Post by Deleted on Mar 15, 2013 1:17:24 GMT -6
Time...
People will always complain about time...
It's always: "There isn't enough time in the day" or "Life is too short, don't waste it."
That is what I have been doing; wasting time. Wasting time wondering if I was gonna win a match, or if management was ever going to take me out of the lower card. All this time I have wasted away has made me make foolish decisions. But those decisions have lead me here.
Right here, at this point in time. Where I, Jake Youngblood, write my name into the NEW history books. Where my name will never perish. Where it will say that on March 17th, 2013... Jake Youngblood made a name for himself. It will say that Jake Youngblood entered the NEW arena in Chicago as the underdog, and left the champion.
The funny thing is... nobody right now gives a shit, because they have no idea who I am. Sure you all know that I have a beautiful wife, and a loyal son who I love to death. But you have no idea how I came to have these things. My backstory is a complete mystery to all of you, and that is one of the things that time has not allotted me to tell you. And I am done wasting time. In order for the events that will occur on Match 17th to happen, you must fully understand how it came to be a possibility.
Most of you believe that I was born right here in Chicago, Illinois. That isn't true. I was born in Capetown, South Africa, to James and Shannon Youngblood. My mother was a saint amongst demons. She would help out the family in any way that she could. My father, however... well he reminds me so much of our current TA Champion, Al Envy.
My father has only done two good things in his life. One is helping in creating me, and the other is doing the same thing for my little brother Evan. This is the same Evan that I now treat as a son, because I feel like it's my duty to be the father that James never was. You see James (like Envy) was a pill popping, drug abusing, drunk who would come home and beat his wife and kids until he felt satisfied. He was tall, had a rough beard, and always had a beer in his hand. He didn’t care what it was, as long as it was enough to get him buzzed.
He was a bastard. Simple as that. After beating us, he would have us clean up the house, and force my mom to make him dinner. Of course Evan and I were never allowed to eat the good food. We would settle for bread and a glass of water, and we'd call it a feast. This man wouldn't treat us like family. Rather, he treated us like dogs.
And then, for some reason, it all changed. He changed.
I woke up one day and there he was, making us breakfast in the kitchen while mom was watching one of her favorite channels; something she wasn't allowed to do, because my dad always watched what he wanted to watch. And usually if we didn't like it, there was the door.
It was my 17th birthday. I was never really given anything for it in the past, but my dad shocked everybody that day. He said that he would sign the release forms for me to wrestle at the local promotion CIW, or Capetown Independent Wrestling. It was something I had asked for all year, and I finally got it, on the condition that half of everything I made went to my father to help pay for the rent.
It was an odd couple of years where my dad would just be happy, and actually started treating us like a family. Turns out that he had come into a lot of money after his "business in medicine" started to boom. What he was doing was selling drugs. We all knew it. And worse, the police knew it. They stormed the house one day to find him counting money, which turned out to be in the six figures. They never really told us, but needless to say, Evan and I were placed in foster care. Well, to be specific, Evan was. I was eighteen and was allowed to leave.
I was still wrestling on the side of all of this, holding the tag titles with someone called Jimmy Dallas. We were called the "Capetown Badasses", which was a terrible name, but helped get me into the business. Fast forward a year, and we are about fed up with CIW. They had jobbed us out to the owner's sons for the titles, then again for the rematch. We told him that we were done, and wanted to have a better wrestling career then jobbing out to his fat ass kids. That obviously didn't go over to well with him, and we were escorted out of the promotion.
Fortunately a member of the NEW scouting team was there, saw my potential, and wanted to see more. After a grueling process of showing him some tapes of my singles work, he said that I was green, but had potential. I was signed to NEW under a developmental contract and sent to Chicago to learn the differences between independent and professional wrestling.
After a while, I was starting to make really good money and wanted my brother to have the same life that I was having. So I saved him from that god awful facility in Capetown and brought him home with me to Chicago. I adopted him and made him my own, which was more than his real dad had ever done for him.
While my life at home was stable, I had done nothing but waste my time here. Meanwhile my opponent, Al Envy, has had his best years of his career in NEW! World Champion, TA Champion, Tag Champion, member of the cRu... kinda makes me the underdog once again doesn't it?
Well this is going great so far isn't it? The kid who hasn't attained anything is going up one of the greatest wrestlers that NEW have ever produced. And on top of that, that same undercard kid was just lucky enough to win that number one contenders match back in February. The kid has no chance, right?
