I may seem like an unlikely success in wrestling. Despite coming from a backyard wrestling background, growing up in Kentucky — far from an independent wrestling hotbed, and having no family members in the business, I'm currently flying to Japan to wrestle in NJPW's Tag League for the third time.

Some attribute my overnight success to one booking, one match, and one spot that changed my life in 2019, but it was truly the culmination of a series of connections I made and opportunities I seized that have allowed me to pursue my passion as a professional wrestler on my terms.

A lot has changed since then, but I still know that it's possible to find a place for yourself in the professional wrestling world. I found mine.

The Yard and $800 Worth of Training

Like many wrestlers my age, the first time I wrestled was on a trampoline around age 11 or 12. My buddy Dallas, AKA Big D, AKA C4, and I would show up to my friend's house and start wrestling on his trampoline unannounced.

Around this time, I see the Backyard Wrestling DVDs, which blow my mind. We start to emulate what we see on these DVDs and begin to make connections in our community to grow our scene of backyard wrestlers. My set of friends joins up with another existing group and merges with their backyard promotion, Prodigy Wrestling Society.

Seeking some kind of formal training, we eventually find a school that will provide lessons for $800 when we're 16 or 17 years old. It was terrible. 

Still, it allowed us to develop our skills in a proper ring. We neglect to tell any of the local weekend warriors that we come from the Yard, knowing the stigma attached to it. They're probably able to put two and two together once they see our matches, though. 

What the local wrestlers lacked in athleticism, they made up for by working headlocks and using classic Southern wrestling tropes — which I love, for what it's worth. What we lack in wrestling ability, we make up for by jumping on our heads. More is more. Fuck it.

The bookers love it because the fans are going crazy. The boys, however, do not love it. We're teenage backyarders, after all, and my character of "The Sauce" is a tribute to Taco Bell. You can imagine how the grizzled local vets felt about us.

I'm happy to develop real-world experience in an actual ring, but at this point, it can't really compare to the connections I've made in the Yard. Throughout this time, I continue to expand my reach to other backyard wrestlers by posting on backyard wrestling forums, including a sub-section of WrestleFigs called Backyard Bouts. 

Here, and on another Backyard Wrestling forum, I'm exposed to Yard legends like Matt Demorest, Daniel Makabe, Anarchy Andy, Yakuza J, and Scott Henson — rest in peace. It's a new class after the class of guys like M-Dogg 20 and Josh Prohibition from the DVDs, and they're taking it to a level I couldn't have imagined in Kentucky.

I start traveling to backyard Super Shows, with my first event in 2006 all the way up in Rhode Island. I acclimate to these long drives over the next decade or so as I'm working Super Shows and various low-level indies whenever I can.

The Drive

For years, I had been sort of one foot in, one foot out of wrestling. Like most aspiring wrestlers, becoming a full-time performer was always the goal from childhood. 

Still, in addition to working indies run by my friends from the Yard — promotions like Beyond Wrestling, 3-2-1 BATTLE!, and Freelance Wrestling — I was pursuing music and running a marketing agency, representing clients like recording studios and nightclubs. At some point, wrestling kind of goes on the back burner as life happens.

I see my friends begin to thrive and build lives as wrestlers, and I get the itch myself. They encourage me to focus on wrestling, and it begins to get to the point where I can't get the thought out of my head. So, I begin to take some bookings again.

There was a specific drive down to Resolute Wrestling in Crossville, Tennessee. Resolute, another promotion started by a friend I met in the Yard, will always hold a place in my heart. They were always happy to book me to wrestle in their harshly lit, concrete-box Bible Connections Ministries venue, complete with squeaky low-boy ring.

I'm typically an easy-going, pleasant guy, but during the drive, I guess it was becoming evident on my face that something was eating at me. I'm riding with my now-fiance, then-girlfriend, Tabby, who senses something is amiss. She asks, "Are you good?"

I wasn't. I knew that any time spent in my life on anything other than wrestling was keeping me from growing as an in-ring performer and reaching the places I needed to. I needed to focus all of my energy on wrestling. 

I quit the marketing job and decided to make one final push as a wrestler. 

A few weeks later, I get a text message from Tony Deppen.

Tony Deppen

In 2019, Game Changer Wrestling was planning its inaugural Backyard Wrestling event for July. I had known Tony Deppen from backyard wrestling before the indies.

He had been showing GCW booker Brett Lauderdale our backyard clips for some time, who was impressed with what we were doing on our own. Deppen vouches for us and insists to Brett that if he's planning to do a backyard show, he needs to do it with backyard talent. 

