Post by america on Sept 27, 2020 22:01:08 GMT -5
2020
America is at a crossroads.
He went to meet his father in a hope that he would put his demons behind him. The regrets and hurt of a childhood lost by capricious actions. He wanted to be free of it. Instead he was given new questions. His father was neither hurt nor defiant, but remorseful. Further, the revelation that America’s mother had been ready to divorce him left America wondering how well he’d ever truly known his parents.
So he finds himself at his family home, searching through old files and mail to see if he can find anything that will help him make sense of this. It’s not a matter of blame. America knows beyond all else that his father is responsible for the decisions that shattered their family. Still, America has found himself caught once again in the grips of his past and so he digs deep to find anything he can use to move forward.
Eventually he finds the mail that his father must have read years ago. It’s crumpled and torn, a relic of the anger first released against it. When America reads it, he recognizes the name of the correspondent immediately. Isaiah Johnson. He’d been a senior on the high school wrestling team when America was a first year. America never heard much from him after that. Just that when he left town for school, he never came back. America looked at the number on the letter. He wasn’t sure if it would still connect four years later. Still, he had an itch in him. A need to do something. So he picked up the phone and dialed the number.
---
2009
America hadn’t been wrestling for the team long, but it had already become clear that he was improving faster than his peers. The coach paired him with one of the seniors, Isaiah Johnson. America was familiar with him for a couple reasons. There weren’t all that many black kids at his school which meant Isiah stood out immediately in most crowds. More importantly, he absolutely owned the mat at the first meet of the season, getting a clean sweep to come in first within his division.
“How’s it going?” Isaiah opened, offering a handshake. “Coach said you need someone good to train with. He figures you’re the shining future of the school.”
“And what do you think?” America asked, meeting the offered hand. Isaiah laughed as they shook.
“I think any kid named after the country he’s in better be able to kick some ass.” America laughed at that. He’d had folks take jabs at his name before. Of course he had. But this didn’t feel like an attack he needed to come out and defend from. It was good natured. He was happy to roll with it. Isaiah continued, “Alright, let’s hit the mat for a bit. I want to see what you’ve got.”
They wrestled for almost twenty minutes. Nothing formal or structured, just working each other to try and figure out what made them tick. It became clear quickly that Isaiah was better on the mat, however it was mostly down to experience. With work, America would be able to surpass him. When they’d finally finished taking each other’s measure, they broke for water.
“Not bad, rookie.” Isaiah said. “Little bit overconfident in your leg strength. You should keep your defense up the whole way round instead of centering it on your upper body.”
“Can’t pin my legs.” America replied. “Besides, I think I’m fast and strong enough to avoid getting caught that way.”
“Wouldn’t count on that.” Isaiah said. “There’s always someone faster or stronger or smarter than you out there. Only way to stay on top is to prepare for anything. If you’re the best through and through, no one can take that from you.”
“And that’s what you want? To be the best?” America asked.
“Sure.” Isaiah answered with full confidence. “Why would I be here otherwise?”
Reaching the top is only half the battle.
It’s a lesson every champion has to learn. You put everything into the chase, give everything you’ve got and more in order to win the title and then suddenly there it is…every other person just like you, bringing their best night ever in the hopes it gets them through. In so many ways, the challenge of a true champion isn’t about winning the thing…it’s about keeping it.
You think you’ve got what it takes Andrew, just because what? You won the Penultimate Showdown?
I’ll give you this much, it’s a hell of a feat. I’m definitely impressed by your ability to step in there with any number of wrestlers and come out on top. If I’m honest, my money was never on you. I thought for sure Lex Collins would be challenging for the biggest title in the world tonight, but apparently it was too much for the old man to come all the way through, so here we are.
I’ll give you this, you’ve had an impressive start. In some ways it’s almost like a mirror between us…come on in, rack up some hot singles wins, then get yourself an early title shot and run off to the races. I was so excited thinking for a minute I’d finally face someone like me…a man who’s just as determined to bring the best fight to each match and come out on top. Someone hungry.
Instead I got…you.
Look, you’re fine enough I guess. You present well, talk the talk, do a bit of walking even, but…
I’ve been fighting against what APW has been my whole time here. I got here with Zaigon and we saw plucky little wrestlers straight out of the CAW feature on your favourite video game. All y’all fighter men coming at us with your hopes and dreams and skill and honor…all of it meant nothing once we got into it.
