The Forever Story: Surround Sound
Nov 27, 2022 1:56:27 GMT -5
Johnny Bacchus, Gerard Angelo, and 2 more like this
Post by Spencer Adams on Nov 27, 2022 1:56:27 GMT -5
“I know I can't afford to stop for one moment
That it's too soon, to for—”
Eleven months.
Everything that is Action Wrestling in the year 2023 culminates with maybe the biggest match in the history of this sport. This is arguably the stage that trumps all stages and Turmoil's final clash may just be the showdown to trump all showdowns. For the first time ever, Spencer Adams goes one on one with Downfall, one dominant superstar pitted against another in the grand finale of the AW playoffs. Now, before we get too carried away with the emphasis of the moment and the surface level celebration of significance, allow me to make one thing perfectly clear.
Spencer Adams is not wrestler of the year.
Spencer Adams is wrestler of the life.
Every single thing that’s gone on around here, I’ve been there for. If I wasn’t in that ring, I was backstage waiting to enter it. If there was no show to be had, I was prepping for the next. I had a fucking monster try to take me out and all I could think about was getting back to where I had to be so that I MIGHT be able to return and uplift this place like it desperately needed and despite some telling me they suspected that I’d never be able to compete again, I worked my ass off and made it happen. That’s what you do when you define something and vice versa.
I’m well aware that Downfall is not going to walk into this match viewing me as the boss battle that I am. Despite that, I’m looking at him as the one that he is. It’s urgency, understanding of the importance of the moment and every moment that’s come before and after. A lot of folks are going to come and go and many of them are going to approach AW with a blind eye to the past and a struggle with short term memory. Unlike those who have come and gone, Spencer Adams never forgets. I was here for #BeachKrew, the rise of The DiVito empire, The Following, Philidor, you name it. I’ve been fighting boss battles my whole fucking life and every time, I’ve survived them. This will be no different. It’s been more than two years since a decent fucking person has held that belt or won this tournament.
That shit changes now.
Fifteen years.
That’s how long it’s been since I’d seen Aunt Mia.
She was his last living sibling. I can’t say that I’d actually thought about her or much of anyone from dad’s side of the family in that same span of time. Many of the feelings I had for him were ones that as I got older, I still maintained towards his closest relatives. Never the personal abusers he was, but symptomatic nonetheless and still in line with toxic behavior just the same. At the same time, I have to wonder if I was misjudging. After all, I was a teenager at the time. Maybe it’s nothing more than a younger version of myself misremembering who she was.
Was I shutting her out? Maybe the doc was right and making contact would clear up some ill feelings I was holding onto. Perhaps it was just all in my head and reconnecting with Aunt Nia could be the thing that would finally put my mind at ease about their passing. Mom, Robbie, and Erica are gone, but I do still have blood out there and who knows..maybe she needs me, too. What if she’s going through the same thing?
125 W Madison St
I did reach out to make contact prior, but wasn’t the least bit surprised that her address remained the same. Mia Adams lived in East Garfield Park for as long as I could remember and the house was as derelict as it was when I was a kid. I felt moisture in the palm of my clench right fist as anxiousness caused my entire lower left arm to vibrate. With a deep inhale and last minute smile rehearsal, I tapped against splintered wood and chipped paint in uninspired rhythm.
BUM BUM BUHBUM BUM…BUM BUM
Inside the home, a Rottweiler roared frantically, jumping up against a window just a few feet away. It lets out a small yelp in response to muffled shouting and as it goes quiet, the door swings open.
Mia: Nephew!
Spencer: Hey, nice to-
She flung her arms over my shoulders and pulled me in. I swiveled my head discreetly, trying my best to dodge clumps of messy hair in the awkward embrace. Behind her and off in the side room, a man holding the dog tight its collar shoots a singular nod silently in my direction.
Spencer: You know, I’ve been talking to someone recently and they actually thought it would help me..help us really..if I were to reach out and maybe try to catch up with you.
Mia: BABY! BABY! THIS IS MY NEPHEW! THE ONE I TOLD YOU ABOUT THE OTHER DAY!
I force the smile back and take a couple of rocking steps in place while eyes wander towards the ceiling above.
