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

The Ballance Sheet, Blog XI

- originally written Dec 18th, 2010-

I finished up Octember in the last one, so all that remains to do is to wrap up 2010 in this bad boy, and cover the shows from November and December, and all ancillary trivia that goes with it. So, let's get to it!

One cool thing about November, to begin with, was catching up with some old mates from Irish Whip who I hadn’t seen in a while, like ‘Angry’ Andy Barton, Bam Katraz, Vic Viper, and ‘The Kid’ Keith Connolly. All four are great guys, and it was nice to see them again, and have a chat. I also briefly ran into Brother Skelly during the month, too, and it was good seeing him.

My one booking in November- another light month- was a return to SSW, in Bathgate. I flew over to Glasgow Prestwick on the Saturday morning, and was met by Calum on the other end. It was July when I last saw him, so it was great catching up with him again. We hung out at his for a while, before his services were needed at the SPWA unit in East Kilbride. Scottish rock band The Recovery were shooting a pop video in the unit (for their track ‘New York Baddie’), and needed some wrestling footage to stick in it. I ended up participating. After a fair bit of hanging around, we worked a tag match: me and Calum against Davey Blaze and TJ Rage. It went well, and it was great to get to see Calum in action. The Recovery were also a nice bunch of lads, and the song they were performing sounded good, though I’m sure it sounds better when it’s not being blasted out at absolutely full volume! Heh heh.

After more waiting around, we took off for Bathgate: me, Calum, and SPWA trainees Saqib, Anthony Christie and Disco. (Mr. Christie’s karaoke version of the Travis song ‘Sing’ was utterly bone-chilling, I should note. Heh heh. Late at night, as I lie in bed, I can still hear it echoing in my head, like one of those haunting, slow-motion voiceovers they do in films!) The journey didn’t take any more than an hour. Once there, it was great to see some of the regular SSW guys (Muzlem, Falcon, Ken Adams, Effen Awesome, amongst others)—I always enjoy the atmosphere there; nice bunch of guys.

My match was for the SPWO Title (the promotion’s secondary title, I believe), and I faced reigning champ Andy Wild. Andy’s gotten some very good press, for lack of a better term, over the past while, as one of the top wrestlers in Scotland, and such praise is deserved. I enjoyed our match a lot, and feel it flowed nicely. Despite hurting his elbow a bit toward the end of the match, he worked through it, and we went to the planned finish. Thankfully, I don’t think it was a serious injury, just a bad fall. I went a bit “old school”, incidentally, rocking my first pair of custom pants that I got back in 2006, and dusting off one of my old trademark moves, the I-10. (A few of my moves are my own creations, and they’re uniquely named: the G-17, I-10, and B-84, representing my real-life initials, and date of birth. Bit of utterly useless trivia for you, there.) Enjoyable match, anyway.

There was a battle royal afterwards, too. Not that guys don’t take them seriously, but battle royals are usually a bit of fun, as you can have a bit of a laugh with some of the other guys in there; someone was choking me in the corner at some point, and singing ‘Bear Necessities’ in my ear! Heh heh. (Red Vinny and I, back in the day, as well, used to tell each other “you’re not Jigsaw, bitch!”, quoting Donnie Wahlberg’s character from Saw III.) Anyway, once the show was ‘in the can’, as they say, we headed off, and Calum dropped off Saqib, Anthony and Disco. I was knackered, so it seemed like a much longer journey than it probably was! We got back to his, anyway, and had some pizza, which went down nicely. It was a very long day, so it was nice to end it quietly, with a bit of Father Ted, pizza, and some chat.

I flew back the following morning, to Dublin, got home, and had a well-needed shower. Not that my personal hygiene was in question—it’s just very refreshing to have one after a flight, and especially with the aches and pains picked up from a show the previous night. That was that for November.

