Just Like On TV 
by 'Any Given Sunday'



I drained my glass of whisky, set it back onto the bar, and moodily watched
the laughing couples disappear into the night. Karen's Christmas Eve shindigs
at the Sports Centre were a local institution, and I'd agreed to attend with
my classmates, despite being a loner and somewhat shy. However the others had
long found female companionship and headed elsewhere, leaving me to pass the
time with my old friend JD. At least I had avoided Karen's clumsy attempts at
match-making. I paid the barkeep and turned to go, and then became aware of a
young West Indian girl in a party dress standing beside me. She smiled
brightly and said, 'Hi, you must be Chris. I've been looking everywhere for
you. I'm Tracie. Buy a girl dinner?'. Now my parents had always counselled
against mixed relationships and she didn't look my type anyway. I searched for
a tactful reply but all that came out was a terse 'No'. Her face dropped into
a mask of humiliation and disappointment, and I turned hurriedly to leave this
embarrassing scene.

I left the bar and trudged moodily through the deserted main section of the
Sports Centre, wondering what Karen could possibly think that this girl and I
had in common. I heard the clip of heels moving fast behind me and then I was
spun round to face Tracie again, her features now contorted with rage. 'So
you'd leave me there alone on Christmas Eve, would you?', she said. 'What's
the matter, not good enough for you?'. I tried to formulate some excuse, but
she continued 'It's because I'm black, isn't it, don't lie 'cause I can see it
in your eyes. Well get your white ass in that ring and we'll see who's good
enough'. She stalked across to the training ring, kicked off her heels, and
sat between the bottom and middle ropes holding them apart and beckoning me to
enter between them. I wasn't prepared for this but I knew that I would never
be able to look at myself in a mirror if I turned down her challenge. Then
good ol' JD piped up and reminded me that we'd watched 'Wrestling Superstars'
on TV together only the previous day and it would be fun to try some moves.

When I was in the ring, Tracie stalked over to one corner and pulled her dress
over her head, revealing a well-populated white sports bra, matching knickers,
and an otherwise trim body. In contrast my scrawny chest had made me the butt
of locker room jokes, but fueled by alcohol I confidently threw my T-shirt
through the ropes, removed my shoes, and took the belt out of my Levis. I
pondered how we should start this contest and whether to discuss rules, but as
I turned to face Tracie she was immediately upon me, anxious to make her point
woman-to-man, and my teeth were rattled by her forearm uppercut. A wave of
anger shot through me and I jolted her head back in turn. We traded blows
toe-to-toe for a minute, oblivious to any idea of defence, but Tracie was
bound to come off worse from such a brutal exchange against a heavier opponent
and she stepped backwards, momentarily dazed. I lifted her left arm over my
shoulder as I had seen on TV, slid my right hand between her thighs to take an
oh-so-careful grip of the seat of her knickers, lifted and inverted her. I
allowed a few seconds for the blood to drain to her head before body-slammimg
her. Her breasts wobbled gratifyingly within their containment as she landed
and she gasped with pain.

I figured that one more of those should finish this obvious mismatch, and
hauled her roughly to her feet by her elbow. I positioned her left arm and my
right hand as before and bent over to lift, but found that she had blocked the
move by grapevining my leg. Too late I felt her hand pass my crutch and her
fingernails sink into my butt, and grunting with the effort she took advantage
of my crouched position to lift me off my feet, turn and drop me. Amazed that
she could lift me at all, I forgot to force my feet downwards and I landed on
my back like a sack of potatoes. Tracie's follow-up leg drop to the face
flattened my nose and drove my lips into my teeth, and almost immediately her
hot lithe body was on top of me and going for a cover as she went for her own
early victory. We grappled desperately as she sought a position of advantage
to keep my shoulders pinned, using her ample chest as an extra means of
applying downward pressure. I escaped a couple of 'two' counts before freeing
an arm and throwing her off.

Tracie now faced me in a crouch, arms outstretched and eyes staring straight
into mine. Licking the blood from my bruised lips, I matched her pose. She
charged, but I saw it coming and helped her past me and into the ropes with a
firm push in the back. She rebounded backwards and I linked my arms around her
waist and used her momentum to lift her over in a form of German suplex. She
struck the mat with her shoulders and the back of her head, but I was unable
to control our rolling bodies to produce a pinning combination and she escaped
to the side.

