The Re-emergence of Ironfinger

Back in the days of the MWF (Martin Wrestling Federation) Ironfinger was a figure of legend. The tell tale sound (it’s really hard to describe but "Schpee" comes as close as the human tongue can manage) was often enough to send an opponent scurrying in the opposite direction.

Some background is required:

The MWF grew out of a childhood of watching wrestling. Figures like Hulk Hogan and Andre the Giant were our heroes, while King Kong Bundy and Big John Studd were our nemeses. In order to copy what we saw on TV we had to develop our own federation and so we did (interestingly enough they now have warnings on shows like this saying you’re not to try this at home furthering my suspicions that my generation was a "test generation.")

For a time the MWF even had its own belt and there were some historic battles; for instance the time I nailed my brother with a guitar case, the time my brother inadvertently submitted to a toe hold and the penultimate flashback to my brother’s Rambo like emergence from a sleeping bag to unsuspectingly hit me with a "steel chair" (that is to say a pillow).

"Fabulous" Francois Martin, Robber Martin, Billy the Butcher, Gentleman William Martin – these were the cloaks we put on in childhood and walked across the grandest of stages – our living room. We flew like Newfie luchadores.

But the MWF, like many grass roots federations, folded. Some say it became too commercial with the emergence of "The Timbits." Others say it folded when one of the partners moved off to university.

For a time The Ironfinger was the finishing hold of Billy the Butcher (who then refined his act to become "The Gentleman" William Martin). The opponent knew he was in trouble when that tell tale sound "Schpee" was heard and if he wasn’t fast enough the Ironfinger would find its mark (often the soft point just behind the arm pit). It was also a great way to get out of the opponents finishing submission holds.

But as art imitates life and history is doomed to repeat itself; that which has gone has come round again.

While playing football a couple of weeks ago the ball bobbed off the ground at break finger speeds and hit my right index finger. I felt no pain but one of the other players said: "Dude, your finger doesn’t look right!" and sure enough the top third of my finger was pointing northwest while the rest was pointing north.

I popped it back into place and am in the process of finding out what happened to it (me thinks it was dislocated). But between then and the time I find out I have been wearing a splint… one that could be made of … iron? (it's probably not, it's really too light, but apply some imagination.

Fabulous Francois shows up on Thursday. The Ironfinger is already here.

The MWF will be back.

What did the Pink Panther say when he stepped on an ant?

Dead Ant.... dead ant....

I am frickin’ weirded out.

The fact that I’m trying to type anything of length with a finger in a splint might tell you how much this is bugging me. Because right now that’s the other thing that’s bugging me: typing with my finger in a splint. That’s another story.

We have ants in the house. A lot of them. We’ve moved past the point where they’re coming in from outside, they’re now in the house. We’re taking steps to deal with them and the pest control people have been pretty darned good.

But that doesn’t matter. They’re there. We know they’re there. And for everyone we kill there seems to be another.

This must be how Leonidas felt when he stood at the pass of Thermopylae and saw all those Persians below; the hopelessness that you feel but must not show as you face what seems like overwhelming numbers. While the situation isn’t life or death (well not for me, but for the ants it is), and they’re just ants, I’m still freaked.

But why am I freaked?

I’m a 34 yr old man, sittin’ north of 250lbs (working on that). I’m bigger than these guys. Why am I freaked out?

• Maybe it’s all the legs… there’s a lot of appendages on one ant… there’s even more on two… for every one ant there’s another six legs.
• Maybe it’s because they work so well together… I never did well In "plays well with others" on the report card…
• Maybe it’s because they take orders from a woman… nah, I’m married so that can’t be it (hehehe okay they’re not orders they’re just more sensible suggestions than what I would have come up with).

I have no idea why they give me the creeps, but while my son is playing with his trains on the floor and there’s an ant three inches away; he’s totally oblivious to it while I’m running to save his life and get that ant. It’s not as if one ant is going to carry him off… he weighs 36lbs so in order for an ant that can carry 10x its weight to carry him off that ant would have to weigh 3.6lbs… I’d notice that one.

I need to get over this. This weekend will either make me or break me. I’m going to be digging dirt away from the sides of the house and putting down gravel and that’s where the ants are – in the dirt by the house.

It’s like Fear Factor… but I don’t have to eat them… and they got paid. Until I get over this every time a breeze tickles a hair I’m going to think it’s an ant. Every speck on the floor will be an ant. Every time the stupid floaters in my eye which I’ve accrued move I’m going to think it’s an ant.

I need to get over this.