Spencer: I mean, I-
Mia: Must be nice. ‘Course things here don’t change much, but we both know why you really came out.
Spencer: I’m sorry?
Mia: It’s the lord bringin’ us together! He sent you here to make things better..told me himself. You a gift. He sent you to get me out of here, didn’t he? I just knew it! Praise be!
Spencer: ...I just thought maybe you’d want to see each other again.
Mia: We got all the time to catch up later! Right now, we just focus on all this.
Spencer: I…don’t think I follow.
Mia: Oh, come on, nephew. You got your lil’ contracts, that Fit Smart thing goin’. Surely, you got plenty to help out your old auntie.
Her expression lacked structural integrity and seemed to teeter on the line of visibly positive and negative.
Mia: So what? You come here to rub shit in?
Spencer: That’s…no..
Mia: Big man! Big man with the deep pockets and you ain’t got nothin’ for family! Always thinkin’ about you just like my brother! You ungrateful little-
The dog revs itself back up, battling a shouting Mia for vocal relevancy.
I feel everything in my midsection sinking down into itself. Instead of offering up a rebuttal, I step back through the doorway and let the door close behind me as I turn. Allowing the screaming from inside that’s still directed towards me to fade to background music, walking toward the rental and creating distance between myself and the house. Once situated, I allow my head to slump down as a deep exhale escapes and is quickly cut off by the buzzing of my phone.
Don’t worry, Downfall. I’m not here to call you by your birth name and ruin your day in the same way as basically everybody that came before me in trying to usurp and replace you in the Action Wrestling hierarchy. There’s plenty of other low hanging fruit that those same people have neglected to pick that are still ripe for myself. I’m more than accommodating with speaking to you on your terms. The only thing that I ask of you is that you do me the same courtesy and address me by mine.
Spencer Adams.
Proud, open, honest.
That’s what I’m here for.
Honesty.
Truth be told, you’ve been a problem for a long time now. Talented as all Hell, still capable of running with the best after years in the business, but it’s what you’ve chosen to do with that longevity that’s the real problem. I can deal with equal parts fierce and capable. That’s my type of matchup, the type I prefer to indulge in actually. What I don’t fuck with is who you are as a man and the way that you’ve gone about trying to become more undisputed, your efforts to effectively eliminate the competition so that Downfall can sit on his throne with nobody in his way, no real contention.
The problem for YOU is that you just don’t fucking listen, do you? Not to foes and certainly not to friends. Hell, Dion’s been trying to get through to you for ages now just for his every word to fall on willfully deaf ears. Truthfully, you should be putting more stock in what the guy who knows you best has to tell you. After all, is he not the one person in this business who has consistently put his stock into you as a friend and an ally? The one who has been willing to fight alongside you when the only reason you’ve left him for doing so is his own unwavering sense of loyalty?
I’ve been down the road you’re currently traveling and believe me when I say that turning around was the best decision that I’ve ever made. Year one Spencer Adams was bitter and determined to become something more than what an out of touch schmuck like Seth Lerch assessed me as. I lost myself in that and didn’t care how I achieved what I set off to do. Proud of what I accomplished? Sure, but there’s always a better way to do things and you’ve been taking the bitch way out for far too long.
You’ve snowballed into a bigger and bigger issue, because the mask has come off. No longer do you care about pretending to ride the line between honorable and doing whatever it takes as you’ve removed any inkling of the former from your person. In this quest for recognition and reclaiming gold, you’ve become a grown man chopping down Truffula trees and it’s past the point of no return. Dionysus could paint his entire body orange and even his pleas of “plz stahp, friend” would mean nothing to you, because that’s who you are now…a nothing man with a busted moral compass.
Maybe open your fucking ears and take a couple pointers for once. I mean, isn’t it time that we acknowledge that for the first time in a long time, Dionysus’ star is ascending? I’m starting to feel bad for the guy, doing his best to carve out his own name while you only further tarnish yours and leave a slight black mark on his by association. I get it though. Dion’s doing what a real one does, but what about when he gets further than you without scorching the Earth along the way? Will your jaw drop in awe or will you decide that you can’t tolerate the success of anyone other than yourself and do to him what you’ve done to others?
