Post by Rick Majors on Feb 15, 2014 21:38:37 GMT -5
The room is dark. One would assume that there are light fixtures in this room and that there is electricity flowing to those fixtures, but the lights are all off. The only thing preventing it from being pitch black is the moonlight coming in through the window. It is that moonlight that makes it possible to see Rick Majors sitting on the floor of his living room. He’s staring directly at one of the walls. He’s alone. And he’s talking to himself.
They told me I couldn't show up at Trauma. They said I was too injured. They said I wasn't medically cleared. They said that I was an insurance liability and a risk and that the beating I suffered at the hands of NCM was too much. I needed time to recover. They wanted me to rest. They wanted me to go to the hospital. They didn't want me to risk my career or my life.
So I showed up at Trauma.
They're not going to take this away from me. NCM is not going to take this away from me. This is the one thing I have left. I have no friends. I have no family. There's a good chance that I no longer have my sanity. But I have professional wrestling. I may have to clutch onto it for dear life, but I have it. And I'm not losing it. Not again. It's been taken from me against my will once before, but it won't be again. No, if I'm going to give it up, this time it's going to be on my terms. And I'm not ready to do that yet.
I didn't go out there because I have anything against Saniti. I didn't go out there because the Freebooters asked me to. I wasn't there to prove a point or cement an alliance or to hurt someone. I was there because they told that that I couldn't be.
I've never been the strongest guy. Or the toughest. Or the fastest. Or the smartest. I haven't had success in this industry because I'm especially talented. I've succeeded because I've done things that no one else would do. I fought guys who were bigger than me. I fought guys who were stronger than me. I went up against odds that were rarely in my favour. I broke my neck and still went out to the ring again and again and again and again. That's why I survived. Because I did what I wasn't supposed to do. I’m not supposed to be here. My ridiculous insistence on doing the opposite of what is expected from me is the only reason I'm here.
And that's why I'm looking forward to facing Kelli Starr on Trauma.
One of the biggest taboos that still exists in society is men competing against women in athletic competition. It rarely happens and when it does it's a big deal. But it happens relatively often in wrestling. Now I could say that competing against Kelli Starr is another example of me doing what I'm not supposed to do. But it's not. Management wants me to fight her. The industry wants me to fight her. I assume that she wants me to fight her. So why should I do it? Why do I want to do it? Why do I need to do it?
Because no one actually expects me to win.
Kelli is, pardon the pun, a star in PCW. That’s especially true when you compare her to Rick Majors. She’s younger. She’s faster. She’s smarter. She’s energetic. She has a better personality. She’s a former champion. She’s everything that I’m not. And she’s beaten me before. It’s no wonder that no one expects me to be successful against her.
Kelli’s too good for me.
I’m an old man. I'm injured. I'm erratic. I'm slow and I'm weak. All of my many, many flaws are among the reasons why I’m not expected to be successful in my match against Kelli Starr. I'm a bitter, jaded man. I’ve lost grip on reality. I’m talking to myself right now and, honestly, I don’t care. It’s better than sitting in silence. I lash out at the world for my own failures. I have a desperate need to prove myself to people who don’t care about me. I’m a disaster. That’s why she walked out on me. That’s why she’s living with her mother. That’s why her sister came to the house when I wasn’t home and picked up a lot of her things, leaving a note that was dripping with anger. That’s why I haven’t spoken to her in months.
Kelly’s too good for me.
She’s intelligent and kind and loving. She’s strong and brave and dedicated. She’s supportive and understanding and rational. She’s everything that I’m not. It’s no wonder that she is probably gone for good.
I’m not supposed to be here. My ridiculous insistence on staying in this industry is the only reason I'm still here. Otherwise, there would be no reason for me to continue. Not without her.
That’s why I have to keep doing this. That’s why I have to show up when I shouldn’t. That’s why I have to do what they tell me not to. And that’s why I have to beat Kelli Starr on Trauma. That's why I have to succeed. If I fail at the only thing left in my life, why did I try so hard to keep it?
And why didn’t I put the same effort into everything else? Why didn’t I put the same effort into her? Into us? What was I thinking?
