THE SECRET LIFE OF US
The wrestling world is full of women determined to enter the WWE and shake up the women's division. Rachel Cook isn't one of them. She just wants to 'rassle. And make friends. And…maybe…possibly…fall in love?
Chapter One: It started with an elbow drop…
March 1987
For her, it began on 29th March 1987. Wrestlemania III. She was four years old.
Her elder brother, Paul, and her were sleeping over at their Grandparents house that night. Grandpa was pretty wound up and excited by the time they arrived. All he could talk about whilst they ate their dinner was some guys named "Hulk Hogan" and "Andre the Giant" and how "Hogan" was gonna beat "that gigantic tub of lard" and retain the championship. She didn't have a clue what the old man was gibbering on about but his excitement rubbed off on her and Paul so much so that when Granny decided it was their bedtime, Grandpa waved her away and told her "They can stay up and watch it". They had no idea what 'it' was but they were over the moon at being allowed to stay up late.
They snuggled up on the sofa, under one of Granny's crotched blankets, with a small table in front of them that held an array of juice, sweets and finger food that their Grandmother had set out before taking herself off to her bedroom to do some reading. She wasn't a fan of the sport.
As soon as the event began, the kids were hooked. Unsure of who was who and what was really going on, this being the first time they had ever seen the show, they simply cheered when Grandpa cheered and booed when he booed. On several occasions, Grandpa had gotten so caught up in the action that he had literally stood up and smacked the TV whilst shouting things at it that were, quite frankly, not fit to be heard by a four and a six year old.
They watched as The Hart foundation defeated The British Bulldogs - Grandpa was not happy about that. They saw Harley Race pin The Junkyard Dog and Butch Reed beat Koko B Ware. While her brother lapped up the actions of The Dream Team, she was enthralled with the antics of the loud, brash (and who she thought was legitimately Scottish ) character of Rowdy Roddy Piper as he stood toe to toe with Adrian Adonis. But shortly after that, she was absolutely blown away by "Macho Man" Randy Savage. Maybe it was the colourful combination of his pink trunks and yellow boots (her two favourite colours) that got her attention. Or maybe it was his loud, booming, hard not to be moved by it, entrance music Pomp and Circumstance that she was enraptured by. But whatever it was that initially piqued her interest she found herself firmly rooting for The Macho Man Randy savage.
After almost fifteen minutes of watching with bated breath and sitting on the edge of her seat (knocking over the contents of the food table on more than one occasion), the referee finally hit the mat, 1,2,3 and Ricky Steamboat won the match and was the new Intercontinental Champion.
She burst into tears. She was literally howling. Macho Man should've won. She was sure of it. It wasn't fair. He should've won. He had been robbed.
Granny came trotting back downstairs at the commotion and after taking one look at her granddaughter, her decision was made. "Bed time" she announced to the youngsters and hustled them out of the room and up to bed.
She tucked them in then crouched down beside her granddaughter, who's sobs had began to subside.
"Oh Granny it was so unfair," the four year old choked out, "Macho man should've won. He was much better than The Dragon man….MUCH better. He should still be Champion." she wailed.
"Shoosh shoosh wee one." she patted her back. "He'll win it back, they always do" she told her knowingly. Well, after years of being forced to watch the sport with her husband, she pretty much knew how it all panned out. "Calm yourself down pet, there's no use in crying over spilt milk." she soothed. "It was just a game. Now let yourself just forget about all that nonsense and go to sleep."
"Granny….." the little girl sat up as her Gran was about to exit the room "Do ladies wrestle too?"
"Aye," the old lady nodded, "I've seen a few of the ladies wrestle. But its certainly not very ladylike."
"I want to be a wrestler when I grow up Granny" little Rachel Cook announced determinedly.
"Don't be getting no funny ideas wee one" she groaned as she left the room and switched off the light. She made her way downstairs, her tongue ready to hand out a verbal thrashing to her dottery old fool of a husband for putting silly notions into their Granddaughters head.
Wrestler indeed, she thought to her self as she rolled her eyes.