Post by stormm on Feb 2, 2006 2:11:41 GMT -5
I should be spending more time training, and watching film, getting to know my opponent!
That's what I've been told anyway. Despite the fact that I haven't had the time to do these things lately, I agree to some extent. Yes, that statement is true. So what am I to do about it?
Some have said I've been spending too much time at the office. This is true as well. I hope people understand my situation though. I am the Founder, the President, and the CEO of Havoc Entertainment, Inc. I couldn't just up and leave to go do my own thing, not after what all I had been doing business wise with my company for the last three years. But then again, I've finally got my way out.
Sure, Brian McCallister is barely ready to take on the responsibilities I've handed him, but he'll do fine with time. I've got hope he won't send Havoc Entertainment into debt, and that's why he's got the job.
I've spent the last month training him. The last month of flying back to Atlanta every week to do business has caused a couple of poor performances by myself inside of the ring. Needless to say, not bad, but not great either. I guess I could throw some blame at my partners for the couple of losses that my record has suffered, but I'm not that type of guy. It just shows that I need to work that much harder.
Then again, my next match isn't a tag match either; nor is it a triple threat, or a fatal four way. My next match, for the PCW World Championship, is one on one with Ace Anderson. I have to say, without trying to brag or anything, that singles competition is a whole different ball game when you step into the ring with me. Then again, I know that's something Ace, himself, would say as well.
So it goes without saying; it's going to be one hell of a match!
What's an out of retirement wrestler to do?
Back to basics!
It's been a long while since I've had the time to do what I found myself doing at this point in time. I was walking, well, jogging, down the streets of Atlanta on this day. It was a warm sixty degree day, and the sun was shining bright on this afternoon. In a pair of orange workout pants, and a plain white t-shirt, I noticed, while still jogging, that I was beginning to work up a sweat. It felt good.
Any normal person who saw me on this day, however, would have thought the same. "He's just going on a casual jog in great weather." They couldn't be farther from the truth. Although a workout is what I intended, jogging wasn't even close to being how I wanted to work out. I was jogging down the streets in hopes of something. I was looking for one thing in particular, and I was hoping it was still there. At least one of them, anyway.
A few more blocks, and a slightly more drenched with sweat shirt later, I found myself stopping outside of a familiar building. A building I had not seen in quite some time. To be honest, it was a building I hadn't seen since 1998. The brick building looked as if it was close to caving in, a sight that confused me at the moment. I was actual unsure if it was still occupied or not. As I approached the door, though, a dirty "Open" sign in the window, along with the glare of dim lights inside told me otherwise.
The sign on the door read "Mo's Wrestling Academy" and the letters were starting to fall off. I figured, what the hell, might as well go in. After all, it was where I first started to train.
Walking through to front door, I immediately became uncomfortable with the place I once spent every day of my life. It wasn't the smell of sweat, or the poor lighting that gave me this feeling, though. It was the quick reaction of the handful of people inside to start staring at me that gave me this uneasy feeling. The layout of the building was still the same as I remember it, as well. You walk straight into the gym, the weight room if you will. The wrestling ring was in a separate area of the building all together.
On the opposite wall from the entrance, I also noticed something interesting. It was a mural of me in wrestling gear. But the mural had heavy graffiti over it, a sign that maybe some hard feelings towards me were felt by some.
As I meandered into the gym area, all of those participating in their workouts stopped, and began to approach me. 'Hey, isn't that, you know?' I heard one of them try to ask under their breath to another.
'Yeah, I think so.' The other answered back.
I came to a stop in the middle of the gym area, and a half circle had been made around me by about eight guys. Which, surprising enough, was probably the most people that had even been in this place at one time. 'Afternoon boys.' I said to them all. Nothing followed but a few random groans. I nodded my head and made an "I feel less than welcome" face towards them all. I pointed to the back wall. 'That's a nice painting you guys have in here.' I followed it with a short laugh, but the conversation wasn't going anywhere.
I looked around the place once more, uncomfortably this time, and the deafening silence was broken by one of the youngest looking students to this academy here at the moment. 'You really think you belong here right now?' He asked.
