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Sabrina shut the door to her office and began searching through an impressive VHS collection that occupied two entire walls of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. The office itself was small: enough room to comfortably fit a desk, a couple of chairs, and a filing cabinet. It uncomfortably fit a second filing cabinet, a stack of banker's boxes, and rolling table with a television and VCR.
The other walls had been adorned with posters of past Queens of War events and framed photos of a young Iron Maiden’s greatest triumphs. A photo of Iron Maiden hung on the side wall, her face masked in crimson as she hoisted the Queen of Queens Championship belt high in the air. A worn, brown leather championship belt with a circular, silver faceplate had been mounted on the back wall. It looked timeless, although Alicia didn’t recognize the design.
"Okay," began the Professler. "Let's talk about Connie Rocket."
For once, Alicia could chime in on a subject alongside Sabrina as a peer. "I've followed her career ever since I started watching QoW! She was a big track star in Japan before she joined the roster last year, right? She just came back from a knee injury-"
Sabrina cut the biography short, "Alicia. That's stuff I expect you to know. That's something a fan would know. When you're fighting someone, I want you to know her better than family. For example, what kind of knee injury was it? How're you going to attack it?" Sabrina found the video cassette she was looking for and pushed it into the VCR.
Cold reality hit the new wrestler in the face like a bucket of water and a baseball bat. Alicia knew she would be hurting people and getting hurt, but this felt different. "Wait. You want me to target the knee she injured? I'm not sure that's okay with me."
Sabrina burst into a hearty fit of laughter. She held up a finger to indicate she needed a moment to contain herself. "That's dumb," she said, still chuckling to herself. For a moment, Alicia felt like she had throughout the month Sabrina antagonized her. "Okay, so let's get serious. After this I'm going to teach you how to do a Figure Four Leglock. You know what that is, right? First off, like I said, you need to know the woman you're fighting. 'Track star in Japan' doesn't begin to cover it. All kinds of sports, laundry list of records. Good at everything. She does the heptathlon. Know what that means? Six events."
"Seven," Alicia corrected.
Sabrina shot her a watch-it glare. As a joke, Alicia assumed. Hoped.
She continued, "You know she's half-American and half-Japanese, but did you know she was scouted by the US Olympic team in high school? And it wasn't just 'a knee injury.' She tore her meniscus. There, that's your homework done. Next time, I expect you to do it." Alicia could feel the heat rise in her cheeks again. Sabrina smiled to herself. "Now for my favorite part: tape."
Alicia groaned silently to herself. Nothing sucked the fun out of hockey like tape days. She hated fighting to stay awake in a dark room while the same minute or even few seconds of film replayed ad infinitum, soundtracked to excruciating analysis alchemizing something dynamic into something clinical. Coach wasn't there in the moment. What was the value in calling out a mistake three days after the fact with the benefit of hindsight and a bird's eye view? The game was played on gameday.
“I want to start by showing you Connie Rocket vs. Daisy the Berserker and Connie Rocket vs. Lady Gallows, then we’ll get into some specific situations from her other matches.” Sabrina leaned forward in her chair, getting into the lecture. “I know you can probably tell me Connie’s moveset pretty much, but do you know how she lands it? She’s not just quick—she’s sudden. She’s going to harass you, she’s going to hit you, and it’s going to hurt. But she’s five-eight, maybe 145? She can’t beat you that way. To win, she has to take risks, and she tips those risks in her favor by baiting her opponent into making mistakes, and then she capitalizes. Watch. Here’s an example of what not to do.”
Sabrina fast-forwarded through the ring entrances and pressed play on the VCR as the two women exited their corners. Connie Rocket removed and tossed aside a red sweatband from her forehead as she circled her opponent, freeing her short, boyish black hair. The camera tightened on the former heptathlete. She looked even younger than Alicia. The enthusiasm on Connie's golden tan complexion flattened into a look of determination as she turned her attention from the fans to her opponent.
She wore her usual red track shorts with two white stripes down the sides, a yellow sleeveless track shirt with a red and white rocketship with the word "ROCKET" trailing behind in smoke, and completed the look with a pair of bright red and white wrestling shoes with orange flames on the sides.
"We've got a stacked card, so we're right into the action tonight on Friday Night Warzone," came a familiar voice from the TV. "I'm Helene Rivera, joined as always by Christopher Michaels. There's the bell, and here comes Connie, hot off the blocks! Daisy the Berserker closes the gap. She wants a test of strength, but Connie does not seem interested."
