Post by The Brothers Holland on Oct 22, 2010 18:53:16 GMT -6
You cannot stop him.
Many have tried.
Few have succeeded.
But he's different now.
Better. Stronger. Tougher.
You Cannot Stop Him.
No One Can.
*As the letters fade away into the background we can see the bedroom of Dave Holland and his wife. She's in bed, reading a book as she sits in place. At the side of the bed wearing only a pair of pyjama trousers is Dave Holland, doing press ups.*
He's been pushing himself like crazy for a while now. Ever since he decided he wanted to come back to wrestling. No one ever wondered why he did it. No one ever wondered how he burst back on the scene better than before, stronger... more successful than ever. No one ever looked at his record since returning. 9 wins from 10 matches, only one loss when he himself wasn't pinned. And not a single one of them were against competitors anything less than strong, anything less than great and accomplished in their own rights.
Mel: Dave, come back to bed.
Dave: In a bit. Just another hundred.
Mel: But you know you can do them. I know you can do them. They're not doing anything for you so why bother?
Dave: Because I can. I don't stop until the job's finished. Not even if I pass out from exhaustion I will not stop.
Mel: Dave... that sounds like obsession.
Dave: Almost... it's determination. Absolute determination.
He gives his all to everything that he does. I've seen it time and again. I've been alongside him at every step of the great evolution of Dave Holland. I've witnessed the transformation. I've seen the videos, I know that while he didn't go to actual therapy he did as he always does. He helped himself. He's stronger for it. In his heart he's stronger. In his soul he knows what he has to do and he is unrelenting in pursuing it.
This isn't what he's told me, this isn't what he wants me to know. If anything he'd rather I had nothing to do with his quest and his abilities. He'd rather I was uninvolved with his wrestling legacy as a whole... no, what I say is only what I see. What I see in the man I love.
Sometimes I wonder if he loves this game more than he loves me. But then I remember why he's doing it. He's not doing this for himself anymore. He's not even doing it for the glory of the spectacle itself. He's doing it for me... putting himself through the most trying dangers, the most dangerous opposition... all for me and the rest of us that believe in him. That have always believed in him. And for that reason I'll not stop him, though I'm sure I'm the only one who could.
You? Who are you to control his heart and stop him fighting? Who are you to think you can stop him achieving his heart's desire. He said you know him as well as anyone could inside that ring but I know him better than anyone at all. He cannot fail, he will not allow himself that luxury.
You cannot stop him.
Dave: One hundred. Right... shower then sleep.
*Dave stands up and leaves the room, heading into the en suite bathroom. Mel marks her place in the book and then gets out of bed, following Dave into the bathroom. The last thing we see of them is her nightdress being thrown through the door as it closes.*
You can't stop him.
I've seen Mr Holland tear through everything in his path and if there's one thing I know, it's that he has my mentality. He's like the Juggernaut, once he gets going, there's no stopping him. The further he goes, the faster he goes. The faster he goes, the harder he hits. The harder he hits, the less likely you're getting back up.
If you try too hard to block his way there's going to be some serious damage done to you. My boy is like a freight train as it rolls through the centre of town. He's picking up no passengers, making no stops. It's all the way for Mr Holland, Baby.
You can't stop him.
Hell, I couldn't stop him... even if I wanted to.
*The scene changes over to a path through the rain. Dave Holland is running along, not jogging, properly running. Right alongside him is long term friend and personal bodyguard, former Office Linebacker, Terry Tate.*
Dave: Come on Terry, keep up.
Terry: Sorry Mr Holland... not a long distance runner.
Dave: Nor am I, but here I go. And I told you, call me Dave.
Terry: But I'm a short sprint... big hit kind of guy... I don't do...
Dave: Alright, alright.
*Dave slows up his pace. Terry's breathing becomes immediately easier as he jogs along at a comfortable pace with his friend.*
Terry: Thanks Mr Holland.
Just look at him. Look at what he's done, who he's overcome. He came out the starters blocks like a hurricane from the ocean. He wasn't ever going to let up for anything, not even once hell itself had frozen over and satan was enjoying a tasty snowcone. Dirty Deal? Forget about them. Young guns? One at a time or all together, doesn't matter a damn bit, he beat them aside as they came. Line them up, he knocks them down and barely breaks his stride in doing so.
