Lessons Learned

The stale Japanese winter air was a mild fifty degrees. The Osaka Prefectural Gymnasium 2nd Arena in Osaka, Japan was filled to the roof with eight thousand screaming wrestling fans. Fans that had highly anticipated the debut of "The Human Highlight Reel" Chris Madison in Osaka. It had been close to a year since Chris had left the states to compete over seas, looking for something to full the void he felt was missing from the American wrestling scene. He had traveled across the country and had found his niche in Japanese death matches. Rumors of his brutality had spread and a new nickname had began to circulate amongst fans.

One of Japan's brightest young stars is now partially brain damaged all thanks to Chris Madison and one of these death matches. The brutality he showed that night made a lasting impression with promoters. Event after event they are begging of him to take part in death matches with hopes of putting their promotions on the map.

Chris sat in the trainers room after finishing a war with a mammoth of a man. Covered in a crimson mask, Chris leaned over a steel folding chair with a towel covering his shaved head. The medical personal were stitching up a large gash on his back he had received from being power bombed through a table. Others pluck thumbtacks and shards of glass that were embedded in his back. As the adrenaline started to wear off he began grimacing in pain. Periodically he would look up at a screen in the room which was broadcasting the live event that was about to showcase the main event.

Madison was flanked by his girlfriend Kiyomi, who also happened to be the sister of the poor soul that Madison had put into early retirement. He held his hand out and she began unraveling his hand wraps. "I don't know how much longer I can do this."

Chris reached up with his free hand and pulled the towel from his head revealing a series of staples the medical staff had already put along the right side of his head. The gruesome scene was something out of a horror movie, looking more like the Frankenstein monster than a human being. The reveal had shocked Kiyomi, causing her to gasp in horror. "I'm not in the mood right now Kiy, my body is aching. I'm all banged up. I'm not looking to get into the pros and cons of wrestling these types of matches with you right now."

She grabbed the towel from Chris's hand and gently wiped the coagulated blood from around his eyes. "I'm not trying to get into the semantics. I just hate seeing you like this. Tomorrow you won't be able to move. When does it end? When your forced to a wheelchair and can't enjoy your life anymore. You've seen Koji. Is that what you want?"

The doctor put in the final stitches across Madison's back before covering it with a few large bandages. He slowly stood to his feet and placed his had on the side of his head which was pounding from a headache. "Of course that's not what I want. But no matter how hard I'm hit, I'm standing to my feet and I'm coming right back at you. I can't fight my own determination to keep fighting. These wounds, they'll heal. I'll learn from them and I'll be a better fighter for it!

The door to the trainers office swung open with such force it knocked supplies off the top of a cabinet which sat near the doorway. A short Japanese man walked in, dressed sharp in business attire. His swag commanded respect as he strolled into the room with his head held high. The trainers quickly scurried out of his way, pressing their backs against the surrounding walls. Madison, Kiyomi, and the head medical official were left standing in the center of the room.

The man surveyed the room and looked over Madison's laundry list of injuries. The stone cold look broke into a smile. "You did hell of a job tonight" he praised with a thick accent.

The tension in the quickly lightened. Something about this man demanded respect. Chris extended his hand but didn't receive the same gesture in return. He looked down at his hand before pulling it back and wiping it in a towel. "I think the fans will be leaving more than satisfied with this show you booked Mr. Saito."

Mr. Saito turned his attention to the beautiful, young, Kiyomi. He greeted her with a bow and waited for one in return. She reluctantly obliged him and stood a few steps back. It was not her place to get involved in business. "Not quite satisfied yet. They chant your name. They crave more violence. I want you to go and interfere in the main event."

Chris took a deep breath, barely moving. The deep breaths caused a sharp pain in his side. In complete disbelief that the promoter wanted to parade him to the ring in this condition he stared directly at Mr. Saito. Not once did his demeanor change. "If need be then so be it..."

Madison limped his bruised body towards the door, ready to sacrifice it some more in the sake of performing for the fans. "NO" Kiyomi screamed out while wrapping her arms around Madison. "Don't do it Chris. There will be other gigs. Is your career really worth it?"

Madison placed his lips on her forehead, planting her with a kiss. "I have to..."

"I suggest you keep your girlfriend in line. Pass this up and I will make sure you don't work another show on this island!" Mr. Saito's frustration grew with the stalling tactics of Kiyomi. He had a show to run, as a successful promoter and businessman he had no patience for antics like this.

It took all of Chris's remaining energy to not lay out the promoter for disrespecting his girlfriend. His mouth opened as he was about to speak but cut off by the head medical technician. "Mr. Saito, with all due respect, I'm going to have to suggest that Mr. Madison goes to a hospital to get checked out. I did the best I can but he may have broken ribs. Possibly a concussion as well."