A male voice that sounded like it belonged to an adult child star piped up next, “Exiled to the hinterlands of the Pacific Northwest by the commune she once called home, Daisy’s renounced the ways of peace and love, and now the tree-hugger with a killer bearhug is all Connie’s problem tonight. Especially following that loss to Trace Roote last-” Sabrina muted the television, rolling her eyes.
The lean but muscular Connie Rocket danced just outside of her opponent's reach. Whenever Daisy tried to engage, the nimbler combatant slipped under, through, or around the larger woman, resetting the situation. The decorated athlete spent the first minute literally running circles around her opponent, and it was clearly souring the anti-pacifist's mood.
Alicia knew the Berserker was no slouch, except for her posture. The vegan barbarian preferred to wrestle barefoot and wore a dried, dead daisy behind her left ear. Standing six-foot even and weighing in at almost 190, the bruiser cut an intimidating figure.
Daisy wore a severe look on her face and grew more aggressive each time Connie eluded her. She rushed in and swung a side-kick at her opponent, revealing a tattoo on her ankle of an upside-down peace symbol drenched in blood. She caught Berserker’s kick in one hand and kept a tight hold on the limb.
In one swift motion, the smaller wrestler ducked underneath Daisy’s leg and slipped behind her, leapt up, and grabbed her larger opponent’s neck while falling to the mat with a picture-perfect Neckbreaker. The Rocket was already on her feet by the time Daisy rose to her knees. Connie faked high with a kick to get the Berserker to raise her arms, then delivered it low, hitting the bigger woman in the stomach and doubling her over. Connie rushed the ropes perpendicular to the reformed pacifist, ricocheted off, and struck Daisy in the side of the head with a running knee. Sabrina paused the footage.
Alicia looked perplexed. "I don't get it. What was she supposed to do? Connie wasn't going to lock up."
"Zerker didn't need to lock up. She wanted a test of strength or a collar-and-elbow, but when Connie didn't bite - and she won't for you either - Daisy needed to change her plan. She could've hemmed Connie into a corner and made her fight to get out. Make sense?" Alicia nodded.
Like Connie's opponent, she had fixated on the obvious answer instead of the right one. Seeing no further questions, Sabrina fast-forwarded to the next teachable moment and hit play.
"Watch this next part. She has Connie dead to rights and look what happens."
"Dead to rights" was an understatement. Daisy was in complete control of the match, having snuffed out an attempt at a top-rope move by the track star. The Berserker stood on the middle ropes in the corner with her smaller opponent slung upside-down over her shoulder in a fireman's carry. The anti-hippie leapt from the middle rope, sat out, and drove the crown of Connie's head straight down onto the canvas with an Avalanche Brainbuster. Connie Rocket instantly crumpled to the mat in a heap, practically motionless. Despite having the upper hand, the exhausted competitor in bell-bottom fur leggings was in no condition to try and pin her destroyed opponent right away.
Zerker dragged herself toward Connie, but somehow the ailing star athlete managed to roll listlessly just out of reach. Daisy the Berserker crawled just behind Connie, who somehow always remained a fingertip away as she rolled under the ropes and out of the ring to catch her breath. The Berserker remained in pursuit, crawling to the edge of the ring where Connie fell. She leaned over the ring apron and reached greedily for her smaller opponent. It was exactly what Connie expected her to do.
With a heroic surge of strength, the heptathlete sprang off the floor and wrapped both arms around her opponent's neck, took two quick steps toward the crowd barricade, and dropped to her back, pulling Daisy out of the ring headfirst onto the thin padding below with a devastating Cutter.
Now on the outside, both women had until the count of 20 to get back in the ring or be disqualified. The two competitors rose to their knees and traded haymakers, with the Daisy getting the better of the exchange. She grabbed the Rocket by what looked like both ears and blasted her with a powerful headbutt. Zerker dragged Connie to her feet, tossed her back inside the ring, and followed her in.
Daisy rose to her feet and picked Connie up for another headbutt. Just before impact, Connie grabbed the back of the larger woman's head while dropping to the mat in a seated position, causing Daisy's chin to slam hard into the top of Connie's head, stunning the Berserker. The Rocket rolled onto her back while keeping a firm grip on her opponent's head, tucked her legs to her chest, then lanced both feet up into the Berserker's sternum, tossing the larger woman up and over and onto her back, completing the combination attack Connie called "Rocket Fuel."
Running on pure adrenaline, the track star kipped to her feet, raced to the nearest corner, and vaulted up and onto the top turnbuckle. Alicia knew what came next. Gravity stepped out for a smoke break as the Rocket took flight, performing a Corkscrew 450 Splash known as "T-minus-3" onto Daisy's ribs. Already in position from the landing, Connie hooked a leg and locked in a pin while the referee delivered the three-count. Connie rolled off her opponent and gasped for air as the referee lifted her arm, declaring the worn-out track star the victor.
