Wrestler’s Tribune: A Glimpse InSyde
By Nelson Jones | March 24, 2022
My name is Nelson Jones, and I’m a professional wrestler.
You might not know me. In fact, you probably don’t know me. Until a couple of months ago, I’d never even wrestled on live television, or even in front of more than a couple hundred people, max. I am not a millionaire. I drive a 2013 Honda Civic with the check engine light in a perpetual “on” state, and I still work a part-time day job three days a week, hustling in a call center so that I have the money to pay my rent. For fourteen years, I have been pursuing my dream of becoming a full time professional wrestler, despite the overwhelming odds of making it in this business, and I love absolutely every second of it.
I am the “monster” known as GenoSyde.
Mr. Cornfield is probably gonna be angry that I’m writing this… he says that “GenoSyde isn’t supposed to talk”. It’s a whole thing about tropes, I guess. Big, silent killers are supposed to be big and silent, he says. He asked me once how much less intimidating Jason Vorhees would be if he had a mic in his hand instead of a machete, and I see his point. He looks out for me. My success is his success, and he’s never given me a reason to doubt him yet. For fourteen years, James Cornfield has been a mentor, a manager, a boss and a friend to me. He gets a bad rap these days as being “out of touch” or “a cranky old man”, but there is always a method to Jimmy’s madness, and I’m maybe the best evidence of it in the world.
A guy like me shouldn’t be here.
Before Las Vegas Valley Wrestling, I was a fat kid with a stutter and a voice about one octave too high to be intimidating. I don’t know what Jimmy ever saw in me, or how he turned an overweight gas station clerk into a guy challenging for the HOTv Championship, but I’ve been with him for damned near fifteen years and I’d give my life to protect that man.
Because I owe that life to James Cornfield.
In a million years, I never imagined that I’d amount to shit in the wrestling business. It was one of those pipe dreams that used to get me through my day job… I’d be watching YouTube videos on my lunch break, checking out a Chris Kostoff promo from Turmoil or catching up on old DEFIANCE shows I missed. Man, I’d just devour anything I could get my hands on. Go to shows on the weekends, whether it was a five dollar ticket for an indy show in a rec center or the front row seat that I paid a month’s salary for at ICONIC, watching Paul Paras lose the HOW World Championship in the craziest ladder match I’d ever seen.
I was obsessed.
I loved pro wrestling more than I’d ever loved anything in my life, and I still do. Mr. Cornfield is the reason I’m wrestling Jeffrey James Roberts at March to Glory instead of watching from the cheap seats, and I owe everything that I’ve accomplished in wrestling to that man. I never wanna disrespect Jimmy or pull any of that big league bullshit that Ivy tried to get away with, so if you’re reading this Mr. Cornfield, I hope you don’t take it with anything but the utmost respect. I know you don’t think GenoSyde should talk, but this isn’t an article written by GenoSyde.
This is an article written by Nelson Jones.
Sorry if this kills the mystique for you, but I didn’t grow up in a boiler room or anything. Jimmy didn’t find me in a shed, where my parents had chained me up and fed me gruel. I’m a wrestling nerd from Detroit who desperately wanted to be a part of the business I was obsessed with. I used to play Magic: The Gathering. I was really into comic books. I didn’t lose my virginity till I was twenty two. The truth is, I have about as little in common with Jeffrey James Roberts as a man can have. I’ve barely gotten so much as a speeding ticket in my life, and he’s a mass murderer. He’s a cold and calculating mercenary, and I’m really into Canadian Destroyers. On paper, a fight between Jeffrey James Roberts and Nelson Jones wouldn’t last more than a couple of seconds… he’s a convicted killer, and I’m a fat kid from Detroit.
But JJR isn’t fighting Nelson Jones at March to Glory.
He’s fighting GenoSyde.
I’ve been reading and listening and digesting everything that Jeffrey and Jimmy had to say to one another over the last week or so, and it was finally time for me to speak up. These two have been seemingly warring over my soul for weeks now, because Jimmy thinks I’m the weapon in his war against Lee Best, and Roberts thinks he and I could make beautiful music together, or something… but what about me? Don’t I get any kind of say in this? I’m writing this article because whether it “exposes” me or not, I feel like there’s something I really, really need to get off my chest:
Go fuck yourself, Jeffrey Roberts.
When I put on the mask, and I become GenoSyde, I become a different person. The world goes red. Maybe it’s voodoo, or maybe it’s just a security blanket, but something about that mask turns me not just into some fat wrestling nerd from Detroit, but into GenoSyde. An unfeeling, unhinged monster that doesn’t stop until my opponent stops moving and the match is over. Until I’ve won. But that’s a wrestling match. That’s a job. That’s the business, and that’s what we do. But you?
You’re a fucking murderer.
Why aren’t more people absolutely horrified by that? Is that really what HOW is like? So desensitized to violence and horror that when a mass murdered walks in the door, people make jokes? That’s all I’ve seen, since I’ve been here… people making jokes about the murderer on the roster, or Jimmy grumbling about how it’s “proof that wrestling is dead”. But you’re a person who has taken human life, and seemingly shows absolutely no remorse for your actions. What would ever make you think that you and I have even the slightest thing in common? What would make you think that I’d ever look at a guy like you, and see the potential for us to be a team?
