Dean Wolf's Apology Tour, Part V

Yes, Dean Wolf goes to Planet Fitness. Ever since he left the employ of Bernard Core eleven months ago, he’s been trying to live frugally, which includes having the most basic membership that Planet Fitness offers.

He’s on the treadmill trying to get in his cardio workout. Running on the treadmill can be very boring, so he watches some footage of Fuckin A’ on his cell phone. Right now, it’s Fuckin’ A’s promo about Christian Guillen and Smith Jones. One line sticks out in particular for Wolf.

“I don't give a fuck about winning.”

Is he serious?

A few minutes later, Fuckin’ A’s final line almost causes Wolf to fall off the treadmill.

“And I suppose Smith Jones will be there, too.”

Wolf grabs the side bars on the treadmill and hops his feet off to the sides.

Wow. What a prick. I guess I have to teach this kid a lesson this week.

He turns off the treadmill, steps off the machine, and starts heading towards the exit when he finds someone that makes him stop in his tracks more dramatically than the Fuckin’ A promo.

It was the third name on his Hit List: Chris Swenson. He was at the front desk trying to woo the young girl behind it in the purple Planet Fitness T-shirt. She does not look impressed.

Wow. The guy’s thirty-four years old and he’s still trying to pick up high school girls.

Chris was always a lady’s man in high school, and he was successful at it. Wolf bets he could bag this girl up, too. Still, the sight of him still trying to pick up a girl that probably hasn’t even gotten her driver’s license was a little creepy.

But that’s not his concern at the moment. His concern is whether to apologize to this guy right in the middle of the gym and possibly cause a scene if Chris wants to get his revenge on Wolf right now or try to avoid him and find another opportunity to ask for Chris’ forgiveness for giving him a concussion in the band room in eleventh grade. Nobody would blame him for not wanting to cause a potentially unsafe situation. On the other hand, Wolf would feel like a coward if he tried to avoid it.

Fuck it. Here we go.

Dean Wolf: Chris.

Chris looks to his left. His face goes from cocky and self-assured to shocked, mouth slightly agape.

Aw, shit. Here we go indeed.

Wolf clenches his fists, ready to defend himself. Suddenly, Chris’ face lightens up.

Chris Swenson: Dude!

Chris walks towards Wolf and raises his arms. Wolf’s body tightens, waiting for the attack, but instead, is wrapped up in Chris’ arms. Chris pats him on the back during the embrace.

What the fuck?

Chris Swenson: How the fuck are you, man?

Dean Wolf: You know who I am, right?

Chris releases the hug and looks at Wolf.

Chris Swenson: Yeah, man! Dan Dexter!

It was weird for Wolf to hear someone call him by his shoot name.

Dean Wolf: Yeah, that’s me.

Chris Swenson: Aw, man. It’s great to see you!

The entire scene is surreal.

Dean Wolf: It is?

Chris Swenson: Yeah! I haven’t seen you in like twenty years! What are you doing these days?

Dean Wolf: Um, I’m a professional wrestler.

Chris Swenson: That’s right! I’ve seen you on TV. You’re in AWP or something like that.

Dean Wolf: APW, but that was close.

Chris Swenson: Oh, man. Sorry, but yeah, I’ve caught you on TV a few times. You kick ass, man.

He should know from experience.

Dean Wolf: Uh, yeah, thanks. So, um, what’s...um...what’s up with you these days?

Wolf is not used to having small talk, let alone any conversation with anyone. He doesn’t really care about Chris’ life these days, but apparently this is what you do when you’re trying to be polite.

Chris Swenson: Oh, you know, still living in my parents’ house in Selden. I work at that car wash on the corner of Middle Country and Horseblock. I’m a shift supervisor right now. I may get bumped up to assistant manager in a few months.

Dean Wolf: Oh, um...good for you, man.

This guy is a fucking loser.

Chris Swenson: Yeah, you know, the owner’s a dick. He’s always had it out for me. That’s why I haven’t advanced any further in my career, but I’ll get there soon enough. Maybe I’ll own the place one day!

Wolf can see on this guy’s face that he knows his life is shit.

Dean Wolf: Yeah, I bet. Well, listen, Chris, can we sit down for a minute?

Chris Swenson: Yeah, sure, man.

They sit at the tables in the front of the gym in the chairs that look like big hands.

Chris Swenson: What’s going on, man?

The first guy Wolf tried to apologize to run away screaming. So far, this encounter with Chris was going swimmingly. Still, he’s a little nervous about bringing the topic up. Did Chris forget? I mean, he was concussed. Maybe his memory went. Regardless, Wolf is a little apprehensive, but he made it this far. Might as well go for the kill. No, not the kill. Wrong choice of words.

Dean Wolf: Look, Chris, lately, I’ve decided to go around and apologize to certain people I’ve hurt in the past. You are one of those people I’ve been hoping to find.

