Post by Cass Baumer on Jun 27, 2017 6:22:10 GMT
DATE: 02/26/17
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"It's a story as old as time."
Cass Baumer sits in the stands one day after losing against Gabriel Laroux. With a hand gliding across the metal chair beneath her, she leans forward and looks back at the camera with a small huff.
"It's been said a million times in a thousand different ways. The story of the hopeful wrestler who reached within themselves to become the thing they idolized themselves doing as far back as they can remember. Many convey this overarching plot where they would bathe in the glow of the warm television screen where everything was possible and the possibilities were fingertips away. Attending every wrestling show in their local area whether it was in the nosebleed section or the front row, that's how the story usually begins, am I right?"
With a small gesture, the social media mogul acknowledged the fact that she sat in the front row, leaning against the barricade with her palms clasped on the flat surface.
"Inspiration emanated from their every word, doesn't it? Charismatic in their delivery, people regurgitating the same story is practically a meme at this point. It's a trope to get people invested, this carefully worded speech to capture your imagination. The premise revolves around the thought that you can do anything once you put your mind to it as long as you work hard enough to achieve a goal! It's simple, yeah? Makes you feel good. I get it."
She smiled softly, looking down for a brief moment.
"Once the people listening reach a certain age, those kids from across the globe flock to wrestling schools like birds flying north. Every ounce of their being goes to fulfilling the one goal they've sought after since hearing the marvelous speech and who can even blame them? The words were so grand and sensational in its delivery, right? It's the stardust that makes Disney movies and that's not a knock at Disney either. People eat it up. It's just the way things work."
Shaking her head back and forth, she shrugged.
"No matter their age or gender identity, no matter their financial situation or skin color, no matter their height or weight... It doesn't matter! Wrestling's been said to be the great equalizer when it comes to sports and that's probably the truth. Anyone can hear a speech and work harder than they've ever worked in their entire life, spending every waking moment training in order to reach their goal of replicating the superheroes in tights who show up on their television sets each week. Destined to push their bodies to the limits and armed with the knowledge that not everybody gets so lucky, those people conveniently push aside realism in favor of believing the words they wanted to believe — believing themselves to be the special snowflake who won't need to struggle to get ahead since they're not like everyone else. They believe in their ability to the point of obsession and everyone who tells them of the unrelenting reality which says the contrary is a 'hater' to shove aside who's only existence seems to be to be proved wrong in the eyes of the hopeful wrestler."
She paused, looking directly into the camera with a smirk.
"Oh, you're starting to remember this story? I thought so. It's pretty common these days. The thing is... Nobody ever talks about the people who didn't make the cut, huh?"
She let it sink in for a moment.
"Nobody ever gives enough time to the hundreds of thousands upon thousands of people who don't even make it to a level where it's possible for their wrestling ability to be broadcasted across the airwaves at all. The wrestling world is big, don't get me wrong. One look at the Twitter landscape makes that pretty damn easy to see, yeah? Now imagine... That's a small handful of the people who trained to be wrestlers. That's an extremely low estimate of a number of people who ever sought after the same dream."
"There are people who train for 20 years who haven't made it to the big time, excellent fighters in their own right who never cut a break where it matters. There are people with dreams the size of a planet who despite the massive amount of training and despite their will to succeed don't end up making it further than local untelevised venues and that's when you're lucky. The pay is awful and hardly anyone comes to see them — but fuck! I thought everyone was saying that if you worked hard enough, every single dream you had would come true! I thought all you needed to succeed in this business was enough gumption to take the first step and the rest would fall into place!"
Sarcasm dripped from Cass' lips as she spoke, exaggerating in the way she spoke.
"You're telling me all those kids who ran to their nearest wrestling school were drained of their life savings for nothing? Who would have thought that those humble wrestlers you watched for so long who won the lottery when it comes to luck didn't know it wasn't that damn easy for some people?! Who would have fucking thought becoming a successful wrestler was hard?!"
Her passion on display, Cass' voice reverberated throughout the empty arena.
