Magazine Archive: Walk And Talk: My Match with Brian Lee (Patreon)

As first seen in FightfulMag.com issue 4

By Germain Wilson

I’m standing behind the black curtain, knowing full well that this is one of those moments where I’m either going to step up or fall flat on my face. Whatever is going to happen, it’s going to happen right now. But, before I get to that, I should tell you a bit more about the lead-up to this moment.

Standing outside his locker room door, I took a deep breath. I was a touch nervous, but not so much that I was losing my head, even with some of the boys trying to rattle me.

“Big match,” one of them said, “Don’t screw it up.” It was lighthearted ribbing, said with a smile. I took on the energy of it, and I focused it on the task at hand. This was my first ever ‘name’ match; I was facing a well-known wrestling superstar for the very first time. That day, we were recording our local independent show for broadcast on cable! The energy was already higher than usual. Add in the fact that I was about to knock on this locker room door and run through my match against former WWE Superstar Brian Lee. After a moment of self-preparation, I gave a firm knock.

“Come in,” he replied. I stepped inside to see him dressed to compete in biker-themed attire. He was sitting on the bench chewing a large wad of tobacco, occasionally spitting into a tin can that was next to him. He reached out, and we shook hands before I pulled up a steel folding chair and sat across from him.

“Don’t be nervous.” How did he know? Was I that obvious? “It’ll be a breeze out there. Just walk and talk. This is what we’re gonna do.” Then, he began to rattle off exactly what was going to happen out there. My eyes were wide as I tried to take in and retain every single detail of his plan. “Now, say it back to me.”

“Okay,” I replied, not certain that I had it all straight. Whatever fell out of my mouth seemed satisfactory to him.

“Good. Walk and talk. That’s all we’re gonna do.”

“Walk and talk,” I echoed.

“See you out there, kid.”

With that, I got up and walked out of the room. I was still as nervous as can be, but I was also still in control of my reaction to the feeling.

My mind was going a mile a minute. I was going to be wrestling Brian Lee under my secondary gimmick,Prizon Rulz. Rulz was a furloughed inmate from a local penitentiary who carried around a stuffed animal called No. The idea was Prizon Rulz; No rules. Prizon was also mute, but somehow he and the stuffed dog could talk to one another silently. It seemed like the puppy was in charge. It was a silly gimmick, but the fans in Simcoe, Ontario, ate it up!

I created the character in an attempt to get a higher payout by working two matches on every show I could. It required me to wear a mask with no eye holes and gloves that went all the way up under the sleeves of my orange prison jumpsuit. Prisoner number 51973 was my secret identity, and the fans had no idea I was performing for them twice. Some of them might be finding that out right now as they read this. I ended up making 150 percent of my single match rate, and that was good enough. I loved stepping into that ring, and it gave me the chance to do it twice as often for a while.

Prizon Rulz was a far cry from my primary gimmick. JQ Publikwas a ladies’ man and just a general man of the people. He sometimes danced with kids before the match, and sometimes he kissed other guys’ girlfriends on the way to the ring (on the hand, like a gentleman). The JQ match was also important to me, but I really needed to focus if Prizon Rulz was going to stand a chance out there against Primetime Brian Lee!

Now, I’m standing behind the black curtain, knowing full well that this is one of those moments where I’m either going to step up or fall flat on my face. Whatever is going to happen, it’s going to happen right now. Then, the Prizon Rulz music hits. Every time I hear “Zero” by The Smashing Pumpkins, it still takes me back to this match. I burst through the curtain, carrying the stuffed dog and an open water bottle. Overall, there’s a mixed reaction from the fans. The kids and parents boo me while the teenagers cheer their faces off. I pour most of the water over my own head, partly to make the character look deranged, but also as my last chance to cool down my mask before it starts to get hotter and hotter under it. There were no eye holes; no facial exposure at all. As one of only two or three black men on the show, I didn’t want to blow my cover to the fans and keep all skin covered up to avoid suspicion.

As I walk around the ring, I throw the remainder of the water on the fans. Again, a mixed reaction as kids hate it and teenagers revel in it. I roll into the ring and place the puppy in the corner. As I crouch down to argue with the dog, I hear a chopper revving its engine behind the curtain.

I honestly don’t recall what song Brian Lee came out with during that match. All I hear is the roar of that crowd and the rumble of that Harley Davidson motorcycle rolling out towards me.

“...Brian Lee!!!!” The ring announcer finishes his introduction. This is actually happening. Brian parks his bike next to the ring, and he steps inside. My mind is racing. What am I going to do to prove that I deserve to be in the same ring as Brian Lee? This match is a moment I’ve dreamed about a million times. I’m standing in the ring with a former WWE Superstar. I would watch him every Monday night, and now I am standing across the ring from him. If I’m going to have any chance of getting over tonight, I have to act now.

As Lee turns to hand his entrance gear to ringside, I charge in and attack him from behind with a running double axe handle across the shoulder blades. I continue my attack with leather-gloved right-hand punches to the forehead and temple. At only six-foot-two to his six-foot-six, I’m swinging upward quite a bit. Lee soon cuts me off and takes control of the match, and we are off and running.

“We got ‘em,” he says. And he’s right. The crowd is right there with us. The last thing we want to do is lose them. “Walk and talk.” Needless to say, Brian Lee carried me through this match. I spent every ounce of my energy doing exactly what he said we would do when I met him in the locker room. The match spills to the floor. It’s no holds barred, so things get interesting. Brian hits me with a chair, a fan’s crutch, anything he can get his hands on as we take a tour of the arena. He slams me against the hockey boards. He rams my head against the television truck!

“You havin’ fun?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Let’s take it home.”

We roll back into the ring and head into the final sequence of the match. My heart is beating a mile a minute. Partly because of the hot mask and jumpsuit, but mostly I want to get this part perfect! This moment is where we leave our impression on the crowd. Brian grabs me around the throat for a Chokeslam. Out of desperation, stupidity, or genius, I kick him in the gut, and he doubles just long enough for me to be able to wriggle free of his grasp and strike again. I go for the Irish whip, but he reverses it and sends me running off the ropes. I rebound to the centre to throw a wild running clothesline, but Lee ducks it, and we turn to face each other. Suddenly, his hand is again around my throat, and I get hoisted up in the air and planted flat on my back in the middle of the ring. One, two, three!!! Ding! Ding!! Ding!!!

“Here is your winner: Brian Leeeeeeeeeeeee!!!”

I lay on the canvas, counting the ring lights with a smile under my mask. Walk and talk really worked. Many thanks to Brian for that match.

Germain Wilson is a former independent wrestler who worked the indy circuit in the early 2000s for six years as JQ Publik and also under a hood as Prizon Rulz. He is now a camera operator who works on large, well-known television productions all over Canada.

Twitter:cameragermain