Post by Amy Jo Smyth on Oct 21, 2017 22:22:49 GMT -5
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Every match is just as important as the last. Even if it's just a humdrum, everyday singles match high up on the card for a house show with no titles or contenderships on the line. It could start a successful winning streak that will carry you to the record books. Hell, it could be that one match you need to take you to a title shot. You don't take any match off or take anything for granted.
When your champion, you especially don't take anything for granted, you take absolutely no days off, and you do not - fucking do NOT think of a match as unimportant. Doesn't matter who you're facing or when or how. Title or no title. The simple truth is, you have a reputation to uphold. Not just your own, but that of the title, of the place that you hold the title in. Trust me, people will pounce on any little weakness that you show. Your enemies and those that want the title will seize upon a failure and rush forward with it, waving it like a banner. A champion already has a target on his or her back and nobody needs to have them more ammo. There are a lot of people out there who love to trash the current champion. It's easy to trash something than it is to lift something or someone up. These same big mouths have never found themselves in such a spot, either. Just wait until they get there.
Ha.
To lose to anyone, at any time, even in an exhibition match is disastrous. To lose to numerous people is even worse. What kind of champion are you? You're a weak champion. To lose to so many proves that there are others better suited to hold your title. Everyone has off days, even champions, but many, especially in a row is just inexcusable and undeniable.
Losing to someone, when you're champion, opens a very dangerous door and gives someone a chance to challenge you and could very possibly and should in most circles, bump you up the ranking real fast, if not make you the number one contender. Nobody needs that. Nobody wants that.
So, give a hundred and ten percent every match.
It also helps reminds people as to why you're the champion. Never left them forget. Never, ever give them a reason to doubt you while giving them a reason to want the title that much more. You don't just earn a belt and it stops there. No. You earn a status and is your fucking job to uphold that. So when I face Samantha Tolson it will be as if the L.A.W. Championship were on the line.
As least from my standpoint anyway.
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In the Continuing Adventures of Our Hero...
◀◀ Be Kind, Rewind
We were here not too long ago, celebrating with family and friends. Things were just fine. Warm with the wind coming in off the water, scented sweetly with sand and salt, keeping the heat and humidity at bay. Skies were clear, nearly cloudless, an almost artificial shade of perfect blue without a drop of rain in sight for dozens and dozens miles. Without a doubt, the weather had blessed us on a day that had taken nearly year to plan. Mother Nature had wanted us to enjoy this day and made damn sure that we did. Even the Hemingway Cats had a good time, mingling with the guests and demanding attention. One even had the nerve to sit quietly and still at Allison’s feet as she took the vows.
That moment is forever ingrained in my memory. Allison in the white, purely cotton strappy summer dress, holding my hand for dear life because all this attention is causing the already hyper butterflies in her stomach to go wild, laughing about the six-toed tabby just chilling at her. The picture on my desk capturing the moment sitting on my desk helps, too. The other picture, though, that one is a little harder to cope with right now. The happy couple in front of their newly purchased home. A bright pink shotgun house with dark blue shutters, two stubby palm trees in the front yard, a short limestone wall surrounding the front, and the bushy arms of the neighbor’s lime tree hanging over a chainlink fence meaning free limes whenever we want them. All of it within walking distance of Duval Street and he beach.
My beautiful bride had been there half a day before she started gussying up the place. Once the inside was decorated, she moved to the outside to the landscaping. With the help of a local laborer, a garden full of tropical plants were put in and all kinds of nautical, beach themed decorations were put up, playing along with the kitschy, campy theme that is the whole of Key West. A damn pink flamingo would greet any passersby and Allison was damn proud of that. Even though we don’t live down there year round, we still became a part of the community and neighbors accepted as just as much they do the people who live there year-round.
Now things have changed so much. Things are no longer fine and it looks like a very different place than when we were down here last. It probably looked much, much worse after the initial impact. Time has passed, people have cleaned up, and they’re doing their best to get back to normal. It has, too, for the most part. The shops, bars, and restaurants on Duval are open and operating, teeming with locals and tourists, having recovered quickly and nicely from the flooding and ceaseless winds that once ravaged the area. Go a few blocks down and it’s a different story. An entire mobile home park was decimated. Piles of trash and debris line the curbs, waiting for pickup from the town or some governmental entity to carry them away, out of sight and out of mind.
This isn’t the island’s first hurricane and it won’t be the last, but it’s the most recent and the one that burns fresh in everyone’s mind. Burns or stings, take your pick. It’s a matter of how much you lost. For us, we have a general idea of what we lost but pictures and descriptions from our caretaker, neighbors, and local officials doesn’t do it justice.