You got no real dreams or ambition about you. You just come out and parrot the same shit that everyone before you did. Talk big about how you’ll rise to the top, how you’ve got once in a lifetime skills, maybe some game about how folks should be scared of you. You play out the same script as every third dude who watched professional wrestling in the 1990s and you think I’m gonna be impressed or intimidated, when at the heart of it you’re all interchangeable.
The only difference between you and Steven Osbourne is your daddy.
And man, I will tell you for free I cannot STAND that shit. You walk in here with your daddy’s name and think you’ve done it on your own. Talk about how you’re gonna be a fighting champ when you don’t got the concept of what it means to be a champ beyond the echoes of whatever your pa told you in the gap between your birth and your attempt to jack his legacy for your own clout.
You think you’re gonna be the guy?
Take your best shot, ‘son’.
2020
Isaiah was happy to get the call. He offered condolences on the circumstances of America’s parents and assured him that he and his employer had done all they could to prepare the divorce swiftly to ensure his mother’s safety. America thanked him, half in a daze. Then he asked if they could meet. The impulse was sudden, coming from his mouth before he realized he was thinking it. Isaiah offered a time and place which America quickly agreed to.
So America found himself in Seattle. The lush forests outside the city were a welcome change from the concrete jungles he’d been finding himself in so often of late. As he checked into a hotel, the view made him consider moving for a moment. He felt sick at the quick thought. Another moment of doubt among many others. America still wasn’t sure what he was doing here, but he knew it felt like something he had to do.
As he enters the restaurant to meet Isaiah, he notes first the stature of the place. Even once he started making money, America never considered eating at a place like this. It was a life he had long since accepted would never be for him and so he kept living without it. As he’s walked to his seat, he feels underdressed even as he wears a full suit himself. It’s only when he sees Isaiah dressed equally well and claps hands with him like they’re high schoolers again that he starts to feel comfortable. Eventually they settle in and order a couple obscenely overpriced beers.
“So…Seattle.” America says awkwardly.
“Yeah, I know. I went all office. Full suit and tie look and everything.” Isaiah says. “I always knew I couldn’t spend my whole life there. I never really fit in and besides that, the whole place was so…small. I knew I wanted bigger things for myself. Eventually I found my way here.”
“I never would have expected lawyer on you.” America laughs. “It’s a good look though. It suits you.”
“Thanks.” Isaiah says with a smile. “Sometimes I consider ripping the whole thing off and just going feral. Running out into the woods and living like a wolf man. You think the Louisiana guys were scary, you should see the fucking rent here.” Both men laugh. It’s a comfortable feeling. Isaiah lets it hang a moment before continuing. “Course sometimes I think about throwing it all away and getting back in the ring, much like a certain champion here.”
“You know about that, do you?” America says more than asks.
“Sure. You can take the man out of the ring but you can’t take the ring out of the man and all that.” Isaiah says. “I nearly spit my beer when I saw you roll out with Zaigon fucking Carter in APW. Hadn’t seen him since…shit, 2014?”
“He spent some time away, yeah.” America affirms.
“So yeah, I was hyped. Even moreso when you just kept winning titles.” Isaiah says. “Always knew you’d be something special.”
“Hey…” America says with some hesitation. “When’s the last time you hit a ring?”
In the end it’s what we do that’s important.
So what have you done Andrew?
You’re facing down a man who’s gone unbeaten…not a single person in this company has been able to pin me or make me submit. I beat the then reigning Hardcore and Junior Champions in my third match. I won the American Title in my first month and by the time of our match I will have tied the longest reigning champion to hold it. While doing so, I won the Ultimate Showdown match to become World Heavyweight Champion and have already defended it once against former champion Jason Ryan.
That’s my resume.
That’s why I can stand before you and say earnestly that I am going to win.
You?
You’ve got your one big miracle.
The Penultimate Showdown.
The ultimate victory…in a lesser version of my greatest victory.
You beat Jason Ryan…who I’ve also summarily trounced.
You lost to Eli Beazley who I beat once and who failed to make it to a second shot at me.
You’ve had your moments for sure, but while some aspects of your career have followed mine it’s just that. A shadow. You’re never going to be a man who shakes the foundations of the company. You’re never going to be a toppler of titans or a conquerer of gods. You’re a bit player. Another scrub writing his story based on other people’s notes and hoping against hope that you get to write the ending as well.
Your accomplishments mean nothing to me.
Your name means nothing to me.
You…mean nothing to me.
At World War Wrestling, I am going to show you what it means to be a real champion.
I will lead by example and beat you into your place.
When the cage rises and my music is playing I want you to think about the man you dream of being.
