It's your first match.
You are in your hometown
You've been training for months now.
This is your dream.
Center stage.
First match of the night, and you are going up against the champ.
All you have to do is take a fall 2 minutes in.
A couple of clotheslines.
A shoulder block.
Then the finisher.
That's it.
Everyone in the back is supporting you.
Telling you that you can do it.
And to relax.
You hear your opponents music and the loud boos.
(they must not like John Cena in New York)
Then the pause…
The wait before your music comes on.
Your heart skips a beat
And another
You have to tell yourself to breathe…
And there it is
Your song
The one he let you pick.
Your legs feel like rubber, you can barely move
Finally you make it to the curtain
You walk out
Look at the crowd
Everyone is cheering
There is a sign
You see a "No parking, Santino fans only"
There's a "Cenation sucks" sign
A "Jericho for president" sign
And over in the corner by the ring
There's a small one
One for you
That gives you hope
You're ready now
You run down the ramp
Arms waving
A big smile on your face
And
You fall.