Mr. Saito walks over to the medical technician. Without speaking he backhands him hard enough to send him stumbling backwards. The medical technician reaches up and puts his hand to his mouth. After removing it he looks down and sees blood from a split lip in his palm. "If I wanted your opinion I would have asked. Chris is going out there or he won't get paid tonight for not fulfilling his obligations! If you cherish your position I suggest you keep silent!"

The technician shifted his eyes towards Madison and Kiyomi as if to apologize. Chris took another deep breath and winced in pain. He took a couple of limps towards the door. "Nobody is losing their job because of me. I take care of myself, always have and always will. I don't need anyone to look out for my best interest. Lead the way Mr. Saito. I'm ready fulfill my obligations..."

"Wise decision Mr. Madison. I would hate to see such a blooming career be thrown away." Mr. Saito walked out of the trainers room leaving Madison alone with the staff and Kiyomi.

"That's exactly why I don't trust promoters!" Chris hobbled out of the room following the promoter to what would end up costing him three months of his career...



During the day time this room served as a vessel for teenage learning. The class room was filled with its usual guts: desks, chairs, books, a bookcase, computers, maps, and motivational posters. This history classroom served a different purpose on this Friday night. All the desks were pushed to the side of the room and the chairs were stacked in the corner. Tonight the room served as a trainers office for a low budget independent wrestling promotion. The show honored the rich wrestling history of Philadelphia to the extreme; performed in the gymnasium in front of maybe seventy people.

Set up in the middle of the room were massage tables which the trainers used to examine the participating wrestlers after what was a violence filled show. One of the wrestlers getting checked out was Maria Mayhem, Chris Madison's new gal pal. She sat hunched over on the table in a leather halter top covered in spikes which complimented her leather pants perfectly. Her bright red hair was draped over her left shoulder and the right side of her head was shaved down almost to the skin. The trainer poked and prodded at her back and side, occasionally meriting a grimace. Standing slightly to the side, creating a buzz in the room was Chris Madison. He watched over as his friend was being treated.

The trainer placed a hand on her ribs before instructing her, "Now just take a slow, steady, deep breath." After a moments pause he followed that up with, "Is it a sharp pain or just tight?

The trainer removed his hand and Maria quickly replaced it with one of her own. "It definitely wasn't a sharp pain."

He nodded his head coming to a conclusion on a possible diagnosis. "Well I don't think they're broken or fractured. Probably just some bruised ribs. You did take an awkward bump against the rings edge. Nothing a little rest couldn't fix.."

"That's a plus, right?" the two shared a playful laugh in between her cringing.

Madison found his way passed the maze of young wrestlers trying to pick his brain. Just as he stopped in front of Maria the door swings open and a short middle aged man enters the room wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from the wrestling organization. He had a firm rigor mortis like grip on some unmarked envelopes that he clutched against his chest. In a politician like manner he shook the hand of every individual he walked by prior to handing them an envelope

He finally navigates his way through the swarms of sweaty muscle bound men and stops by Maria. He failed to make eye contact with her as he shuffled through the few envelopes he had left in his possession. "Unfortunately your envelope is going to be a little lighter than expected. Not enough asses in the seats. I have to start cutting back somewhere. No offense kid, you looked good out there. Frankie wasn't lying when he vouched for you. Maybe next show we can put a little more in there for you." He finally lifted his head and noticed the larger than life figure standing over her shoulder. He was at a loss of words; completely unaware that Chris Madison was in attendance for this small time show.

"I'm sure your envelope isn't light at all.." Madison had just put the promoter on blast in front a majority of his talent. The promoters reaction alone helped create just a seed of doubt in some of the wrestlers heads.

He stuttered over his words and gulped down that lump in his throat. Quickly backpedaling for an excuse all he could muster was a simple apology. "I'm sorry...Maybe I should crunch the numbers again."

"Pathetic! No hesitation to pull the wool over their eyes. These guys act as your loyal soldiers, always willing to put their bodies on the line for what's good for the business. As their leader you so nonchalantly walk all over their youthful ignorance. For what a couple of hundred dollars extra in your pocket?" Madison chuckled as he placed his arm around Maria, firmly resting that arm horizontally across her shoulder line.

"No! It's not like that at all!" he shouted trying to save face amongst his wrestlers.

Madison peered around the room, taking long deep looks at the eyes of the wrestlers in the room. "Really? Look around this room and tell me what you see."

He took a moment trying to figure out the trick in the question before answering. "I don't know. Mostly some of my regulars. A handful of part timers. One or two new guys."

"And there lays the problem. To you they're just bodies filling slots on your show. There's no connection. For a moment amuse me and quit thinking business first. You wanna know what I see? I see guys that are starving, literally and figuratively. I see guys who trying to figure out if they have enough money to drive the three hundred plus miles to their next gig only to get another light envelope. These guys are breaking their backs for scraps and you practically slap them in the face with how they're treated!" the small group started forming a mob like mentality shouting out things such as "yeah" and "that's right" while Chris's tirade came to an end.

