The Ballance Sheet, Blog XVIII

- originally written July 31st, 2011-

Bumper edition here, covering both June and July’s activities, such as they were…

June was fairly quiet, with just the one bit of wrestling-based action, and a return to Wrestling.IE, in Northern Ireland. I hadn’t wrestled for the promotion for almost a year and, though it wasn’t a show in the traditional sense, it was nice to be back wrestling in Northern Ireland.

The show was more of an exhibition, with four matches being put on display during a “sports day” in Portadown. Across the town, various clubs and associations were doing displays and demonstrations for their particular sport, and we ended up doing our wrestling exhibition alongside the surface car park of the High Street Mall (after marching in the parade, of course, which was pretty mortifying.) It was me, Shawn Maxer (who I travelled with) and Dunkan Disorderly in a round robin—everyone faces everyone—and then finishing off with a triple threat match.

I opened with Dunkan, and enjoyed the match quite a bit in spite of the shit crowd, who were reserved throughout, and weren’t a wrestling audience. Despite the poor atmosphere, we put on a good match, and I was happy with what we did. It’s quite tough wrestling outdoors, though, I have to say, particularly during the summer. It may sound like a ridiculously obvious statement, but if you’re wrestling indoors and it’s warm, once you’ve finished, you can at least go outside, and get some fresh air, and try to cool down. If you’re outdoors already, though, it becomes just that little more difficult to get your breath back, and wind down. (We didn’t have anywhere to go inside, incidentally. We got changed in the back of the ring van, and stayed there between matches. We also made our entrances from the back of the van, like a low budget ‘A-Team.’)

The humidity notwithstanding, we- at the very least- avoided the rain that day, which was lucky. Having been lashed on whilst doing an outdoor show for Irish Whip in 2007, I can assure you that that’s no fun! Especially when the canvas and mats get absolutely soaked through (as illustrated below), and you have another show later that day.. 

Steve the promoter was well prepared, though, and had bought a new vinyl canvas just in case it rained. As someone who doesn’t wear elbowpads- but probably should, since my right elbow’s nicely puffed up with fluid!- I much prefer wrestling on a vinyl mat, rather than canvas; less mat burns that way…

Maxer and I went on third, finishing off the singles matches. (There were just three of us, by the way. Three wrestlers, I should say, and the ref Anto Wylie.) I, again, need to stress how bad the crowd was, and could probably, comfortably say (without hyperbole) that they were possibly the worst crowd I’ve ever worked in front of. We did a nice, fast-paced opening spot that was pretty much spot-on, from a technical point of view, and got nothing from the audience. Not a clap, not a golf clap, not even that finger-clicking thing beatniks do at poetry readings. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Bubkis. It was soul-destroying!

Soul-destroying would’ve been far more preferable to neck-destroying, though, which is what I came close to, once the top rope snapped early into the match. I was, thankfully, only running the ropes ¾ speed; if I’d been hitting them at full speed, it would’ve been game over. (A former IWW trainee of mine- currently wrestling in MSW as ‘Big Bad Hynesie’- suffered a rope snap in training a few years ago, and was very lucky to have landed on the judo mats around the ring.) Aside from that, the match went well, and was enjoyable. The finish had to be improvised due to the rope snap, but it had no major adverse effects.

After a short break, Dunkan, Maxer and I returned to finish off the day’s events with a triple threat. Like the matches that preceded it, the action was good, and the work solid, but the crowd just sat there, despite attempts to ‘rouse them from their apathy. The only notable outburst was from some gobshite smart-ass in the crowd, who thought he was clever, pointing out that I “landed on [Maxer’s] shin-pads” when he gave me a fireman’s carry gutbuster manoeuvre. I took a quick moment from selling the move to growl at him to “shut the fuck up”, and Maxer did likewise, though far more vociferously. The guy kept quiet for the remainder, surprisingly. (Usually, something like that would only egg idiots like that on.)

A few weeks later, I had another impromptu show for Wrestling.IE in Enniskillen, making the trip up after work on Friday afternoon/evening with Joe Cabray, Johnny Notaro, and Kazza Glennon; the latter two, trainees with Dublin-based outfit Main Stage Wrestling, and very sound individuals. Despite unsettled weather—and the ridiculousness of encountering two toll booths on the way up—the trip was grand, and we arrived in good time for the show. I faced Niall Rice in a solid singles match. We’d faced off in a tag match at PWU last December, but this was our first singles, and it went well. After the interval, a big 8 person tag took place. It was messy- quite messy- but such is the nature of those types of matches. Loading the ring back up, after the show, in the lashing rain was about as much fun as it sounds, but it abated by the time we got back on the road to Dublin, ourselves. The crowd for the show was fairly lively, despite the relatively low, but respectable, turnout.

The next weekend, I was back for DCW in Dublin, as they had a double-header. My previous show for them in Artane (May) was disappointing. Overbooked, chaotically-organised, and badly-run, it was disastrous, to be completely frank. Three hours after opening bell, Vic Viper and I were only going out to begin our main event match. The crowd were tired, we were tired, and it was rather aggravating to be starting our match at 10:30pm, especially with a fuckload of post-match shenanigans planned as well, dropped on us a few minutes before we were due to go out. It was a frustrating experience. The difference between that show and the weekend of shows in July, though, was like night and day. Both shows—Ballyfermot and Balbriggan—were organised very well backstage, and ran to a much leaner time. Good progress for the place. I was familiar with both venues, having wrestled there with IWW a few years back.

I’d wrestled twice in Ballyfermot before, having a very well-received singles match with El Ligero in 2008, and another very enjoyable entry in my series with Vic Viper there, in 2009. On this Saturday in July- an absolute scorcher, weather-wise- I teamed up with Anthony Idol to face LA Warren and Andy Phoenix. The lads were very easy to plan with and get on with, and it was a fun match; a lot of fun, actually. This was my first match, incidentally, being accompanied by my new second, Barry. (My evil chimp roommate, who I’d introduced in a previous promo.) Seemed to go down fairly well with the audience.

A former Irish Whip trainee, ‘The Kid’ Keith Connolly- who I had a number of very enjoyable matches with in 2008- also worked the show, and it was cool to see him again, with him rockin’ a radical new haircut. I got home at a reasonable hour, and watched some Curb Your Enthusiasm (which I’m loving at the moment; I was a big Seinfeld fan, and love Curb, as well. Superb stuff.)

The tag was fairly gentle on me, bumps-wise, so I was, thankfully, heading into Balbriggan the next day pretty fresh. The Ballymun Bruiser, Irish Dragon and Danny Deans had a brutal three-way the previous evening, though, so were quite banged-up going into the show. That Sunday was another absolute scorcher of a day, reaching highs of 23’C at times; almost unheard-of, for Irish weather! The trip to Balbriggan was short and sweet—only about 30 mins down the M1—and I was glad to return. Balbriggan is one of my favourite venues. I’ve had some really, really enjoyable matches there, with the likes of Pac, Bam Katraz, Red Vinny, Vic Viper, The Hornet, Kid Fite, and Brother Skelly, amongst others; superstitious, perhaps, but some venues just bring a bit of luck with them, and Balbriggan’s been lucky for me.

I worked a singles match with Andy Phoenix, and it was really good. Everything went to plan, additional stuff added in worked nicely, and the crowd were into it. Couldn’t ask for more. I was very happy with it- very happy indeed- and Andy was great to work with. My happiness was amplified when I managed to sell a nice bit of merch during the interval, and make some cash money. (Jeah!) Along with that, I managed to procure myself a 99 (an ice cream cone with a Cadbury’s Flake stuffed into it) after the match, not exactly typifying my 26 years of age! It was a great cone, though, for the warm day that was in it.

Bam Katraz made his return later on the show in a great match with Pierre Marceau. Bam took his time with the return (from a 2-3 year absence), putting in a lot of effort training since the start of this year. He was a frequent training partner for me and Seán South, and it’s a credit to him that he takes enough pride in his work that he spent time going back through everything before getting back in the ring. Definitely commendable. The match was a reflection of that, and he and Pierre had a very entertaining bout.

That was that for July. A very enjoyable weekend, I have to say, and a pair of great matches. I’m back for DCW next month, in a rematch with Andy Phoenix; looking forward to trying to top the last match!

That’s that for the moment. Two minor things before I wrap this up. One for my Formspring page. If you have anything you wanna know (within reason), post your question (anonymously if you wish) here: http://www.formspring.me/BingoBallance. Secondly, please feel free to recommend this page to anyone you know. Not too far away from the ol’ 300 likes yet, so that’s the next milestone! Thanks, guys.

‘Til next time.
Ballance

The Ballance Sheet, Blog XVII

- originally written June 3rd, 2011-

Take THAT, writer's block! Jeah..
The rather illustrious seventeenth instalment of this self-serving rubbish! So, what did May have on tap, as it were? (Look at me trying to be hip! I’m not. Not even a little bit. Just to… just to get that clear.) Anyway…

Training continued during the month of May, as I took classes in DCW’s school, on the outskirts of Dublin city centre. Unfortunately, due to underwhelming attendance and interest, the plug had to be pulled, which is a shame. Right call, though. No point haemorrhaging money over time. The thing with this country is that there are a number of good facilities out there and, to be honest, not a great deal of demand right now for guys looking to start wrestling. Most memorable, I think, during the short time I was there was the progress made by a trainee called Nina, who was probably the most frequently-attending trainee in the place. It took a little while for her to get the hang of things, but her perseverance and determination to get better really stood to her and, by the time things wrapped up, she was making some nice progress. Just a shame the place closed when it did.

My first bit of in-ring action during the month took place in Artane, not far from where I live. I had helped book the venue a few months before, so was interested to see what sort of a crowd DCW had drawn for it. This would be my first appearance for them in two months, as I had missed their ‘Mania’ and ‘Aftermath’ shows, due to prior bookings I had in the UK.

