credit: reversefigure4
Eclipse's note: This is the first Book It in the new "Best of the Internet" series that is coming to Wrestling Dungeon's Book It forum. This Book It now begins in its complete glory. It will take a long time to finish updating it so be prepared to wait a little bit to read all of it. It's also still going so I will update it from time to time.
I laughed as I read it, although perhaps I should have cried at just how far a lie can go. If the truth is hidden long enough, does it cease to exist? People had been taken in by the lie, alright. This was what the wrestling fans of the general public believed – but they were wrong.
How could they possibly know the sinister truth behind the state of wrestling?
Still, it was a good history, as far as fiction went. I couldn’t blame this internet journo – he was just summing up what he believed to be true. I read through the tangle of lies about the wrestling world people have been taught to believe, this time in the shape of an article at
www.adamryland.co.uk.
Quote:
Ryland's Review of the Wrestling Revolution
The 1980's turned out a lot different to what everyone expected. Vince McMahon's attempt to dominate the US wrestling scene were foiled when the NWA stood up to him and called his bluff. Vince ended up losing the WWF name through bankruptcy. The NWA went on to be the dominant force in wrestling, although their very strength - many different members making up a larger whole - meant that no one promotion managed to go global.
As we come into the new Millenium, things are poised interestingly. Of the major NWA affiliates, three stand at a national level, ready to try to go global. A few cult promotions are becoming more popular, and are attempting to move to a national stage. Finally, some smaller regional promotions are springing up.
The Cast...
NWA: Calgary Stampede (National) - Owned by Stu Hart, NWA:CS are the only federation promoting out of Canada. Built around the best three graduates of the Hart Family Dungeon - Bret Hart, Chris Benoit and Chris Jericho - this federation relies more on straight heavily-athletic matches, and avoids gimmicks and shock angles.
NWA: East Coast (National) - Vince McMahon returned to wrestling by joining the NWA and promoting out of New York City. The promotion is built around big draws like Hogan, Rock and the Clique, and also includes Shane and Stephanie McMahon. The rest of the roster is made up of McMahon loyalists and assorted big men.
NWA: Texas (National) - Built on the legacy of the Von Erich's, Dusty Rhodes has taken control of NWA:TX. The promotion is a throwback to the 1980's, with much of the roster taken up by either veterans of that era, or local Texans. The major stars are Ric Flair, Steve Austin, Mark Callaway and Randy Savage.
NWA: Los Angeles (Cult) - A brainchild of Roddy Piper, NWA:LA is a two-tiered promotion. Once tier has a gritty urban feel, using people like the Gangstas to deliver chaotic violence. The other tier is a result of a deal struck with some Japanese federations, where some of their top talent like Mike Barton and Michael Modest are allowed to compete.
NWA: Mexico City (Cult) - The most popular grappler in Mexico, Konnan hung up his wrestling boots and became the promoter of the biggest promotion south of the border. Focussing almost entirely on lucha libre performers like Rey Misterio and Juvi Guerrera, NWA:MC features mostly high-flying bouts.
NWA: Strong Style (Cult) - Al Snow decided to try something different, and started up a US promotion based more on the Japanese style of stiff blows and submission holds. With close friend Dan Severn on board, a great talent roster was assembled, with names like Ken Shamrock and AJ Styles being the cream of the crop, plus a mass of Japanese talent due to links with other federations in the Orient.
NWA: Detroit Michigan (Regional) - This promotion is a no-frills federation run by Bill Watts. The action is brutal and realistic. The roster mainly consists of hard-hitting powerhouses like the Steiners and Road Warriors, but their main selling point is the presense of Brock Lesnar and Kurt Angle, who are the top two stars.
NWA: Hardcore City (Regional) - Based out of Philly, Paul Heyman's promotion is the bad boy of the NWA, always looking to use shock tactics. The roster consists entirely of Heyman loyalists like Tommy Dreamer, Tazz, and Stevie Richards.
At the current time, wrestling is not televised anywhere, although this is likely to change very soon. Which promotion will be first to reach the Global level?
Adam Ryland, August 1, 2003
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Ryland was close, as far as he went. Which pretty much meant that all he had right was the date – August, 2003. Everything else might as well have been a press release from a politician – what’s in it is strictly true, but all the important details are left out. The NWA dominates the wrestling scene, but not in the way Ryland, and everyone else thinks.
There are 8 major NWA federations. And THAT IS ALL. The entire American wrestling scene as it stands. I’m quite serious – I’m surprised people haven’t noticed yet. There are still foreign companies, of course – Puroresu is still operating strong in Japan. There is the odd European fed popping up in Germany and Russia, but that’s strictly small time... only a few steps up from Yardtards on trampolines.
