4:40 am. Emergency tones are going off…. I roll over in bed to pick up my phone and hear from dispatch that we have a suspected appendicitis rupture… I’ve been on shift at my Firehall/Ambulance for almost 38 days straight. I’m Tired, I’m sore….. and all I can think about…… Is that I haven’t even started my debut wrestling column that’s due in 48rs. My Name is Dylon Featherstone, I’m a Paramedic/Firefighter. I’m your average white suburbanite slob….. I like cage fighting, porno, and books about war….. I’ve got an average house…… with a nice hardwood floor. However, sometimes that just ain’t enough to guy like me interested… (OH NO…. NO WAY… UH HUH!!!!)…… So in the shadows, I moonlight as a pro wrestler, and this my sad attempt at shedding some light on the balancing act of life in and out of spandex,
730am
Just got back to the hall from handing off our patient at the hospital….. I should be writing my Patient Care Report… I should be writing this column.. really, I should be doing a lot of things. The only thing on my mind is my next wrestling match in 12 days. In 12 days I have the rematch of my 2018 MOTY nominated bout with “Pride” (Author of “Gettin Heat). It was the most grueling, hard-hitting, and physically demanding match of my life. In 12 days I’ll be tasked with living up to the hype of surpassing that accomplishment. In 12 days I will have to be at peak physical conditioning to even hope to equal a previous herculean feat (Eats 7th deep fried Jalapeño cheese ball).
I’d love to say that I’ve been training hard, showcasing video montages of me swinging sledgehammers, shadow boxing, chasing chickens and other outdated “Rocky” references. But I’ve been busy putting in extra shifts at the hall (as I’m in line for a promotion, and need extra cross training for the position I could hypothetically be taking over).
Finding time to film and edit Online promo’s to promote the upcoming show? Good luck, when every time you push the record button, your siren goes off. Oh, trying to eat healthy to look a bit slimmer in your spandex… SORRY!!! You are now on a 6-hour ambulance transfer and the only thing open at 1 am is burger king (Damn do I love whoppers).
8 pm
After a 15.5 hour day, I have finally found time to work out. It is in these (hopefully) quiet hours of the evening that I visualize what’s in front of me. 12 days away isn’t some ordinary match, it’s not some throwaway bout on a Tuesday in a random hick town. This for all intents and purposes is mine and Pride’s last match. It is our swan song and a parting of ways. We have spent months circling one another in anticipation of our endgame. This match is bittersweet. First, we shall taste the sweetness of the applause. The crowd has shared this journey with us and they feel every chop, slam, punch and kick just as much as we do… with every near fall and dodged finishing move we bring them closer to that crescendo of the final 1….2……3
Now comes the bitter…Silence… the realization that this match we just wrestled was our Coup de grace. We painted our best work on that canvas and what we created together will hopefully leave us feeling proud and fulfilled. We will end this chapter, not with a “goodbye”… but hopefully, “See ya soon”
9:30 pm
Now I lay my head down to sleep and dream of being a spandex superhero. Dream about how in 12 more days I get to do the thing I love in that ring and entertain the fans who give me the opportunity to create my masterpiece one more time on the canvas. To shed the frail skin of Dylon Featherstone and don the visage (and badass vest) of “Mr. Saturday Night” Dylon Stone!!!!!
This is why I’m writing this column, I want to try to humanize and empathize you to the everyday struggle of finding that balance between being Bruce Wayne and Batman (Just with a lot less money… and a bit more philandering alcoholism). This is my pound of flesh, this is the lamb I lie at the altar. This is my “Blood from a Stone”.