As I’ve absolutely HAMMERED home repeatedly in previous blogs, I’d gotten used to not wrestling in Ireland, so ‘show days’ for me had become synonymous with heading off to the Airport, and going through the whole rigmarole of air travel. Wrestling with DCW, though, obviously comes with the benefit of not having to go far from home, so it was nice to have a show day, while still getting a much-needed lie-on in bed that morning! I actually spent the morning of the Artane show in bed, watching Family Guy! (The “..And Then There Were Fewer” murder-mystery episode; a darned good one! The Patrick Stewart talking cat, in particular, gave me a good chuckle!)

I spent a few hours before the show hanging with Bam Katraz, a guy who’s been a friend of mine for a good few years. As well as being a friend, I would definitely count Bam as one of my favourite ‘opponents’. We’ve had four singles matches together, and I genuinely feel that they’re all distinct, quality bouts, as it were. Bam, himself, has been working hard towards getting back into wrestling this year, and that’s been great to see. Rather than rushing back into things half-assed, he’s held off patiently until he could return, and put forward the best version of himself as possible; something I respect a great deal. (Bam and Seán South are the two guys I would regularly spar/train with and, though we’ve different styles, I think our approach to wrestling would be similar, as would be our attitudes towards training, and its importance in trying to stay as sharp as possible.) Anyway, long story short, Bam & I hung out for a while before heading to the show, shooting the proverbial shit, and so forth, and it was enjoyable and relaxing.

The show itself was grand, drew a decent crowd for the night that was in it, and generated a nice atmosphere. Only problem was it went a bit long, and by the time my match came around, the show had been running three hours, and it was 10:30. I worked Vic in the main event, and enjoyed it. I always like working with Vic.

I had imagined that my feud with his faction (The Family Against Sinners) would have continued over the next few shows, in light of the kidnapping angle that had been used to explain my absence for two months, but it was decided that the feud would be dropped, and I’d work with Andy Phoenix on the next show, on foot of him hitting me with a briefcase after the match. While I warmly welcome the opportunity to work with Andy- and anyone I haven’t worked before, in general- I will admit to being a little disappointed that the Family angle was dropped so quickly, as I truly felt it had a lot of mileage left in it.

I don’t know how best to describe my thought process behind it, but I cut a promo shortly after the Artane show, here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hz1nBdDge48 . Genuinely, I think it’s the best promo I’ve ever cut. Not that that’s saying much—I’ve no delusions that I’m a great promo guy. That said, it’s the most comfortable I’ve ever felt delivering one, and I think that comes across in it. (I imagine the acting classes I’ve taken over the last few years have helped contribute to that.)

Promos are an interesting animal—some people love ‘em, some hate ‘em. For the longest time, I would’ve been in the latter camp. I hated them passionately, and hated watching my promos. I wasn’t comfortable in my skin- as the expression goes- wasn’t sure who my character truly was, and they were just awkward, and clichéd. The promos I cut for Whiplash were godawful, and cringeworthy, and most of the ones I cut weren’t used. (Thankfully!) Worst of all, they SOUNDED like someone cutting a promo, if you get me…? As a trainer, I never taught promos or, at least, not regularly. I could watch guys cut them, and give feedback on body language, delivery, cadence, and so forth, but I didn’t feel that I could teach someone how to speak, or get their character across. That was something inherently personal to them, and it was up to them to try and let their character out. From my own standpoint, I favour promos that have a ‘natural’ feel to them; where you feel the speaker IS their character, as opposed to someone PLAYING a character. I know that’s a very, very fine line, but it’s a distinction that I feel often takes a promo to the next level. (Forgive the preachy tone—again, I have no claims to being any sort of promo wizard; I’m not. This is just my own preference regarding the types of promos that catch my attention, and leave an impression.)

For the promo above, as I say, I just felt it; felt comfortable enough to let my character, and my own personal traits and so forth, come out. I’ve felt it before during live, in-ring promos, as I have an audience to work off of, and I like to have a bit of fun with them. Regular ‘camera’ promos, though, were never my forte, particularly with people watching. I always found that it distracted me, and just took me out of the mindset and zone I needed to get into.

Outside wrestling, I’m fairly introverted. Unless I know people especially well, I keep to myself—this may be interpreted by people as me being standoffish or arrogant or a dickhead, but I’m just a quiet person, to be honest. As a result, stuff like promos- and even making a decent, attention-grabbing entrance- were foreign. They were unnatural to me. An expression I heard during my stint doing drama intrigued me: “If you can’t feel it, fake it.” For ages, I’d faked it. I’d sorta feel the excitement of going out there in front of a crowd, but it was just me PLAYING “Bingo Ballance.” This year, though, I’ve felt more like I AM “Bingo Ballance” when I go out there, and I actually AM “feeling it” now. It’s only taken about five and a half bloody years! What’s taken so long? Heh heh! I guess the point I’m trying to make- eventually- is that if you’re comfortable in yourself, that comes across, and I think my gradually arriving at a point of comfort in myself, and in my character, has taken me to the point of no longer hating promos, but actually welcoming the opportunity to allow my character to develop.

Wow. That was… incredibly long-winded! Anyway, let’s move on…

Less than a week after DCW in Artane, I had my second show of the month, over in the UK. I flew over to Newcastle on a Friday morning. This was my third time flying over to Newcastle (after two trips to IWF last year), and the third rowdy, and irritating flight! Every time—EVERY time—I’ve gone over to Newcastle, there’s been either a stag party or a hen party, or a group of rambunctious fellow passengers who feel the need to absolutely BELLOW across to each other through the entire flight. At that hour of the morning—as all the flights have been morning ones—that level of volume is really unwelcome, and downright inconsiderate. “Hell is other people” is the expression, I believe!

The trip over to Newcastle, itself, though, was a very enjoyable one, as I débuted for the North East Wrestling Society (or “NEWS.”) The NEWS setup is very impressive, and the promoter Paul really has his head screwed on, which is hugely refreshing. As well as being sensible, and smart with his resources, he’s a nice guy, and I enjoyed dealing with him. Definitely one of the better promoters I’ve encountered in quite a while.

I opened the show in a three-way with Pac, and Lowthian (the ‘Tyneside Titan’- a brilliant moniker.) I’ve worked with Pac a few times down through the years. Along with facing off with him in the finals of the Irish Whip Zero Gravity tournament in 2007, he was the first ‘outside talent’ I worked with early in my career, back in 2006. In fact, a TV match we had- which opened the second season of IWW’s Whiplash programme- helped launch my singles run, and I’d regard it as my first ‘breakout’ match. (At that point, plans had been in place for me to be a ‘jobber’ during the series, but the audience reaction that night, along with the quality of the match itself, changed the plans a little bit, and I was given more to do on the tapings, and more of a role in the Zero Gravity division, which I was delighted with.)

Pac, along with being an exceptionally nice, down-to-earth guy, is excellent to work with, and I’ve enjoyed the matches we’ve had over the years, and feel we’ve good chemistry together. I hadn’t worked with Lowthian before, but he was great to work with as well, and has a terrific look and presence, in addition to very solid and impressive ring work for the amazingly short amount of time he’s working. (Lowthian’s manager, Julian Werther-Chambers, was also a very sound guy, and I enjoyed chatting to him while I was over. He, in turn, enjoyed putting the boots to me, as I lay on the outside, during the match…!) The match itself was very enjoyable, and I think came off nicely. The crowd of (I think) close to 200 people seemed into it, too, which was cool.

I had an early flight back from Newcastle Airport the following morning, so had booked into a B&B near the Airport, in Ponteland. (“Pon-tee-land.”) The show was in Peterlee, in Durham, a good half-hour from the Airport, so Pac very kindly gave me a lift there once we’d finished our match. I hadn’t seen him in about four years, so it was good catching up with him, and chatting to him and his friend Natalie, who was also very nice.

I stayed in the Stonehaven Lodge, a ten minute walk from the Airport. A comfortable stay, definitely, though the proprietors were a little bit… I dunno. A tiny bit “off”, I guess. That said, it had little bearing on the rest of the evening. The earlier-than-usual departure from the show allowed for a nice few hours’ relaxation, stuffing my face with a pizza pie from Papa John’s, (that we’d gotten on the way), and watching episodes of Seinfeld on my portable DVD. Great stuff, and definitely needed after a long week of work thrown into the bargain.

Not so great was my night’s sleep, which was interrupted rudely by the people in the room next to me, who got in from a Take That pop concert after midnight, and were very loud. It didn’t help that the walls were paper thin, either—you could’ve talked them into coming down! My namesake Mr Barlow can advise one to “have a little patience”, but it’s quite difficult to, at that hour… At any rate, I drifted back off into a peaceful slumber after a little while, was up in good time for my flight the next morning, and got back home to Dublin with minimal hassle. (I would generally have one or two songs that I might play a few times on my iPod on certain trips. For some reason, I might just be in the humour to hear one particular track a few times. For this trip, anyway, Howie Day’s The Longest Night was that song, and had me suitably mellowed. Link for those interested: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EiqUXVmKfrQ) All in all, a very enjoyable trip.

And now, we move onto the non-wrestling portion of things… Picked up Family Guy Season 10 during May, and enjoyed it a lot. Of particular note were episodes like “And Then There Were Fewer”, “Brian and Stewie” (which started on a rather revolting, gross-out note, but moved onto something surprisingly deep and poignant for FG), “Brian’s House of Payne”, and “Quagmire’s Dad” (including Brian’s hilarious reaction to hearing some unpleasant news)… Along with Family Guy, I re-watched the fantastic Seinfeld (as mentioned earlier), and finished off the second season of Lie to Me, which I enjoyed a lot… I saw Insidious during May, a film which has really divided audience opinions. Personally, I thought it was excellent, and legitimately one of the creepiest, most suspenseful horror films I’ve ever seen. The “explanation” halfway through the film is make-or-break; you either like it, buy into it, and continue on invested in it, or you think it’s bullshit. I liked it, personally, and thought it was an interesting direction to go in… The state visits of Queen Elizabeth II and Barack Obama to Ireland were very well-conducted, in my view, and I was pleased to see that both went off without a hitch, particularly the Queen’s visit, which had the potential of being a political powder keg, but turned out fine. Her speaking a little bit of an Irish was a very classy move, I felt. Though large sections of Dublin were closed to accommodate the visits, I was largely unaffected, luckily…

That’s it for May and, as always, thanks for reading, guys. ‘Til next time, take care.
- Ballance

The Ballance Sheet, Blog XVI

- originally written May 1st, 2011-

Sweet sixteen for this bad boy. (The blog. Not me. It’s been a good ten years since I was sixteen…) Anyway, let’s get down to business: April. Brace yourself: this is a long one. (Giggity.)

