Post by Deleted on Sept 29, 2012 1:15:30 GMT -5
The 4 Seasons Arena in Great Falls, Montana was chaos incarnate as the Millennium Pro Wrestling crew prepared for the 8 p.m. start time for the house show. It was still several hours before the opening bell rang, but sound and lighting techs rushed through the labyrinth of hallways, shouting to one another. The noise of the ring crew assembling the ring in the main hall echoed throughout the building, bouncing off the concrete walls and exposed steel beams. The noise was enough to give anyone a splitting headache. Luckily, James Harlow had heard it all before.
As he walked through the crowded back hallway, stepping over cables and dodging harried MPW personnel, “The Hammer” realized how much he had truly missed being a professional wrestler. In the past eleven years since his retirement, he had attended a few autographs sessions, but not a single live event. He’d caught bits and pieces of WWE’s and TNA’s weekly shows, but he usually ended up flipping the channel to something else. Being at a show in person was a whole other experience. When those five thousand fans started filing in, the arena would turn into a beehive of excitement and anticipation.
For now, however, it was business as usual.
“Hey! Watch it, buddy!” one of the techs exclaimed as he turned the corner, a piece of electronic equipment in his hands. He sidestepped Harlow and hurried down the hallway, muttering to himself, barely avoiding several collisions.
Harlow shook his head, grinning wryly. Pro wrestling really couldn’t be compared to anything else in the entire world. Not even Hollywood. He had shot a couple of episodes of Walker, Texas Ranger and one direct-to-video action flick back in the day, and even those sets hadn’t been so hectic.
“Hey!” He waved a hand to catch someone’s attention. “Hey!”
“What?” asked one frazzled tech. Unlike the others, she didn’t have anything in her hands but a clipboard. She shifted nervously from one foot to the other, her eyes never staying focused on one thing for too long.
“The stairs,” Harlow said. “I need to get to the north balcony. I’m supposed to meet – shit! I forgot his name. Anyway, I’m supposed to cut a promo for this Monday.”
The woman froze. She blinked a couple of times and slowly looked him up and down, before one corner of her mouth turned upward in an amused grin. “You’re putting me on, right?”
“No, I’m booked on Monday Night Main Event.”
“You?”
The tone of her voice was starting to wear on Harlow’s patience. “Yeah, me. I’m James Harlow.”
The name obviously didn’t ring a bell. She shook her head and pointed down the hallway. “Fifty feet or so. You’ll see the signs.”
“The Hammer” bit off a curt thanks and continued down the hallway. It wasn’t exactly her fault that she didn’t know who he was. After all, just because someone was employed by a wrestling promotion didn’t necessarily mean that they were a wrestling fan. Besides, she probably hadn’t even been born when he was in his prime. That thought made him feel really old.
Jay Wyatt and a cameraman were waiting on him when he finally reached the north balcony. Climbing the stairs had caused his knees to start throbbing, but Harlow ignored them. The discomfort was going to pale in comparison to the pain he felt after Monday’s show. He was pretty sure that it was going to be a Hydrocodone kind of night.
“How’s it going?” Jay asked, sticking out a hand. “Jay Wyatt.”
“James Harlow,” he said, accepting the handshake.
“Let me just say, Mr. Harlow, that it is a pleasure. I’m a huge fan.”
“The Hammer” grinned. He couldn’t prove it, but he was pretty sure the kid hadn’t even known who he was before MPW had signed him to the active roster. Much like the tech in the hallway, it wasn’t really Jay’s fault that Harlow’s glory days had ended around ’95 or ’96. “Thanks, Jay. Call me James. Or The Hammer. Mr. Harlow makes me feel old.”
“James it is.”
“So, where are we going to do this, Jay?”
Wyatt blinked, looking vaguely confused. He glanced at the cameraman, who shrugged. “Umm, it’s up to you, Mr. – I mean, James.”
Harlow sighed and looked around. The northern balcony overlooked the main floor of the arena, affording a perfect view of the ring being assembled. It also put into perspective how big the 4 Seasons Arena actually was. “Let’s do it here.”
“Sounds good,” Wyatt said, beaming. “Let us know when you want to begin.”