Selflessly, Tony only wanted the best for me and for wrestling, saying:

Independence Day

I take the booking for GCW's Backyard Wrestling, and Brett pairs me with Deppen for the match. A few months later, I'm making a 12+ hour drive — five-wrestlers-deep in the back of a Toyota Corolla — to a Fourth of July party on the East Coast that's also a wrestling show.

I'm already getting pissed off that we've backtracked an hour and a half for no reason. Great. This is also when I stopped allowing other people to coordinate my travel plans.

We drive all night and make it to a suburban New Jersey home, the venue for an invite-only event that will take place in someone's honest-to-goodness backyard with thousands of people tuning in online. 

I connect with Deppen, and we go over our match. I'm attempting to fight my sleep deprivation by drinking an alarming amount of energy drinks, and I think both the caffeine and lack of sleep are probably affecting my judgment. So, we decide to try everything. I text Tabby and let her know I'm about to wrestle, then turn my phone off.

I walk out for my entrance, and there's a stark difference between the reaction from my buddies I've wrestled with in the Yard and the fans, who clearly have no idea who I am. Deppen celebrates the Fourth of July by making his way to the ring to Hulk Hogan's "Real American" theme, tattered American flag in his hands nearly lighting ablaze from the expensive pyro setup.

[Deppen entrance gif]

Tony is working as a shit-head heel, chiding me for being a backyarder. Within a minute, I'm flying out of the ring onto him, we're hitting poison ranas in the dirt, and I can hear people in the crowd starting to say things like, "Dude, that was crazy." A fan offers Deppen a beer, and he quickly hands it back after scanning the label for a second.

We keep at it, Deppen grabbing onto a tree branch like a trapeze bar and landing a rana of his own. The crowd becomes more and more vocally supportive. What better time to try some of our sketchier ideas? 

Deppen sets up a chair, promising to "send this dumbass back to the Yard." I try to boot him in the gut, but he catches my foot and flips me backwards, the back of my head clanging off the chair.

[chair clank gif]

I know what we've still got planned, but in a moment, it's all sort of dawning on me. I'm lying here in New Jersey backyard dirt while my buddy insults me and repeatedly injures me. Somehow, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

I think the crowd is beginning to believe. I climb atop a nearby trailer while Tony stands in the grass below. Don't think about it too much, it's just where we ended up.

With a severe lack of sleep and caffeine coursing through my veins, I take a breath, step back, and attempt a Shooting Star Press from the trailer to Deppen below. He nails me with a chairshot as I rotate and land inches away from going head-first into a cinder block. I'm not sure I knew that cinder block was there. I would have preferred if it was somewhere else. Tony covers me, and in doing so, reveals just how shitty and falling-apart my backyard gear was. I kick out, though.

[shooting star and pin gif]

We continue to attempt every idea we had, and somehow, they all connect. Maybe more importantly, each sequence carries the spirit of backyard wrestling.

[trampoline moonsault gif]

The crowd is right there for all of it, in disbelief after Tony flies from the ring and catches me with a destroyer on the grass.

[destroyer gif]

Still, we have the finish in mind. We know that it's our wildest idea so far, with the smallest margin for error. If everything goes right, it'll be the perfect button for the match. But if I'm just slightly off…

I place Deppen on a door set up across two tables on the floor. Well, the grass. I gather myself, run the ropes, and dive onto Deppen with a picture-perfect 630 from the ring to the floor. The crowd is going ballistic, but this time, my backyard buddies are joined by the GCW crowd in losing their minds.

[630 gif]

Chants of "Please come back!" quickly change to an insistent "You're coming back!" and I'm embraced by Tye Hill and Dexter Beckett, two of my friends from the Yard. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

What The Fuck Did You Do?

My phone remains off as I hang out and enjoy the party for the rest of the day. I don't remember if this was a conscious decision, but I'm enjoying the moment and trying to take it all in, along with a bunch of hot dogs. 

I didn't know just how far my match with Tony had reached during the day. After the show, we continue to party, and I finally turn my phone back on. The first thing I see is a text from Tabby:

The second thing I see is literally thousands of notifications across various platforms. Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, all going insane for the match I had with Deppen, but especially the 630. The irony is not lost on me that I quit a marketing job and potentially just missed out on the most marketable moment of my career.