The WWF was the only one who could have competed, but I can’t blame McMahon for selling out to the NWA – he had a family to think about, and God knows how far they could have pushed him with it. His daughter, Stephanie, still bears scars up and down her arms. It could be nothing but a simple accident, like the stories say. But I don't believe in accidents any more. If the WWF fell to simple bankruptcy, I'll eat my hat.
To the main point -
Every new indy fed that starts up without the NWA’s blessing ‘mysteriously’ fails. EVERY. LAST. ONE.
And do you want to know why?
The NWA is not what it seems. There are strong forces behind it, and crossing the NWA means crossing some serious people. The Mob, the Mafia – I don’t know about those. They could be nothing more than Hollywood fiction. But what I do know is this – the NWA is controlled, owned, and operated, by a dangerous man in the nasty business of organised crime.
Jacob Caulder. I don’t expect you to know the name, but it’s one that strike fear into my heart. Caulder isn’t the new Al Capone, of course. I suppose he might even be only relatively small-time, but I don’t know, and God knows I don’t want to know, how deep in corruption this world is. But back to Caulder. He is a crook, with his fingers in many pies. Drugs, guns, you name it… and wrestling.
Jacob Caulder is the man that runs the NWA. Not officially, of course – the NWA board owns and controls the franchise. And behinds the scenes, like an evil puppet master, Caulder owns and controls them. I could see why running the whole market would be profitable; collectively, the NWA territories were probably pulling in millions, maybe billions, every year. And Caulder took a good cut for keeping out the competition.
Each division is run by it’s own bookers like Heyman and Rhodes. As far as I know, these guys aren’t crooked. Nor are the wrestlers that work for the company. They don’t know what’s going on… but I think some must suspect by now.
I don’t mean to suggest the wrestling business is crooked. It’s as legit as it ever was. It’s just show business, and the show must go on. The matches are set, the promos are rolling. There’s comedy, drama, good wrestling action, and characters. It’s all sweet for wrestling fans.
But the NWA Monopoly – that stinks to high heaven.
Everyone who has stood up to Caulder has failed. Every wrestling company that has run against the NWA has fail.
Through bribes, extortion, threats, and I fear even violence, Caulder has kept his grip on the wrestling world. Not one new company succeeds – Caulder makes sure of it, by hook or by crook – and he’s not a man to be stopped by the boundaries of the law.
Everyone that has opposed the monopoly of the NWA has failed – until now.
I say it’s time for a stand. I say it’s time to show Caulder that freedom is not dead. I say the time has come, to fight back!
I will not be bribed. I will not corrupted. I will not be threatened. And I will not fall to the NWA.
I’m here to make one final stand. I am here to lead it:
The
Last Alliance of Wrestling.
LAW is coming for Jacob Caulder... and we won't be stopped.
--------------
I am a wrestling fan (more like fanatic), and my name is Chase Sumner. At least, that’s the name I use now. If you’ve guessed it’s not the one I was born with, you’re catching on to how this game goes.
I am… my mistake. I WAS a cop. I’d started out as a lawyer, but got the impression I wasn’t born to it. While my colleagues were re-reading precedents, I was marking out for Savage’s Flying Elbow Smash. While they were debating in chambers, I was choking on turnbuckle stuffing trying to work out how George Steele got over. Needless to say, I didn’t fit with the fancy shirt lifestyle of a lawyer. I picked a career where the law is actually enforced, not just read - I graduated from Police Academy and joined the force.
I damn sure learnt the law, though, which was what tipped me off to Caulder in the first place. I knew the monopoly laws, and as a wrestling fan, I’d noticed the NWA was quietly forming a hold on the business.
But I didn’t worry about it. I was just a simple beat officer. Involved in the odd exciting case, when I’d find myself the closest cop on call for a bank robbery, but for most part it was kiddy stuff. I gave out parking tickets, busted the odd dumb kid for smoking a joint in public… all and all I was nothing but a low-level grunt, as far as cops go. That is, until Stevie Cussler got involved.
Stevie Cussler was one of my oldest friends, and another big wrestling fanatic by nature. He even started up his own indy fed, Axe Handle Wrestling. Given I wasn’t narcotics, I never asked what he was smoking when he decided that was a good name. Then again, with a last name like Cussler, Stevie knew all about strange names. Despite the oddball title, AHW succeeded, in a small indy kind of way.
Which was good for me, because I was working security there. I was a rent-a-cop, basically – just keeping the peace for a few extra bucks. But AHW kept getting bigger – heck, it even grew up to it’s own little cult level. That’s were the NWA stepped in, and that’s when my career came crashing down around my ears.
Stevie had been getting some odd calls recently, suggesting he’d walk away from AHW if he knew what was good for him. At the same time, he received an EXTREMELY generous financial offer from the NWA to buy out his company. But Stevie wouldn’t sell – he loved the business. It was never about money to him. But the calls became more specific – downright threatening. And then it all came to a head at AHW Smash City, their first PPV.