"Oh. Right. Everyone knew. We just conveniently forget when an inspirational fighter starts talking about following those dreams of yours. People throw their money and sink in their debt in an attempt to become famous. It's nothing we haven't heard before. And I get it, it's a shock to your system. All your life, you were told otherwise. You romanticized being a wrestler like it was fingertips away. No matter your weight, your height, your gender identity... You thought it would be easy to become a wrestler nowadays but it's not. It's not easy at all."
With the tilt of her head, she cracked her knuckles.
"It's a tale as old as time and it's a convenient lie."
With a heavy huff, she reluctantly continued. It was obvious she didn't want to say the next few words she was about to say but she struggled through it.
"You know what Gabe told me last night that got me to freeze? He told me the truth:"
"'You don't belong here.'"
A hand squeezed the barricade tightly.
"I never fell for it. All the romanticism... The stories surrounding a nobody who made it big with nothing but a dream to their name... I saw first hand that it wasn't true. My eldest brother John was one of those people who had all the tools to become a professional wrestler. He believed the fairy tales, believed that with hope and determination anyone could achieve a spot on a nationally broadcasted wrestling promotion and so he began to train. Our family sunk a lot of money into that training. The more he learned, the more excited for the possibilities he got. He was charismatic. He was strong, athletic and pretty damn agile. John and Ronnie used to wrestle on the trampoline while I watched them from the sidelines. Sometimes I jumped in for the save, stopping a pin before I was hurled to the ground by one of my brothers like a sack of potatoes!"
Cass laughed at the memory, smiling from ear to ear.
"All three of us watched wrestling back in New Zealand growing up. Ronnie and John were always more invested than I was but I still watched it with them. I joined a wrestling forum when I got a little older. I talked about predictions on who would win at the next PPV and argued over who would win in a fight. That's when I met Rayven — former DARC Heavyweight Champion. We've been friends ever since. Hah."
With another laugh, she glanced at the entrance ramp and then back towards the camera.
"While I was fine watching wrestling from home and posting about it on the forums, writing long drawn out Facebook posts about the way I thought things should be booked back when Facebook was cool... My brothers wanted to become wrestlers. Of course, John was the most competitive. While Ronnie ended up pursuing other goals, John went all in. I watched from the sidelines as I always did, waiting for him to come home every weekday and drilling him with questions about what it was like in wrestling school. He would talk about the way he learned to get out of a submission hold or properly perform a DDT without hurting his opponent too seriously. They were great stories, don't get me wrong, but I was always content being on the outside looking in. While he excitedly talked about the day he would become a world champion on international television, I just playfully poked fun at him and reminded him it probably would never happen. Hundreds of thousands reach towards that goal and only a couple thousand ever get the chance to come even close to accomplishing that goal. He'd laugh and tell me it was possible, told me that he wouldn't be a statistic. He was going to become a world champion while Ronnie and I were in the front row and that was that! It was simple. It sounded so easy when he said it. You should have seen the way his eyes lit up every damn time. You should have seen the excitement in his voice when he talked about the way he would inspire everyone watching like the people he watched as a kid inspired him. He had it all planned out, every single goddamn detail and then..."
Cass took a deep breath, her happiness replaced with a hint of sorrow.
"He never got signed. Trained for over three straight years, had all the talent in the fucking world and he watched as less talented guys got brought up to big promotions instead of him. Of course, those people squandered it. Those people got released shortly after and John believed full heartedly that he wouldn't have wasted the chance. He would have marched into that arena and blown the socks off of everyone! There was going to be a standing ovation and everyone was going to chant his name right after he won the first match of his surely soon-to-be illustrious career!"
Cass grinned softly again for a moment.
"Months passed. Nobody was calling. He had everything it took to become a world champion — at least to me and a whole lot of other people who saw his potential — and nobody was ready to sign him. He went to tryout after tryout, attempting to get his name out there like any other excited rookie would have done and no matter what he did, nothing worked."
"Maybe there just wasn't that big of an interest in the New Zealand / Australia wrestling scene at the time, he figured. Maybe that's the reason he wasn't getting signed! So what does he do? He decides he's going to head to the United States. That's where most every promotion we watched as kids were located, after all. Made sense, right? He'd get the attention of those promoters in the states and surely one of them was bound to hire him!"
