Sometimes an adult asks a child what he wants to be when he grows up, and most times (usually after a prolonged “uhmmm”), the answer will be something along the lines of “fireman” or “scientist”, yet, even during the unfocused period when I still considered Play Doh to be a healthy snack, I would have told you without hesitation that my whole goal in life is to grow up and be just like my grandfather, whom I lovingly refer to as Papa. For clarification, I stopped eating Play Doh when I was five.

The really incredible thing about Papa is that he can enter a room, and automatically, there’s a mad rush to speak with him. He’s always sure to spend a decent amount of time talking with every person; it’s never just chitchat, it’s a warm, empathetic, caring conversation that he upholds, regardless of topic matter. When you speak with him, you quite simply become his favorite being on the planet, though this does create quite a dispute – everyone claims that they’re the favorite. In truth, however, they’re wrong. I’m really the favorite. But don’t tell anyone.

The reason he’s been so influential is that there have been many inconsistencies in my life, and he’s always remained static. In my search for a role model, for someone to relate to, the only man who’s been there, unquestionably, one hundred percent of the time has been Papa.

To me, there’s little more exhilarating than a good night of professional wrestling. I understand, it’s difficult seeing it as anything more than a fixed bout between two B-Grade actors, but once you look past that to the event itself, it turns out it has its redeeming values.

It’s unfair to compare wrestlers to thespians and athletes involved in more… legitimate sports, they aren’t and never have claimed to be either, but rather, a conglomeration of the two.

The best grapplers in the business are passionately obsessed with the industry and are willing to do nearly anything to become established. Keeping the audience entertained is the ultimate goal. One way is through barbaric self-mutilation, brutalizing one another with bats, barbed-wire, and tables. The other method is the most desirable, and that is simply putting on a great match. Matches are intriguing things. They are, of course, one hundred percent choreographed – but this is a dance where you throw your partner onto his head. The truly brilliant part of that concept is that, like a dance, your job is to ensure your partner is moving just as safely as he is fluidly. These two men who are “horrendously decimating” one another are, in actuality, intimate partners. As if this weren’t enough stress, there’s an added stipulation; the “annihilation” must look believable.

Matches are presented in a story format, adding a dramatic flair. Wrestlers are given characters and personalities to develop and maintain crowd attention. A well-written story will intertwine characters battling over something important – honor, a championship, to exhibit skill, or merely to end a grudge.

The wrestling ring is a showcase of super heroes. It is a testimony to perdurable behemoths that are able to take inhuman pain and suffering and conquer all, regardless of the odds. It is an incredible work of physical art and human ability. Is it entertainment for rednecks? Sure. But that doesn’t mean you can’t watch it, too.

In this confused modern world, it is often difficult to find a genuinely impressive personality. Fortunately, I exist. You see, I possess a massive arsenal of incredible attributes that make even the most skilled Renaissance Man look like Charlie Brown.

My writing for the school newspaper is unanimously celebrated, regardless of topic or length. My popularity is overwhelming – just the other day, I took a photograph with three idealistic freshmen that had recently tattooed my likeness upon their foreheads. My sense of humor is notorious, particularly exhibited in the cartoons I manufacture (also for the paper), which have already become legendary, regardless of the fact that they are still regularly produced. My brilliance is boundless and incomparable, perhaps best seen in my multiple literary works (which I generate on an extracurricular basis). I have often been hailed as “Mr. Cooper City High School”, and enjoyed a highly productive year as Junior Class President. Due to my suave demeanor, dashing appearance, and ruggedly cut physique, it was little surprise that I landed the lead role of “Sky Masterson” in the recent school production of Guys & Dolls.

These are, however, mere pittances compared to my one, most obvious, yet most significant characteristic – my humility.