You think you can really withstand this great fighter? This awesome wrestler? This man who has been through hell and back several times in his life and has come out the other side with no fewer words on his lips than 'Thank You Sir Can I Have Another!'. Has he ever complained? No. Has he ever demanded? Hell no. Because he's Dave, middle name may as well be '*** damn' Holland. You owe him your respect, everyone does. It's all he's ever asked from people across the entirety of his personal history. And from what I've witnessed since he brought me into his personal 'enterprise' those years ago, that respect is rarely forthcoming. Which is a shame because it's not a reflection on him, hell no, baby.
It's a reflection on the poor saps who he competes with week to week. They're too busy dealing with themselves. Thinking their problems are bigger than everyone else. Thinking that because they have to hurt a man they can't respect him. That showing respect is showing weakness. That aint true. Aint nobody more respectful of his opponents than Mr Holland... it's just upsetting how few return the favour.
None of that matters though. What matters is that the pain train be a rollin. There aint no one can contend like Mr Holland can. He's shown that time and again over the weeks gone by and he'll keep on showing it with a smile on his face, a cheer in his throat and a big ol' shiny belt over his shoulder or round his waist, I dunno how he likes to wear it just yet... but we will. Just you all wait and see...
Mr Holland is going to tear this house to the very ground to get what he wants. Aint no one gonna stop him now.
Dave: What's up Terry?
Terry: Huh? Nothin'.
Dave: Seriously... you seem distracted.
Terry: Just thinkin'.
Dave: About what?
Terry: About how I'm jogging with a world champion.
Dave: Ha! Not yet you're not. Next week.
Next week? No chance. We're looking at a world champion in our midst already. All that needs doing is making it official, baby. That shouldn't be too hard for him... after all...
Aint no one can stop him.
Ummm... what should I say?
*The scene changes to a happy one. Dave and Mel are socialising with Milo and his girlfriend Jennifer Jones. It's Dave versus Jennifer in a bout of Rock Band. The score's pretty even but Jen does have a slight lead. It's her we're paying special attention to.*
Dave? He's going to be world champion? Well good for him.
What? He's not won yet? I thought he had, the way everyone's going on about it. Oh sorry. I guess I just haven't been paying that much attention. Sorry Dave, good luck with the match. I'll be hoping and praying for you.
Everyone's backing you so, I guess you can't fail.
*The scene changes again. Dave has returned to his personal favourite training ground. The ruined abbey in Ireland. It's cold, even colder thanks to the seafront location. Dave doesn't care though, he just trains the harder to keep himself warm. He's doing his usual martial artsy stuff but is backlit by the sun. Milo is in the foreground wearing a long leather trenchcoat to protect from the cold, leaning against a wall just watching his brother.*
You want to know the real Dave Holland huh? You want to know just what lengths he's willing and able to go to to get what he wants? To do what he wants? Let me tell you something about Dave Holland. Once he sets his mind on something... once he truly decides that it's a cause he absolutely has to see to the end... there is no way he's backing down. There is no way to convince him away from it.
There is literally no stopping him.
There isn't anyone who knows him better than me. Actually no, Mel might know him better but no one understands him better. Knowledge can be told, can be shared. Understanding can only be gained through experience... the kind of experience we went through as kids. Ever since those days I knew he'd end up doing something stupid like this. I knew he'd do something following his own sense of self-belief and righteousness that would get him noticed. He'd get himself rolling with some real momentum. Not a one off win that earned him a shot but a full blown streak that would show no signs of stopping.
Honestly, I thought Charlie might put a dent or two in him. Might caution him on the dangers of pissing off men who really are as dangerous as he or I am. But even after having his second opponent kick out of that mule kick of his, nothing. Even after going through all that to be hit with one hell of an attack... nothing. He's not even slowing down. Not even thinking of taking it easy. Not on himself, not on Curtis... not on anyone. He's training in every way he can just to 'keep himself level' as he's said to me a few times. And then there's more on top of that. Some of it I don't even get a chance to see. I have to babysit Alex for him or Jen's asked me to come over or just... something.