Chris immediately stops him.

Chris Swenson: Oh, man, are you going to apologize for that fight in the band room?

Dean Wolf: Um, yeah, I was.

Chris Swenson: Oh, geez, you don’t have to apologize for that, man. He were just horsing around. That’s what teenage boys do!

Wolf is stunned.

Dean Wolf: Are you serious? Chris, I concussed you.

Chris Swenson: Yeah, but that’s what happens when you play around like that. Plus, me, Mark, and Joe had it coming anyway. We kicked the shit out of you in that band room every day!

His face lights up like he’s remembering the good old days. Wolf tightens his fist a little bit, wanting to repeat the beating he put on this douchebag, but he tempers himself.

Dean Wolf: That you did. Well, listen, I want to tell you that I’m sorry anyway.

Chris Swenson: Aw, man, don’t even worry about it.

He holds out his hand. Wolf shakes it and gets pulled in for another hug.

Chris Swenson: It’s in the past. It’s all good.

Wolf can’t believe this is turning out this way. The sense of relief he got from apologizing to his mother has returned. Still, he’s done his duty and would like to get out of this conversation. He stands up.

Dean Wolf: Hey, I still want to apologize to Mark and Joe. You still talk to them?

Chris Swenson: Naw, man I haven't talked to them in years. I couldn't even tell you where they live these days.

Dean Wolf: Alright, thanks anyway. Well, it’s good to see you, Chris. Take care of yourself.

He heads for the door.

Chris Swenson: Yeah, man. Let’s hang out sometime! I’m here most days!

Dean Wolf: Yeah, maybe, sure. See you later.

He exits the building.

Dean Wolf: Not happening.

He gets into his car.

Well, I can cross that name off this list. Now that that’s done, I can think of what I want to say to Mr. Fuckin’ A.

He turns the ignition and drives away. Chris is still in the gym, standing near the window, his eyes following Wolf until the car exits the parking lot. He continues to stand there for another minute, just staring out into a world that has passed him by, a world he thought he was the king of many years ago.
 

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The camera is focused on a TV screen which displays the image of Fuckin’ A. Off-camera, Wolf hits the play button and we hear the “intelligent” musings of Fuckin’ A.

“I don't give a fuck about winning.”

Pause. Rewind. Play.

“I don't give a fuck about winning.”

Pause. Rewind. Play.

“I don't give a fuck about winning.”

This continues until the camera fully pans out and we see the image of Dean Wolf standing near the TV screen holding a remote control.

Dean Wolf: Fuckin’ A, huh? That’s certainly a unique name. Maybe instead of calling you Fuckin’ A, we should all call you Stupid Asshole, because based on what I just heard in that little promo of yours, that’s exactly what you are.

He knocks over the monitor. Glass is heard breaking on the ground.

Dean Wolf: Oops. His face didn’t deserve to be on that screen anyway. In fact, I don’t think his face belongs on any screen promoting APW. You know why, Stupid Asshole? It’s because that little line I just played tells me everything I need to know about your attitude towards this business.

You don’t care about winning? Then what the fuck are you here for? What’s this all about for you? Are you one of these guys that just wants to fight for the sake of fighting? You want to commit violence just for the sake of committing violence? Listen, I have a history of violence myself and I’ve been fighting from a young age, but I continue to do it because it’s my livelihood and because I want to be the best at it. If you don’t care about winning and being the best, then you’re just like every other average Joe that never reached his full potential.

So I gotta ask, what the fuck are you in this for? Just to get your rocks off? Fuck that shit. You want to get your rocks off? Go to a local fucking pub and start a fight down there, but don’t waste your time and mine in an APW ring.

Maybe I should be happy to wrestle you this Monday on Metal. I mean, if your attitude is “I don’t care if I win,” then it should be an easy night for me.

On the other hand, being the best isn’t just about racking about wins. I could beat 100 scrubs in a row and I wouldn’t accomplish anything because anybody could beat those guys. What I want to do is beat my opponent when they’re at their best. That’s where the accomplishment lies for me.

But when I hear you say what you said in that promo, I don’t think you’re a guy that’s gonna give me his best. This match does nothing for me if you don’t come into the ring and give me 100% of your effort. I won’t gain anything by beating your ass except for maybe getting some practice for my match against Spartan at Ascension, but I won’t gain any more respect or notoriety by beating a guy that sees himself as nothing more than enhancement talent.

I hate to disrespect you like that but you if you don’t treat yourself with any self-respect as a professional, then why should I?

