Oct 9-10th

It’s been weeks, or more like months, since I last posted here.

Life has had its ups and downs since then. I’ll leave out the downs and focus on the ups, because I’ve spent more time thinking about the bad than I’d like to admit.

In my last blog post, I wrote:

“I’ve spent most of my life in professional wrestling, learning it, performing it, questioning it, and eventually trying to understand what I can contribute to it beyond my own matches.”

— Me

I’m actually quite proud of that quote. I think it explains how I feel about this craft and what it means to me. But that last part, “what I can contribute beyond my own matches,” has been on my mind since winning the ROH World Championship.

That night, I accomplished something I had spent 22 years working toward. After Final Battle, I remember sitting alone in my room and asking myself one question.

“What’s next?”

Funny how you can spend most of your life chasing something, finally achieve it, and immediately wonder what you’re supposed to do afterward. Haha.

That question eventually became less about what I wanted from wrestling and more about what I could give back to it.

And along the way, I started noticing something.

Homogenization.

Basically, everything is starting to look and feel the same.

Not just wrestling, but entertainment, art, and possibly much more.

In wrestling, I feel like we’re slowly losing the different styles, philosophies, and ways of presenting our craft. What makes a good match? What makes a good show? It sometimes feels like there’s only one acceptable answer now.

And I find that concerning.

One of the things I’ve always loved about wrestling is that there were so many different ways to do it. Different styles for different audiences. Different ideas of what wrestling could be.

I don’t believe my way is the right way, or that anyone else’s is wrong. Quite the opposite.

I just believe there should be room for all of it.

Now, I understand wrestling isn’t solving the world’s problems. There are much bigger things to worry about than two people in their underwear arguing over a wristlock. Haha.

But this craft means something to me, as I know it does to many others.

Sometimes my passion can come across as bitterness or arrogance, and that’s never my intention. I’ve learned that wanting people to understand you and actually knowing how to explain yourself are two different things.

I’m still working on that one.

ANYWAY!

October 9–10, Atlanta, Georgia.

These past two days were special.

I organized a seminar that brought together representatives from wrestling promotions around the world to speak with wrestlers about something I’m asked almost everywhere I go.

“How do I get noticed? How do I contact bigger companies? How do I get an opportunity?”

I’ve never felt like I had a complete answer to those questions. So I figured, why not bring the people who actually make those decisions into one room and let them answer?

And that’s what we did!

Listening to the promotion representatives explain what they look for, how to approach them, and the dos and don’ts of being professional was incredibly valuable.

Even for me!

There were things mentioned that I hadn’t considered in all my years in wrestling. I loved that. I don’t ever want to reach a point where I believe there’s nothing left for me to learn.

But something else happened over those two days that meant even more to me.

People I’ve known and respected for years came together and started having conversations about wrestling, where it’s going, and what we can do to help its future.

And I realized something.

I wasn’t alone in what I’d been seeing or feeling.

Others had noticed the same things. Others had similar concerns. And others believed, like I do, that there should still be room for different ideas in professional wrestling.

I can’t explain how much that meant to me.

Sometimes when you care deeply about something, and it feels like nobody sees what you see, you begin questioning yourself. Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe you’re just getting older. Maybe the world has moved on without you.

But these two days reminded me that sometimes you just haven’t found the right people, the right time, or the right words.

Not everyone agreed on everything, and that’s perfectly fine. That’s actually the point!

We listened. We learned. We shared ideas.

And for the first time in a while, I felt understood.

I didn’t realize how much I needed that. These past two days were honestly therapeutic for me.

Which brings me to one last thing.

Community.

We use that word quite a bit in professional wrestling.

But what does it really mean?

To me, community means sharing knowledge, helping others find their way, and understanding that someone else’s success doesn’t take away from your own.

It means accepting that we can love the same thing for completely different reasons.

And that’s okay!

I don’t believe two days in Atlanta changed professional wrestling. That would be a pretty silly thing to claim.

But I do believe something meaningful happened there.

People came together, shared what they knew, and hopefully left with something they didn’t have before.

I know I did.

When I won the ROH World Championship, I asked myself what I could contribute to wrestling beyond my own matches.

I still don’t have the complete answer.

But I think I’m beginning to figure it out.

Maybe it’s bringing people together. Maybe it’s helping others find opportunities. Maybe it’s doing my small part to make sure different styles and ideas continue to have a place in this business.

Maybe it’s all of those things.

Whatever the answer is, I’m enjoying trying to figure it out.

If we’re going to continue calling ourselves a community, I think we should make more of an effort to act like one.

Because maybe the best thing we can give professional wrestling isn’t another match, another championship, or another moment for ourselves.

Maybe it’s helping create an opportunity for someone else.

Thank you to everyone who made October 9–10 possible. To the promotions who gave their time, the wrestlers who came to learn, and everyone who shared their thoughts and experiences.

You reminded me why I fell in love with this strange little world in the first place.

I needed these two days more than I knew.

Thank you. Truly.