The first weekend in April, I headed over for DPW’s 3 Years Old show. (This was my second weekend on-the-trot flying over for a show; the previous one I had worked for SSW, in Scotland.) I should’ve gotten a better sleep the night before, but I stupidly decided to start watching My Soul to Take (the Wes Craven horror film) and ended up finishing it, and only getting a few hours’ rest. I’m a silly, stupid, foolish man, so I am!

Though DPW’s show was in Pontefract, and I usually fly into Leeds for them, flight costs were fairly high that weekend, so I flew into Manchester, instead. I was out at the Airport around 5am, which was as fun as it sounds, and got my flight at 6:30… I had a few hours to kill before I could check into the Travelodge near the Airport, so got a bit of breakfast, read the Irish Independent newspaper cover-to-cover, and watched a few episodes of Extras on the portable DVD. (Including the Sir Ian McKellen one, which is superb.) Around 12 noon, I got to check into the Travelodge.


Though they call it “Travelodge Manchester Airport”, it’s really not that close to the Airport. The one near Leeds Bradford Airport is literally within walking distance; this one, however, was a 5-10 minute drive away, so it involved getting Travelodge’s £5 “airport shuttle”. (A taxi with a surly prick for a driver.) Staff at the hotel were unhelpful and didn’t give a fuck - particularly when I tried to arrange a “shuttle” back to the Airport for early the following morning. The room was adequate, and did the job, though, I guess, and I at least got to spend about 90 minutes in it before I had to leave again to head on to the show.

Like SSW the week before, the journey involved an almost-labrynthine series of connecting trains to get to my final destination. I headed from Manchester Airport to Huddersfield, from Huddersfield to Wakefield Kirkgate, and from Wakefield Kirkgate to Pontefract Monkhill, then walked to the venue- Pontefract Town Hall- which took a little while to find. That said, I arrived with about an hour and a half before doors, and whiled away the remaining time until the show began.

I was in a tag match—the tag title tournament finals, actually—teaming with El Ligero to face Martin Kirby and Mad Man Manson. It came off very nicely, and was received very well by the fans in attendance—well, most, apart from these two fucktards in the front row; y’know, the typical “smart marks” who try to get themselves over by starting “witty” chants? Them. Them aside, anyhow, the match was a nice blend of comedy—which I wouldn’t be completely au fait with, as I wouldn’t do comedic spots very often; a welcome change, actually, doing them—and fast-paced (or slow motion, in some cases) action! It was a fun match, and Ligero, Manson and Kirby were excellent, as always, and cool to work with.

Like SSW the previous week, again, I had to leave pretty much straight after the match, to catch my train back to Manchester Airport. Ricc the ref, who did a great job in our match again, very kindly gave me a lift to Leeds train station, and I made the train in good time. This time around, it was Leeds to Manchester Piccadilly, and Manchester Piccadilly to Manchester Airport. The adrenaline from the match wore off during the final leg of the journey, and I crashed! Pretty knackered at that stage. I headed back to my room at the Travelodge, had a well-needed shower, and got a few hours’ sleep before heading back to the Airport for my flight home to Dublin, the following morning.

The next weekend saw the launch of the DCW Training School, in Dublin. Though I’ve had seminars for the likes of DPW, SPWA and WrestleZone (amongst others) in the last few years, it had been about two-and-a-half years since I’d been a full-time trainer, when the IWW School wrapped up in the autumn of 2008. I was looking forward to getting back into it. I took the opening class of the launch weekend, and was impressed by the effort put in by the trainees there. I’ve since taken about two or three classes; attendance has not been overwhelming for my own classes thus far, but I hope it’ll be onwards and upwards from here. We’ll see… It’s nice to be back training, anyway, and to have my friends Bam Katraz, The Ballymun Bruiser and Vic Viper, as co-Trainers, in the School. If you want more info on the School, see the Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=100002234918108 (Shameless plug!)

On a partially wrestling-related note, I completed another acting/drama course in mid-April. Beginning in February, I had ten weeks with the Abbey School of Drama, doing their Scene Study course, which involved going over acting and improvisation techniques, and learning the lines for a scene which would be performed publicly at the end of the course. Due to an odd number of people in the course, someone had to do two scenes on the night, and that person was your humble narrator. I had to learn the lines for the two scenes—as there would be no scripts on the night—and arrange to meet both of my ‘scene partners’ over the course of the… well, of the course- heh heh- to go over the scenes, and get the rhythm and timing perfected, as much as possible. Initially, I was a little overwhelmed at the idea of having to learn two sets of lines, but I got them down, thanks to some help from The Ballymun Bruiser, Seán South, my work mate Ger, and ‘the missus’, who all ran the lines with me at some point.

The performance night was on Monday, the 18th. I headed to the theatre straight from work, went over the scenes a few times with my partners again, and before I knew it, the “house was open”, as they say, and the public had been let in. (The public were, mainly, friends and family of the “players”.) The night was set out as a sort of anthology, in a way, in that four different scenes were being played out. I was on second, and fourth/last. I rarely get nervous before matches anymore, but I was absolutely bricking it, as it were, before my first scene! I’d learned the lines and gotten them down, but I kept thinking I was just gonna blank out there, and forget everything. The first scene ended, though, and it was time for me to be “Ray” in our version of Joe Penhall’s Some Voices.

Once I got out there, my memory recall kicked in, and I just felt the lines flowing; the scene came off nicely. Sabrina, my Italian scene partner- playing the part of Laura- did a great job too. We finished, took our bow, and headed backstage, where I had to hastily change from a tracksuit (Ray was a bit of a working-class scumbag) into a suit, for my second scene. Revisiting a character I’d played in my last Scene Study course, I was playing Vinnie in Sam Shepard’s Simpatico. The third scene wrapped up, then I was out with my other partner, Cassandra, to perform the Simpatico scene. Having had the chance to warm up with Some Voices, I felt very comfortable with Simpatico, and was happy with how it turned out. Where my first scene with Sabrina was semi-comedic in tone, this one was bristling with tension and drama, and was a nice contrast. (For anyone who cares enough to look up the scenes performed, they were Act 1, Scene Six of Some Voices, by Joe Penhall, and Act 3, Scene One of Simpatico by Sam Shepard.) After a short interval, the second half of the show focused on improvisation, and was a lot of fun, just going on-the-fly, and acting out scenarios that were completely off-the-cuff. The course was great fun again, and I think the experience of doing acting, however small-scale, has managed to add another dimension to my wrestling performance, in a way. A very rewarding experience.

My mate- and fellow Irishman- Seán South recently asked me the interesting question of whether I preferred travelling alone or with people to foreign shows. He & I both head abroad a fair bit, so we occasionally swap stories, experiences and so forth. In actuality, travelling with folk hasn’t been an issue for a while—the last time I headed abroad to a show with anyone was April 2009, when I headed to Osnabrueck, in Germany, with JC Williams. (I also headed home from a show with Southy, himself, a little over a year ago, when we both wrestled for PBW, in Barrhead.) It’s been a while, anyway, is the crux of the matter! In a way, I’ve gotten used to the regimented nature of the travel. I neither like nor hate it. It is what it is, and I’m completely neutral to it. I usually bring enough stuff to entertain myself, be it an iPod, portable DVD, book, or what have you, so it’s fine. I’ve gotten used to travelling on my own, and really don’t mind it. For my final show of April, though, I would have some company, in the form of Brother Skelly.

Skelly & I go back about five years. I helped train the young maestro over the course of his time in Irish Whip and was- and am- very proud of how he’s developed, and the work he’s put in. At the Zero Gravity show in January 2007, he & I had a match, in the quarter finals of the tournament; it was his first high-profile singles match, to my recollection, and was my first singles match with someone I’d trained. I was really happy with it and, from a sentimental point of view, is one of the matches I look back most fondly on. We’ve had matches since then that I’ve enjoyed very much, as well, and tagged once a few years ago. Coincidentally, we both ended up on the same show for TAW at the end of April, so we elected to travel over together. For the sake of ease and so forth, as I live about ten minutes from the Airport, he stayed over in my place the night before—my Castillo de la Muerte, as it were. (Roughly translated as “castle of the dead”; a somewhat inaccurate title for the premises. It’s more of a duplex than a castle.)

(Me vs Skelly, from 2007)


The whole journey was, genuinely, more enjoyable with someone to head over with, and kill time with, and I was glad for the company, however much I tortured poor Skelly with my bad jokes. (“What’s a shih tzu? …….. A zoo with no animals.”) I pushed him for a high five for it until he eventually provided it just to shut me up (and hopefully put an end to the awful jokes!) If you’re reading this, man, my sincerest apologies…

TAW’s Samson very kindly met us at Luton Airport, picked us up, and we all headed to his training place. Along with catching up with him on the way, I caught up with Blue Lightning (who I teamed with last time—see Blog IX) and Sam Steel, and after a while, Lewis Cooper showed up. I’d become mates with Lewis since the last time I was over, and he, Skelly and I hung out in the MK Centre for a while “having de craic”, as it were. Lewis mocked/paid homage to our Irishness—it’s a fine line!—but he was outnumbered on this occasion! (Well, until Sam Steel, and Lewis’ mate Brendan showed up…) Skelly & I DID manage to teach him a bit of Irish, though: An Capall Dubh (“On cop-al dove”), and An Cloigín Gorm (“On cligeen gur-um”). Both of these are stops on the Irish LUAS tram system which runs through Dublin. An Capall Dubh is “Black Horse”, and An Cloigín Gorm is “Bluebell.”

