Post by James Gilmore on Nov 10, 2018 7:46:22 GMT
”THE TIDAL WAVE”
~Issue #1: “In The Beginning, Part I”~
NOVEMBER 10, 2018
Written by
JAMES GILMORE
=====
For the first time in seven years, James Gilmore takes you back to his deepest roots, back to the very point of his life where his undying love of professional wrestling began. A prolific columnist that worked freelance in various independent promotions around the world including the defunct Premiere Wrestling Alliance, Mr. Gilmore--under his former pen name “Johnny Gillmen”--went where no other columnist had gone before, going behind the scenes to get inside the minds of the wrestlers and analyzing the stories that were being told from his own perspective.
The Tidal Wave is a brand-new series of columns that wiil be a raw, real, and uncensored take on Mr. Gilmore’s life in and out of the ring. The first three issues of the series, under the collective title In The Beginning,” will focus on his development in the wrestling business, from his behind-the-scenes beginnings to his current IWF run. In part one, he shares his utmost feelings about how he is perceived in the business by others; plus he will give you--the fans--an insight into his early life until his initial leap into the squared circle.
Please note that the opinions expressed by Mr. Gilmore do not, in any way, reflect the views of the Imperial Wrestling Federation and its many employees.
It’s been a long time coming since I did one of these things.
It’s been a long time since I spoke to you not as, say, as the guy with the beach going, ship cruising, cowabunga-dude gimmick, but as the man behind the surfboard--the man with only a scruffy look and a boatload of scars that showcase my roughest and toughest battles.
Not just in wrestling, but in life itself.
This is the first shoot column I’ve written since the summer of 2011, and frankly, I’m at a loss for words on what to think. I can’t begin to describe how it feels to sit back down, put words to a Google Document, and talk candidly about the very business I love more than anything else in my adult life with the possible except of game shows like Wheel of Fortune or The Price is Right. Yet here I am, in 2018, returning to the very craft I plied before I transitioned to working in a ring.
The purpose of this column, and of my in-ring work, is all one in the same.
To do more than, say, be a guy that gets people fired up on all sides.
All I ever wanted to do in my life, from writing columns to wrestling in big-time matches, is make it fun and exciting for everyone and not just myself. I always wanted to bring smiles, joy, and laughter to people’s faces every time I walk out my front door and face a cold, dark, and cruel world around me. Yet I know that sometimes, things don’t go the way I want them to go. Sometimes I find myself lashing out at a situation that, perhaps, should have been handled better and all that jazz.
When that happens, I get mean. I get very nasty and vicious.
And I say things that, honestly, I should never say.
Let me make one thing clear: what I’m about to say is, in my own words, perhaps the cruelest and most unforgiving part of professional wrestling today, yet also the best and most enrichingpart. It doesn’t involve having boots planted up your ass, getting set on fire, getting bashed over the skull with chairs or cookie sheets, or being thrown around like a rag doll for the sake of entertainment.
It involves how people perceive themselves and, on a grander scale, how they are perceived by others in the business.
As hard as it is to say, aside from a few exceptions, there are those that choose to manufacture certain perceptions about others that they want everyone in the company to accept as gospel. To those who have trolled me, busted my balls, and nitpicked my abilities on a daily basis, I’m their personal punching bag. I’m something that should be exterminated at all costs.
They point at me. They giggle behind my back. They stick their tongues out and go “pffft, you suck!”
They even call me a untrained, unprofessional piece of shit for calling THEM out on something I don't like! I tried really hard--and I mean REALLY hard--to take up for a colleague of mine who was being bashed by another wrestler because of his sexual preference. The other guy runs away to the Cave of Wonders like a prison snitch, and...well, I get MY butt totally destroyed!
Seriously, it's not okay to totally trash, malign, and flat-out judge people based upon their choices so long as the target ain't yours truly, but if I'm involved somehow, I'm fair game because I interfere with their little world that would rather make me look like Donkey Kong in diapers, with their mob mentality that one side is good and the other evil?!
Not to mention a female wrestler, a three-year veteran of this business, got squashed after being lit on fire, yet all I hear is that this company profits from evil!?! There's no fun and joy in throwing blood money in our faces as innocents become nothing more than roasted marshmellows!
As the ESPN guys would say: "C'MON MAN!!"
