The Ivy League: Ninja Vanish
Reported on Tuesday, April 17 2007
He didn't want to go out to be a Lumberjack, you know. Extracurriculars after the match were exactly what he didn't want. After all, Joey had made a big enough deal about how long retirement was teased. Despite the fact that Ultratitle Season 2 was always the ending point, it still took over two years to consummate and therefore, the word 'tease' was probably more accurate than he wanted.
Going back further, he didn't want to wrestle Dan Ryan in a street fight at Night Two, and he certainly didn't want to talk at the fans at Night One.
Truth be told, every single instance of Eli Flair being in the backstage area of an arena for a professional wrestling show since March 15th, 2007 has been under protest. He's the Professional Wrestling Ninja, after all. Start his career in a gym in the Bronx, end it with a match for the NFW West Ultratitle Finals, lose to Nova, and walk out the door with his head held high. Honestly, he didn't want anyone to notice. Honestly, I think he was surprised that people did.
Everything after that point is my fault, Dan's fault, and Craig's fault. I booked him for a mic spot. Ryan surprised him with a challange, and Craig convinced him with a lumberjack. And he suffered us all like a trooper. He knew the fans would want to hear him say goodbye for real, he assumed the fans would be disappointed if Ryan laid out a challenge that went unanswered, and he was actually thrilled to be able to be out at ringside for Nova's triumph.
"To whatever end," we said to Miles two years ago. The end turned out to be Lumberjacking for the Ultratitle finals.
After thirteen years of putting the fans and the company first, what changed for Eli Flair's final forty eight hours in the business? Nothing.
I'd like to think he meant a little bit more to the sport than the ninja, whose contributions were never directly noticed, whose matches were constantly the third - from - the - top backbone on which a card was built, and whose efforts between the ropes always made his opponent look good. I'd like to think that, in this era of superstars and egos, there's still room for someone who worked quietly, efficiently, and effectively.
I'd like to think Eli Flair's legacy will count for more than losing to Nova in the finals of the Western Division Ultratitle.
When Season Two began, the West was referred to as The Secret Bastion of the Last Gunslingers. Eli and I both loved and hated that phrase. The Last Gunslingers of the old guard may be accurate - the hatred, the competition, the egos, and the rivalries that threaded the NFW West when the season began were the stuff of legend for more than a decade. Hell, we even had a GUNS sighting out of it. But the Last Gunslingers discount far too many of the younger kids who are that good - one has to look at Nova for all the proof needed.
By all rights, Team Extreme shouldn't have broken like it did. By all rights, Team Extreme shouldn't have gone as far as it did. What started out as a tag team name became a banner for the alternative fans to carry. What started out as an easier way to refer to "Flair and McGinnis" became the Rat Pack. Became the Alliance of Defiance. Became more than the sum of its parts.
At the same token, I don't think anyone at the beginning could have guessed the end. After our first night on the road together, we got drunk with Benson, Miles, and Collins. We were young, we were angry at the world for a variety of reasons, and we had nothing to lose.
Eli Flair was a big, talented hardcore wrestler with zero experience at playing politics, and he became a champion fourteen times over. I was a chick manager in the era of Perv Pics and Silicon Queens, and I ran the bloody Fans Wrestling Organization, both unofficially and officially. These things don't happen to people that are merely talented, or the people that are just good at their job. These things happened to us.
Team Extreme itself, grew to include Angela Flair, Mariella Flair, Sean Stevens and Shannon Stevens. It grew to include Lance Knight and Joey Melton and Lindsay Troy.It grew to include the most talented band on the road today and the most talented kids who have never wrestled a professional match. Extreme faith. The Equalizers. It touched Extreme Faith, and the Professional Heel Academy. It touched people who worked just as hard as the wrestlers did, on lights, sound, and construction.
Mike Randalls trusted us. Terry Nodar trusted us. Merritt and Thomas asked us for advice.
None of it, however, would've happened if we weren't there for each other.
That's the thing that got me, every time. I was popular. Eli was popular. The fans loved to see us go at it, but they loved to see us on the same side even more. Maybe they saw something in this family that resonated with them - that people working together can always do more than people working apart. Maybe that's why the future in this business for me is going to suck without my hetero lifemate watching my back, and me watching his.
Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe the point is that the fans saw.
That's the legacy. That's the mark.
"We were here, and we mattered."
This is Ivy.
And this is the end.