My final weekend of shows for the year took place in December, but there were question marks over whether or not they’d be going ahead- or if I’d be able to make them- considering the crazy situation with the frost and snow in Ireland and the UK over the end of November and start of December. Ice/slippiness aside, I liked the snow, I have to say. It’s rare to get snowfall of that volume in Ireland, and it was really nice to see the landscape covered in white this close to Christmas. Along with that, being up against the elements, at times, allows humanity and community to shine through; I saw people helping to push cars stuck in the ice (and did so, myself), and help each other up off the ground after a fall. It’s nice to see. That said, the ugly side of humanity shone through as well, with fucking little knackers/chavs/scumbags/neds pelting people with snowballs and, most annoyingly for me, lashing snow or iceballs at passing cars. Driving on ice is hard enough without these little scumbags throwing stuff at you. I hate skangers/chavs with a passion; mindless, racist knuckle-draggers with abysmal fashion sense (who the fuck walks around with their pants tucked into their socks?), and worse taste in music; this I know, since they’re always pumping out this repetitive dance/garage music shite out of their phones on public transport. Get a fucking pair of earphones you inconsiderate halfwits. Anyway, I digress… Rant over!

Flights leaving Dublin were a bit touch-and-go for the week leading up to that weekend, but there was no trouble getting over to Leeds on the Saturday. The plane sat on the tarmac for a little while getting de-iced, but that was it, mainly, apart from a really sketchy landing in Leeds Bradford Airport; the pilot had to slam on the brakes due to the ice, overshot the slipway leading to the Airport, and had to turn around to taxi back to the terminal. I’m not a ‘bad flyer’ by any stretch of the imagination, but the landing was a bit of a “whoa, shit” moment!

I was in Yorkshire for DPW’s final show of the year, in Ossett. The morning/afternoon was spent with some of the prep for the show- picking up the ring, helping with the venue setup, etc., while the afternoon was spent sitting idle (and a little bored, frankly) in the Ossett Town Hall. Pardon my French, but it was fucking freezing in the hall. Fucking. Freezing. The radiators were on, but due to the high ceilings, and open spaces, they might as well not have been. Considering the sub-zero temperatures at that time, especially across Northern Europe, I really just wanted to be home in bed!

The show drew quite well, anyway, but the card had to be re-jigged a little, due to pull-outs ‘cos of the weather. I was originally due to face El Ligero and Cameron Kraze in a triple-threat, but ended up teaming with Ligero to face Joseph Connors (who I hadn’t seen since August 2008, when he very kindly gave me a lift back to East Midlands Airport from an RDW show in Skegness we were both on) and Zack Diamond. It was a fun match, even if I ended up in the second row, when I overshot my plancha dive to the outside! (I wiped out one of the empty chairs just behind the front row!) Joe got a nasty bang on the head mid-match, and a pretty bloody nose, when he hit his face a little harder than I’m sure he intended on a bulldog. He was a bit glassy-eyed after, but was ok. It was nice chatting to him, afterward, and to Zack, as well. Very sound lads.

I’d planned to head back to a B&B near Leeds Bradford Airport after the show, but it didn’t work out. I’d dropped by earlier in the morning to pick up the key, so I could return later at my leisure, but no one answered; frustrating, considering I’d mentioned that I was going to be doing so, when phoning up to make the booking. After ringing the doorbell seven times, and banging very loudly on the front door bellowing “Let me in. LET ME IN!!!”, I decided to give up. On the fourth or fifth ring, a golden retriever came down the stairs and regarded me with a sort of smug indifference; man’s best friend, indeed. In order for me to have a room for the night, the proprietors of the B&B would have to stay up to give me the key, and take payment. Due to a number of factors, it wouldn’t be until after midnight, and possibly near one o’clock when I’d be doing so, so it didn’t seem worth it to a) keep them waiting up for me, and b) paying for a room that I’d only be using for a few hours, since I’d be flying home early to Dublin. I had to cancel the booking, so, quite late, and simply stay at the Airport for a few hours. Not ideal, by any stretch of the imagination, but it happens. I did have a delicious pepperoni pizza, though, with the promoter and two of his trainees, Dan & Alex, before I got dropped off, that really hit the spot, as it were. It was needed.

The flight back was fine, and I watched some Police Squad on the portable DVD. (I was saddened by the death of Leslie Nielsen, I must say. Very funny man; Airplane! and the Naked Gun films are amongst my favourite comedies of all-time.) Zombie-like from the lack of sleep, I essentially sleepwalked through the Dublin Airport terminal building (accompanied by Howie Day’s Collide on the iPod), got back to my car (which was completely frozen, annoyingly), and drove home. In January, I had a show in Germany on a Saturday, flew home on the Sunday, and then drove to Naas for an NLW show that evening. I was shattered after it, but in an amusing sense of circularity, I finished the year essentially doing the same, as I got home from a foreign show, and then did a domestic one the same day. This time, it involved a slightly longer drive, up to Belfast for PWU, but I thankfully napped for most of the morning I got home, so got a little bit of rest, at least. The roads were a bit icy- but perfectly safe- and the trip up was fine, listening to pop music to stave off tiredness. (EVERYTHING is 'pop music' to me, by the way. I could be listening to Rammstein, for example, or the African tribal stylings of Ladysmith Black Mambazo, and I'd still refer to it as pop music! Just to note.)

