Post by Patrick Jones on Jul 18, 2015 23:00:53 GMT -6
In recent years, the importance of healthy living has come to the forefront of the societal consciousness. Seemingly everyone, and especially their mother, has found some diet or lifestyle that they believe will make them live longer and better. Some of these new ideas are simply fads brought on by pseudo-science. Others are genuine attempts to help people balance their intake and aid them. Not surprisingly, athletes have been striving to stay on the absolute leading edge. And so have health care professionals tasked with taking care of athletes.
The most well-publicized advances have been made in the field of neurology. Foremost in the news has been how head injuries are diagnosed and treated. American football has borne the brunt of the public outrage, but other contact sports have also been forced into improving how they handle such traumas. Wrestling is certainly among them. And that has led to my visit to a doctor’s office today.
The cards flash across the screen. If it has already been shown, I am supposed to hit the K key. If it is a new card, the D key should be pressed. After 2 minutes of the exercise, the test ends. The doctor walks over to the suddenly whirring printer. He scans the printed page then looks over at me.
“Mr. Jones, we have run all of our tests, and there are not any red flags. You are cleared to compete at Heatstroke.”
“Well, that’s good. I was not looking forward to forging your signature.”
A smile turns my lips upwards, but the medical professional is not amused. He shakes his head solemnly while scribbling out his signature on another form, glancing over at the printout one more time just to make sure he had not misread it.
“You took a very serious shot to the head with that steel pipe. I’m surprised your concussion was not more severe.”
The blow had seemed pretty serious to me at the time. It had knocked me unconscious and immediately split my head open. Beck Ramsey had smashed the steel pipe right into my temple with the tip of it lacerating my forehead. My next memory is of the referee helping me to my feet and basically dragging me out of the ring. He had been trying to get me out of harm’s way in case Big Boss Hogg, who had benefited unwittingly from the assault, and Ramsey had begun to brawl…or decided to take advantage of me in my obviously susceptible state.
After that, things were a bit hectic. The training staff in the back had made the obvious call to get me to the local hospital in Ottawa. There a litany of tests had revealed my concussion. It was classified as “mild” but had been a cause for concern. The difference between my baseline scores and current state had dramatically improved until I had finally been cleared today. VoW would certainly be glad to know that their pre-show match would not have to be turned into a Triple Threat due to a medical drop-out.
“I’ve taken worse hits before.”
“And that’s the scary part. These things get worse as you have more of them. Maybe you should take fewer hits in the future.”
The doctor’s tone and face are 100% serious. Mine is much more light-hearted. It is how I cope with things. Sure, this was an unnerving incident, but, as I told him, this injury was not anything too out of the ordinary.
“Ya know, that IS kinda the plan. I prefer not to get hit in the head. Honestly, I prefer not to get hit at all. My opponents do not seem to agree with that preference though. You think you could pass along that they should avoid my head?”
The humor is blatantly unappreciated.
“If there is nothing else that you need me for today, you can leave, Mr. Jones.”
“Have a good day, sir. And thanks for clearing me.”
The doctor leaves the room, giving a shake of his head as he goes.
“And I thought all Canadians were overly friendly…”
The mumbled observation to no one in particular goes unheard. Or possibly just unacknowledged. Either way, I walk out of the care center with a smile on my face and a form for VoW management in hand. After a short drive to get to the hotel where management is lodging for the week and an even shorter meeting with Ryan Omega to confirm my status for Heatstroke, I am walking back out of the hotel when I bump into Darius Yates.
“I am going to use some journalistic intuition and guess that you have finally been cleared for Heatstroke, Jones.”
My face-splitting grin must have given me away. Yates had politely attempted to interview me after the match, so he was well aware of how scrambled my brains had been. Whatever footage was recorded had not been used. My answers had been probably been unintelligible garbage. It is probably better that none of the fans got to see me like that.
“That obvious?”
“Absolutely. The only other clue would be you skipping along with the form held in front of you. Did you have to argue with the doctor?”
“Nope. I passed the test with flying colors. I am totally back to normal now.”
The answer seems to surprise Yates a bit. He nods slowly. The gears are clearly spinning his head already about how he wants to steer this conversation. Even without a camera around, you can tell the man takes his job very seriously. He may not have any video or audio, although there may very well be an audio recorder in his pocket, data to show for his efforts, but Darius will definitely use whatever he learns any time for a story.