To be honest, I thought I did. Then again, I didn't. Since my time at Mo's, eight years ago, I had become, well, very popular, and my pocket book was basically bottomless at this point in time. I could have gone to any gym in the state, in the country, in the world, but I found myself coming back here, the place I started in. I may have been different than these eight guys, but I was also just the same. I, at one point, was just like them. Looking for my place in life, and hoping to make it. I was basically living proof to these young individuals that their dreams could come true. They obviously had something against me.
I nodded my head to young one. 'I do, and I don't. I won't lie to you. Then again, I don't know why you all think I don't belong.' My statement was followed by a few more groans.
The one, who had spoken to me, backed off, was pushed away basically, by the obvious leader of this misfit academy I once went through. He was fairly large, but looked like one of those people who wouldn't know how to use the strength they were given. He decided he'd take his shot at me verbally. 'You have no idea what you had done to this academy at one time, do you?' He asked, his facial expression telling me it must have been bad. I shook my head, and he did too. He continued. 'Well, I know one person who could tell you what you did, but I think if he saw you, he'd have a heart attack.' He finished, before standing back in the group.
I looked across the faces of the young aspiring wrestlers, and smiled. 'Well, I guess if I did something that bad, I want to hear it from Mo himself. If you'll excuse me.' I said as I took a couple steps towards the group. They didn't budge.
I looked at them, and they stared daggers back. 'The wrestling ring is in the other room, in case you've forgotten.' One of them said. I wasn't sure who, though; I wasn't looking at him as he spoke. 'Mo is always by the ring.' He spoke once more.
'Thanks for the info, bud. It's kind of hard to forget those things, though. Especially when you are a part of a place like this for the couple years that I was. But yeah, thanks anyway.' I said, and this time the group parted, and let me pass. I began walking towards the door to where the magic happened. The room with the ring.
'Come on you two, haven't I taught you anything?!' An old man asked, while yelling, as his words were directed towards two young individuals standing inside of a run down looking wrestling ring. The canvas to it was stained an awful yellow, and this room smelled worse than the front weight area. I peaked through the door into the room and witnessed the teachings. 'You've got to throw your hips, or the move won't work! And you; if you don't try and break your fall with your hand and arm, its just going to hurt you worse, and you'll never last ten minutes in the ring. Hell! You'd never make it to the big time!' He continued. 'Now start it all over, regular pace, and get it right, or you both of your ring time is limited for the next week!' He finished.
I giggled from the door way, still peaking through. The old man, Monty Miller, had been running this gym for quite some time. Nothing had been replaced since he opened it, and it never would from what I gathered. This was yet another thing that concerned me about the place. Monty, or Mo as he is called for short, walked over to a small bench and sat down to watch the two youngsters in the ring. I could hear him talk under his breath, however. 'What am I talking about? I've only had one make it anywhere after training him. Why do I even bother anymore?' He said, and this brought a smile to my face. The smile that would last all of thirty seconds.
I finally opened the door all the way, and stepped through into the ring room. I started walking towards Mo, and I noticed his eyes get really wide as he looked at me. 'Mo, how have you been?!' I asked, hoping what the guys out in the weight room were saying wasn't true.
His face turned the brightest shade of red I've ever seen a face turn before, and he approached me at a fast pace. 'You no good, slimy, back stabbing son of a bitch!' He yelled as his seventy-something year old right fist landed solid on my left cheek.
The blow would knock me back a few steps, but that’s it. I shook my head to get my thoughts back, and I realized that I must have done something wrong. 'Jesus Mo, what's the deal?' I asked, confused as Hell. I looked at the two in the ring, who had since stopped their workout.
He came at me again, but stopped. 'My deal is you! You young sell out punk!' He exclaimed. 'You took nothing from me after signing with wherever it was that you signed! You saw the dollar signs and took off!' He continued. 'Then when you thought you'd be even more of a nice guy by sending me money to help fix this place up, I had had enough of your crap!' He finished loudly.
I shook my head. 'That was genuinely what I sent that to you for. A thank you for what you had given me.' I said back to him.
