Ramblings...

I'll never take credit for training Punk, as that honor belongs to Ace, Danny, and Quinn, but it doesn't make me any less proud of him for what he's done and what he most assuredly is going to do.

I remember the first time I met CM Punk. It was probably around 1997 or 8, and I was still training at the Pro Wrestling International camp at Lawrence and Broadway in Chicago under the tutelage of the great Sonny Rogers. A group of kids came in (I say kids, but I was probably only 18 at the time) to inquire about training. They were a group from the LWF, a backyard-but-with-a-ring promotion, and among them came a pudgy kid, complete with bad tattoos and dyed blond hair. He stood about because I remember that he introduced himself to me as Phil when the rest of the tards shook hands and gave off some stupid worked name. The day ended and I went home.

Fast forward. Ace Steel and Danny Dominion started the Steel Domain camp as more of a finishing school for guys that were floundering. I was one of those guys. In fact I think myself, along with Adrian Lynch, could be considered the first "students" of the Domain. One day in walks the same kid, once again looking for training. He was more athletic looking, maybe a little slimmer than before, and hungry. He signed up and away he went. He was a natural, and I, being a guy that the old timers always referred to as a natural, could plainly see it. We hit it off. We are nearly the same age, and straight away it was apparent that we were cut from a similar, if not the same, cloth. He’s was a prick – still is, I’m was a prick – still am. That simple.

And he loved the business. He absorbed it all. Whether it was Danny and Ace running us through drills, Cabana wanting to learn goofy shit, Quinn stretching us (I always tried to avoid those days), making fun of Brad, or anything else, he took it in. He was one of the boys. At that time, we (Danny, Ace, and I) were going up to Minneapolis every month, and after a while, we decided that it was time for Punk and Cabana to get a shot up there in front of a new crowd. They’d been working for Carmine and whoever else, and were doing great. It wasn’t long before they started to blow up and work everywhere. They complimented each other well in their matches, and people began to take notice. After these two idiots suplexed each other off of a Mountain Dew machine in St. Paul I wanted to kill them, but I can’t help but admit that I was smiling inside. They got it.

Punk was always the heel, and he excelled. I like to imagine that he may have gotten some of his schtick as a heel at that point from watching and listening to me, but that’s just wishful thinking. The point is that he worked the right way, added to the shows, and most importantly respected the boys and the business, and I chose him to send me away from the Midwest for that reason. I don’t know that our match for Carmine’s MAW had the emotion that the upcoming ROH match is sure to have, although who knows. Three chair shots and a pinfall later, and I was gone from the Midwest. And I wouldn’t have done it any different. Maybe I’m a mark for saying it, but in my mind anyway, it was kind of like I was handing the torch off to Punk. Although, come to think of it, he may have actually taken it from me far before that. By the way, Punk, you’re welcome for the finisher. Asshole.

I’ll concede that I wasn’t as close to the guys once I moved to California, but I followed them via tapes and the net, and I remember being so proud and so jealous at the same time. Punk would IM me and say, “I just worked with Steamboat, can you believe this shit?” I’d reply, “I know. Fuck you, I hate you.” He was taking off, and I loved it. I was as big a fan of him as anyone else. I’d seen him grow. It’s weird but I can almost understand the love a parent has for a kid. Of course wrestling isn’t that fucking deep, but you get the point. Now he’s off to New York, and I’m finally coming into ROH.

I am very excited for my good fortune, and I know that I owe some of it to Punk, Cabana, Ace, Joe, and Daniels among others, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I’d sure love it even that much more if Punk was going to be around. Working for FIP with him and Prazak, Ace, and Joe was like old times. It felt good. It felt great. It felt right. If for some reason I never work another match, know that those two shows in Florida were perfect for me. Thanks to Gabe for making that happen.

To Punk and Cabana, no good luck wishes are needed. You assholes have been doing it together since day one, and I know that you’ll do it just like old times. Especially at home. Just like old times. I wish I could be there with you.

To Punk, I know you’ll get exactly what you want from this business, and I know that you’ll give 110% back. I can only hope that those that matter in New York will see you for what you are, and that is a true credit to a clouded business, and a breath of real and fresh air in a shit-stench wrestling atmosphere. And I hope that I live up to your expectations in ROH and do you as proud as you’ve done me. I won’t be a replacement for CM Punk, and thank God I don’t have to be, or quite frankly, I’d be fucked.

Love ya kid.