Chapter 7: Who am I?
By: Chris Page
Writing Prompt: Yes
Date: 18th Jan 2022
CHAPTER 7: Who am I?
There’s a story behind everyone that defines us as to who we are or what has led us to the people we have all become today. One of the biggest criticisms that come my way is how I’m old school in the sense of the business mind that is on display every week. Everyone is quick to talk about how they live professional wrestling, and then there’s Chris Page who IS professional wrestling.
My journey into this sport began while in the womb.
Born in 1970 my mother wasn’t ever around, something about a musical career while my father was one of the premier talents out of Detriot. It’s not like I remembered a whole hell of a lot growing up in my earlier years. There was always Nanna, or so I remember her. Diann was her real name, and as I got older she would go from Nanna to Aunt Diann, my father’s sister.
She’d be the one to wake me up, make sure I was dressed, get me to school, handle any parent-teacher conferences, and basically have contact with my father. I don’t think she realized what she signed up for when you took this one. The one thing she always was, supportive of both of them. At times it felt like a programmed response as I got older in age as you’ll soon see for yourself.
Our journey begins when I was just a wee little lad of six years old.
Memories of a 6-year-old.
I always remembered waking up on Christmas morning. At six years old this wasn’t any different as I ran into the living room of my Detroit home. Santa’s cookie plate was nearly empty of Chocolate Chip cookies and the glass of milk that was once full was empty. The Christmas tree was lit up and presents lined as far as my young eyes could see.
I stormed that tree like the sands of Normandy tearing through each gift not paying attention to the contents within. It was then Aunt Diann entered the living room in her robe looking like it was a rough night.
AUNT DIANN: Merry Christmas little guy!
Her voice drew my attention as I rushed over hugging her knee caps.
CHRIS PAGE: Merry Christmas!
I let go of her legs and took Aunt Diann by the hand while we walk over to the tree through plenty of loose wrapping paper.
AUNT DIANN: Looks like you’ve already gotten started.
CHRIS PAGE: Uh-huh.
She took a present that hadn’t been ransacked from under the tree. She looked at the name tag.
AUNT DIANN: Here sweetie, this is from mommy.
CHRIS PAGE: MOMMY!
It’s funny the things you remember when you think back on life in general. I’m not sure why this Christmas is the first that I can remember… until I reflected on it. I can remember tearing into that present. The red and green shiny paper, the big red bow… but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what was inside that box.
CHRIS PAGE: Where’s mommy and daddy?
Asking that question I can remember now the look in Aunt Diann’s eyes, yet being young in impressionable she evaded like a professional.
AUNT DIANN: Honey, you know your mommy and daddy travel for work. They both travel all over the United States making people happy where ever they go. If they could be here with you they would in an instant.
CHRIS PAGE: What do they do?
She gazes into the young blue eyes of Chris.
AUNT DIANN: Mommy is a singer, she goes up on stage in front of thousands of people at a time bringing joy and happiness wherever she is. and daddy is an athlete. They love you very, very much. If they could be here they would.
It’s not like I understood a lot at such a young age. All I knew is that up until this point in time I couldn’t remember my parents being around for anything that would be considered special. Holidays were non-existent, birthdays every once in a blue moon.
CHRIS PAGE: Then why aren’t they here? I want mommy and daddy!
AUNT DIANN: I know you do sweet guy, and I know they want to be here with you.
CHRIS PAGE: At least Santa came to see me.
It’s not that I was upset. I was six. I didn’t know why they weren’t there or what their jobs were just that they weren’t.
AUNT DIANN: That’s because you’re such a good little boy.
She reached over grabbing a present that was marked From Santa. She passed it over to me which I tore open to find a box. I opened the box to find a “DONNIE PAGE” t-shirt.
AUNT DIANN: Look at that! Santa is a fan of your daddies!
I can remember sliding the box to the side tossing the shirt back in.
CHRIS PAGE: I want toys!
She reached under the tree sliding me another present.
Blood Money 2.
Well if this isn’t the sequel to the event that started it all for FIGHT! It’s was Blood Money that put this company on the map, and ever since they’ve had a hard time reaching that bar; that is until I showed up stealing the show each time I’ve graced your ring. You’re welcome for that, by the way. Nothing had been staler than the product that you were force-fed until we spiced things with the introduction of yours truly. It’s cool to admit that, now. Much like we can admit that this is supposed to serve as one versus all but we all know that isn’t going to be the case. Fast friends will be born, the NSQ will work collectively… but what if someone just a little more opportunistic were to somehow walk through the backdoor and snatch victory away from the jaws of defeat?
It just takes that one moment.
That very minute many of you have had yet few of you have seized. What I’ve seen over the last Season in Fight is enough to make me embarrassed for most of you that call yourselves professional wrestlers. All I’ve heard is the bitching, moaning, and complaining over the New Status Quo utilizing a prize that they had no concept of and was awarded by the shot callers of this organization?
Every one of you that took part in Ascension all had the same opportunities. Ya lost. Own it. Move on.
If NSQ knew ahead of time that they would be granted the rights to call their shots in regards to factions or stables then perhaps your grievances might hold some weight. So, listening to more than half of the people complaining drives my mind to a saying that I’ve used on more than one occasion; you can bitch about it, or you can do something about it. Under the structure of One versus All is could serve as that battleground for lasting impressions to be made. What’s to stop all of you; right here, right now, from digging your heels into the sand while making that stand that you’re so feverishly trying to make.
They can’t stop you from pulling your resources.
They can’t stop you from rallying behind each other for the greater good.
They can’t stop you from taking the fight to them.
… that’s if you choose too.
What about me? What about Chris Page? Where do I fit in this equation?