No... That is what Envy wants you to think. That is the image that he has painted in his brain. But he is damn wrong. What, just because I haven't lived up to Al Envy’s image of a challenger, I'm not good enough? Does that mean that I am not worth it? FUCK NO! Everybody that has ever held that title that he holds onto... they all had to start somewhere. From rat infested Indy shows to the bright lights and screaming fans of a major promotion!
They started somewhere... Envy started somewhere. And when he started, Al Envy was just like me. Hungry, with a lust for championship gold. For prestige and respect. And he was able achieve everything that he has wanted to. But in the end, he had to start somewhere. And lucky for me, he started where I am starting.
With an opportunity...
It is the breezy Monday morning after Ignite. Looking over to my left, there she lays... my brown haired angel, Ariel, sleeping away as the cool breeze slips through the small crack in the window. I want to stay here with her forever; just lying with her. But I can't, because right now Al Envy is doing one of two things. Right now, he is ether having his morning hangover cured... or he is preparing; preparing for what he thinks is going to be an easy match with some curtain jerker from Capetown. Well, that isn't the first thing he has gotten wrong. And it won't be last.
I see Evan slip his head into the room, looking for signs of movement from us before slumbering his way down the stairs. I look back down at the woman next to me. I met Ariel when I was working under Clint Collins' Xtreme Championship Wrestling. We stuck together through my run in WCE. She loved Evan, and in 2012 we tied the knot. It was a luscious ceremony; everything we always wanted. And soon after, sometime in January, I came back to NEW. Throughout January and February, I beat Frank Finelli, Aiden, Mason and was going to beat Al Envy... that is until he decided I wasn't worthy enough to face him yet.
Slipping out of the bed, keeping the covers on Ariel, I leave the room. My mind is still on my match. No one is giving me a chance in hell; not even a needle in a haystack. And I was fine with that. I have gotten everything that I have on my own, and no drug addict is going to stop me from achieving more than he ever has.
Still thinking, I go through my morning things: showering, slicking my hair back and getting dressed. I then speed down the stairs, before walking out the door. The Chicago breeze hits me, as spring isn't quite here yet. The sun peeks its head over the windy city. It is indeed windy along the path I run. It blows across my face, along with providing resistance to my body as I jog along the path. With each stride, I seethe about my opponent of the week.
Al, in my mind, is just an arrogant prick. A power hungry, egotistical asshole. He is a mega-star, always on the opening intro while his merchandise sells. The man is a success, I am not going to say that he isn't. The "show stealer" has the perfect opportunity to do just that: steal the show. But I'm not going to just let Al walk all over me. This isn't Jobberthon, and he isn't anything like Triple X. In fact, you could even say that he was his lackey.
Now I saw Al's match with Hunter. That was one hell of a match, so there is NO WAY IN HELL that Al is even close to 100 percent, which works into my favor even more. He couldn't even walk away from his match with Hunter, and now he thinks that he can just walk over me? Fuck him! Fuck him and his self-fulfilling ego. Everything he has ever accomplished in his life was to feed that ego, and it is time someone put him down. That someone is me. This Sunday on Ignite, I will take down Al Envy. Because there isn't any one person in the world that has challenged for this title or HELD this title that cares more about it than I do.
Funny thing is in order for someone to rise, something else must fall. This is what happens Al. Remember that job: to fall. That is what will happen to you this Sunday, so enjoy it. The last seven days the you get to be the show stealer, that you get to be the best, that you get to be TA Champion.
Having been fueled by my confident thoughts, my run is now almost finished. Sunday is getting closer with each step, as is the chance to finally making everyone see what I can do. I earned this, I need to remember that. This wasn't given to me. I won this opportunity fairly, and it was not going to be wasted. Al is weak, and I am stronger, faster and younger. I got youth and cardio on my side, so all I have to do is avoid that brainbuster and single leg crab, and I'm golden.
As the run continues, I figure that I will take a detour down the alley, which might be a longer way but it will be a better cardio workout for my match with Al. It is all a matter of strategy for me, both physically and mentally, and it's a simple strategy. Don't let him get in my head. If he does, I'm gonna lose. I think this as I continue running through the alley. There is one thing about this route that my thoughts on Envy have overshadowed. That is, there is a bar that is at the end of the alley.
As usual, there are around three drunks that are hanging on the outside of the alley, all of them hammered. These men are the type that I am trying to rid the world of. People like these drunks, people like Al Envy. Also, these guys are a specific type of drunk; the ones that don't mingle with sober people all that well. So as I pass them, the predicted trouble begins.
