Post by Skyler Striker on Mar 4, 2007 22:25:45 GMT -5
Looking back on Jack of Blades and Ace Resoland in particular, I, Skyler Striker, have seen the value of keeping one’s own beginnings in mind. Therefore, in the same manner as Jack and Ace, I have decided to write of my past, how I came to wrestling, and why I am Skyler Striker. These are the Origins.
I was born into an average family on the Gold Coast in Queensland, Australia. Australia is immensely different to any other country in the world – it has extremely strange weather, a cultural language that would take you years to truly learn, and the Australian values of mateship and hard work. Wrestling is not prominent in Australia – cricket, AFL, a lot of team games. But wrestling was not big when I was born. My parents raised me well. My mother was a housewife, my father was a professional surfer. The Gold Coast was big on surfing for obvious reasons. I lived a normal existence, to say the least. I entered a private school - Midland Christian. I went there for two years without a friend. Although my dad was famous, the other kids saw nothing in me and if they ever talked to me, it was only about dad. I grew sick of it after a while.
Two years passed and I entered grade three. This is when things turned around. Jayden Sarek and Dylan Ryder switched schools from somewhere near Cairns and we instantly hit it off. The three of us were inseparable and have been ever since. We played at each other’s houses after school, took swimming lessons together, and played our sports together as well. All three of us were also very musical – we still have a band today.
Dylan was always very quiet. He never spoke and doesn’t speak now unless he thinks it necessary. He said to me once that ‘words are never necessary unless you have communication problems’. I was almost afraid to speak after then. Of the three sports we played – cricket, Aussie rules and soccer – Dylan was the best at cricket. He was also an expert drummer, although we didn’t know until later on in school. He never seemed like a drummer, however – he had a personality like Cliff Burton of Metallica – laid back but incredibly smart. He was the best at schoolwork, too, although Jayden and I never really cared for it. Dylan went on being quiet and whenever he voiced an opinion, people were sure to listen. A good technique, now that I think of it. Perhaps I should speak less to Jade.
Jayden was a polar opposite of Dylan. He was wild, outgoing, and incredibly, incredibly loud. He was always riding around town, whether it be with skateboard, bike or rollerblades. He was also a risk taker. Combine that with the riding thing and you can see why Jayden’s medical injury list is so extensive. He’s had three broken noses, one break on each arm, two breaks on one leg and a fracture on the other. Dylan and I were always amazed that his parents didn’t kill him from the medical bills. Then we found out his parents were rich. We didn’t see them much – they were always out of town, his father on business work and his mother on travel conferences, as Jayden said she was a travel agent. Jayden spent a lot of time at my house either way, as did Dylan. Jay was a guitarist and took pride in being the best AFL player. He also tended to get a bit outspoken at times and was often grounded when his parents were nearby. Dylan and I always thought that hilarious.
We went through all of year three together and went to year four – where we met Andrew Timms and Scott Southland. From then out, everything changed.
Andrew was very big, even for his age. He was a year older than all of us but had been held back in pre-primary. He never told us why. He wasn’t particularly loud, but he spoke with authority, and made house captain in year seven when we got there. His clothes were usually too small, which was our main source of making fun of him. When he said stop, though, we stopped. Andrew’s life was hard – his father had died of a rare blood disease that they thought might have passed on to him, and he was very paranoid at one point, but we managed to get him through it. He had dark black hair and a large figure, and it was great to take him round to the other kids in our year and show that he could break drumsticks (usually one’s we’d stolen from Dylan) in half with just his knees and hands.
Scott, on the other hand, was small, and had just come overseas from England. He had a high-pitched voice and could sing really well until his voice broke in high school. He got a couple weeks hassle over that and then we forgot about it. Scott was the one who introduced us to wrestling – England had wrestling at that point and Scott’s father was a referee for a smaller promotion. He brought over videotapes that we watched night and day, like a religion. We loved him after that and the five of us grew all the way through year seven without problems. No-one came in or out of the group and one day we got word from someone that the teachers had made a joke about us, calling us ‘Index 5’ – because we followed each other, apparently, although we didn’t know what the full joke was at the time and still didn’t afterwards. After that, around the school, community and local parks, we weren’t Andrew, Dylan, Jayden, Skyler and Scott. We were Index 5.
One day in year seven, Scott’s dad managed to hook up a cable station and we were able to watch our first live wrestling show. We watched it thoroughly and Scott’s dad suggested we go down to a local store that had a regular magazine. We all chipped in with our pocket money and bought the magazine, which was some lowball copy of PWI. We thought it was the best thing anyone had ever written (except Dylan, who continuously tried to prove that ‘Othello’ by Shakespeare was the best thing anyone had ever written) and Andrew, Dylan, Jayden, Scott and I all made a promise on that day – that we would one day join a wrestling promotion and all wrestle together. We did our whole secret handshake deal and went our separate ways. I laid in bed that night, thinking of what I could become. My father came in to tuck me in and I told him of my ambition to one day become a wrestler. He laughed in my face. Openly. There was no humouring me – he was spitting on my dreams. I refused to talk to him again after that. From then until the day he died, I never spoke to him. Which was a whole 48 hours.
