Post by anthony on Mar 27, 2024 22:22:46 GMT -5
“It wouldn’t be much of a rivalry if the win column was lopsided in my direction, now would it?”
Nearly 2 weeks ago in Hawaii.
Looks like Tony would have to try to finish the series out at Game 6. Not quite enough in the end, all there was to it. Losses upset Tony, as they should for anybody working a competitive sport. It’s just how aggravating it should be depends on the situation.
In sports terms, losing to Larry’s like losing to another playoff contender; sucks but it isn’t exactly the worst thing. Only thing was, it delays Tony’s belt push back. With a ticking clock on his career, that was a wrong turn that ate into his mileage.
Then again, minor hiccups compared to the big picture. Tony’s life was going great. He’d won 4 belts in 4 companies, the boxing match at Madison Square Garden in May looked to be a hit, he was racking up crazy endorsement money…
There were no storm clouds ahead. No loose ends he could think of to come back to haunt him. Pantheon was on automatic with its roll. Life…life was good. Real good. Like boring as hell good, you’re just WAITING for something dramatic to land on your doorstep to shake up the monotony.
“Ooh…Tony…honey look at this!”
Figured his wife wasn’t paying attention. She was having such a good time in Hawaii she flat out forgot he was there to wrestle. Having a spouse who really doesn’t care about your job can be frustrating. He could show up home with a light tube jammed into his eye socket, and she’d be more upset if you didn’t see the text to pick up cookie dough!
“I was in the middle of my reflective moment…”
“Oi, piss off with that. Another win streak snapped. You’ll get another one, you bellend. Now come see the deal I discovered online.”
She was like a little girl showing dad a puppy she wanted at the pet shop, bouncing in her seat pointing at her laptop. My wife’s been getting her ducks in a row for this fashion line rollout, and one of her to-do list items was to find better deals on fabric.
Husband’s a multi-sport champ…pfft. Good for you, slick. 5.5% off bulk silk rolls, and she’s ordering champagne and making an announcement on LinkedIn like she got a promotion.
“What’s with the slutty cheap valentines candy box red color?”
“It’s not the only color it comes in, buzzkiller.”
“But why that color? That’s the color that skimpy adult Halloween costumes rock.”
“I find a great wholesale deal saving OUR clothing company tens of thousands, and you’re getting hung up on a romance novel shade of red?”
“Cardboard box yard sale romance novel. Not even supermarket one.”
“First you literally fart on me this morning in bed…”
“And I got my customary thrown shoe to my head followed by whole paragraphs of verbiage I can’t repeat on this program.”
“Now you fart on my find. And people wonder why I’ve publicly stated I have contemplated having you unalived like Cashe says for profit.”
“Seriously, that’s a good find, as long as everything’s kosher on their end. Maybe look into cashmere too…”
“You read my mind.” Honey answers back with a kiss. The rest of the night is fabric and zipper shopping around a beach fire and laptop, then I drop the kids and wife off at the jet and get ready to board another plane. Routine. Monotony. The same thing week after week.
I’ve turned into a suburban dad who beats on people for extra dough and a possible antiperspirant spray endorsement. Nothing bad about it, it’s peaceful to have a routine and stable life.
This run though was going on way longer than he thought. This calm streak had to break with a storm.
Fast forward today, in Seattle.
“Gotta hand it to Tact, I can pick a rival. We’ll run this back again, there’s no doubt. Hopefully in a much higher place in the card. They got a main event to heat up the cold open. Bargain price.”
“With a guy like me, with my history, when I take a loss it emboldens some to mistake it as an opening. A loose string to pull, a gap in the barbed wire fence.”
“Tony took a hit; he’s wide open. Let's get it!”
He flares some canine tooth thinking about that.
“There’s a reason I have WAY more win streaks than losing ones! One thing you do at my level is you do everything to remind them immediately you are that guy. Nobody’s plucking loose change off of you. Nobody’s getting back to back meals.”
“And I’m certainly not letting Yosemite Sam root and toot his It Came From Jim Crockett Wrasslin’ butt get his career jump started again with my electricity!”
