On the Road - The Story of the Interstate Wrestling Troupe

[Sagitta]

[I]Disclaimer: I'm not an avid wrestling fan. I haven't followed wrestling seriously since the early 90's, and I don't watch it regularly. That said, I've been a fairly loyal fan of the TEW series since the beginning, and I love the booking aspect of the game. As I also love to write (and its a hobby I've neglected far too much), I figured I'd give a shot at a diary here. If I screw any terminology up or do anything bizarre, see above where I mention I'm not a huge follower of the sport. Hopefully though this will be enjoyable, and feedback would be more than welcome.[/i] [B]The Backstory, Part 1[/B] October, 2007 This is a story. Its about an Emil Standakowski, born in 1941 to a poor couple in Poland that by pure luck managed to get out just before the Germans invaded. The family settled in upstate Pennsylvania, and raised the boy among the slag and ash of a coal town. When the boy was 16 and an all-state wrestler when he dropped out of school to help support his family. He joined the military two years later and was stationed in Europe. Upon his return, he hooked up with a small Tri-state wrestling promotion, and from there his career blossomed. You mean you never heard of Emil Standakowski? Perhaps its because he truncated the name and donned a black and white mask for twenty five years. He went by Mr. Standard. You still haven't heard of him? Thats understandable. He was a career jobber - just another man in a mask who helped propel bigger stars to their places in the annals of wrestling history. He retired from active wrestling in 1986 upon recieving news that he had an orphaned 10 year old son, the product of a late night trist with another wrestler. By all accounts he was a decent father, if a bit lost by the experience. He made steady money running the book for a couple feds in Pennsylvania and New Jersey, and supported his family well. He sent his kid off to college in hopes that he would become a doctor or a lawyer or something. Of course, he was disappointed when the boy chose to pursue a musical career instead. It was during that period that Emil grew restless. With his son away he looked back towards his wrestling days and felt the lure of the industry tugging at him. Of course he'd been away so long, he found his services in little demand. That's why he sold his house, bought some used equipment, and founded his own federation in the early 2000's. By all accounts, his little fed was barely even a blip on the industry radar - he couldn't afford to pay much, and the turnover rate of workers made long range plans next to impossible to make. Which, of course, led him to look back at his jobbing days and a couple years spent in Japan running with a tour. He figured if it worked in Japan, why not America? Thus the IWT - the Internet Wrestling Troupe - was born. Of course Emil Standard had to be different - he focused his attention on a high flying, sensory overload experience. He hired musicians to open and close the shows (all the better to put butts in the seats as he liked to say), took in just about anybody who came calling looking for a job, and found himself starting to make a success of himself. He called his boy in October of 2007, excited that his little group had made a national newspaper as 'something to watch' under a headline 'could this be the future?' Then, three days later, he died. It was a massive heart attack - no doubt the years of pills, booze and road food from his younger days had finally caught up to him. There were over 200 people at his funeral. As the people drifted away, the son was approached by an older man carrying a briefcase and an umbrella despite the fact that the threatened rain had never arrived. I still remember how he greeted me. "[COLOR="DarkSlateBlue"]Joey Standakowski? I'm Sam Tacker. I was your father's lawyer. When you get the time, we have some things we have to discuss.[/COLOR]"

[Sagitta]

[B]Backstory, Part II[/B] November, 2007 It took me over three weeks to get back to the lawyer. To his credit, he didn't pester me. His office in Atlantic City was small, and fairly stark. When I came in, Tacker stood and reached over to shake my hand. [COLOR="Navy"]"I'm sorry, Joey. Your father was a good man." "It's all right. He lived a pretty rough life." [/COLOR] The lawyer studied me for a moment, the barest hint of a frown tugging at his mouth. [COLOR="Navy"]"You weren't exactly close, were you?"[/COLOR] [COLOR="Navy"]"No. I guess we weren't. I think its just because he came into my life so late."[/COLOR] [COLOR="Navy"]"Understandable. I suppose we should just cut to the marrow here. Your father's estate is worth about five hundred thousand dollars."[/COLOR] I stared at him, before he continued. [COLOR="Navy"]"Of course, that's mostly tied up in the physical inventory of his business. The trucks, buses, equipment and all."[/COLOR] [COLOR="Navy"]"Trucks? Buses...?"[/COLOR] I'd known he had a them, of course. I'd even thrown in on a couple shows with my father during and right after college so I could earn a bit of money. I'd made the college wrestling team and probably could have gone farther if my career plans hadn't diverged. [COLOR="Navy"]"Three Kenworths, and two Blue Birds. I think they're down in Florida at the moment. I... pardon me, but you look familiar. Have I seen you before?" "Do you listen to country?" "Yes, I... you were on that TV show. The competition one." "Yea, I lost in the third round." "Pity. You were pretty good." "Thanks. Um..."[/COLOR] I nodded towards the paperwork, eager to change the subject. [COLOR="Navy"]"Oh, of course."[/COLOR] We spent the next three hours finalizing the estate, and I walked out of the office feeling lost, and more than a bit sad. My father's life had been reduced to a pile of papers needing my signature. I also had majority ownership of a wrestling promotion that I wasn't sure I knew what to do with.

[Sagitta]

[B]Backstory, Part III[/B] Now that I was legally the new owner/operator of the promotion, I had to wait for it to roll back into New Jersey so I could meet the workers. If I'd known the full ramifications, I might have tried stopping some of the people at the funeral (hindsight being 20-20, I now realized a sizable chunk of the crowd had been Emil's employees). I had a list of names, but I wanted to meet them in person. I sent word that I'd meet them at the warehouse outside of Wildwood where my father kept the company based when they weren't touring. I spent a few hours going over the financials and the documents when I heard an air horn outside and the rumble from the motors of the big trucks. I stepped outside and stared as the first of three semis pulled in, followed by two old Blue Birds, and once again began wondering just exactly what I was getting myself in to. The trucks, while old, were painted a glossy black with [I]IWT PROMOTIONS, WILDWOOD, NEW JERSEY[/I] stenciled on the sides. The two Blue Birds were painted similarly, but had the full name of the company - [B]INTERSTATE WRESTLING TROUPE [/B]painted in white along the sides. Whoever the mechanic was, I had to give them credit as all the vehicles looked to be at least 20 years old or worse under the gloss. I leaned against the door to the warehouse, watching, as the buses unloaded, and the workers piled out. I noted that there were almost as many ladies as men in the group - something that had surprised me considering how small the company was. With a sigh I shoved away from the wall and walked over. It was time to meet the troops. [CENTER][IMG]http://calendrae.com/images/bigshield.png[/IMG][/CENTER]