Post by Pooler on Jun 21, 2011 16:35:06 GMT -6
Rebirth. In ones life we are rarely gifted with the opportunity for a second chance. Call it what you will, redemption, reincarnation or rebirth; they all mean the same thing. A fresh start, a clean slate if you will, where the sins and tragedies of your past are wiped from your record as you begin life anew with only the ability to either make whole new decisions, or damn yourself to another life of wasted opportunity. The idea of reincarnation or rebirth is something widely debated among various theologians. Some believe that at the end of this life we have the opportunity to be reborn again to live out and experience the joys and sorrows one more time. The others? Well, they believe that your merits and your actions in this life affect your transcendence into the hereafter where you spend all of eternity basking in the love and oneness with the Lord. But we need not turn this into a spiritual debate.
Not yet anyway.
Rarely in life are you given the chance, the opportunity, to start your life over. This doesn’t necessarily mean being reborn as an infant … but falls more under the category of reinventing yourself. We spend all our lives building ourselves up only for others to break us down. Little by little the walls we erect to protect crumble down until what and who we truly are lays open and exposed. Naked and crying for help we can not fathom how we got to this point. Labels and stigmas mar our bodies physically as well as emotionally. Rebirth in this case truly means being given the gift to reinvent who we are. Think of it as a life mulligan … a do-over of epic proportion. To some people this sport is a job; a means of making a living doing something you enjoy. To others it’s more than just their livelihood. This job represents something on a much deeper, more profound level. To some, the idea of giving up the comfort of being the big fish in a little pond is terrifying. Their whole careers have been spent building to this point haven’t they? Becoming so marketable that they’ve transcended merely entertaining; the burdens of the ego maniacs at their best. But for others, to be able to look around the locker room and know that each and every one of those men and women respects them because of their legacy; to them that’s what’s most terrifying to ever relinquish. How do you go from being everything … to being nothing?
The big fish can’t thrive in a small pond forever. At some point he’ll need to seek out a bigger stomping ground in order to survive. I was the biggest fish in my pond for a few years; I had the respect, the admiration and the ability to tell management what I wanted knowing I’d get it. Look at where that got me? A reservation on the unemployment line when, what I considered to be, my whole world went belly up. Now I’m faced with the prospect of starting fresh; I can build a new life here in nCw can’t I? Few men in my position have the ability to learn from the sins of their past and use that knowledge to forge ahead and pave a path to their future. If there’s one thing the nCw faithful have learned about me at the point, it’s that I’m not like most people.
Welcome to my world; welcome to my clean slate.
This is my … rebirth.
___________________________
“There’s only so much I can do here, my hands are tied. If I don’t pull through on this ...”
It was a cold evening. Cold and wet even by UK standards. The heat wave that had been gripping the majority of the country seemed to have let up for the time being. In its place a torrent of rain had been falling, washing away the sins of today and cleaning the slate for tomorrow. Stupid, stupid miserable weather which only made the mood in the room that much more tense; while the heat made it difficult to move about outside the rain made it nearly impossible. Bobby Donnelly stood with his forehead pressed against the window, enjoying the coolness of the glass. The soothing rainfall wasn’t soothing this man … not tonight anyway.
“I can do this … ”
He pulled his head off the glass but didn’t bother turning around. With the room illuminated he was able to simply see behind himself with a glance. The clock on the wall reads nine-thirty. If he’s going to make it to the pub on time he needs to leave. From the hovel of a hotel he’s been calling home it’s nearly a ten minute walk to the nearest tube station. If he wasn’t there on time, there was no way Pooler would hang around.
Donnelly closes his eyes and places his head once more against the window. He begins to lightly beat his forehead against the glass. His right hand joins his head, his fingers splayed against the glass in an attempt to absorb what coolness he could in order to temper the fear building inside. Last time he allowed his fear to get the best of him he lashed out and ended up in the hospital with a broken nose and a couple fingers to boot. Donnelly. His eyes open as the phone on the bed begins to vibrate and falls to the floor with a dull thud.
“Well this can’t be good.”
Donnelly turns from the window, a small red mark on his forehead that begins fading immediately. He crosses to the cell phone and lifts it from the floor as he scans the name displayed on the front. Smiling, he flips it open and almost purrs into the receiver.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite …”
He’s cut off by whoever is on the other end of the line. Donnelly’s face quickly goes from confident to concern. The corners of his mouth begin to droop and his eyebrows furrow. He takes a mighty breath before finally speaking once more.
”Right, well consider me good for it mate. After this weekend you and me … we’re square got it? I’m done after this, no more.”
Donnelly pauses once more, his free hand reaching up to massage his forehead right at the hairline.
”It’s a done deal mate. My word may not be worth much anymore but you can be damn sure that you’ll have your money … with interest.”
He says nothing for a moment. The look on his crestfallen face speaks in place of his lost voice. He flips the phone closed with his thumb and casts a quick glance back at the clock and curses beneath his breath. Donnelly tucks his cell phone into his back pocket and heads for the door. His hand reaches towards the knob but pauses, his fingers trembling in the air. He turns and looks back at glass window on the other side of the room. He looks at his reflection for a moment; the hairs on the back of Donnelly’s neck begin to prickle and he can feel a cold sweat break out.
“Wh … what the hell is wrong with you? Stupid git …”
Of course there’s no answer but Donnelly’s goosebumps tell him something’s wrong. The cold sweat, the goosebumps, Donnelly feels like a five year old kid again looking headlong into his grandfather’s old cellar back in Manchester. Donnelly yanks open the door and stumbles backwards into the railing separating his room from the parking lot. He turns and heads towards the well lit walkway; it might as well be a hundred feet away because Donnelly’s legs feel like solid lead weights. He turns back towards his room to only the darkness of the room behind him. As he fumbles forward once more he suddenly realizes he’s been holding his breath the whole … bloody … time.
