Post by Stephen Singh on Dec 19, 2021 14:48:12 GMT -5
What the fuck am I doing here?
That’s the question, right? Not my question, but yours. But instead of “I” you’re saying “you.” But you mean “you” as in me.
Shit. This is not a great start. Let’s regroup.
You (as in you) are probably asking yourself (as in yourself), “What is HE (as in me) doing here (as in Action Wrestling)?” There we go, clear as Pepsi.
Crystal Pepsi. That’s what I meant, Crystal Pepsi.
Good goddamn can I possibly be this out of practice? Apparently so.
So maybe I haven’t spoken like this in awhile, maybe I haven’t directly addressed people whose only real import to me is whether or not I can put their two shoulders down for three shakes of a donkey dick. In another lifetime, those were the only people I ever treated with any sort of import. My heart, mind, and soul were consumed by whatever poor sap’s name was across from mine that week and exactly what I could do to humiliate them–or at the very least beat them.
I had a mother, a brother, a girlfriend, friends but all I gave a shit about was whoever was going to stand across that ring from me.
Okay, “friends” was probably a lie. Just like Friends was a lie. No one has those apartments in New York. And no way Joey and Rachel only fuck once. Be serious.
Dammit. Keep it short, they told me. You’re a cruiser, the airtime is proportional to the average competitor height. And here I am again thinking about what a better show it could’ve been with something TRULY revolutionary like, oh I don’t know, one black person. Shout out to CJ Phoenix for being the only dollop of fudge in that vanilla sundae of a Champions list that Action Wrestling has.
I digress. Back to the question at hand:
What the fuck am I doing here?
This is where I tell you that I’m here to smash your face into a shape your mother doesn’t love. Or work your knee over until it sounds like popcorn when you walk. Or where I put Keeton on notice that I’m coming for that gold.
And maybe there’s still a part of me whose heart races and ears perk up at that last part. But I’m not truly here for any of that.
I’m here for me.
To prove something to the only one I never could convince. No matter how much I lied, cheat, or stole; it was never enough. The more success I got, the more I wanted. The quicker it came, the quicker it went and the more desperately I needed it again. I’d say I was LIKE an addict but that would be a lie: I was an addict.
And when my dealer closed up shop, I replaced one addiction with a few others.
It took awhile but I found bottom eventually. No one that I cared about or cared about me. No money. No career. No future. No fucking meaning, at all.
I didn’t want to die but I sure as shit didn’t want to keep on living. That would require effort, introspection, engagement with everything I’d done.
Then I realized that just as important as all the awful shit I’d done is all the shit I hadn’t.
So that’s what I’m fucking doing here.
I did more than most ever dream of in our profession.
But I’d never done it right. And I’d never done it alone.
So here I am, Action Wrestling, another masked man, maligned with melodrama on the mat. And maybe I’m going to get my teeth knocked in here for a bit. That’s fine; this place has more talent in its Cruiserweight Division than most places do contending for their World Title. But I promise you it doesn’t matter how hard you hit me because I can’t control that.
I control how hard I hit back. I control how long I keep pushing forward. I may not be able to always control IF I win but I can always control HOW I win. That’s what I’m here for.
To win.
The right way.
That’s the question, right? Not my question, but yours. But instead of “I” you’re saying “you.” But you mean “you” as in me.
Shit. This is not a great start. Let’s regroup.
You (as in you) are probably asking yourself (as in yourself), “What is HE (as in me) doing here (as in Action Wrestling)?” There we go, clear as Pepsi.
Crystal Pepsi. That’s what I meant, Crystal Pepsi.
Good goddamn can I possibly be this out of practice? Apparently so.
So maybe I haven’t spoken like this in awhile, maybe I haven’t directly addressed people whose only real import to me is whether or not I can put their two shoulders down for three shakes of a donkey dick. In another lifetime, those were the only people I ever treated with any sort of import. My heart, mind, and soul were consumed by whatever poor sap’s name was across from mine that week and exactly what I could do to humiliate them–or at the very least beat them.
I had a mother, a brother, a girlfriend, friends but all I gave a shit about was whoever was going to stand across that ring from me.
Okay, “friends” was probably a lie. Just like Friends was a lie. No one has those apartments in New York. And no way Joey and Rachel only fuck once. Be serious.
Dammit. Keep it short, they told me. You’re a cruiser, the airtime is proportional to the average competitor height. And here I am again thinking about what a better show it could’ve been with something TRULY revolutionary like, oh I don’t know, one black person. Shout out to CJ Phoenix for being the only dollop of fudge in that vanilla sundae of a Champions list that Action Wrestling has.
I digress. Back to the question at hand:
What the fuck am I doing here?
This is where I tell you that I’m here to smash your face into a shape your mother doesn’t love. Or work your knee over until it sounds like popcorn when you walk. Or where I put Keeton on notice that I’m coming for that gold.
And maybe there’s still a part of me whose heart races and ears perk up at that last part. But I’m not truly here for any of that.
I’m here for me.
To prove something to the only one I never could convince. No matter how much I lied, cheat, or stole; it was never enough. The more success I got, the more I wanted. The quicker it came, the quicker it went and the more desperately I needed it again. I’d say I was LIKE an addict but that would be a lie: I was an addict.
And when my dealer closed up shop, I replaced one addiction with a few others.
It took awhile but I found bottom eventually. No one that I cared about or cared about me. No money. No career. No future. No fucking meaning, at all.
I didn’t want to die but I sure as shit didn’t want to keep on living. That would require effort, introspection, engagement with everything I’d done.
Then I realized that just as important as all the awful shit I’d done is all the shit I hadn’t.
So that’s what I’m fucking doing here.
I did more than most ever dream of in our profession.
But I’d never done it right. And I’d never done it alone.
So here I am, Action Wrestling, another masked man, maligned with melodrama on the mat. And maybe I’m going to get my teeth knocked in here for a bit. That’s fine; this place has more talent in its Cruiserweight Division than most places do contending for their World Title. But I promise you it doesn’t matter how hard you hit me because I can’t control that.
I control how hard I hit back. I control how long I keep pushing forward. I may not be able to always control IF I win but I can always control HOW I win. That’s what I’m here for.
To win.
The right way.