Post by TIA Promotions on Oct 27, 2022 9:55:20 GMT -5
WHY ARE YOU A WRESTLER?
There were times when the tires were bald, and the motels were cheap. I’d take any gig just to work in front of people. It didn’t matter if it was for 30 people at a high school or 3000 people at the arena. All I wanted was to show people all the wonderful things that the human body is capable of doing when given a stage to perform.
I didn’t always want to be a pro-wrestler. For most of my life, I just wanted to be a functioning adult. I wanted to be able to pay rent, buy groceries, fill the gas tank. It wasn’t easy. My parents didn’t bless me with a fantastic financial situation. But I WAS given good genes.
I’m 6’ 2”, about 250 lbs, of grass-fed American beef. I’m farm strong and military forged. Relentless, resilient, loyal. I’m a mean son of a bitch when it comes time to getting work done, but I’m not ambitious enough to go out and take what others are fighting for.
For a lot of people like me, life just happens TO us. We react. We complain. We make the best of our situation. We ask for forgiveness when asking for permission would have been the cleaner way to go. But when the heavens have blessed you with an iron heart, you trust it, despite what your lying eyes and caveman brain tell you.
Professional wrestling found me when my life was already halfway over. It wasn’t a calling or a lifelong dream. I wasn’t born into it. It was just something that I had a talent for. The skills I learned while in the military and while in the MMA cage have given me the means to be reborn, as an entertainer in the ring. I’m doing I fine job so far… I guess.
I started pro-wrestling as a favor to a friend. He needed someone to fill in for a tag match and I knew how to take a bump. That’s me. I’m a good bleeder. I made a lot of mistakes, especially in the beginning, but the technique worked itself out really quick. It took longer to get my head right.
The life of an athlete, especially as a pro-wrestler is difficult on you. On your body, of course, but even more so on your mind. Every match is a psychological battle. Balancing your need for attention and validation with your company’s obligation to put on an entertaining show. This puts performers in the unfortunate situation of needing to take unnecessary risks, just for the sake of entertaining a crowd.
Your family pays the bill for your mental health. They keep things running smoothly at home, while you’re off, in cars, and on airplanes. In hotels, and in front of cameras. They clean up your mess when you leave. They hold their breath when you’re in danger. They welcome you when you come back home. I wish I could say this is for them, but that’s not true.
So why am I a wrestler anyway? I’ve evaded the question long enough. Why would anybody want to do high-risk low-reward job? The answer isn’t obvious, but it IS simple. If other wrestlers had been thrown at war and death and recovery like I have, they’d be able to see professional wrestling for what it really is; an opportunity to connect people. It’s the highest form of art left on this planet. And the best part of the job is that you get to meet talented people from all over the world. Living legends. Wrestling Gods. You get to share meals with them. Laugh with them. Bleed with them. And they appreciate you for it. Through shared experience, we find the meaning in our own lives. That’s what profession wrestling is for me.
It feels nice to have fans, but they aren’t your real friends. Recognition and trophies look great on your shelf, but they won’t keep you warm at night. The reason I’m a wrestler is more profound. I wrestle because it makes me feel like a part of the human condition.
My name is William Bernard Glover. You may know me as Buster Gloves. I’m a professional wrestler. And I do this job because it’s makes me happy to be alive. I see the gold. I hear the crowd. I smell the money. But those things fade. Glory is only temporary my friends. But wrestling… is forever.
There were times when the tires were bald, and the motels were cheap. I’d take any gig just to work in front of people. It didn’t matter if it was for 30 people at a high school or 3000 people at the arena. All I wanted was to show people all the wonderful things that the human body is capable of doing when given a stage to perform.
I didn’t always want to be a pro-wrestler. For most of my life, I just wanted to be a functioning adult. I wanted to be able to pay rent, buy groceries, fill the gas tank. It wasn’t easy. My parents didn’t bless me with a fantastic financial situation. But I WAS given good genes.
I’m 6’ 2”, about 250 lbs, of grass-fed American beef. I’m farm strong and military forged. Relentless, resilient, loyal. I’m a mean son of a bitch when it comes time to getting work done, but I’m not ambitious enough to go out and take what others are fighting for.
For a lot of people like me, life just happens TO us. We react. We complain. We make the best of our situation. We ask for forgiveness when asking for permission would have been the cleaner way to go. But when the heavens have blessed you with an iron heart, you trust it, despite what your lying eyes and caveman brain tell you.
Professional wrestling found me when my life was already halfway over. It wasn’t a calling or a lifelong dream. I wasn’t born into it. It was just something that I had a talent for. The skills I learned while in the military and while in the MMA cage have given me the means to be reborn, as an entertainer in the ring. I’m doing I fine job so far… I guess.
I started pro-wrestling as a favor to a friend. He needed someone to fill in for a tag match and I knew how to take a bump. That’s me. I’m a good bleeder. I made a lot of mistakes, especially in the beginning, but the technique worked itself out really quick. It took longer to get my head right.
The life of an athlete, especially as a pro-wrestler is difficult on you. On your body, of course, but even more so on your mind. Every match is a psychological battle. Balancing your need for attention and validation with your company’s obligation to put on an entertaining show. This puts performers in the unfortunate situation of needing to take unnecessary risks, just for the sake of entertaining a crowd.
Your family pays the bill for your mental health. They keep things running smoothly at home, while you’re off, in cars, and on airplanes. In hotels, and in front of cameras. They clean up your mess when you leave. They hold their breath when you’re in danger. They welcome you when you come back home. I wish I could say this is for them, but that’s not true.
So why am I a wrestler anyway? I’ve evaded the question long enough. Why would anybody want to do high-risk low-reward job? The answer isn’t obvious, but it IS simple. If other wrestlers had been thrown at war and death and recovery like I have, they’d be able to see professional wrestling for what it really is; an opportunity to connect people. It’s the highest form of art left on this planet. And the best part of the job is that you get to meet talented people from all over the world. Living legends. Wrestling Gods. You get to share meals with them. Laugh with them. Bleed with them. And they appreciate you for it. Through shared experience, we find the meaning in our own lives. That’s what profession wrestling is for me.
It feels nice to have fans, but they aren’t your real friends. Recognition and trophies look great on your shelf, but they won’t keep you warm at night. The reason I’m a wrestler is more profound. I wrestle because it makes me feel like a part of the human condition.
My name is William Bernard Glover. You may know me as Buster Gloves. I’m a professional wrestler. And I do this job because it’s makes me happy to be alive. I see the gold. I hear the crowd. I smell the money. But those things fade. Glory is only temporary my friends. But wrestling… is forever.