Chapter 1 - Tall Girl vs Small Girl, The First Match.
My parents normally supported me in everything I did until it came to wrestling. Oh sure, they were supportive when I was 13 and started taking judo, but they became a bit apprehensive when I started hanging out with the boys on my school’s wrestling team. I used to watch the boys practice and I so wanted to get involved but being an air force brat and going to an American school in Japan my options were limited since there were no girl’s teams for me to join.
The Federal Government had this thing called Title 9 that says that if there is not an equal program for both genders that the girls would be permitted to participate on the boy’s team. When I suggested that I wanted to join the boy’s team you can imagine the looks and comments I received from mom and dad. They were steadfast in their opinion that girls should not wrestle with boys since the boys would use the matches as an excuse to grope and fondle the girl’s lady parts. Being the nerdish geekette of my school I kind of thought that being fondled wouldn’t be so bad but I did not mention this to mom and dad.
Since we were stationed in Japan at the time a compromise was reached. Girls as young as 13 were able to start their professional wrestling careers by entering training at one of the many dojos sanctioned by the major promotions like Stardom, Joshi, and Oz Academy. I was fortunate to sign up with a small dojo catering to teenage girls that was loosely associated with Joshi. Mom and dad were reluctant at first until they checked out the dojo and spoke with the owners and a few of the instructors. Learning that there were no boys allowed at the dojo mom and dad reluctantly agreed to let me train there. Mom was scared but dad knew that his little tomboy could take care of herself and explained to mom that she should just consider this as self-defense training like karate or judo. Mom eventually gave her permission but still was not too thrilled on the idea of her little girl getting tossed around a wrestling ring in skimpy outfits.
After school was done for the day I would rush to the dojo to work out and train with the other wrestlers in my age group. In training the other girls loved to try to pretzel the redheaded gaijin, but in height, weight and experience I was their equal and I did well for myself seeing as how there were no large western girls training at the dojo. I was the only gaijin training at the dojo and the Japanese girls took it as a sign of national honor to pin the flame haired western girl.
The problem with being gaijin was that I rarely got to perform in public when we had our monthly events to show our friends and family our progress. When I was able to get on the card it was usually one of the earlier matches seeing as how people were not there to see the gaijin. That changed a bit when I got older and more experienced. Word got around that I was taking down most of the local girls and then the promoter that scheduled the matches billed my match as a Japanese crusade against the evil foreign devil girl.
As I neared the age of 18 my father was transferred back to the states and that caused a dilemma for me. I wanted to stay and train and eventually start my pro career in Japan but could not stay on my own at that age so I was forced to go stateside with my parents. We ended up in Oklahoma and I was enrolled in college as a math major effectively putting my wrestling career on hold. I did however continue to train and keep myself in top shape in case I could find a way to get back into the sport that I loved. I did however keep this to myself since my parents would not understand nor would they approve if I decided to abandon college and go on the road as a professional wrestler.
One of the biggest college events of the year is the Red River Shootout which is a football game played between the Oklahoma and Texas. A friend was lucky to win tickets to the game for herself and three friends. The game was being played at the Cotton Bowl Stadium in Dallas so when the day came for the big game we piled in her boyfriend’s SUV and headed for Dallas. While we were driving through Wichita Falls we passed by Sheppard Air Force where I noticed a sign that advertised a wrestling event to benefit the base’s Sergeant’s Association. On the bottom of the sign there was a phone number under a line that read, “Local wrestlers needed.” I quickly pulled out my phone and snapped a picture of the sign before the light that we were stopped at turned green.
On Monday I called the number on the sign and asked if Norman, Oklahoma was considered local since it was only a two-hour drive from the campus to the air force base. Normally they would have turned me away but the gentleman I spoke with let me know that since they were having trouble filling the card that they would consider me. Actually, they had no problem filling the men’s side of the card, but they were coming up a bit short on the women’s side. All I needed to do was to send them a copy of my resume and a photo copy of my credentials that proved that I was a professional wrestler, and at that moment my heart skipped a beat. I was so close to living my dream… at least for one night but for lack of credentials I would not be able to participate.
