Redd Reddick returns with a road report from Europe.

“Redd” Reddick — The Other Side of the Ropes

Don’t Call It a Comeback…

After roughly 3 and a half months of procrastination, hesitation, disgust and right frustration, I’ve finally decided to get my head out my tuchus and write. I sat here night after night pondering on what I should right about after coming from work and deliberately allowed myself to be bogged by other distractions just to keep from writing, even going as far as to worry about if I’d wind up rambling.  You know what? I forgot one small thing - it’s my column.  If I ramble and lose someone midway, fine. I’m not hard to find, so they can muster up the courage to email me and ask me to clarify my statements.  If people can be stupid enough to hide behind their keyboards and push someone to the brink of suicide, prey on unsuspecting minors or some other morbid nonsense on the Internet, then someone can be just as sensible and email me and ask what f’ing point I was trying to make in one of my columns.  Simple as that.  In fact, I actually had a few people call me on the Benoit situation last year, and to be honest, I highly appreciated the feedback.  Why?  Because it told me that someone was actually paying attention out there, and that’s why I’m back.  Now, to some other pressing things…

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During my self-imposed exile, I was far from idle.  In fact, I was still traveling.  Not even a few weeks after I came back from Germany with two tag titles (which was my last write-up.  See TSOTR’s ‘The Unrestrained Use of Excessive Force’ on ProWrestlingDigest or the Blog section of my MySpace page), I went on a tour in Ireland which lasted 6 days, but I did 5 since I had to come back to ‘real’ world a day early.  During my time on the Emerald Isle, I not only bonded with some of my frat brothers and sisters from the Indie circuit but I gleaned wisdom from 4 of the 6 men with us on that tour who I’m honored to call my wrestling forefathers.  In no particular order, I referring to Gangrel, Joe E Legend, Jon Heidenreich and the man I dubbed the William S Burroughs of wrestling, none other than Sandman.

On those five days, we hit a town apiece via tour bus, which I’m sure we all slept on more than we did our hotel rooms.  If that’s any indicator of how it was in the days of the Territories, I can tell you that no matter how romanticized you make it sound, it puts a toll on you if you’re a typical person. That means about 75% of the guys on the circuits now would probably get weeded out really fast. Working 2 days is one thing, even with an occasional double-shot, but try doing five days in a row without blinking. You will be a changed person. You know who I really respect? The one guy who had to referee all the matches by himself throughout the tour. People take refs for granted, but this guy had to go out at least 6 times each night and officiate all the matches for 6 nights in a row. Screw an iron man match, try wearing the striped shirt that many times and see how it feels, and we’re the ones that got banged up…

For us fortunate ones on the tour who weren’t names, we learned tons from the ones that were, and rightfully so. It was an awesome intensive course of sorts to able to listen to and work with men who have been in the ring and worked in front of television camera in many countries and pass their wisdom down to us in some form or another. By the way, the two I didn’t mention (not out of disrespect, mind you, but because I mentioned who I interacted with the most) were Chris Masters and Test, who both managed to incite riots in their own fashions in every town we hit.

If I didn’t say it already, and I’m sure I did before I left for Dublin Wednesday morning, thanks everybody, including Joey Cabray for making that tour what it was. Flo, I still remember that book for your birthday later. (SCHULLLLLLZ!!!)

Next column, what did I do after Easter? Let’s just say it involved a long train ride, and Japanese legends in Germany…

– “Redd” Reddick