My involvement in the show was to save ‘Toxic’ Scott Annette from a beatdown being apportioned out to him by heels Damien Corvin and ‘Mighty’ Marty Andrews- and a very generous portion, at that!- and challenge them to a tag match. I enjoyed the promo, setting up the match, and had a bit of a laugh leading the crowd to boo- and even hiss- Andrews for interrupting the Corvin/Annette match! Awesome crowd to work with. The match went grand, and got the job done nicely, as Scott and Marty advanced their feud, and Corvin & I advanced ours. I got to try out a headscissor variation on Corvin, to the outside, which he took really well; one to add to the repertoire for the future, methinks. Generally, most of the new faces I meet around the place would be from the UK or Northern Ireland, so to meet someone new (for me) with a Dublin accent was a bit weird, as I met Insano there. He & I have travelled in different Irish wrestling circles over the years, and our paths crossed for the first time on this show. We chatted for a while, and he seemed like a nice guy.

I made the trip back to Dublin with Kev Rocks, and enjoyed the company, and chat. After dropping Kev off, I picked up a much-desired chicken fried rice from my local Chinese, and tucked in as I watched Ireland’s Mary Byrne get voted off the X-Factor. (Boo! Fix! Heh heh.)

And that’s 2010 done and dusted for me, wrestling-wise. It’s been a decent year, I think, but I’ll deal with the year as a whole in the next one o’ these. It’ll be better dealt with in another blog, rather than try to shoehorn some crap into the end of this one.

For now, I’m off to try and sort out a better deal for my digital TV and broadband, as I’ve been tipped off that the bastards are driving up prices from January. Very clever, right? People are gonna be earning less with the new budget, so you put prices up. Those fools be straight up trippin’, yo. Jeah!

Anyway, thanks for reading, folks. Not sure if I’ll get ‘round to another blog before Christmas, but if I don’t, have a great one, and enjoy yourselves.

Ballance

The Ballance Sheet, Blog X

- originally written Dec 9th, 2010-

Wa-hey! Blog number ten! I’ll be honest with you, guys—I never imagined living long enough, or maintaining my sanity long enough, to write a tenth one of these, so this whole thing could be a bit touch and go. Let’s see how it goes, anyway…!

October, mercifully, was more of an active month than September was, and it started off with a trip to Bangor, in Northern Ireland. (Well, technically it started off with a trip to The O2 in Dublin to see Bill Bailey’s “Dandelion Mind” show—which was excellent, incidentally—but , wrestling wise, it started off with the Bangor trip, for the début show of MEGA- Modern Extreme Grappling Arts; splendid acronym!) I made the trip there with Joe Cabrey and Maxer and- aside from the pouring rain- the journey was fine. The MEGA show was being run by Bonesaw, using a lot of good talent from Northern Ireland, the Republic of Ireland (or Southern Ireland), and from Bonesaw’s own training school, so it was a nice mix. (It was at this show that I actually cottoned on to the fact that more people were reading these things than I imagined. I thought maybe five people were reading them, and I was mainly writing them for my own amusement! Heh heh. At any rate, it was an interesting turn up for the books, as it were.)

I opened the show in a tag match. Maxer and I joined forces to take on The Creed (Damien Corvin and Silas Black.) It was an enjoyable match, and the crowd were very hot, and into the action, which really helped. Sometimes, crowds take a while to get warmed up and, if it’s their first show, they’re not really sure how they’re supposed to react; not so with this audience- they got it from the word “go”, whatever that means. Maxer made a great partner; our styles complement each other well, and he’s a cool guy too, and very easy to get on with. I’d say we may end up teaming again down the line.

The atmosphere was excellent backstage, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. I certainly enjoyed myself, offloading the merch I’d brought along! (It’s all about the… hang on, I’ll get this: “dollar, dollar bill, y’all.” Well, the British dollar- or “pound”- bill in this case. Jeah!)