Those that troll her, me, and others that don't share their views will only snicker and say "ohh, but that's the risk you take playing the game!" The truth is, I don’t want to “hate” them by any stretch. but I find myself wondering whether or not it’s even worth it for me to be in the gig after watching that disgusting act on a monitor, whether I should just run away like a cowardly lion as if I'm not "strong" enough physically and, thus, don’t even deserve to be in wrestling much less live a fruitful and prosperous life.
That’s not a good thing for me to think about, right?!
Well I think about it all the time--and it hurts me. It really does.
On the other hand, I realize that, perhaps, I might be wrong about the whole thing about the naysayers, and in that case, I probably won't be able to find a way to process it without going apeshit! I regularly have a hard time thinking that, perhaps, there are those that truly care about what I do and want me to succeed. Yet I have moments when I find myself having zero clue on who else to trust, who else to talk to, who else to share my deepest, most intimate thoughts aside from my fiancee Yulia, or even share a laugh or sing songs with people other than, say, Fiona.
I simply do not know anymore, but I say--right here, right now--to those who’ve given me shit and laughed at my misfortunes, is “keep it up.”
Keep calling me outspoken. Keep calling me maverick.
Keep calling me a blowhard. Keep calling me a clown.
Hell, you can keep on calling me high on drugs!
None of these labels will matter to me, because I’m not backing down from anyone that tells me “no, you can’t do this or that.” That’s now how I operate as a sports entertainer who carries a patriotic surfboard to the ring. That’s not how I am as a living, breathing person that only wants to be able to pay the bills and be able to travel all over the planet. I’ve spent my entire life--from childhood to the present day--doing things that many others thought would be impossible for me to do, given how I only have but one good eye, a pudgy frame, and a brain that’s not as sharp as other people’s.
That’s not to say I’m perfect in other avenues--because I’m not nor will I ever strive to attain perfection.
If I did something stupid like that, I’d be in “a world of shit” as Private Pyle said in Full Metal Jacket.
I didn’t make the honor roll when I was going through compulsory education. I didn’t make the Dean’s List at my alma mater, Texas A&M University-Corpus Christi. I never was the best athlete in gym class--you know, that guy who can run a mile in under eight minutes. I never was the top-ranking student in my classes, flunking the weekly quiz on several occasions; yet that never stopped me from putting my foot down and working my butt off so that, one day, I could be that success story that we all tend to see played out on our TV screens. Eventually, I chose to become a writer after I got my B.A., and while chronicling a fellow by the name of John Wayne Mathias Gaither--a.k.a. ”Jack”--during a 2010 Premiere Wrestling Alliance Pacific Tour, I wrote a bio-book called The Golden Road.
It was his life story, about his desire to get better in a wrestling business that’s as bitterly cold and utterly cruel as the outside world we live in.
Yet talking about Jack Gaither now is a reminder to me that we all are living on borrowed time, that we're not able to escape death's clutches.
The holiday season is fast approaching, and it will be nearly a year since he died. Every time I get into that ring, I think of him; to thid day, I'm still in tears remembering all stories he told me about the training, the matches, and the bad jokes he played on his colleagues. Not a single day goes by when I don't wake up every morning, close my eyes, and thank the Heavenly Father for letting Jack into my life.
My only wish, now and forever, is to make him proud someday.
That, right there, is the true reason why I decided to get into wrestling.
I was so blessed to be at his side throughout the entire trip. I got to spend that entire summer in the Far East and Oceania, traveling from Tokyo and Beijing to Sydney and Auckland. I got to meet people from all walks of life, of varying races and ideologies. I got to meet the stars of the old PWA and even work alongside its commentary team, but in the process I picked up something that would be far bigger than anything else I had ever done.
An unbridled passion for professional wrestling, one that stuck with me ever since that tour.
At that moment, the ideal of “dare to dream” was born.
In order for that to grow into fruition, I had to get into shape and learn to avoid getting my ass killed.
Or as Jack would to say to me, quoting from my favorite flick, I have but one choice in this world: "get busy livin', or get busy dyin'."
Next month, part two of “In The Beginning” will focus on James Gilmore’s first foray into professional wrestling, including his tag-team title run in the now-defunct St. Louis-based promotion Redemption Wrestling, and his decision to join the Imperial Wrestling Federation in 2016.
