In your head, you’re in front of 93,173 people. You can hear the cheers, the sound of the mat. In your head, your voice is Gorilla Monsoon saying that the roof of the Pontiac Silver Dome is about to explode. You fall to your back and Gorilla says, you say, “Drop kick and a beauty.” You get to your feet, raise your hand to your ear, make sure those ninety-three thousand are still there. You come off the ropes, hit him with the leg drop. You’re about to go for the pin when your mom calls from upstairs, yelling that your dinner is getting cold…