*Milo turns and the whole scene changes. We're now in a seedy basement. It's some kind of underground fight club, one Dave and Milo have been known to use before. Milo approaches two men at the back of a huge crowd.*
Milo: Vinnie, James. Good to see you guys again.
Vinnie: And you, Milo.
James: Aye. You and your brother both. Been a while since you swung by our neck of the woods.
Milo: I know, we've been... otherwise engaged.
James: You mean retired?
Milo: ....
James: What? I watch Telly. Been watching your boy too.
Vinnie: Aye, on telly and in the flesh. What's come over him?
Milo: Purpose.
James: Purpose? Didn't he already have that?
Milo: Not like this he didn't.
*There's a loud cheer and an announcement that sounds like a fight has just finished behind the huge crowd. The camera starts rising up to see over them. In the middle is Dave, his hand held aloft by another man. He's shirtless and sweaty but otherwise looks mostly unharmed.*
Vinnie: Jesus... he just beat Frank.
James: Frank? Did he do any damage at least?
Vinnie: Doesn't look like it.
James: I'd wish your boy luck, Milo but I get the impression it's this Curtis fella who needs the luck.
Too right he does. Because Dave wasn't wrong when he said he's all things to all people. He can bring any skill he needs to counter any moment. I've seen him face the fastest and outpace them. I've seen him face the strongest and overpower them. I've seen him face the toughest and endure beyond them. He's come so far in this tournament to get his world title shot number four... I know he has absolutely no intention of letting it slip through his fingers. He can do no wrong.
All hell can't stop him now.
He simply, Can't Fail.
*We change scene to Dave and his son in a playground somewhere. Dave is hanging upside down from some monkey bars and is gently swinging his son back and forth. A short distance away in the background we can see Dave's whole 'Enterprise' watching on. Melanie and Terry, Milo and Jennifer.*
My daddy's gonna win because he's the best in the whole world.
I Love you Daddy... I know you can't lose.
*Fade to black and end on the sound of Dave and Alex's laughter.*
Many have tried.
Few have succeeded.
But he's different now.
Better. Stronger. Tougher.
You Cannot Stop Him.
No One Can.
Fighting the Future - Part 8
Salvation - Part 2: Cannot Fail
"In the Lexicon of Youth, Which Fate Reserves for a Bright Manhood, There is No Such Word as Fail"
-Edward Bulwer-Lytton, English Poet
Salvation - Part 2: Cannot Fail
"In the Lexicon of Youth, Which Fate Reserves for a Bright Manhood, There is No Such Word as Fail"
-Edward Bulwer-Lytton, English Poet
*As the letters fade away into the background we can see the bedroom of Dave Holland and his wife. She's in bed, reading a book as she sits in place. At the side of the bed wearing only a pair of pyjama trousers is Dave Holland, doing press ups.*
He's been pushing himself like crazy for a while now. Ever since he decided he wanted to come back to wrestling. No one ever wondered why he did it. No one ever wondered how he burst back on the scene better than before, stronger... more successful than ever. No one ever looked at his record since returning. 9 wins from 10 matches, only one loss when he himself wasn't pinned. And not a single one of them were against competitors anything less than strong, anything less than great and accomplished in their own rights.
Mel: Dave, come back to bed.
Dave: In a bit. Just another hundred.
Mel: But you know you can do them. I know you can do them. They're not doing anything for you so why bother?
Dave: Because I can. I don't stop until the job's finished. Not even if I pass out from exhaustion I will not stop.
Mel: Dave... that sounds like obsession.
Dave: Almost... it's determination. Absolute determination.
He gives his all to everything that he does. I've seen it time and again. I've been alongside him at every step of the great evolution of Dave Holland. I've witnessed the transformation. I've seen the videos, I know that while he didn't go to actual therapy he did as he always does. He helped himself. He's stronger for it. In his heart he's stronger. In his soul he knows what he has to do and he is unrelenting in pursuing it.
This isn't what he's told me, this isn't what he wants me to know. If anything he'd rather I had nothing to do with his quest and his abilities. He'd rather I was uninvolved with his wrestling legacy as a whole... no, what I say is only what I see. What I see in the man I love.