This time I offered Tracie a double hand interlock and she accepted the trial
of strength. Our heads clashed and our bodies pressed together as we fought
for advantage, and I noticed in dismay that she didn't seem to be weakening. I
got out of the confrontation by lifting my knee into her mid-section and
trapping her head between my thighs as she doubled forwards. JD suggested a
pile-driver, but I reminded him that this is a dangerous move that has ended
many pro wrestling careers ('DON'T try this at home, kids') and settled for
punishing Tracie's neck by jumping and landing as close to a squat as I could
get. I released her head and then spun round onto one knee and pulled her neck
forwards and downwards with my right hand, forcing her to follow the
three-quarter somersault trajectory of a head mare. I sat her upright, applied
the head lock from behind, and told her to submit. By way of reply her left
elbow rammed painfully into my rib cage. She pulled her head out of the
loosened hold and grabbed my left wrist.

She stood and started to extend and turn my left arm, and I followed her up
and began to bend into the anticipated arm lock, but she abruptly reversed to
twist my arm in the other direction instead and I was forced back to the
canvas in a double arm wrist lever. She drove her knee into my face, leaned
back to increase leverage on the submission hold, and called on me to quit. I
started to bridge to reduce the pressure, but Tracie quickly extended my arm
on the mat, hopped into the air, and slammed her knees into my shoulder.

Now she hauled me to my feet by my injured arm and I was compelled to follow
her. She directed me into the ropes and I turned to face her, but I had barely
rebounded before I was driven backwards by a double-foot drop kick to my chest
and throat. I laid momentarily sprawled over the middle rope and JD observed
that it was a good thing she wasn't wearing boots, but the red-hot needles of
pain from my arm interrupted our conversation with the news that Tracie was
back upon me and looking to finish the fight. Once again she threw me into the
ropes and I saw her set herself to jump. I grabbed for the top rope with my
good right arm, hauled sideways with my remaining strength, and Tracie's feet
shaved the left side of my jaw with a force that would have produced a
knockout if she'd connected squarely, boots or not.

Tracie had bet the farm on this high-risk manoeuvre and now her foot caught on
the top rope and she landed awkwardly on her back. She lay there dazed and I
furthered the process with a knee-drop to the top of her head. I momentarily
contemplated lifting her upright by her thick braided hair but remembered that
it had been a clean fight with neither of us wanting the other to have any
excuse in defeat, and this is the way I would end it. I dragged her into a
corner, propped her upright, held her head back with my left arm, and
deliberately delivered ten slapping chops to her sternum above her bra,
counting each one aloud.

The adrenaline was wearing off now and I started to feel the bruises and rope
burns on my body. Tracie sagged before me, her eyes half-closed and glazed,
and I felt respect for this plucky female competitor and regret that I had not
taken the opportunity to get to know her. JD quickly reminded me that she had
stepped into my backyard and it was now time for her to pay the price. I
mentally reprised the finishing sequence I had seen the previous day, kick to
the stomach, bulldog her head into the floor and cover her with an easy
one-finger pin. I turned to the empty gymnasium, drew my hand across my
throat, and yelled in my gruffest wrestling voice 'IT'S TIME TO PUT THE CAT
OUT'. Tracie's eyebrow seemed to flicker in recognition, but I knew she was
helpless and I moved to set her up.

Just like on TV I grabbed her behind the elbow and shoulder and propelled her
towards the ropes. Just like on TV I raised my leg to draw a bead on the brown
band of her midsection as she staggered back towards me. Unlike TV she did a
360 degree spin around my outstretched foot, launched herself towards me, and
then the taut bicep of her extended arm crashed into my Adam's Apple, driving
me upwards, backwards, and finally downwards onto the mat.

The canvas felt cool and wonderful beneath my back. I lay there trying to suck
air in through my swollen throat whilst contemplating the single lamp that
hung above the ring like a full moon. And then the moon was eclipsed by
Tracie's inverted form descending towards me from a height of at least six
feet, her arms and legs spread-eagled behind her like a free-fall parachutist
and her now-open eyes firmly fixed on my navel. The thump of the reverse body
splash merged with the 'Oooooh' of my hard-won air being expelled, and our
locked torsos seemed to momentarily become airborne as the ring boards
recoiled. My legs jerked reflexively upwards and Tracie seized the left one.
She wriggled over me to place her knees over my shoulders, positioned my
trapped leg under her armpit, and leaned backwards into a sitting position
that rolled up my body and ground my head into the floor beneath her firm
buttocks. I heard her excitedly shouting 'Two-ah, Three' as if from a long way
off. After a few more seconds that seemed an eternity my leg was released, the
weight was lifted, and I was able to return to my main priority of trying to
fill my tortured lungs.

When I regained interest in my surroundings I discovered that Tracie had
redonned her dress and was adjusting her hair and makeup with her back to me.
She must have seen me move in the mirror of her compact because she said
'Don't lie there all night, I'm hungry and dinner is on you'. She started to
step out through the ropes and then stopped momentarily, looked back at me,
and said 'By the way, I saw 'Superstars' last night too. We do have TV these
days, you know'.