Boys just discovered professional wrestling. I’ll hear them up in their room, rasslin, playing the characters. The oldest does the announcer voice and commentary. The one rule of play wrestling is no one get hurts!
Today as I had one of them wrapped up in a bear hug I thought of a new character. Johnny Real. He would come out, no music, just like the light the janitor uses to sweep the place out on. Probably just wearing jeans, non branded grey t-shirt. He would enter the ring carefully and then stand in one corner. Every once in a while a flash of disgust would cross his face, but generally he would just look bored.
Bell rings, he would engage and then do the most basic, and yet adaqaute self defense to disable his opponent. Arm bars, rear chokes, joint work, Krav Maga. Just competent collegiate style wrestling, pin, submission, break stuff, then just out he goes. No lights. No music. Just back up the ramp and out to his publicly parked Honda Civic.
And his opponents would do all the usual stuff, but he just wouldn’t react. Guy off the ropes he’s just move out of the way. That stomp punching, he’d laugh at. “That doesn’t hurt,” he’d taunt the crowd. “He’s not even hitting me!”