If Dion surpasses you through his own grit and grind mentality, through showing that he can do it all with hard work and determination..can you say that you’d let him have that or would you make him the next recipient of the crowbar treatment simply for holding something that you wanted? How quick would you be to turn your friend into your next Johnny Bacchus or Corey Black? You know what? Since we’re already there, why shy away from it? Let’s talk about’em, Downfall.
Let’s talk about how for all the noise we’ve collectively made about Johnny not being a major threat throughout his time with this company, you still felt it necessary to take that next step to beat him out of your way completely, to eliminate a challenger in any form. You’re so deeply fucking paranoid and insecure, moreso than any other career twilight vet that you can’t help but turn a roadblock into a professional tombstone. I mean, if this were the “Help, I'm on methamphetamine and there are bugs under my skin" tournament, you would've won every round in ten seconds.
You were so fucking scared of what another loss of championship opportunity to Corey Black would look like that you set out to dismantle the man before the possibility of you and him at this stage could even come to fruition. You became the walking definition of death by ego and tried to end the career of one of the longest standing pillars in this entire sport by taking Corey down with you and to add insult to injury, you parade around with a strap that wasn’t yours to begin with, the hardcore championship that you stole from the man that you robbed out of further advancing in this tournament.
It drove you crazy that “Deathproof” had a spotlight burning brighter than you for even a second, that you were outdone in a division and lane that you were dead set on taking control of, one where your actions look less egregious and has been so filled with in and out talent for so long that it was a surefire thing for The Beast Unleashed. You couldn’t take no for an answer, couldn’t tolerate being denied what you wanted..so you decided that the ruleset wouldn’t end with that final bell. You didn’t just make a target out of Corey Black, you became fucking obsessed with the man holding onto what you wanted.
The biggest issue though, the reason that I HAVE to put you down, is that you aren’t just self destructing. You aren’t just going over a guy with dirty tactics who I put down within the confines of a standard rule set or going after a friend of mine over nothing more than petty shit, you’re putting everyone and everything that I care about in this sport in jeopardy. The worst part is that I don’t even think you see it. If you did, I like to think that even you wouldn’t go to the lengths that you currently are.
After a year of ups and mostly downs, you’ve found yourself right back in the same spot you were a year ago, but what the fuck does it actually matter? If you continue to be the one who will gladly kill the entire business as collateral and not think twice about it if it means another shot at something you want for nothing more than to make yourself feel like you’re THE guy, then what will you really be left with? What does Downfall being at the top of AW even mean when there’s no more AW? Imagine grinding your whole fucking life to get to a stage like this just to fucking ruin it by setting out to become the default.
It’s a sad fucking existence you live. Turning away family and friends just so that you can feel significant, so that you can fill the six foot tall void that is your anatomy with short term gratification. You do it because for every bit of in ring savvy and ability you have, for all the remorseless and heartless tricks you pull from the Downfall playbook, you’re still a fucking idiot. You erase what you’ve done and what you’ve previously stood against from your memory, because it would force you to challenge yourself. It would put you face to face with the man in the mirror, maybe the one guy who you WOULD listen to at this point.
Remember, YOU helped take down Philidor in the end. YOU were one of the ones who offered up your own contributions towards the final blow, because for as short sighted and selfish as you may be..even you recognized that Philidor would only continue to destroy anything and everything in Action Wrestling. That was Downfall who did that and now you’re telling me that you’re willing to turn around and do the exact same thing they did? If Philidor was a disease and one that you were willing to team up against, then what the fuck does that make you?
Hypocrite.
Successor.
YOU are the disease now.
They were good at this with or without the agenda and the insistence on leaning into winning matches in the shittiest way possible, but you’re a goddamn fool to now act as if they had it right all along. For all their attempts to takeover and reshape AW in their own image for capital supremacy, they fell and so will you. Difference is, there’s no Johnny Bacchus to try to pick you up and sell the world on your redemption after you’ve found yourself face down in a pool of yourself like Ash had. You took that guy out of the company. It won’t be Corey Black, it won’t be myself, and given the complete lack of respect you show the guy, it won’t even be Dion. You’re alone in this and that’s the price that you have to pay. When Spencer Adams stops you short of a tournament repeat, you’ll be alone just like when Corey Black comes back with your receipt, you’ll be alone and all the good people whose throats you’ve shit down will feel absolutely nothing for you.
