It was a time long ago.
Drugs were rampant in the wrestling business. It wasn't all about the looks. Women were respected wrestlers that wore more than three square inches of clothing. Championships weren't won or lost based on how popular a character was. Storylines made sense. It was rare that a top contender had a six-pack of abs. Instead, the precursors were spare tires and jello thighs.
It was a time long ago when wrestling mattered.
Evan Bourne sighed, turning off the television. Inside his DVD player, he was watching old Ric Flair matches.
Evan shuddered at the thought that he'd never be the man because he would never beat the man.
He would never be booked to beat the man.
Mat wrestling died when Vince McMahon took over. Instead of working the classic business, he turned it into an entertainment industry. The fans didn't care about the athleticism. They only wanted to see high spots and trashy women.
And Evan Bourne because fodder for Vince McMahon: a talented wrestler with all the ability in the world but would never really become a champion.
Wrestling didn't matter anymore. Unless you had a child friendly gimmick or had familial connections, you were screwed. Guys like Jeff Hardy, John Cena, Triple H, and Matt Hardy soared to the top without an ounce of true wrestling talent while guys like Edge, Shelton Benjamin, and John Morrison were buried more than the rhetorical six feet under.
So when they asked Evan Bourne what kind of gimmick he was comfortable working with, he said he wanted to be a good role model for children instead of the insane Ring of Honor prodigy he once was.
They offered putting him with Jeff Hardy after Matt's heel turn, and Evan thanked god every single day that it didn't happen. He would clearly be shunned behind the younger Hardy brother, maybe only getting in a Shooting Star Press to set up Jeff's Swanton Bomb.
So they moved him to RAW. A dream come true, right? Wrong. He was somewhat of a star on ECW. He was one of the biggest names on the show until they traded him to the A-show underneath the boring promos and lackluster wrestling ability of John Cena. Evan's gimmick didn't matter—it already belonged to Cena. Kofi was the resident high flyer. Cody and Ted were the young heartthrobs.
Evan Bourne was the new resident jobber.
What's the point of living your dream when you are unhappy with your job?
There is no point, no point at all.
Sure, the money was great, but where's the love? That's what the real wrestling business is about, now grown men trying to adjust each other's attitudes.
But he was so far ahead of so many of the other wrestlers that he knew.
And what's the best thing to do when you're ahead?