Post by Hayleigh Blake on Sept 13, 2024 1:17:23 GMT
My entire life has been building to this moment…
It’s so strange to feel that way, I’m only 18, how much life could I have possibly lived?
Quite a bit, actually.
I grew up watching my father wrestle. It didn’t occur to me at the time he was the bad guy. He was just my dad doing what my dad did best. He slapped on some face paint, went to the ring and won matches.
I was so proud of him when I was little.
That didn’t last into my pre teens.
Mom didn’t sugarcoat anything. She’s always told it like it is whether it hurts your feelings or not. So when it came to dad’s transgressions? She told me everything.
I hated him. I hated him so goddamn much. Then we disappeared. Cut out of his life and started over like we weren’t a part of his wicked little bubble. He went on with life, processed the hole we left and seemed like he adjusted just fine.
But we were stuck. Mom can act tough all she likes but she’s never really gotten over him or what he did. I don’t blame her. He was a special kind of monster back then.
I’ll never forget pretending to sleep while mom laid on top of me and dad…
Well, let’s just say he wasn’t rocking her to sleep.
But he changed. Tara changed him. Dean changed him. Edward and Damien and Lillith changed him. Mom didn’t want to see it, she couldn’t but I could. I could see the effort he made to fix things, to be a better person, to leave his darker desires in the ring where they belonged.
All she could see was red.
And that was what she brought to my training.
Red.
I’m only eighteen, I’m about to have my first real wrestling match, I feel like I’m over prepared and ready to do what I’ve been dreaming of doing since I was barely able to walk.
But mom?
She still sees red.
”Are you purposely doing everything wrong or did you suddenly develop downs syndrome?”
She always tells it like she sees it.
”I’m doing my best.”
”If that’s your best then you may want to look into community college. You like animals, right? You could always be a vet assistant.”
Sometimes I wonder if she actually thinks before she talks or just rolls with whatever comes out of her mouth.
”Wow.”
”Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hurt your feelings? My bad, I’m just trying to prepare you to be the BEST GODDAMN WRESTLER ON THE PLANET!”
”I’m not going to war, mom! I’m just wrestling a match! Jesus, what is wrong with you!?”
I hate the way she smirks when she thinks you’re an idiot.
”A match? You’re JUST wrestling a match? Have you been watching the show? The Murder? Dean? Eternity? A half a dozen other psychopaths masquerading as professional wrestlers? Do you think they’re JUST wrestling a match!? NO! They’re out there to hurt people! And that’s what’s going to happen to you if you don’t get your goddamn head out of your goddamn ass! Now let’s lock up and run it again!”
I know she means well. She wants to protect me. She wants what’s best for me. But why does she have to be such a goddamn asshole about it?
”Fine.”
We run the routine again. I can feel her vying for the armbar, the same move she used to snap my radius bone not to many years ago. I manage to block her attempt, using a maneuver my dad taught me and then crack her right under the jaw with a European uppercut so hard she actually stumbles back.
”Now that’s some good shit.”
We both smirk.
Mom taught me a lot, almost everything I know but what she didn’t teach me? What she held back from me? Dad was more than happy to show me.
It’s so strange to feel that way, I’m only 18, how much life could I have possibly lived?
Quite a bit, actually.
I grew up watching my father wrestle. It didn’t occur to me at the time he was the bad guy. He was just my dad doing what my dad did best. He slapped on some face paint, went to the ring and won matches.
I was so proud of him when I was little.
That didn’t last into my pre teens.
Mom didn’t sugarcoat anything. She’s always told it like it is whether it hurts your feelings or not. So when it came to dad’s transgressions? She told me everything.
I hated him. I hated him so goddamn much. Then we disappeared. Cut out of his life and started over like we weren’t a part of his wicked little bubble. He went on with life, processed the hole we left and seemed like he adjusted just fine.
But we were stuck. Mom can act tough all she likes but she’s never really gotten over him or what he did. I don’t blame her. He was a special kind of monster back then.
I’ll never forget pretending to sleep while mom laid on top of me and dad…
Well, let’s just say he wasn’t rocking her to sleep.
But he changed. Tara changed him. Dean changed him. Edward and Damien and Lillith changed him. Mom didn’t want to see it, she couldn’t but I could. I could see the effort he made to fix things, to be a better person, to leave his darker desires in the ring where they belonged.