So, I lock in on my phone and start responding to people. Me and the car of guys I came with had originally decided to stay the night and crash on someone's floor, but now plans are changing for some reason. We have to head back that night, and it's starting to piss me off. Again, last time I let someone else decide my travel.

Luckily, one of them promises they'll be fine to drive through the night while I keep at it on my phone. I mean, this shit is crazy. Will Ospreay retweeted it. What's worse: after about an hour on the road, my once-alert driver is now fucking falling asleep at the wheel. I can physically feel how much the moment in that backyard had changed for me, so I take the wheel and make the rest of the drive. 

Before I started driving, there was one tweet from that afternoon that really stopped me in my tracks.

CIMA, a Japanese wrestling star, was inviting me to wrestle for his company, Oriental Wrestling Entertainment, after seeing the 630. At the time, OWE was beginning to take off, having just signed a TV deal in China and announced an expansion to the U.K. However, amid ongoing protests and riots in Hong Kong over anti-extradition laws, a trip to China was not in the cards. 

I chat with CIMA, and we work something out for the near future.

A Cup of Coffee

Before flying to the other side of the world, I continue to establish myself in various American indies, including launching a budding rivalry with now-AEW wrestler Blake Christian. I make it to the finals of Chikara's Rey de Voladores tournament with a close friend of mine, The Whisper.

I'm happy to keep working with GCW, who allow me to keep making my mark on shows like 2 Cups Stuffed and Jimmy Lloyd's Frightfest, where I dive from The Voltage Lounge's shitty balcony on my birthday.

[frightfest gif] 

I'm planning to be in Los Angeles for my brother's birthday, so I think to reach out to Rocky Romero to try and make a connection there and get the ball rolling — New Japan had an LA show at the Globe Theater while I would be there, so I ask him to meet for a cup of coffee or something.

"Fuck that," Rocky says. "Do you want to work the show?"

You never know unless you ask. So, I work a tag match with Aaron Solo against Amazing Red and TJP in the Globe Theater for NJPW. Just a few weeks later, I'm booked to wrestle in Japan. Four months earlier, I was rolling around in the dirt with Deppen in New Jersey.

Part of me knows that, had this happened when I was just 21, I may have let it all pass me by or fuck it up in some way. At 32, having made the decision to focus solely on wrestling, I knew that none of this was guaranteed to me. It wouldn't last forever. Nothing does. Still, I can't imagine it ever having played out differently. 

But right now, it's all happening. I'm still trying to take a step back to take stock of everything changing in my life at the moment. This is the type of break that wrestlers dream of, and it's happening to me. How the fuck am I supposed to process that? 

When most independent workers travel to Japan, they're usually brought in by a specific promotion and tour exclusively with that company. I was fortunate to connect with several promotions on my six-week tour.

Along with CIMA's OWE, I was able to wrestle for places like Big Japan, Wrestle-One, and VKF Pro Wrestling, with people like Drew Parker, El Lindaman, and Masashi Takeda. 

It's getting closer to the end of the year, and I decide to fly Tabby out to celebrate New Years with me in Japan. She got to see me wrestle the last night of the OWE tour in Korakuen Hall, which meant the world to me that we could share that together. Tabby was with me before things changed, and now she's here with me in Japan to enter 2020. Rocky hooks us up with Wrestle Kingdom passes and we're able to take in the event together in the new year.

More people are taking note of my work, as well. While I'm in Japan, I schedule a tryout with WWE.

The Performance Center

I don't come from an athletic background. I can do some wild shit in the ring, but I'm not some star athlete type of guy. Knowing what they look for in their tryouts, I'm dreading the physical aspect of it. Mentally, I'm ready. I'm there, but I'm booked for the next few weeks, so I'm not quite prepared to have to do a million squats and run drills for six hours for my WWE tryout.

We're on the road for an American NJPW tour in the Southeast, and two days after the tour ends, I'm scheduled for my WWE tryout. I'm on the NJPW tour bus, and someone from the WWE office contacts me saying they need my blood work and physical. 

OK. This was the first I was hearing about it, and I'm literally on this bus until two days before the tryout. I guess I could have figured it out, but I write back, explaining that I didn't have the time or resources to get these things back to them in time. Meanwhile, I also don't have the time to prepare physically for the tryout.

Soon, I get a call while I'm on the bus. It's William Regal.

"Hey, Alex. It seems like you have some complications with your bloodwork and your physical."

I explain to him that I was currently on this NJPW tour, which ends in Georgia in a few days.