He laughed at me, the most evil and uncaring laugh I had heard in a while. 'I wipe my ass with that money everyday I hope you know. Yeah, after I purchased the services of a local artist to paint that bullshit mural of you for everyone to spit on and paint over on their own time, I took the rest to the bank, and I withdraw once in a while, all one, so I can clean my ass off when I use the bathroom.' He graphically explained to me. He even had the mind to use actions of having a dollar bill in his hand, and pretended to wipe his old butt with it. 'Your money is no good here, and neither are you. You are nothing but a face in the profession anymore. You aren't in it for the sport; you are in it for the money. You sell out!' He continued to yell.
I could do nothing but shake my head. 'You tell him Mo!' One of the young wrestlers yelled.
Mo then got one of the biggest smiles on his face that I had remembered seeing. He pointed to the two inside of the ring, and I noticed them get smiles on their faces too. 'You see those two young bucks over there?' He asked as he started to approach me. 'I bet the renovation of my gym that you've lost sight of the sport, and that those two young ones in there could whoop you six ways sideways right now.' He said. 'And by chance you do come out on top, I'll be glad to use the rest of the money you gave me to renovate the inside of this place, and maybe outside too. But you've got a lot to prove to make me think you'll be what you once where. Either way, I still think Ace Anderson is going to kick your ass this Sunday.' He finished.
I had already started walking towards the ring, but this had stopped me dead in my tracks. I had already started to get upset with the guy for accusing me of selling out. Not to mention him thinking I had lost sight of who I was, or where I came from. I knew exactly who I was; it's obvious the old age of this guy had made him see past all that I had actually done. Oh, and must we forget that I tore the quad in my left leg... TWICE! Never-the-less, I smiled at Mo one last time before pulling my white t-shirt off, leaving just my orange work out pants on, and sliding under the bottom rope into the ring.
It didn't take long for the two youngsters to come at me, though. You would expect two on one to be a tough one, but it's nothing really if you know what you are doing. These two were pounding away, but not anywhere that affected me too much, and I was able to escape quickly after a quick elbow to one of their guts, followed up by a knife edge chop across the other's chest. This gave me enough time to run across the ring, bounce off the ropes, and back towards them where I left the ground, and connected with a double forearm shot to both of them. That's when it all went downhill for them.
One quickly got to his feet, but was met with a boot to his midsection by yours truly. The inexperience of this one, plus the fact I knew him to be the one who couldn't control taking lesser blows in high impact moves, left him vulnerable to the Force of Nature right off the bat. I quickly grabbed him in a suplex position, and hooked one of his legs. I hoisted him into the air, and quickly planted him back onto the mat. He landed on his neck and upper back, and he quickly grabbed that area and rolled out of the ring with sounds of pain coming from him. It was evident he had made the landing worse for himself, and he was out of the equation.
At this point the remaining youngster had made it to his feet. 'You bastard, you won't make it through me.' He said as he charged me. Now this seems logical to someone who hasn't learned anything yet. You can't just come after someone and expect to come out of it successful. Careful planning and strategy are important. The fifty seconds he was out of commission wasn't long enough for him to plan anything out, and it would hurt him. I side stepped him, he hit the ropes and bounced back and tried for a flying close line that I easily avoided, and he hit the mat. I quickly jumped on top of him with a few stomps to his lower back and ribs. Then, with his inexperience, instead of trying to get away, he grasped the affected areas in pain. I quickly went for the kill by grabbing both legs, and slapped in a sharpshooter.
As I crouched down, causing more pain for the young wrestler, I made sure I was facing Mo. He was sitting on his little bench with both hands on his head, and a small smile on his face. I called out to him. 'I could care less who thinks Ace Anderson is going to beat me at Mass Destruction. What counts is that I am confident in myself. One thing needed to be successful. That thing just happens to be...' I wasn't allowed to finish.
Mo took over for the saying, a saying he has taught for years. 'Self confidence.' He shook his head.
I finally released the sharpshooter, too. The young man had been tapping out long enough. As I released the hold, he curled up into a ball and almost started to cry. I exited the ring and approached Mo. 'Yes, self confidence. Something I don't lack, but also something I don't have too much of like Mr. Anderson, himself, does.' I said to Mo as I crept closer to his current position. 'Now, Mo, although my pocket book may have a large number in it, I want you to know one thing, I have no lost sight of what I want out of myself at the end of the day. You can be sure that it has nothing to do with dollar signs!' I blurted out. 'It also has nothing to do with any sort of metal around my waste.' I continued. 'It has everything to do with how I feel here.' I pounded on my sweaty chest, right where my heart would be inside of my body. 'I come back here just to say hi, you know, see how things are going, and I get greeted like this. I've meant nothing but good things by doing what I've done, so I hope it all changes around here.' I finished up. Mo's face had turned from anger to that of slight happiness.