I was born into an average family on the Gold Coast in Queensland, Australia. Australia is immensely different to any other country in the world – it has extremely strange weather, a cultural language that would take you years to truly learn, and the Australian values of mateship and hard work. Wrestling is not prominent in Australia – cricket, AFL, a lot of team games. But wrestling was not big when I was born. My parents raised me well. My mother was a housewife, my father was a professional surfer. The Gold Coast was big on surfing for obvious reasons. I lived a normal existence, to say the least. I entered a private school - Midland Christian. I went there for two years without a friend. Although my dad was famous, the other kids saw nothing in me and if they ever talked to me, it was only about dad. I grew sick of it after a while.
Two years passed and I entered grade three. This is when things turned around. Jayden Sarek and Dylan Ryder switched schools from somewhere near Cairns and we instantly hit it off. The three of us were inseparable and have been ever since. We played at each other’s houses after school, took swimming lessons together, and played our sports together as well. All three of us were also very musical – we still have a band today.
Dylan was always very quiet. He never spoke and doesn’t speak now unless he thinks it necessary. He said to me once that ‘words are never necessary unless you have communication problems’. I was almost afraid to speak after then. Of the three sports we played – cricket, Aussie rules and soccer – Dylan was the best at cricket. He was also an expert drummer, although we didn’t know until later on in school. He never seemed like a drummer, however – he had a personality like Cliff Burton of Metallica – laid back but incredibly smart. He was the best at schoolwork, too, although Jayden and I never really cared for it. Dylan went on being quiet and whenever he voiced an opinion, people were sure to listen. A good technique, now that I think of it. Perhaps I should speak less to Jade.
Jayden was a polar opposite of Dylan. He was wild, outgoing, and incredibly, incredibly loud. He was always riding around town, whether it be with skateboard, bike or rollerblades. He was also a risk taker. Combine that with the riding thing and you can see why Jayden’s medical injury list is so extensive. He’s had three broken noses, one break on each arm, two breaks on one leg and a fracture on the other. Dylan and I were always amazed that his parents didn’t kill him from the medical bills. Then we found out his parents were rich. We didn’t see them much – they were always out of town, his father on business work and his mother on travel conferences, as Jayden said she was a travel agent. Jayden spent a lot of time at my house either way, as did Dylan. Jay was a guitarist and took pride in being the best AFL player. He also tended to get a bit outspoken at times and was often grounded when his parents were nearby. Dylan and I always thought that hilarious.
We went through all of year three together and went to year four – where we met Andrew Timms and Scott Southland. From then out, everything changed.
Andrew was very big, even for his age. He was a year older than all of us but had been held back in pre-primary. He never told us why. He wasn’t particularly loud, but he spoke with authority, and made house captain in year seven when we got there. His clothes were usually too small, which was our main source of making fun of him. When he said stop, though, we stopped. Andrew’s life was hard – his father had died of a rare blood disease that they thought might have passed on to him, and he was very paranoid at one point, but we managed to get him through it. He had dark black hair and a large figure, and it was great to take him round to the other kids in our year and show that he could break drumsticks (usually one’s we’d stolen from Dylan) in half with just his knees and hands.
Scott, on the other hand, was small, and had just come overseas from England. He had a high-pitched voice and could sing really well until his voice broke in high school. He got a couple weeks hassle over that and then we forgot about it. Scott was the one who introduced us to wrestling – England had wrestling at that point and Scott’s father was a referee for a smaller promotion. He brought over videotapes that we watched night and day, like a religion. We loved him after that and the five of us grew all the way through year seven without problems. No-one came in or out of the group and one day we got word from someone that the teachers had made a joke about us, calling us ‘Index 5’ – because we followed each other, apparently, although we didn’t know what the full joke was at the time and still didn’t afterwards. After that, around the school, community and local parks, we weren’t Andrew, Dylan, Jayden, Skyler and Scott. We were Index 5.
One day in year seven, Scott’s dad managed to hook up a cable station and we were able to watch our first live wrestling show. We watched it thoroughly and Scott’s dad suggested we go down to a local store that had a regular magazine. We all chipped in with our pocket money and bought the magazine, which was some lowball copy of PWI. We thought it was the best thing anyone had ever written (except Dylan, who continuously tried to prove that ‘Othello’ by Shakespeare was the best thing anyone had ever written) and Andrew, Dylan, Jayden, Scott and I all made a promise on that day – that we would one day join a wrestling promotion and all wrestle together. We did our whole secret handshake deal and went our separate ways. I laid in bed that night, thinking of what I could become. My father came in to tuck me in and I told him of my ambition to one day become a wrestler. He laughed in my face. Openly. There was no humouring me – he was spitting on my dreams. I refused to talk to him again after that. From then until the day he died, I never spoke to him. Which was a whole 48 hours.
