Post by thesouthsidekid on Jan 9, 2007 1:06:15 GMT -5
Part One: Dealing with a past
Soaring Eagle’s Wrestling School. This place brings back some good memories. Almost five years ago was the last time I found myself in this place. I was a young 16 year old kid at the time. This was the school that my trainer, Robbie Eagle, took me in and molded me into a future legend of the wrestling business. I hadn’t had much in a father figure to look up to. My father before his and my mother’s death, was part of a gang and was gunned down in a drive by shooting. My aunt, never married. So Robbie and I were close, he was like a father to me. He helped me through those tough adolescent moments, showed my discipline, and taught me this wonderful craft.
Then one night five years ago, he was taken from my taken from me. It was a memory that has burned in my mind and haunts me to this day. A car crash, coming from a house show, ironically is what took his life. I was in the car with him. I watched him die. How traumatic do you think that must have been to a 15 year old that had already seen so many people in his life die. A mother, a father, an aunt, and a trainer. Sounds pretty traumatic.
Soon after, I got a letter in the mail. It was from Amy Eagle, Robbie’s widow. In the letter, she explained to me, that according to Robbie’s will and testament, I was to receive the rights of ownership of the school when I turned 18.
That day came, I turned 18, and I received in the mail, another letter, from Amy Eagle, the contents this time were composed of all the sets of keys to the building and the deed. She then put wrote this letter attachment and put it to the back of the deed.
Josh,
This was Robbie’s final will and testament, that you be given the gym and the school to run and own. He was hoping that you would use it to teach others, especially the troubled like how you used to be the same craft that Robbie taught you. I know you will make him proud.
I’m am closing this short letter by saying, the gym and the school is yours, because you are of age. It has been hanging over my head for three years and it is time. Always remember Robbie in your heart and know he is in heaven, watching over you.
Love,
Amy
Fast forward now to the present day. Monday, January 08, 2007. I found myself standing outside of Soaring Eagle’s Wrestling School. I had a couple of things with me. I had the deed to the property, and the set of keys to the building. The building has an aura of a run a muck urban slum. It wasn’t the same place that I once knew. The place I once knew, had pride, integrity, and vibrancy. It was as full of life as the man who ran it. But now, this same place was dull, colorless. It was almost like there was no life, no soul, and no passion anymore. It had become just as its surroundings, run down and vacant. When Robbie died, this school died.
As the school was without life, I too felt the same way. I felt in a solemn mood. It had been two weeks since Crimson Existence, where I lost the Gateway to Opportunity match. I had let it sink in, I had replayed the different scenarios in my head, much like I replay those final moments with my mentor, my father figure, my friend, in my head.
Why am I here? To be honest, I don’t know. I was in no shape to wrestle; I was in no shape to do anything, except sulk. In this moment, I wanted to sulk about many different things, but I was numb. Inside, my heart was hurting, and if I could, I’d run inside this building and hide from all the world, but on the outside, I was as numb as my skin as it was touched my the coldness of the January air.
I sat there, however and debated with myself on what to do. An old man came up to me. He looked rough and smelled rougher, like he was drenched in alcohol and hadn’t bathed in months. He approached me as he stared blankly at the building.
Old Man: This is a good school if you are wanting to be a rassler. I know the man who owns it, Ralphy is what I think his name is……
Robbie was his name. He died…five years ago.
The old man looked at me in silence. I don’t think he really knew whom he was talking to. And if did know who he was talking to, he is probably too drunk to recall it. He got up really close to me and in my face like he thought I was farther away than I was. At this point, I knew that this guy was like completely wasted. He tilted his head back and forth, probably so he could try to keep me in focus.
Old Man: So……..so…………who owns………..this place?
His speech had become more and more slurred as the alcohol had begun to set in pretty strongly by this point. He stared at me with that glazed over look, and I became more and more uncomfortable. But I decided to answer this belligerent old man’s question.
I do now. I have for about two years.
The old man looked puzzled, or maybe that was just the bottle of Jim Beam he had just finished setting in. I looked down and saw his feet moving. For a drunken man, his balance was almost decent.
Old Man: Wait……..you………look familiar……….are you from around here.
Yeah, I am.
I couldn’t believe that this old fool, even in the shape he was in, still couldn’t tell who I was. It hurt me honestly. I’ve been all around the world, loved by thousands upon thousands of fans, while this freeloader had no clue who I was. By this point, I actually was becoming a little annoyed by this old man. His stuttering and slurring, as well as the uncomfortable distance he was to me really began to weigh on me. I pulled the keys to the building out and unlocked the door. I began to open the door and walk inside, and I felt a grab on my left arm. It was the old man.