He grabbed me, and pulled me to him as he started to laugh. 'I knew it!' He blurted out. 'I knew there was more to you than what met the eye. I didn't want to believe what others had said, but I got caught up in it.' He continued on.
I smiled. 'Well that's good.' I said to him
He grabbed me tighter, almost uncomfortably now, physically and mentally. 'There's just one thing, though.' He said. 'I'll renovate like you want me too...' Just then, something I hadn't expected came, an old boney knee to my crotch. 'But I'll never trust your words like you just did mine ever again!' He called out. 'You may be giving me a new gym, but you are still losing on Sunday to Ace Anderson.' He explained. I was on the ground, curled up in a ball of my own this time, grabbing my groin, when I noticed both young participants begin to hover over me. 'Get this sack of shit out of here. Take him out into the ally or something. I hope he's learned a valuable lesson here today. Oh, and when you are done, we need to have a meeting out in the gym.' Mo had said to the two.
The two grabbed me, hoisted me into the air, and began to carry me towards the back door that lead to the alley way. I got off one last comment. 'You've always been an old bastard, Mo, but you sure do know how to motivate a guy.' I finished as the door was opened, and I was thrown out into the ally. Before the door closed on me all the way, I noticed a couple things. One being the big smile on Mo's face as I looked back in.
The second thing? Well, that would be the words out of his mouth. 'Well guys; now I sure do feel sorry for Ace Ander...' His words trailed off as the metal door slammed shut.
Motivation I already had, but you can never have too much motivation behind you going into a match like mine at Mass Destruction.
I knew Mo always wanted to see me succeed, but he had always had the most messed up ways to help me out. Help anyone out for that matter.
Lesson learned, though. Look further inside yourself in times when you need the motivation for anything. You'll be amazed at what you can find, as well as what can motivate you to knowing everything can go your way.
I just wish he had left the nut shot out of the equation today.
That's what I've been told anyway. Despite the fact that I haven't had the time to do these things lately, I agree to some extent. Yes, that statement is true. So what am I to do about it?
Some have said I've been spending too much time at the office. This is true as well. I hope people understand my situation though. I am the Founder, the President, and the CEO of Havoc Entertainment, Inc. I couldn't just up and leave to go do my own thing, not after what all I had been doing business wise with my company for the last three years. But then again, I've finally got my way out.
Sure, Brian McCallister is barely ready to take on the responsibilities I've handed him, but he'll do fine with time. I've got hope he won't send Havoc Entertainment into debt, and that's why he's got the job.
I've spent the last month training him. The last month of flying back to Atlanta every week to do business has caused a couple of poor performances by myself inside of the ring. Needless to say, not bad, but not great either. I guess I could throw some blame at my partners for the couple of losses that my record has suffered, but I'm not that type of guy. It just shows that I need to work that much harder.
Then again, my next match isn't a tag match either; nor is it a triple threat, or a fatal four way. My next match, for the PCW World Championship, is one on one with Ace Anderson. I have to say, without trying to brag or anything, that singles competition is a whole different ball game when you step into the ring with me. Then again, I know that's something Ace, himself, would say as well.
So it goes without saying; it's going to be one hell of a match!
What's an out of retirement wrestler to do?
Back to basics!
--------------------------------------
It's been a long while since I've had the time to do what I found myself doing at this point in time. I was walking, well, jogging, down the streets of Atlanta on this day. It was a warm sixty degree day, and the sun was shining bright on this afternoon. In a pair of orange workout pants, and a plain white t-shirt, I noticed, while still jogging, that I was beginning to work up a sweat. It felt good.
Any normal person who saw me on this day, however, would have thought the same. "He's just going on a casual jog in great weather." They couldn't be farther from the truth. Although a workout is what I intended, jogging wasn't even close to being how I wanted to work out. I was jogging down the streets in hopes of something. I was looking for one thing in particular, and I was hoping it was still there. At least one of them, anyway.