Then you can accept the loss when you realize…
I already exist.
America is at a crossroads.
He went to meet his father in a hope that he would put his demons behind him. The regrets and hurt of a childhood lost by capricious actions. He wanted to be free of it. Instead he was given new questions. His father was neither hurt nor defiant, but remorseful. Further, the revelation that America’s mother had been ready to divorce him left America wondering how well he’d ever truly known his parents.
So he finds himself at his family home, searching through old files and mail to see if he can find anything that will help him make sense of this. It’s not a matter of blame. America knows beyond all else that his father is responsible for the decisions that shattered their family. Still, America has found himself caught once again in the grips of his past and so he digs deep to find anything he can use to move forward.
Eventually he finds the mail that his father must have read years ago. It’s crumpled and torn, a relic of the anger first released against it. When America reads it, he recognizes the name of the correspondent immediately. Isaiah Johnson. He’d been a senior on the high school wrestling team when America was a first year. America never heard much from him after that. Just that when he left town for school, he never came back. America looked at the number on the letter. He wasn’t sure if it would still connect four years later. Still, he had an itch in him. A need to do something. So he picked up the phone and dialed the number.
---
2009
America hadn’t been wrestling for the team long, but it had already become clear that he was improving faster than his peers. The coach paired him with one of the seniors, Isaiah Johnson. America was familiar with him for a couple reasons. There weren’t all that many black kids at his school which meant Isiah stood out immediately in most crowds. More importantly, he absolutely owned the mat at the first meet of the season, getting a clean sweep to come in first within his division.
“How’s it going?” Isaiah opened, offering a handshake. “Coach said you need someone good to train with. He figures you’re the shining future of the school.”
“And what do you think?” America asked, meeting the offered hand. Isaiah laughed as they shook.
“I think any kid named after the country he’s in better be able to kick some ass.” America laughed at that. He’d had folks take jabs at his name before. Of course he had. But this didn’t feel like an attack he needed to come out and defend from. It was good natured. He was happy to roll with it. Isaiah continued, “Alright, let’s hit the mat for a bit. I want to see what you’ve got.”
They wrestled for almost twenty minutes. Nothing formal or structured, just working each other to try and figure out what made them tick. It became clear quickly that Isaiah was better on the mat, however it was mostly down to experience. With work, America would be able to surpass him. When they’d finally finished taking each other’s measure, they broke for water.
“Not bad, rookie.” Isaiah said. “Little bit overconfident in your leg strength. You should keep your defense up the whole way round instead of centering it on your upper body.”
“Can’t pin my legs.” America replied. “Besides, I think I’m fast and strong enough to avoid getting caught that way.”
“Wouldn’t count on that.” Isaiah said. “There’s always someone faster or stronger or smarter than you out there. Only way to stay on top is to prepare for anything. If you’re the best through and through, no one can take that from you.”
“And that’s what you want? To be the best?” America asked.
“Sure.” Isaiah answered with full confidence. “Why would I be here otherwise?”
Reaching the top is only half the battle.
It’s a lesson every champion has to learn. You put everything into the chase, give everything you’ve got and more in order to win the title and then suddenly there it is…every other person just like you, bringing their best night ever in the hopes it gets them through. In so many ways, the challenge of a true champion isn’t about winning the thing…it’s about keeping it.
You think you’ve got what it takes Andrew, just because what? You won the Penultimate Showdown?
I’ll give you this much, it’s a hell of a feat. I’m definitely impressed by your ability to step in there with any number of wrestlers and come out on top. If I’m honest, my money was never on you. I thought for sure Lex Collins would be challenging for the biggest title in the world tonight, but apparently it was too much for the old man to come all the way through, so here we are.
I’ll give you this, you’ve had an impressive start. In some ways it’s almost like a mirror between us…come on in, rack up some hot singles wins, then get yourself an early title shot and run off to the races. I was so excited thinking for a minute I’d finally face someone like me…a man who’s just as determined to bring the best fight to each match and come out on top. Someone hungry.
Instead I got…you.
Look, you’re fine enough I guess. You present well, talk the talk, do a bit of walking even, but…
I’ve been fighting against what APW has been my whole time here. I got here with Zaigon and we saw plucky little wrestlers straight out of the CAW feature on your favourite video game. All y’all fighter men coming at us with your hopes and dreams and skill and honor…all of it meant nothing once we got into it.