The show went down without a hitch, but I noticed Stevie wasn’t in back watching the main event. That wasn’t like him. I got worried, and went out looking. Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t.
I found Stevie, alright – been held up against the wall outside the building by a 6 foot goon, who was waving a blackjack at Stevie’s face and lecturing him on the different places he could stick it if Stevie were to decline another offer from the NWA. Stevie spat in his face, and got cracked across the arm with the blackjack. He could never play the piano again. Not that he could before, of course.
Now in my line of work, we don’t take kindly to thugs smacking civilians, particularly our friends, around with blackjacks.
So I came up behind that son of a bitch, snapped the cuffs on him, and arrested his ass right there and then. Threw him in the back of my car, and dragged him off on assault charges. I interrogated him a bit, of course, asking what business the NWA has sending goons around to do their work.
He clammed up mighty quick, and police procedure means I couldn’t make use of the Big Bossman’s niftier tricks with a nightstick… it’s got to be all by the book. Everything has to be done a certain way – there’s no way a cop would break the rules. I was so naïve.
But I couldn’t crack him around the face like I wanted and ask him what business he had with Stevie, so I left him to stew for the night in a cell.
I checked up on Stevie in hospital – he had a bruised arm, but he was damned he was going to let that stop him. I went home and had a restful night’s sleep, then went back to have another friendly chat with my prisoner.
He was gone.
------------
Not busted out of jail, not bailed out by a concerned citizen – just gone, as if he’d never been there.
John Preston, the cop on jail duty that night, swore black and blue I never came in, and I certainly didn’t give him a prisoner. The guy was full of crap. He’d sell his own mother for a dollar and a cup of coffee. Naturally, I took it up with the captain. He politely told me he was very busy. I not-so-politely told him what he could do with his paperwork. I never had the right attitude to get through all the proper niceties – I just tended to curse at people till something happened. A few of the boys had told me I’d be more at home as a 50s style private eye than a cop. I took it as a compliment.
Still, sounding off like a drunken sailor at the captain got some attention – he said he'd certainly look into this serious matter. Next week, I was busted down to traffic duty. The system at it’s finest.
I suppose that was my queue to drop it, and forget I ever heard the name NWA. But no, I marched right back into the captain’s office and demanded an explanation. I told him Preston had been bribed, and asked what the hell he was going to do about it.
A day later, he showed me exactly what he was going to do about it, as a surprise internal inspection turned up a small baggie of cocaine in my locker. This seemed to surprise nobody but me, as I didn’t do nose candy, and that crap wasn’t mine. They could never PROVE the stuff belonged to me… but just the possibility is enough when you’re a cop. I turned in my gun, my badge, and that was me off the force, one more disgraced cop.
Like magic: A prisoner disappears, having never apparently existed, and then a bag of coke turns up in my locker room. David Copperfield, eat your heart out.
I had no money, and no possibilities. I had my savings, of course, but that wasn’t exactly a king’s ransom.
I went back to work for Stevie at Axe Handle Wrestling, and that’s where I really learned the business. I did a bit of everything – the booking, the finances, hiring up the talent… I owe a lot to my days in AHW. I was filling in the spare time with the odd job as a bouncer or bodyguard. I couldn’t stay in work for long – nobody wants a disgraced cop unless they’re desperate.
AHW just got worse and worse, too.
3 of their top stars were suddenly offered huge raises to join various branches in the NWA. Stealing talent’s a part of life in the indies, but all 3 in one week? A 4th guy was also approached, but refused to leave AHW, even for the money. A week later, he came to Stevie, a hint of panic in his eyes, and said he had to leave the company immediately. “Family issues”, he said. It got worse from there. Sponsors pulled out, wrestlers found other commitments. The NWA kept offering a buy-out. I went back to the cops, this time as a citizen requesting help. They told me I was imagining it, that it was all coincidence. I asked them if the money successfully made up for their lack of conscience. Hell, not all the cops were under the NWA influence, not by a long shot… but when you buy the top brass, you buy the whole station.
I give Stevie credit – he never gave up on AHW. While he made new stars, I researched. Using all my means, both legal and otherwise I tracked where the corruption was leaking into the NWA. I traced it all back to Caulder.
I didn’t have what you’d call legally binding proof, but I knew he was the mastermind behind it all.
AHW struggled, but it stayed afloat. Just. Mostly thanks to Stevie’s hard work and dedication, but I’d by lying if I said I wasn’t a part of it. By this stage, we were pretty dependent on each other, as work was getting harder and harder to find for me. Stevie and I were sharing a pretty mouldy apartment in a bad neighbourhood just to make ends meet. By now the offers for AHW had decreased, but they were still far more than the company was worth – and that stubborn bastard Stevie wouldn’t budge. He’d hold onto his company till hell froze over.