We made a slow pass by the Hemingway House, finding it perfectly fine, and remembering that we will always have that square, green house, and the cats. We prepare ourselves mentally for what will find at our house with the good things. The rental car drives easy and quiet, allowing me to take in more and more of the houses. It won’t be long until we reach our home. What’s left of it anyway.
In my staring, I bump the curb and hope to God I haven’t done any kind of damage I’ll get overcharged for when I return the car. Allison gets out first, her eyes locked on the house. It might be better, it might be worse than I expected. I’m not too sure yet. While we were watching the news and following the storm, things went from bad to worse back to bad and then the whole thing was over. The videos and pictures of the flooding were the hardest to see. Of course Allison assumed the worst, and honestly, so did I. All we could do, though, was wait for someone, anyone to tell us about the state of our home. They just weren’t letting much of anyone in or out, even residents.
Now we’re finally here.
Now I’m staring at my pretty pink house, still undecided if it’s good or bad. Allison’s landscaping is destroyed. The lime tree branch fell over, taking the fence down with it. The water level from the flooding is clearly visible on the white fence thanks to a brown stain. It was over my ankles and I’m a tall person.
They told us the house flooded and everything on floor level was most likely ruined. Our saving grace is that there’s a small, mostly inaccessible crawl space under our house, keeping the water from getting inside the actual house. It’s just a matter of whether it came in contact with our floorboards and how much of a risk we run of growing mold. The biggest issue is the roof, though. Most of the shingles have gone missing and there’s an obvious hole in the roof that someone was kind enough to put a blue tarp over to prevent anymore damage.
Allison turns to me. “It - it isn’t so bad,” she says, her voice breaking. She quickly falls forward, right into my arms, and starts to sob. All I can do is hold her tightly, brush her hair gently, and let her cry. If she’s crying out of sadness or happiness or some combination of the two, I don’t know. I just have to stand here and be strong, the logical one, the restrained one.
She doesn’t know that I feel just as heartbroken, if not more so. I loved coming down here, watching her fiddle with and fuss over the garden and landscaping, sit on the little porch out front in rocking chairs like old ladies on rainy days, walk to the each to see the sunset, go down to Sloppy Joes for dinner, or just spend a lazy weekday afternoon watching Allison write for hours in the little writing cubby she made in the living room.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I coo softly. “We can get everything fixed. We have insurance and it’s still here. We’re going to be okay.”
“It’s not, not…” she mutters and trails off. She slinks out of my arms and starts walking the property. More tears as she kicks the broken hibiscus plant.
“We can clean up, it’s not big deal,” I say. “Replace whatever is broken or gone.”
Her little jaunt around the yard just brings more kicking and crying. Then I remember. I hurry around to the side of the house, to the little storage shed with the metal roof to find it still standing and sturdy. Upon opening the door, I find everything still as good as the day we left it. The garden tools, the bags of soil, the lawn mower that barely fits. But most importantly, I find the decorations that once made our lawn pretty and campy, like the rest of Key West. I find exactly what I’m looking for.
Not seconds later, I’m shoving the plastic hot pink flamingo into the dirt. “Mr. Flamingo is ready for guard duty, ma’am,” I announce.
“What?” Allison says, turning around. She spots the flamingo and a smile comes over her face. “What are you doing?”
“Mr. Flamingo!” someone shouts from across the street. The old bear, William, leans up against the railing of his porch. He was one of the first people to welcome us to the neighborhood. The gays stick together and spot one from a million miles away. He waves.
Allison waves back.
“Was wondering when I might see him again, and you two,” he shouts.
“Hello, William,” I shout.
“Come over,” he says, waving us toward his house. His house isn’t so bad, but he’s had time to clean up and make repairs. We cross the street unopposed and step onto this porch, narrowly avoiding getting slapped in the head by his proudly hung rainbow flag. He hugs us, one by one. I don’t mind hugs. Not from big, hairy, middle-aged bears anyway. God, do those men know how to hug and make you feel like you’ve been enveloped by some kind of warm, soft, and yes, fuzzy heaven. “I’ve just pulled out a bundt. I’ll put on some coffee. We’ll catch up.”
“That’d be nice,” Allison says, trying to clean up her face with her hands.
“In, in,” he says, shooing us forward into his much bigger and much nicer house.
I’m sure the stories will revolve around the storm and how we waited it out. It’ll do us good to hear about it, I suppose. William is probably the one who put the tarp over the roof so it’d be rude to reject his kindness. Besides, I could use a cup of coffee right now.