The scene opened up, focusing on Jay Wyatt, who stood with his back to the railing that overlooked the main floor of the 4 Seasons Arena. Dressed in a navy blue sport coat, pinstriped tie, and white button-down, the young man looked incredibly professional. “Ladies and gentlemen, at this time it is my extreme pleasure to introduce to you a true legend in the sport of professional wrestling, James ‘The Hammer’ Harlow.”
The camera pulled back to reveal “The Hammer” standing next to Wyatt, grinning confidently and rubbing his hands together. He looked less like a pro wrestler and more like an aging rocker in his faded blue jeans, Mandalay Bay Resort & Casino t-shirt, and black leather jacket. His flowing dark blond hair had been pulled back into a ponytail that hung to his shoulder blades. On the outside he might have looked confident – maybe even a little cocky – but the butterflies in his stomach had turned into dive bombers. After more than a decade, he was back.
“So, Hammer, after Monday night the fans want to know: what made you decide to come out of retirement? And why do it in Millennium Pro Wrestling?”
“Well, Jay, it’s really quite simple; it was time.” He smiled. “Since I decided to step out of the ring back in 2001, I’ve had a lot of time to think. As I crisscrossed the US on my Harley, doing personal appearances and signing autographs, the fans would come up to me and ask, ‘Hammer, when are you coming back?’ or ‘Why did you retire?’”
He shook his head. “Unless you’re in this business, it’s hard to understand the kind of beating our bodies take day in and day out. From day one, a wrestler ceases being completely healthy. Whether it’s broken bones, torn tendons, or just simple bruises, we’re always performing in pain. After twenty-three years in this business of going nonstop, I just needed a break. A chance to recharge my batteries. So, whenever someone would ask me one of those kinds of questions, I’d just tell them that it was my time to step aside.”
“But you’ve been gone for eleven years,” Wyatt said. “What prompted you to come back now?”
“Like I said, I needed a break.” He chuckled. “I think eleven years is long enough.”
“Why MPW?”
Harlow scratched his chin, a habit that he had gotten into after growing a Van Dyke beard. “Millennium Pro Wrestling. Kind of catchy.” He grinned. “Even though I was retired, pro wrestling was still in my blood, Jay. And right up until the day that I die, that’s never going to change. You want to know why I chose MPW? It’s because MPW has something that the other companies don’t have: heart. WWE isn’t pro wrestling; it’s sports entertainment.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “I hate that term. MPW has the best wrestlers in the world today, bar none. When I decided to step back into the squared circle, there really wasn’t any other choice.”
Wyatt cleared his throat. “Speaking of stepping back into the squared circle, you did that Monday night, but it wasn’t to wrestle. Why did you come out and confront Rage?”
“Rage? Oh, you mean Ryan Stiles.” He grinned again, but this time it wasn’t pleasant. “Not a lot of today’s fans know this, but I was the one that trained Rage, and got him into this business. We had a pretty nasty falling out right before I retired, so I thought I’d just come on out Main Event and bury the hatchet. So to speak.”
“Umm, you chose to do that with a slap to the face?”
“What can I say, Jay? I do things a little differently,” he responded with a chuckle.
“What happens if Rage decides to retaliate?”
Harlow sighed. “Look, I’m not here today to talk about the past or my ex-protégé. I’m here to talk about the future.”
“That’s right,” Wyatt said, taking the cue. “You have a match scheduled on this Monday’s Main Event against the MPW North American Champion, Bliss.”
“The Hammer” nodded and looked around as if trying to gather his thoughts. “Bliss,” he finally said. “MPW’s North American Champion.”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Some guys in this business would consider being booked to wrestle a woman in their debut match as kind of an insult. But not me.” His blue-gray eyes cut to the camera. “Obviously, Bliss, you’ve done all right for yourself here in MPW. After all, the North American title wasn’t just handed over to you for looking pretty. I learned a long time ago never to underestimate my opponent . . . no matter how unassuming and harmless they might appear to be.”
“Well, MPW fans know that Bliss is anything but harmless,” Wyatt added.
“My point exactly, Jay. Ever hear of Gina Carano?”
“The mixed martial arts fighter.”
“One and the same. You can’t tell me that Gina couldn’t stomp some banjo-picking redneck’s ass into the ground if he tried to prove how much of a man he was.” He chuckled. “Bliss looks like she’s cut from that same cloth. Hot as summertime in Philly on the outside and hard as stone on the inside.”
