Tom Zenk	vs	Shane Douglas

It was like walking towards the ocean. Although it was only a dirty concrete floor beneath his boots and the harsh, unflattering glow of neon on his back, he waited behind the black curtain and couldn’t help but think the low, liquid roar of 1,500 fans was like the hiss of some anxious, expectant sea.

He leaned down to check that both kneepads were in place, ran a finger around the rim of his white tights and waited for the first bar of his entrance music. He was tempted to steal a peek into the darkened auditorium but held himself in check until the loudspeakers sparked into life with “Welcome to the Jungle”, the track he had chosen for his comeback. Tom Zenk straightened his back, took one deep breath and brushed the curtain aside, announcing his arrival into the ECW arena.

As he strode down the aisle Zenk couldn’t quite tell whether the pop of enthusiasm at his appearance was entirely supportive. It was his first time in front of this particular crowd and he was aware they were as likely to cheer for a hero as they were for a lamb they were expecting to be slaughtered.

Mounting the stairs two at a time he slid his muscular body through the ropes and stood in the center of the ring, raising his arms toward the roof and beaming at the crowd. At 39 his tanned, bulky form had filled out since his days as a champion body-builder, but his powerful limbs sturdy frame gave testament to his still-rigorous daily work-out.

As the crowd roared in recognition he flashed his trademark smile and turned 360 degrees to acknowledge every fan in the building. His white boots, tights and kneepads stood out against his darkly tanned skin, and after another moment in the spotlight he turned to watch the main door to the auditorium, waiting for his opponent.

Darkness fell quickly in the arena as spotlights zeroed in on the curtain which, in a burst of sound and light, burst open dramatically.  Into the light stepped Shane Douglas, swaggering toward the ring in a yellow tights and black boots.  A gold championship belt hung heavily around his waist and he hooked his  thumbs  on either side of it for emphasis. 

Douglas, too, had filled out since his apprentice days as a face, but now had found his niche in the ECW as a first-rate bullyboy and rule-breaker. He kicked his black boots out as he walked, barely acknowledging the crowd other than the occasional smug half-grin and shrug of his arm when a fan’s hand came too close.
 
Zenk waited for Douglas coolly in the ring. The two had been tag partners once, briefly, and Zenk still remembered the idealistic blond would-be-teacher who had once been his friend. But as Douglas
stepped through the ropes and paraded into the centre of the ring with his belt, holding it above his head for all to see, Zenk could see no trace of  the man he had once been.

A Douglas lackey removed the belt from the ring and the blond man shook his arms to limber up. Zenk approached him before the announcer had finished the introduction and fixed him with an even stare, which Douglas returned, while taking once step closer.

“I’m surprised you’re still in the business,” said Douglas through thin lips. “I thought good guys like you died out long ago.”

Zenk smiled. “You’ve gone a long way,” said Zenk quietly, as the ring announcement finished. “Down.”

Douglas spat out a spiteful laugh and looked at the tip of his black boots for an instant. “You know what?” he said, looking up again, “I’m gonna enjoy this.”

Before he had finished the last word he was on Zenk, stunning him with a powerful right fist to the face. Zenk was taken completely unaware and left himself open for a follow-up punch to the gut, which sent him staggering back into the ropes.

Zenk cursed himself  for an amateur as Douglas launched toward him with his boot, landing a kick to the softened stomach.

Zenk leaned forward under the force of the blow and Douglas came down hard with a chop to the back of his neck. Zenk was almost on his knees now, holding himself up only by gripping the top rope. Douglas grabbed a fistful of the dazed man’s hair and pulled him into the centre of the ring, putting all his weight behind Zenk’s neck and bulldogging his face hard into the canvas.

Zenk hit nose-first and curled up in pain. Douglas stood up behind as the other wrestler lay rolling on his back, clutching his face. The cocky blond raised one arm to acknowledge the cheers of the crowd before dropping a heavy elbow onto his exposed mid-section, winding the downed man.

Douglas again got to his feet as Zenk tried to crawl to the ring ropes.

