RWA: August 7, 1998, The Opera House, Toronto

I saw posters for the "Ring 'n' Ears" event around town, pitching the show as a "WrestleMusicFest" with live pro wrestling and punk music. I was interested in the former, not the latter, so I tried to track down the promoters to see about getting involved. I eventually ran into Steve, commissioner of the RWA. He got me in the show as guest manager for "Sexy Baby" Jamie Jackson of the Hollywood Hunks. He took part in a four-way taped fist match vs. Bloody Bill Skullion and two other people who I can't remember. I knew Bill from my days with Whipper Watson Jr.'s Teen Pro Wrestling promotion in the early nineties. I knew Bill was crazy. (Bill, for the record, is affiliated with the Blood Brothers, promoters of the music half of the event, not with the RWA.)

Within minutes, Bill was a bloody mess outside the ring. I was dressed well, being a manager and all, so I took off my tie and put it in my pocket, not wanting it to be ruined by all the blood. Eventually it came down to my man and Bill, and Bill was kicking Jamie's ass. He had Sexy Baby tied up in the ring ropes and took out a cup full of thumb tacks and dumped them in the middle of the ring, obviously intending to throw my man into them. Sure enough, the other Hollywood Hunks ran in from the back and started beating on Bill. I climbed up into the ring to gloat about how my guys were making Bill Skullion a bloodier mess than he already was. What I didn't see whas Bill throwing them all out of the ring. Bill spun me around, kicked me in the gut, and powerbombed me onto the tacks. My shirt and jeans were all bloody (from his blood, not mine). I'd never been powerbombed before, and I ended up taking it on the back of my head.

The final match of the night was a battle royal, and I was the last man in, still wearing my bloody dress shirt. I was in the corner hitting one of the wrestlers, when I got headbutted in the face. It split my upper lip and left me bloody. I didn't realize the damage 'til "Dangerboy" Derek Wylde threw me out of the ring and I found I was bleeding.

The first-aid attendant suggested I go to the hospital to get it stitched up. I took the 501 Queen Streetcar to Saint Michael's Hospital. I'd never been to the emergency room before. They gave me a tetanus shot (for the powerbomb on the bloody thumbtacks), asked me a few questions about my headache (which lasted about a week), and had a look at my lip. They said it was a superficial wound and would take care of itself in a few days. It did. I may have a tiny scar there. Whee.

Pictures & Video

Here are some photos from that night... Click the thumbnails to see the big ones. Perhaps one day I might have video of me getting powerbombed. Mandatory photo credit: Scott Simpson, cygnals.com

	Here's the setup. The ring is in the "pit" in front of the stage. The action also moved to the fire exits, the balcony, and the bar at the back of the hall.		After the match, Bloody Bill Skullion took a moment to show me his affection.
	Bill Skullion gets a mouthful of a great magazine, Your Own Worst Enemy		Dane Jarris executes his patented "levitate and stare" move on a prone Gord Rease
	"Sexy Baby" Jamie Jackson wishes he hadn't left his glasses in the dressing room		One of the Hollywood Hunks smashes one of the All Knighters into one of the tables at the bar
	An All-Knighter returns the favor, and the table.		I'll have a rye & ginger, a Sleeman's, and ... hmm .. a flying Hollywood Hunk ... d'oh!
	Dangerboy chucks L'artiste over the railing, back toward the ring		Dangerboy comes flying off the top rope at L'artiste. I asked if it hurt, and he said, "Dat's right." (Inside joke, I guess.) You (and I) missed the dive off the balcony
	Here's me near the start of the battle royal. I'm the bored-looking one in the white shirt		Total Lee Awesome about to headbutt me. Yow.
	Danger Boy Derek Wylde fondling my lucious breasts. Actually, about to throw me over the top		That's me on my way to the floor. At this piont, the crowd's cheering "You're hardcore! You're hardcore!"
	Yup. Here's the floor. The ref tells me a moment later that I split my lip. More accurately, another rassler did it		Look ma, no stitches! I asked my colleague Richard to snap a photo before I went to get cleaned up. My pretty face! Ruined! Nah. I'm still a cutie

August 7, 1998 - The Opera House, Toronto

Pictures & Video