“I want you to walk across the mat,” he told the group. “You’ll see that it isn’t as springy as a trampoline. Nor is it soft, like a mattress. It’s a rough sheet of canvas on a foam pad with three-quarter inch plywood underneath. It’s got some give, but not as much as you may have thought from watching wrestling on television.”
My father gave everyone a couple of minutes to familiarize themselves with the ring. Then he had us climb off it while he went over what we’d be doing.
“Today, I’m going to show you how to take a back bump,” he said. “A bump is a wrestling term for falling down.”
Some of the trainees murmured that they already knew what a bump was.
“You may have noticed that the middle of the ring is softer than the edges. It won’t always be possible, but when you bump, that’s where you want to land, because it’s the safest spot.”
He bounced on it to show the group what he meant.
“In order to take a back bump, you need to thrust your body forward, then spring back and drop. But right before you hit the mat, tuck in your chin to avoid hurting your head or your neck. Spread your arms out, palms down, with your feet in the air. Make sure to land on the upper part of your back, near the shoulder area. Watch.”
My father demonstrated the move. He repeated the instructions, then bumped three more times. Next, he asked Travis and Joe to model it.
“All right, now it’s your turn,” he said. “Who wants to go first?”
Everyone looked at each other, waiting for someone to volunteer. As much as I wanted to, I resisted the urge to raise my hand. I thought the group would expect me to know how to take a back bump already, and I didn’t want them to think I was showing off.
“I will,” the hulking Pete Vogel said, and stepped through the ropes.
My father stood him in the center of the ring. “Take a deep breath and exhale,” he said. “You always want to exhale before you bump, so you don’t get the wind knocked out of you. Now remember, thrust forward, then jump back. Hit the mat with the upper part of your back, chin tucked in, arms spread out, palms down and your feet in the air. You got that?”
“I think so,” Pete said uneasily.
“C’mon, Pete! You can do it,” Andy Robinson urged.
“Show us how it’s done,” George Galloway said.
“Do it, bro!” Joaquín Luna shouted.
Pete hesitated for a moment, then sprang back and crashed on the mat, full force. I couldn’t help but picture a hippo being flipped backwards.
“Yeow, that hurt!” he cried, arching his back.
“That’s because you landed on the lower part of your back,” my father said. “Try it again.”
Pete took another bump. This time he hit the mat with his shoulder area.
“Good, but lift your feet a little higher,” my father told him. “You don’t want to risk breaking an ankle. Pretend you’re a baby getting ready for a diaper change.”
The group laughed.
Pete took four successive back bumps. After the last one, he stood and bowed, and we clapped for him.
“Great job, Vogel,” my father said. “All right, who’s next?”
To my surprise, Valen climbed through the ropes. Without waiting for my father to give her the go-ahead, she took a fast bump. She winced a little, then got up and did it again. And again. And again. Each time she did, we cheered her on. When she was done, Misty, encouraged by Valen’s bravery, went next.
After that, my father divided us into three groups. He kept one, and Travis and Joe took the other two. Goose was assigned to my father and wanted me to join him, but I didn’t feel confident that my father would give me his full attention, so I went with Travis. I was tempted to work with Joe’s group because Valen and Misty were part of it, but I didn’t want the girls to suspect that I was attracted to them.
Some of the guys in my group, like Matt Perryman and Juan Serrano, were able to perform the back bump correctly on their first try. Others botched it a few times before getting it right. When I took my turn, Travis praised me, saying, “You’re a natural at this, Jess. But then, why wouldn’t you be?”
Once everyone was done, my father brought us together. “How many of you can play a musical instrument?” he asked.
Several hands went up, but not mine, even though I could play the guitar, and to a certain extent, the drums, because the question wasn’t meant for me.
One trainee said he used to play the tenor sax in his high school band. Another said he played the trombone in his. Juan Serrano told my father he played the piano, which caught his interest.
“Me, too,” he said. “I took lessons from a sweet old lady name Miss Lavender. You any good at it?”
“I think so,” Juan said. “I’m our church’s pianist.”
