More of a confessional than a story.

I wrap my wrists before I fight. When I was growing up, I saw Terry Funk doing it and it always stuck with me that I should wrap up my fists. The idea is that when your fists are taped, it protects them and allows you to hit harder. It looks cool, really, and I can pretend that I am Terry Funk. As Mick and Terry told me once, I really wish you had better heroes than us growing up. You'd be able to walk today if you did. Well, I can walk, but with a limp. I am fully aware that sooner or later I will have to get an operation on my knees and back. I am just trying to hold off the inevitable handicapped sticker as long as I can.

But I am here today to talk about wrist tape. Not me. Well, me. But in metaphor through wrist tape.

My first fight, I had no wrist tape. And I had to change in a room with no doors. There was a toilet in the middle of the room and I was so nervous that I had to go a hundred times, in front of everyone. Then, I screwed up the first move.

I learned to spend a lot of time on my tape. Intricate colors. Fancy wraps. It's hard to do yourself because it rips all your forearm hair off. Sometimes, it is too tight and you can't even move your hands. I am good enough now, after 13 years, that I can just do it without even thinking about it.

It can be functional. Unfortunately, I got the reputation for throwing myself into shit. Over shit. Through shit. Don't ask. It all goes back to the childhood heroes I picked. The other night, I got thrown out of the ring and was doing a perfect handstand above the ropes. Now, any normal person would look down and realize that they are going to fall 12 feet into concrete. No mats. No stop. And like I've said before, in those moments, it's the only time I am in control and do not worry. Life makes sense when death and you share a shot. That's how I look at it. Chance. If I was sane in those moments, if I was me, not the other me, I would be afraid. Very, very afraid. But the other me laughs. He laughs out loud, symbols all over his face.

People tell me, don't just ask me, all the time to quit. The truth is, it's a drug. The best drug ever. Once I hear my music, once I get my energy, everything that is me is gone, for once. I get a vacation from me. I wish I could do it more.

I started painting my face a year in and its my armor. I close my eyes when I am done and tell myself that I have to go away and allow the other me out. To not be rational or care any more. To abandon any and all self preservation and niceness. This is my lizard primal brain and he only lives for that 10 minutes he gets let out every once in awhile. Usually, I put an X on my forehead. People always ask me why. I tell them it's to block out my third eye so that I can properly limit my ability to worry about safety. Maybe. I wear lipstick, well, use it as paint. Black lips. A line through my eyes that I always wanted to tattoo on my face. Sometimes it symbolizes Lucifer falling to Hell after God threw him away. Other times, it's just the scars that you can't see. And sometimes, it means absolutely nothing.

For such a manly sport, I wear a lot of makeup.

Was this about wrist tape? Oh yes.

I realized Saturday night that I absentmindedly write on my tape before I go out. Some kind of talisman. Protection. My friend used to write the people who had died that he loved on his. My fake brother writes the names of wrestlers that he loves. On my wrists, I always write the same thing. I have for years now. No, I won't tell you what it is. Sometimes it makes me happy to write it. Other times, it makes me sad.

So why do I write it?

In those last fleeting moments of sanity, I want to leave something behind. A message. If I don't make it, it is written on me. I remember the first time I realized I had that fear that this time is it. That this time, I won't walk away. So when it happens, if it happens, I want to leave behind something so that my message gets to the right person. Kind of like, well, I don't have a will any more. So, this is as close to a will as I will get. I find wills fatalistic.

So why? Again. Why?

Because in the face of my lack of faith, my self destructiveness, my black and white view of the world, my put upon outward nonchalance, the secret message that I have written on my wrist for the last few years is the only truth in my life. And that's the truth I want to leave behind if all my gambles don't pay off.

Photo - S
Words - S