All she could see was red.
And that was what she brought to my training.
Red.
I’m only eighteen, I’m about to have my first real wrestling match, I feel like I’m over prepared and ready to do what I’ve been dreaming of doing since I was barely able to walk.
But mom?
She still sees red.
”Are you purposely doing everything wrong or did you suddenly develop downs syndrome?”
She always tells it like she sees it.
”I’m doing my best.”
”If that’s your best then you may want to look into community college. You like animals, right? You could always be a vet assistant.”
Sometimes I wonder if she actually thinks before she talks or just rolls with whatever comes out of her mouth.
”Wow.”
”Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hurt your feelings? My bad, I’m just trying to prepare you to be the BEST GODDAMN WRESTLER ON THE PLANET!”
”I’m not going to war, mom! I’m just wrestling a match! Jesus, what is wrong with you!?”
I hate the way she smirks when she thinks you’re an idiot.
”A match? You’re JUST wrestling a match? Have you been watching the show? The Murder? Dean? Eternity? A half a dozen other psychopaths masquerading as professional wrestlers? Do you think they’re JUST wrestling a match!? NO! They’re out there to hurt people! And that’s what’s going to happen to you if you don’t get your goddamn head out of your goddamn ass! Now let’s lock up and run it again!”
I know she means well. She wants to protect me. She wants what’s best for me. But why does she have to be such a goddamn asshole about it?
”Fine.”
We run the routine again. I can feel her vying for the armbar, the same move she used to snap my radius bone not to many years ago. I manage to block her attempt, using a maneuver my dad taught me and then crack her right under the jaw with a European uppercut so hard she actually stumbles back.
”Now that’s some good shit.”
We both smirk.
Mom taught me a lot, almost everything I know but what she didn’t teach me? What she held back from me? Dad was more than happy to show me.
”I know I should be nervous.”
”But I’m more excited than the morning of my sixteenth birthday.”
And I got a car that morning, granted it was a 2003 Honda Civic with the clear coat peeling but it was still a car and it meant freedom.
”I’m about to wrestle my first real wrestling match! This is the first huge moment in what I hope will be a career full of huge moments! You only get one first match, one first impression and I don’t plan to waste it!”
”For those who don’t know, my name is Hayleigh Blake. My father is God of professional wrestling, Angel Blake, my mother is THE BEST EVER, Shelly Diamond. I’ve got some big ass boots to fill. My uncles are Rob and Chris Diamond, my half brother is Dean frigging Harper, my adopted brother is Sabin himself and my step mom? Well she’s the absolute pinnacle of women’s professional wrestling, Tara Fenix.”
“Sorry, mom.”
“I’m not standing in a shadow. I’m standing beneath the British Empire in its absolute prime.”
”Expectations are high and I don’t just mean among the internet neckbeard community who have been following my entire life waiting for me to finally become legal so they google 'Hayleigh Blake nude' without feeling like absolute pedophiles.”
“My family is expecting a lot out of me. Dad says there is nothing I can do to disappoint him. That he’s just happy I made it this far and landed the try out but the others? They aren’t exactly as supportive. I know mom wants me to be a killer like her, just dominating the division until there isn’t even a question of who’s the best in the world.”
“Tara, Dean, the others?”
“They send their well wishes but I know they’ll be watching this match like the hawks they are. None of them tolerate weakness. They didn’t get to where they are in this business by accepting people as they are. They pushed them beyond their breaking point just to see if they could put themselves back together.”
“They pushed me.”
“They prepared me.”
“They did what they could to make sure I was ready for this moment.”
“I can’t fail them.”
”Nancy Pailson-Carlson.”
“NPC, I like it.”
“You may think you’re stepping into the ring with some young greenhorn who has never wrestled a match before and you’d be nearly right. But you’re also stepping into the ring with someone who has been trained by damn near two-thirds of the IWF Hall of Fame. I haven’t wrestled a single real wrestling match but I’ve sparred with my mother, my father, Dean, Rob, Sabin, Tara, some of the all time greats to ever lace up a pair of boots.”
“You’re not just facing a rookie, you’re facing a prodigy.”
“And when I get into that ring? All I’m going to see is red.”
Blood red.
Well howdy there pardner.