I’ve made no bones about it- I don’t have a horse in that race. I’m entering this event to continue to drive home my narrative that leadership is by example. Take my own company; CCP Enterprises, how would I look being a figurehead standing back dictating while refusing to get my hands dirty? What kind of leader would I be if I didn’t show up, if I didn’t put my best foot forward, or if I didn’t continue showing the world exactly why I am the upper echelon of this business?
I fit into this equation where I choose.
I’m smart enough to know there’s a time and a place for every showdown.
Memories of a 9-year-old
My ninth birthday was something that packed some sort of significance. I remember the big yellow bouncy palace in the backyard next to the pool, kids I didn’t even know running around throughout the massive yard from the pool to the bouncy palace, someone was grilling some hamburgers and hotdogs, several tables full of presents with some snazzy disco music playing for the utter amusement of the guests.
Only I wasn’t there.
My Aunt was upstairs in our massive home knocking on my bedroom door. I locked myself in my room because yet again I felt isolated like I’d felt throughout the majority of my life.
AUNT DIANN: Christopher, honey, come on open the door, and enjoy your birthday party. You have so many people outside playing and waiting for you.
I sat in the middle of the floor in front of the footrest of my full-sized bed.
CHRIS PAGE: I want my mommy!
The only thing I could remember wanting was the warmth of my mother’s touch. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw my mother’s face that wasn’t inside a picture frame, and even then I was an infant.
I can remember crying, openly balling my eyes out behind that locked door.
AUNT DIANN: Chris, honey, unlock the door and let me in.
CHRIS PAGE: NO!
Looking back on it now I can only imagine being in my Aunt’s shoes. It had to be a tough position to be put in raising the child of your older brother while trying to keep some semblance of peace. I wish I could have understood back then why she was making these sacrifices.
It wasn’t until much later in my life that I would fully understand.
CHRIS PAGE: I want my mommy!
It was then that I realized I wasn’t the only one crying. Hearing the sounds of a grown woman openly weeping on the other side of my bedroom door took all of my attention as I remembered wiping my eyes clear before opening the door. It was there that I found my Aunt on her knees with her head in her hands.
She raised her head, tears running down both cheeks as she looked directly into my eyes and my soul.
AUNT DIANN: Baby, you have to help me here. I might not be your mother, but I’m here for you every day. I know you want her, I do too, but today’s your birthday. You should be downstairs having fun with your friends. So can you do Aunt Diann a favor?
CHRIS PAGE: Yes mam.
AUNT DIANN: Can you please go outside and have a little fun and let me worry about getting mom or dad on the phone?
Reluctantly I nodded my head. She hugged me and sent me on my way. I blended in, pretended to have a good time. About an hour or so later I ran into the kitchen when I overheard her on the phone as she was tucked away behind the pantry door. The swirl cord from the phone was a dead giveaway.
AUNT DIANN: I can’t believe that you elected to stay over in New York rather than be here for your son on his birthday! Between you and Donnie he thinks neither of you wants him, and that’s just not fair to him. You didn’t have to listen to him cry for you today, don’t you dare, Stevie…
I ran back outside before she came out of the pantry.
People have asked what makes me tick.
Why am I so driven by professional wrestling? I’ve had a lot of trials and tribulations within my life that have directly and indirectly led me down the road I’ve traveled to get to the position within the business that I am. People are quick to come to the forefront with the “fuck you’s” or the ever clever old or fat insults, and these are the same people that when that camera is turned off are reaching out to work with who, exactly?
Why is that?
Why is my dance card for the year nearly filled without being under contract to ANY organization if I’m that fucking terrible or have no concept of what I’m doing when it works or else you fuckboys wouldn’t be tagging my name in your shit just to get a little bit of that Chris Page shines.
So I tell you what; why don’t you watch Blood Money 2.
Put your money on the table, order that event or choose to take part. Everyone had the option, yet sideline hoes will always be sideline hoes. They’re that way for a reason.
All eyes are locked on taking down NSQ- which is exactly what I want because you’re all blinded by the names of James Raven, Dickie Watson, Betsy Granger, Aidan Reynolds, Shawn Warstein, or his side piece for time being will create that those handfuls of moments that very well could lead to history being made.
Dickie Watson is a good place to start.
Thank God I wasn’t thinking Dolly Waters.
You’re the one that put all the pieces together at this inaugural event which makes you the benchmark. I’ve not had any issues with what you or NSQ are doing because if I was gifted that same power I would have made the same moves only I would have closed the loopholes. Business my dude, business. It’s interesting to see how smart the group claims it was so easy to workaround it. This ironclad lock you and the rest of the group think you have has already been penetrated with none of you doing anything to stop it. Do you know how I know?
… because I’ve done it.
While everyone else has had your attention over on the right side none of you have been paying attention to what’s been going on with the left. If I wanted, this notion that NSQ runs anything would have been squashed within season two, but that’s not why I’m here. I just wanted to prove that it could be done… and since I’ve now proven beyond any shadow of a doubt that I can do it the only way to cement that is to display it live from Disney in Orlando.
We all know what to expect from you and the company you keep.
All for one and all.
If I’m you, where I’m feeling the pressure rests with how you know that straight one on one you can knock off just about anyone yet this is one versus all. Can you do it again when your elements of surprise are struck from the record? This isn’t last year, bud. I expect that you above anyone else will be coming in riding that wave of momentum with your nose flung up in the air at everyone else… rightfully so, you’ve been the King of Fight since day oneish, but even kings get overtaken. What makes this just a little sweeter rests with the first Venom following this- because when I beat you on this stage means it’s pretty much a foregone conclusion that I’ll do it again; who the fuck do you think I am, Dane Preston?
