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Why I Succeed
Topic Started: Oct 20 2016, 03:13 AM (31 Views)
Drew
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"I've missed more than 9,000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times I've been trusted to take the game-winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed." - Michael Jordan

I shouldn't be here.

In 2001, I broke my neck. Dropped right on top of my head. But I persevered. And here I am.

2005, I was stabbed and almost shot in the face by a madman. Lacerations to the liver and stomach. But I persevered. And here I am.

2010, I was having the greatest single year of my career, winning a world title against all odds, when I get jumped by four losers who wanted to make a name for themselves at my expense. But I persevered. And here I am.

2012, I had my arm snapped in two, courtesy of my ex-girlfriend and an armbar I wouldn't tap to. But I persevered. And here I am.

2013, I found out my sister was never really related to me. Broke my heart in a million pieces to know my family was an imposter, a fake, a charlatan, a liar. But I persevered. And here I am.

My entire career--hell, my entire life--is one big "I shouldn't be here" moment. Nothing goes to plan, but I persevere, and here I am.

I can add October 13, 2016 to that list now. Now, this isn't in the traditional sense, where my life was threatened. This time. Just... my livelihood. One minute, the world was my oyster. I had plans to be the next Redemption Champion. I had plans to be the most decorated champion this company had ever seen. Three seconds later, after the second Psalm of the Fallen from my opponent, that dream came crashing down. Plans change, but the drive remains.

This isn't over, inmate. You managed, somehow, to keep me on the mat for three consecutive seconds. You even managed to do it on your own.

Anyway... on to the next one. Or ones, as it were.


------------

Location: En Route from STL to ORD, 35,000 Feet
Date/Time: 16OCT16, 1948 Hours CDT


I love Chicago. Well, for the most part. I like the town, and the people were always some of the smartest fans in the history of professional wrestling. Love me or hate me, they always showed the proper level of respect. When you show up in a place like this for the better part of a decade, with various companies, and the people STILL turn out in droves to see you? You've done your part.

But the absolute WORST thing about Chicago is the main god-forsaken airport! I'd rather fly out of Midway for EVERYTHING, but I let my agent book the flight, so O'Hare it is. Said something about 'first class tickets'. I haven't flown anything but coach since before Redemption opened, but he insisted.

The captain had turned off the "Fasten Seatbelt" sign, and we were free to move about the cabin. I unbuckled my belt and stood up, stretching out. The crinkle of an ice pack strapped to my knee gave away my less than stellar condition. Roxy, to her credit, was curled up in the seat across the aisle from me, fast asleep. She could sleep anywhere. She could sleep through a dump truck rolling into a nitroglycerin plant.

The guy in the seat in front of me had the same idea, and as he turned around he noticed that I towered over him by almost a foot.


Random passenger: Good lord, you're big.

Slade: You can thank my mom and dad for that.

Random passenger: Clyde Ferguson. And you must be somebody, because all the flight attendants were fawning on you.

Slade: Nice to meet you, Clyde. I'm John. And I get that a lot. Must have one of those faces.

Roxy woke up, cocking an eye at me with a grin.

Roxanne Spaulding: Don't let him fool you, Clyde. This humble guy is a world-renowned pro wrestler named Slade.

Clyde Ferguson: I've heard that name before. Did you used to--?

Slade: Most likely, yeah. I don't like to brag about what I used to do.

Roxanne Spaulding: USED to? He's still going strong today! If it weren't for some piss-poor luck in St. Louis a couple nights ago, you'd be looking at one of the odds on favorites to win Redemption Wrestling's highest honor!

I sighed. I didn't like it when Roxy stood up and tooted my horn, if you will. It was bad enough that I put a ton of pressure on myself with every match I wrestled.


Slade: I'm just lucky to still be in the game after all these years and all these aches and pains.

I patted the ice pack on my knee and chuckled a little nervously. Roxy rose from her reclining position and unbuckled her seatbelt.

Roxanne Spaulding: This guy is a multi-time Heavyweight Champion, a Grand Slam winner, and even after this week has a good shot to be the first guy in Redemption's history to win five separate titles. Slade's one of the best still breathing, and one day, the front office will recognize that and put his sexy ass in the Hall of Fame.

Slade: Gotta retire first, Rox.

Clyde laughed at our interaction, but looked around a little nervously, as we seemed to be in our own little world... thankfully for him, the flight attendant was pushing the beverage cart, and he quickly ordered a gin and tonic.

Clyde Ferguson: Anything for you two?