...To Be Continued…
The Bookerman is having some fun, ain’t she? Having fun leaving me out of the main event - honestly, I'm okay with this considering now the show gets twice the punch for one low, low price! Fun for the fans. Fun for me because I get to wrestle and that's always fun for me no matter what. Then she goes and puts Tolson up against the L.A.W. Champion.
Hm.
Sam Tolson is not having very much fun. Not lately, anyway. The woman has been taking a rash of beatings and big losses. The biggest, and probably most important, being her precious Chaos Title. The one she lost not what, less than a few weeks ago. I don’t mean to reopen wounds or throw salt in a fresh wound - I’ve been in her shoes, taking one tough loss after another - but things aren’t going to get any better in her next match, either.
It’s sad that she has to face me of all people. Another loss for her. It’s one after another after another. Poor timing for the bookerman to give Tolson a one-on-one with the Champion. This is not going to be good for her motivation or morale, at all, not if she takes it the wrong way. I feel bad for my friend, but business is business and we’ve been through this how many times before now? Sam and I have faced in the past, in those Champion’s Challenges, but never in a singles bout.
This time, Sam has no one to fall back on, no one to help wear me down, no one to come in save her from being pinned. Just Tolson and Smyth, two record making champions in L.A.W. Her record making has been stopped, however. Honestly, from what I’ve seen, Tolson has been devastated since her losses. Now, one of two things can happen… I’m all too happy to oblige in both.
Tolson can climb into the ring with me, give me all she’s got, and beat the holy hell out of me. Let out all the rage on someone who can take it, and of course, dish it back out again, wake up the next day feeling refreshed and renewed, a little bit lighter. Or she can just show me how little life she has left in her, how her loss has taken a toll on her. She can choose to lie down and die, accept things as they are, and just give it up. Or, if she wants to take a cue from me, she can get up and use this opportunity to her advantage.
She has much to gain from this.
I have a lot to lose.
But mostly, it's on her.
Goddamn, the morale boost from defeating the L.A.W. Champion. Defeating the woman who is on a long record breaking streak, the woman who hasn’t taken a pinfall in, what… Jesus Christ, I don’t know, I’ve lost track. Most people probably weren’t keep track to start with. That would lift her up to new heights, wouldn’t it? I mean, it won’t happen, but it’s a nice thought. I think it’s actually a thought you should put in the back of your mind, Sam. Use to keep you going if you need a little spank on the ass to get up and get going. I want you to get up and get going. I want to face the Sam Tolson everyone feared not that long ago. The one that made her name and living on kicking ass, making people bleed, and doing things that most of us wouldn’t dream while surviving much worse. Where did the Tolson and her cage of toys go? Where did that fire go?
Titles are fun and all - I have three after all. For some, it makes them better, for others it drags them down. It’s almost as if Sam Tolson got weighed down by all that gold and forgot who she was, what she was good at, what she was capable of. She rested on the titles and stopped putting effort forth. She became a little arrogant and a little big for her britches, assuming that because she was champion, she had nothing to worry about. I saw it and I think a lot of other people saw it, too. In a flash, she became the very thing she hates most.
There is more to Sam Tolson, this much I know.
Now she has to get back up, rise up, and get back into form. In fact, she can do better. She can get up and be better than she was when she fell. That’s what I did. I’m not saying you should be me or do what I did, but shit, at least get up and be better than you were. Let our match together be the boost you need to come back, bigger, better, and badder.
After all, I do not have friends who lie down and die so easily.
I am not saying our friendship is on the line here, Tolson. I’m saying this as a friend. I’m going to give you a good, old fashioned beating as a friend so that maybe it’ll get you going again. It’s sad that you can’t win this, but damn, I want, I need you give it your best. Can you do that? You need to do. Whether you fucking like it or not.
I'm gonna drag that shit outta ya.
In that ring, I'm going to be your best friend and worst enemy. When I knock you down, I will encourage you to get up so that you can well, eat a little more punishment, and yes, dish out your own punishment on me. This better not be a fucking one sided thing. But, you stayed in my home and I think I know you better than that. Maybe I don't know everything about you and I will never attest to know you completely, but I know you're a fucking fighter and you expect more from yourself than damn near everyone else.
We aren't so different when it comes right down to it. Except for one thing. I'm winning this match and you're not. I intend to give the fans more than what they paid for. A double main event. Duel bill. That's something that those will have to deal with, not me. Maybe we'll outshine them, maybe we won't. I know I'm gonna do my damnedest to put on a great match. It's all a matter of whether Tolson cooperates or not.
Let me help you get back to the Sam Tolson you once we're.
I'll see ya there, Sam.