Memories of a 12-year-old.
Joe Louis Arena
Aunt Diann held my hand as he walked the backstage corridors of the Joe Louis Arena as a Thanksgiving Thunder Event for the World Wide Wrestling Association had just wrapped up. The Main Event featured my father, “Dastardly” Donnie Page retaining his WWWA World Heavyweight Championship over the hometown hero of “Motor City Madman” Carlos Rodriguez.
As she held my hand walking past various crew members I couldn’t help but ask.
CHRIS PAGE: Aunt Diann, why did dad cheat to win? Why does he always cheat to win? Is he that bad of a guy?
I wasn’t smart to the business or the inner workings of it. Even with the limited occasions, I got to spend some time with the old man I never thought to ask him. It was cool to say my dad is a professional wrestler, but as I’ve gotten older I’ve taken scrutiny from other kids in school over how or why he’s been a mainstay as he’s been.
AUNT DIANN: Maybe you should ask him when we see him in a few minutes.
CHRIS PAGE: Is mommy here?
AUNT DIANN: No angel, she isn’t.
When it comes to my parents I’ve grown into the fact that they’re both on the road well over three hundred days out of the year. When it comes to my mother she’s more absent than my father. As a kid, it was easy to say they’re working, but at some point, you start to think that maybe they don’t want to be around you?
CHRIS PAGE: I feel like they hate me.
She stops and kneels looking into my adolescent face.
AUNT DIANN: Honey they don’t hate you. They both work very hard for you, for our family so that we don’t have to. God blessed them with abilities that most don’t have. I know you want to see them every day, and just as much as you want to see them they equally want to see you.
CHRIS PAGE: It’s just hard sometimes because I don’t see them, rarely talk to them.
1982 payphones were the way of the world. Hard to believe there were simpler times where nobody was plugged in twenty-four-seven. You didn’t have instant access like we do today. You weren’t able to throw out a tweet and have four or five people bully your posts to make themselves feel good.
CHRIS PAGE: It’s like I’m not important to them.
She let out a deep sigh while lifting herself back up to an upright position.
AUNT DIANN: Christopher, if you weren’t important to them they wouldn’t put themselves through the constant life on the road. I tell you what, ask your dad how he feels about you in just a few minutes. That man loves you more than life itself.
While getting older I started getting wiser. It’s not that I’ve doubted their love for me, it’s been the time. I didn’t have the same childhood as everyone else. Sure, I was fortunate enough to do whatever but you can’t put a price on a family. A real family.
She led me by the hand to a closed door that had my father’s written across some tape on it where she knocked several times before opening the door where I saw my father shaking hands with “The Motor City Madman” before he noticed and sucker-punched him in the jaw.
He took Carlos and flung him out the door before slamming it shut with us inside. His eyes were as red as fire as he glared over at my Aunt before snatching her by the right arm and yanking her into what I assumed was his private bathroom. Another door slammed, and all I heard was yelling from my father.
DONNIE PAGE: I fucking told you I’d come to get you! Why the hell did you bring him back here?!?! You just ruined EVERYTHING!
AUNT DIANN: Don I didn’t kn…
DONNIE PAGE: SHUT YOUR MOUTH!
I heard a thud before the door swung over where my father walked out shaking his right hand as my Aunt followed closely behind with a smile on her face like there’s not a care in the world.
DONNIE PAGE: Hey kiddo!
He picked me up with ease as he pretended to body slam me on his locker room floor. He lightly laid me down before helping me get back up.
CHRIS PAGE: Daddy!
I giggled intently as he poked at each side of my ribs.
DONNIE PAGE: Did you see your old man out there tonight?
He turned and grabbed the WWWA Heavyweight Championship as I asked.
CHRIS PAGE: Yeah, but why did you hit him with the belt? And then just a minute ago you sucker-punched him…
He cut his eyes over towards my Aunt who seemingly suck down in the chair she was occupying before turning his attention back towards me.
CHRIS PAGE: You yelled at Aunt Diann…
He interrupted me before I could continue the direction I was going as to be walked over rubbing the top of my head.
DONNIE PAGE: Son, if you don’t learn anything from me you learn this. Nobody is going to give you anything, they’re only going to try and take it.
He lifts his title eye level to me.
DONNIE PAGE: This right here provides for you every single day. Don’t you like having everything you want? Living in a really big house? Always have the nicest clothes?
You’d think that this would be a rhetorical question.
DONNIE PAGE: Answer me, boy.
My Aunt called out from her chair.
AUNT DIANN: Don…
He whipped around in her direction with intensity in his voice.
DONNIE PAGE: I don’t remember asking you anything, Diann.
He turned back towards me, looking down into my eyes.
DONNIE PAGE: I asked you a question. Don’t you like having nice things?
CHRIS PAGE: Ye..yes sir.
DONNIE PAGE: Being on top provides you with everything under the stars. Anytime someone tries to take this away from me they’re taking food off your table. Am I such a bad guy?
He pinched me on the side of the cheek before turning back around towards my Aunt.
DONNIE PAGE: Get him out of here. He better be asleep when I get home.
He spout out with hostility in his voice. She got up and walked over grabbing me by the hand as we abruptly left his dressing room.
This was the night that things started to line up. I never saw my old man snap like that towards anyone unless it was on television. I can remember trying to ask my Aunt what I did that was so terrible that it garnered that sort of response? She continued to reassure me that it wasn’t me; that he is stressed out over constant travel.
I was starting to see otherwise.