Sometimes I wonder if he loves this game more than he loves me. But then I remember why he's doing it. He's not doing this for himself anymore. He's not even doing it for the glory of the spectacle itself. He's doing it for me... putting himself through the most trying dangers, the most dangerous opposition... all for me and the rest of us that believe in him. That have always believed in him. And for that reason I'll not stop him, though I'm sure I'm the only one who could.
You? Who are you to control his heart and stop him fighting? Who are you to think you can stop him achieving his heart's desire. He said you know him as well as anyone could inside that ring but I know him better than anyone at all. He cannot fail, he will not allow himself that luxury.
You cannot stop him.
Dave: One hundred. Right... shower then sleep.
*Dave stands up and leaves the room, heading into the en suite bathroom. Mel marks her place in the book and then gets out of bed, following Dave into the bathroom. The last thing we see of them is her nightdress being thrown through the door as it closes.*
You can't stop him.
I've seen Mr Holland tear through everything in his path and if there's one thing I know, it's that he has my mentality. He's like the Juggernaut, once he gets going, there's no stopping him. The further he goes, the faster he goes. The faster he goes, the harder he hits. The harder he hits, the less likely you're getting back up.
If you try too hard to block his way there's going to be some serious damage done to you. My boy is like a freight train as it rolls through the centre of town. He's picking up no passengers, making no stops. It's all the way for Mr Holland, Baby.
You can't stop him.
Hell, I couldn't stop him... even if I wanted to.
*The scene changes over to a path through the rain. Dave Holland is running along, not jogging, properly running. Right alongside him is long term friend and personal bodyguard, former Office Linebacker, Terry Tate.*
Dave: Come on Terry, keep up.
Terry: Sorry Mr Holland... not a long distance runner.
Dave: Nor am I, but here I go. And I told you, call me Dave.
Terry: But I'm a short sprint... big hit kind of guy... I don't do...
Dave: Alright, alright.
*Dave slows up his pace. Terry's breathing becomes immediately easier as he jogs along at a comfortable pace with his friend.*
Terry: Thanks Mr Holland.
Just look at him. Look at what he's done, who he's overcome. He came out the starters blocks like a hurricane from the ocean. He wasn't ever going to let up for anything, not even once hell itself had frozen over and satan was enjoying a tasty snowcone. Dirty Deal? Forget about them. Young guns? One at a time or all together, doesn't matter a damn bit, he beat them aside as they came. Line them up, he knocks them down and barely breaks his stride in doing so.
You think you can really withstand this great fighter? This awesome wrestler? This man who has been through hell and back several times in his life and has come out the other side with no fewer words on his lips than 'Thank You Sir Can I Have Another!'. Has he ever complained? No. Has he ever demanded? Hell no. Because he's Dave, middle name may as well be '*** damn' Holland. You owe him your respect, everyone does. It's all he's ever asked from people across the entirety of his personal history. And from what I've witnessed since he brought me into his personal 'enterprise' those years ago, that respect is rarely forthcoming. Which is a shame because it's not a reflection on him, hell no, baby.
It's a reflection on the poor saps who he competes with week to week. They're too busy dealing with themselves. Thinking their problems are bigger than everyone else. Thinking that because they have to hurt a man they can't respect him. That showing respect is showing weakness. That aint true. Aint nobody more respectful of his opponents than Mr Holland... it's just upsetting how few return the favour.
None of that matters though. What matters is that the pain train be a rollin. There aint no one can contend like Mr Holland can. He's shown that time and again over the weeks gone by and he'll keep on showing it with a smile on his face, a cheer in his throat and a big ol' shiny belt over his shoulder or round his waist, I dunno how he likes to wear it just yet... but we will. Just you all wait and see...
Mr Holland is going to tear this house to the very ground to get what he wants. Aint no one gonna stop him now.
Dave: What's up Terry?
Terry: Huh? Nothin'.
Dave: Seriously... you seem distracted.
Terry: Just thinkin'.
Dave: About what?
Terry: About how I'm jogging with a world champion.
Dave: Ha! Not yet you're not. Next week.
Next week? No chance. We're looking at a world champion in our midst already. All that needs doing is making it official, baby. That shouldn't be too hard for him... after all...
Aint no one can stop him.
Ummm... what should I say?