Old Man: Hey………I’m a homeless veteran…………can you loan me a dollar to get myself something to eat. Can you please?
I’m sorry, I’m broke.
I turned to walk away. Just then I was grabbed once again by the old man. This was getting ridiculous at this point. He got in my face again. That gazed stare, and that tilted head. The alcohol on his breath was unbearable. I couldn’t look him in the eyes at this point. I didn’t want to. I just had my fist clinched in a ball.
Old Man: Please man……….can you help me………….I’m…………..I’m homeless. I have so many problems……………and I need……….need help.
Without thinking, out of sheer frustration. I turned and punched the old man in the jaw. The force knocked him up against the wall and he fell lifelessly into sidewalk. I stood over top of him and looked down at him.
Everyone has their own problems, and their own failure.
After the quick confrontation with the old man, I stepped inside the gym and closed the door. Immediately I was overtaken by the scent of sweat that had been magnified with heat. While it was cold outside, the smell wasn’t diminished any. The place, even after five years, was still pretty familiar. So I felt the nearest wall and turned on a light switch. The ceiling became quickly illuminated and I was honestly surprised that after all these years, the electricity still worked. It made me wonder if maybe Amy had been paying the bills all these years to keep it going, even though no one would occupy it, just out of routine.
With the room fully lit, I walked around, soaking all of it in. My senses have gotten used to the scent of the sweat. Finally I came to it, the ring. The same ring that I had learned everything that I could possibly ever learn about the sport. I began to walk to it, and as I neared closer, it was like a flash back. There I saw in the ring, myself, at 15, wrestling with one of my training buddies. I thought to myself, is that Mark? Over top of us, noting our every move, was Robbie. I could hear him giving us instructions as we were rolling on the mat.
Robbie: Come on Josh, that’s it, now roll him thought! Mark you got to sprawl!! C’mon guys!!!! That’s it!!!!
I looked and saw my younger self pick Mark up and slam him to the mat. My younger self rolled through with an arm bar submission and Mark immediately tapped out. The next thing I knew I found myself in the ring. And Robbie was there, so was Mark, and the younger version of me. They were so real. I wanted to pause time and go back to that moment. But I couldn’t. Robbie stood Mark and I up and put his arm around both of us. He was speaking encouraging words all three of us exited the ring.
Robbie: That was a good workout guys. Josh, way to do smooth transitions to submissions. Mark, nice work on sprawling. You guys will be great on the show.
JD: You really think so?
Robbie: Without a doubt.
The three continued to walk and then slowly faded out……..
Just like that……………
Gone………….
I stood there in the middle of the ring. The flash back brought back a happy moment, that I needed in my life at this moment. A tear came to my eye, and the happy thought turned into sadness. I then started thinking about the car accident once again, not showing for his funeral, but it when I thought about Crimson Existence. The stupid mistake that I made, that cost me the match, that was when I couldn’t hold it any longer. I broke down in the middle of the ring, and cried. I cried because I felt that I had failed.
To Shawn Williams:
Webster’s Dictionary defines failure as being unsuccessful or lacking. It can also be defined as not meeting a desirable or intended objective. Personal means of a certain person. So I guess you can say that a personal failure is not meeting a certain persons intended objective. That defines what my loss at Crimson Existence was. A personal failure. I didn’t meet my desired objective, which was to win, and secure a spot on Felo De Se. A stupid mistake cost me. But there is another way to define a failure. My way. You see, I define a failure as a person who gives up after a setback, instead of using it as a learning tool to better themselves.
Shawn Williams, my opponent for this upcoming house show, you sir find yourself in the same scenario I do. You see at the Violent Uprising Preshow, you too were unsuccessful in your attempt to win a match. All be it the circumstances were different than in mine, the fact is, your loss can also be deemed a personal failure. But I don’t see you as a failure, no no that is not the case. I think that you are a wonderfully gifted athlete and I will tell you that to your face. But it seems to me that you are feeling the same effects I am.
What is going to separate us at this house show Shawn is which one of us is going to use their setback to help them. I know that I haven’t eaten, slept, or done a solitary thing but what film of Crimson Existence! I watched everything that went right, and everything that wrong. I’ve watched over the film enough to where I am sick of it!!
But at the same token, I have watched the film on you. I know what you can do when you are motivated to wrestle. I know your tendencies. But at the same time, I know what happens to you when things don’t start going your way. You panic. Well Shawn, at the house show, one of us is going to bounce back from defeat. One of us is going to take this setback and use it to make ourselves better. And at the house show Shawn, it will be me! Think about that because the Franchise has spoken!