I didn’t let the promoter know that I was unable to provide the requested credentials as I thanked him and promised to get my information to him shortly even though I had no idea how I was going to come up with credentials. Two days had passed when an idea hit me. The dojo that I trained at was run by several retired Japanese wrestlers that in their prime held national championships. I made a call to the dojo and spoke with Emi Sakura. She understood what I needed and after she pulled up my records she noted the length and type of training I had with the dojo. I had spent nearly six years with them and had participated in enough public matches to qualify for professional credentials in Japan with the Joshi organization even though my matches were with other students that like me were under the age of 18 at the time which is permitted in Japan. I explained why I needed credentials and Emi was kind enough to take it upon herself to put together my application package and hand walk it over to the Joshi promoter’s office.
Four days later I received a Fed-EX delivery from Emi with my certification and ID card from the Oz Academy promotion. I was surprised to see credentials from the Oz Academy but since they were a subsidiary of the Joshi people it made sense. There was a sticky note on my ID that explained that the promoters at Joshi did not feel comfortable signing me with Joshi and explained that the Oz Academy credentials will work just as well. For those not familiar with the Oz Academy it is the hardcore division of the Joshi brand. That made me smile seeing that I was associated with hardcore Japanese wrestling. I knew that this would really get me noticed by the American promoters for sure. My only fear was that maybe they would try to stick me into a match where the ring is surrounded by electrified barbed wire surrounding the ring. Even worse than that would have been a hardcore match were trash bins filled with large florescent tubes were provided for the combatants to break over each other’s heads.
I faxed my credentials to the promotor and within an hour I received a phone call stating that my credentials were impressive enough to get me on the card. I was matched up against some woman from Idaho named Cherry. I had no idea who she was but since this event was put together by an independent promotion anyone holding professional credentials were able to participate. I tried to look her up on Facebook but could not find a wrestler by her name with an account there.
I was hoping to find some stats on her to see if she was close to my size but had no luck. Being that she was from Idaho I assumed that she was some cornfed heifer and would probably make her way to the ring wearing a plaid shirt and a pair of Daisy Dukes and would most likely be barefoot. To me it did not matter who she was or where she was from I would get in the ring with her and have my first official professional wrestling match in America.
Even though it had been almost two years since I left Japan my body had not changed much. I had gained a few pounds but could still wear the same in ring attire that I wore when I was 16.
At the age of 19 I was still a whole 5’3” inches tall and I had ballooned in weight to a petite 107 pounds. I suppose I should have bulked up but I preferred high speed matches rather than trying to overpower an opponent. Thankfully in Japan most of the other wrestlers were close to my height and weight where the western girls that came to wrestle in Japan were much taller and stronger. Still we held our own in most of our matches since we were smaller and faster and could wear down a larger and slower opponent. Hopefully I’ll make a proper accounting of myself against the Idaho Potato Princess I thought to myself.
I was so excited to have a real professional match scheduled that I forgot all about trying to find out who my opponent was. Had I continued looking I would have found her information but at that point I didn’t care if she was Awesome Kong. I was going to take my lumps and make the best of my professional wrestling debut. Even thought I was credentialed using my experience in Japan as proof of professional experience, technically those were just training matches against other students on my own level. The only reason they qualified as professional matches was that they were put on by a dojo owned by a major promotion and that people paid to get into see them.
I told my roommate Drucilla that I needed to go to Wichita Falls in two weeks and had to explain to her why I was going. She had no idea that I had ever been involved in wrestling but when I told her my story she quickly volunteered to go with me. We decided to spend the weekend there so that we didn’t have to drive back to Norman after the event was over.
I spent a few days going through my old wrestling outfits seeing as how Norman Oklahoma didn’t have a shop that sold wrestling attire. They did have a sporting goods store but it had nothing that would be durable enough for the rigors of a professional wrestling match unless I wanted to buy football pants and an authentic rugby jersey. It wasn’t until the day before we were planning to drive to Texas that I made my selection. I chose the outfit that I had warn the least during my time in Japan. It consisted of a shiny silver halter top with double reinforced straps to prevent a wardrobe malfunction. The last thing I wanted to do was to flash the audience and give them a naked view of my perky B’s.
To go with the silver top was a black pair of boy shorts with one-inch silver stripes down the sides. I normally did not wear boots in Japan because I preferred to go barefoot and wear kick pads and knee pads instead. Most of the girls in Japan mixed kickboxing with their wrestling so for the last four years of my time there I also took kickboxing and found myself more comfortable barefoot in kick pads than I did in wrestling boots. I did happen to have a pair of black wrestling shoes that matched my knee pads so I just went with those seeing as how it had been a long time since I had worked out barefoot.