“So, you’re not bothered by having to face a woman?”
“What did I just say? Being booked to wrestle the North American champion, even if it is a non-title match, is an honor. On the other hand, I was raised to respect women. The thought of planting Bliss in the center of the ring and covering her for a three count . . . well, it is only going to cement my place here in MPW. Just think what kind of statement that would be: pinning the North American champion in my first match back.”
“What about Kurt Newman?”
“Who?”
“Kurt Newman. The referee for your match. He and Bliss have been feuding. In fact, they are scheduled to face each other at the After Shock pay-per-view.”
Harlow exhaled loudly. “If he knows what’s good for him, Newman will do the job that he’s being paid to do. Monday night he isn’t a wrestler; he’s a referee. I hope he’ll remember that.”
“Do you think his presence will influence the outcome?”
“The only thing he is supposed to do is enforce the rules and count one, two, three. That’s it. I don’t care about what ever beef he has with Bliss. I’m not going to let my MPW debut match be ruined because someone can’t be a professional. Win or lose, I want it to be fair and square. I don’t want the match tainted.”
“Do you have any final words for Bliss?”
“Bliss, you’ve got a fight on your hands come Monday night. The twelve thousand fans that cram themselves into the Mandalay Bay Events Center deserve a show, and that’s exactly what they’re going to get. You’ve got youth; I’ve got experience. Like I said, I’m not overlooking your skills, so honey, I’m warning you . . . don’t overlook mine. I made a career out of overcoming the odds and I can’t think of a better place to do that than in Vegas.” He grinned. “It’s nothing personal, Bliss, but I’m not going to take it easy on you just because you’re a woman. When that bell rings, you’re just another opponent.”
Wyatt gestured for the cameraman to cut as he smiled and nodded at Harlow. “Nice job.”
“Thanks,” he replied with a chuckle. “I’m still a little rusty, but I’ll get the hang of it again.”
“So, what do you really think about having to wrestle Bliss?”
“Honestly, it’s just like I said. It’s an honor that the MPW heads think so highly of me.”
“But it’s a lot more pleasant than wrestling Bob Herman again, huh?”
Harlow laughed and cuffed Wyatt on the shoulder. “You can say that again, buddy.”
{James “The Hammer” Harlow vs. Bliss – Booked Oct. 1, 2012 – Monday Night Main Event}
As he walked through the crowded back hallway, stepping over cables and dodging harried MPW personnel, “The Hammer” realized how much he had truly missed being a professional wrestler. In the past eleven years since his retirement, he had attended a few autographs sessions, but not a single live event. He’d caught bits and pieces of WWE’s and TNA’s weekly shows, but he usually ended up flipping the channel to something else. Being at a show in person was a whole other experience. When those five thousand fans started filing in, the arena would turn into a beehive of excitement and anticipation.
For now, however, it was business as usual.
“Hey! Watch it, buddy!” one of the techs exclaimed as he turned the corner, a piece of electronic equipment in his hands. He sidestepped Harlow and hurried down the hallway, muttering to himself, barely avoiding several collisions.
Harlow shook his head, grinning wryly. Pro wrestling really couldn’t be compared to anything else in the entire world. Not even Hollywood. He had shot a couple of episodes of Walker, Texas Ranger and one direct-to-video action flick back in the day, and even those sets hadn’t been so hectic.
“Hey!” He waved a hand to catch someone’s attention. “Hey!”
“What?” asked one frazzled tech. Unlike the others, she didn’t have anything in her hands but a clipboard. She shifted nervously from one foot to the other, her eyes never staying focused on one thing for too long.
“The stairs,” Harlow said. “I need to get to the north balcony. I’m supposed to meet – shit! I forgot his name. Anyway, I’m supposed to cut a promo for this Monday.”
The woman froze. She blinked a couple of times and slowly looked him up and down, before one corner of her mouth turned upward in an amused grin. “You’re putting me on, right?”
“No, I’m booked on Monday Night Main Event.”
“You?”
The tone of her voice was starting to wear on Harlow’s patience. “Yeah, me. I’m James Harlow.”
The name obviously didn’t ring a bell. She shook her head and pointed down the hallway. “Fifty feet or so. You’ll see the signs.”
