Post by Chris Gardner on Sept 21, 2011 21:36:11 GMT -6
This scene opens up in a restaurant in Manhattan, New York, as you can see this old lady here enjoying a Caesar.
And as your image pans around the restaurant, you can see me, Chris Gardner, and my wife Linda across the table, having our dinner as well. This woman across from me is none other than Heather Gardner... My mother.
I take my time savoring the food, as I assemble the best choice of words to answer her latest question: how was my father doing. It's already widely know that the old fart is but a big son of a..., but we need to face the truth - he had two children with that woman. And given I was the last one to pay a visit to the grumpy old man, it's only obvious that my old lady would like to know some about him. Linda had stayed quiet for the whole night. I can tell by her face that this is something that bothers me in some way, mainly because it most likely bothers me to death. But it's something we have to face off against one day or another.
Christian: Looks... Good. He's being well treated up there in prison. All healthy and twee. Hmm - and somewhat overly joyed after I told him about Alysson and Michael.
Heather: Well, he did have reasons not to approve of Marianne's way of life...
Marianne being Aly's second name. We're still talking about the same redhead.
Heather: I just hope he isn't planning anything cunning like last time...
Christian: Well, he did end up in prison for his smart-assery after all.
The lady scoffs. Being a botanist, she's from a world WAY different than ours. I guess she never got used to the lifestyle of her offspring, and is still getting used to see me and Aly growing not only into full-fledged wrestlers, but dating with fellow wrestlers as well. Can never forget her first comment when she met Linda in the first time - "Um, she is rather strong, isn't she?"
Ironically enough, she dealt with Alysson's bisexuality very nicely, as it was something usual. She even approved of Alysson and her former girlfriend, Gabrielle Crimson. But seeing things running "their rightful course", she takes the liberty to take a little bit more of pride in her little girl.
Heather: And how about this Michael boy?
She serves herself with a handkerchief cleaning the sides of her mouth before continuing herself.
Heather: How has he been treating your sister?
Christian: She looks to be pretty much in love with him, and happy, so that's what matters the most, isn't--
Heather: How is he like?
Oh gosh. Here comes the interrogation session.
Christian: Much like Aly. He's pretty active, they like the same kind of music, work in the same company... Pretty much like the perfect couple.
Heather: So he's a wrestler too.
She lets her sentence between her teeth in a somewhat disapproval tone.
Christian: And a good one, too. Very professional and, uh...
Heather: I'm just afraid one of these days Marianne and these boys she hangs out with turn out to be just like me and your father.
She lowers her head, as I scratch my head, not really understanding where she's coming from. But still, I have to stand up for my brother in law.
Christian: If you're afraid that Alysson may get hurt sometime by any means, don't worry. Linda and I are here for her. And it's not like he's going to, say, flip out and raise his hands against her. Not like I'm ever gonna LET him.
I take a bite of my roast chicken breast, as Linda finally mutters her first words of the night.
Linda: He has an infant son.
And that, like magic, seems to brither my mother's mood about Spike. Damn women and their tricky maneuvers!
Heather: He does? What's his name?
Linda: Xander, isn't it?
Christian: Yes, Xander Kane.
Heather: She must be happy, then! She always lamented not being able to bear children...
Linda and I nod. Mission accomplished - way to go, Linda! (And at this moment, we secretly high-five under the table.)
Heather: You know what, Christian? I'm staying here in America for a little longer before coming back to Paris.
Christian: Hmmm?
Heather: I want to know this Michael boy. And see how he's treating Marianne, maybe get to know his son. I just NEED to see how happy is your sister.
And this is how the whole problem begins. Linda and I share a preocupation glance, as if we told one another... "Oh, crap."
This is funny: all I’ve been hearing so far from every side is how Leonard Fox could be the mastermind behind a conspiracy, how all of the men that claim to be the best that New Championship Wrestling has to offer are on the brink of being screwed over by the old guy, and how everybody else, including me, can turn out to be a pawn for the whole plan, a cog in the dreams-destroying machine of an old man, obsessed with having the last word on every single thing he does.
Let’s try looking at thing from another angle and see this three-way match exactly the way it is – a three-way match for a championship belt. Let’s be realistic, gentlemen: there’s no wrestling if there’s no fight. I, as a former Honor Champion, know exactly how it feels to be on both sides of the fence – defender and contender. And that’s exactly what this match means to me: a championship match, where I can achieve my second championship in nCw. And after I do, if I do, I shall celebrate with my peers, have a good time, and get ready to defend it when it’s convenient.