The trip back to Dublin was grand, afterward, and I picked up a delicious pizza pie from Apache after dropping off Joe and Maxer. (Ham, chicken and sweetcorn, if I’m not mistaken; if I am, in fact, “taken”! Heh heh.) It was a great end to the day, anyway, getting stuck into the old Italian-American sauced bread.

Weird little coincidences amuse me. In May, I worked for Pro Wrestling Ulster (PWU) for the first time, but a few days before, I’d had an astro-turf football blitz with some colleagues from work. If you recall, I wasn’t in an especially good way after it! During October, I worked for PWU for the second time, but a few days before, I had- you guessed it- an astro-turf football blitz with some colleagues from work! As I say, coincidences amuse me! Thankfully, I was mainly fine after it (despite a few grazes from the rough playing surface.) Since May, I’ve been playing indoor football once a week, and have built up my ‘football cardio’! As a result, it didn’t leave as bad an effect on me this time around.

The morning of the show, I finished off Season 6 of House on DVD, which was awesome, as it generally is. (Big House fan, I have to say!) The trip to Belfast, to PWU’s venue in the Balmoral Hotel, was fine, and I made it solo, listening to a bit of music, and some Alan Partridge on the way. (The “Duchess of Stranraer” interview put me in good spirits before the show.) The atmosphere, like last time, was great; the PWU lads are a nice bunch. I worked a singles match with Damien Corvin, which went well, I felt, and I enjoyed. The only awkward thing about it was the canvas was covered in glitter from a previous match. When you’re working a match with fast-paced spots in it, breathing in a fairly enclosed space is pretty hard as it is, but when you’re knocking glitter around and inhaling that, too, it becomes that little bit more difficult. (I worked a show earlier this year where there was sawdust from the ring boards in the air, and that was equally tough on the ol’ lungs!) Apart from the breathing difficulty, I liked the match, and the PWU experience again. Also on the card, Tron had his last match for PWU, and got a fitting, and touching, send-off. A very nice moment.

I made the trip back to Dublin with Kev Rocks, and enjoyed the chat with him. I also enjoyed bellowing “COME ON, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!!” at a driver holding up proceedings in the Balmoral Hotel car park, which caused him to move out of the way, and allow traffic to pass him! Very proud of myself, so I was…! Another Apache pizza capped off the evening, once I’d dropped Kev off in Dublin’s city centre. Heh heh. I do like my pizza.

What put me in especially good humour for PWU, incidentally, was that although it was a Sunday, the following day, I’d be beginning a fortnight away from work, allowing me some much-needed ‘down time’. I believe I used the time valuably, and caught up with a number of films and DVD box sets I’d wanted to watch (along with getting a decent amount of sleep- for a change!- and getting back in touch with a few friends.) I finished Season 5 of Supernatural, and also began and finished Season 2 of Fringe, during that fortnight. Film-wise, I watched The Human Centipede (ok, bar some dodgy acting), Cemetery Junction (excellent), Buried (terrific, and inventive), Legendary (surprisingly good), Hatchet (fairly good), Paranormal Activity 2 (impressive sequel), and Frozen, which became an instant favourite of mine. I love to see good characterisation and realism in films, and this had it in spades, along with fantastic acting from the three leads. It’s a film about three people who get stuck up on a ski lift at a ski lodge that’s just closed for the weekend, and how they can survive the various dangers they face. That rather facile summary really doesn’t do the film justice, unfortunately, but it does come with the patented “Bingo Ballance Seal of Approval”, for what it’s worth, and joins the likes of Se7en, Silence of the Lambs, Donnie Darko, The Wicker Man, Batman Begins, and Inside (or A “l’intérieur”) as one of my favourite films (amongst others.)