The show—TAW No Limits—was on in Dunstable Leisure Centre, and the backstage area was terrific, in a very spacious and comfortable dance studio. I was teaming with Skelly to take on Shane Summers and Jet Valentine (who I faced last time when I teamed with Blue Lightning.) Having seen the match back since, I have to say I was very happy with how it turned out, and the flow of it. The only lacking element was the crowd, who were quite subdued, despite my best efforts to get chants for Skelly going while he was in peril! Shane and Jet were great to work with again (and took my unusual signature moves fantastically) and it was a lot of fun teaming with Skelly.

The show- and the TAW experience, in general- was, once again, very enjoyable. Really nice bunch of lads, and very easy to get on with. Always cool when people make you feel welcome, and put you at ease. If any of ye are reading this, lads, thanks. Post-show, Skelly headed off with family to London, and I stayed with Samson who, very nicely, put me up in his place again, and dropped me back to the Airport in Luton for my early flight home to Dublin. Gentleman.

At the time of him asking, I told Southy that I preferred travelling on my own. I’m not certain now. I guess it depends who’s with you, but it was nice having a bit of company for the TAW trip.

And, in the “random stuff from April” section…. I saw- and loved- Scream 4. Definitely worth the wait. As a fan of the series, I thought it was an excellent film. It was a little bit lacking in characterisation, but that aside, I thought it was a very clever movie, suitably tense, and just fun. So good, I saw it three times, and it’s very rare I’d go to see the same film more than once… There were a load of kids on the flight Skelly & I got to Luton and yet, amazingly, there wasn’t a peep out of them. They were really well-behaved, and didn’t cause any disruption. I was very impressed, especially in an age where I’ve become used to seeing lazy parents letting their kids run around restaurants disturbing other diners. That’s one of my pet peeves... I set up a Formspring account recently, so if any of ye have any questions, please feel free to post them. I believe you can post anonymously. http://www.formspring.me/BingoBallance


This is truly a blog of Michael Bay proportions—akin to Transformers 2, which was WAY too long, and could’ve done with a good working over with the editing scissors—so I shall wrap here. Thanks for reading, guys. Until next time, take care.

Ballance

The Ballance Sheet, Blog XV

- originally written April 10th, 2011 -

Forgive the rather delayed nature of this blog, folks, but I really hit a wall in terms of what I wanted to stick in. Probably the worst case of writer’s block I’ve had since starting these things last year. No idea why. I’d generally just stick to a synopsis of the shows I’ve done in a month, and other random bullshit; March, however, proved to be a difficult month to write about, for some reason. As I say, I’m completely non-plussed as to why, but whatever. Let’s get cracking, anyway…

Show-wise, March opened with my second visit to DCW; Dublin Championship Wrestling. For a while, I was a little reticent about wrestling in Ireland again regularly, I have to admit, but it’s nice to be working here again. There are some very sound people, and I manage to avoid the travel involved with going abroad for shows. I don’t mind the travel too much, to be honest, but it’s just the little things that tend to irk over time, particularly with air travel. For example, I HATE- with a passion- when you’re boarding a plane, and the person in front moves forward only a few rows, then spends a ridiculous amount of time standing in the aisle trying to negotiate their bags into the overhead lockers, holding up everyone behind. I’m also sick to death of Eine Kleine fucking Nachtmusik, the Mozart piece which Ryanair pump out on every one of their flights. Would it kill them to mix things up, and play something else? Would it?!! (Seriously, would it? I’m not exactly expert on stuff like this.)


Anyway, DCW’s March show was taking place in the Green Isle Hotel, in Dublin, and was entitled ‘Championship Chase’; the winner of an eight-man tournament would face the winner of the DCW Rumble (Irish Dragon) at the next show in April. The Green Isle was a nice place but, unfortunately, not really ideal for a wrestling show, in terms of roof height. John Jennings, one of the other wrestlers on the show, split his head open rather nastily, during the third match, when he banged it off one of the ceiling fixtures. Luckily he was ok after. Just a nasty cut.

Things went fairly down to the wire before the show began, actually. The ropes used for the show last month- and since DCW began- were being replaced with cable ropes, which Vic Viper had made. The cables were measured, cut, wrapped in hose piping and foam, and just had to be covered in electrical tape to hold it all together and provide the right aesthetic look. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough tape to properly cover all the ropes, so a mad dash to Homebase was needed! Door time was coming ever closer, and the ropes still hadn’t been done- there was much hand-wringing and collar-tugging, I can assure you! Door time was 5:30pm, and the tape arrived with about fifteen minutes to spare! Everyone on the show grabbed a roll, and got taping as quickly as possible. As I say, it got very close, but the ropes were done just in time for the show!

I opened the show, in a tournament quarter final match with Tucker. I’d met Tucker a few times before, on trips up north- and liked him- but we’d never worked together prior to this. It was an enjoyable experience and, though we had the difficult task of opening the show with a face-vs-face match, we had a pretty solid one, and got the crowd into it. I was rocking my new baby blue gear, and have to say I think it’s definitely one of my favourite pairs in the collection. Great work again from AWP, my Aussie gear suppliers. Very nice people.

I chilled backstage once we were done, and chatted awhile with some of the lads. It was nice catching up with Jennidee, too, who I hadn’t seen for quite a while. I’d be facing Vic in the semis, and talked with him once he’d finished his bloodbath of a match with John Jennings! Vic and I have worked together plenty of times, and I’ve had some very enjoyable matches with him down through the years, so putting together a match was a piece of piss. (Irish slang for "easy". Don't ask..) His manager Gerry Soul- or “Father Soul”, as he goes by now- had a few spots to remember, as well, but he’s a smart guy, knows his shit, and got them instantly. I’ve worked matches with valets/managers in the past, where the person would have, maybe, one spot to remember, but would still manage to mess it up; not the case with Gerry. He was perfectly in position when needed, and did a great job.

A bit of a ruckus was caused earlier in the show by some visiting British wrestlers, the Dunne Brothers and Ryan Smile, when they tore up the Irish flag for heat. It caused quite a bit of offense and anger, and the show’s MC ended up apologising for it during the intermission. I found it quite surprising that it caused such a furore. To be honest, I was offended not so much as an Irishman, but more as a worker, as it was a very lazy way of getting heat! Heh heh.

I had my match with Vic after intermission, and was happy with it. Unfortunately, we had to truncate the ending a little bit, so the match got a little cut off just as we were building to the finish. That was intended, though, as it was leading into an angle. I nailed Vic with a Codebreaker, and he rolled off to the outside. I dove onto him with my Superman plancha, but before I could capitalise, members of his faction (the Family Against Sinners) came out, and dragged me to the back, ‘kidnapping’ me. Unfortunately, rather than allow himself to be distracted by Vic, or Father Soul, the ref watched the whole thing, and just counted me out, so it came across as very hokey. Ah well. Shit happens. The kidnapping thing was developed to cover for the fact I’d be missing the next two DCW shows in April- as I’d committed to bookings for DPW and TAW- and hopefully, to give me a nice little angle to work with from May.

Post-show, I chatted to Brother Skelly for a while- a friend and former trainee of mine- and then headed on home, picking up a pizza pie on the way. (A ‘Buffalo’ from Apache Pizza: ham, chicken, pepperoni and bacon. Nice!) Enjoyable day. My next show for DCW is in my neck-of-the-woods next month, in the Artane/Beaumont Family Rec Centre. It’s a very nice place; hopefully, it’ll get a decent turnout on the night.

Before my second show of the month, for SSW in Scotland, I went to get my neck checked out. I’ve very luckily never had a serious injury so far- touch wood!- but I’ve had a bunch of niggling little things that have bugged me for a while, and my neck’s been one of them. It’s annoyed me on and off for a few years, but since a show in February of this year, it’s been stiff, and uncomfortable. If it were anything else, I’d have left it to heal itself- a process I’ve found successful with other previous niggles- but neck/spine stuff is serious business, so I thought it best to get it looked at, in case anything was messed up with it. Things came to a head when I was training with Skelly one evening; he gave me a standard (and perfectly safe) suplex variation on a crashmat, and I struggled to get back up. I was genuinely in a bad way. It was ridiculous. The following Tuesday, I headed to a physio. I was given the all-clear in terms of bone/disc damage, but the ol’ trap muscles around my neck were very tense, and getting worn down from being in an almost constant state of spasm. I was told there was nothing that could be done, really, apart from treating them with heat if it was bad. Disheartening to know this would recur, but at least it’s not that serious. Could be worse…

At the end of March, I headed over for SSW (Scottish School of Wrestling). I was over for them three times last year, but this was my first trip of 2011. I flew into Glasgow Prestwick fairly early, and got breakfast at the airport there. As I was chowing down, as it were, I got a call from Dave Power (of DCW) offering me a Trainer’s position in the new DCW training school he was opening. This sounded good to me, so I accepted. More on that later… I checked into a B&B near the Airport around 12:30, relaxed for just under an hour, then headed to Ayr train station, to begin my journey to Whitburn. I got a train from Ayr to Glasgow Central, walked to Glasgow Queen Street- which wasn’t signed very well, to be honest- and waited briefly before getting a connecting train to Bathgate. From Bathgate, I headed to Whitburn Academy, where I thought the show was on. (As the ‘Muscle ‘n’ Mayhem show I’d done for SSW last year had been there.) Alas, it was not. The venue was the Whitburn Legion- a pub/social club- a short 10-15 min walk from there. I made that journey, and eventually arrived, fairly tired from a day’s travel. (I was amused to discover, actually, that another guy advertised for the show wouldn’t be appearing as he expected door-to-door transport from where he was to the venue. Heh heh. He’ll go far…)

I was on second, I think, with G.I. Joe, a very nice guy who does an army gimmick, with a few masked commandoes (or ‘privates’) at his side. Joe was good to work with, the match went well, and the crowd got into it, suitably. They certainly didn’t appreciate his tainted victory, hitting me in the head with a spanner, as the ref’s attention was diverted! I also took part in a twelve-man tag match that closed the show.