“The Hammer” bit off a curt thanks and continued down the hallway. It wasn’t exactly her fault that she didn’t know who he was. After all, just because someone was employed by a wrestling promotion didn’t necessarily mean that they were a wrestling fan. Besides, she probably hadn’t even been born when he was in his prime. That thought made him feel really old.
Jay Wyatt and a cameraman were waiting on him when he finally reached the north balcony. Climbing the stairs had caused his knees to start throbbing, but Harlow ignored them. The discomfort was going to pale in comparison to the pain he felt after Monday’s show. He was pretty sure that it was going to be a Hydrocodone kind of night.
“How’s it going?” Jay asked, sticking out a hand. “Jay Wyatt.”
“James Harlow,” he said, accepting the handshake.
“Let me just say, Mr. Harlow, that it is a pleasure. I’m a huge fan.”
“The Hammer” grinned. He couldn’t prove it, but he was pretty sure the kid hadn’t even known who he was before MPW had signed him to the active roster. Much like the tech in the hallway, it wasn’t really Jay’s fault that Harlow’s glory days had ended around ’95 or ’96. “Thanks, Jay. Call me James. Or The Hammer. Mr. Harlow makes me feel old.”
“James it is.”
“So, where are we going to do this, Jay?”
Wyatt blinked, looking vaguely confused. He glanced at the cameraman, who shrugged. “Umm, it’s up to you, Mr. – I mean, James.”
Harlow sighed and looked around. The northern balcony overlooked the main floor of the arena, affording a perfect view of the ring being assembled. It also put into perspective how big the 4 Seasons Arena actually was. “Let’s do it here.”
“Sounds good,” Wyatt said, beaming. “Let us know when you want to begin.”
The scene opened up, focusing on Jay Wyatt, who stood with his back to the railing that overlooked the main floor of the 4 Seasons Arena. Dressed in a navy blue sport coat, pinstriped tie, and white button-down, the young man looked incredibly professional. “Ladies and gentlemen, at this time it is my extreme pleasure to introduce to you a true legend in the sport of professional wrestling, James ‘The Hammer’ Harlow.”
The camera pulled back to reveal “The Hammer” standing next to Wyatt, grinning confidently and rubbing his hands together. He looked less like a pro wrestler and more like an aging rocker in his faded blue jeans, Mandalay Bay Resort & Casino t-shirt, and black leather jacket. His flowing dark blond hair had been pulled back into a ponytail that hung to his shoulder blades. On the outside he might have looked confident – maybe even a little cocky – but the butterflies in his stomach had turned into dive bombers. After more than a decade, he was back.
“So, Hammer, after Monday night the fans want to know: what made you decide to come out of retirement? And why do it in Millennium Pro Wrestling?”
“Well, Jay, it’s really quite simple; it was time.” He smiled. “Since I decided to step out of the ring back in 2001, I’ve had a lot of time to think. As I crisscrossed the US on my Harley, doing personal appearances and signing autographs, the fans would come up to me and ask, ‘Hammer, when are you coming back?’ or ‘Why did you retire?’”
He shook his head. “Unless you’re in this business, it’s hard to understand the kind of beating our bodies take day in and day out. From day one, a wrestler ceases being completely healthy. Whether it’s broken bones, torn tendons, or just simple bruises, we’re always performing in pain. After twenty-three years in this business of going nonstop, I just needed a break. A chance to recharge my batteries. So, whenever someone would ask me one of those kinds of questions, I’d just tell them that it was my time to step aside.”
“But you’ve been gone for eleven years,” Wyatt said. “What prompted you to come back now?”
“Like I said, I needed a break.” He chuckled. “I think eleven years is long enough.”
“Why MPW?”
Harlow scratched his chin, a habit that he had gotten into after growing a Van Dyke beard. “Millennium Pro Wrestling. Kind of catchy.” He grinned. “Even though I was retired, pro wrestling was still in my blood, Jay. And right up until the day that I die, that’s never going to change. You want to know why I chose MPW? It’s because MPW has something that the other companies don’t have: heart. WWE isn’t pro wrestling; it’s sports entertainment.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “I hate that term. MPW has the best wrestlers in the world today, bar none. When I decided to step back into the squared circle, there really wasn’t any other choice.”
