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"Here you leave today and enter the world of yesterday, tomorrow and fantasy." - Entrance Plaque of Walt Disney World Magic Kingdom
It was November 9th, 1997.
Montreal, Quebec, Canada.
And the Molson Center was packed.
WWE, the wrestling promotion in the US, no, The WORLD had come to town.
And 13-year-old Kevin Owen Steen was beyond thrilled.
His first wrestling show ever, live!
Well, the first one that really counted anyway.
Sure, he’d been to smaller, regional shows, but WWE was where it was at! Where the superstars wrestled! The true immortals that, Kevin knew.
Someday, he would be just like them.
He was going to be a wrestler. He could feel it.
From the moment he saw his first-ever VCR tape with his dad, he just knew.
It was in his blood, in his heart, coursing through him. Burning like fire and making him want to move! To run, jump, dive. Do a million moonsaults and a billion powerbombs.
And, as he sat at ringside, cheering on his hero Shawn Michaels as he was challenging for the WWE title, he felt more alive than he ever had in his entire life.
The other kids at school didn’t get it. They didn’t get how amazing and awesome wrestling was. Or, awesome and amazing? Awe-mazing?
Kevin didn’t know enough English words yet to explain it. He was working so hard to learn. English was a tough language.
But he was GOING to learn, and he was GOING to someday, before long, be in the ring, right there with Michaels. He would be the greatest wrestler in the WORLD!
It was said that a former WWE wrestler, a champion at that, Jacques Rougeau, was considering opening an academy in the area. And his parents were talking about having him learn.
He’d learn from the best.
Be the best.
The Greatest Wrestler Who Ever LIVED.
And, someday, he’d stand beside Shawn Michaels, and kick so much ass…
Asses like Bret “The Hitman” Hart, who, for some reason, thought he was special just being from Calgary.
Nobody was special just for being from somewhere.
Not even Canada.
To be special, you had to BE SPECIAL.
And, honestly…
Kevin thought Bret’s brother Owen was way cooler.
They even had the same birthday! And the same name!!!
Kind of.
Close enough, anyway.
Really, he liked "Owen" more. Steen was his name, but wasn't that intimidating.
Maybe if he was a wrestler, he'd go by his middle name.
Kevin... Owen.
Owens?
His initials would be KO, so that would be cool. Wasn't that the thing in English? To "KO" someone?
It would be cool.
He could be like Owen, and kick Bret's ass.
So, as Bret came to the ring and flashed his stupid mirrored glasses, Kevin made sure to flip him off.
Bret returned the favor, and Kevin sneered.
“SCREW YOU, BRET!” Kevin shouted.
“Kevin!” his father hushed beside him.
“Ugh.”
Even his dad didn’t understand. Nobody did.
Nobody really got it.
Someday, though, he’d meet someone who did.
Because part of wrestling was tag team wrestling, right?
Owen had been great with Bret at one point, before Bret was an asshole about things.
A growl started building in Kevin’s chest.
He was going to fight alongside Owen, too.
And kick Bret Hart’s ass.
The referee, Earl Hebner, motioned for the bell to ring, and the match began.
And, as Kevin watched, on edge, knowing in his heart that The Heartbreak Kid would come out the winner, he could almost see the path ahead of him unfurling, brick by brick, canvas by canvas.
A road leading directly to the center of the ring in front of him, a short few years down the line.
The match was going to be incredible.
And, Kevin Steen knew…
So would he.