I wonder if the Fight Roster realizes this is the moment that they’ve been clamoring for. It’s hard to discuss Blood Money 2 without firmly establishing that on this night there’s nothing stopping you from ganging up on the gang themselves without repercussions. What are they going to say? If anyone teams up against them they’re in breach of contract? Get the fuck outta here, THEY want to continue their dominance by running rough shots over you. Not to mention they’d look like some bitches but more importantly who the fuck is going intervein? Damn sure isn’t the powers that be.
I’ve strategically positioned all the right pieces on this chessboard in anticipation of this one event.
Since my debut in Fight, I’ve risen through the ranks. I’ve established myself as a major player in a short period which is exactly why I came here. I’m that guy that has knocked off two of your former champions without breaking a sweat. Todrick Tabor-Ramsey found out why I’m the man a week after losing that Manhattan Championship, I knocked off some Australian prick that carried one-half of the Island Championship. I decimated some so-called deathmatch icon in Brandon Moore, but perhaps most importantly I mopped the floor with everyone’s favorite legend, Centurion at Countdown. What the fuck have the rest of you done over the last eight weeks or so? It damn sure hasn’t been making an impact unless you’ve signed that dotted line with CCP Enterprises.
The trap has been set.
The execution has been flawless up until this point.
The game is about to change… don’t take my word for it.
The proof is going to be in the pudding, as they say.
The fact of the matter is Blood Money 2 ends one way; CCP Enterprises on top.
I mean, it’s not like many of you pose me a threat on your best days and my worst. Austin Ramsey? Been there, beat that. Dave the Dinosaur? Love the commitment but you’re better suited for a pre-show on a third-rate program. Vhodka Black, the words enhancement talent come to mind when you look at anything she’s tried to accomplish. Miss Michelle, if you win a title and lose it within a month who the fuck are you? The cream rises to the top and can stay at the top which is one reason why you’re equally a lost cause. I could run through every one of you, but what’s the point? This comes down to a mere handful of talents that will weather the storm to the closing moments of the event itself. What about The Pheonix sisters? I love me some Tara, lord only knows I’ll never live down the piss heard around the world some twenty years ago. I evened that score in other pastures, I just hope Mama Bears knows to leave well enough alone for I’d hate to be that guy that snaps her like a twig. Jeanie, recently acquainted, had a fun time with her in Tampa recently; both are prime real estate for CCP Enterprises. All you have to do is ask.
I’m walking in with a game plan.
It’s not going to let me down.
That’s the thing when you’re the Guru of Professional Wrestling you out fox the foxes.
Memories of a 16-year-old
High School Amateur Wrestling Showdown
In high school, I got into wrestling. It was the mid-eighties, life was good. I had seen my father a handful of times since that fateful November night. I hadn’t put a lot of thought into him as I was wrapped up with life itself. Pops had shown up at a few wrestling meets; always garnering the attention and the spotlight. As a sophomore, I made state for the first time. A huge sense of accomplishment at 6’5, 220lbs with an unblemished record throughout the season.
I met a girl, Angel Garcia, she was on the cheerleading team, a typical Latina teenage girl living life in the ’80s. Dark silky hair, light complexion.
Why this memory serves as a crucial intersection within my life is because this is the day that I vowed that I would never be like my father.
“Are you ready, babe?”
Angel asked as he brushed away her bangs behind her right ear. She was stunning per usual as we were in the locker room where final preparations for the Championship match were underway. My Aunt was in the room as well, she’s always had my back, and I love her dearly.
CHRIS PAGE: I was born ready.
Chris adjusted his singlet before turning towards Aunt Diann who has the headgear in her hand.
AUNT DIANN: Your parents are so proud of you.
CHRIS PAGE: At least they’ve told one of us.
She handed me my headgear as Angel immediately responds before my Aunt.
ANGEL GARCIA: Don’t be like that, come on.
I couldn’t help but shake my head because by now in my life I’ve all but written off both my mother and father. Absentee parents failed me to the level that I stopped expecting to see them.
CHRIS PAGE: I mean this in the nicest possible way but uh, my parents care more about their lives and careers than they ever have of me.
My Aunt popped me on the side of the face as she quickly corrected me.
AUNT DIANN: Don’t you dare speak about your parents that way in front of me ever again.
CHRIS PAGE: Why?! You’ve raised me! You should be more pissed than I am over the fact that you’ve had to give up YOUR life to take care of me! It’s bullshit! Why do you take up for them for being so selfish!
I couldn’t take it anymore.
Emotionally I knew I was fucked up. For sixteen years this has been brewing overseeing my father a whopping ten days a year if I was lucky, and my mother, who the fuck knows because speaking to her even less makes her almost nonexistent to me.
CHRIS PAGE: It’s always the same thing with you! Chris, they’re entertainers, they’re providing for you, blah, blah, blah… For Christ’s sake, they’re not even married! I don’t even remember who my mother fucking is! To see my dad, I have to watch him on television! Don’t you dare tell me how to speak on the two people that are supposed to be here on days like this can’t be bothered to make time for me!
Instantly I could tell that my words were striking my Aunt to the core because she knew that I was right. The fairytale that she had been able to portray had run its course. Like the wrath of Hades, I reigned down a verbal onslaught.
CHRIS PAGE: They don’t get that out anymore.
ANGEL GARCIA: Chris, try to calm down.
I could feel myself getting to the point I could almost turn green and grow six sizes bigger as I wanted to smash.
Taking several deep breaths I could feel myself almost to the point of hyperventilating.
“Yeah son, calm down.”
The voice of my father rang out from behind all of us. We all shocking spun around to see Donnie Page dressed like a million bucks from head to toe, he’s aged, now in his late fifties, and still in decent shape.
The fire was in his eyes as he sauntered into the locker room.