"See? Zerker had all day to figure out what she was going to do, but she got in a rush, and she paid for it. Connie's a runner; she wants you to chase her, and if you do, she will embarrass you over and over until you lose." Sabrina ejected the tape and returned it to its cardboard sleeve. "Okay, so now I'm going to show you her versus Lady Gallows, and you'll see what you can do to Connie if she doesn't get in your head."
"Wait," Alicia interjected, listening to the pit in her stomach. "That's the match she got hurt. I- I saw it the first time."
"You'll need to get used to it sooner or later." Sabrina hit play.
* * * * *
Finally, Alicia found herself in the part of the building where she felt most comfortable. Even better, it was her turn to apply the Figure Four rather than take it.\. Teacher and student stood facing each other in the middle of the ring. Alicia dropped down and lunged at her trainer, shooting the legs and sending Sabrina to the canvas on her back. Alicia grabbed her trainer's boots, and Sabrina talked her through the rest.
"Right knee flush to the back of my left knee. Release the right foot with your left hand, step over… keep turning, face me. Now grab the left foot with your free hand, step into place, fall back, and apply downward torque with your leEEEGGS! Hey!" shouted Sabrina.
Alicia wished she hadn't laughed - at least not as loudly as she did. "Wow, that really works!" she exclaimed cheerfully. "All I have to do is just tense up and torque like-"
"HEY!" the trainer protested again, louder and angrier than before. "Alright, this is how you learn." Sabrina grit her teeth and shifted her weight, rocking her entire body from left to right, gradually picking up momentum.
Alicia had seen this before. "Hey! Wait wait wait wait wait Sab I was joking!" She groaned in pain as Sabrina rolled the both of them onto their stomachs, reversing the move and allowing her to bridge up on her arms to shift even more pressure onto Alicia's thigh and knee.
"Do you think you should've maybe waited until I got to the part about reversals?" Sabrina asked.
The remorseful trainee slapped the mat and cried out in pain, "I'm sorry! Yes! Give! Give!"
Sabrina released the hold, and Alicia immediately rolled onto her back, clutching her knee. "So what just happened? You realized you were beat, and what did you do? You gave up. Connie will do the same. Trust me. You're not going to hurt her worse than she can handle. She'll tap out before you do any permanent damage."
Alicia found it oddly reassuring.
"By the way, I got you something for your match. Remind me to give it to you after, okay?"
* * * * *
The winter had been as long as it had been cold: very. The newly christened wrestler dreaded the jog from her powder blue sedan to the door at the bottom of those six concrete steps. Not that the upholstered interior of the misbehaving Perletta was terribly warm to begin with. The car choked and sputtered as it sat in idle. Alicia killed the engine to be safe.
At least she wouldn't literally be paying her dues any more--only in every other sense. In a couple of months, she could probably afford to get the car fixed. She turned up the collar of her white wool coat, pulled up her hood, and made a break for the house. She was thankful the snow had been sparse throughout the colder months, meaning her walks thus far from hadn't been harrowing; merely treacherous.
She navigated the bushes leading to her door. Over a month of below-freezing temperatures meant the jagged wooden tendrils of branches raking her flesh in the bitter cold were at least spider-free jagged wooden tendrils. Once through the door, she breezed through the evening routine: shower, eat, brush, bed. Mostly breezed, anyway. It was between the third and fourth steps where Alicia got stuck.
On top of the white, wooden dresser by the bed sat a Langston University picture frame containing a photo of her with the team, hoisting the Division II Collegiate Sports Cup. That was the MVP game. The proudest night of her life. Four-and-a-half-years seemed an eternity ago. Alicia opened the closet door and pushed aside the work and casual clothes to reveal a second, hidden clothing rack behind the first because the architect who designed the house was a trickster gnome. Next to the workout clothes hung a lifetime of game and practice jerseys, which she promised herself she'd Someday find a use for. The infamous "Someday," known associate of the elusive "Tomorrow."
Alicia peered into the gym bag by her bed and withdrew a red wrestling singlet. It wasn't flattering, but it was functional. Except for the color, it looked almost identical to the one Sabrina wore as Iron Maiden. She placed the singlet on a hanger and put it on the rack next to her championship jersey. It was a breathtakingly thoughtful gift from someone from whom Alicia had never seen nor expected such a gesture. Becoming a wrestler had been one of the hardest things Alicia had ever done–maybe the hardest–but it never seemed impossible. She thanked Sabrina for that. Alicia felt ready. She was ready. Next Friday couldn't come soon enough.
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