"That's fine,” Regal continues. “I'm going to be in Atlanta to see the boys anyway. I'll see you then. Let's reschedule your tryout."

I fear that, after a year of making the most of my opportunities, I had allowed this one to slip through my fingers, but Regal was understanding about the situation. That night, I work in a six-man tag with Clark Connors and TJP against The Rock 'n Roll Express and Tanahashi for New Japan. I meet Regal in person, and set things up for the next tryout.

Before it takes place, I fuck my foot up in an ROH match with Andrew Everett. X-rays reveal that I'll need to take some time off, wear a boot for some time, and miss the rescheduled tryout date with WWE.

That fall, I get a call from Regal asking if I have any existing contracts. I tell him that I don't and ask when the next tryout will take place, and he responds:

"We're skipping the tryout. We want to go straight to paper."

World Wrestling Entertainment

I always told myself that, if a contract would present itself, I would know if it was the right company to go with. In the Winter of 2020, WWE was the best possible option for me. It felt right. Signing with WWE allowed Tabby and me to move to Orlando, where we've made so many connections. I'd be able to train under some of the PC's incredible coaches and continue to develop.

Up until this point, aside from $800 worth of absolute dog-shit wrestling school I attended back in Kentucky, I had no formal training. I was a backyarder who figured it out. You can't put a dollar amount on the type of help I could receive in WWE, and the platform they could provide for me.

I debut on 205 Live, which is an ideal starting place. I’m so grateful to have wrestlers like Ariya Daivari, the Bollywood Boyz, and Tony Nese helping me transition from the indies to a major production. Though I was confident with my in-ring abilities, I knew I needed to further develop my character.

The way promo classes worked — everyone had to take at least one promo class each week, and the last class of the week was on Thursday. This typically resulted in Thursdays having the most crowded rooms, perhaps due to everyone putting it off all week.

A few weeks earlier, I had taped a match with Kushida on 205 Live that I was really proud of. Again, there I was in a WWE ring, wrestling Kushida in a brief but hard-fought bout. There's no way I would let myself lose sight of something like that. Even if 205 Live was an online broadcast — hey, most wrestling is streamed these days, after all — no one could take that match or opportunity away from me.

I'm working on this promo I wanted to present in class. Class begins, and I eagerly stand in front of my peers and the coaches and start to tell my story: How the grind of working indies brought me to where I was, how I'd make a 12-hour drive to leap from a balcony to make a name for myself, how I'd do anything for an opportunity in wrestling — even if I didn't get a payday. 

As I'm delivering the promo, some of the writers enter the room and stand with Steve Corino and Ryan Katz, the NXT director of creative. I finish my story, and it was immediately well received. Corino says how much he loved the promo, even saying that it gave him chills, but it's not up to him. He gestures to the writers and says that it's more up to them.

The writers agree: it was very good, and they loved the spirit of my delivery. However, it's not something they'd ever use on TV. 

I'm thinking "OK, why?" but I don't speak up. Corino is clearly taken aback and asks, "Why not?"

The writers explain that, though the story may be unique in a worldly sense, it's not unique in a wrestling context. Plenty of people in that room had worked hard on the indies to get to where they were. In a way, the promo was too wrestling-focused. I felt slightly dejected, but honestly, it was great feedback.

Promo class continues, and with all due respect to my classmates, I didn't pay much attention to their stuff, because I'm rewriting my own shit. We reach the end of class, and Katz says, "Well, if no one else has a promo to share, that'll be a wrap for the day."

I ask, "Can I cut it one more time?"

This time, I have retooled the promo to be more about my life outside of wrestling — where I came from, having to cut mold off of my bread just to make a sandwich as a child, growing up poor, really trying to speak to my human experience. I made it about the grind of life, rather than the grind of wrestling.

This time, the writers take me aside and ask, "Can you have that ready for TV?"

The next day, the Kushida match is set to air on 205. I'm driving to go tan in anticipation of taping my promo, and I get a call from John Laurinaitis. As soon as I saw the number on my phone, I knew what it was. I always thought it was funny that he used my NXT name during the call, rather than "Alex." Due to budget cuts, WWE was terminating my contract. 

The first person I reached out to was William Regal, to thank him. He was surprised by the release and expressed that he had no idea that it was coming.

I tell myself that, well, if budget cuts are the reason for this release, this multi-billion dollar company just told me that they can't afford me. I must be fucking expensive.

I begin making calls to people like Rocky Romero, Hunter from ROH, and Brett Lauderdale, to tell them that I've got 30 days until I'm allowed to work again. I am independent.