Then again, maybe you do care about winning but you’re not confident enough in yourself, so put up a front. That way, when you actually don’t win, you can fall back on “Well, I didn’t care about winning anyway.” Let me tell you something: saying that doesn’t make you cool. It doesn’t make you tough. It doesn’t give you a mental edge over me or any of your opponents. You know what it does? It shows me that your just a scared shitless kid. Some people in this business, in this life, grow up. You don’t seem to have reached that stage yet. You don’t seem to be man enough to accept defeat. You’re not confident enough to say “I am gonna win this week” and if you do fail, you’re not gonna be honest about it. You’re gonna throw your bullshit line out there.

I’m ashamed to say that I have to share the ring with you on Monday. How about you man up and grow a set of nuts? How about you actually try to win? Maybe you’re just too lazy to go to the gym and train. Maybe you’re more concerned with walking around some desert or having a one night stand with some chick you never speak to again. Maybe you lack the discipline to work on becoming the best. Maybe you realize that you don’t have a strong enough will to actually become motivated and become disciplined and actually try to improve at your craft.

I can’t believe that you were signed to a contract. I mean, with Irina as part of the management team, I guess it’s not that surprising. I’ll tell you this: your presence here makes the rest of us look Mickey Mouse. This is Alpha Pro Wrestling. Alpha: the top, the best, the ELITE of professional wrestling. You fucking come in here with your lacsadasical attitude and you cheapen this place. Wrestlers like Masuda and Road Dawg and Spartan and the Coalition and even Lucy Sixx work week in and week out to be the best that they can be. They are the best that this sport has to offer, and when you come in here and talk the way that you do, you make this promotion look second-rate. When the wrestling public hears and sees a guy like you associate yourself with this elite company, a lot of people probably think that we’re just a minor league promotion employing kids that are still at the development stage, kids that are basically wrestling fetuses. They won’t get how dynamic the APW talent roster has proven to be in its first two months.

We just had a great pay-per-view called Alpha Showdown, where everybody, including yours truly, put everything on the line to walk out of Las Vegas as a champion or walk out with a title shot. You had people out there putting on wrestling clinics, putting on a great show, bleeding and sweating just to be able to stake a claim for themselves in this young promotion. That’s what people should think about when they think of APW, not a schmuck who doesn’t have the discipline to be the best he can be.

If you don’t have enough confidence in yourself to take this sport seriously, then you don’t deserve to be here.

You need to show some more respect for this place, and that includes your opponents, and I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about a guy like Smith Jones, who you totally dismissed in your promo last week and treated like a jabroni. You know, the #1 contender for the World Title. I beat him, but did he let that stop him? No. He got back up, kept clawing, kept scratching, kept fighting, and in the end, won the Alpha Showdown. But what did you say about him.

“Oh, he’ll be there, too.”

He laughs.

Dean Wolf: Then what happened? Who was the jabroni in the end? You, Stupid Asshole. You weren’t even a part of the decision. You were on the sidelines. At least if you’d been pinned, you could have said that you went down fighting. You could have said you lost because someone bested you and incapacitated you. Instead, you just watched as someone took a victory from you without even having to pin your shoulders to the mat.

He laughs again.

Dean Wolf: Smith Jones wasn’t good enough to have your full attention? How do you look now? He’s the guy that won and could be a World Champion in a few weeks, and you didn’t have time for him. Trust me. I made the same mistake and I paid the price. The difference is I learn from my mistakes whereas I don’t even think you give your mistakes one thought.

Another laugh.

Dean Wolf: You’re a fucking jerk. I tell you what, kicking your ass this week will be more satisfying than kicking ZMAC’s. Speaking of ZMAC, you two are similar. I mean, not in prolificness. I don’t like him, but I have to acknowledge that everywhere he’s been outside of APW, he’s been a decorated champion, as opposed to you who hasn’t done shit. But you are similar in your proclivity towards talking about your opponents’ dead relatives. Now, I don’t want to go down the rabbit hole of ZMAC talking about my dead mother again, but I’ll tell you what: I don’t know Christian and I didn’t know his brother, but I bet his brother was more of a man than you. His brother sacrificed his life for this country, a sacrifice he didn’t have to make. His brother died like a man, fighting for something, unlike you who wouldn’t fight for anything meaningful because you’re too much of a pussy to fail.

If Christian wants to honor his brother by living out their wrestling dream, then who are you to criticize that decision? If he wants to honor his brother by stepping into the ring like a man and putting forth his best effort, win or lose, then he should be applauded. I’d rather fight him 10 times out of 10 than step in the ring with somebody like you, who doesn’t even show up to fight. He may have taken the pin last week, but at least he went down giving it his all, just like his brother died, giving it his all.

You? You’re too afraid to die. You’re too afraid to live. You’ll never take a chance and give your all to anything.

And in the end, when people are talking about all the wrestlers that made this promotion the best in the world, your name won’t be mentioned because you’re never going to do anything that anybody will ever remember.

The camera stays on Wolf's face as it fades to black.