___________________________
”Could this be too much to believe? I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop but so far it’s not raining size tens. Almost feels like old times when I look at the lovely little note on nCw letterhead. So formal it gives me shivers each time I read it.”
MEMO
Robert,
On behalf of New Championship Wrestling we would like to congratulate you on your recent matches. You have been entered in a four way match, the winner of which will be named the NUMBER ONE CONTENDER to the nCw HONOR CHAMPIONSHIP. We wish you the best of luck.
Sincerely,
Wes Fox
”Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not nearly as perfect as I like to imagine, but from what I have been seeing in recent weeks I don’t have to be for my message to get across. Months I spent wondering if I’d pick up the boots and give this whole thing another go round after being burnt so badly by Davey ****ing Boone. I put myself out there, gave nCw a shot and kept my mouth shut and my ears open. I spent weeks silently listening to you all as you waste your time and energy focusing on idiotic battles that can’t be won. You spend countless hours in verbal sparing matches with each other. Well, now things are a little different. Because now that verbal tete-a-tete is with a man half your size and twice your intelligence. Now, I may be small in stature but I’m large in personality; I am exactly what I appear to be. I don’t hide **** beneath the surface, I don’t mince words and I certainly don’t seek to be anything that I’m not. To many of you I’m a distraction in an ADHD infested company. My distraction are my words, they are the chaos that allows and actions to succeed. In a different era I’d have been a pretty good slight of hand illusionist. A man who’d catch your attention and keep it long enough for your pocket to be picked by accomplices. Times change but strategies do not. While you have focused your energies elsewhere I’ve gotten a successful start in this company with three solid victories and now stand poised to continue my run through this company and take something that you hold dear. Soon, I’ll take over the status as your number one contender status for the Honor Championship.
But look at just one of the three who stand in my way. Joe … Everyman. I know what you want. You want me to do what everyone else has done and sing your praises; talk about how brilliant you are and how close this match will be. You want that, but you won’t be hearing that **** from me. I’m not like the rest of the sheep you’ve faced in this company. Your simple mind has focused long and hard on the wrong things. You look left when you should look right, but this week I’ll do you a favor and come straight down the middle. We’ve never done this dance before but I’ve seen your kind far too often in this business. Brash and full of piss and spite. You’ve found yourself in countless fights over the years haven’t you Joe? Hell, you can’t throw a rock in the records room at nCw headquarters without coming into contact with at least four of your failed tag teams. It’s just the same thing over and over again each time you step into the ring isn’t it? I honestly thought that it was just Kristoff’s personality coming across when he would speak about you; the weak and ill equipped Joe Everyman. But you know Joe; there was something about you that seemed too familiar. I’ve seen your face, heard your name … elsewhere. I couldn’t put my finger on it at the time but then it came to me. Your familiarity stems from your reputation that follows you around like a stink. Wrestlers grow up telling their children stories at bedtime about the joke that is Joe Everyman. You are clumsy and lack the skill to carry, for lack of a better word, honor of vying for a championship as a true contender. Your ambitions are lofty while your means are few. You have, if memory serves, been down this road before though haven’t you? Each time you are handed the opportunity for greatness, the opportunity to prove yourself you end up squandering it and end up walking away with empty hands and a heavy heart. You’re the veteran in this company compared to me. I’ve already proven that I’m no joke, that I’m not a flash in the pan like so many, like yourself, eventually prove to be.
I’m sure you’ll tune in eventually and hear this. Maybe it’ll be posted on your favorite wrestling website somewhere amidst the blogosphere, maybe it’ll somehow be sent directly to you through iTunes. Hell, for all I know this’ll be transcribed and you’ll get the RSS feed on your Blackberry. I don’t care how it happens, but the result will be the same. You’ll listen to me and hear the confidence in my voice. You’re going to hate that; confidence is power, something you know. You’ll do your best to discredit me, discredit what I’ve said and try to chalk it all up to the overconfidence of a man who seems overly focused on only one cog in the greater wheel that is our Four Way match this weekend. Don’t worry Joe-Joe, they’ll have their moment in the spotlight soon enough. Right now I’m focused solely on you.
Ordinarily I would grow tired waiting for the back and forth verbal battle that takes place each week before even getting to the venue. This week, the truth is I’m looking forward to it; Kristoff has seemed to light a bit of a different spark inside of me. He gave me hope that being an insufferable bastard really can finally paying off. So what’s it going to be Joe? At this stage in my career it’s, really, all been said before by men of varying intelligence so if you think that you have something different to say than please, step up to the microphone and make sure you speak clearly. I’ve heard it. Whatever witty little nicknames you come up with, whatever clever analogy that strikes you, whatever manner you take to sully my reputation, in the end … it won’t matter; your words are hollow Mr. Everyman. Predator or prey, hunter or hunted … the time for labels is over, much like your hopes at an Honor title reign.
Ah, bet you thought I’d be done with the fun there. Well, I don’t believe in stopping while I’m ahead. A wise man learns from his mistakes Joe. He reflects on them and doesn’t make those mistakes again. A wise man also knows when he’s outmatched. Are you a wise man Joe? Have you been learning from your mistakes? Well, we’re finally going to find that out aren’t we? We’ll see if you can win when faced with true challengers.
But you won’t Joe. You won’t because; while you do show flashes of talent … you just aren’t good enough.
With a win at Rebirth, I will cement myself as a legitimate threat in this company. My win will be the culmination of everything I’ve been saying since DAY ONE. I’ll have proven the doubters wrong and put to rest the questions and commentary from armchair quarterbacks around across this bloody country.
I’m Bob Pooler …
What will I do next?”