If even after that, gentlemen, you can’t face the business with this same low-level sight that I’m proposing, and keep overthinking about how that old fart Leo Fox can screw around with your careers, then I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news here, as you might be suffering from a deep, severe case of paranoia.
It’s borderline comical if we think about it – we have Trent Helms crying his way into the Hall of Fame, claiming it’s all fault of the Board of Directors that doesn’t want him to be there, and you two going the very same way – Alex telling the world of how undeserving of a World Championship shot Ricky Johnson is, Robbie’s claims about a self-imposed dictatorship on where the top dogs feel the need to silence the one voice of the unheard. I thought Fox’s only problem around here was with the Knites? Hell, he’s even sent a couple of hired guns to take King out, and if you guys want my opinion, we should all be minding our own businesses while they’re at it. Unless you want to take part in this spat.
You guys have bred so many chaotic conspiracy theories inside your heads with all this bureaucratic storage wars that it makes it extremely easy to get into them. You guys are blinding yourselves to a point of no return. You’re making weak shells out of your own selves. Say, Verona, what if I indeed was Leonard’s hired gun to take you down? How would this affect our bout? Would it be any easier for me to pin you down to the mat for the three-count? Would it grow any sort of sudden deafness into the referees so they would mistake your battle cries for quits? Say, Alex, if I really got into this Championship match for being an ass kisser, what would be my next step? Would it be so certain of me to walk out of Battlegrounds with a belt that you claim to be yours just as much as the World Title as a reward for being a faithful pawn? Is it really that easy for you guys to believe that you are being and are going to be screwed out of your destinies just because some bigger guy feels the urge to silence and debase you by throwing his peasantry against you?
I almost feel sorry for you.
The facts aren’t as hard and cold as we with them to be, but maybe, just maybe, I may have earned this opportunity for the National Championship by beating Adam Knite. Maybe the guys in the back think I’m deserving of a chance. Maybe they just threw the so-called no-hoper into the match so the big bads wouldn’t have to worry about beating one another to a pulp so they could focus on their divine missions. Or maybe the no-hoper is hiding an atomic bomb, ready to blow up at any moment. The possibilities are infinite. I say we should let this whole crap aside and give the crowd the show they’re paying for. Want it or not, our salaries are being well paid, and I know that just like me, you guys like what you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t be feeding imaginary armies inside your heads so to emerge into war with the guy next door if he looks too suspicious.
And by the way, this is not conformism... It’s called another way of seeing things.
I don’t take any of my words back, though. Alex, I once again thank you for our match back then; more than just a matter of wins and losses, it was one hell of a chance for me to prove myself against one of the best this company has to offer. Same goes to you, Verona, as I’ve seen you crash way more parties and winning more championships than I could, given we joined this company virtually at the same time, which proves you’re by no means a pushback. The two of you are talent that I thrive to be in the ring with, just because of my love for good competition. I’ve seen what you guys have done to men like Venom and many, many others that people like to classify as the best nCw has to offer.
But in the other hand, I have my share of my statistics. Sure, I may have lost more times than I’ve won matches, and my career may be marked by injury reports and controversial relationships. And maybe I’ve made more enemies and naysayers than allies and friends. But just like you, Verona, I didn’t lose that championship match when they decided it was a good idea for me to face off with a man two times bigger than me in Lex Sense. Sure, I did walk out of that ring with an injured rib and a whole lot of bruises, but I also took the Honor Championship with me. And let the history books say that, up to this very moment, I still am the most successful Honor Champion that nCw has ever had, having defended it effectively more times than anyone else ever could. I made a go of it in a time that Spike Kane’s most prized creation was being treated like horse crap. And just like you, Alex, I’ve beaten Hall of Famers before, and I would like to believe I have proved to everybody that even though I may not really be in the same level as you say you are, I can try to hang out with people like you and maybe people could believe and buy into it that I could be one of you top guys.
And most important of all... I have already beaten the both of you before in a match. Doesn’t mean I WILL, but sure as damn means I CAN, and I’ll do everything in my power to do that again, because that’s what I’m supposed to do for a living: win matches.
Expect from me the very same thing I expect from you, gentlemen: no less than one hundred eleven percent of your willpower, and an undying desire to become better and better until we may finally become the best in what we do. Because this match, for me, is more than just a reality check revolving around directors, executives, entrepreneurs and self-proclaimed saviors with television time. It’s about the National Championship. And I want to give it its rightful worth. I hope you guys expect the same.
And let’s nevermind this entire whirlwind of senseless plotting. It's not about being muffled for claiming what you think it's rightfully yours, whatever it may be. If only it was that simple. Being edgy and controversial and challenging the status quo may be good for the business, because that's what puts asses on those seats... Not conspiracy theories.