Wyatt cleared his throat. “Speaking of stepping back into the squared circle, you did that Monday night, but it wasn’t to wrestle. Why did you come out and confront Rage?”
“Rage? Oh, you mean Ryan Stiles.” He grinned again, but this time it wasn’t pleasant. “Not a lot of today’s fans know this, but I was the one that trained Rage, and got him into this business. We had a pretty nasty falling out right before I retired, so I thought I’d just come on out Main Event and bury the hatchet. So to speak.”
“Umm, you chose to do that with a slap to the face?”
“What can I say, Jay? I do things a little differently,” he responded with a chuckle.
“What happens if Rage decides to retaliate?”
Harlow sighed. “Look, I’m not here today to talk about the past or my ex-protégé. I’m here to talk about the future.”
“That’s right,” Wyatt said, taking the cue. “You have a match scheduled on this Monday’s Main Event against the MPW North American Champion, Bliss.”
“The Hammer” nodded and looked around as if trying to gather his thoughts. “Bliss,” he finally said. “MPW’s North American Champion.”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Some guys in this business would consider being booked to wrestle a woman in their debut match as kind of an insult. But not me.” His blue-gray eyes cut to the camera. “Obviously, Bliss, you’ve done all right for yourself here in MPW. After all, the North American title wasn’t just handed over to you for looking pretty. I learned a long time ago never to underestimate my opponent . . . no matter how unassuming and harmless they might appear to be.”
“Well, MPW fans know that Bliss is anything but harmless,” Wyatt added.
“My point exactly, Jay. Ever hear of Gina Carano?”
“The mixed martial arts fighter.”
“One and the same. You can’t tell me that Gina couldn’t stomp some banjo-picking redneck’s ass into the ground if he tried to prove how much of a man he was.” He chuckled. “Bliss looks like she’s cut from that same cloth. Hot as summertime in Philly on the outside and hard as stone on the inside.”
“So, you’re not bothered by having to face a woman?”
“What did I just say? Being booked to wrestle the North American champion, even if it is a non-title match, is an honor. On the other hand, I was raised to respect women. The thought of planting Bliss in the center of the ring and covering her for a three count . . . well, it is only going to cement my place here in MPW. Just think what kind of statement that would be: pinning the North American champion in my first match back.”
“What about Kurt Newman?”
“Who?”
“Kurt Newman. The referee for your match. He and Bliss have been feuding. In fact, they are scheduled to face each other at the After Shock pay-per-view.”
Harlow exhaled loudly. “If he knows what’s good for him, Newman will do the job that he’s being paid to do. Monday night he isn’t a wrestler; he’s a referee. I hope he’ll remember that.”
“Do you think his presence will influence the outcome?”
“The only thing he is supposed to do is enforce the rules and count one, two, three. That’s it. I don’t care about what ever beef he has with Bliss. I’m not going to let my MPW debut match be ruined because someone can’t be a professional. Win or lose, I want it to be fair and square. I don’t want the match tainted.”
“Do you have any final words for Bliss?”
“Bliss, you’ve got a fight on your hands come Monday night. The twelve thousand fans that cram themselves into the Mandalay Bay Events Center deserve a show, and that’s exactly what they’re going to get. You’ve got youth; I’ve got experience. Like I said, I’m not overlooking your skills, so honey, I’m warning you . . . don’t overlook mine. I made a career out of overcoming the odds and I can’t think of a better place to do that than in Vegas.” He grinned. “It’s nothing personal, Bliss, but I’m not going to take it easy on you just because you’re a woman. When that bell rings, you’re just another opponent.”
Wyatt gestured for the cameraman to cut as he smiled and nodded at Harlow. “Nice job.”
“Thanks,” he replied with a chuckle. “I’m still a little rusty, but I’ll get the hang of it again.”
“So, what do you really think about having to wrestle Bliss?”
“Honestly, it’s just like I said. It’s an honor that the MPW heads think so highly of me.”
“But it’s a lot more pleasant than wrestling Bob Herman again, huh?”
Harlow laughed and cuffed Wyatt on the shoulder. “You can say that again, buddy.”
{James “The Hammer” Harlow vs. Bliss – Booked Oct. 1, 2012 – Monday Night Main Event}