Soaring Eagle’s Wrestling School. This place brings back some good memories. Almost five years ago was the last time I found myself in this place. I was a young 16 year old kid at the time. This was the school that my trainer, Robbie Eagle, took me in and molded me into a future legend of the wrestling business. I hadn’t had much in a father figure to look up to. My father before his and my mother’s death, was part of a gang and was gunned down in a drive by shooting. My aunt, never married. So Robbie and I were close, he was like a father to me. He helped me through those tough adolescent moments, showed my discipline, and taught me this wonderful craft.
Then one night five years ago, he was taken from my taken from me. It was a memory that has burned in my mind and haunts me to this day. A car crash, coming from a house show, ironically is what took his life. I was in the car with him. I watched him die. How traumatic do you think that must have been to a 15 year old that had already seen so many people in his life die. A mother, a father, an aunt, and a trainer. Sounds pretty traumatic.
Soon after, I got a letter in the mail. It was from Amy Eagle, Robbie’s widow. In the letter, she explained to me, that according to Robbie’s will and testament, I was to receive the rights of ownership of the school when I turned 18.
That day came, I turned 18, and I received in the mail, another letter, from Amy Eagle, the contents this time were composed of all the sets of keys to the building and the deed. She then put wrote this letter attachment and put it to the back of the deed.
Josh,
This was Robbie’s final will and testament, that you be given the gym and the school to run and own. He was hoping that you would use it to teach others, especially the troubled like how you used to be the same craft that Robbie taught you. I know you will make him proud.
I’m am closing this short letter by saying, the gym and the school is yours, because you are of age. It has been hanging over my head for three years and it is time. Always remember Robbie in your heart and know he is in heaven, watching over you.
Love,
Amy
Fast forward now to the present day. Monday, January 08, 2007. I found myself standing outside of Soaring Eagle’s Wrestling School. I had a couple of things with me. I had the deed to the property, and the set of keys to the building. The building has an aura of a run a muck urban slum. It wasn’t the same place that I once knew. The place I once knew, had pride, integrity, and vibrancy. It was as full of life as the man who ran it. But now, this same place was dull, colorless. It was almost like there was no life, no soul, and no passion anymore. It had become just as its surroundings, run down and vacant. When Robbie died, this school died.
As the school was without life, I too felt the same way. I felt in a solemn mood. It had been two weeks since Crimson Existence, where I lost the Gateway to Opportunity match. I had let it sink in, I had replayed the different scenarios in my head, much like I replay those final moments with my mentor, my father figure, my friend, in my head.
Why am I here? To be honest, I don’t know. I was in no shape to wrestle; I was in no shape to do anything, except sulk. In this moment, I wanted to sulk about many different things, but I was numb. Inside, my heart was hurting, and if I could, I’d run inside this building and hide from all the world, but on the outside, I was as numb as my skin as it was touched my the coldness of the January air.
I sat there, however and debated with myself on what to do. An old man came up to me. He looked rough and smelled rougher, like he was drenched in alcohol and hadn’t bathed in months. He approached me as he stared blankly at the building.
Old Man: This is a good school if you are wanting to be a rassler. I know the man who owns it, Ralphy is what I think his name is……
Robbie was his name. He died…five years ago.
The old man looked at me in silence. I don’t think he really knew whom he was talking to. And if did know who he was talking to, he is probably too drunk to recall it. He got up really close to me and in my face like he thought I was farther away than I was. At this point, I knew that this guy was like completely wasted. He tilted his head back and forth, probably so he could try to keep me in focus.
Old Man: So……..so…………who owns………..this place?
His speech had become more and more slurred as the alcohol had begun to set in pretty strongly by this point. He stared at me with that glazed over look, and I became more and more uncomfortable. But I decided to answer this belligerent old man’s question.
I do now. I have for about two years.
The old man looked puzzled, or maybe that was just the bottle of Jim Beam he had just finished setting in. I looked down and saw his feet moving. For a drunken man, his balance was almost decent.
Old Man: Wait……..you………look familiar……….are you from around here.
Yeah, I am.
I couldn’t believe that this old fool, even in the shape he was in, still couldn’t tell who I was. It hurt me honestly. I’ve been all around the world, loved by thousands upon thousands of fans, while this freeloader had no clue who I was. By this point, I actually was becoming a little annoyed by this old man. His stuttering and slurring, as well as the uncomfortable distance he was to me really began to weigh on me. I pulled the keys to the building out and unlocked the door. I began to open the door and walk inside, and I felt a grab on my left arm. It was the old man.