“I dunno about you; losing a fight to a guy that’s probably scraped roadkill off the interstate for groceries double digit times in their life is NOT something you’d want to explain at a party.”
“Oh, aren't you the bloke that lost to a man that may have stolen propane from his neighbors at the mobile home park? Blimey, couldn’t be me..oh they have spinach dip. Pardon me.” as they dip past you feeling like a tool while they camp around the appetizer table.”
Tony’s worked up, rubbing his face chuckling.
“It’s important to get back on track, reestablish dominance. That means the next person booked against me gets their mandatory day of the week. Because the match after a loss means I treat the next opponent like they’ve got the World belt and it’s up for grabs.”
“Bubba Back Bacon is NOT world champion material, and the only thing he can put up for grabs these days is a 12 piece bucket with a biscuit.”
“NOT on my level. Not in resume, stature, conditioning…he might smoke me in a pickled pigs feet eating contest, but in a wrestling match odds are the nights ends with him slapping mat and binge eating at Cracker Barrel out of depression. Pretty much thought by everyone; fans, critics, Aaron’s relatives in secret…”
“Not me, though. No. No, he gets promoted. He has to. Walking into a follow up match expecting to cook squash is like thinking you’re getting a win in your hometown. Just ASKING for a wrestling cliche to happen.”
“I’m treating him like an All Star because it’ll keep me grounded. All the mistakes I made last time, less likely to happen again. All those openings I didn't exploit, I’ll be on all of those.”
“All that frustration from a tough loss getting taken out on a guy with the misfortune of dealing with me after a bad day.”
“You aren’t on my level, Aaron. You won’t know it, though. Not by the barrage coming at you. Getting hit so hard your bone marrow shakes. Working to the point your legs are rubber and your lungs are jello, and I’m still running with plenty of gas in the tank.”
“You’ll feel like a champ. Because you’re getting worked like one. Beaten on like one. Twisted up like one. Ground down like one. You’ll feel like one of the BEST WRESTLERS on Earth once the opening bell rings. It may feel like a lot of blunt force trauma, a sense of being in over your head and joint hyperextension, but that’s just a small side effect of feeling like an equal.”
“Closing bell, not so much little piggy. More like feeling like a Jimmy Dean patty in the frying pan. hey, at least I went out of my way to fight you like somebody who…”
Tony saw somebody waving at him down the service hall of the arena, somebody he hadn’t seen in several years. It threw him off seeing the old man so far away from home.
“…Anyways, enjoy feeling top shelf for a few moments. It’ll hurt but…”
“Compared to the losing part, it’ll feel like a massage…yeah, excuse me…”
Not the strongest of finishes, but it was obvious to Gary something had Tony distracted. Threw his momentum off. The way he ran down the hall in an almost panicked state towards the silver haired man in a tweed suit….
Gary put the camera away and followed Tony out to the parking lot. It took a few minutes, but Tony was out in the drizzle having a conversation. Tony’s constant grimacing and cursing under his breath meant this talk was getting unpleasant. Gary carefully snuck his way closer.
“How come nobody told me about this? I mean, I’m his grandson. Nobody from that side of the family was going to say anything?”
“Trust me Anthony, I was the man’s attorney for longer than you’ve been alive, and I just found out yesterday. Your uncle Jody and his clan…trying to pry information about Eli’s state is almost a subpoena level chore. They won’t even let me talk to the old man.”
“What about my dad?”
“He was the first I told. Knowing Nate, he’s probably in Louisville already trying to break Jody’s door down.”
“…*sighs* did they at LEAST get him to a good facility?” Tony was practically begging for good news.
“I’m in the dark too, son. I’ll let you know more when I find out.”
Panic was washing over Tony. He didn’t know if his grandpa was well or not, where he was. He understood there was a rift between the Savage clan, but to not even inform the family something was wrong…
“Tony, everything good?”
Savage got pulled from inside his own head and saw Gary panting from his jog.
“They put my grandpa in hospice. He…he ain’t got…”
Ticking clocks. Tony was getting sick of them.
“I’m sorry, man.”
Tony kicked a rock from his shoe.
“Figures. Here comes that moment I was dreading.”
“What moment?”