Mid-October, and during my time off, I got another year older, turning 26. I had a really cool, low-key birthday, and plenty of really nice comments on my ‘Wall’, so thanks again to all you guys for those. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside…, though that could also be acid reflux… I should probably get that checked out…

I had one more show to finish off October, and that involved a trip back to DPW, in Yorkshire. Generally, I would’ve flown into Leeds anytime I’ve worked for them, but flights were a bit too high for my liking this time around; the costs, I should say, were too high. The cruising altitude was perfectly acceptable! A cheaper option, at any rate, involved a flight into Manchester, and a train journey from the Airport to Leeds, so that’s the option I went with. The whole process was very comfortable- particularly the train journey- and I had the ol’ portable DVD player with me, allowing me to watch a few episodes of One Foot in the Grave on the way. I was picked up from Leeds train station by the promoter’s sister Gemma, and her son and fiancé, and we headed along to Pontefract. Gemma had The Script’s album Science & Faith on the stereo on the way there- which I was hearing for the first time, if you’ll pardon the pun- and I liked it quite a bit; picked it up in the airport on the way home. Ireland’s been turning out some impressive music of late: The Script, Codes, The Shower Scene, and the other one—ripped up the Pope? Bald chap…

From 2pm until 5pm, I had another training session for the DPW Academy, and enjoyed it a lot, having had a bit more time to prepare for this session than the impromptu one I took in August. Some of the guys I’d trained with last time- Alex, Andy, Roger & Luke- were back, and there were two new trainees, as well. Though I did enjoy the session a good bit, and felt we got a nice amount covered, a few of the lads got a bit fucked-up, unfortunately, trying ‘shitcans.’ (A ‘shitcan’ is basically where you’re thrown out of the ring, either over the top rope, or through the middle. Practicing them, and how to control your exit and landing, is quite useful for battle royals and the like, especially since débuting wrestlers will often get chucked into a battle royal to begin with, in order to get them used to performing in front of a crowd.) Roger injured his shoulder, and Andy hurt his pelvis, but both gutted it out and soldiered on, to their credit. Injuries aside, it was a fun class, and all the lads worked hard. No moany emos this time around! Hope to do some more training with them again at some point in the future.

The show drew well, and I had a really fun match with Martin Kirby. Martin is regarded as one of the best wrestlers in the UK at the moment- justifiably so- and is a lovely guy into the bargain, and I thoroughly enjoyed working with him; our match came off very nicely, I felt. Martin also has a “crooked ref” involved in his matches, named Ricc, who unfortunately always seems to “buffoon” things up, and cost Martin the match! Ricc was involved in this one, and played his part to perfection, getting a nice amount of heat for him and Martin, and positioning himself exactly where he was needed. It added a very nice dimension to the story of the match, and I was pleased with it.

Gemma very kindly put me up for the evening, and we all had a nice Chinese together, post-show. The trip back to Dublin the following morning was the same in reverse; a train from Leeds to Manchester Airport, and then a flight home. Very comfortable, again, and no hassle at all. It was an enjoyable trip over, on the whole.

That was it for October. As for the remainder of 2010, I’ve two blogs left. In the next one, I’m gonna cover my final shows of the year, for SSW, DPW and PWU, from November and December, while the twelfth one will, I think, be more of a retrospective edition (for lack of a better term) on not only this year, but years gone by, as well. Ah, memories…! A reader of this yoke requested me to write about some of my old IWW stuff, recently, so I might as well chuck in a bit of that into number twelve. If any of ye are curious about anything, or want me to touch on something specific in a future one of these, just give me a shout. (This is within reason, by the way. I’m not a fan of publicly “burying” anyone in this thing, and won’t be doing so. Sorry! Diplomacy, and ‘not ruffling feathers’ has served me well over the past few years, and I shall be continuing with that. )

Until next time, folks, stay safe and be well.

Ballance

The Ballance Sheet, Blog IX

- originally written Nov 27th, 2010-

A bit of writer’s block held up this bad boy, folks. Well, maybe “writer’s block” is overstating it somewhat—it’s a blog after all, not some literary masterpiece—but the words weren’t flowing, and I wasn’t feeling in a typing mood, so it was a block of some kind. “Blogger’s block”, perhaps. Yeah, that’ll do! Heh heh. At any rate, let’s get down to business.

September was pretty sparse, in terms of bookings, unfortunately. I had two, originally, but one kinda fell through. Kinda. I had arranged a booking with a guy I’d dealt with twice this year. On both occasions, there were no issues or hiccups, and the guy was quite sound. As the date got closer, I e-mailed him to confirm all was cool for the show, and he never got back. Another guy from the promotion did, however, and let me know that they couldn’t afford to have me in, after all. I was fairly pissed, to tell the truth, especially since I’d already paid for the flights, and they were no good to me, then. That said, the guy who let me know was pretty sound about it, has since tried to make it up, and actually had the courtesy and respect to fill me in on what was going on- which is more than could be said for the fella I’d dealt with previously- so it’s not a major deal. It IS a shame, but sometimes, things fall through. It’s just the nature of wrestling.

