Then he pays for his coffee (black, no sugar) and walks out into the rain, limping slightly, the last honest man in a business of illusions.
His promos are not written. They are confessions. mike columbo wrestling
If you look up "journeyman" in a wrestling dictionary, you might see a picture of a chiseled Adonis in neon tights. You would be wrong. You would actually see a grainy photo of a man with knuckles like busted bricks, a chest covered in a thick mat of dark hair, and the thousand-yard stare of a guy who just worked a 10-hour shift at the loading dock before driving 200 miles to wrestle in a VFW hall. Then he pays for his coffee (black, no