I know that the world doesn’t want me to succeed. They’d rather just sit back and laugh at the attempts of an athlete that gives it his all… only to fall short at the final hurdle. It’s human nature to belittle the efforts of others. You love it. Your postman loves it. Dominic Pericolo loves it.

I find myself asking what actually constitutes as ‘not succeeding’. Failure, perhaps? But then, when does failure occur?

In my eyes, the only way that a man can ever fail is by throwing the towel in and accepting defeat. Those that simply stop and embrace failure should rightfully be branded losers.

When I’ve thrown my last hip toss, taken my final drop kick and laced my tights up for the final time, I won’t be remembered as a loser, failure or any other term that carries negativity with it. I’m too good for that. However, currently, I’m struggling to find my niche. I can’t quite find my place in the sun. Rest assured though…

It is waiting for me.

If you want to laugh at a loser, then look no further than the French, the Germans and Travis Miller. They’re just three examples of what happens to a nation or an individual after they embrace failure and accept it with open arms. You’re either conquered or forgotten.

And Chris Champion will never be forgotten.

End tape.

“Are you talking to yourself, Chris?” inquired a voice from the kitchen.

“Erm…no, Bob,” I mumbled, before slipping the recording device under the couch. “Is that tea ready yet? I could really use a cup.”

It wasn’t that I was particularly ashamed of taping myself for motivational purposes, but I certainly didn’t feel comfortable with everyone knowing I was having problems psyching myself up. When you’re a professional wrestler, the worst thing that can happen to you is for you to wake up one morning and find that you’ve lost your drive.

It’s just about the equivalent of taking Jesus away from the Church. They can’t live without their Messiah. I can’t wrestle without motivation.

And that’s when it hit me. The past few weeks would have been almost unbearable given the win/loss ratio I’d carried had it not been for one thing…

A smile.

Smoothly, I leaned back and curled my back into the crevices of the living room couch, cocked my head backward and looked towards the ceiling. Bob muttered something about how many sugars I wanted with my drink, but it didn’t matter.

I just continued to smile silently.

“I owe Shawn Collins a lot now that I think about it.”

Start tape.

If all else fails, then at least you and Collins could try your hand as a comedy duo.

End tape.