~Issue #1: “In The Beginning, Part I”~
NOVEMBER 10, 2018
Written by
JAMES GILMORE
=====
For the first time in seven years, James Gilmore takes you back to his deepest roots, back to the very point of his life where his undying love of professional wrestling began. A prolific columnist that worked freelance in various independent promotions around the world including the defunct Premiere Wrestling Alliance, Mr. Gilmore--under his former pen name “Johnny Gillmen”--went where no other columnist had gone before, going behind the scenes to get inside the minds of the wrestlers and analyzing the stories that were being told from his own perspective.
The Tidal Wave is a brand-new series of columns that wiil be a raw, real, and uncensored take on Mr. Gilmore’s life in and out of the ring. The first three issues of the series, under the collective title In The Beginning,” will focus on his development in the wrestling business, from his behind-the-scenes beginnings to his current IWF run. In part one, he shares his utmost feelings about how he is perceived in the business by others; plus he will give you--the fans--an insight into his early life until his initial leap into the squared circle.
Please note that the opinions expressed by Mr. Gilmore do not, in any way, reflect the views of the Imperial Wrestling Federation and its many employees.
It’s been a long time coming since I did one of these things.
It’s been a long time since I spoke to you not as, say, as the guy with the beach going, ship cruising, cowabunga-dude gimmick, but as the man behind the surfboard--the man with only a scruffy look and a boatload of scars that showcase my roughest and toughest battles.
Not just in wrestling, but in life itself.
This is the first shoot column I’ve written since the summer of 2011, and frankly, I’m at a loss for words on what to think. I can’t begin to describe how it feels to sit back down, put words to a Google Document, and talk candidly about the very business I love more than anything else in my adult life with the possible except of game shows like Wheel of Fortune or The Price is Right. Yet here I am, in 2018, returning to the very craft I plied before I transitioned to working in a ring.
The purpose of this column, and of my in-ring work, is all one in the same.
To do more than, say, be a guy that gets people fired up on all sides.
All I ever wanted to do in my life, from writing columns to wrestling in big-time matches, is make it fun and exciting for everyone and not just myself. I always wanted to bring smiles, joy, and laughter to people’s faces every time I walk out my front door and face a cold, dark, and cruel world around me. Yet I know that sometimes, things don’t go the way I want them to go. Sometimes I find myself lashing out at a situation that, perhaps, should have been handled better and all that jazz.
When that happens, I get mean. I get very nasty and vicious.
And I say things that, honestly, I should never say.
Let me make one thing clear: what I’m about to say is, in my own words, perhaps the cruelest and most unforgiving part of professional wrestling today, yet also the best and most enrichingpart. It doesn’t involve having boots planted up your ass, getting set on fire, getting bashed over the skull with chairs or cookie sheets, or being thrown around like a rag doll for the sake of entertainment.
It involves how people perceive themselves and, on a grander scale, how they are perceived by others in the business.
As hard as it is to say, aside from a few exceptions, there are those that choose to manufacture certain perceptions about others that they want everyone in the company to accept as gospel. To those who have trolled me, busted my balls, and nitpicked my abilities on a daily basis, I’m their personal punching bag. I’m something that should be exterminated at all costs.
They point at me. They giggle behind my back. They stick their tongues out and go “pffft, you suck!”
They even call me a untrained, unprofessional piece of shit for calling THEM out on something I don't like! I tried really hard--and I mean REALLY hard--to take up for a colleague of mine who was being bashed by another wrestler because of his sexual preference. The other guy runs away to the Cave of Wonders like a prison snitch, and...well, I get MY butt totally destroyed!
Seriously, it's not okay to totally trash, malign, and flat-out judge people based upon their choices so long as the target ain't yours truly, but if I'm involved somehow, I'm fair game because I interfere with their little world that would rather make me look like Donkey Kong in diapers, with their mob mentality that one side is good and the other evil?!
Not to mention a female wrestler, a three-year veteran of this business, got squashed after being lit on fire, yet all I hear is that this company profits from evil!?! There's no fun and joy in throwing blood money in our faces as innocents become nothing more than roasted marshmellows!
As the ESPN guys would say: "C'MON MAN!!"