And as your image pans around the restaurant, you can see me, Chris Gardner, and my wife Linda across the table, having our dinner as well. This woman across from me is none other than Heather Gardner... My mother.
I take my time savoring the food, as I assemble the best choice of words to answer her latest question: how was my father doing. It's already widely know that the old fart is but a big son of a..., but we need to face the truth - he had two children with that woman. And given I was the last one to pay a visit to the grumpy old man, it's only obvious that my old lady would like to know some about him. Linda had stayed quiet for the whole night. I can tell by her face that this is something that bothers me in some way, mainly because it most likely bothers me to death. But it's something we have to face off against one day or another.
Christian: Looks... Good. He's being well treated up there in prison. All healthy and twee. Hmm - and somewhat overly joyed after I told him about Alysson and Michael.
Heather: Well, he did have reasons not to approve of Marianne's way of life...
Marianne being Aly's second name. We're still talking about the same redhead.
Heather: I just hope he isn't planning anything cunning like last time...
Christian: Well, he did end up in prison for his smart-assery after all.
The lady scoffs. Being a botanist, she's from a world WAY different than ours. I guess she never got used to the lifestyle of her offspring, and is still getting used to see me and Aly growing not only into full-fledged wrestlers, but dating with fellow wrestlers as well. Can never forget her first comment when she met Linda in the first time - "Um, she is rather strong, isn't she?"
Ironically enough, she dealt with Alysson's bisexuality very nicely, as it was something usual. She even approved of Alysson and her former girlfriend, Gabrielle Crimson. But seeing things running "their rightful course", she takes the liberty to take a little bit more of pride in her little girl.
Heather: And how about this Michael boy?
She serves herself with a handkerchief cleaning the sides of her mouth before continuing herself.
Heather: How has he been treating your sister?
Christian: She looks to be pretty much in love with him, and happy, so that's what matters the most, isn't--
Heather: How is he like?
Oh gosh. Here comes the interrogation session.
Christian: Much like Aly. He's pretty active, they like the same kind of music, work in the same company... Pretty much like the perfect couple.
Heather: So he's a wrestler too.
She lets her sentence between her teeth in a somewhat disapproval tone.
Christian: And a good one, too. Very professional and, uh...
Heather: I'm just afraid one of these days Marianne and these boys she hangs out with turn out to be just like me and your father.
She lowers her head, as I scratch my head, not really understanding where she's coming from. But still, I have to stand up for my brother in law.
Christian: If you're afraid that Alysson may get hurt sometime by any means, don't worry. Linda and I are here for her. And it's not like he's going to, say, flip out and raise his hands against her. Not like I'm ever gonna LET him.
I take a bite of my roast chicken breast, as Linda finally mutters her first words of the night.
Linda: He has an infant son.
And that, like magic, seems to brither my mother's mood about Spike. Damn women and their tricky maneuvers!
Heather: He does? What's his name?
Linda: Xander, isn't it?
Christian: Yes, Xander Kane.
Heather: She must be happy, then! She always lamented not being able to bear children...
Linda and I nod. Mission accomplished - way to go, Linda! (And at this moment, we secretly high-five under the table.)
Heather: You know what, Christian? I'm staying here in America for a little longer before coming back to Paris.
Christian: Hmmm?
Heather: I want to know this Michael boy. And see how he's treating Marianne, maybe get to know his son. I just NEED to see how happy is your sister.
And this is how the whole problem begins. Linda and I share a preocupation glance, as if we told one another... "Oh, crap."
This is funny: all I’ve been hearing so far from every side is how Leonard Fox could be the mastermind behind a conspiracy, how all of the men that claim to be the best that New Championship Wrestling has to offer are on the brink of being screwed over by the old guy, and how everybody else, including me, can turn out to be a pawn for the whole plan, a cog in the dreams-destroying machine of an old man, obsessed with having the last word on every single thing he does.
Let’s try looking at thing from another angle and see this three-way match exactly the way it is – a three-way match for a championship belt. Let’s be realistic, gentlemen: there’s no wrestling if there’s no fight. I, as a former Honor Champion, know exactly how it feels to be on both sides of the fence – defender and contender. And that’s exactly what this match means to me: a championship match, where I can achieve my second championship in nCw. And after I do, if I do, I shall celebrate with my peers, have a good time, and get ready to defend it when it’s convenient.
If even after that, gentlemen, you can’t face the business with this same low-level sight that I’m proposing, and keep overthinking about how that old fart Leo Fox can screw around with your careers, then I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news here, as you might be suffering from a deep, severe case of paranoia.
