Recently, WWE's official website conducted a series of interviews with the best and brightest of professional sports. They call this segment "Breaking the Count," which is a wrestling reference, but could very well be a Sesame Street reference. Members of the Chicago Blackhawks — the 2010 Stanley Cup Champions — were the most notable athletes to break the count, answering five tough questions with five tough, salary-cap-strapped answers. Also, Chris Carter of the New York Mets has done some answering with a sub-.250 response average. Therefore, he successfully gave a reply for every fourth question. Good for him.
At this time, I am not a professional athlete, but I have dabbled in numerous competitive sports in the past. In high school, I was a part of the school's soccer, baseball, and basketball teams. They used to call me "Superstar" for my dynamic athleticism. The only problem was that I played these sports simultaneously. Before kicking the soccer ball into the net, I would try to hit it with a baseball bat while shooting the J with my other hand. This technique may not sound that unorthodox to some of you, but while I was trying to play three sports at once, I did so underwater. The swim team needed me.
Even though I am now fully committed to the Internet writing/gangster rap game, that does not mean I am willing to leave my sporting life behind. Thanks to WWE's Breaking the Count, the marriage between my old and new self has been made. After I answer these questions, who knows what could happen? The Swerved could be drafted by a sports organization somehow. LeBron James and I could be hooping it up on the same team, winning title after title for the Vancouver Grizzlies. I might bolt to Russia and play in the Kontinental Hockey League as a left winger. The possibilities are infinite.
In sports, sources tell me that it does not matter whether you win or lose, but how you play the game. As far as wrestling-related interviews are concerned, I am undefeated with the majority of my victories decided by unintentional count-out against Primo. With that sparkling record, I guess I'm playing the game in an awesome to super awesome fashion. I am going to rule these queries with an iron-answering fist.
I would have to say that my favourite wrestler as a child was The Godfather. He was such a vibrant, family-friendly character who appealed to any and all age groups. While the neighbourhood kids were playing Cops and Robbers or Cowboys and Indians, I was playing Pimps and Hoes. The object of Pimps and Hoes is similar to tag in that the hoes must run away from the pimps in order to gain their freedom. As for the pimps, they must chase after the hoes to gain their cut of the profits. The game ends when either the hoes start a new life — studying psychology at community college and working part-time shifts at Denny's — or the pimps get their money and return the hoes to their Ho-V (recreational Hummer for prostitutes).
Plus, I was a big fan of The Godfather's Ho Train. Unlike other young boys, I was not enamoured with the sexy yet skanky ladies. I just enjoyed watching a group of people moving in a train-like formation. Who doesn't these days? The Quad City DJs would have been quite proud of such a train.
My favourite memory of WWE was Mae Young's enthusiastic display at the 2000 Miss Royal Rumble swimsuit contest. While such legendary Divas as The Kat and Barbara Bush showed their attractive thingies, Mae's shocking appearance shall enlighten my soul for the rest of my life. Once I saw Miss Young's aged, prosthetic, anterior protuberances out in the open, I gained a newfound appreciation and respect for the legally blind. My eyes allow me to take in the beauty of my surroundings, but maybe I don't need that kind of luxury anymore. Thanks to Mae Young, I have decided to interact with the world around me through Braille only.
Certain moments in WWE history should feel good to the touch, such as Sable's handprint bra unveiling or every other Diva Pillow Fight. On the other hand, I do not look forward to any event that features the de-pantsing of Triple H or Ric Flair. My innocent hands aren't ready to cope with traumatic experiences yet.
In my opinion, the name of a wrestler's signature move is as important as the name and personality of the wrestler himself. For instance, I am not going to cheer for a wrestler who ends his matches with a hip toss called "This is a Hip Toss." That name is neither flashy nor creative, which suggests to me that the man behind the name is no better. The best signature moves in wrestling are the ones with a catchy yet simplistic name that can be hit on anyone from anywhere, such as the Stone Cold Stunner, Rock Bottom, and the Superkick/Sweet Chin Music. For my signature move, I will not settle for anything less than a name fit for a WWE megastar.
Taking my own personal interests and athletics abilities into account, I have invented a move that combines the unpredictable and flashy Inverted 450 Splash with the atomic deadliness of the leg drop. The working name for it is "That Time John Stamos Went Skydiving on the Day of His Wedding on Full House, Only to Get Stuck in a Tree." I shall signal for the move by summoning The Rippers with an electric conch, which was given to me by The Beach Boys after performing with them in Hawaii.
Maryse's recent pairing with Ted DiBiase has inspired me to take on Maryse Ouellet as my valet. You see, Ted and I are similar in that we both have millions of dollars to spend on valets that can accompany us to the top of the ramp, but do not wish to walk any further. A girl who chooses to watch me accompany myself the rest of the way when she is supposed to walk down the entire ramp is my kind of woman. My other kind of woman is a lady who needs my assistance when entering the ring. Since I hired her, it is my job to safely get her into the ring as I get into that same ring without any help whatsoever.
If I had to pick a former or present WWE Superstar to escort me to the ring, I would give the honour to "Hacksaw" Jim Duggan. For years, he has been wandering around America with a 2x4 in hand. A construction site wants that 2x4 back and I am trying to return it to them. I would buy them a new one, but they know what their 2x4 looks like. I couldn't fool them.
Professional wrestling analysis is a lot like World Wrestling Entertainment in that at any time, my kneecap can just kind of blow over to the side of my leg. Every week, I am in danger of tearing my entire pectoral muscle completely off my shoulder. Intense sessions of wrestling criticism have forced me to have surgery five times in my left knee. The other day, my tendon was torn off the bone and I couldn't hardly lift my leg anymore. With my every article I write, my body and my life are on the line.
In conclusion, perhaps I should stop writing articles with my kneecap, my pectoral muscle, my left knee, and my leg. I believe using those body parts rather than my fingers and hands might have something to do with my injuries. Sadly, I never learned how to type on the computer in any other way. I hope I am safe while driving and eating as I tend to steer with my face and eat with my elbow.
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