EPISODE 12 WOMEN’S WRESTLING

“You see those three over there. Those three are the future! They’re going to change things here. But three come in, three go out.” HHH was introducing us to his latest recruits after a series of TV tapings and also warning that if you didn’t step up, you’d step out. These three lads were going to take your spot.

As someone who had spent time on the chopping block, I’d hate these guys. Well, I would if two out of the three weren’t my good friends.

He was talking about Fergal, Kevin Owens, and a Japanese phenomenon named Kenta.

With the popularity of NXT growing at an exponential rate, it had turned into its own brand under the WWE umbrella. No longer was it looked at as “developmental.” Now it had its own following and was akin to Raw and SmackDown.

Now HHH was going to great lengths to bring in wrestlers from the independent circuit or Japanese promotions that could bring more eyes to the brand and increase the work rate.

The whole auditorium turned to look at the three infiltrators, a wave of telepathic disdain flooding the room.

I sent them an ardent smile and a thumbs-up. Content that I had finally secured my spot in NXT and happy my friends had joined me, Kevin and I picked right back up where we left off almost a decade ago, bantering and joking and catching up on life. He was now a husband and a father, but nothing else had changed; he was my friend for life. As was Ferg. No matter what had happened in the past or how complicated our relationship with each other had been, we had a deep-set bond that would never break.

Turns out HHH was lying, though. The next day, they didn’t fire three people. They fired five!

Thankfully, I was safe now. I was becoming an integral part of the show as Sasha’s sidekick, but I was also improving in the ring, building steam and getting the rub from the great work she was doing.

By the end of 2014, the world was catching on. Women in NXT were being booked better than the main roster and for the first time seen as equal. They had character development, significant story lines, and matches that were given time and consideration.

Emma and Paige lit the torch in NXT—competing for the first women’s title. Then, once Paige was called up to the main roster, Natalya came down and fought Charlotte Flair for the championship in a barn burner, with Charlotte ultimately coming out as champion. The match reminded the world how talented Nattie is and when given more than two minutes of match time on TV she could put on a classic.

Then it was Sasha and Charlotte who upped the ante again. Each big match was like adding another brick to what would one day turn into a palace.

And at last, it was time for me to put my own brick on the foundation as I prepared for the biggest test of my life. We were going to a fatal four-way for the title between what had become the pillars of the NXT women’s division: Bayley, Sasha, Charlotte, and miraculously me.

Despite my awful start at NXT, I was turning this car around and making something of myself, mixing it up with the three best opponents I could ask for.

We were the four women who were telling interesting stories, putting on good matches, and getting the audience invested.

But more than anyone else, this was my opportunity. The other girls had had their moments in the spotlight and proved themselves. This was my time to be able to show the world, the company, and myself that I could step up and contend with the best of them.

I stood backstage in the brightly lit, confined grey hallway, pacing and going over the match, the most nervous I had ever been.

I’ve never had a prematch ritual, so to speak. I just pace like a motherfucker, nudge myself to take deep breaths, and if I’m feeling spry I’ll count to ten to chill my ass out.

Come on, Becky. Get it together. If you can’t do this in front of four hundred people, how do you think you’ll ever be able to wrestle at WrestleMania? I told myself.

This was big. But it wasn’t Mania big. All I had to do was not stink up the joint and I could move forward and find out what real nerves were all about.

You belong here. Everything in your life has led you to this moment, I reassured myself, or tried to convince myself; I’m not entirely sure which.

My music hit. I strutted out. I had gone from generic babyface to generic heel. Snarky, cocky, mouthy. I stood in the ring barely knowing what do with myself. Do I move? Do I stand still? What’s natural? Maybe I’ll touch these ropes? No, you look awkward! Stop looking awkward, idiot! I thought as I tried to figure out how to exist in that moment as millions watched at home.

Once the bell rang, I settled in. I felt proud of myself as I didn’t botch anything or ruin the match.

I had finally entered the conversation as one of the women who would change the game.

The wrestling community was abuzz about the Four Horsewomen, as we became known, who would change the landscape of women’s wrestling forever. It felt like wrestling’s version of the Spice Girls, each different, but that was what was great. We could each appeal to a particular demographic.

All of us brought something different to the table.

Charlotte, her legacy, her athleticism.

Bayley, her passion, her technicality.

Sasha, her star presence, her finesse.

Becky, that Rocky Balboa–like heart.