Slade: Cranberry juice for me.

Roxanne Spaulding: Got any mimosa?

The flight attendant nodded and prepared the three drinks. I sat down and sipped mine, while Roxy downed hers.

Clyde Ferguson: Not much of a drinker?

Slade: No sir. Nothing stronger than a beer in 4 years. I used to drink in excess, but--

Roxanne Spaulding: Then he found out he couldn't keep up with me, so he stopped.

She grinned like a goof and I couldn't resist a laugh.

Slade: When you're right, you're right.

Pilot: (over intercom) *DING* Ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank you for flying with us today. We should be touching down in Chicago in the next few minutes, so I'm going to turn the "Fasten Seatbelt" light back on. Please, everyone, return to your seats, and we expect smooth sailing.

I looked at Roxy, who was trying to get one more refill before buckling back up.

Slade: So where's this charity thing you got us into?

Roxanne Spaulding: Naperville. Local Hooters is raising money for breast cancer research, and I couldn't think of a more noble way to spend a Sunday evening than you judging a hot wing eating contest. Plus, this place has been booked for weeks, since they found out you and I were coming.

Slade: Breast cancer research, eh?

Roxanne Spaulding: As if you needed a reason to go to Hooters.

Slade: I'm a fan of the wings!

Roxanne Spaulding: Sure you are. And I'm Mary, Queen of Scots.

I couldn't resist a laugh again as she quickly tossed back the remainder of her mimosa as the light went back on to buckle up. I leaned back in my seat a little, adjusting the ice pack again, and reminding myself that, no matter how much I hated personal appearances, every gig matters. Even the little ones.

After all, how would I have fans if I didn't go out and see them once in a while?


-------------

And now here's something I hope you'll really like!

...I hope I'm not the only one old enough to understand the reference.

So last week, I lost in my bid to become the newest Redemption Champion and the first man to hold five individual titles. And this week, I find myself in quite the predicament: a three-way dance to move on in hopes of attaining the Classic Championship. Some may say, "Slade, you've been doing this for far too long, and it's clear you can't hack it with the big boys. Maybe you did this on purpose to decrease the level of competition. Maybe... you ought to just retire and let the new generation have their place in the sun." To them, I simply say: I always do my level best at every turn, because if I don't, the fans get cheated out of what they've paid to see. And for those who think I'm just some sort of glory hound... not so fast, my friend. Anyone can have my place if they're up to the challenge. I'll step aside if I can't win... but it'll take a lot.

I know I won't always win every contest--nobody's perfect--but it's never easy in a group such as this. Fortunately for me, just like last week, I'm going up against someone I'm very familiar with. Eva Broussard, the Cajun Crackpot, the Voodoo Queen, the Creole Nutcase, with more voices in her head than the Wu-Tang Clan... what else am I forgetting? Oh yes, married to the only person on the planet more sadistic than she is. Did I leave anything out? I hope not. But just in case, I'll come back to you, cher.

My other opponent, Red Dragon... I remember you. I've seen your bit in a half-dozen places, where you paint your face and get all scary and talk about the tremendous levels of pain you're going to dish out. Well, you didn't beat Jason Sandman last week, and he's been out of commission for the last four years. So what's that say about your chances against me this week? The Danger Man is almost 0-for-a-lifetime against me, and he took your ass to the cleaners! What could you possibly put on display that would impress ANYONE here, let alone get over on a GRAND SLAM CHAMPION? So my advice to you is very, very simple: go back to the swamp from whence you came and fuckin' STAY there. Less embarrassment for you, and less work for me. Because as the rules go, it's not exactly who wins this contest that's affected the most; it's who LOSES. They're the ones going home with their tail between their legs. And it won't be me, son.

And finally, back to Eva Broussard-Davies: the element of surprise will not work with me. I've seen it all, done it all, and lived to tell the tale. If you think, for just one second, you're going to make a name for yourself at my expense? You weren't paying much attention the first time around. Your beauty won't distract me; I've been with hotter women than you in that ring and held my own. Your head games won't work on me; I've played them with the best the business has to offer. And you may have forgotten that we danced once before, and I took every punch you had. So... what can you bring to the table? What cards could you possibly have up your sleeves, when I've seen every card there is in the deck? I know the hands you'll be playing, and I hold the winning hand.

Just up to me to finish the round and follow through.

God, I LOVE this business! I'd almost forgotten that.

See you Thursday, kids.

Edited by Drew, Oct 20 2016, 03:23 AM.
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