(Redux-I did some edits, hopefully the story will be more fluid guys! Update coming soon!!)
He wanted to get rid of her, at first. From day one, whenever he arrived at the gym she was already there. She's just trying to work me over. Smart for a kid. Ain't gonna work though. You have to get up pretty early in the morning to fool an old fart like me. But weeks and months and then a year passed, and little Kate Black still came early every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning. And her passion did not fade in all that time. Each session she brought her A-game-if he wanted her to do pushups, she would do them, ignoring muscle cramps and beads of sweat blinding her until he said "stop". If he wanted her to do laps, she ran until her Keds smoked. In the ring, he had his son do moves with her-bulldogs, running lariats, clothes-liners. All of these, she perfected with intense focus and little need of practice. With time and her dedication, Jose became attached to his pint-sized protégé. A bond formed between the two, not only of teacher and student but of two people who shared a deep mutual love for the same thing. Yeah, this kid's got something. She's got it. He thought to himself as he watched her hone her skills – physical, and more importantly her knowledge and appreciation for the game.
One day in early October of '82, Kate was running her routine laps when he heard her -
"Fritz Von Erich. Jack Adkisson. August sixteenth, nineteen twenty-nine. Six-foot-four. Two hundred n' sixty pounds. Debut nineteen fifty-eight. Trained by Stu Hart. Denton, Texas…"
"Blackjack Mulligan. Robert Windham. November twenty-sixth, nineteen forty-three. Six-foot-six. Three hundred and forty pounds. Trained by Verne Gagne. Eagle Pass, Texas…"
"Ric Flair…"
"Nick Bockwinkel…"
"Boris Malenko…"
By Christmas of that year, had she been old enough, Kate would have been ready to make a tape and start wrestling matches in any territory she wanted. Jose was sure. He always knew when he spotted good talent. After thirty years in the business he'd be a fool not to. When he spotted a star, the feeling was instinctual. Jose's whole body hummed with intuition, from eyebrows to toenails. He felt young again as she whipped around the ring and refined her physical skills into clean-cut movements. As she moved and worked with other students of his, fifteen and at times twenty years her senior, he saw her brain surging and plotting each step, each breath. Everything was deliberate, all a part of the story she wanted to tell in the ring. She would be cocky at times, meek at others. She could be dominant as a hurricane, but she could sell and bump all over the place when needed. She had control, she had finesse, she had power and she had knowledge. But she had female parts.
In the moments when they would talk, sometimes reminiscing about his old matches over peanut butter and banana sandwiches (nicely chilled from the mini-fridge in Jose's office), he could see she had the true wrestlers spirit. She had age in her voice, inconceivable in a now seven-year old girl. It was as though she knew the mat of the ring like it was her own skin-an extension of her own body. She could call a match as easily as she could pour milk from the carton for her morning Frosted Flakes. She was born to do this. These thoughts kept him up nights, smoking Marlboro after Marlboro in worry even though he quitted seventeen years ago. He'd run scenarios over and over in his head, well if she really worked with the guys, if they gave her a chance… if they could only see the way she does that suplex… maybe if she could just talk to someone about the business… then they'd see…… Each night Jose filled up an empty Folger's can with cigarette butts, and realized more and more there were no coulds, no maybes for Katie as a major contender with the boys. There was no future for her in the ring unless she managed or she was strictly a women's wrestler. But he knew those fates would break her heart. When she walked to her new ranch house near Randolph Air Force Base, she dreamt of standing with the Ric Flairs and Harley Races of the world, shoulder to shoulder, toe to toe and tearing the house down with them. She envisioned herself a peer, a future World Heavyweight Champion. For all the wisdom she possessed, she still naively believed in herself. She firmly gripped the idea that she would go down in the Halls of Fame as one of the greatest, gender disregarded. This hope shone from her so brightly, each lesson he saw her eyes gaining more sparkle the closer she felt she was getting to her dream. This broke his heart.
If only she was a boy. Jose got back into his queen-sized bed, rolled over hard and buried his face into his pillow. Goddamn it why couldn't she be a boy…