Technical

You arrived backstage from the hotel just in time to hear that you wouldn’t be on TV this week. Shit, you thought. I know I’m one of the best mat wrestlers Vince has got right now, why am I being wasted like this? Your annoyance was soon replaced by the excitement of the backstage area. People were milling about, grabbing a bite to eat, running camera cables, and checking the lighting for the fortieth time. Looking at the night’s card posted on the wall just to be absolutely sure you wouldn’t be wrestling tonight, after all, you headed out into the empty arena. As you watched the crew assemble the ring, your blood boiled. You didn’t come to the main roster to shoot the shit with the very guys you wanted to be testing your mettle against in the ring.

With nothing better to do, you began limbering up right where you stood, just a few yards down the rampway. You rolled your shoulders and mimicked putting a hammerlock on an invisible opponent. You swept an imaginary leg and cinched in a Kamora lock. Anticipating an unlikely escape, you gator-rolled and mimed a perfect cross-face. Bridging over, you knit your knuckles together as if slapping an ankle-lock for the win. You then sat down and stretched your legs, working the hamstrings to keep them strong and flexible. You flexed your torso back into a neck-bridge, your head and toes holding your weight. Trying to hold your position as long as possible, you didn’t notice the figure approach.

“Hey, Rebound want to practice an interview? I’ve got nothing to do for a while” Looking up you, spotted the cherubic face of Renee Young. To be honest with yourself you’ve always had a bit of a crush on the Canadian girl-next-door. Her smile was intoxicating as you righted yourself, swiftly finding your footing.

“Sure, thing!” You said, hoping your goofy grin didn’t look unprofessional or betray the small flame you were holding for Renee. “What should I say?”

“Just take it naturally, hot stuff”. Laughed Renee with a wink. Adjusting her stance and clearing her throat Renee took on her journalistic persona. “So, {Ringname}, what do you think your chances are at the Royal Rumble? There will be several giants in the match this year. Big Show and Kane are both 7’0”, Braun Strowman, Erik Rowan and Baron Corbin and all 6’8”, and you never know when Undertaker or the Great Khali might show up.”

You chuckled and shrugged, “Well, I’m 6'1" I don’t think that’s too shabby.”

Renee let out a bubbling laugh and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’ll probably want to add about 2 inches to that, practically all the other guys do. But more importantly, you’re not being assertive. Even if your character is a kind-hearted babyface, unless you make the audience believe you believe in yourself and what you’re saying, you’ll never get over.”

Renee rubbed you on the shoulder, sending a little, excited zing down to the pit of your stomach. Am I a WWE superstar or an underclassman at prom with a cheerleader? You asked yourself.

“Look,” said Renee taking her soft, warm hand from your bare skin. “Try it again, but really show me that you mean what you say. If you do as great as I think you will, I’ll find a way to get this on air.”