Back in the World

Back on the indies, I'm working all over the place again. Companies like AIW, ROH, GCW, Impact, and PWG, along with smaller promotions like Timebomb Pro. I'm reconnecting with NJPW, working Strong tapings. They book me in a high profile match with IWGP World Champion Will Ospreay in Philadelphia's 2300 Arena, and I need to continue making a lasting impression.

Working with Ospreay was a dream of mine, and I'd like to think that my performance in this match is what continues to keep me in the good graces of the New Japan offices. Less than a year later, they fly me back over to Japan to wrestle in the Best of the Super Junior tournament, where I rack up wins against emerging stars like Francesco Akira and SHO.

GCW books me in LA against Jonathan Gresham, where I'm in over my head with a technical mastermind. I'm up for the challenge and hold my own with him in the ring. I'm happy to be back on my own without having lost a step.

Story of the Eye

I'm once again booked to appear for GCW at the Ukrainian Cultural Center in LA. This time, Brett asks if I would want to do a deathmatch. I agree, and he asks if I'm comfortable with doing glass. Of course I am, it's a deathmatch.

It had been a long time since I had worked anything resembling a deathmatch. Probably about 18 years, and it was in the backyard. Still, I knew that the LA crowds were always gigantic, and it would be a huge opportunity for me in front of a large audience. 

I'm set to wrestle Jimmy Lloyd, so I know I'll be comfortable in there with a guy who knows his way around a deathmatch. I know I'm in for a painful shower and flight afterward, but I have to believe that I'll wake up and be fine the next day, in whatever way that's possible after a deathmatch. 

In some ways, the line is so thin that you simply need luck on your side. I never expected that I would end up $30,000 in the hole for emergency surgery.

I'm waiting in the back for my music to hit, and I'm not convinced that Brett or Giancarlo, GCW video editor at the time, know exactly how hard I'm about to go. It's a little chilly outside in February, and along with my Baja Blast-colored street fight jeans, I've got a black sleeveless shirt on. 

They ask, "Is that what you're working in?"

No, I'm not working a deathmatch in a fucking shirt. What am I, an asshole? They thought I was joking. You booked me in a deathmatch — do you think I'm going to show up wearing bubble wrap? I pop the shirt off and head out to the ring with my Taco Bell Cravings Case. 

We build the match around riskier and riskier spots, starting with barbed wire. After a bit, I reach into the Taco Bell box, grabbing a large soda cup and a hardshell taco full of thumbtacks. Of course, Jimmy counters and pours the tacks into my mouth, pump-kicking them with force. 

It's been a long time since I've heard this type of reaction from the crowd, and I'm loving every moment. Time to get Jimmy back. I take him down, set up a pane of glass over his body, and climb to the top rope. I rise up, and the crowd rises with me. I take off for a twisting senton, usually known as a Spiral Tap. For me, it's a Cinnamon Twist, of course. I crash onto Jimmy, breaking the glass. 

I immediately feel the scattered cuts on my back, but something's up with my forearm. I look down at the cut and see pieces of glass sticking out of it. I don't know what the fuck to do, I'm just operating on instinct. I'm reaching into my arm and pulling out pieces of glass. What the fuck. 

Truly, there's pain firing off in so many places across my body that the arm doesn't register as uniquely painful. It's kind of irrelevant in the moment — pain is just pain at that point. Later, I'm told that a larger shard had traveled fully through my arm. The crowd chants "Holy shit!" while the people in the front row are completely aghast.

Jimmy and I hit a few more spots through the glass, and the crowd is going ballistic. Something's up with my arm, but I think I'm feeling alright. We've got the crowd right where we want them, perfectly building to our finish. Jimmy sets up a pane in the corner, lifts me to his shoulders, and charges the glass, throwing me through it with an Assault Driver.

Pieces of glass fly up into the air while I'm lying on my back in the corner. For an instant — truly a fraction of a second — I open my eyes and squint before closing them again. Luck was not on my side. A small piece of the glass had fallen onto my open eye. Jimmy pins me. He helps me to my feet and leaves the ring as a sign of respect. Something is up with my eye.

At this point, it feels like when you get anything in your eye, like a grain of sand. Your eye waters and feels irritated. Only later did I discover that the globe of my eye had been cut.

The Whisper was in attendance, helping to run the show. He comes to check on me after the match and immediately knows that we need to head to the ER. I tell him that I should probably take a few promo photos, which he vehemently objects to. Whisper leaves to get his car, and as he's making his way around the block, I'm taking photos behind the venue.

