“You wanna know what I really think? Thomas hasn’t thought this through, the rings are gonna be ridiculous to follow, and the humanoids who buy CSWA DVDs won’t understand the alternate commentary/alternate angle concept.”

“Great, Sammy… way to keep the spirits up.”

Bill Buckley chuckled to himself. Seventeen years after their first broadcast together, and he still got a kick out of Sammy Benson’s fatalistic attitude towards the company and the fanbase.

“I still think it’d be a great visual if the four outer rings finished, and I stood up and tore my tuxedo off to reveal a referee’s shirt, and slid in to call the center.”

The person who made Manny Juarez an on-air personality had made the tragic mistake of assuming he had a personality that the CSWA fans wanted full exposure to. But he was entertaining, and contrary to popular belief, Yes, English.

“Nobody wants to see that, Montana. Seriously.”

His son, Billy, just wanted to be Sammy. Sorry, Billy, you’ve got too much Buckley in you.

“I…mean, do you all understand how the switches happen?”

And poor Billy Parsons. He didn’t care about the egos. He didn’t care about the egos and the personalities of these people. All he cared about was whether or not the cruise liner carrying his dad had been found yet, and all he wanted to know was, do these people know how the equipment works?

“We got it, Bilbo. Besides, you’re gonna be in charge of flipping the switch, right?”

The CSWA Auditorium in Greensboro, North Carolina, was still ground zero of professional wrestling for a good portion of fans and workers alike. At the moment, six hours removed from the opening bell of Anniversary, the various commentators for the event were holding an impromptu meeting at ringside.

Yes, ringside. In the CSWA Auditorium, the ring was never taken down.

Bill Buckley and Sammy Benson were set to handle commentary duties for both the United States Title ring and the final, Center ring, for the broadcast. They were also the main commentators for the CSWA in general, and were set to handle commentary duties for any other matches that would be put on the schedule for the night. Despite Buckley’s anxiety and Sammy’s alcoholism, they had been the standard for all other teams to strive for for nearly two decades.

“What about the hacker, Bilbo?”

Stan Parsons was probably not too happy about calling the Greensboro Title ring with Billy Buckley. The younger Buckley tried, but all too often failed, at being the Sammy for a New Generation.

“The hacker, John, will not be a factor.”

John Simons was still trying to find his voice. The host of CSWA On Time, he had been one of the casualties of the past few years’ inconsistencies and corporate questions. Manny was sure to try and drown him out, but he would be able to hold his own calling the Title Shot ring.

“How can you be so sure?” asked Bill Buckley.

“McGinnis and I have reconfigured the entire wireless network,” replied Billy, “and we’ve put two additional security lockouts on the feed. I can guarantee you, if the hacker is here, they will not be able to interfere in the audio feed.”

“Unless McGinnis is, or is working with, the hacker.”

“Think about it, Sammy.”

Ivy McGinnis, sitting on the ring apron with her chin rested on the middle rope, had barely said a word since the meeting started. The rest of the crew – her broadcast partner for the Presidential Title ring Rudy Seitzer included – assumed it was because of her delicate condition.

Two weeks ago, after finally making it home from the Pooljam, Ivy discovered that she was about four weeks pregnant. Despite rumors that had no doubt originated with Teri Melton or Sammy Benson, Ivy was nervously looking forward to starting up her own little family with ‘Triple X’ Sean Stevens.

But she was actually quiet because she had learned.

Poison Ivy was one of the great CSWA stories. It was the CSWA where she proved that a woman manager could be more than a piece of eye candy. It was the CSWA where she proved that a woman could have a very smart, pointed voice on the cover of the CS Tribune. It was the CSWA where the woman known as the Psycho Bitch could transition from Poison Ivy to Ivy McGinnis, a patient, strong – willed front office executive who actually managed to keep her head in an organization like the CSWA.

“I’m not working for the hacker, Sammy,” replied Ivy, “and you should be glad for that. There won’t be any audio troubles with the show.”

Sammy nodded towards her. He had had an antagonistic relationship with the Feminazi for her entire career, and was equally proud of the fact that he had dubbed her with that nickname. Despite his sense of humor, he was glad Ivy was there for another Anniversary.

A few years ago, it was iffy.

“So we’re opening on Buckley and Benson,” recapped Rudy, “introducing the rest of us, and we hit the big dance.”

“Exactly,” confirmed Billy, “and just do us all a favor and keep your attention on your own ring.”

Laughter broke the tension, and the meeting ended with Billy Parsons walking back towards the curtain. With his people skills he would probably never rise above his current position as the acting chief technical officer, but to be honest, all he wanted to do was help his dad.

“You gonna make it, kid?”

Rudy had stayed mostly quiet through the entire meeting. He was mainly the replacement player when it came to live broadcasts, preferring to stick to the editing room and the backstage interviews. When Ivy revealed that she would be calling a ring for the GOLD RUSH, she insisted that Rudy call it with her. He was both weary and flattered by the attention.

“Course I will,” replied Ivy, “what do I look like, Sammy?”

“Words hurt, Feminazi.”

“I loves you, pookums!”

That was the heart of it all.

Bill Buckley trying to be professional.

Ivy McGinnis and Sammy Benson tossing insults and half – serious terms of endearment.

Stan Parsons trying to hold off retirement for one more night.

Billy Buckley trying to be Sammy Benson.

This was the CSWA, where the talent had more days off than on, and where the state of the ownership fluctuated more times than the championship. But every member of the staff always managed to fit back into their roles and responsibilities like a well – worn glove.

This was the CSWA, and this was home.