Old Man: Hey………I’m a homeless veteran…………can you loan me a dollar to get myself something to eat. Can you please?
I’m sorry, I’m broke.
I turned to walk away. Just then I was grabbed once again by the old man. This was getting ridiculous at this point. He got in my face again. That gazed stare, and that tilted head. The alcohol on his breath was unbearable. I couldn’t look him in the eyes at this point. I didn’t want to. I just had my fist clinched in a ball.
Old Man: Please man……….can you help me………….I’m…………..I’m homeless. I have so many problems……………and I need……….need help.
Without thinking, out of sheer frustration. I turned and punched the old man in the jaw. The force knocked him up against the wall and he fell lifelessly into sidewalk. I stood over top of him and looked down at him.
Everyone has their own problems, and their own failure.
After the quick confrontation with the old man, I stepped inside the gym and closed the door. Immediately I was overtaken by the scent of sweat that had been magnified with heat. While it was cold outside, the smell wasn’t diminished any. The place, even after five years, was still pretty familiar. So I felt the nearest wall and turned on a light switch. The ceiling became quickly illuminated and I was honestly surprised that after all these years, the electricity still worked. It made me wonder if maybe Amy had been paying the bills all these years to keep it going, even though no one would occupy it, just out of routine.
With the room fully lit, I walked around, soaking all of it in. My senses have gotten used to the scent of the sweat. Finally I came to it, the ring. The same ring that I had learned everything that I could possibly ever learn about the sport. I began to walk to it, and as I neared closer, it was like a flash back. There I saw in the ring, myself, at 15, wrestling with one of my training buddies. I thought to myself, is that Mark? Over top of us, noting our every move, was Robbie. I could hear him giving us instructions as we were rolling on the mat.
Robbie: Come on Josh, that’s it, now roll him thought! Mark you got to sprawl!! C’mon guys!!!! That’s it!!!!
I looked and saw my younger self pick Mark up and slam him to the mat. My younger self rolled through with an arm bar submission and Mark immediately tapped out. The next thing I knew I found myself in the ring. And Robbie was there, so was Mark, and the younger version of me. They were so real. I wanted to pause time and go back to that moment. But I couldn’t. Robbie stood Mark and I up and put his arm around both of us. He was speaking encouraging words all three of us exited the ring.
Robbie: That was a good workout guys. Josh, way to do smooth transitions to submissions. Mark, nice work on sprawling. You guys will be great on the show.
JD: You really think so?
Robbie: Without a doubt.
The three continued to walk and then slowly faded out……..
Just like that……………
Gone………….
I stood there in the middle of the ring. The flash back brought back a happy moment, that I needed in my life at this moment. A tear came to my eye, and the happy thought turned into sadness. I then started thinking about the car accident once again, not showing for his funeral, but it when I thought about Crimson Existence. The stupid mistake that I made, that cost me the match, that was when I couldn’t hold it any longer. I broke down in the middle of the ring, and cried. I cried because I felt that I had failed.
To Shawn Williams:
Webster’s Dictionary defines failure as being unsuccessful or lacking. It can also be defined as not meeting a desirable or intended objective. Personal means of a certain person. So I guess you can say that a personal failure is not meeting a certain persons intended objective. That defines what my loss at Crimson Existence was. A personal failure. I didn’t meet my desired objective, which was to win, and secure a spot on Felo De Se. A stupid mistake cost me. But there is another way to define a failure. My way. You see, I define a failure as a person who gives up after a setback, instead of using it as a learning tool to better themselves.
Shawn Williams, my opponent for this upcoming house show, you sir find yourself in the same scenario I do. You see at the Violent Uprising Preshow, you too were unsuccessful in your attempt to win a match. All be it the circumstances were different than in mine, the fact is, your loss can also be deemed a personal failure. But I don’t see you as a failure, no no that is not the case. I think that you are a wonderfully gifted athlete and I will tell you that to your face. But it seems to me that you are feeling the same effects I am.
What is going to separate us at this house show Shawn is which one of us is going to use their setback to help them. I know that I haven’t eaten, slept, or done a solitary thing but what film of Crimson Existence! I watched everything that went right, and everything that wrong. I’ve watched over the film enough to where I am sick of it!!
But at the same token, I have watched the film on you. I know what you can do when you are motivated to wrestle. I know your tendencies. But at the same time, I know what happens to you when things don’t start going your way. You panic. Well Shawn, at the house show, one of us is going to bounce back from defeat. One of us is going to take this setback and use it to make ourselves better. And at the house show Shawn, it will be me! Think about that because the Franchise has spoken!