A few more blocks, and a slightly more drenched with sweat shirt later, I found myself stopping outside of a familiar building. A building I had not seen in quite some time. To be honest, it was a building I hadn't seen since 1998. The brick building looked as if it was close to caving in, a sight that confused me at the moment. I was actual unsure if it was still occupied or not. As I approached the door, though, a dirty "Open" sign in the window, along with the glare of dim lights inside told me otherwise.
The sign on the door read "Mo's Wrestling Academy" and the letters were starting to fall off. I figured, what the hell, might as well go in. After all, it was where I first started to train.
Walking through to front door, I immediately became uncomfortable with the place I once spent every day of my life. It wasn't the smell of sweat, or the poor lighting that gave me this feeling, though. It was the quick reaction of the handful of people inside to start staring at me that gave me this uneasy feeling. The layout of the building was still the same as I remember it, as well. You walk straight into the gym, the weight room if you will. The wrestling ring was in a separate area of the building all together.
On the opposite wall from the entrance, I also noticed something interesting. It was a mural of me in wrestling gear. But the mural had heavy graffiti over it, a sign that maybe some hard feelings towards me were felt by some.
As I meandered into the gym area, all of those participating in their workouts stopped, and began to approach me. 'Hey, isn't that, you know?' I heard one of them try to ask under their breath to another.
'Yeah, I think so.' The other answered back.
I came to a stop in the middle of the gym area, and a half circle had been made around me by about eight guys. Which, surprising enough, was probably the most people that had even been in this place at one time. 'Afternoon boys.' I said to them all. Nothing followed but a few random groans. I nodded my head and made an "I feel less than welcome" face towards them all. I pointed to the back wall. 'That's a nice painting you guys have in here.' I followed it with a short laugh, but the conversation wasn't going anywhere.
I looked around the place once more, uncomfortably this time, and the deafening silence was broken by one of the youngest looking students to this academy here at the moment. 'You really think you belong here right now?' He asked.
To be honest, I thought I did. Then again, I didn't. Since my time at Mo's, eight years ago, I had become, well, very popular, and my pocket book was basically bottomless at this point in time. I could have gone to any gym in the state, in the country, in the world, but I found myself coming back here, the place I started in. I may have been different than these eight guys, but I was also just the same. I, at one point, was just like them. Looking for my place in life, and hoping to make it. I was basically living proof to these young individuals that their dreams could come true. They obviously had something against me.
I nodded my head to young one. 'I do, and I don't. I won't lie to you. Then again, I don't know why you all think I don't belong.' My statement was followed by a few more groans.
The one, who had spoken to me, backed off, was pushed away basically, by the obvious leader of this misfit academy I once went through. He was fairly large, but looked like one of those people who wouldn't know how to use the strength they were given. He decided he'd take his shot at me verbally. 'You have no idea what you had done to this academy at one time, do you?' He asked, his facial expression telling me it must have been bad. I shook my head, and he did too. He continued. 'Well, I know one person who could tell you what you did, but I think if he saw you, he'd have a heart attack.' He finished, before standing back in the group.
I looked across the faces of the young aspiring wrestlers, and smiled. 'Well, I guess if I did something that bad, I want to hear it from Mo himself. If you'll excuse me.' I said as I took a couple steps towards the group. They didn't budge.
I looked at them, and they stared daggers back. 'The wrestling ring is in the other room, in case you've forgotten.' One of them said. I wasn't sure who, though; I wasn't looking at him as he spoke. 'Mo is always by the ring.' He spoke once more.
'Thanks for the info, bud. It's kind of hard to forget those things, though. Especially when you are a part of a place like this for the couple years that I was. But yeah, thanks anyway.' I said, and this time the group parted, and let me pass. I began walking towards the door to where the magic happened. The room with the ring.
--------------------------------------
'Come on you two, haven't I taught you anything?!' An old man asked, while yelling, as his words were directed towards two young individuals standing inside of a run down looking wrestling ring. The canvas to it was stained an awful yellow, and this room smelled worse than the front weight area. I peaked through the door into the room and witnessed the teachings. 'You've got to throw your hips, or the move won't work! And you; if you don't try and break your fall with your hand and arm, its just going to hurt you worse, and you'll never last ten minutes in the ring. Hell! You'd never make it to the big time!' He continued. 'Now start it all over, regular pace, and get it right, or you both of your ring time is limited for the next week!' He finished.
