My Shoot Interview

Ever since I was a young kid I've been a fan of Professional Wrestling, a.k.a. Sport's Entertainment. There was something about it that grabbed my attention, my interest. I still keep up with the events that are going on even though it currently sucks, but I'm still drawn to it as I was when I was such a young child. The thing that's funny is that it's not the fireworks, the drama or even the wrestling that I enjoy. I enjoy the fact that there are “Heels” (bad guys) and “Faces” (good guys). I like the idea that a “Face” can turn “Heel” overnight and the crowd will hate it. They hate it because the night before he was a “Face”; They cheered for him, they wanted him to win and all of the sudden he's turned his back on them and they can't do anything except feel used.

I sometimes wonder if I enjoy it because all of my life I seem to do the right thing, or try to. Be good, don't do that, help this person. As satisfying as it may be, there is always something deep down in my gut that wishes I had the ability to pick up a chair and slam someone over the head with it. No trouble with the law, just a "I'll see you next week at the Pay-Per-View." I don't think that it's an urge to hurt, I think it's an urge to be hated for a night. To say, "Fuck you. Like it or leave it." As strange as it may sound, I sometimes want to be hated so things I say, views I have will be more accepted because that's who I am. I'm the guy who called out your girlfriend and body slammed her through a table because she made a joke about me. I'm the guy who comes in and screws you out of your only chance to have a match against the champ because I want that opportunity.

I just want to hear the boos. Take them in like fresh air after a Spring Shower. I want to have the freedom to go where I want, to not hold back anything I have to say because it's the right thing to do. I want the mental freedom, to not have to lie in bed at night, not being able to sleep because I'm trying to figure out what's the right choices I have to make in life. I'm so sick of doing what's right that sometimes I wonder if it's literally eating me up inside. It starts with my Stomach, goes to my Lungs and saves the Heart for last because that's the thing that defines the man. It's the only thing that keeps him going. I want to fail, I want to lose because that's what “Heels” do. “Heels” run and hide and complain when things aren't given to them, especially when they don't deserve it.

There are so many things wrong with a “Heel” that it's the reason why I can't be that. That even when I'm being eaten alive inside, I keep going because that's what I do. As much as I want to be hated, to ruin any friendships I've formed in the past, I can't do that because I strongly believe in the path that I've walked. It's not the fact that I believe in God, Buddha or even George Clooney...it's the fact that I believe. Belief is what keeps the “Face” going each night. Belief that tomorrow is a new day, things will get better. It's a warm blanket on a cold night, it's a dry shirt after a storm. “Heels” can blame others for their problems but “Faces” accept their destiny and go with the cards they've been dealt. I must continue walking down that dark road, waiting to be attacked when I'm not looking because I know that people are waiting to take me down because of who I am and that's fine with me because I know I'll get back up and start walking again. Even though I say I want to be a “Heel” for a day, I know I never will be one. I'll always be “Dan” for life and in my eyes, in the eyes of the millions and millions of fans out there, that's not such a bad thing.