Those that troll her, me, and others that don't share their views will only snicker and say "ohh, but that's the risk you take playing the game!" The truth is, I don’t want to “hate” them by any stretch. but I find myself wondering whether or not it’s even worth it for me to be in the gig after watching that disgusting act on a monitor, whether I should just run away like a cowardly lion as if I'm not "strong" enough physically and, thus, don’t even deserve to be in wrestling much less live a fruitful and prosperous life.
That’s not a good thing for me to think about, right?!
Well I think about it all the time--and it hurts me. It really does.
On the other hand, I realize that, perhaps, I might be wrong about the whole thing about the naysayers, and in that case, I probably won't be able to find a way to process it without going apeshit! I regularly have a hard time thinking that, perhaps, there are those that truly care about what I do and want me to succeed. Yet I have moments when I find myself having zero clue on who else to trust, who else to talk to, who else to share my deepest, most intimate thoughts aside from my fiancee Yulia, or even share a laugh or sing songs with people other than, say, Fiona.
I simply do not know anymore, but I say--right here, right now--to those who’ve given me shit and laughed at my misfortunes, is “keep it up.”
Keep calling me outspoken. Keep calling me maverick.
Keep calling me a blowhard. Keep calling me a clown.
Hell, you can keep on calling me high on drugs!
None of these labels will matter to me, because I’m not backing down from anyone that tells me “no, you can’t do this or that.” That’s now how I operate as a sports entertainer who carries a patriotic surfboard to the ring. That’s not how I am as a living, breathing person that only wants to be able to pay the bills and be able to travel all over the planet. I’ve spent my entire life--from childhood to the present day--doing things that many others thought would be impossible for me to do, given how I only have but one good eye, a pudgy frame, and a brain that’s not as sharp as other people’s.
That’s not to say I’m perfect in other avenues--because I’m not nor will I ever strive to attain perfection.
If I did something stupid like that, I’d be in “a world of shit” as Private Pyle said in Full Metal Jacket.
I didn’t make the honor roll when I was going through compulsory education. I didn’t make the Dean’s List at my alma mater, Texas A&M University-Corpus Christi. I never was the best athlete in gym class--you know, that guy who can run a mile in under eight minutes. I never was the top-ranking student in my classes, flunking the weekly quiz on several occasions; yet that never stopped me from putting my foot down and working my butt off so that, one day, I could be that success story that we all tend to see played out on our TV screens. Eventually, I chose to become a writer after I got my B.A., and while chronicling a fellow by the name of John Wayne Mathias Gaither--a.k.a. ”Jack”--during a 2010 Premiere Wrestling Alliance Pacific Tour, I wrote a bio-book called The Golden Road.
It was his life story, about his desire to get better in a wrestling business that’s as bitterly cold and utterly cruel as the outside world we live in.
Yet talking about Jack Gaither now is a reminder to me that we all are living on borrowed time, that we're not able to escape death's clutches.
The holiday season is fast approaching, and it will be nearly a year since he died. Every time I get into that ring, I think of him; to thid day, I'm still in tears remembering all stories he told me about the training, the matches, and the bad jokes he played on his colleagues. Not a single day goes by when I don't wake up every morning, close my eyes, and thank the Heavenly Father for letting Jack into my life.
My only wish, now and forever, is to make him proud someday.
That, right there, is the true reason why I decided to get into wrestling.
I was so blessed to be at his side throughout the entire trip. I got to spend that entire summer in the Far East and Oceania, traveling from Tokyo and Beijing to Sydney and Auckland. I got to meet people from all walks of life, of varying races and ideologies. I got to meet the stars of the old PWA and even work alongside its commentary team, but in the process I picked up something that would be far bigger than anything else I had ever done.
An unbridled passion for professional wrestling, one that stuck with me ever since that tour.
At that moment, the ideal of “dare to dream” was born.
In order for that to grow into fruition, I had to get into shape and learn to avoid getting my ass killed.
Or as Jack would to say to me, quoting from my favorite flick, I have but one choice in this world: "get busy livin', or get busy dyin'."
Next month, part two of “In The Beginning” will focus on James Gilmore’s first foray into professional wrestling, including his tag-team title run in the now-defunct St. Louis-based promotion Redemption Wrestling, and his decision to join the Imperial Wrestling Federation in 2016.
Well howdy there pardner.