Scoop. Turn. Slam.

Ben Miller easily picked up the training dummy and executed a flawless scoop slam inside the gym’s training ring. Just like Goldpa’s instructors taught him.

Scoop. Turn. Slam.

Ben delivered another powerful scoop slam. He knew Goldpa was putting all his faith in Ben when he asked him to join the Golden Pro Wrestling roster.

Scoop. Turn. Slam.

Ben had incredible physique, the same blonde hair, and the same desire to win. Just like Goldpa.

Scoop. Turn. Slam.

The Golden Pro Wrestling roster was shaping up. Goldpa’s business partner, Parker Meloche, had been traveling the world signing high-potential athletes. Ben had his work cut out for him if he wanted to make it to the top.

Scoop. Turn. Slam.

The pressure was on Ben to be a leader amongst the wrestlers; the gold standard of what it meant to be a competitor in the new Memphis-based promotion.

Scoop. Turn. Slam.

Suddenly, the sound of slow clapping emanated from the doorway into the gym. Ben let the practice dummy rest and turn his attention to the sound; in the doorway stood the large, albeit now-frail, Goldpa.

“Golden” Glen Miller, the 85-year-old multi-millionaire and wrestling legend, smiled at his grandson. Glen’s pride was overwhelming at the progress Ben had made. Ben had gone from former college football player to a powerful wrestler full of potential. The perfect example of what Glen was building in Golden Pro Wrestling’s roster.

“Looking great, grandson,” Glen said. “I think you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Goldpa,” Ben replied. “But I have something to admit…”

Glen’s eyebrow raised as he leaned on his golden cane. Due to his career-ending leg injury, he had relied on the assistance of his cane to keep him mobile.

“I know you want me to carry on the traditional wrestling style, scoop slams and all,” Ben continued. “But I have been working on other moves. Modern moves.”

Glen grinned to his grandson.

“That’s okay,” Glen assured. “I expected you would develop a more complex move set. My style became dormant a long, long time ago.”

Ben smiled back to his grandfather as he leaned on the ropes of the training ring. His young, blonde air dripping with sweat.

“Don’t worry, I’ve held on to some of it,” said Ben, coyly.

Without another word, Ben ran across the ring past the training dummy in the middle of the mat. He bounced off the far ropes and headed back to the middle of the ring. When he reached mid-ring, Ben jumped straight into the air and dropped his knee on the dummy’s head and produced a booming impact.

“I call it the Golden Knee,” said Ben, climbing to his feet.

Glen beamed.

“Then I’d say you’ve earned it.”

“Earned what?”

“Your ring name: ‘Golden’ Ben Miller,” said Glen with a nod.

Ben inhaled and exhaled deeply as he was overwhelmed with emotion. All this time he had wanted to share the same moniker but worked to earn it silently rather than ask.

It was finally official.

“But it comes with responsibility,” the aging retired wrestler continued. “The fans will expect more of you. Your fellow wrestlers will expect more of you. I will expect more of you.”

“I won’t let you down,” replied Ben, nodding back to his grandfather.

“I know you won’t.”

Glen turned and slowly hobbled out of the gym, relying on his cane as he walked.

Ben looked back to the practice dummy and grabbed it.

Scoop. Turn. Slam.