Reaching into her pocket, she grabs a tissue and wipes her eyes as her excitement gives way to a not so happy ending.
"He didn't make it."
The words were quiet and soft almost like she was talking to herself.
"John passed away. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time and he got shot before he even left the country. All the talk about becoming a world champion and the story of John Baumer ends with a whimper, not a bang..."
Using all her might to keep her composure, she keeps going.
"The pieces of shit on TV made it sound so goddamn easy, huh? The story as old as time. You can do anything you want with enough grit and determination. You can accomplish every single achievement you put your heart into and that's the message John believed with every ounce of himself. What happens? People didn't give him the opportunity. Nobody gave him a second glance. You never hear that speech. You never hear about the people who don't make it to the big show. My brother was one of those people. So what did I do? I left for the United States with NGW. I tagged along as the interviewer and tried to live up to his mantle. I started training. I don't know whether I did it intentionally or not but somewhere down the line, I started feeling like I needed to promise John that I would do what he wasn't able to accomplish. I followed someone else's dream and I did it for family — and even though every single inspirational story about becoming a wrestler is bullshit, I'm here. I'm the FAW Hardcore Champion and I've finally assured the name Baumer is known far and wide in the wrestling community in a way only I could!"
Another soft smile crossed her features.
"So Gabe is right. I shouldn't be here. It should be John Baumer here in FAW right now. He'd be making waves, kicking ass and chewing bubblegum like it was easy. He'd be carving his own path and he'd be a light to the community at large, telling the truth and taking down each and every opponent who stood in his way! His path... His path would have been so much different than mine. He wouldn't have tweeted reports or turned his back on his friends. He wouldn't have lost the FAW Hardcore Championship the first time against Kenzi Grey — assuming he'd even go after the same championship, which I sorta doubt, to be honest. Still... Eventually, he would have captured the FAW World Championship and you know what? Nobody would question it. Sure, I'm sure a few assholes would whine and moan but I like to think he'd garner so much respect that people would come out of the woodwork to congratulate the fuck out of the guy. He'd just smile and say thanks as humble as ever, you know that's the truth and people would have known the Baumer name in a very different light than they do right now."
"And where would I be? Easy. I'd still be in New Zealand, cheering him on via social media and every single time John would have had a world championship match, you better believe Ronnie and I would be in the front row! We'd buy our tickets and leave the country just for a moment to see him win before traveling right back to Wellington with Baumer merch to show for it. We'd tell our friends he was related to us and they'd probably think we were full of shit. We'd just laugh and play along, moving on to the next thing or whatever. I'd go back to my job working at The Wellington Post or some other newspaper and that'd be it. That would be my life. It doesn't sound half bad, does it? I mean, sure, the money wouldn't be as good but truth be told, that's not what matters. You starting to see what I mean?"
With a deep breath, Cass looked down and swung her legs back and forth. Brushing the long blonde hair out of her eyes, she spoke to the camera once again.
"I meant to keep this a secret. I suppose letting people know why I wrestle ain't such a bad idea, though. And sure, maybe I don't belong here. Maybe you all think I'm a piece of shit who doesn't belong in this sport because I don't have this intrinsic desire to be a wrestler like so many others do. I'm here because I made a promise to John and whether I have the same views as you doesn't matter much. I'm making the name Baumer mean something in the wrestling world just like he'd want me to do and I'm doing it via any means necessary."
"It's not the Cass Report for a reason. It's the Baumer Report. So you wanna call me selfish? You wanna think I'm a piece of shit? Fine. Just know I'm doing this for a reason. All the marketing, all the hype, all the rumors... I'd do anything to get the Baumer name out there and if that means playing for a culture of wrestling fans who enjoy rumors and speculation more than I do, so be it. If that means pissing off some people in an attempt to get attention and get noticed, it is what it is. I'm doing exactly what everyone else is doing but I'm doing it in my own way. You got a problem with it? You can fuck off."
With that, 'The Headliner' Cass Baumer jumped the barricade and walked around the ring. Walking up the aisle, she solemnly left the arena.