they adorn their wrestling ring with pictures of themselves, their name, or at the very least, the name of the gym itself? It’s quite simple, really. There is absolutely no need to assign an identity to something as basic as a wrestling ring inside a small, low traffic neighborhood gym in western Boston. This wrestling ring is meant to prepare young hopefuls for a life in a ring in an arena hundreds of times bigger than this building. It is meant to let them know that one day, if they have the ability and the desire, they will have the opportunity to be in a ring that is littered with fancy logos and slogans and advertisements.

There’s also another, more prevalent reason why I chose not to stitch my name in the apron. This is rock bottom. This is small time. People who are starting out in something need to understand that this is where you start. You do not start out with main event status.

In both of my chosen professions as a twelve year veteran of the Boston Police force’s narcotics division, and as a professional wrestler, I’ve seen dozens of young punks go around thinking that the world, and everyone on it, owes them something. Not because they were incapable of getting things done themselves, but because they didn’t practice or plan well enough.

There’s a reason that some phrases become cliches. They work. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail; the best offense is a good defense; one step ahead of yourself is worse than two steps behind your opponent. Those are all things that I teach my students. And for the most part, it sticks with them.

I knew the day I decided to retire from wrestling that second time, it was because I felt that I had done everything I could do, from a wrestler’s perspective. I had satiated my hunger that was left after Joe Russa and the CWO tore my knee apart. So, I opened up my school and gym. It was the third dream to come true for me in my lifetime. I felt like I was truly blessed. The joy I felt when people first starting flocking to sign up to take lessons from me... I don’t think I can ever full experience that again.

However, as time drew on, my old fans moved on to greater things than hero worship, and I was forgotten. Soon, no one was signing up to learn from me. At first, like any business owner whose suddenly left without clients, and like any teacher who doesn’t have any seats filled in his classes, I was disappointed. But then I looked around, metaphorically. I took stock of my life, and realized that there were still those students who had been with me for years, and they needed, no, even more than that, they wanted my guidance. So I stayed with them, and eventually they graduated. I was happy. I was happy to say that I had a role in sending wrestling in a new direction, by sending in a fresh crop of talent.

Now I had the time to sit back and relax, and observe the small cluster of federations that I had a vested interest in, whether because I was a close friend of some of the talent, a member of the creative board, or a former competitor. At first I was leery when I noticed that the tone of wrestling that had began to take shape when I left, the rebellious, anti-authority attitude that so many were developing at the time, was now par for the wrestling course. I took it in stride, because I believe that all things should have a chance to prove themselves, to prove that they are the next evolutionary step. However, I began to see that what is popular now is not an evolution at all. Rather, it’s a devolution. And I will not stand for it.

However, the fact is, I’m too old. In order to change something, particularly the course of wrestling history, it is important that one of the main catalysts for the change be a member of the current movement. Seeing as how I’m from a different, past age, I won’t do. But one day, I got a phone call from one of my first pupils, and I told him about my ideas, and he told me that he would be glad to help me.

After days of deliberation and investigation, we have decided to start the revolution in the GWA. It seems odd to me that the revolution will start in an organization whose very name is a symbol of ancient times. But in a way, that’s very befitting of my cause.

So, I will now present to you, the man who will lead the revolution of e-wrestling, to a place where all that matters is what you can in the ring, how much spirit you have inside of you... Bruce Grant.

[As soon as the voice quiets, a man steps into view. He is of average height, not quite six feet tall, and has a medium build, probably weighing somewhere between two fifteen and two twenty-five pounds. His short black hair is kept in a flattop style, and his square jaw is cleanly shaven, as is the rest of his face. He is wearing a royal blue t-shirt and a pair of white sweat pants.]

Bruce: I was listening to him talk, and he’s right. Too many people get caught up in trying to be the best right off the bat. I think everyone’s probably guilty of that, at least once. But you’ve got to be able to learn from your mistakes. A lot of people in the GWA, they’ve made a lot of mistakes. And they’ve still got to learn. I’m sure ready to teach them.

[Bruce stops speaking, and then looks to the side of the camera, and gestures with his hand.]

Bruce: I think they’d all like to see who’s behind the camera.

Voice: Well, alright.

[The two men switch places with Bruce taking hold of the camera, and a tall, slender individual, standing six foot three, with medium brown hair comes into view. He’s wearing a dark green polo shirt and beige slacks, with black street shoes.]

Bruce: I present the Technician, the Tactician, the Mongoose, Dr. Rick Melmoore!

Rick: We aren’t all dead yet.

[With that, Bruce swings the camera back to the empty ring. The feed switches suddenly, to a montage of some of Melmoore’s finest highlights, filled with suplexes, toe holds, and piledrivers. Then the feed stops, replaced by a still shot of an all-too forgotten phrase: Prepare to be Enforced!]

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