*The scene changes to a happy one. Dave and Mel are socialising with Milo and his girlfriend Jennifer Jones. It's Dave versus Jennifer in a bout of Rock Band. The score's pretty even but Jen does have a slight lead. It's her we're paying special attention to.*
Dave? He's going to be world champion? Well good for him.
What? He's not won yet? I thought he had, the way everyone's going on about it. Oh sorry. I guess I just haven't been paying that much attention. Sorry Dave, good luck with the match. I'll be hoping and praying for you.
Everyone's backing you so, I guess you can't fail.
*The scene changes again. Dave has returned to his personal favourite training ground. The ruined abbey in Ireland. It's cold, even colder thanks to the seafront location. Dave doesn't care though, he just trains the harder to keep himself warm. He's doing his usual martial artsy stuff but is backlit by the sun. Milo is in the foreground wearing a long leather trenchcoat to protect from the cold, leaning against a wall just watching his brother.*
You want to know the real Dave Holland huh? You want to know just what lengths he's willing and able to go to to get what he wants? To do what he wants? Let me tell you something about Dave Holland. Once he sets his mind on something... once he truly decides that it's a cause he absolutely has to see to the end... there is no way he's backing down. There is no way to convince him away from it.
There is literally no stopping him.
There isn't anyone who knows him better than me. Actually no, Mel might know him better but no one understands him better. Knowledge can be told, can be shared. Understanding can only be gained through experience... the kind of experience we went through as kids. Ever since those days I knew he'd end up doing something stupid like this. I knew he'd do something following his own sense of self-belief and righteousness that would get him noticed. He'd get himself rolling with some real momentum. Not a one off win that earned him a shot but a full blown streak that would show no signs of stopping.
Honestly, I thought Charlie might put a dent or two in him. Might caution him on the dangers of pissing off men who really are as dangerous as he or I am. But even after having his second opponent kick out of that mule kick of his, nothing. Even after going through all that to be hit with one hell of an attack... nothing. He's not even slowing down. Not even thinking of taking it easy. Not on himself, not on Curtis... not on anyone. He's training in every way he can just to 'keep himself level' as he's said to me a few times. And then there's more on top of that. Some of it I don't even get a chance to see. I have to babysit Alex for him or Jen's asked me to come over or just... something.
*Milo turns and the whole scene changes. We're now in a seedy basement. It's some kind of underground fight club, one Dave and Milo have been known to use before. Milo approaches two men at the back of a huge crowd.*
Milo: Vinnie, James. Good to see you guys again.
Vinnie: And you, Milo.
James: Aye. You and your brother both. Been a while since you swung by our neck of the woods.
Milo: I know, we've been... otherwise engaged.
James: You mean retired?
Milo: ....
James: What? I watch Telly. Been watching your boy too.
Vinnie: Aye, on telly and in the flesh. What's come over him?
Milo: Purpose.
James: Purpose? Didn't he already have that?
Milo: Not like this he didn't.
*There's a loud cheer and an announcement that sounds like a fight has just finished behind the huge crowd. The camera starts rising up to see over them. In the middle is Dave, his hand held aloft by another man. He's shirtless and sweaty but otherwise looks mostly unharmed.*
Vinnie: Jesus... he just beat Frank.
James: Frank? Did he do any damage at least?
Vinnie: Doesn't look like it.
James: I'd wish your boy luck, Milo but I get the impression it's this Curtis fella who needs the luck.
Too right he does. Because Dave wasn't wrong when he said he's all things to all people. He can bring any skill he needs to counter any moment. I've seen him face the fastest and outpace them. I've seen him face the strongest and overpower them. I've seen him face the toughest and endure beyond them. He's come so far in this tournament to get his world title shot number four... I know he has absolutely no intention of letting it slip through his fingers. He can do no wrong.
All hell can't stop him now.
He simply, Can't Fail.
*We change scene to Dave and his son in a playground somewhere. Dave is hanging upside down from some monkey bars and is gently swinging his son back and forth. A short distance away in the background we can see Dave's whole 'Enterprise' watching on. Melanie and Terry, Milo and Jennifer.*
My daddy's gonna win because he's the best in the whole world.
I Love you Daddy... I know you can't lose.
*Fade to black and end on the sound of Dave and Alex's laughter.*