To give the outfit a little flair I dug out my old black half sleeves that just happened to match the shiny black shorts and covered my arms from the elbow to my hands. I figured that this would be sufficient for my first professional match. I promised myself that if this worked out I’d go shopping for some better in ring attire if I was lucky to have another match after this one.
On our drive down to Wichita Falls Drucilla did her best to destroy every bit of confidence I had in myself and my wrestling skills. The subject of our conversation ran from my height and weight which was much less than hers, to the possibility that I’d end up in the hospital where I would receive my breakfast in the morning through an IV tube. I swear that if my Jeep had a passenger ejection seat I would have launched her somewhere around Fort Sill. She did offer to act as my manager and volunteered to slip a steel folding chair into the ring to me when my opponent started to get the best of me. Notice that she used the word, “when” as if it were a foregone conclusion that I was going to get my little Polish ass whipped.
When we arrived at the aircraft hangar where the event was being held I checked in with the promoter and was sent to one of the two makeshift dressing rooms designated for the women wrestlers. The room I was assigned to was normally used as a tool crib for the aircraft mechanics. It was good to see that the American promoters kept the contestants separated so that if there was any bad blood between the wrestlers matched up that night that we’d be at opposite ends of the hanger and out of harm’s way until we were called to the ring. This blew my chance to see who the other girl was that I was scheduled to wrestle. I would just have to wait until she was called to the ring to scope her out.
I imagined that being an unknown here that I would be scheduled for one of the opening matches as the promoters like to build the card up so that the matches got progressively better the closer we got to the main event. There were no titles on the line and no champions in the house that night though there were a few of the men on the card that had held titles in the past but these days they were making their living as jobbers since they were nearing the end of their careers but still carried some name recognition. At least they had enough name recognition left that they could possibly make a young wrestler look good as he started his career.
I was sort of hoping that my opponent, the Idaho Potato Princess was one of those jobbers. I suppose it didn’t matter either way but it would have been nice to have an easy match for my first tilt at professional wrestling in America.
When it time for my match I made the walk to the ring smartly wearing my shiny and tiny black and silver outfit as AC/DC’s Who Made Who blared over the sound system that had been set up for the night’s event. When I made my entrance into the ring and my music faded a handsome sergeant in his dress blues introduced me as Tessa from Warsaw Poland (where I was born of course) and announced my height as 5’3” and 115 pounds. Of course, I cheated and added a few pounds to my weight. They didn’t make me get on a scale so I didn’t get caught fibbing.
The extra pounds wouldn’t have made a difference against the girl I was wrestling that night. When her music hit and she made her way to the ring I could see that she was about a foot taller than me, and maybe about 10 years older as she sauntered her way toward the ring. As you would expect being from a flyover state in the Midwest she was dressed in an OD green tank top, a slutty pair of Daisy Dukes that barely covered her ass, and the ever-popular white high-top sneaks. Her brown hair was short and came down near her shoulders. She made it a point to shake hands with the audience as she came down the aisle to some horrible country and western song that I did not recognize, but then I never was a fan of country and western or rap music. For lack of the song’s real name let’s just call it the mashed potato stomp, which would be a fitting song title for someone from Idaho.
When her musical assault on our senses had ended the handsome sergeant introduced her as Cherry and announced her height as 6’1” and weight at 155 pounds. That’s when it hit me that I was in for one hell of a battle with this one. I just shook my head and softly whispered to myself, “Well fuck me running!” Before the referee called us to the center of the ring for the customary instructions I began to think that I was going to find out how a mashed potato feels as I got closer to my opponent and the reality of her size sunk in.
While training in Japan I was taught that respect, honor, and sportsmanship were important, unless you happened to be a heel wrestler and I soon found out as I offered my hand in sportsmanship that not only was my Godzillaesque opponent taller, heavier, and more experienced than me, she was also a heel given the way she pretended like she was going to shake my hand. When she withdrew her hand and turned away from me I knew that this match would have a Japanese ending to it but not the sort of ending I would have hoped for. This ending would be similar to Godzilla taking a late-night stroll through the streets of Tokyo.
Given her apparent attitude toward me I knew that I would have to start quickly and try to catch her off guard. My planned assault on her was side tracked when she moved out to the center of the ring after the bell sounded with her right arm raised as if she was inviting me to join her in a test of strength. I was born at night but it wasn’t last night and I knew what would happen if I joined her in a test of strength. With her arm fully extended over her head her hand was about a foot and a half higher than I could reach without jumping and that was not an option that would work out well for me either. I looked at her face, and then looked at her hand. When she caught me with my eyes looking up at her hand she moved in quickly and punted the toe of her shoe into my unguarded tummy.