Rick Majors places his head into his hands now. After several seconds, it becomes obvious that he is sobbing. He remains that way for quite some time before quietly speaking once more.
I think it better when I felt nothing.
They told me I couldn't show up at Trauma. They said I was too injured. They said I wasn't medically cleared. They said that I was an insurance liability and a risk and that the beating I suffered at the hands of NCM was too much. I needed time to recover. They wanted me to rest. They wanted me to go to the hospital. They didn't want me to risk my career or my life.
So I showed up at Trauma.
They're not going to take this away from me. NCM is not going to take this away from me. This is the one thing I have left. I have no friends. I have no family. There's a good chance that I no longer have my sanity. But I have professional wrestling. I may have to clutch onto it for dear life, but I have it. And I'm not losing it. Not again. It's been taken from me against my will once before, but it won't be again. No, if I'm going to give it up, this time it's going to be on my terms. And I'm not ready to do that yet.
I didn't go out there because I have anything against Saniti. I didn't go out there because the Freebooters asked me to. I wasn't there to prove a point or cement an alliance or to hurt someone. I was there because they told that that I couldn't be.
I've never been the strongest guy. Or the toughest. Or the fastest. Or the smartest. I haven't had success in this industry because I'm especially talented. I've succeeded because I've done things that no one else would do. I fought guys who were bigger than me. I fought guys who were stronger than me. I went up against odds that were rarely in my favour. I broke my neck and still went out to the ring again and again and again and again. That's why I survived. Because I did what I wasn't supposed to do. I’m not supposed to be here. My ridiculous insistence on doing the opposite of what is expected from me is the only reason I'm here.
And that's why I'm looking forward to facing Kelli Starr on Trauma.
One of the biggest taboos that still exists in society is men competing against women in athletic competition. It rarely happens and when it does it's a big deal. But it happens relatively often in wrestling. Now I could say that competing against Kelli Starr is another example of me doing what I'm not supposed to do. But it's not. Management wants me to fight her. The industry wants me to fight her. I assume that she wants me to fight her. So why should I do it? Why do I want to do it? Why do I need to do it?
Because no one actually expects me to win.
Kelli is, pardon the pun, a star in PCW. That’s especially true when you compare her to Rick Majors. She’s younger. She’s faster. She’s smarter. She’s energetic. She has a better personality. She’s a former champion. She’s everything that I’m not. And she’s beaten me before. It’s no wonder that no one expects me to be successful against her.
Kelli’s too good for me.
I’m an old man. I'm injured. I'm erratic. I'm slow and I'm weak. All of my many, many flaws are among the reasons why I’m not expected to be successful in my match against Kelli Starr. I'm a bitter, jaded man. I’ve lost grip on reality. I’m talking to myself right now and, honestly, I don’t care. It’s better than sitting in silence. I lash out at the world for my own failures. I have a desperate need to prove myself to people who don’t care about me. I’m a disaster. That’s why she walked out on me. That’s why she’s living with her mother. That’s why her sister came to the house when I wasn’t home and picked up a lot of her things, leaving a note that was dripping with anger. That’s why I haven’t spoken to her in months.
Kelly’s too good for me.
She’s intelligent and kind and loving. She’s strong and brave and dedicated. She’s supportive and understanding and rational. She’s everything that I’m not. It’s no wonder that she is probably gone for good.
I’m not supposed to be here. My ridiculous insistence on staying in this industry is the only reason I'm still here. Otherwise, there would be no reason for me to continue. Not without her.
That’s why I have to keep doing this. That’s why I have to show up when I shouldn’t. That’s why I have to do what they tell me not to. And that’s why I have to beat Kelli Starr on Trauma. That's why I have to succeed. If I fail at the only thing left in my life, why did I try so hard to keep it?
And why didn’t I put the same effort into everything else? Why didn’t I put the same effort into her? Into us? What was I thinking?
Rick Majors places his head into his hands now. After several seconds, it becomes obvious that he is sobbing. He remains that way for quite some time before quietly speaking once more.
I think it better when I felt nothing.