My personal wrestling peak has to be August, 1996. It was my second year in (community) college (I made community college so cool that Joel McHale was trolling A1- one day, saw me talking it up, made a show about it, true story), and we were all watching Nitro.
Things got heated. We argued over the best finisher. I held fast to saying that The Human Torture Rack was both the most well named and the most badass finisher around. There were various arguments.
So then, shit got real. Everyone jumped up. It was on. I got paired up with The Other Big Guy (he wasn't fat like me, he was just big framed, a country boy) and within seconds, I was slapping his 255 pound ass up in the Rack so fast that the other two stopped trying to Sharpshooter each other and started cheering me on.
And then my brother showed up. My brother is kind of short (not really, 5'10", but I'm 6'2") and weighed like 235 at the time to my 275 (those were the days!). I told him to let me try to put him in the Razor's Edge, but somewhere between me saying "Help me on it, I don't want to wrestle" and the words reaching his ears, he pounced and fuckin' ragdolled me all over the place. That shit sucked. He was (and is) one of those 500 pound benchin', 600 pound squattin' motherfuckers. And I just had fatness and redneck strength going for me.
So that night started well, but I had to be on the wrong end of a squash at the end of it. So I ended up... ehhhhhoooooooold the phone!!!
We all went outside after rassle ended. That was our tradition. I was dipping at the time. I wouldn't dip indoors, so we'd go outside, dip, spit off the second floor. You can't hide class. We were outside, and The Other Big Guy insulted the Ric Flair chop by saying that it looked good and sounded good, but it didn't hurt. I told him "HOLD UP!!!" and said if I chopped him, it would light his ass up. He told me to go ahead, it wouldn't hurt, but do it on his back because that would hurt less. So that motherfucker stood facing away from me, and I unleashed the fooking fury on his back, Yngwie style. *chop* Woooo!! and he was running in place like he had the shits and was locked out of his house.
I told him he could do one back to me since I felt bad for hurting him. He chopped me, and instantly fell to his knees shaking his hand. "Oow ow motherfucker I just broke my hand!" He didn't break it, but it was great that it hurt him doing the chop. I told him only trained professionals are allowed to unleash the Nature Boy Chop from henceforth. So I did get my shine back at the end of the night.
The Other Big Guy sneak attack headlocked me going into the cafeteria a few weeks later, and I couldn't escape it.
Then we rassled in a gym locker room while we were lifting weights, but that's a kind of boring story that ends with the basketball team catching me making a racist joke.