As her foot struck my flat little tummy I was forced to bend over and wrap my arms across my gut as I cursed myself for not paying attention. I now realized that the few years that I had spent outside the dojo caused me to be sloppy and I knew that I had better get my head in the game before she disconnected my head from my shoulders. Before I could get my head in the game my tall opponent drove her right forearm and clenched fist down across my upper back and shoulders while I was still bent over before her from her kick to my belly.
Her powerful clubbing blow sent me down face first on to the canvas where I rolled to my side in an attempt to get to my feet before she could do any additional damage to me. As I pushed myself up to my knees she grabbed ahold of my lovely red hair and yanked me up to my feet. I was just about to attempt some offense when she sent me flying with an Irish Whip into the corner where I hit back first.
I figured that she would charge at me in the corner and attempt to splash me against the turnbuckles as big girls usually like to do against us smaller girls. I was right in my assessment but I was off in my timing. I expected her to charge at me from the center of the ring once my back made contact with the turnbuckles. I didn’t expect her to be lumbering behind me and crash into me the second that my back hit the corner. The impact shook the ring and forced the air from my lungs as her massive body smashed me between her torso and the turnbuckles.
As I stumbled out of the corner with the air driven from my chest I was taken by the hair and tossed out of the corner toward the center of the ring. I hit the canvas and ended up a pile of redheaded humanity on my back. I attempted to get to my feet but also needed to take a few deep breaths to replenish the air that had been blasted out of my lungs. I was glad that the referee was chastising Cherry as this gave me a minute or so of extra time to catch my breath.
When I did attempt to get my feet under me and stand I felt her fingers twisting into my silky red hair. I thought she was going to yank me up to my feet and prepared myself to go with it since I didn’t want to be lifted up by my hair. Instead of helping me up she straightened me up and then clubbed me back down to the canvas with a forearm smash across my upper back.
Cherry took a few seconds to play to the crowd as I was slow getting up. I took my time seeing as how she was bragging to the audience how I’m not threat to her and even taunted me by calling me a jobber. That pissed me off and encouraged me to move faster to get into this match and back on my feet. I never made it to my feet on my own. I was just ready to stand when my tall opponent slipped her hand between my legs as her other hand gripped my throat. Like a feather pillow I was lifted high over her head and held there like a hockey trophy on display for the fans.
I tried my best to kick my feet and flail my arms to try to disrupt her balance and her grip on me but my efforts were for naught as she paraded me around the ring. When I did feel her grip slipping on my neck as I hacked at her forearm with my fist she sauntered into the middle of the ring where she dropped me. As gravity took control of me she used her hands to force me downward before finally releasing me to my fate. Unceremoniously I was dumped onto the canvas so that my back hit the canvas first. Unfortunately, she dropped down to one knee as I descended and the center of my back crashed down onto her knee. I feared that she would take me by the neck and the crotch again and grind my back against her knee. Even though my back was in great pain I still was able to roll off her knee onto the canvas where I rolled onto my right side away from her clutching my back and trying to rub away the pain.
The nursing of my injured back ended abruptly when Cherry dropped down on top of me with a Back Press across my chest and attempted to pin me. The referee stuck the canvas a twice before I was able to kick out and dislodge my opponent to avoid the count of three. I was just barely able to avoid the pin. I should have been concentrating on a second more deliberate pin attempt that might be coming but instead I went back to tending to my aching back.
I think that Cherry was becoming a bit over confident as she stood over me playing to the crowd as she taunted me about not being much competition for her. I was thinking along those same lines as she continued to berate me and announce to all listening how pathetic I was. I let her continue to rant and brag about her invincibility as I got my wits about me and rolled away from her. I came to rest on my back a few feet from her and was attempting to get up when she raised her enormous foot high over me and brought it down toward my chest in an attempt to stomp on my perky little boobs. As her foot came down I rolled again and her foot struck the canvas instead of my chest.
I wasn’t completely out of the woods having dodged that tree like leg as she tried to stomp me, but I built up a bit of momentum and was just getting up to my feet when she grabbed me by my hair with both hands and helped me up the rest of the way to a standing position. Once I was on my feet standing and facing her I brought both of my hands up between her arms in and inside out motion that forced her arms apart and freed my lovely red hair from her grip.