You are the absolute scum of the earth.
Everyone has their angle on this match at March to Glory. It’s Jimmy’s war on Lee Best, and he needs me to win that championship or the whole thing is gonna go belly up before it’s hardly begun. But it’s not that complicated for me, Jeff. I don’t have some crazy hidden agenda, and there aren’t a lot of layers to my rationale. I’m going to do everything in my power to walk away with the HOTv Championship, not just because it’s my dream, or because I love professional wrestling, but because it’s the right thing to do.
Because you belong in a box, alone, for the rest of your life.
You don’t deserve weekends off. You don’t deserve to get into the ring, and do the thing that I love. You don’t deserve the special privileges, or the platform, or the fame that comes with being the HOTv Champion. I don’t give a crap about the politics, Jeff, I just think you’re a really, really bad person and you deserve to lose everything good that HOW has granted you. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, and I’ve done my best to make up for them, but you show absolutely no remorse for what you’ve done. You seem proud of it, if anything.
You killed people.
I don’t know if they were innocent people or guilty people, but they were people and you were their executioner. You are the embodiment of evil on this Earth, and if it were up to me, you’d be better spent buried under the prison than taking up space inside of it. And you think we’re alike? That we’d make a good team? Jeff, I love Canadian Destroyers through tables. Kendo sticks and suicide dives. I love putting my body on the line, and inflicting punishment on opponents who have agreed to do the same to me.
But Jesus, dude. I’m not a murderer.
I’m no saint, but I don’t feel right about a guy like you walking around with that championship, Jeffrey James Roberts. It doesn’t feel like justice. It makes my fucking stomach hurt. I used to watch so much HOW when I was younger, and yeah, it was always violent and it was always crazy, but this is just… evil. And if no one else in HOW is going to take a stand and do something about it, then it’s going to be me. Nelson Jones is gonna put on his mask and see red and become GenoSyde, and inflict a world of pain onto you, because it’s the right thing to do.
Because someone needs to do it.
And I can.
Because this fat wrestling nerd from Detroit becomes something different when that mask comes down over his face, and that thing that I become is going to end your HOW career at March to Glory.
And I do mean that, Jeff.
I don’t care if you ever repent or reform. I don’t care if you find Jesus and have your soul saved by our Lord Jesus Christ. I don’t care what happens to you after you’re out of here, Jeff, I just want you out of here. Out of this company. Out of the eyes of millions of kids who were just like me, watching their heroes on television and dreaming about getting into the ring themselves someday. You don’t get a second chance at life, after stealing that chance from so many others. You don’t get to be some cult wrestling hero to people. No one should know your name, or your face, or your story. The whole world is screwed up enough as it is, and even if I never do anything else worth a damn in my entire career, this is my moment to do something good.
To triumph over evil.
And you can call it stupid or naive, it doesn’t matter to me. It’s something to fight for. It’s something worth doing. I will do absolutely anything that I have to do to take away your HOTv Championship. To make you pay for the things that you’ve done, and to punish you for being rewarded for them. Because I have done my best to live a good life and be a good person, and I have loved this wrestling business with all of my heart, and you haven’t done any of that. You haven’t earned any of this.
And I’m going to earn it.
I am going to earn the HOTv Championship. I’m going to earn a spot on War Games. I’m going to go to Alcatraz and live a dream by wrestling at the most famous pay-per-view in all of wrestling. I’m going to do my best to main event ICONIC, and I want to be the HOW World Champion someday. And I want you to see it all from a five by five room, Jeffrey James Roberts. I want you to live the rest of your life without notice. Because there are a million kids out there watching with eyes wide open, the same way that I was. And they deserve better. HOW deserves better.
Wrestling deserves better.
When I was ten years old, all I wanted to do was be a wrestler. Twenty three years later, I’m getting my first opportunity at a global level championship on the biggest show that I’ve ever wrestled on. So I’m sorry, Mr. Cornfield… I know this kind of shatters the Quiet Monster thing you had going for me all these years, but sometimes a man has to stand up for what he believes in. That’s what you’re doing– you’re going to war with Lee Best, because you feel like you deserve justice.
Well, I feel like wrestling deserves justice.
I needed to set that record straight. I love what I do, and it is a privilege to be here, whether Jimmy hates HOW down to it’s core or not. This was the show that I watched when I was a kid, and it’s so cool to be part of March to Glory after only ever seeing it through a TV screen. But sometimes, enough is enough. And every single day that Jeffrey Roberts wears an award over his shoulder and collects a check as a reward for the choices he’s made in life is a day too long. It’s time for me to go to the bad place now. It’s time for me to put on the mask and make a change in the world. It’s time for me to make my mark on the business of professional wrestling.
The next time you see me, I will become GenoSyde.
And it will be an extinction event.