Zenk was on all fours and reaching for safety as Douglas landed a boot  into his ribcage which dropped him again to the mat, his neck catching the bottom rope. Seeing his opportunity Douglas planted a kick into the back of Zenk’s head and crouched over the former body-builder’s shoulders, grabbing hold of the lowest rope and heaving it up. Zenk’s arms and legs started flailing wildly as Douglas increased the pressure on his throat and sat his weight on the man’s shoulders, forcing the last air out of his lungs.

The ref tried fruitlessly to get Douglas to break the hold as Zenk suffered for five, ten, fifteen seconds. Finally, just as it seemed Zenk would pass out, Douglas dropped the rope and got up. His grin spread from ear to ear and he raised both arms to acknowledge the crowd as he walked a full circle around the ring, keeping one eye on the exhausted Zenk who was lying almost motionless at the side of the ring.

After show-boating for almost a minute, Douglas slid out of the ring and walked around to where Zenk’s head was closest to the apron. He pulled Zenk’s head out until it overhung the ring by three inches, collected a folding chair from nearby and landed it onto the man’s skull with all his strength. Zenk’s whole body rocked with the blow and his hands instinctively reached up to protect his head. He pulled himself back into the ring for safety and the force of the impact seemed to shock oxygen back into his system. Outside the ring, Douglas was euphoric. He threw the chair over the ropes and paused for another minute, soaking up the response of the crowd. Inside the ring Zenk was desperately trying to distance himself from the chair and haul himself up by the corner turnbuckle.

Douglas finally finished with the crowd and slid back into the ring to collect his chair. Zenk was still in bad shape, having barely made it to the corner his arms were hanging limply over the top ropes and
he leaned his weight heavily onto the top turnbuckle for support.

Sensing victory and grinning, Douglas took up the chair and approached him.“Say good-night, pretty boy,” he said, raising the chair above his head.
 
Zenk’s eyes were almost closed and he looked dimly at the blurry shape in front of him as the chair swooped towards him one more time. But at the last moment Zenk let go of the ropes that were holding him up and dropped heavily to the canvas, his head lolling on the middle rope for support. The chair pounded the top turnbuckle, where Zenk’s defenseless skull had been less than a second before, and bounced back swiftly, nailing Douglas in the forehead.

An almighty clang rang through the building and Douglas’ knees gave way from under him. The chair clattered to the mat in front of him and then, like a felled Redwood, Douglas collapsed backwards.

Zenk was in bad shape but he knew this was his chance. Hauling himself up by the ropes he tried desperately to clear his head as he kept one eye on the fallen Douglas. His adversary was still on his back on the mat, insensible from the blow. Drawing on the last of his will-power Zenk launched himself toward Douglas, connecting with an elbow to the man’s chin. Zenk landed heavily next to his stunned opponent and the two lay side-by-side for a moment, each one smarting from his injuries.

Douglas registered the blow with a yell, but Zenk knew he had a long  way to go before he got on top of the match. Slowly, each man tried to get to his feet.

Through the ringing in his head, Zenk slowly became aware of the roar of the crowd. Through blurred vision he looked into the auditorium and thought he could make out people cheering for him, willing him to get to his feet. As he rested his weary body on the top rope he made eye contact with the fans in the first row, who were screaming at him.

“Behind you,” they seemed to be saying, “watch out behind you.”

At the last moment Zenk ducked, and Douglas sailed over his shoulders, out of the ring. The big blond man hit heavily on the concrete floor and rolled until he hit the metal railing, coming to rest face up. The narrow escape seemed to clear Zenk’s head and he drew himself up, looking at Douglas’ battered body below him.

Climbing up to the top rope, Zenk formed his arms into a double axe handle and jumped. Douglas had his hands on top of the railing, trying to get up — but Zenk connected in the middle of his shoulder-blades, sending him hard into the metal bars.

Douglas was doubled over the top of the railing now, helpless. Zenk had landed well, and stood above his opponent considering his next move. A fair-player by nature, Zenk knew he would never succeed in the ECW without a little extra viciousness, yet something still seemed to be holding him back.

At last he settled on hauling Douglas up by his hair, picking him up and slamming him on the concrete floor. Zenk figured a little rough-housing outside the ring would be alright, before finishing the match properly inside the ropes.

Douglas hit the floor square on his back and yelled in pain. Zenk again grabbed him by his hair and hauled him up, preparing to send him back into the ring. But when Douglas was on his knees he balled up his fist and landed a punch into Zenk’s crotch, sending the big man straight to the floor.  Zenk didn’t know what had hit him. One moment he was in control, the next minute he was doubled over in pain on the dirty ground.