It’s borderline comical if we think about it – we have Trent Helms crying his way into the Hall of Fame, claiming it’s all fault of the Board of Directors that doesn’t want him to be there, and you two going the very same way – Alex telling the world of how undeserving of a World Championship shot Ricky Johnson is, Robbie’s claims about a self-imposed dictatorship on where the top dogs feel the need to silence the one voice of the unheard. I thought Fox’s only problem around here was with the Knites? Hell, he’s even sent a couple of hired guns to take King out, and if you guys want my opinion, we should all be minding our own businesses while they’re at it. Unless you want to take part in this spat.
You guys have bred so many chaotic conspiracy theories inside your heads with all this bureaucratic storage wars that it makes it extremely easy to get into them. You guys are blinding yourselves to a point of no return. You’re making weak shells out of your own selves. Say, Verona, what if I indeed was Leonard’s hired gun to take you down? How would this affect our bout? Would it be any easier for me to pin you down to the mat for the three-count? Would it grow any sort of sudden deafness into the referees so they would mistake your battle cries for quits? Say, Alex, if I really got into this Championship match for being an ass kisser, what would be my next step? Would it be so certain of me to walk out of Battlegrounds with a belt that you claim to be yours just as much as the World Title as a reward for being a faithful pawn? Is it really that easy for you guys to believe that you are being and are going to be screwed out of your destinies just because some bigger guy feels the urge to silence and debase you by throwing his peasantry against you?
I almost feel sorry for you.
The facts aren’t as hard and cold as we with them to be, but maybe, just maybe, I may have earned this opportunity for the National Championship by beating Adam Knite. Maybe the guys in the back think I’m deserving of a chance. Maybe they just threw the so-called no-hoper into the match so the big bads wouldn’t have to worry about beating one another to a pulp so they could focus on their divine missions. Or maybe the no-hoper is hiding an atomic bomb, ready to blow up at any moment. The possibilities are infinite. I say we should let this whole crap aside and give the crowd the show they’re paying for. Want it or not, our salaries are being well paid, and I know that just like me, you guys like what you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t be feeding imaginary armies inside your heads so to emerge into war with the guy next door if he looks too suspicious.
And by the way, this is not conformism... It’s called another way of seeing things.
I don’t take any of my words back, though. Alex, I once again thank you for our match back then; more than just a matter of wins and losses, it was one hell of a chance for me to prove myself against one of the best this company has to offer. Same goes to you, Verona, as I’ve seen you crash way more parties and winning more championships than I could, given we joined this company virtually at the same time, which proves you’re by no means a pushback. The two of you are talent that I thrive to be in the ring with, just because of my love for good competition. I’ve seen what you guys have done to men like Venom and many, many others that people like to classify as the best nCw has to offer.
But in the other hand, I have my share of my statistics. Sure, I may have lost more times than I’ve won matches, and my career may be marked by injury reports and controversial relationships. And maybe I’ve made more enemies and naysayers than allies and friends. But just like you, Verona, I didn’t lose that championship match when they decided it was a good idea for me to face off with a man two times bigger than me in Lex Sense. Sure, I did walk out of that ring with an injured rib and a whole lot of bruises, but I also took the Honor Championship with me. And let the history books say that, up to this very moment, I still am the most successful Honor Champion that nCw has ever had, having defended it effectively more times than anyone else ever could. I made a go of it in a time that Spike Kane’s most prized creation was being treated like horse crap. And just like you, Alex, I’ve beaten Hall of Famers before, and I would like to believe I have proved to everybody that even though I may not really be in the same level as you say you are, I can try to hang out with people like you and maybe people could believe and buy into it that I could be one of you top guys.
And most important of all... I have already beaten the both of you before in a match. Doesn’t mean I WILL, but sure as damn means I CAN, and I’ll do everything in my power to do that again, because that’s what I’m supposed to do for a living: win matches.
Expect from me the very same thing I expect from you, gentlemen: no less than one hundred eleven percent of your willpower, and an undying desire to become better and better until we may finally become the best in what we do. Because this match, for me, is more than just a reality check revolving around directors, executives, entrepreneurs and self-proclaimed saviors with television time. It’s about the National Championship. And I want to give it its rightful worth. I hope you guys expect the same.
And let’s nevermind this entire whirlwind of senseless plotting. It's not about being muffled for claiming what you think it's rightfully yours, whatever it may be. If only it was that simple. Being edgy and controversial and challenging the status quo may be good for the business, because that's what puts asses on those seats... Not conspiracy theories.