I had the first leg of my train journey back uncomfortably close to the end of the show, but just finished up my part in the match, rushed backstage, took off my wrestling pants and kickpad covers, and threw on a T-shirt and jeans. A very kind lady named Jenny ran me back up to Bathgate train station, leaving me with ten minutes to relax- and take off my kickpads and kneepads!- before the train arrived. Not the first time I’ve gone to/from a show in gear. I’m sure every worker has experienced that at some point. Back in 2007, I caught a train straight from work on a Friday evening to Waterford, where there was an IWW show on, in the Forum. (The Forum was an awesome venue, incidentally, back in the day.) Anyway, once I arrived, it would be after doors had opened, so as we approached Waterford on the train, I changed into my gear. The carriage was fairly empty, so it wasn’t some smutty peep show! Got a few looks for being the guy walking through the streets of Waterford in the bright silver pants, but what can you do? Heh heh.

The train journeys back allowed me the first time in the day to genuinely unwind, and just chill. On the way to the show, I was thinking of stuff for the match, along with ensuring I got the right connections, and so forth. On the way back, I could just relax, and had on Extras, on my portable DVD. (Damn good series.) Finally got a chance to get a decent bite to eat, once I got back into Glasgow, and was going from Queen St. to Central. Stopped off for a nice chicken pizziola in Subway, and polished that off before the final leg of my journey, back to Ayr. (I think I mentioned it in an earlier blog, but I generally don’t like to eat that much the day of a show, preferring instead to wait ‘til afterwards. Everyone has their weird rituals.) The walk back from Ayr to my B&B wasn’t fun. I’d gotten a dead leg during my match with Joe, as he’d accidentally landed on it when I was giving him my B-84 move. (The swingy X-Factor thingamajig.) A few weeks previous, I’d gotten a knock on that leg during a game of football. It had since healed up, but this set it back again! This year has been a collection of silly knocks and niggling injuries—stupid body! Heh heh. Eventually got back to my B&B, and managed to get, I think, four or five hours’ sleep before I was up again for my flight home to Dublin, which was alright except for a loud stag party screaming and shouting, and generally showing no consideration for anyone else on the flight. Eurgh.

Anyway, that was it for shows but, as I mentioned earlier, I accepted the Trainer position with DCW. I’ve since taken my first class with the School, and it was quite encouraging. I got a lot from training in IWW for three years, and I’m looking forward to teaching a new group of guys and girls, and showing them the ropes, figuratively speaking!

Other random crap: really looking forward to Scream 4, which is out at the end of next week. I’m quite a fan of the series, and have been impressed by what I’ve seen of it thus far. Hope it delivers… I finished off Dollhouse in March, and was very impressed by it. Shame the networks in the US didn’t warm to it, but I think it told its story well in the two seasons it was on. I’ve now moved on to Season 2 of Lie to Me, which I’m liking so far, and will probably watch Firefly after that. (That was Joss Whedon’s other series that got cut down in its prime, apparently)… Had the ‘pleasure’ of witnessing a woman squatting down and going to the bathroom in a phone box recently. Really quite charming. Great visual for Irish tourism, I’m sure you’d agree… Wes Craven’s latest effort- My Soul to Take- got a critical panning in the US. I saw it recently, myself, and thought it was pretty good. A little bit incoherent, but mainly good, and well-acted. I liked it, personally, but to each their own…

That’s it for the moment, guys. Thanks for reading, as always. Hoping there won’t be as long a gap between this blog and the next. Until then, take care.

- Ballance

The Ballance Sheet, Blog XIV

- originally written Feb 26th, 2011-

Boo-ya! February. Let’s get down to business. Down to eh- what’s it they say?- down to “brass tacks”, as it were. Plastic tacks would be too frivolous, I suppose. It’s the brass ones we’ll be wanting. Yes, brass tacks.

Not plastic.

Anyway. Moving on.

Show-wise, February kicked off with my first trip of the year to Scotland, and back to Aberdeen- the Granite City- for WrestleZone. They were running a show in the Liquid nightclub in Aberdeen city centre and- interestingly- it was gonna be an over 18s one. The flight over was grand, via Ryanair; early on the Saturday morning, but not that early. WZ guys Bill, and Bryan Tucker picked me up, and we headed to Liquid around one, or thereabouts.

The last show I did in a nightclub was for German promotion Alpha Pro Wrestling at the beginning of last year; the roof was fairly low, and the place a bit cramped. Amazingly, though, that itself paled in comparison to a place I wrestled in with IwW in 2009. It was a hotel in Birr, Co. Offaly. The two-and-a-half hour trip into the Irish midlands (up into the mountains) was disconcerting enough, but to arrive and find that I could touch the roof while just standing in the ring- and I’m all of 5’9”!- was something else entirely. It amazes me the lack of scouting people do for venues sometimes! That said, Liquid was a perfect venue: loads of roof height, plenty of floor space, a spacious changing area, and easy access to get the ring in and out with relative ease. All the boxes were ticked.

Pre-show, I did another training seminar with the WZ lads, including a few new faces I hadn’t seen before. The last time I’d been over in WrestleZone was last August, I believe, if memory serves. I was quite happy with this seminar, and felt it got better further into the session, and I hit my stride, as it were, cracking the proverbial whip. (Proverbial, mind you. Security would’ve confiscated my training whip in Dublin Airport, had I tried to pack it with my carry-on luggage. I speak from experience…) Nevertheless, great effort shown by the lads involved, which was cool to see.

My match was with Crusher Craib- WZ’s biggest guy- and allowed me to work the classic ‘big man/little man’ style match, which is enjoyable if done well, and it was, on the night. A lot of things just clicked, and I was very pleased with how it turned out, especially since I’d never worked with Craib before, apart from a brief exchange in a battle royal last year. When I asked him what his finish was, pre-match, I was very pleased to hear him say he used a variation of the Black-Hole Slam. I figured a nice finish- and a pretty impactful one- would have him counter my springboard crossbody with the BHS. Only problem? Actually hitting the springboard—I don’t think I’d hit one since last August sometime. Certainly not the running variant I use. That was the only potential problem I foresaw.

Crowd-wise, I was really pleased by the reaction we got. It was a different type of crowd I was used to working in front of. Generally, I’d tend to work family crowds—kids, and parents. The kids are just happy to see wrestling (in any form), and the parents are just there with the kids, for the most part. Kids are brilliant for making noise and getting involved, but they can be fairly fickle/forgetful, and oftentimes match story-telling may kinda go over their heads. That may be a crass generalisation, but it’s mainly from experience. You could’ve wrestled a great match, popped the kids, and thought you made an impression, but go out during intermission, and you’d often get questions like “when are you wrestling?” or “who are you playing?” Playing?! In short, sometimes they forget, and their attention-spans can be quite short.

The interesting dichotomy is that so-called “smart marks” would tend to have a greater appreciation for good wrestling and quality matches but are, at the same time, the most critical observers, and will slate things more brutally than children might. In truth, I enjoy wrestling in front of both types of audiences, but on this night in Aberdeen, I felt incredibly liberated getting the opportunity to let the wrestling- to let the match- speak for itself. With family crowds- used to seeing WWE, who don’t tend to do much crowd work- you have to stay on them, keep them clapping, and keep interacting with them, to ensure they’re involved and interested. I totally understand the importance of involving the crowd—it’s the lifeblood of actually entertaining people—but I was delighted that I didn’t once have to start a clap, or anything like that. I could just go out, wrestle, and know that those in attendance were there to see wrestling.

I was very pleased with the match and, moreover, the springboard finish- that I hoped would come off nicely- worked like a dream. Craib caught me perfectly as I came back with the crossbody, and drilled me with the Black-Hole Slam. Though the bump itself was pretty impactful, I struggled to conceal a smile; it was cathartic. It had worked, the crowd “ooh”-ed, as I hoped they would, and the match got over. I had received a “Crusher’s gonna kill ya” chant at the start but, by the end, I think they admired my spunk. (Figuratively-speaking! The finish wasn’t THAT cathartic!)

Straight after, we went out again for the battle royal on the show. It was good fun, especially doing my Superman Plancha onto all the other participants before the match began—like a big ol’ human crashmat! (I’m sure someone got a knee in the head, though! Oops.) Things boiled down to me and Craib—and a nice duelling chant got going, which was really cool. Eventually, Craib picked me up, with the intention- I would imagine- of powerbombing me not only to the floor, but THROUGH the floor, to the Earth’s very core. This was unacceptable to me, though, as my insurance wouldn’t cover an accident of this nature—what exactly would you file it under? I decided to protect my policy, anyway, and reversed his powerbomb with a ‘rana, sending him to the floor, as I celebrated my win, and vengeance. (Revenge, incidentally, is a dish best accompanied, shortly after, by tea and biscuit.)

This match truly felt like a restoration of my mojo, and like I was making some progress. For a fair bit of 2010, I felt in a bit of a funk. Jericho touches on it in his books as the ‘Jericho Curse.’ I’ve had stuff like that in the past, where certain venues would be cursed for me, as I would work there a few times, and not enjoy the matches—Neilstown, in Dublin, was like that for me for a while, until I broke the curse, after an enjoyable match with Vic Viper. For a while last year, though, I felt a general funk, and just unhappy with what I was doing in-ring. I may have been getting good feedback and reviews, but I’d know in my heart that I could do better, and was frustrated. I was stressing myself out a bit too, and this was manifesting itself in the form of tension headaches. I was feeling this throb/pulse sensation in the back of my head- just behind my left ear- every day intermittently, for a good five or six weeks, spanning December of last year and January of this. At the worst of times, it felt like my head was being squeezed in a vice, and it was making me really irritable, which concerned me.