DONNIE PAGE: Surprised to see me? At least from the sounds of what I was hearing.
AUNT DIANN: He didn’t mean it…
DONNIE PAGE: SHUT THE FUCK UP!
Angel jumped behind me as the veins started popping out of his neck, his face started to turn a bright shade of red as I stepped forward.
CHRIS PAGE: Don’t talk to her like that!
DONNIE PAGE: Or what? Don’t try to impress your little girlfriend over there acting like your some tough guy. Do you think making a state final makes you a big man? All you have to do is take your best shot, kid.
It was like I was shot out from a cannon because I lunged at my father taking that shot he clamored for, only to have him catch my right hand, twist it behind my back.
… The next thing I felt was immense pain while the bone snapped.
I dropped to the floor clutching my right arm as tears flowed from my eyes. Angel knelt in an attempt to check on me only to receive a lashing verbally.
DONNIE PAGE: Don’t you fucking touch him!
He whipped towards my Aunt.
DONNIE PAGE: You had one job, just one.
Shaking his head he looked back down at me as I slide back against a wooden bench.
DONNIE PAGE: I don’t guess you’ll be winning State tonight, better luck next year.
He knelt down looking into my soul.
DONNIE PAGE: Take a swing at me again… it’ll be the last swing you ever take; you understand me, boy?
He stood up turned his back and left me there causing a forfeit to something I busted my ass to get. He took that away from me, and this was the day that I decided that not only was I going to be a professional wrestler… but I was going to be better than he ever thought of.
When that fucker broke my arm I knew I had to shatter his spirits. The one thing my father prided himself on more than anything else was professional wrestling. I use the pretense because he’s long gone. I look at moments like this; moments like Blood Money 2 as ways to further establish that at this age I’m still better than ninety-five percent of the talent in the business but that I’m one hundred percent better than he ever was. I’ve got ties to a lot of talent in this business. Betsy Granger for example. She’s rocking NSQ but also teams with me within the land of Thunder Pro Wrestling. Does her allegiance to NSQ mean that I can’t associate with her because she’s goddamn good at what she does? It baffles my mind how personally people take things because it only serves as a weakness. I’ve got respect for everyone involved within NSQ; but this is business, not personal. I know that if and when our paths cross where her loyalties will lay, and that’s okay. She should understand much like that of Shawn Warstein that I don’t give a fuck about what transpires while this party is in progress because I’m that mother fucker that will go to depths that no one else is willing to go, I’m that prick that will stoop to any degree if it means I or someone that can initiate change. You can only be on top for so long before the scenery craves a drastic overhaul. That’s the position Fight has found itself in here and now.
Never has fresh breath into depleting lungs ever been more warranted.
Never has the pulse been this dull.
Inject a little Chris Page into those veins and let me show you a whole new world that you never knew existed because you’re blinded by your selfish natures or overinflated egos. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got my ego the size of Texas, but the difference lies with I can fucking admit it. Not only do I admit it, but I also own it. Yet with my ego comes something that everyone has yet most of you rarely utilize, your goddamn brain. How many times do I have to tell you that when it comes to this conglomerant it’s just as mental as it is physical? It’s not my fault nor my problem that the powers that be don’t understand why I’m solely wrapped around the sport it just further indicates how out of touch they are and exactly why they need someone like me attached to this event. Fuck what ya heard. Blood Money 2 live from Disney is going to be my crowning moment. The only thing Fight missed the boat on was timing. Had this taken place in October you could have looped into Halloween Horror Nights as an attraction and made more money off things. You’ve got a lot of Fight Talent under the impression that the magic of Disney might help catapult them to a victory; while Disney is notorious for Good overcoming Evil that resides in the fairytale nature of Walt himself versus the reality that this is built for a handful to survive. What sucks for the Fight Roster, those of whom have visions of doing better than they did last year you’re more fucked than Centurion was the moment they signed the dotted line to dance with me at Countdown. You’ve got way more talented people involved this year versus last, you’re not safe within your bubbles anymore because Chris Page is here, and he ain’t coming alone.
Memories of a 20-year-old
I vowed at sixteen that I would not only get into Professional Wrestling but that I would surpass everything that he’s accomplished, leaving an impression that trumps his in every sense of the word. I went back to when I was twelve rememberings “The Motor City Madman”. The sucker punch heard round the world is what it became known as amongst the talent from that era; he never got his revenge. Who better to train me? It was a stretch when I reached out to him at the age of eighteen, freshly graduated from high school, and made that phone call. It took a little work to track him down, all of which went on behind my Aunt’s back. She was against all of this.
Carlos not only answered the call but he agreed to train me for free. His stance was just as simple as mine- why not have someone my father loathes be responsible for what success would no doubt come. It’s a double middle finger if there ever was one, right? Angel and I had been together four and a half years at this point, the words high school sweethearts applied to us. She was always supportive and there for me through every step as I was welcomed into an exclusive club known as professional wrestlers.
For nearly two years I learned the craft.
I wanted to make sure that when I debuted that not only was I ready but that I was going to leave a lasting impression especially using the “Page” name. I didn’t have this illustrious debut, not by any means. I debuted in Carlos’s independent organization in a south Detroit high school gym in front of like fifty people.
I was still excited.
ANGEL GARCIA: I can’t wait to see you out there tonight!
Angel was stoked for my professional wrestling debut, almost as much as I was. She knew how much it meant to me to make this work. She was there for the endless training and allowing me to get as much time in with Carlos as possible for this one defining moment as we sat in the car outside of the gymnasium.
CHRIS PAGE: I know right! Tonight is the night that I can put everything I’ve been taught into practice.
