Greetings, those who love an adore me. I’m looking at you, Jerryatrics. How are ya? Ya good? That’s great. No, really, it is. I’ve noticed nobody’s risen up against upper management in my defense for the way they’re treating this column, but ya know, that’s fine. No really, don’t worry about it. Maybe they’ll see reason this time, and give my work the respect it deserves. Maybe even a place of honor somewhere. Like, on the very top of skyfallwrestling.com. Yeah. That’d work. Until then, I will take heart in knowing that you Jerryatrics will seek this column until you find it, no matter where it is. And why? Because you love it, and you love me. Thank you, Jerryatrics. I love you too.

Now, I’m feeling kind of reflective whilst I write this, so I’m gonna do something I almost never do. I’m gonna talk about myself. That’s right. I could discuss the torture that is the SWA’s group of “loving couples,” I could discuss the inexplicable returns of certain individuals during a dark time in the SWA, I could even discuss Bob Macatire, and his total lack of any social skills. Instead, though, I’ll discuss me.

I wonder, do any of you know where I got started? I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned it here. The first thing I ever commentated for, you see, was a pie-eating contest in my hometown. Let me tell ya, that’s a whole lotta fat guys. Anyway, not only did I have fun, but I met with general approval from the crowd, and those in management of the contest. (My first Jerryatrics, people). They had me do a few more local events after that. Well, they really only had me do one, but then the press got involved. Specifically, my colorful commentary became a fantastic news story for them, and before you know it I had job offers all over the place. Horse races, little-league games, even MC opportunities. It was great fun, and I knew I had to pursue it as a career. I knew I had found my calling.

What I didn’t know at the time was that I had already met the man I’d be working with professionally for so many years. That’s right, Bob Macatire was actually my co-commentator for the very same pie-eating contest I started in. He was boring as ever, but did his job, giving the facts, the facts, and only the facts, while I speculated on when the contestants would get a job offer from Goodyear. I dismissed him as inconsequential then, someone who was certainly no threat to my rising stardom. I kept working, ending up in the media for a while as a sportscaster. I always liked wrestling though, and when I heard there was a new company on the horizon with plans to make it big, a cozy little place called the SWA, I applied.

Ah, you should’ve been there. I was all smiles during my interview. Made both Brandon and Crystal laugh on more than one occasion. I was a shoe-in, and made color commentator on the spot. I was actually just stepping out of the interview room when Bob saw me. Of course, I didn’t recognize him, having ordered my brain to delete his face, but he certainly recognized me, and it all came flooding back as he recounted where we had met. I was all ready to dismiss him again when he announced that we were going to be partners. And that’s why the day I was hired by the SWA was both the best, and the worst day of my life.

Alright, I kid. Bob’s not all that bad once ya get to know him. But ya gotta rip on the guy every now and then. It’s good for him. Most of the time he doesn’t fight back, but I’m working on that, and he is getting better. Maybe someday he’ll realize I’m doing all of it for his own good. Nah.

So that’s my story, Jerryatrics. A story that, perhaps, should’ve been told a long time ago. Maybe there’s some parts I forgot, or intentionally left out, but that’s for you to decide. For now, I say this. Keep bleeding, world. It makes me happy.