The Rise and Fall of an Underdog #38
December 11, 2009
By: AJ Pearce of WrestleView.com
Welcome once again to ?The Rise and Fall of an Underdog? and Jake’s story of his journey into the world of professional wrestling. As always you can contact me at aj.wrestleview@yahoo.com with any comments or questions. Thanks for reading and enjoy!
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Chapter 30
Jake was in agony. He lay in bed, writhing around the sweat soaked sheets. He held his back and curled up in a foetal position. It was the middle of the night so he tried not to scream out in pain but it was too much. He buried his face into the pillow and let out a strained grunt that made the veins in his neck pop out and his eyes water. He didn?t know what to do. He had been to the hospital once already when he fractured his wrist and he was still paying for that one. He hadn?t organised any insurance for this trip and any treatment he received would leave him with a hefty bill. He had to do something though or he would never make it through the last couple of matches of the junior heavyweight tournament.
He gingerly swung his feet out of the bed and walked to the bathroom. Every step hurt and Jake felt more helpless than he had in a long time. His neck injury had been bad, and the recuperation process even worse, but he couldn?t see past the agony he was in now. He opened the medicine cabinet and reached for the only relief he could find; painkillers. Jake knew the dangers of addiction and understood the slippery slope that so many fellow wrestlers had found themselves on through painkillers. But right now he didn?t care! He popped a few more, washing them down with the remainder of a bottle of beer, and made the agonizing six foot walk to his bed and hopefully some sleep.
The next day was the longest of Jake’s life. There was no way he could work out or train, and there was certainly no way he could lay in bed, so he made his way to the venue early and just waited for his match. Sitting in a chair hurt too much so Jake wandered the building looking for someone to talk to or something, anything, to do. Normally the arena was a bustling hub of activity. At 8am though it was dead to the world and Jake was alone. He decided to go for a walk and work out some ideas for his match tonight. Despite the agony he was in, the show must go on.
Jake grabbed a coffee and a cake that resembled a cross between a Twinkie and a turd. Either way it served the purpose. Walking the streets of Tokyo, Jake thought about the matches he had already had in the junior heavyweight tournament and critiqued them over and over in his head. The first match had been against the masked ?Supertron? who was actually called Frank and was from Canada. It seemed to Jake that the office wanted to eliminate as man gaijins from he tournament early on as they could. It had been a decent match. Supertron worked a luchador style and they had worked in some great high spots. They had looked great but Jake was sure where the pain in his back had begun. The rings were much stiffer than Jake was used to and after taking a huricanrana from the top rope, he had felt something twinge in his lower back. And this was only match number one.
Matches two and three were on the same day; another fact which Jake was sure hadn?t helped the pain he was in now. Match two had been against a young Japanese wrestler named Suzuki Tomiyama. Jake had met him a few times before and was surprised by how good his English was. Turns out his mother was from England and had moved to Japan during university. Suzuki was eager to speak to Jake and his proficiently in the language certainly helped their match. Jake called it on the fly and they did some amazing things. Suzuki was more of a mat wrestler and he worked in some amazing chain moves. But Jake as usual was the high flier and won the match with a bit of a wobbly 450 splash. The far from perfect landing sent tingly pains down his legs which he shook off as he celebrated in the ring.
Match three unfortunately was totally forgettable. It was with a fat lump of a man called the ?Kuma? which meant bear. But Jake thought he looked more like the ?Kama? which Jake’s recent lessons in Japanese animal names let him know met hippopotamus. Jake chuckled about this the whole way through he match. This could have been a contributing factor to Jake forgetting the layout of the match and botching the finish. He had never done his before and he really beat himself up over it. After the match he headed to the gym and made himself do 500 Hindu squats as a personal punishment for his stupidity; another contributing factor t his current state for sure.
Match four had been a better affair and had come off without a hitch; except for the little hitch of Jake’s post match numbness. He wriggled his toes and tried to brush of the tingle he felt in the big toes and the lack of feeling he had in the little ones. He was starting to worry. So much so that he actually talked to one of the trainers about it. The trainer simply grunted at Jake and took him to the changing rooms. He reached into his locker and pulled out a syringe. He grunted for Jake to lift his shirt as he mumbled ?Cortisone! Good!? He jabbed the needle into Jake’s lower back before he could say anything and then was gone. Jake felt better almost immediately. He actually felt good. Too good. Jake hadn?t really wanted the shot but now, as he wandered the streets of Tokyo n the early morning, all he could think about was how he could get another.
It turned out to be easy enough to get another in the end. He simply mentioned it to the same trainer as he arrived back at the arena and the trainer was more than happy to jab Jake in the back again. Jake guessed that the trainer was just as worried as he was about Jake pulling off a good match tonight. It was all about the company in the end. And Jake didn?t disappoint. In his penultimate match of the tournament he tore the roof of f the place. With his newfound strength in his back he did moves that he hadn?t done since he first started out working for the Crusher. Springboard moonsaults into head scissors, frog splashes to the arena floor and he highest, furthest superplexes he had ever done. His opponent had been amazing at putting Jake over and he showed his appreciation to him at the bar afterwards. They drank and sang karaoke all night and into the morning. And as Jake sauntered home to his miniscule apartment he was hit with a stabbing pain that sent him to his knees. He got up as quickly as he could, brushed himself off, and hobbled back home. The pain was back and worse than before. Jake just couldn?t take it anymore. ?One more match? he kept telling himself. And only twelve hours until Alana arrived. Jake knew that he couldn?t pick her up in this present state. So he would head to the arena first, get the shot he needed and then pick up the woman he loved. He was starting to worry about himself, about what he was doing to his body. He didn?t worry too much though. He just tried to get some sleep and he had a big day ahead of him. And it was all about the company after all.
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