At the peak of my wrestling fandom, I watched Triple H win the World Heavyweight Championship. Live. Two consecutive years in a row.
I actually recall losing my voice at both events. The thrill of the moment, as always, can do that. But when you are watching someone you genuinely have respect for display their greatness in person, it’s perfectly acceptable to “mark out” as they say.
Times have changed, and I’ve been spending my money on more concerts than wrestling events. It’s probably John Cena’s fault somehow. Yet I think back on those days with such fondness. At a concert, you know the band is going to win. At a wrestling event, you aren’t quite sure if your favorite guy is going to leave a winner. And it makes it all the more breathtaking when he actually does.
Triple H – Blade: Trinity and all – was my favorite wrestler at a time when wrestling was my very favorite thing. He embodies the industry to me. He embodies industries in general, and how to get ahead in them. And in these hard financial times, he is a role model.
I’m going to make motivational posters with huge pictures of Triple H spitting water on people. I’m going to hang them around my office. They will constantly remind me of The Game, but more importantly, of how to play it. Things such as:
Don’t play nice. Your coworkers are not your friends. But if you happen to become friends with your coworkers, make sure you give them a push.
Fear nobody. Not even your boss. In fact, have sex with his daughter. Every single night for the rest of your life.
It’s okay to have a big nose. Shove it in your enemies’ faces when you confront them. That’ll show them.
Tell everyone to suck it. They’ll cheer. Reverse psychology, bitch.
When I watched Triple H win the title, he received mostly jeers. A general reaction of, “Shit, not more of this guy.”
But as soon as the bell rang and his hand was raised, Motorhead blasted on the loudspeakers. “IT’S ALL ABOUT THE GAME! AND HOW YOU PLAY IT!!” And love him or hate him, he’s been pretty blunt about it the whole time.
It’s all about the game, and how you play it. In life. In professional wrestling. In grocery shopping, even. And I’m not sure I would know the game as well as I do today without Triple H pounding it into my head like a sledgehammer.
If the great booker in the sky ever lined up a meeting between me and Triple H, I would buy that man a drink. And I would ask him to spit it in my face. And he would. And I’d love it.