It was a big night for me because it was the first night of my new career. I didn’t have a backup plan. It was wrestling or bust. Make or break. First impressions are everything.
ANGEL GARCIA: Just don’t get nervous because you’re going to do just fine.
CHRIS PAGE: It’s a little late for that babe because the butterflies are already in the pit of my stomach.
But not because of my debut.
CHRIS PAGE: Angel…
Turning from the driver’s seat I looked over at Angel. Her sheer beauty alone is striking.
CHRIS PAGE: You and my Aunt are the only consistent in my life. Over the last four years, I don’t know how I would have gotten by without you. There’s not another person on the planet that I want to share this moment with than you.
Grabbing her by the hand I gazed into her brown eyes.
CHRIS PAGE: I’m not only going to be better than my father but I’m going to prove that you can be an entertainer and a family man. I want to prove that to you.
I pulled out a ring box from the inner panel of my door and opened it up to reveal a diamond engagement ring.
CHRIS PAGE: Before I take one step into that locker room I want to know if you’ll marry me?
Okay so it wasn’t the most romantic proposal with all the bells and whistles one might expect but I’ve never been an over-the-top kinda guy. I’ve tried to keep myself deep-rooted in reality versus what the perception of most is.
She squeezed my hand as tears started to form in her eyes.
ANGEL GARCIA: One hundred percent, yes!
I pulled her in kissing her on her moist lips, holding her tight before drawing away where I put slid the ring on her ring finger.
CHRIS PAGE: I promise you that I’m always going to be there for you, that you will have priority. I love you so much!
ANGEL GARCIA: I love you too!
I’ve already spoken on the complacency of the Fight Roster. I’ve made very bold statements on how I’ve already gotten around the NSQ nonsense that most complained about versus doing something about. So, let’s talk CCP Enterprises, shall we? An assembly of talent that can rival the NSQ without batting eyelashes if that’s what we so chose to do.
But how is this possible?
How can a “faction” enter with the NSQ calling the shots on who can do what?
Allow me to tell you.
When you’re Chris Page and you see a problem, you find a solution.
Again, boils back to either bitch about it or do something about it, are we keeping up? Just checking because you’d be correct if NSQ calls that shot for FACTIONS, not a business. You see folks, the terminology is key, and the moment that announcement was made at Ascension that NSQ would be the only faction in Fight the immediate workaround was to create a business, contract the talent so when you try that bullshit with me it’s thrown right back in your goddamn faces!
I’m not coming to Blood Money 2 alone; Sahara, while her personal life is what most of you choose to attack you all seem to lose sight of what she’s is capable of accomplishing. Just because Earth Girl’s Are Easy doesn’t mean she can’t hold her own, it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t deserve a shot to sit at the table and show the world exactly what she’s made of. All she needed for the opportunity, the same opportunity that Fights squandered through their fingertips as they’ve done with so many of you. Bam Miller, a guy that has all the tools just lacks the guidance. He’s willing to shut his mouth, open his ears and eyes while learning how this business operates. He’s a fucking soldier. Sebastian Everett-Bryce; UGWC and Pro Wrestling Valor rockstar. I guy that’s never gotten his just due because people are blinded by the lacklusterness of a Centurion. This guy has already done more than most, and now he’s ready to take that next step towards immortality. Joe Montouri, another member on the Fight roster that has been overlooked and underplayed since Season One. He’s got something to prove, and Blood Money is the stage to prove it. Peter Vaughn, Thunder Pro Wrestling’s International Champion. Yet another guy that’s been turning heads since bursting on the scene five months ago, and Ricky Rodriguez who is on the cusp of breaking through his glass ceiling but only needs a little direction to find the sweet spot so it shatters upon impact.
Are you scared?
Of course, you’re not… but you should be.
This company that I keep is more than enough to even the odds should NSQ or anyone else for that matter try to stand in our way of cementing Blood Money 2 as the CCP Enterprise Show. One of us is going to be the one that’s left standing. If that means I have to be eliminated for someone else to succeed, I’m good with that. Can any of you; outside of my talents sit back and say the same thing? We know that Warstein has been trailing Dickie long enough that his ego is going to eventually take control of that narrative. The game plan for them would have to them versus everyone else until the time for them to take each other out came to the equation. A balancing act is all that is or ever was needed to shut this shit down.
What you should all be asking yourselves now is this.
That’s just who you know about… Who don’t you know about? Ah.
What if I said I haven’t revealed all my cards? What if I told you that there’s more in play just waiting for the calculated second to reveal themselves? And what if I told you Blood Money 2 might be the place for one or two of these very reveals? What you should all be concerned with isn’t what I’ve allowed you to know versus what you do not.
Memories of a 25-year-old
Los Angeles, California
Five years after making my professional wrestling debut, four years of marriage, two kids later I found myself in Los Angeles, California on what was supposed to be my Honeymoon defending the IWA World Heavyweight Championship. I’d been on top almost a year, my first real run with a major championship. The money was incredible, working six days a week, twice on Saturday’s usually going sixty minutes or damn near close to it.
I’d just finished a show, successfully retaining the title before checking into a Marriot off the Hollywood Strip.
Once I got to my suite, took a few minutes to get myself together before I reached for my AT&T bagged car phone, dialed the home number before putting the call on speaker. Several rings before Angel answered the phone with the sounds of a screaming 5-year-old and 3-year-old in the background.
CHRIS PAGE: Hey babe, how are things with my favorite ladies?
ANGEL PAGE: Eh, tired.
I could hear it in her voice, the sheer exhaustion of raising two kids can’t be easy.
CHRIS PAGE: Try to get some rest.