Even though I had to reach up to attack at an odd angle I brought my right arm down across her chest mashing her breasts against her ribs with my forearm and clenched fist. The blow caught her off guard as she backed away from me. I pressed the attack and peppered her chest with forearm blows and outright hammer fists disguised as forearm smashes so as to keep the referee from warning me about using a clenched fist.
I had her backing up as I bashed her chest repeatedly with my forearm. She put on the brakes and stopped retreating about three feet from the ropes, it was at that point that I turned and made a dash for the ropes behind me. Taking the slingshot off the ropes I sped back toward her with the intention of catching her with a running dropkick but she had my intentions figured out and as I came off the ropes she moved toward me. When I left my feet she caught me, spun me around and slammed my back into the canvas as she executed a Sit Out Powerbomb that rattled my spine and my teeth along with evacuating the air from my lungs.
I attempted to roll away from her while comforting my back but Cherry caught me by my left leg as she hooked it and went for a pin. She covered my face with her breasts as she pulled my leg up until my knee was close enough to touch my forehead had she not been in the way. The referee was quick to get into position to start the count and he had gotten to two before I realized my predicament and was just barely able to kick out to avoid the count of three which would have ended the match.
It took a few second or two for me to push myself up to my hands and knees. My back protested every move. I ended up in a three-point stance as I found myself moving my left hand to comfort the back of my head as it was now aching from the effects of the Power Bomb I had received.
Using my hair Cherry helped me up to my feet and positioned my body so that I was facing her. She quickly wrapped her left hand around my throat and had me goozled in preparation for a Choke Slam. In a panic to avoid having my back slammed into the canvas once again I balled up my right fist and started slamming it down hard on the inside of her elbow. It took three shots before her death grip on my throat was broken.
In retaliation she took a swing and me and as her right fist came streaking toward the left side of my face I caught her leaning forward and ducked under her telegraphed haymaker. Having missed she stumbled forward off balance and I caught her leaning over as she struggled to right herself. While she was off balance I moved to her right and got in behind her. Before Cherry could straighten up I hopped up on her back and snaked my left arm under her chin and then I hooked my bent elbow across her throat area. Using my right hand, I clamped down on the top of her head and locked in a sleeper hold.
Cherry tried to toss me off but as she bent forward I wrapped my legs around her waist and locked my ankles in front of her. There was no way she was going to get me off that easy. She had to abandon that idea and use her hands to pry at my arm under her chin. It didn’t take long for her to free herself from my sleeper but it gave me some time to catch my breath and allow her to expend some energy for a change.
Eventually she pulled my arm away and attempted to toss me off her back, which she did but as I went down I secured a tight hold on her left arm with both hands. Pulling myself up I wrapped my legs around her arm at the point where it meets her shoulder and as I hit the canvas I attempted to lock in an arm bar in the hope that I could obtain her submission. At first it didn’t seem like she knew what was happening until I got the arm bar locked in, but once she realized she was able to reach across her body and clench her hands together the battle for control of her arm was underway.
Normally on someone my own size I could hold my own and keep this submission hold locked in for quite some time but she was bigger and stronger and with her hands clasped together she had the leverage to relieve the pressure on her arm. I tried everything I could think of to straighten her arm out again including putting my left foot on the inside of her elbow and pushing with all the strength I could muster but it turned out to be a futile effort on my part. We struggled back and forth for what seemed like a few minutes until my arm strength started to fade but still I was not giving up the hold.
Cherry rolled over and put me on my back while she knelt above me. From that position she got her feet under her and stood upright. As she got to her feet and started to lift me off the canvas I brought my legs into play and wrapped them around her neck and locked my ankles. With her arm still securely barred I had her in a Triangle Choke and was doing the best that I could to keep her under control. Of course, this was very difficult given her size advantage but the crowd was enjoying my efforts and awarded me with cheers and words of encouragement as I attempted to choke out this female goliath.
Once she was firmly on her feet she lifted me up off the canvas as I struggled to maintain the armbar and triangle. Cherry quickly dropped to her knees and like a farmer swinging a pick she slammed my back and head into the canvas. My spine was jolted and the back of my head exploded with pain and this time I believed that I could actually see stars.
Cherry pulled me up by my hair until I was standing and as I wobbled in front of her she held my head tight with both hands clamped against my ears before she drove her forehead down into mine giving me a head butt that should have sent me back down to the canvas had she not been holding tightly onto my head. She followed the head butt up with a forearm smash across my chest. After the thumping my chest had taken I knew that “The Girls” were going to be good and bruised for the next few days or longer.