“Do you really think the testing is necessary? All appearances were that you were prepared to wrestle a few days ago.”
“I would have hated to miss Heatstroke if I did not get cleared, but I definitely get the point. We already get a bad rap as a bunch of meatheads. If we were not careful about concussions, it would only get worse. Why do you think so many older wrestlers have aged like milk instead of fine wine?”
Yates nods, pulling a small notebook from his pocket and immediately jotting something down.
“You like the ‘aging like milk’ analogy?”
Yates gives a slight smile.
“It is one that I do not think I have ever heard before. So, with full support of the current policy, what more could VoW do to help its employees when it comes to health? Head injuries are not the only impediment to graceful aging. In-ring competition has long been known to create a multitude of other concerns later in life.”
“What can VoW do? I mean, they could ban all weapons and just start firing guys for breaking the rules. They could, but they won’t.”
Darius’s face lights up at that phrasing. He clearly sees a chance for a headline quote if he can get me to say the right thing about management and what they are not willing to do. Before he can ask a follow up question, I add on to that statement.
“And they shouldn’t. I called them out last week for allowing the Zero G championship to pass on following a low-blow, but that’s a competition issue. I want guys punished for cheating, but competition issues and health issues are totally different. From a health standpoint, this sport is as safe as ever. Visionaries of Wrestling also has a general lack of insane match types. No one here is falling 20 feet onto C4 or anything like that.”
“That is true. You mentioned that low-blow by Lexi Pearl which occurred at Breakthrough 28. You also just left a meeting with Ryan Omega. Has anything further been said or done pertaining to how that match ended and what VoW will do going forward?”
“My meeting with Ryan was strictly about my medical status. He had other matters to attend to that prevented anything more.”
My terse tone and short answer gives DY a flashing red light that screams for him to dig deeper. Even an amateur reporter would be able to pick up on the abrupt change in demeanor.
“Do you expect to have a further discussion on that matter? You have already publicly voiced your opinion on that match once before. Will you push harder to see something come of those complaints?”
I take a deep breath, intentionally delaying myself. Sure, this is a mostly off-the-record conversation, but interviewers never just have a simple conversation. There is always an angle. It is not like they are always in work-mode, but that is just how they work. Any potential lead or point for future use gets stored away until it is useful.
“My comments on Breakthrough 29 pretty much cover my feelings on this situation. It is what it is for now, and Lexi has to defend that title at Heatstroke. After the show, then I might have to see how things stand. One match at a time though.”
“Of course, you do have your own match to worry about. You have a bit of a reputation for being a student of the game, so to speak. You have some serious unknowns before you though. Does that change anything?”
“Of course it does. I can’t drag up hours of footage to figure out what makes people tick if they’re new to wrestling, or if I don’t have access to their old footage. Yeshua is obviously the biggest obstacle even though he has the most VoW matches to look at. He is just such a strange person in general that it is hard to get a handle on him. Keisha is pretty easy for me just because we have so much in common. Now, obviously, she’s smaller and maybe even a bit quicker, but her motivation is very much like mine.”
I pause, raising a hand to my mouth in a bit of hesitation. Then I just let go.
“And Zakk Morris is such a blatantly proto-typical jackass that he is easy to get a bead on. The kid has been in VoW for one match, which he lost cleanly, and is already trying to talk up some conspiracy theory. He thinks I am worried about letting him know that I paved the way for him and other things a ‘veteran’ might say. Zakk must not know me very well. I have paved the way for no one, especially not him. He is nothing like me, so he is certainly not following some trail that I blazed. If he were following me, he would not be running his mouth before he has anything to talk about. Oh, and Darius, you can damn sure quote me on that.”
Yates just nods, a bit taken aback by my sudden outburst.
“You…uh…you have a nice day, Patrick. I think I need to go work on something.”
“Cool. Let me see it when you’re done.”
He gives a slight nod as he walks off smiling. The words had been a sharp criticism of the young man, but it was true. Morris had spoken of me and tried to pinpoint what I would think, yet it was as if he had done no research. Maybe he hadn’t. It would certain fit his comment about not respecting me because I am pre-show material. Whatever the case, he won’t be Saved by the Bell. No, more than one of us is good with his feet. Getting Zoned Out might straighten him out a bit too.