ANGEL PAGE: It’s easier said than done with the babies running around ninety to nothing. Better question, when will you be home. It’s been forever since the kids or I have seen you.
CHRIS PAGE: I’m in Los Angeles tonight, Vegas tomorrow night, Salt Lake City then home for a day, and then I have an overseas tour of England and Russia.
She lets out a deep sigh.
CHRIS PAGE: What’s the matter?
I could tell that there was some more meat on the bone. Probably shouldn’t have asked the question.
ANGEL PAGE: I don’t want to get into it over the phone.
CHRIS PAGE: Don’t be like that. What’s up?
She screamed at the girls in the background to quiet them down. Frustration beaming from her vocal cords.
ANGEL PAGE: Chris I don’t want to get into it because you’re not going to understand.
CHRIS PAGE: Try me.
ANGEL PAGE: Okay… Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.
ANGEL PAGE: Do you remember the night you asked me to marry you?
CHRIS PAGE: Of course I do. It was one of the happiest days of my life.
ANGEL PAGE: Do you remember what you told me? You said you’d always be here for the important things…
She started to sniffle as she continued.
ANGEL PAGE: What’s today?
CHRIS PAGE: Uh… Thursday.
ANGEL PAGE: It’s our wedding anniversary…
CHRIS PAGE: Oh… fuck.
ANGEL PAGE: Do you know how many anniversaries you’ve been home for? One, Chris. One.
CHRIS PAGE: Babe…
She immediately cut me off.
ANGEL PAGE: No sir. You get to listen… you promised me that you’d be here and you’re not. You promised me that you’d be anything but your father, and in hindsight, you are your father.
She slammed the phone down hanging it up on me. I sat on the side of my king-sized bed but before I could even take a half of a second to think there’s a knock heard coming from the door. I knew who it was before I even got up.
Once I answered the door, Nancy, someone I often met with while in LA; a bombshell blonde, an aspiring actress (tinsel town and all) walked through the door throwing her arms over my shoulders while jumping up on me and wrapping her legs around my waist. She plants one on me as the door closes.
I’ve always been the first person to tell you that I’m far from perfect. You don’t have to look far if you want to dig up some dirt on anyone, especially Chris Page. I’m a self-labeled asshole, dickhead, douche bag, the list goes on and on for miles and miles. I’ll be all that. Do you know what else I am?
Success has a price for everyone.
My price has always been by any means necessary.
It’s one thing to make false narratives about being on top of the world, it’s something different when you are on top of the world. I’m one of those talents that not only command the spotlight… I take it. Fuck this sitting around horse shit, if you want it… get it. So what do I want out of Blood Money 2? Ah, now that’s the question. I’ve made it clear that Championships aren’t what fuels my desire. Been there, done that. If it happens to come my way, say in Pro Wrestling Excellence I’ll add it to the trophy room, but actively seeking them… eh…
I’ve always been driven to be better than my old man.
I surpassed him decades ago.
Now I’m driven to be…
The GOAT killer.
I’ll see you in Vegas.
How do you prove to the world that you’re not just hype? You show up in what most call the number one federation on television today, at the biggest cluster fuck event of all time, and you fucking survive. You don’t get my age, traveling the world five, six days a week… not because I have to, but because I choose to without having the instincts to make your mark when it matters. It matters now within the world of Fight. Do I want to win this? Just like everyone else on the roster and all those joining us for this momentous occasion. I’m also a realist that can’t guarantee it within a shootout like we’ve found ourselves in.
What I can do is shift the dynamics to a more feasible level of greater success.
The way I see it, if the roster wants to beat the piss out of NSQ and make them their bitch. Rally behind the one guy that stands a chance at making it happen, rally behind CCP Enterprises for we are that change of climate this organization needs.
Memories of a 28-year-old
I was never able to make everything one hundred percent right with Angel. I did the big holidays for several years later only to fall back off that wagon when I missed my youngest daughter’s sixth birthday. I had just finished retaining the World Heavyweight Championship at the Tampa Bay Times Forum and had left the arena headed down Channelside Drive towards the interstate to go ahead and get on the road to Saint Petersburg, a short thirtyish minute commute for tomorrow night’s show.
I called Angel from the car phone but got no answer at home.
CHRIS PAGE: Weird.
I tried her car phone.
ANGEL PAGE: Look who decided to call!
CHRIS PAGE: What are you talking about? I call every day.
ANGEL PAGE: Tuesday Chris, Tuesday a WEEK ago!
Hearing the sounds of the wind whipping on her side makes me ask.
CHRIS PAGE: What are you even doing?
ANGEL PAGE: Speeding.
CHRIS PAGE: With our kids in the car?
ANGEL PAGE: Yep.
The sounds of the engine accelerating are heard.
CHRIS PAGE: Pull over and stop. Let’s talk this out.
ANGEL PAGE: There’s nothing left for us to talk about as far as I’m concerned. I’ve dealt with you for nearly ten years. I’ve looked past you pretending to give a shit whenever you’re around, I’ve forgiven your indiscretions, I was even okay with not being your priority. Today is Cassie’s birthday, how old is she Chris?
CHRIS PAGE: Eight.
ANGEL PAGE: You’d be right if I asked about Jill. My point is proven. You are everything that you hated but worse. I can’t do this anymore, I’m not going to live like this anymore, and WE are done placing second to your career. Success has taken you to such a place that I don’t even know who you are anymore!
CHRIS PAGE: A…
ANGEL PAGE: No sir! We’d rather be dead than wait for you to slowly take us away.
The acceleration continued further before the next thing I heard was the sounds of brakes screeching before a massive crash.
CHRIS PAGE: ANGEL!
The phone went silent.
