EPISODE 7 THE CONTRACT SIGNING

It was four weeks after the tryout when, en route to the gym, I got a call from an American number. “Hi, Rebecca, it’s Canyon.”

I pulled over to the side of the road, prepared to hear either the best news of my life or the worst.

“I’m glad I get to be the one to call you, because I know how much this will mean to you. We would like to offer you a developmental deal at NXT with a tentative date of beginning sometime in July 2013.”

Floods of tears fell down my face. Butterflies did a complicated, synchronized dance number in my belly. My voice reached octaves it had never reached before as I squeaked out, “Thank you, thank you so much! I won’t let you down!” I was filled with gratitude and wanted more than anything to make them proud that they trusted me.

By the time I reached the gym, I was too hyper to focus.

“Gah ma god!! You can’t tell anyone, but I just got signed!” I beamed to one of my friends who happened to be there. “I wanna make women’s wrestling the coolest thing on TV! I’m telling you now, man. I’m gonna main event WrestleMania!” I rejoiced as I jumped up and down and spun in circles.

“Ha-ha-ha. That’s great! And it’s nice and all to have dreams, Becky, but be realistic,” he retorted in the most unoffensive way possible.

It might sound jarring to have a friend shit all over your dreams so flippantly, but it really wasn’t. At that time, it did seem like a damn near impossibility to have women be the main event of WrestleMania. But the fact that he said I couldn’t meant I absolutely had to.

Wanting to share my good news further, I made my way to Rachel’s. But before I could fill her in, she let me in on her devastating news: she had retorn her ACL the night before.

It was a huge blowback and could possibly ruin her chances of ever actually getting to NXT. Certainly it meant all three of us weren’t starting together after all.

Of course she was still happy for me when I told her. She’s the best. But tearing your ACL twice within a year while on the verge of being in WWE is close to tragic.

For me, it was a warning sign that there was still plenty that could go wrong between now and the summer. I had to pass a medical exam, and though, as far as I knew, I was perfectly healthy, what if they found something? What if they changed their minds and they did only want models? Or what if I suffered the same fate as Rachel and got injured months before I was set to leave? These thoughts ravaged my brain daily; it was so close and yet I was scared it would somehow slip through my fingers again.

I was even petrified to go to wrestling training before I got there.

“What if I get hurt too?” I asked Fergal.

“They’re going to have their own way of doing things, so there’s no point in getting into bad habits. They’ll want to train you up from scratch anyway,” he counselled me from afar.

All I needed to do was cocoon myself in Bubble Wrap until July and I would get to start at a brand-new state-of-the-art training facility in Orlando that WWE was calling the Performance Center.

Joe had already left for Florida to begin training but was off to a rough start. A few days in and he had already suffered a concussion and was having a hard time adjusting to the new lifestyle.

There was a laundry list of etiquette and codes in the day-to-day life of a trainee. Joe made sure to give me the rundown lest I get off to a bad start.

“Shake everyone’s hand. You have to ride with the girls. It looks bad if you ride with the guys. And do not get involved with any of the lads. They frown upon that sort of thing.

“They don’t like people who’ve had experience. They think they’re uncoachable. Be coachable.

“You have to always put your hands up when you’re in the ring to protect yourself.

“Never talk back, even if they’re wrong—just say, ‘Yes, sir, won’t happen again,’ and move on.”

The list went on and on and I clung to every word, wanting to make the best first impression I could and not offend anyone. I had also taken years away from wrestling and wanted to be seen as a blank canvas, but to have spent years and years perfecting your craft, to come in and be told you know nothing sounded like such a mind fuck. However, I had already decided, no matter how many tests they threw my way, I wouldn’t let it break me.

I packed my bags and boarded my flight to Florida. This time was a lot different from the last ill-planned-out Orlando trip. This time, I knew what I was doing. I was going to change wrestling forever.