You’re my last step toward a potentially perfect record on the calendar year and what seems to be an inevitable shot at the champ and you won’t be an easy one to overcome, but I’ve got your fucking number. Everything you thought you knew in the first three rounds, throw it away and be ready to show up clueless, because this is not those matches. I don’t have the doe eyes or lingering sense of idol worship that Alice Gemini imported from childhood. There’s no trace of main show discomfort due to time spent away from the main roster like Teo Blaze. I have no sense of vanity held together with duct tape like Gerard Angelo. I’m Spencer fucking Adams and what you see is what you get and where your dream of walking away from this with your hand raised dies, everyone else’s will be realized.
Corey: You came.
Spencer: Of course.
It was sort of bizarre seeing a man who had really become more of a myth in a vulnerable state like this. Maybe that’s me still thinking as a fan to some degree, and viewing Corey Black as the competitor he’s always maintained himself as.
Spencer: Not even a thought.
Corey: I do appreciate you though, you and CJ both really.
Spencer: Yeah? For what?
Corey: For not running to my aid, for allowing me the chance to handle him on my own. I know he would’ve loved nothing more than to be given an excuse to run with going into this thing.
Spencer: Can’t say it wasn’t difficult for us.
Corey: Yeah, I get it.
Spencer: I’m going to do right by you, man.
Corey: You don’t owe me anything, but I think you’re right on the money.
Spencer: What do you mean?
Corey: You don’t have to do anything for me and I mean that, but I wouldn’t complain about you softening the guy up for me either.
He pushes up gingerly and makes a slowed walk over to the nearest window, still speaking while the back of his head is turned towards me.
Spencer: No kidding.
Corey: Do you remember the last time you felt good about AW?
Spencer: No..
Corey: Seriously, how long has it been since it was about the sport? When haven’t we had to fend off someone attempting to blow the whole place up?
Spencer: I…I don’t know..
Corey: I’m not asking you to beat Downfall for me. I’m telling you..do it for that.
Why will I win?
Why do I need to?
If I sound like a broken record here or if it feels like I’m preaching to the choir, then so be it. I’m here right now doing what I do, because somebody needs to. It doesn’t matter the situation or whoever the plague of the month is around here, somebody has to contest it. Why Spencer Adams? Because I’m the one here. I’ve always been the one. I built this place up from just being an idea in the minds of a couple of retired veterans and gave it someone who could shoulder whatever burdens it. I came from absolutely fucking nothing and did all of this so that other people who grew up like me wanting to be a part of this business and help it grow could do it through real matches with real meaning and I’d say nothing has changed but EVERYTHING has changed.
I do this, because Robbie Adams will never get to. The little boy who used to run around his bedroom in licensed pajamas and a luchador mask will never see his dream come to fruition, because someone else decided it was their right to come and take that away from him. The real pain I’ve felt for years now isn’t just that someone took that little boy away from me, it’s that they took that future away from him. Just like the villains of the story always do, someone else made the choice to rob him of that light. It stings that I don’t get to see that anymore, but it eats me up inside that the world doesn’t get to at all.
I do this, because Robbie was one kid in a long line of kids just like him who need something to keep that dream alive and it sure as SHIT won’t be Downfall. It won’t be the Downfall after him or the Downfall after that guy. They’re the rotten ones, the issue that will linger at best and suffocate at worst and as difficult as it’s proven to be up to this point, something has got to give. The people who watch this product and take inspiration from it deserve to sleep just a little bit better at night when these shows go off the air and I’m going to give it to them.
When the only thing you act out of is selfishness and you don’t show this business the love it deserves, it’s not going to respond by showing you love either and Downfall, you deserve anything but. Your career and your actions are not to be celebrated, because you’ve never been the hero of this story. Not yours, not theirs..nobody’s. The wrestling world is sick and tired of being sick and tired. I don’t deserve a better tomorrow or a 2023 worth cheering for, all of them do, too. I’m taking this one for the team. I’m going to rectify every bit of damage you’ve done by pushing you to the back of the line on merit and merit alone and only then will you have cemented the legacy and place in history you so desperately crave.
Not as the hero of the story, but the reason he showed up.