She had been drinking heavily while our kids were asleep. She got them out of bed, put them in one of our cars, and drove head-on into an eighteen-wheeler. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t have to answer for being the reason behind it. I decided at that point in my life that the business of Professional Wrestling would become my sole focus in life, only it always was. The loss shattered me personally but I only continued to thrive professionally.
When it comes to Blood Money 2 there’s not a lot left to be said. Success is what everyone seeks. Success comes with sacrifice. What are you prepared to give up to rise to the top? Planning has been critical, execution is crucial. The reality that I’ve found myself in when it comes to this specific event it’s NSQ versus Everyone; last time I checked I wasn’t cool enough for that club, so naturally, that finds me on the Everyone side. Guys, go ahead and prepare yourselves now because if NSQ falls at Blood Money 2 the picture doesn’t change for them, they still call the shots, and they know it. The only place for anyone of you to hit them where it matters is with the titles they carry with them… unless…
There’s more riding on this than anyone else is thinking about.
The brass love to throw surprises into the mix, right? Last year awarding Dickie the Empire Championship, Ascension granted the NSQ the rights to being the only faction unless they approve. Countdown the goddamn Tower fell harder than the Twin’s on 9/11; oh, did that touch a nerve? Tough shit, and now the magical world of Disney could be the host of some sort of mega prize?
My magic eight-eight ball comes up very likely.
You’re one thousand percent misguided if there’s not a bigger play being made here regardless if it’s NSQ, Fight, or CCP Enterprises; yeah fuckwits, WE are our entity entirely, and you should be thanking your stars that we’re here to make this somewhat challenging. I tried to warn you.
Now it’s too late.
Memories of a 52-year-old
I traveled back from Paris from XWF’s Warfare early where I showed up in Detroit. I’ve long moved down to Tampa, Florida, and rarely stop through my old stomping grounds for very good reason, but tonight I was compelled to do something that has been very long overdue. I had my driver take me to the cemetery where my father was buried. For the first time since I witnessed him being put underground, I found myself at my father’s headstone. Glancing around at others there are fresh flowers on several, yet his, nothing.
CHRIS PAGE: You son of a bitch. I bet you’re laughing from the ninth realm of hell knowing that I’ve become what I’ve despised the most, you.
Looking at his name etched on the headstone; DONNIE PAGE- Loving Father of One- it was enough to make me want to smash it with the sole of my shoe.
CHRIS PAGE: I made myself a promise that with Carlos trained me that I would leave a bigger stamp on this industry than you ever thought about. Eighteen World Titles, 3 Hall of Fame Inductions later I’m more relevant at fifty-two than you were at your hights, prick.
I felt the inner anger start boiling into sheer rage within the pit of my stomach.
CHRIS PAGE: I gave up everything, which if I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a fucking thing because that’s how bad I want to erase your name from wrestling! I’ve accomplished that, the only downside is your ass wasn’t alive to see it.
Knowing that you’ve sacrificed everything for the success, the fortunes, and the notoriety that come along with it has been monumental wasn’t all for nothing. Unlike my old man if I quit tomorrow the same people that you see spouting out meaningless dribble or hurling unoriginal insults in my direction are the same ones that will hit me up on the sly asking why? My point is there’s a lot of snakes that surround each one of you daily. Some blend in while others don’t. When it comes to Chris Page, at least I’m man enough to own it in advance.
I’ve never claimed to be a great guy.
Those words have come from the mouths of others.
What I care about, what I live for, what steers my ship is a success.
I can’t be everywhere, but CCP Enterprises sure as shit can.
CHRIS PAGE: I came here to tell you that while my days in the ring could be on the downward slide that the Chris Page brand is going to live on. I’m assembling the greatest pieces of talent across all the spectrums of professional wrestling, I’m teaching them through my fuck ups, through my mistakes to make them better on all fronts. While you? You’re decomposed worm food that hasn’t had a visitor since your stank ass was put there.
Shaking my head ever so slightly.
CHRIS PAGE: There’s only one Page that matters, Chris Page.
I spat on his headstone when suddenly I heard the call of an older female voice.
I turned around to see standing before me…
CHRIS PAGE: You’re Stevie Nicks…
A state of sheer and utter confusion engulfed my body.
STEVIE NICKS: I’m also your mother… and I should have reached out way sooner than now.
What in the actual fuck is going on here?
I knew that voice, I had tried to bury it ten years ago. He stepped from behind her.
CHRIS PAGE: Andy.
Upon finishing his name she spoke out,
STEVIE NICKS: I think we all need to talk.
…. TO BE CONTINUED
The mother I never remembered…
My bastard son…
Another story for another day…
The story here and now is what happens next within the confines of Fight? If you’re NSQ you’re banking whatever personal issues exist between any of you overshadow what your COMMON goal should be, especially since most of you have spent four mouths bitching about it, eliminating the NSQ piece by piece, person by person.
I’m not going to pretend that there’s not a time when the paths of Raven, Warstein, Dickie, Betsy don’t cross.
The options are very simple when it occurs.
Move on, or don’t.
Within this act of war, there’s no battle that I’m not willing to fight.
Especially when it’s just business.
Do you feel like you know what makes me tick? Can you fully understand why I am the way that I am? Let me spell it out for you one final time. Wrestling has always been a mistress that’s always been by my side. She’s never gotten pissed and is always at a good time. My goal has and always will be to further cram my foot up the dead ass of the prick that made the prick!
It takes an asshole to be this successful, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.
What character do I associate myself with under that Disney umbrella? You figure it out.
Blood Money 2.
Chris Page and CCP Enterprises arrive…
We’re coming to make history for there’s only one straw that stirs the drink, Chris Page.