“Where the ride starts getting bumpy again. Thing had been going a bit too smooth.”
Nearly 2 weeks ago in Hawaii.
Looks like Tony would have to try to finish the series out at Game 6. Not quite enough in the end, all there was to it. Losses upset Tony, as they should for anybody working a competitive sport. It’s just how aggravating it should be depends on the situation.
In sports terms, losing to Larry’s like losing to another playoff contender; sucks but it isn’t exactly the worst thing. Only thing was, it delays Tony’s belt push back. With a ticking clock on his career, that was a wrong turn that ate into his mileage.
Then again, minor hiccups compared to the big picture. Tony’s life was going great. He’d won 4 belts in 4 companies, the boxing match at Madison Square Garden in May looked to be a hit, he was racking up crazy endorsement money…
There were no storm clouds ahead. No loose ends he could think of to come back to haunt him. Pantheon was on automatic with its roll. Life…life was good. Real good. Like boring as hell good, you’re just WAITING for something dramatic to land on your doorstep to shake up the monotony.
“Ooh…Tony…honey look at this!”
Figured his wife wasn’t paying attention. She was having such a good time in Hawaii she flat out forgot he was there to wrestle. Having a spouse who really doesn’t care about your job can be frustrating. He could show up home with a light tube jammed into his eye socket, and she’d be more upset if you didn’t see the text to pick up cookie dough!
“I was in the middle of my reflective moment…”
“Oi, piss off with that. Another win streak snapped. You’ll get another one, you bellend. Now come see the deal I discovered online.”
She was like a little girl showing dad a puppy she wanted at the pet shop, bouncing in her seat pointing at her laptop. My wife’s been getting her ducks in a row for this fashion line rollout, and one of her to-do list items was to find better deals on fabric.
Husband’s a multi-sport champ…pfft. Good for you, slick. 5.5% off bulk silk rolls, and she’s ordering champagne and making an announcement on LinkedIn like she got a promotion.
“What’s with the slutty cheap valentines candy box red color?”
“It’s not the only color it comes in, buzzkiller.”
“But why that color? That’s the color that skimpy adult Halloween costumes rock.”
“I find a great wholesale deal saving OUR clothing company tens of thousands, and you’re getting hung up on a romance novel shade of red?”
“Cardboard box yard sale romance novel. Not even supermarket one.”
“First you literally fart on me this morning in bed…”
“And I got my customary thrown shoe to my head followed by whole paragraphs of verbiage I can’t repeat on this program.”
“Now you fart on my find. And people wonder why I’ve publicly stated I have contemplated having you unalived like Cashe says for profit.”
“Seriously, that’s a good find, as long as everything’s kosher on their end. Maybe look into cashmere too…”
“You read my mind.” Honey answers back with a kiss. The rest of the night is fabric and zipper shopping around a beach fire and laptop, then I drop the kids and wife off at the jet and get ready to board another plane. Routine. Monotony. The same thing week after week.
I’ve turned into a suburban dad who beats on people for extra dough and a possible antiperspirant spray endorsement. Nothing bad about it, it’s peaceful to have a routine and stable life.
This run though was going on way longer than he thought. This calm streak had to break with a storm.
Fast forward today, in Seattle.
“Gotta hand it to Tact, I can pick a rival. We’ll run this back again, there’s no doubt. Hopefully in a much higher place in the card. They got a main event to heat up the cold open. Bargain price.”
“With a guy like me, with my history, when I take a loss it emboldens some to mistake it as an opening. A loose string to pull, a gap in the barbed wire fence.”
“Tony took a hit; he’s wide open. Let's get it!”
He flares some canine tooth thinking about that.
“There’s a reason I have WAY more win streaks than losing ones! One thing you do at my level is you do everything to remind them immediately you are that guy. Nobody’s plucking loose change off of you. Nobody’s getting back to back meals.”
“And I’m certainly not letting Yosemite Sam root and toot his It Came From Jim Crockett Wrasslin’ butt get his career jump started again with my electricity!”
“I dunno about you; losing a fight to a guy that’s probably scraped roadkill off the interstate for groceries double digit times in their life is NOT something you’d want to explain at a party.”