"Hey buddy, buy a friend a drink?" says one of the drunks, while the others also hold out their hands. When I ignore them, I guess they don't like that, the biggest one grabs me and shoves me to the ground.
"Wait a minute fellas, look who it is... NEW's very own curtain jerking jobber, Jake Youngblood!" The biggest man, the one who shoved me, says.
His words cause a surge of anger to go through me as another asks. "Wait you mean the one who never can get it done?"
'Shut up...' I think furiously.
"That's the one! Tell us Jake, why must you give us a bad name? Why can't you be billed from somewhere else and let people see that Chicago produces winners, not losers like you?" The oldest man said.
'SHUT UP.' It is all that runs through my mind.
I'm so sick of people doubting me, thinking that I will never amount to anything. It pisses me off to the point that I HAVE to beat Al. Nothing else matters. I don't just want to win the title. I want to prove myself. With Noc gone now, I need to be able to prove I can win on my own. If I win Sunday, some people may call it a fluke, but it won’t matter. I will have won. I will have the honor. The title would be around the waist of a new generation. And these drunk bastards will eat their words.
Their insults are all that I can take, so I do what any other pissed off person would do to a stupid drunk. I stand up, look him dead in the eye, and deck his ass. As he falls on the ground, he buddies look shocked, stepping back. Now standing above the grounded drunk, it is my turn to talk.
"What, you think I can't beat Envy? You wanna crack jokes?!" I snap. "You are no different than Al... that drug abusing, bottle clutching piece of shit! If I can kick your ass with ease, imagine what I can do to your alcohol consuming champion, HUH! Let me tell you something, I am going to beat that son of a bitch. You wanna know why? Because pieces of shit like you need to learn to have respect for someone like me, and feel ashamed of someone like yourself. Pissing EVERYTHING away for another buzz. You people make me sick. Fact is, I would rather live my life as a sober "Curtain Jerker", than a drug abusing, alcohol consuming "Show-Stealer". At least then I'd still have my dignity.
I then throw him back onto the ground. When I do this, his phone falls out of his pocket, and it starts to ring. He picks it up, before looking at me, then at his friends knowingly. And then he pushes the phone in my direction. The number looks so familiar, but I can't put a name to it. Confused I snatch the phone away and answer it.
"Hello?"
"You're gonna go far, kid. I have a feeling things will be going your way soon." The familiar voice says, before a buzz signals the end of the call. All I can think, when looking down at the phone in shock, is: what could she want?
Looking down, I drop the phone before leaving this despicable place to go back home to a well earned life... and to get the stench of alcohol out of my mind...
People will always complain about time...
It's always: "There isn't enough time in the day" or "Life is too short, don't waste it."
That is what I have been doing; wasting time. Wasting time wondering if I was gonna win a match, or if management was ever going to take me out of the lower card. All this time I have wasted away has made me make foolish decisions. But those decisions have lead me here.
Right here, at this point in time. Where I, Jake Youngblood, write my name into the NEW history books. Where my name will never perish. Where it will say that on March 17th, 2013... Jake Youngblood made a name for himself. It will say that Jake Youngblood entered the NEW arena in Chicago as the underdog, and left the champion.
The funny thing is... nobody right now gives a shit, because they have no idea who I am. Sure you all know that I have a beautiful wife, and a loyal son who I love to death. But you have no idea how I came to have these things. My backstory is a complete mystery to all of you, and that is one of the things that time has not allotted me to tell you. And I am done wasting time. In order for the events that will occur on Match 17th to happen, you must fully understand how it came to be a possibility.
Most of you believe that I was born right here in Chicago, Illinois. That isn't true. I was born in Capetown, South Africa, to James and Shannon Youngblood. My mother was a saint amongst demons. She would help out the family in any way that she could. My father, however... well he reminds me so much of our current TA Champion, Al Envy.
My father has only done two good things in his life. One is helping in creating me, and the other is doing the same thing for my little brother Evan. This is the same Evan that I now treat as a son, because I feel like it's my duty to be the father that James never was. You see James (like Envy) was a pill popping, drug abusing, drunk who would come home and beat his wife and kids until he felt satisfied. He was tall, had a rough beard, and always had a beer in his hand. He didn’t care what it was, as long as it was enough to get him buzzed.
He was a bastard. Simple as that. After beating us, he would have us clean up the house, and force my mom to make him dinner. Of course Evan and I were never allowed to eat the good food. We would settle for bread and a glass of water, and we'd call it a feast. This man wouldn't treat us like family. Rather, he treated us like dogs.