I giggled from the door way, still peaking through. The old man, Monty Miller, had been running this gym for quite some time. Nothing had been replaced since he opened it, and it never would from what I gathered. This was yet another thing that concerned me about the place. Monty, or Mo as he is called for short, walked over to a small bench and sat down to watch the two youngsters in the ring. I could hear him talk under his breath, however. 'What am I talking about? I've only had one make it anywhere after training him. Why do I even bother anymore?' He said, and this brought a smile to my face. The smile that would last all of thirty seconds.
I finally opened the door all the way, and stepped through into the ring room. I started walking towards Mo, and I noticed his eyes get really wide as he looked at me. 'Mo, how have you been?!' I asked, hoping what the guys out in the weight room were saying wasn't true.
His face turned the brightest shade of red I've ever seen a face turn before, and he approached me at a fast pace. 'You no good, slimy, back stabbing son of a bitch!' He yelled as his seventy-something year old right fist landed solid on my left cheek.
The blow would knock me back a few steps, but that’s it. I shook my head to get my thoughts back, and I realized that I must have done something wrong. 'Jesus Mo, what's the deal?' I asked, confused as Hell. I looked at the two in the ring, who had since stopped their workout.
He came at me again, but stopped. 'My deal is you! You young sell out punk!' He exclaimed. 'You took nothing from me after signing with wherever it was that you signed! You saw the dollar signs and took off!' He continued. 'Then when you thought you'd be even more of a nice guy by sending me money to help fix this place up, I had had enough of your crap!' He finished loudly.
I shook my head. 'That was genuinely what I sent that to you for. A thank you for what you had given me.' I said back to him.
He laughed at me, the most evil and uncaring laugh I had heard in a while. 'I wipe my ass with that money everyday I hope you know. Yeah, after I purchased the services of a local artist to paint that bullshit mural of you for everyone to spit on and paint over on their own time, I took the rest to the bank, and I withdraw once in a while, all one, so I can clean my ass off when I use the bathroom.' He graphically explained to me. He even had the mind to use actions of having a dollar bill in his hand, and pretended to wipe his old butt with it. 'Your money is no good here, and neither are you. You are nothing but a face in the profession anymore. You aren't in it for the sport; you are in it for the money. You sell out!' He continued to yell.
I could do nothing but shake my head. 'You tell him Mo!' One of the young wrestlers yelled.
Mo then got one of the biggest smiles on his face that I had remembered seeing. He pointed to the two inside of the ring, and I noticed them get smiles on their faces too. 'You see those two young bucks over there?' He asked as he started to approach me. 'I bet the renovation of my gym that you've lost sight of the sport, and that those two young ones in there could whoop you six ways sideways right now.' He said. 'And by chance you do come out on top, I'll be glad to use the rest of the money you gave me to renovate the inside of this place, and maybe outside too. But you've got a lot to prove to make me think you'll be what you once where. Either way, I still think Ace Anderson is going to kick your ass this Sunday.' He finished.
I had already started walking towards the ring, but this had stopped me dead in my tracks. I had already started to get upset with the guy for accusing me of selling out. Not to mention him thinking I had lost sight of who I was, or where I came from. I knew exactly who I was; it's obvious the old age of this guy had made him see past all that I had actually done. Oh, and must we forget that I tore the quad in my left leg... TWICE! Never-the-less, I smiled at Mo one last time before pulling my white t-shirt off, leaving just my orange work out pants on, and sliding under the bottom rope into the ring.
It didn't take long for the two youngsters to come at me, though. You would expect two on one to be a tough one, but it's nothing really if you know what you are doing. These two were pounding away, but not anywhere that affected me too much, and I was able to escape quickly after a quick elbow to one of their guts, followed up by a knife edge chop across the other's chest. This gave me enough time to run across the ring, bounce off the ropes, and back towards them where I left the ground, and connected with a double forearm shot to both of them. That's when it all went downhill for them.