The GutCheck thing at the end of last month really helped, surprisingly. I’m not gonna bullshit and say that I wowed the TNA agents and officials there, ‘cos that wasn’t the case. That said, I got very good feedback, positive comments and I, personally, felt that I made the impression I hoped I would, and I was happy. Pathetic as it sounds to actually need a bit of endorsement or validation to give me a renewed boost, I did. It gave me momentum, I carried that forward to WrestleZone, and was very pleased to still have that momentum and drive post-show. Jeah! (Along with that, amazingly, the headaches stopped shortly after the Wembley trip, and haven’t returned since. Weird…)

Post-show, there was an “after party” in the upstairs of the club, which we all attended. A live band (with a disturbingly androgynous lead singer) blasted out pop music, while I chatted/shouted to other members of the WZ roster, and swilled Red Bull. (Too many Red Bulls, incidentally. I wasn’t bouncing off the walls or anything—it was just affecting my taste buds!) In other highlights, a nymphomaniac stripper who had acted as a valet on the show was trying to get attention from every male on the roster, while a female OAP fan of the WZ product wandered around giving abuse to all the heels! She told one chap to “get to fuck.” Heh heh! Only in wrestling… Eventually, I headed back with Alan & Cara to theirs, and got a few hours’ sleep on their settee.

As Ryanair don’t operate Aberdeen to Dublin flights on Sundays, my itinerary was a tiny bit different going home. I got a train from Aberdeen to Edinburgh (watching ‘Father Ted’ on the way), and flew home from Edinburgh to Dublin via Aer Lingus. (My first time using Aer Lingus in donkey’s years. It was very comfortable.) I lunched in The Gathering in Edinburgh Airport, before my flight—mistake. I ordered a pepperoni pizza. Sounds pretty simple, right? Round bread, tomato sauce, cheese, pepperoni. Easy. Where a fuckload of rocket salad factors into the preparation is beyond my comprehension. The waitress comes out with the pizza, with a mountain of this green crap in the middle of it. Didn’t mention it on the menu, so I was staggered as to why the bloody hell they’d added it. I soon found out. It was- beyond doubt- the worst restaurant pizza I’ve ever eaten. Ever. Terrible sauce, bland as all hell, cheap-tasting cheese, and a base that could’ve easily been a frozen one. No wonder they were trying to mask the taste with this rocket crap. It was a fucking insult that they were charging 10 quid for this. Be warned, folks: if you’re tempted to have a pizza in The Gathering while waiting for a flight, do so at your peril! Heh heh. Crap pizza aside, it was a very enjoyable trip over.

My second show of the month took place closer to home. A lot closer to home. Twenty minutes away, actually. This was my first Irish show in about nine months or so, and was for Dublin Championship Wrestling, in East Wall, in the north of Dublin. I could attempt to do a detailed summary of the intricacies of the Irish wrestling scene, but I really don’t want to! Sorry. I know it might help to provide a useful guide, but it’s so monumentally fucked-up that I really wouldn’t know where to start, so I won’t! DCW itself is composed mainly of guys who used to be in Celtic Pro Wrestling (CPW), and Irish Whip Wrestling (IWW) or current trainees of Main Stage Wrestling (MSW). The day itself was quite a shock to the system for me, getting used to seeing guys and girls again that I hadn’t seen in quite a while- either working the show, or watching- like Brother Skelly, Vic Viper, The Ballymun Bruiser, Irish Dragon, Siren, Jennidee, and Keego Ward. It was cool catching up with them, even if it felt bizarrely like a time-warp back to 2006! Newer people I was meeting, too, were welcoming and nice; the atmosphere was grand backstage, and not quite as tense as I thought it might be.

I faced LA Warren in my DCW début. He & I had worked each other to death in IWW in 2008 and 2009 (heh heh), but hadn’t worked since I left Irish Whip. The match went fairly well, though the ropes were a little on the loose side. The springboard crossbody that had worked so effectively in my previous match with Crusher Craib wasn’t happening in DCW, and I had a minor slip on the ropes (though, thankfully, one which I recovered from immediately, and covered with a hurricanrana.) The crowd responded well, which was cool, and I was happy chatting away to the fans during intermission, some of whom had remembered me from seeing IWW back in the day. Post-match, I enjoyed a chat with The Ballymun Bruiser, who I hadn’t seen in quite a while. It was great catching up. A bit of company bonding had us all going back to a local pub for a few ‘scoops’, afterwards. (I was on the hard stuff- Club Lemon- as I was driving that evening.) It was a nice experience, and afterward, I picked up a pizza from Apache on the way home, capping off an interesting and mainly enjoyable day. I’m back for DCW at the beginning of March, and look forward to it.

That was it for shows, for February. Now for the miscellaneous stuff: got started on the Joss Whedon show ‘Dollhouse’ this month, and it’s fucking brilliant. Any fans of his previous work, like ‘Buffy’ and ‘Angel’ should love it… Some idiot hit my car the day after the DCW show, pulling into a space in a Tesco car park. No damage done, but I fucking let them have it, and gave ‘em a good ear-bashing. Fool be straight up-tripping, yo… Lifehouse put on a good show in Dublin’s Olympia Theatre this month, with good support from The Shoos, who impressed me. Though Lifehouse’s set list was a bit disappointing, and the show a little stop-start, it was a good gig… Corrupt gougers Fíanna Fáil (Ireland’s previous primary political party—try saying that ten times fast) have been ousted from Government. Considering the cronyism, greed, and incompetence they exhibited while in power, it’s only right they’re out on their arses. My sympathies, however, lie with those hard-working members of FF who have now lost their jobs, due to the inept machinations of the party’s management… decent horror film for fans of the genre: F. Suspenseful, and tense, and pretty damn creepy…

That’s all, folks, as the animated pig says. Thanks for reading, and take care ‘til next time.

Ballance.

The Ballance Sheet, Blog XIII

- originally written Feb 12th, 2011-

A belated happy new year to you, folks. Hope 2011’s been good to you so far.

A trip to Castleford, in Yorkshire, for DPW opened my year, from a wrestling point of view. Though the flight over to Leeds Bradford was hassle-free, there was one minor change to my usual routine. Generally, I’d drive myself to the airport, and park there, availing of the reasonable fees you can get if you book online, in advance. This time, however, I couldn’t; my credit card had been used fraudulently just before Christmas, was cancelled, and I was awaiting the issue of a new one. Very, very, very annoying, but you gotta roll with the punches, as they say. I ended up getting taxis to and from the airport, in the process reminding me of why I prefer to drive myself there. The driver TO the airport took a ridiculously circuitous route- despite me telling him which way to take- and the one on the way home was waffling nineteen-to-the-dozen, overshot my turn, and short-changed me. (Granted, it was only by a small amount, but he was a cheeky fuck to do it.) Never again. (Or, maybe, next time I’ll just be more assertive with what I want.)

Things were grand getting to Leeds, though, and after a breakfast at the airport, I checked into a Travelodge nearby. I’d have a very early morning flight the next day, so it was easiest to just stay close to the airport. I spent a few hours in my room there, chilling out and watching The Day Today, and Dexter (Season 3), on my portable DVD player. It was a really nice, relaxing way to spend most of the afternoon. At the last DPW show I was on, I spent a tough few hours hanging around the freezing Ossett Town Hall during the first ‘cold snap’ of the winter. This trip was during the second cold snap, but having the chance to spend the afternoon in comfort (and warmth!) made a big difference. I made my way to the Castleford Civic Centre by train, and a short walk, in good time for the show, and was suitably zen when I arrived!

I opened the show, teaming with El Ligero to face Prince Mohmed Ameen and Zack Diamond. (Ligero & I were facing Zack again; he had teamed with Joseph Connors last month in a losing effort against us. We were actually due to face the Myatts on this show but, unfortunately, they were unable to make it, in the end.) This was my first time working with Mo in about two years or so; we’d crossed paths on the UK scene a number of times, and he had a few shows for Irish Whip in 2009. It was nice to see- and work with- him again. It was a fun match, too, highlighted (for me) by Mo nearly wiping out the entire front row of the audience! There were steel guardrails set out around the ring, but I think one of them, probably, wasn’t weighted down properly. Mo got dropkicked off the apron, and went flying into the barricade; the end of it came loose, and ended up tilting towards the crowd. (Think of an upper-case L, where the vertical part of the letter is flying towards the audience!) There were panicked gasps, but thankfully no-one got hurt! That aside, the rest of the match went well, and was enjoyable. Ligero & I went over, and are due to face the dysfunctional team of Martin Kirby and my fellow IwW alumnus Mad Man Manson in April, for the DPW Tag Team Titles.

I popped off after the show, and walked back to the station to get my train back to Leeds. There were two other guys waiting there, both of whom had attended the show. One, Philip, had done a documentary on British wrestling a few years ago, and I’d met him at a previous DPW show. The other guy, Thomas, I hadn’t met before. We got chatting, anyway, and it was nice to have a bit of company on the trip back; sound lads. We parted in Leeds train station, and I got something to eat, as I waited for my connecting train back to Horsforth. I hadn’t eaten all day—a partial habit I’ve gotten into on show days—so was delighted to tuck into a McDonald’s. I got back to the Travelodge around midnight or so, and relaxed for a spell. 5-6 hours later, I had to be up for my flight home, and I was super-paranoid about oversleeping! Mainly, as I’d stupidly forgotten to charge my phone before I left, and the battery was nearly dead; my concern was that the phone wouldn’t have enough juice, as it were, to activate the alarm clock function, and I’d miss my wake-up call. Thankfully, that didn’t come to pass. The phone woke me up, and I walked back to the airport into a very chilly wind, and some fierce rain, and THAT- truly- woke me all the way up! The flight home was grand, and that was my first booking of the year done and dusted.

There was one other piece of wrestling-related business in January, and that took place towards the end of the month: I was taking part in TNA’s Gutcheck tryout dealie, in Wembley, London.

The travel went exceptionally smoothly- and according to plan- considering the infinite amount of variables that could’ve gone wrong. I flew into Stansted from Dublin, got the Stansted Express train to Tottenham Hale, the Tube from Tottenham Hale to Euston, and the London Overground from Euston to Wembley Park. A lot of connections, but it all went fine. The Tube—while superbly efficient—was quite a bit more cramped than I remembered it, though then again, it’s been about eight years since I last used it.