His eyes were filled with tears of pain and he was aware of himself being grabbed by the back of the neck, and thrown forward — the next thing he knew, his face had connected with the outside ring post and he was bouncing backwards.

As Zenk landed on his back Douglas seized his chance to inflict some damage. The ECW veteran landed a few stomps on Zenk’s gut and chest to loosen him up, before going to work with his boot on the bigger man’s face and head. Zenk tried get cover with his arms, but Douglas couldn’t be stopped — landing boots into his opponent’s ribs, back and legs.

Groggily, Zenk felt himself being picked up for a slam. The big man hit the ground once, and then was scooped up again. He prepared himself for a second trip to the concrete, but Douglas shifted his weight and trapped him in an over-the-shoulder back-breaker.

As Douglas adjusted his grip over Zenk’s chin the trapped man tried to yell, but he couldn’t. His vertebrae were being stretched at the same time as the air was being forced out of his lungs, and all that came out was a rough, dry rasp.

Douglas cranked up the pressure on Zenk while displaying him to the crowd. Just when it seemed the former body-builder’s own weight would break him in two, Douglas approached the ring and dumped his victim heavily back under the bottom rope. Climbing in after him, Douglas picked up the flattened chair that was already in the ring and dragged Zenk towards it. He was setting Zenk up for a pile-driver.

Zenk was already tasting blood in his mouth as he was dragged towards the center of the ring. Suddenly he was hauled to his feet, and he felt Douglas’s thighs close around his ears and the other man’s arms reach around his waist. Zenk could see the chair immediately below him, and feel the strain against his skin as Douglas started to lift.  Zenk’s boots left the canvas for an inch — and came back down.

In his befuddled state, Zenk could feel Douglas take a deep breath.  Once more Douglas tried to lift, and again Zenk came back down. Sweat was dripping from Zenk’s forehead. In one last desperate move he grabbed Douglas’ tights and heaved his adversary up. Douglas was taken off guard and surprise spread across his face as he felt his body being lifted off the canvas.

Though badly weakened,  Zenk staggered forward, dumping Douglas clumsily, crotch-first onto the top rope. The blond wrestler let out a yell as he collided with the plastic-covered chain.  Zenk took two uneven steps backwards, attempting to clear his head. He had to put some space between himself and Douglas. But when Zenk opened his blinking eyes he saw Douglas, still where he had left him, riding the top rope, paralysed with pain.

Zenk saw his opportunity. He grabbed the tope rope and bounced the hapless Douglas once, twice, three times .... finally allowing Douglas to topple helplessly into ring.  As the blonde wrestler climbed unsteadily to his feet, his knees locked, his face contorted in pain, Zenk grabbed Douglas’ tights  and flipped him backwards, sending him flying into the centre of the ring. Flashbulbs froze Douglas in mid-air, for an instant, before he hit the mat hard, his head colliding with the metal chair. 

Douglas’ neck crumpled with the impact. The blond wrestler lay sprawled on his back, arms flat on either side as if he were being crucified. Too addled to think, Zenk dropped immediately on Douglas’ chest, and extended his legs over the downed man’s shoulders, landing two quick heels into his forehead to keep him down.

In an instant the ref had flattened himself to the canvas, and was slamming his hand against the mat. There was a roar from the crowd, and Zenk got himself to his feet uncertainly, dimly aware of Douglas rolling away beneath him. Then the referee was holding Zenk’s arm in the air, proclaiming him the winner.

Zenk blinked into the glare and flashbulbs of the crowd. As he fought to clear his head he was aware of isolated voices in the arena beginning to chant his name. As he stood there in the ring, one arm still raised, the chant got louder.

“Zenk, Zenk!” they were saying, “Zenk, Zenk!”

He turned and saw Shane Douglas, his former tag-team partner, still sprawled unconscious near the chair. Zenk kneeled down by the man and slapped him roughly, twice on each cheek, until he saw Douglas’ eyelids begin to flutter.

“You know,” said Zenk into the crescents of white eyeball that barely opened on Douglas’ face, “I think I could get to like this.”

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