One quickly got to his feet, but was met with a boot to his midsection by yours truly. The inexperience of this one, plus the fact I knew him to be the one who couldn't control taking lesser blows in high impact moves, left him vulnerable to the Force of Nature right off the bat. I quickly grabbed him in a suplex position, and hooked one of his legs. I hoisted him into the air, and quickly planted him back onto the mat. He landed on his neck and upper back, and he quickly grabbed that area and rolled out of the ring with sounds of pain coming from him. It was evident he had made the landing worse for himself, and he was out of the equation.
At this point the remaining youngster had made it to his feet. 'You bastard, you won't make it through me.' He said as he charged me. Now this seems logical to someone who hasn't learned anything yet. You can't just come after someone and expect to come out of it successful. Careful planning and strategy are important. The fifty seconds he was out of commission wasn't long enough for him to plan anything out, and it would hurt him. I side stepped him, he hit the ropes and bounced back and tried for a flying close line that I easily avoided, and he hit the mat. I quickly jumped on top of him with a few stomps to his lower back and ribs. Then, with his inexperience, instead of trying to get away, he grasped the affected areas in pain. I quickly went for the kill by grabbing both legs, and slapped in a sharpshooter.
As I crouched down, causing more pain for the young wrestler, I made sure I was facing Mo. He was sitting on his little bench with both hands on his head, and a small smile on his face. I called out to him. 'I could care less who thinks Ace Anderson is going to beat me at Mass Destruction. What counts is that I am confident in myself. One thing needed to be successful. That thing just happens to be...' I wasn't allowed to finish.
Mo took over for the saying, a saying he has taught for years. 'Self confidence.' He shook his head.
I finally released the sharpshooter, too. The young man had been tapping out long enough. As I released the hold, he curled up into a ball and almost started to cry. I exited the ring and approached Mo. 'Yes, self confidence. Something I don't lack, but also something I don't have too much of like Mr. Anderson, himself, does.' I said to Mo as I crept closer to his current position. 'Now, Mo, although my pocket book may have a large number in it, I want you to know one thing, I have no lost sight of what I want out of myself at the end of the day. You can be sure that it has nothing to do with dollar signs!' I blurted out. 'It also has nothing to do with any sort of metal around my waste.' I continued. 'It has everything to do with how I feel here.' I pounded on my sweaty chest, right where my heart would be inside of my body. 'I come back here just to say hi, you know, see how things are going, and I get greeted like this. I've meant nothing but good things by doing what I've done, so I hope it all changes around here.' I finished up. Mo's face had turned from anger to that of slight happiness.
He grabbed me, and pulled me to him as he started to laugh. 'I knew it!' He blurted out. 'I knew there was more to you than what met the eye. I didn't want to believe what others had said, but I got caught up in it.' He continued on.
I smiled. 'Well that's good.' I said to him
He grabbed me tighter, almost uncomfortably now, physically and mentally. 'There's just one thing, though.' He said. 'I'll renovate like you want me too...' Just then, something I hadn't expected came, an old boney knee to my crotch. 'But I'll never trust your words like you just did mine ever again!' He called out. 'You may be giving me a new gym, but you are still losing on Sunday to Ace Anderson.' He explained. I was on the ground, curled up in a ball of my own this time, grabbing my groin, when I noticed both young participants begin to hover over me. 'Get this sack of shit out of here. Take him out into the ally or something. I hope he's learned a valuable lesson here today. Oh, and when you are done, we need to have a meeting out in the gym.' Mo had said to the two.
The two grabbed me, hoisted me into the air, and began to carry me towards the back door that lead to the alley way. I got off one last comment. 'You've always been an old bastard, Mo, but you sure do know how to motivate a guy.' I finished as the door was opened, and I was thrown out into the ally. Before the door closed on me all the way, I noticed a couple things. One being the big smile on Mo's face as I looked back in.
The second thing? Well, that would be the words out of his mouth. 'Well guys; now I sure do feel sorry for Ace Ander...' His words trailed off as the metal door slammed shut.
Motivation I already had, but you can never have too much motivation behind you going into a match like mine at Mass Destruction.
I knew Mo always wanted to see me succeed, but he had always had the most messed up ways to help me out. Help anyone out for that matter.
Lesson learned, though. Look further inside yourself in times when you need the motivation for anything. You'll be amazed at what you can find, as well as what can motivate you to knowing everything can go your way.
I just wish he had left the nut shot out of the equation today.