“Oh, aren't you the bloke that lost to a man that may have stolen propane from his neighbors at the mobile home park? Blimey, couldn’t be me..oh they have spinach dip. Pardon me.” as they dip past you feeling like a tool while they camp around the appetizer table.”
Tony’s worked up, rubbing his face chuckling.
“It’s important to get back on track, reestablish dominance. That means the next person booked against me gets their mandatory day of the week. Because the match after a loss means I treat the next opponent like they’ve got the World belt and it’s up for grabs.”
“Bubba Back Bacon is NOT world champion material, and the only thing he can put up for grabs these days is a 12 piece bucket with a biscuit.”
“NOT on my level. Not in resume, stature, conditioning…he might smoke me in a pickled pigs feet eating contest, but in a wrestling match odds are the nights ends with him slapping mat and binge eating at Cracker Barrel out of depression. Pretty much thought by everyone; fans, critics, Aaron’s relatives in secret…”
“Not me, though. No. No, he gets promoted. He has to. Walking into a follow up match expecting to cook squash is like thinking you’re getting a win in your hometown. Just ASKING for a wrestling cliche to happen.”
“I’m treating him like an All Star because it’ll keep me grounded. All the mistakes I made last time, less likely to happen again. All those openings I didn't exploit, I’ll be on all of those.”
“All that frustration from a tough loss getting taken out on a guy with the misfortune of dealing with me after a bad day.”
“You aren’t on my level, Aaron. You won’t know it, though. Not by the barrage coming at you. Getting hit so hard your bone marrow shakes. Working to the point your legs are rubber and your lungs are jello, and I’m still running with plenty of gas in the tank.”
“You’ll feel like a champ. Because you’re getting worked like one. Beaten on like one. Twisted up like one. Ground down like one. You’ll feel like one of the BEST WRESTLERS on Earth once the opening bell rings. It may feel like a lot of blunt force trauma, a sense of being in over your head and joint hyperextension, but that’s just a small side effect of feeling like an equal.”
“Closing bell, not so much little piggy. More like feeling like a Jimmy Dean patty in the frying pan. hey, at least I went out of my way to fight you like somebody who…”
Tony saw somebody waving at him down the service hall of the arena, somebody he hadn’t seen in several years. It threw him off seeing the old man so far away from home.
“…Anyways, enjoy feeling top shelf for a few moments. It’ll hurt but…”
“Compared to the losing part, it’ll feel like a massage…yeah, excuse me…”
Not the strongest of finishes, but it was obvious to Gary something had Tony distracted. Threw his momentum off. The way he ran down the hall in an almost panicked state towards the silver haired man in a tweed suit….
Gary put the camera away and followed Tony out to the parking lot. It took a few minutes, but Tony was out in the drizzle having a conversation. Tony’s constant grimacing and cursing under his breath meant this talk was getting unpleasant. Gary carefully snuck his way closer.
“How come nobody told me about this? I mean, I’m his grandson. Nobody from that side of the family was going to say anything?”
“Trust me Anthony, I was the man’s attorney for longer than you’ve been alive, and I just found out yesterday. Your uncle Jody and his clan…trying to pry information about Eli’s state is almost a subpoena level chore. They won’t even let me talk to the old man.”
“What about my dad?”
“He was the first I told. Knowing Nate, he’s probably in Louisville already trying to break Jody’s door down.”
“…*sighs* did they at LEAST get him to a good facility?” Tony was practically begging for good news.
“I’m in the dark too, son. I’ll let you know more when I find out.”
Panic was washing over Tony. He didn’t know if his grandpa was well or not, where he was. He understood there was a rift between the Savage clan, but to not even inform the family something was wrong…
“Tony, everything good?”
Savage got pulled from inside his own head and saw Gary panting from his jog.
“They put my grandpa in hospice. He…he ain’t got…”
Ticking clocks. Tony was getting sick of them.
“I’m sorry, man.”
Tony kicked a rock from his shoe.
“Figures. Here comes that moment I was dreading.”
“What moment?”
“Where the ride starts getting bumpy again. Thing had been going a bit too smooth.”