The promoter inched backwards towards the door. With one hand on the knob he made a final plea with the room. "I'm sorry! Let me fix this...if word gets around it will ruin me. We can resolve this now!"

Madison found himself on an imaginary soapbox. He had the rooms ear and made sure to spread his agenda. "This isn't an isolated situation. This happens all throughout the wrestling industry. These promoters are all the same. From the upper echelon all the way down. They're fucking snakes! All they care about is lining their pockets, not the work you put out there. Look out for one another because no one else in this twisted business will!"

The crowd began dispersing which gave Chris and Maria some one on one time with each other. She opened her envelope just to look at her cut of the nights proceeds. Inside was a whopping hundred dollar bill. An overwhelming look of disappointment took over her natural glow. "A measly hundred dollars? This guy is such a scumbag!"

"They all are...consider it a lesson learned...Too many people go through this industry without really learning how to survive it. First lesson, never trust a promoter. No matter how sweet the gig seems there's always an underlining ulterior motive. And it's usually money...money for themselves!" She was like putty in his hands when he spoke. She ate up every word he said. It all made sense in the grand scheme of things. Promoters are businessmen. They only care about their profits.

"So what's next?" The question was posed while she placed her head onto his shoulder.

"Medicine Hat...I have a one on one lesson to teach. Cid White is going to learn the hard way that this industry is a cold hearted bitch!"

The scene fades out as Madison and Maria Mayhem are left alone in the classroom turned training room.

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We fade back in with what will become a familiar sound of static followed by a brief moment of white snow on the screen. Madison seems to be walking the streets of Philadelphia by himself, with his handheld camera stuck out pointed backwards at himself.

"Foolish Cid..."

"Foolish, dumb, young blind ignorance."

"I remember when I first started out. My mouth always seemed to get me in trouble. I traveled around the world without a purpose or direction. Eventually over those years of traveling I learned a few things. Things that are essential for any wrestler to have a long lasting career."

"Last week you left an impression on me Cid. An impression that made me want to choose you as my opponent for this week. I look at you and I see a kid who is just too stupid for his own good. I see a kid who thinks too highly of himself. If you want to have a long lasting wrestling career I suggest rethink just who you pick fights with! Last week you carried on about how you train harder than everyone and that you're hungrier than everyone. What did that do for you? All that hard work and desire got you dropped on your head and pinned."

"So how do you approach this week knowing that you are going up against the same man who put you in your place? Guarantee a win. Makes sense. I'm only the most talented guy in the Canadian X locker room. Nobody back there belongs in the same ring as me. And you out of all of them are going to be the one to take me out of this tournament and prevent me from becoming the first Heavyweight Champion. Please, you really are more foolish than I thought."

"This week was simple for you. A ground ball. You're being carried into the main event. All you had to do is come out humbly and tell the fans how you were gonna give it your all for the fans! They would have ate that shit up! Instead you make promises that you know you can't keep. And I'm the one who is delusional? The fact that you actually think you are going to walk into Medicine Hat and humiliate me is comical. All the talk in the locker room you're hearing, all those whispers about how good I am...that's for real. That's just people who aren't too delusional to look at reality. People who aren't too stupid to know who the lead horse in the race is."

"You're too pedestrian to be able to take this company by storm. Cut from the same boring mold that every other musclebound meat head is. Just because you are bigger and probably stronger than me doesn't make you a shoe in to win the match. It actually takes wrestling ability to win a wrestling match, something that you lack horribly. Not that you're not capable of one day being. You're just too green. It shows in everything you do. Over time maybe you'll open your eyes and realize that in order to learn you need to be open to it. You don't seem too accepting to any advice so naturally I assume that your career will just be a huge flop!"

"A flop that's going to leave you wondering what's next? Next you'll finally work your way up the ranks the way you're supposed to in this business. Start from the bottom and earn everything you get. You didn't earn a spot in this tournament. You were handed a golden opportunity to make a name for yourself as all you did is blow it by picking a fight with the biggest dog in the yard! You have a long way to go in your young career Cid. A career that's going to be filled with unforeseen twists and turns. With an attitude like yours, those twists and turns are going to get the better of you and leave you wondering what could have been..."

"I've been in the ring with bigger and badder men Cid. This is nothing but a walk in the park to me. All your empty promises are just a waste of breath. No one actually believes, and this includes yourself, that you actually have a chance of beating me this week. And I promise you that when all is said and done the EMT's will have to drag your motionless carcass from your supposed ring...Consider it a free learning experience. Don't bite off more than you can chew!"

The scene fades out back to the sound of static and white snow on the screen.