“Excellent. Well, the reason I asked if you played an instrument is because if you’re like me, you didn’t become an accomplished musician overnight. You had to practice over and over and over. I used to go to Miss Lavender’s house for an hour each week. But if I only practiced the piano during the time I was there, I wouldn’t have learned anything. What I’m saying is that we’ll teach you the skills, but it’ll be up to you to practice them on your own. The Factory is open every day, except Sundays, and you’re welcome to come anytime to work out. Either Coach McKeon or Coach Ellis or I will be here to assist you. I don’t hold classes on Fridays or Saturdays, so the four rings will be available to you all day. I suggest you make good use of them.”
With the limited amount of time I had left before I started school, I knew I’d have to spend tons of hours at the Factory. Goose mowed lawns with his uncle, but maybe he could ask for some time off, and we could practice together.
For our next lesson, my father said, “One of the most basic moves in professional wrestling is running the ropes. In a moment, I’m going to show you how to do it. But first, let me explain that this is an eighteen-by-eighteen-foot ring, which is the standard size for most wrestling rings, although some may be smaller, others a little larger. Whenever you climb inside any ring, you want to get an idea of how many steps you need to take to get from one side to the other in order to know how to pace your speed.”
My father crossed the ring in four long steps to illustrate what he meant.
“Now, there’s a certain technique to running the ropes, so listen closely. As you run toward them, right before you hit the ropes, turn your body and lean against them with your back. Grab the top rope with one hand and the middle rope with the other. The reason for this is that it’s always possible that the ropes could break, and you want to have something to hold onto. Also, if the ropes are loose, it’ll keep you from falling through them. Watch.”
Back and forth, my father went, taking long strides across the ring. As he did, he hit the ropes with his back, while grabbing them for just a second, before releasing them and springing forward.
Travis and Joe followed up his demonstration by performing the maneuver, too.
“It’s only fair to warn you that when you hit the ropes, it’s going to sting, and it might leave you with some bruises,” my father said. “After all, these are steel cables you’re running into. But you need to hit them hard to give the illusion that your opponent has flung you forcefully against them. It’ll also help you with momentum during your sequences.” He looked around for someone to try it. “All right, Guzmán, come up here. Let’s see what you can do.”
Goose gawked at me, surprised that he’d been chosen.
“It’s okay,” I told him. “You’ll do fine.”
He climbed inside the ring and walked across it to measure the distance. Then he took a running start. When he neared the ropes, he spun around and leaned gently against them.
“Don’t slow down, Guzmán!” my father shouted. “Come on, hit those ropes! Hard!”
Goose ran the ropes again and again, grimacing each time he hit them, until he looked as if he might pass out.
“All right, you can stop now,” my father told him. “Good job, Guzmán.”
Goose staggered out of the ring and was about to rejoin me, when his eyes suddenly widened. He hurried to the restroom, but before he could make it, he vomited on the floor. I jumped out of my seat and escorted him to the restroom, while Travis grabbed a bucket and a mop to clean the mess.
Goose rinsed his mouth, then blew his nose on a strip of toilet paper. “I don’t know if I can do this, man,” he moaned.
“Sure, you can,” I said. “This happens all the time. That’s why Travis had the bucket and mop ready.”
I gave Goose some time to compose himself. Then we returned to our seats.
The trainees and I practiced running the ropes with our respective groups. Again, Travis praised me when I breezed through my drills. If my father noticed how well I was doing, he didn’t say anything.
The last lesson of the evening was on how to perform rolls. We tried our best, but by that time, we were worn out, and we flopped more than we rolled.
My father concluded the session by showing us clips of ACW matches on the jumbo screen of wrestlers executing the moves we’d learned.
“These guys and gals started out just like you,” he said. “The thing is, they wanted to wrestle for the ACW bad enough, so they found a way to get there. Now some of you may decide that this is as far as you want to go, and that’s fine. I’ll be happy to use you in our shows. But if you want to make it to the big leagues, you’re going to have to work harder at this than anything you’ve ever done.”
As my father was addressing the group, he didn’t realize he was also speaking to me, and I was taking his words more seriously than anyone in the room.