He pulls up in a rental car, and it's probably worth mentioning that the black sleeveless shirt from earlier never made it back on. I grabbed a few towels to keep the backseat from turning into some Reservoir Dogs looking shit, but I'm still shirtless and absolutely covered in glass.

We arrive at the nearest hospital, and I head straight to the ER. Whisper isn't allowed to enter with me due to ongoing COVID concerns. I explain to the ER that I went through some glass and it got in my eye. I didn't bother to tell them I went through four panes of glass. Anyway, here's the result. Do you like it? They did not like it.

They inform me that they, in fact, cannot help me and need to transport me via ambulance to another hospital. An ambulance? That's not happening, I'm not paying for that shit. Luckily, The Whisper was still there, and he drives me to the other hospital.

Once again, he cannot join me in this emergency room. I'm a bit more insistent this time with the staff. In the waiting room, they ask, "What's happening?"

Well, I'm actively bleeding out of a lot of places, and my eyeball is lacerated. So, maybe get me back there. I'm thinking, I don't know where I am on your priority list, but maybe I can jump ahead of this guy with the cough over here. I'm told to go take a seat, but I'm not about to get blood and glass on their chairs like an asshole. I stand in the corner, shirtless and bleeding.

I call Tabby, who's asking for updates on my eye. I tell her, "I can't see very well. But I can see." She asks me to send her a picture of it. Upon switching to the selfie cam, I realize it's getting worse.

Tabby sees the photo and tells me, "Go to the front desk, right now, and say that you need to go back there. Your eyeball is coming out of your eyeball."

So, I did. And they took me back right away. The nurses start by cleaning me up and stitching up wherever they think I need it. They numb me up while they're picking the glass out of my body. A nurse reaches the spot on my arm.

"Well, there's glass still in your arm. We would have to remove it surgically. Or, we could just stitch you up with the glass in there. If it ever gives you any problems, you can always have it removed in the future."

I'm more concerned with my eye. It's like 2 or 3 AM, and my eye is still dripping out, so my thought process for my arm is largely informed by the eye issue. Waiting to have additional surgery on the arm could prolong the time until my eye is handled. It's maybe not the best idea to leave the should-I-leave-glass-in-my-arm dilemma up to me, the guy in the ER who's covered in glass, but it's where we're at. Fuck it. Stitch me up. 

I'm not greeted by the surgeon until 7 or 8 AM. Eye surgery occurs some time later the next day. He really took care of my eye, though — I once again have full, 20/20 vision.

The Sauce

It may not surprise you that I have, at times in my life, sent Taco Bell a DM.

Before that initial trip to Japan for BOSJ, I reached out to them and let them know who I am, that I'm traveling to Japan, and would like to collaborate in some way.

Initially, they're a little on the fence about working together. Probably because they have no fucking idea who I am, and why would they? So, I begin working on tweeting in Japanese, including my Taco Bell habits, and my Japanese fanbase grows. Taco Bell takes notice. Suddenly, I'm having lunch with some of the higher-ups in Taco Bell Japan, and they're asking for advice on how to improve their Twitter numbers. 

I see Japanese people tweeting things like "I came to Taco Bell today because of Alex Zayne, but I didn't know what to order because it was my first time in a Taco Bell." I compile a bunch of these posts and send them to my connection within the company with a solution to this problem: The Alex Zayne Meal. They won't have to question what to order, they'll just order the Alex Zayne Meal. It even comes with an Alex trading card.

A Pepsi Cup With My Face On It

It's difficult for me to believe that everything since the GCW Backyard Wrestling match has taken place over just the last six years. My life has changed so much, and I'm eternally grateful for the opportunities afforded to me by wrestling. 

Along with milestones like wrestling on American television, working in Korakuen Hall, getting booked on Wrestle Kingdom, and signing a WWE contract, I got a sponsorship from Taco Bell, a Pepsi cup with my face on it. All on my own terms, all because I decided to fully commit.

I'm currently aboard a flight to Japan to wrestle in my third Tag League with NJPW. Twice with Lance Archer, who has helped me so much throughout my career, and once with Ryusuke Taguchi. I plan to make the most of the opportunity, as I always have. I try to carry the same spirit of the Yard into my matches, but I've learned so much since then.

Alex Zayne is an independent professional wrestler who has performed in promotions like NJPW, GCW, NXT, ROH, and many, many more.