So Caulder escalated.
----------------
Threats hadn’t stopped Stevie. A beating hadn’t stopped Stevie, although they never got another shot at it – I made sure of that. Anybody who looked suspicious at an AHW event got an eyeballing from me, and they probably knew they’d lose a few teeth if they tried anything. But Caulder wasn’t dumb. He knew fire stopped everything.
One night, as we lay in that flea-hotel of an apartment, it caught fire. Another mysterious accident.
The police later called it suspicious circumstances, but nothing was ever proved. The bottom line is this – Caulder sent his message. I’m sure it was never meant to escalate to what it did.
It was probably nothing more than another threat, but it went wrong. I still remember that night, and believe me, I’ve tried everything I know to forget it.
I work up, middle of the night, coughing and spluttering. Smoking a pack a day, this wasn’t anything new, but this time it was coming from –outside- my lungs. The place was on fire, and burning up fast. The apartment was only three steps above cardboard, so the thing went up like it was doused in gasoline. Hell, it probably was.
I didn’t think about what I was doing – I just moved. I got the hell out of that flaming deathtrap as fast as my legs could carry me… and I was all the way onto the street before Stevie even entered my mind. He wasn’t as fast as me. The fire flared up – I couldn’t have gotten back in to save him. At least, that’s what I try to tell myself when I can’t sleep at night. The bottom line is this – I got out. Stevie didn’t.
Caulder backed off FAST after that. Threats and violence was one thing, but murder was another altogether. It was never meant to go this far. Stevie took his last resting place, and AHW was left to run peacefully. It fell to pieces, of course. Stevie wasn’t at the helm, and I was beside myself at this point – I could barely get up in the morning, let alone run a wrestling company. All I could seem to do was try to drown out Stevie’s last scream in the bottom of a bottle. I got help to keep me off the booze, and I’m clean now – but that came later.
AHW faded into the night, like every other company that took on the NWA.
After AHW fell through, I moved away. I probably didn’t need to.
Caulder likely has no idea who the hell I am – just some random security guy who hung around with Stevie. Nonetheless, I changed sides of the country, and I changed names to boot. There was no way I wanted him linking me back to Stevie. But I wanted to take Caulder down. I couldn’t do it legally – nothing linked him to anything illegal. I couldn’t do it illegally – the guy had an army of body guards, and I was just a cop – it’d be suicide. So I’m going to do it in the one place I can hurt Caulder the most – his wallet.
I was going to set up my own wrestling company, and run the NWA – every part of them – into the ground.
Stevie had left me a sum of money in his inheritance. Two Hundred G’s, to be exact. It was a good whack if I wanted to retire, but peanuts to run a wrestling company on. Still, better than nothing. The Last Alliance of Wrestling was underway…
I was figuring on having to run the whole thing by myself, but then life changed again – this broad knocked on my door.
She sure was something – fiery red hair, a curvaceous body, and something in her eyes that said she’d seen a lot more than she was telling. She said her name was Sophie, and I’ll buy that – for now. But if that was her real name, then I’m Humphrey Bogart. She offered to work for free, and that sealed the deal – I hired her on the spot.
I checked her out, of course – what sort of fool do you take me for? Her records were clean, and I called in a few favours with a few old buddies on the force to confirm – she wasn’t working with Caulder.
I mentioned his name once in her presence, and she tried to hide it, but I saw something move in those pretty blue eyes of hers. It looked awful close to hate. She knew him, alright. I don’t know how, but I’ve learned to read people pretty well – whatever she had to do with Caulder, she sure wasn’t his buddy. I could almost sense what her secret was… it was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t quite get it.
This chick was switched on to the wrestling business, though. Between her contacts and mine, we scrounged up a decent roster. I’m sure you may not have heard of some of them, but they’ve made themselves small names in the business. We certainly had a few choices. There were lots of workers who couldn’t get in with the NWA, and if you couldn’t get in with them, you didn’t get in anywhere. But our size, not to mention our finances, kept us out of the running for the really big stars... for now.
Sophie did a lot of the hard work – she found us a few sponsors, checked our image, and wrote it all up, nice and proper. She even surveyed the fans to find out how well-known our guys were. She was good like that, not to mention easy on the eyes walking round the office. The sponsors were the hard part – we were an unknown fed, and pretty risky to boot. Hey, this ain’t a kid’s show, this is wrestling. Still, she got them, some way or another.
I admit, I was excited about running LAW. It wasn’t all about taking down the NWA – I legitimately enjoyed running a fed.
I didn’t expect my business with Caulder to affect the public product – everyone was just playing a character, after all. Just another indy fed. For a while, at least.