When I arrived at Wembley Park station, I met Sam Steel shortly after. I’d encountered Sam previously when I was over at TAW last September. (That was the show where I slapped that gobshite valet.) Sam was going to the tryout, too, so we hung out together for a few hours, and made our way to Wembley Arena (which was a little difficult to find, surprisingly!) We arrived there around 1:20 or thereabouts, checked in, and were shown to a very small changing room, with a load of other guys already getting ready. Most of the faces were unfamiliar to me, but I did recognise a few people.

Scottish worker Red Lightning was there; he and I had worked a match back in early 2008, when I débuted for PBW in Greenock, in Scotland. Joel Redman was there, as well—I’d worked him in my second last show for Irish Whip in 2009, and had crossed paths with him in Wrestling.IE a couple of times since. The first familiar face I saw, though, was Ross Jordan’s. (Or RJ Singh, as he’s called now.) Ross and I had worked together in a well-received 4 way match in PTW back in 2007, along with Seb Drea and Matt Naylor. (On that show, Bull Harley- of local rival promotion ACW- had burst into the venue mid-show, bellowing for Peter Staniforth to show himself, as he’d made some rather questionable allegations about him on the UKFF! One of the more unforgettable moments from my trips abroad!)

Things kicked off around 2pm when D’Lo Brown opened the session. He said he was gonna run through a few things that were gonna be able to tell him if the guys in the session were “able to work.” Stuff like collar-and-elbow tie-ups, the International, some chain, and a short match did give a good indication of the level and abilities of the participants, some of whom had come from as far afield as Italy to take part. There was a fair disparity in the abilities of everyone involved, to be honest, some of whom appeared to have not been trained entirely properly. I worked my match with Ross, and enjoyed it a lot. I was lucky to have gotten Ross to work with, considering some of the others there; potentially, it could’ve been an uphill struggle trying to work a decent match if I’d gotten someone else. Ross knows his stuff, though, and is a good worker, and I was happy with our match. Things wrapped around 4pm, and I got some positive feedback from D’Lo, which was quite encouraging. He’s a very nice guy.

Red Lightning, Sam and I went for a bit of grub after, stopping in to a nice Chinese restaurant near Wembley Arena. I headed back to my hotel after, and chilled for the evening (as I was rather knackered from a week of early starts in work, and a fairly early start that morning.) I stayed in the rather uninspiringly-named ‘Wembley Hotel’, which was alright, but the TV reception was crap, and the shower took about 3-5 minutes to heat up sufficiently. Though the TV reception was poor, I had the portable DVD with me again, and watched The Office (the British one) and the Season 4 finale of Dexter, which was totally shocking. Terrific season. Though I enjoy both the American and British versions of The Office, by the way, I do genuinely think the British one is better, and makes more realistic use of the whole ‘documentary-style’ concept. Along with that, I think Ricky Gervais makes a better cringe-worthy boss. The David Brent character is superbly written, and embodied by Gervais. The American one, regardless, is still- to my mind- one of the best American sitcoms of the last ten years or so, and is generally very well-written too. I just think the British one is slightly funnier.

Work on the rail lines on the Sunday morning meant that I had to make a few adjustments to my plan to get to Stansted, for my flight home. The Overground to Euston was closed, so I had to catch a bus there instead, around 6am. The Tube between Euston and Tottenham Hale was running fine, so there was no hassle there, but the Stansted Express train wasn’t running all the way to Stansted; it was stopping in Bishops Stortford, and a connecting coach was bringing people to the airport. Long story short, I made it back in good time for my flight, and made it home with no hassle.

It was a good trip. Though it would’ve been nice to have gotten a bit more feedback from the session, unfortunately the large number of participants (around 15-20) didn’t really allow for it. I was happy with the little feedback I did get, though, and with how I did, myself, during the session. Realistically, I don’t expect anything to come from it, but if I did get anything from doing this whole process it was a much-needed boost of confidence, and renewal of passion, both of which I’d been lacking slightly over the past while. In a way, I really needed this. In that regard, I’m really glad I did it, and did get something from it, if only to get some peace of mind, and removal of self-doubt. I’m driven, now, to make this as good a year as I can make it.

A big thanks to Lewis and Roger for bringing the session to my attention in the first place, and thanks to everyone for the nice comments on the page, in relation to the tryout. Really appreciate it.

‘Til next time, guys, thanks for reading, and all the best.

Ballance

The Ballance Sheet, Blog XII

- originally written Dec 24th, 2010-

Last one this year-- promise!

Retro edition!!! Jeah! *fist bump*

I gotta say: doing a blog this year has been a bit out-of-character for me. As a person, away from wrestling, I’m quite private, and some people who have known me for years probably don’t know that much about me, truth be told! Socialising, I’d tend to be more of a listener than a talker; I don’t feel comfortable bleating on about myself nineteen to the dozen and, as I said in my first blog, I tend not to post statuses/stati on Facebook, as I don’t feel that my life is interesting enough to stick online. That’s not a knock at all on anyone that does, by the way—everyone uses social networking in their own way, and gains enjoyment from it however they see fit; live and let live. Such is the great thing about life—the various types of people you encounter, and the differing opinions they have, and ways they see the world. My own introversion, as it were, has always caused me to lean towards keeping my cards close to my chest, so writing about my experiences wrestling, and putting it out there, has been a departure for me. I’m surprised and pleased that some of you have enjoyed reading my stuff, and am grateful for the positive feedback that I’ve gotten on it.

I dealt with 2010 pretty exhaustively this year, but references to pre-2010 stuff have been a little bit fleeting, or vague, I guess. So, that’s what this one’s about. I genuinely toyed with the idea of just putting down some of my favourite Irish Whip stories in this, but without their proper context, they wouldn’t really mean much, and the experience would be a little hollow. Confession time: I generally cheat a little bit, by the way, when I write these things; I’ll write the main body of what I want to say, and then stick in a fitting intro, afterward. This time, I started with the intro, began writing, then realised that there was no way I was gonna be able to condense the information I wanted into a blog; there’s too much. As a result, this is more of an ‘origin’ story, in the spirit of ‘Batman Begins.’ This is ‘Ballance Begins.’ Heh heh. Maybe, at some point down the line, I’ll find a more suitable medium through which to get out all my stories, anecdotes, info, etc.…

I think most people at this stage have probably read a wrestling autobiography or two and- I can only speak for myself here- there’s always that temptation just to skip through the childhood/growing up crap, and get straight to the wrestling! Maybe that’s just me? I don’t know. Anyway, I’ll be brief with my own, ‘cos this ain’t an autobiography. (That’s coming next year: ‘On the Wings of Tomorrow: The Bingo Ballance Story.’ Heh heh.) My first experience with wrestling was when I was seven or eight. A Spanish student was staying with my family at the time, and he introduced me to WWF, as it then was. One of my earliest memories is Razor Ramon squashing some jobber on WWF Superstars, or one of those shows. I got hooked on it, and absolutely loved it. (That was around 1992, or so.) It played a large part in my childhood; I remember my first WrestleMania (8), and also remember when I was on holiday in Tenerife that year; we were in a shopping arcade that had a big screen and seating in the centre of it, and watched Survivor Series ’92. I was a big Bret Hart fan, and was “totally stoked” (as they say in the States) that he beat Shawn Michaels in the show’s main event. In 1993, however, WWF disappeared off Sky One—or Sky One disappeared off terrestrial TV; I can’t remember. Either way, wrestling was gone for me. Sad as this sounds, I used to listen to the matches and shows on the scrambled Sky Sports channels. There was no picture, but the sound was clear, so I used to just listen to the shows. Sad? Yes. But I loved it. I couldn’t get enough of it. Desperate times, as they say…

I also rented loads of old PPVs on VHS from Xtra Vision (the local video rental outlet), along with watching WCW on ITV (when it was on) and watching some of their old shows on video, too. In ’94, my folks got a satellite decoder (with the Sky Sports channels) and my access to wrestling was back. My parents really indulged my love for wrestling (in a healthy way) and were amazingly kind like that; on another trip away, they bought a shitload of the WWF stickers before they left, and hid them around the apartment every day for me to find. That I remember stuff like that goes to show, first, I’ve a weird memory and, second, the impact wrestling had on me as I was growing up! I went to my first live WWF show at the Point in Dublin, in 1995, and it was amazing, from what I remember. There’s more stuff, I’m sure, but I don’t want to get bogged down in the early years, or we’ll be here all day!

Over the years, from my primary school days through secondary school and even through university, I continued to watch, and enjoy. I started to ‘get’ wrestling- and watch it from a different perspective- as I got older, and really began to appreciate, primarily, the in-ring stuff. I liked the ‘smaller’ guys like Jericho, Paul London, Austin Aries, Brian Kendrick, Billy Kidman, Chris Benoit, Eddy Guerrero, the Hardys, etc etc., and appreciated their matches. It was always something that I wanted to try, myself, but I felt in the back of my mind that that was impossible. I wasn’t aware of any independent promotions in Europe, and felt that all the action, as it were, was going on in the States. In 2005, that changed.

It’s funny the course that your life takes, and how sometimes, things feel fated. I don’t believe in a ‘divine plan’ or ‘destiny’, or stuff like that, but it’s funny how sometimes aspects of your life feel like a precursor to something else, like a link in a chain. I worked part-time in McDonald’s in Dublin from 2003 until 2006 and, in 2004, met another wrestling fan who I worked with, called Ian. We got on fairly well, and he got his mate Stephen a job in McDonald’s too. I got on very well with Stephen, through our mutual love of wrestling, and similar outlooks on life, and he tipped me off to a show going on in Dublin, in March 2005, featuring AJ Styles and Chris Daniels. (I was on a major ROH buzz at the time, so this sounded good to me.) We got tickets to the show—the Irish Whip Wrestling Supershow, in the SFX Theatre in Dublin city centre. (The SFX is now, unfortunately, a parking garage.) Stephen, his mate Bryan and I headed along, enjoyed the show, and went to a couple of subsequent IWW shows around the area. I learned, through attending the shows, that IWW had a training school in Dublin, and this was music to my ears; it was something I definitely wanted to try. I put off joining until the summer of 2005, as I was in the second year of a very intense university course, and needed to focus on my degree.