A show I was due to work on in Sheffield, actually, three years ago- which potentially could’ve been pretty huge if it went ahead- was postponed and eventually cancelled; this was particularly disappointing as I was due to work in a fatal four way match with Austin Aries, whose work I really enjoy. Last year, as well, I was booked on a five date tour of Germany with SWO in June, but the promoter went missing, and was found dead by his own hand shortly after that. Extremely tragic. I’d done two shows for him previously, and he was very kind to me; it was a real shame what happened. A cautionary tale, perhaps, that promoting wrestling isn’t for everyone, and shouldn’t be taken lightly.

The one date I did have in September was a lot of fun; I débuted for Total Action Wrestling (TAW) in Milton Keynes. The flight over to Luton Airport on the Saturday morning was mercifully quiet—no rowdy hen parties, no loud Geordies bellowing a running commentary of what they could see out the window, no Cork DJs exposing (and pleasuring) themselves while out of their heads on booze and/or narcotics! Heh heh. The quiet was conducive to a bit of light reading, and I managed to get through Joe Penhall’s play ‘Blue/Orange’ on the way over, which was very good indeed. I did some acting classes this year- and last- and have really gotten into reading plays as a result. I even actually had a public performance this year, where I played the character “Vinnie” in Sam Shepard’s ‘Simpatico.’ It was only a short ten minute scene, but it was a pleasant intro to acting publicly, and I really enjoyed it; a nice accompaniment to the theatrical side of wrestling, and just great fun, in general. Wrestling will, I would imagine, always be my primary outlet for creativity and whatnot, but I do really like acting, too, and plan to do more of it early next year. Anyway…

The TAW experience was a very enjoyable one. Steve, the promoter, was a really nice guy, and put me up for the evening after the show. He & his wife were exceptionally kind and welcoming. The wrestling equivalent of the “carney code” is something I’ve found really great over the years; the fact that people would have me in their homes, having never set eyes on me before, is amazing to me. Not to go all Tennessee Williams here, but if I’ve experienced anything during my years travelling around wrestling, it’s the kindness of strangers! (“STEELLLLLAAAAA!!!!”) It’s never easy being away from home and in an unfamiliar place, so I will always be grateful to those who have agreed to let me stay with them. I’m a fairly cynical guy, but my faith in humanity has been somewhat restored over the last few years; somewhat, I should say. I’m still very cynical!

I’ve been asked by a few people down through the years what the best and worst things about wrestling are, from my own experience. Aside from the in-ring stuff, which is definitely my favourite part, amusingly, one answer covers both of these two extremes: the people. Some people I’ve met over the past five and a half years have been- to be frank- complete and utter assholes. Veterans trying to throw their weight around. Conceited dickheads with an overblown idea of their own importance. Bullies taking liberties with younger/smaller guys in the ring. Patronising/mendacious slimeballs who think you can’t see through their bullshit. The list goes on. Other people I’ve encountered, though, have been absolutely bang-on (Irish slang for “sound”), and I’m really grateful to have had the chance to meet them. I’ve made some great friends over the last few years through wrestling, and the travel has allowed me to meet some terrific people that I ordinarily never would’ve crossed paths with. Case in point: Lewis Cooper.

I met Lewis early that day when I sat in on a TAW training class, and we hung out in Milton Keynes for the afternoon. I don’t think I’ve ever clicked with someone so quickly! Our mutual appreciation for Alan Partridge and Father Ted- along with my ability to take his casual anti-Irish racism with gentle, good humour- meant we pretty much got on like a house on fire; a house engulfed in flames, with its screaming occupants still inside. Anyway, spending time with Lewis put me in good humour, and the usual awkwardness of meeting an entire locker room of new people dissipated. The rest of the TAW lads were extremely nice, at any rate. A really, really sound bunch of guys.