You got no real dreams or ambition about you. You just come out and parrot the same shit that everyone before you did. Talk big about how you’ll rise to the top, how you’ve got once in a lifetime skills, maybe some game about how folks should be scared of you. You play out the same script as every third dude who watched professional wrestling in the 1990s and you think I’m gonna be impressed or intimidated, when at the heart of it you’re all interchangeable.
The only difference between you and Steven Osbourne is your daddy.
And man, I will tell you for free I cannot STAND that shit. You walk in here with your daddy’s name and think you’ve done it on your own. Talk about how you’re gonna be a fighting champ when you don’t got the concept of what it means to be a champ beyond the echoes of whatever your pa told you in the gap between your birth and your attempt to jack his legacy for your own clout.
You think you’re gonna be the guy?
Take your best shot, ‘son’.
2020
Isaiah was happy to get the call. He offered condolences on the circumstances of America’s parents and assured him that he and his employer had done all they could to prepare the divorce swiftly to ensure his mother’s safety. America thanked him, half in a daze. Then he asked if they could meet. The impulse was sudden, coming from his mouth before he realized he was thinking it. Isaiah offered a time and place which America quickly agreed to.
So America found himself in Seattle. The lush forests outside the city were a welcome change from the concrete jungles he’d been finding himself in so often of late. As he checked into a hotel, the view made him consider moving for a moment. He felt sick at the quick thought. Another moment of doubt among many others. America still wasn’t sure what he was doing here, but he knew it felt like something he had to do.
As he enters the restaurant to meet Isaiah, he notes first the stature of the place. Even once he started making money, America never considered eating at a place like this. It was a life he had long since accepted would never be for him and so he kept living without it. As he’s walked to his seat, he feels underdressed even as he wears a full suit himself. It’s only when he sees Isaiah dressed equally well and claps hands with him like they’re high schoolers again that he starts to feel comfortable. Eventually they settle in and order a couple obscenely overpriced beers.
“So…Seattle.” America says awkwardly.
“Yeah, I know. I went all office. Full suit and tie look and everything.” Isaiah says. “I always knew I couldn’t spend my whole life there. I never really fit in and besides that, the whole place was so…small. I knew I wanted bigger things for myself. Eventually I found my way here.”
“I never would have expected lawyer on you.” America laughs. “It’s a good look though. It suits you.”
“Thanks.” Isaiah says with a smile. “Sometimes I consider ripping the whole thing off and just going feral. Running out into the woods and living like a wolf man. You think the Louisiana guys were scary, you should see the fucking rent here.” Both men laugh. It’s a comfortable feeling. Isaiah lets it hang a moment before continuing. “Course sometimes I think about throwing it all away and getting back in the ring, much like a certain champion here.”
“You know about that, do you?” America says more than asks.
“Sure. You can take the man out of the ring but you can’t take the ring out of the man and all that.” Isaiah says. “I nearly spit my beer when I saw you roll out with Zaigon fucking Carter in APW. Hadn’t seen him since…shit, 2014?”
“He spent some time away, yeah.” America affirms.
“So yeah, I was hyped. Even moreso when you just kept winning titles.” Isaiah says. “Always knew you’d be something special.”
“Hey…” America says with some hesitation. “When’s the last time you hit a ring?”
In the end it’s what we do that’s important.
So what have you done Andrew?
You’re facing down a man who’s gone unbeaten…not a single person in this company has been able to pin me or make me submit. I beat the then reigning Hardcore and Junior Champions in my third match. I won the American Title in my first month and by the time of our match I will have tied the longest reigning champion to hold it. While doing so, I won the Ultimate Showdown match to become World Heavyweight Champion and have already defended it once against former champion Jason Ryan.
That’s my resume.
That’s why I can stand before you and say earnestly that I am going to win.
You?
You’ve got your one big miracle.
The Penultimate Showdown.
The ultimate victory…in a lesser version of my greatest victory.
You beat Jason Ryan…who I’ve also summarily trounced.
You lost to Eli Beazley who I beat once and who failed to make it to a second shot at me.
You’ve had your moments for sure, but while some aspects of your career have followed mine it’s just that. A shadow. You’re never going to be a man who shakes the foundations of the company. You’re never going to be a toppler of titans or a conquerer of gods. You’re a bit player. Another scrub writing his story based on other people’s notes and hoping against hope that you get to write the ending as well.
Your accomplishments mean nothing to me.
Your name means nothing to me.
You…mean nothing to me.
At World War Wrestling, I am going to show you what it means to be a real champion.
I will lead by example and beat you into your place.
When the cage rises and my music is playing I want you to think about the man you dream of being.
Then you can accept the loss when you realize…
I already exist.