I finished up my second year college exams at the end of May, and a week or two later, made the trip down to the Irish Whip gym in Baldoyle (in north Dublin.) I knocked on the roller shutter, and could hear the noises of the ring in use on the other side; I didn’t know what to expect. Vic Viper opened up, and I recognised him from the few shows I’d seen him on. Though Vic came across as a brooding, taciturn heel on shows, he was a really nice guy to talk to, and answered all my questions patiently, and gave all the info I needed. I signed up that day, and arranged to have a private class with Vic the next day, aided by Seán South, who was almost like a teaching assistant. Stephen joined me, and we made the trip together. We bumped, and learned the basics, and my neck was in agony the following morning; par for the course with bumping for the first time! It’s using muscles your body isn’t used to using, so it can be a bit of a shock to the system.

Over the course of the next few weeks, I did a few more private classes, with Vic and with Red Vinny, and also joined in the group classes, too, when I felt I wouldn’t be holding the others back. (Stephen joined me for a while, but I think he stopped enjoying it, or his priorities changed. It’s a shame, though, as he definitely had potential. I continued solo.) Though I genuinely hate blowing my own trumpet, as it were, I picked up the basics incredibly fast, and was pleased with my progress, as was Vic. (It needs to be noted, at this point, the effort Vic put into training during that period. Sheamus—yes, WWE’s Sheamus—and Red Vinny were both credited as the Head Trainers in IWW, but both were busy with their jobs, and didn’t made it down that often. Vic, who never got credited publicly as being a trainer, was down in the lock-up several days a week, ensuring the place was open, and that people could train. The word ‘sacrifice’ is thrown around a lot in wrestling—almost to clichéd proportions—but Vic genuinely did sacrifice a lot of his time and energy to keep the School running, and it deserves mention.)

Three weeks to the day from my first private class, there was a Gym Wars show in the training school. The Ballymun Bruiser (who I’d recently met in training, when we did a bit of chain together, and got along well with) advised me before to come down and bring some gear, just in case, and I did as asked. Though, as a trainer, I’ve always advised people against this course of action, I ordered some gear off the ‘Net within a week or two of joining, including a pair of pleather pants from Highspots. I was all-set, gear-wise, when the time came. At Gym Wars, Vic pushed for me, and I got a spot in a battle royal. It was an absolute clusterfuck, but it was the first step (or one of the early steps, anyway) on my wrestling ‘journey.’

At this Gym Wars, too, I met IWW’s promoter for the first time. Though he and I developed a good working relationship over time- and my opinion of him evolved as we got on better- in the early days, I found the man to be an absolute fucking prick, to put it very mildly. The first time I met him in my capacity as an IWW trainee was to discuss my ring name. I’d come up with a few ideas, and was pitching them to him. To set the scene: he was standing with his back to one of the walls, and I was facing him at a forty-five degree angle. He never looked at me once, shot down all my ideas, offered none of his own, and kept his sunglasses on (though we were indoors) the whole time. He was standoffish, blunt, fairly rude, and I didn’t like him. I may have been a little over-eager, but I’ve always been a polite guy, and always represent myself fairly well when meeting people for the first time. Regardless, the début was in the can—I débuted under the name Matt Richards; a little bland, though I have to say my preference was for a ‘real’ name, rather than something cartoonish.

I continued training hard in the weeks after, and one Monday night, a break came. I drove down to the lock-up in Baldoyle to help with the process of taking apart the ring, as it was due to be used the following day on a show in Trabolgan, in Co. Cork. (Trabolgan is a holiday camp in the southwest of Ireland, and during the summer of 2005, Irish Whip would do a show there every Tuesday.) I arrived to find only Vic there. I gave him a hand, we chatted, and after a while, Manson (‘Mad Man Manson’) and Bruiser arrived with the van. I helped with the loading, and they appreciated that I was there to help out. Someone put in a good word on my behalf, and I was invited to go to Trabolgan the next day, to the show.

The experience was mixed—I got my first singles match, but also was forced to strongly question whether this was a world I wanted to be a part of. I had to be up at the crack of dawn to catch a bus out of Dublin city centre to this place in the back-arse of nowhere (as we say in Ireland) called ‘Borris-in-Ossory.’ From there, I’d be picked up by the promoter, and a few of the other wrestlers, and we’d make the rest of the long journey to Trabolgan, in Cork. It was a minivan we were travelling in, and I was sitting in front of the promoter who, for the entire journey, decided to ‘hilariously’ rib me, and take the piss, for his own amusement and as one of these pathetic little wrestling tests/initiations that make absolutely no sense to anyone in the real world. It’s bullshit. Though he’s about ten years older than me, he displayed the maturity of someone about a third of my age, drawing on my neck in magic marker and, in general, being an insufferable cunt, pardon my French. I’m all for having a laugh, and having fun, but I didn’t find this particularly pungent brand of crap amusing. But for the fact that 1) I’m not typically a violent guy, 2) I was reliant on the van for transport, and 3) I didn’t want to blow my opportunity to wrestle, I would’ve cracked the fucker in the jaw as soon as we arrived. That said, I definitely think restraint paid off in the long run.

The ‘Matt Richards’ name was being replaced, and I was given the choice between two others: ‘Dropkick Murphy’ or ‘Bingo O’Malley.’ (Both dreadful, but neither were the worst names that have been used in the promotion! The promoter had many strengths—naming people was not amongst them. From the Horrible Name Hall of Fame: Ted E. Bear, B. Ling Bling, Mickey Magpie, Ray-Gun Rooney, Billy Boy, Popcorn Ryan, Danger Doyle, Blaze Bailey, The Bosco Hanley, Working Class John, Paddy Whack, Fritz Fitzpatrick, and Skaterboy Jeebus—never met the guy in my time there, but it’s an abysmal name. Not his fault. You play the hand you’re dealt.) Anyway, Bingo was chosen for me, and I wrestled my first match as “Bingo O’Malley.” (I was amused to discover last year that there’s an actor in the States by that name, who starred in the remake of My Bloody Valentine.)

Of what I can remember of the match, it went fairly well. Certainly not a bad first singles match, especially for someone who’d only started training about five or six weeks before. My strikes needed work, along with my selling and feeding, but the experience of wrestling in front of a couple of hundred people was excellent, and thoroughly enjoyable.

The trip back to Borris-in-Ossory was, like before, difficult and awkward, and put a sour note on what should’ve been a good day. It was a bit deflating. A few days later in training, though, I got a bit of advice, and a pep talk, that turned things around.

Though a little cynical as a person, I was a bit naïve to wrestling. You can read all the autobiographies in the world, and all the gossip on the ‘Net but, truly, to understand wrestling and the inner-workings, you need to be in it; in the thick of it. I thought that everyone got on with the promoter, and that he just had a problem with me for some reason. Bruiser took me aside outside training, and I told him what had happened on the trip to Trabolgan and that, honestly, I wasn’t interested in working shows, if I had to deal with him; the promoter, that is. I didn’t care about progressing; I’d keep training as I had been, for myself, to get better, and because I enjoyed it. Bruiser and I got on well together at that point, and we had a laugh, but I think that was the point he actually seemed to gain respect for me. Bruiser proved himself to be a true friend with the advice he gave me. He could’ve agreed with me, and advised me to stay off shows, in order to ‘protect his spot’, but he didn’t. He allayed my fears that everyone else liked the promoter and got on with him, and revealed that most couldn’t stand him, and thought he was “a cock.” This was encouraging. He told me to stay the course, and to keep doing what I was doing, and gave me the drive I needed to continue on. That conversation meant a lot, and was a key turning point for me.



Two years later, the Zero Gravity show rolled around. I was nervous; I had three matches ahead of me, and my main worry was that the crowd wouldn’t accept me as champion, or winner of the tournament, and it would fall flat. (That didn’t happen, thankfully.) Bruiser was there again with a pep talk and told me that it was “[my] night” and that I deserved it. He fired me up, and it was a really, really nice thing to say. Along with that, he was there post-match to congratulate me, once the final with Pac was over. (As someone who was a key advocate of keeping kayfabe—or ‘staying in character’—I appreciated him making an exception!) Like mentioning Vic’s dedication to training earlier, Bruiser’s role in helping me out early on definitely deserves mention, and no account of my career origins, as it were, would be complete without him.

So, how did Bingo Ballance come about, you ask, when it was Bingo O’Malley? There was a ‘trainee forum’ at the time, on the IWW website, and the promoter was thanking everyone who had come to the Trabolgan show the previous day. Bruiser put something to the effect of “congrats, Bingo” on the thread, in relation to my first match, and I replied, semi-jokingly, with “It’s Ballance, dammit!!” (and possibly with some sort of emoticon after that. Most people called me “Ballance" at the time.) The promoter shot back with something like: “Grand. That’s settled, so. From now on, you’ll be Bingo Ballance.” It’s stuck since then. A lot of people asked me why I never changed it once I left IWW in 2009. (I hated being called “Bingo.” Even to this day, I prefer to be called by my real name, or “Ballance.” This is with the obvious exception of the audience or fans.) Simply put, I put in over four years’ worth of hard work under that name up to that point, and had busted my ass to try and earn a good reputation, so I didn’t see the point in changing it. That, plus it’s catchy! It’s got a lyrical quality to it.

There’s loads more from that first year, but the main turning point was a match with Mad Man Manson at Gym Wars 8. I was very happy with it, Manson looked after me (and I suspect had been pushing for me even further behind the scenes) and the promoter began to treat me a little more soundly than he had been, after it. Post-Trabolgan, he pretty much ignored me, which is what I wanted, but I think I was on his radar a little bit after that match, and in a slightly more positive light. Our relationship began to improve, and my career continued on into 2006, and up to the present day. Loads and loads and LOADS of stories since then, but this blog ain’t big enough to hold them! Maybe another time...

Anyway, there we have it. Bloody long blog! If you’re still reading, I admire your patience! Fair play. That’s me done, blog-wise, for 2010. I don’t know what the story is for next year, but I don’t imagine I’m done writing just yet. Heh heh. Not by a longshot.

Happy Christmas to ye, and cheers for reading.

Ballance