Inspired by a backstage segment during the 1/21/08 episode of Raw. I don't own anything, but I love Mickie James!
I found her sitting on a bench outside the women's locker room, still in her ring attire. She was crying, and I'd be lying if I said I blamed her. This was the third straight time she had been beaten by her nemesis, the egotistical, conceited Beth Phoenix – an out-and-out bully of a woman – and was understandably at wit's end.
Now Mickie James hasn't always been one of my favorite Divas; I'd basically been taught to hate her by my oldest sister who used to hate her for no reason good enough for me. But when I got a chance to see her for myself – and a chance to get my own opinion – I couldn't help liking her cheery, bubbly manner, her lovely smile that could brighten any dark day, her spunky, fearless fighting style, and that upbeat, danceable entrance theme – although since I can't dance worth beans, I'm content to tap my foot. Now she's one of my absolute favorites.
I felt really bad for Mickie right then, and I'm usually terrible at consoling people, least of all beautiful women who are nine years older than me. But she looked so small, and vulnerable, and upset, sitting on that bench with her head down, I just wanted to sit with her, and put my arm around her, hold her, and help her feel better. I wanted to at least say something, because I'd probably never get an opportunity like this ever again anyway.
"Beth again?" I asked, taking a seat next to her.
Her head still down, she nodded silently, but didn't turn to face me.
"You want to talk about it?"
She shook her head, and sniffled.
"You sure?" I asked, "I'm a great listener. I might be able to help."
She sighed shakily and lifted her head, but still wasn't ready to look at me yet. I know how that feels; it's not that you're embarrased to be seen crying, you're just not quite ready to face anyone.
"I'm just—so frustrated," she said slowly, trying not to sob while she spoke, "Every time I go out there, I honestly give Beth everything I have. And I just—I feel like I can't beat her." She buried her face in her hands, and I wish I could say I knew how helpless she must have been feeling.
In the past, there have been times when I've felt pretty bloody useless, like I'd never amount to anything. I, myself, am guilty of sometimes letting things get to me that shouldn't. Despite that, I doubted I could really appreciate what poor little Mickie was going through. But I've been taught – and I also believe – that there's always a light at the end of the tunnel. She'd get through this.
"It'll be all right," I said, and touched her shoulder. "You'll see."
"No, it's not going to be all right," she insisted dejectedly. "It's not, it's not."
"Mickie. Mickie! Look at me." I gently took hold of her chin in my fingers, and slowly turned her face toward mine. "Just calm down. You're going to be all right."
She shook her head and shrugged helplessly. "I just don't know what to do." She started to cry again.
"Hey, hey, shhh. It's okay." I moved closer and put my arm around her small, trembling form, and she rested her head on my right shoulder. "It's okay, shhh. Everyone feels like this at some point, it's perfectly normal. It's okay," I said in a soothing voice as I placed a comforting left hand on the side of Mickie's chocolate-haired head.
I felt her arm snake around my waist, and I held her for a few minutes, not saying anything, not pulling her closer or breathing in the scent of her hair, just holding her. Save for the quiet sounds of Mickie's soft crying, the hallway was silent. It was little moments like this that I'd often dreamed about. I imagine most guys around my age would probably fantasize about situations like this turning into a romantic encounter, and then... whatever. But me? I'm probably one of the last guys on planet Earth aged between 15 and dead who dreams about having platonic encounters with beautiful women, least of all, WWE Divas. This was definitely platonic, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.
"Hey," I said, after a long while. Mickie's crying had lessened, but she hadn't moved. I was fine with that. In fact, with her leaned up against me, and my arm around her, I wouldn't have minded sitting there for hours. At least until I got hungry or had to use the restroom. "Do you know why Beth keeps beating you?"
She straightened up and stared at me with a look of despair in her eyes. "I've tried everything against her," she said forlornly. "Nothing works. It's almost as if she's invincible."
"The reason why Beth keeps beating you," I said, "is because you're letting her get to you." I paused to let this sink in.
"I may not like it, you may not like it, but the fact is, Beth Phoenix is one of the roughest, toughest, most intimidating female performers in the business today. She's bigger, stronger, maybe even a little more skilled than you are, and frankly she fights dirty. Also, right now, like it or not, she is the WWE Women's Champion. But you have something that she'll never have, and that's that you love doing what you do. You love going out to that ring, and putting on a show for your fans, who love you right back. Whereas Beth, she just fights for bragging rights and to placate her own overinflated sense of egocentric supremacy. Unfortunately, she's usually able to back up what she says, and when your respective careers are all said and done, she may end up having accomplished more than you. But that's okay. Because, at the end of the day, statistics are only numbers. Look at Hulk Hogan, for example. He's a 12-time World Champion, but beyond that, he's really not that decorated – and he's one of the greatest wrestlers of all time! Of course, I realize that there's a huge difference between you and Hogan, but my point is that you don't necessarily have to hold a belt to be a champion. What really matters is the kind of person you are, and the kind of impact you make on this business, and believe me when I say, you are, and will always be a better person than Beth Phoenix will ever be.
"Now, the next time you have to wrestle her, first what you want to do is relax, and stay focused on the here-and-now; on the match. You don't want to be thinking about what Beth has done in the past; that's what Wikipedia is for, anyway."
That brought a little smile to her teary face, and I couldn't help smiling back.
"Remind yourself, and keep reminding yourself that the reason why you're a three-time Women's Champion is because you've worked hard and managed to overcome daunting obstacles like Beth to become champion. That's the reason why you're where you are today – you're fearless. Don't let her play mind games with you, don't let her dominate you. Remember that arrogance is her weakness. If you let her know that you are not intimidated by her, and you're not going to be pushed around by her, then the chances are that she'll be the one getting frustrated, because she's practically accustomed to bullying her way to victory. For now, though, the most important thing to do is to keep your chin up. I don't want to risk jinxing you by guaranteeing that you'll beat her the next time you face her, but I will say that I have absolutely no doubt that you can and will beat her eventually. Who knows, it might even be a title match."
I stopped, surprised that I was able to come up with such a speech so naturally. I have to say it felt good, because I'm usually lousy at striking up conversations with people outside of the family, and have to really work hard to say more than just "uh huh," and "huh," and actually contribute to the discussion. To say nothing of monologuing.
By now, Mickie had ceased crying, and by the look on her face I could tell her bruised spirits were already lifting. It made me really happy to see that. Even if you are good with people, helping someone who is feeling low feel better is not easy. Sometimes it only takes a few minutes – like now, for example – and sometimes it takes hours. But it's always worth the effort.
"Thanks," Mickie said after taking a deep breath, and letting it out in a sigh of newfound confidence. "I really needed to hear that."
"Hey, any time," I said, "I'm always happy to help out, even if I can't think of anything to say, which, in my case, is usually the most often."
Mickie laughed, and stood up. I followed suit and promptly towered over her – she's 5'4" and I'm an even six feet tall.
"I thought you did fine," she said with a smile.
I couldn't resist giving her a hug. "Thank you," I replied. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No," she answered, matter-of-factly. "Though, I'm sure you know that I really appreciate the offer. I'm going to go get changed, and then head back to my hotel."
"Well, you take care, then."
"You too," she said as she opened the door to the locker room and stepped inside.
After the door closed, I turned and walked away with a smile on my face, happy to have been able to help out someone who needed to hear a few words of consolation.