The blow staggered me back against the turnbuckles in the near corner but Cherry didn’t let me stay there long. Taking my right arm, she sent me running toward the far corner with and Irish Whip. I figured that she was probably running behind me as she did the previous time she sent me in to the corner and this time I was going to be prepared for her. As I neared the corner I stepped up on the second turnbuckle and quickly spun around with the intent of kicking her in the side of her head. Unfortunately, this time she was not following behind me.
Cherry remained in the center of the ring and stared at me as I waited on my perch. I was not about to come down from my perch either. I was going to make her come to me and after a few seconds of staring each other down she came into the corner after me. When she got close enough she took a wild closed fisted swing at me and when she did I got my right arm up and intercepted the punch. Our arms met at the elbow and when her arm bent I latched on to her arm with both hands and scissored her arm at the shoulder joint with my legs. Once I had her secured I pitched over backwards using my weight to drag her arm over the top rope as I secured it in an armbar.
Cherry screamed as my weight dragged her armpit down onto the top rope cutting off the circulation of blood and bi-directional flow of nerve impulses. She continued to scream but now I had the leverage and I was not going to let go until the referee forced me to break the hold. The ref was out of position and it took him a little longer to get over to the corner and warn me to break the hold. I held on tightly stretching her arm as she struggled to free herself and or pull me back over the top rope but in the position, we were in there was no way she was getting out of this without the intervention of the referee.
The ref eventually started his count and I held on for the full count, only releasing the hold just in time to avoid being disqualified. When I released Cherry’s arm she tucked her arm in close to her chest and turned away from me as she walked toward the center of the ring with her arm in a guarding position against her chest. With her walking away from me I made my climb up the ropes until I was up on the top turnbuckle looking at Cherry’s back as she stood in the center of the ring.
When she turned around to face me I made my move and launched myself from the top rope and attempted a Missile Dropkick to the center of her chest but she stepped forward, side stepped slightly and caught me in midair pulling me in toward her chest and positioned me as if I had attempted and failed at a cross body block. I kicked and wiggled trying to break her grip but she held me tight until she powered me down to the canvas with a body slam that shook the ring rattled my spine. The slam had me dazed and seeing stars as she had dropped me from a height of about five or six feet from the canvas.
With me laying on my back flopping about like a turtle Cherry dove on top of me chest to chest, hooked my leg and went for a pin. Once again all she could get was a count of two before I was just able to kick out before the count of three. This time she was pissed off that she did not get the three count. She looked at the referee and chastised him for not counting fast enough, and then as she locked her fingers into my hair she asked the ref, “Do you even know how to count to three?”
With her hands deep in my lovely red hair Cherry yanked me up off the canvas and sent me running toward the far corner. I planned to lift my feet up as soon as I turned and my back hit but even though I executed my plan flawlessly, instead of crashing her body into mine she raised her foot and caught me straight on in the face. I tried to turn and duck out of the way but was not fast enough as she was too close behind me when I hit the corner. Her huge foot slammed into the side of my face and knocked me senseless.
When I staggered out of the corner holding the right side of my face she took off running for the ropes. She took the slingshot and came lumbering back toward me. Her outstretched arm caught me across the upper chest and throat and I felt like I had just ridden my motorcycle into a low hanging tree branch. I crashed to the canvas and for added effect Cherry followed me down with her arm still pressing against my throat to complete the Sling Blade clothesline.
As I lay on the canvas clutching my throat and the right side of my face my opponent stood over me and drew her thumb across her throat as she played to the audience. When she got the response that she was looking for Cherry reached down and grabbed onto my hair and used it to pull me to my feet. I offered little resistance as my energy was focused on breathing after being clotheslined across my throat. Once on my feet I was quickly goozled and lifted off the canvas. I tried to resist as she held me up by my throat but I did not have long to resist before she used her grip on my throat to Choke Slam me back first onto the canvas.
Cherry was all smiles as she dove on top of me and hooked my left leg. With her chest pressed against mine the referee began his count, but this time I was too winded to resist as her greater weight pressed down on my chest prohibiting me from filling my lungs fully with air. I tried weakly to kick out at two but could not get my shoulder off the canvas this time and as the referee’s hand came down for the third time the match was ended. Shortly after the three count the bell sounded signaling the official ending of the match and my first professional loss was recorded.