I was due to work Blue Lightning in a singles match, and was looking forward to a nice, fast-paced ‘face-vs-‘face affair. It got changed on the day, though, so Blue & I ended up tagging, to face Jet Valentine and Shane Summers, which was very enjoyable too. Shane & Jet were great to work with, and Blue was a cool partner; aside from Lewis and Steve, I probably chatted to him the most while in TAW, and he’s a really nice guy. He’s the only person I’ve ever met who’s into parkour/free running, which I find very interesting. Under controlled circumstances, it’s something I’d love to try, myself, sometime! The match went well, despite a minor wardrobe malfunction on my part! Shane backdropped me onto the apron at one point, and my pants came down when he was guiding me to the apron with his arm—I should note that this was on the side of the ring that was facing the majority of the fans, so the potential for an international incident was heightened dramatically! Thankfully, I always wear base layer shorts (or ‘Under Armour’) under my wrestling gear, and they’re pretty much skin-tight, so what’s left of my dignity remained intact! It was a fun match, anyway, and the Blue Lightning/Bingo Ballance combo proved to be a winning one, as we put Jet away with a G-17 (from me), and Blue’s sweet Swanton bomb. Jeah!

I also took part in the Rumble match later on the show, which was… memorable, to say the least. The Rumble itself was grand, and was the usual standard fare. I got myself chucked out, and was lying on the floor, selling briefly, before heading to the back. For some reason, this former-wrestler-turned-valet went out of her way to walk over to me. She was heel, and I was ‘face, so I remained in character and told her to keep her distance. She kept approaching, so I told her to back off. She went to grab me, so I shoved her to the ground, and began strangling her, in full view of the shocked audience. A few TAW trainees, acting as security, came to drag me off, and usher me to the back, but I broke free, ran back, and resumed strangling her, and raining blows down on her. The trainees, this time, managed to prise me off her, and get me backstage, as an awed hush came over the crowd.

Ok. Heh heh. That’s not really what happened. Like the film ‘Clue’ (based on the board game Cluedo), which had several alternate endings, this is what REALLY happened… (Clue is a great film, by the way—very funny, indeed.)

I got chucked out, the valet walked over, I told her to keep her distance, and to back off. She shoved me hard, once I got to my feet. I pushed her back, and she slapped me pretty much full-force. I, in turn, slapped her back, though not nearly as hard. It was more to say “cop the fuck on to yourself, will you?” She was shocked, and pissed with the retaliation, and I just headed to the back. Later, after the show, and about 45 minutes later, she was walking around holding her face, with this pathetic hang-dog expression on it, moaning to everyone that “the Irish guy hit me.” I don’t champion violence against women, but if someone hits me, I’m gonna hit them back, regardless of the gender. If you can’t take it, don’t dish it out. I don’t know why she got involved in my business—we had nothing to do with each other earlier in the card, or in the Rumble, and it appeared that she was just trying to get herself over, for some reason, despite the fact that she was a heel, and just there to valet. We were chatting away earlier backstage, and got along well, so I really don’t know how it got to where it did, but shit happens. I regret that the incident happened, but I don’t regret doing what I did. The only thing I’d change is the trajectory of my slap, as it wasn’t the most accurate, and I think I caught her beside the nose; what can I say? I’m not used to hitting women!

Having spent the majority of the day getting along well with the TAW lads, I thought that the slap was gonna get me heat with them, and rule out any chance of coming back. Quite the opposite, actually. I got a few pats on the back, and high-fives, and the guys didn’t treat me any differently, which was a relief.

Backstage atmosphere is a major factor with me regarding bookings and so forth, and TAW’s was excellent. Definitely hope to head back there at some stage. The flight home from Luton was disastrous, delayed by four hours, for some reason. Whiling away the hours was irritating, and I was very glad to eventually get back home to Dublin, even if it was lashing rain!

Wrestling-wise, that was it for September which was, I believe, my least active month since February, unfortunately. It’s not for a lack of trying. I mentioned earlier that “the people” would be among the best and worst things in wrestling; well, one of the other “worst things” would be the process of sending off mails, applying for bookings. It is horrible, and soul-destroying, and is analogous to firing out CVs, looking for a job. The majority of the time, you don’t hear back from people, or you’ll get a “we’ll keep you in mind for future shows” kinda deal, which is the equivalent of “we’ll keep your CV on file.” As awful a process as it is—and it is awful—sometimes, it pays off, and is worth the hassle.

October was a more active month, and I shall deal with it in the next blog. Hopefully, I’ll have a bit more to write about next time! ‘Til then, take care.


Ballance