And then, for some reason, it all changed. He changed.
I woke up one day and there he was, making us breakfast in the kitchen while mom was watching one of her favorite channels; something she wasn't allowed to do, because my dad always watched what he wanted to watch. And usually if we didn't like it, there was the door.
It was my 17th birthday. I was never really given anything for it in the past, but my dad shocked everybody that day. He said that he would sign the release forms for me to wrestle at the local promotion CIW, or Capetown Independent Wrestling. It was something I had asked for all year, and I finally got it, on the condition that half of everything I made went to my father to help pay for the rent.
It was an odd couple of years where my dad would just be happy, and actually started treating us like a family. Turns out that he had come into a lot of money after his "business in medicine" started to boom. What he was doing was selling drugs. We all knew it. And worse, the police knew it. They stormed the house one day to find him counting money, which turned out to be in the six figures. They never really told us, but needless to say, Evan and I were placed in foster care. Well, to be specific, Evan was. I was eighteen and was allowed to leave.
I was still wrestling on the side of all of this, holding the tag titles with someone called Jimmy Dallas. We were called the "Capetown Badasses", which was a terrible name, but helped get me into the business. Fast forward a year, and we are about fed up with CIW. They had jobbed us out to the owner's sons for the titles, then again for the rematch. We told him that we were done, and wanted to have a better wrestling career then jobbing out to his fat ass kids. That obviously didn't go over to well with him, and we were escorted out of the promotion.
Fortunately a member of the NEW scouting team was there, saw my potential, and wanted to see more. After a grueling process of showing him some tapes of my singles work, he said that I was green, but had potential. I was signed to NEW under a developmental contract and sent to Chicago to learn the differences between independent and professional wrestling.
After a while, I was starting to make really good money and wanted my brother to have the same life that I was having. So I saved him from that god awful facility in Capetown and brought him home with me to Chicago. I adopted him and made him my own, which was more than his real dad had ever done for him.
While my life at home was stable, I had done nothing but waste my time here. Meanwhile my opponent, Al Envy, has had his best years of his career in NEW! World Champion, TA Champion, Tag Champion, member of the cRu... kinda makes me the underdog once again doesn't it?
Well this is going great so far isn't it? The kid who hasn't attained anything is going up one of the greatest wrestlers that NEW have ever produced. And on top of that, that same undercard kid was just lucky enough to win that number one contenders match back in February. The kid has no chance, right?
No... That is what Envy wants you to think. That is the image that he has painted in his brain. But he is damn wrong. What, just because I haven't lived up to Al Envy’s image of a challenger, I'm not good enough? Does that mean that I am not worth it? FUCK NO! Everybody that has ever held that title that he holds onto... they all had to start somewhere. From rat infested Indy shows to the bright lights and screaming fans of a major promotion!
They started somewhere... Envy started somewhere. And when he started, Al Envy was just like me. Hungry, with a lust for championship gold. For prestige and respect. And he was able achieve everything that he has wanted to. But in the end, he had to start somewhere. And lucky for me, he started where I am starting.
With an opportunity...
It is the breezy Monday morning after Ignite. Looking over to my left, there she lays... my brown haired angel, Ariel, sleeping away as the cool breeze slips through the small crack in the window. I want to stay here with her forever; just lying with her. But I can't, because right now Al Envy is doing one of two things. Right now, he is ether having his morning hangover cured... or he is preparing; preparing for what he thinks is going to be an easy match with some curtain jerker from Capetown. Well, that isn't the first thing he has gotten wrong. And it won't be last.
I see Evan slip his head into the room, looking for signs of movement from us before slumbering his way down the stairs. I look back down at the woman next to me. I met Ariel when I was working under Clint Collins' Xtreme Championship Wrestling. We stuck together through my run in WCE. She loved Evan, and in 2012 we tied the knot. It was a luscious ceremony; everything we always wanted. And soon after, sometime in January, I came back to NEW. Throughout January and February, I beat Frank Finelli, Aiden, Mason and was going to beat Al Envy... that is until he decided I wasn't worthy enough to face him yet.
Slipping out of the bed, keeping the covers on Ariel, I leave the room. My mind is still on my match. No one is giving me a chance in hell; not even a needle in a haystack. And I was fine with that. I have gotten everything that I have on my own, and no drug addict is going to stop me from achieving more than he ever has.
Still thinking, I go through my morning things: showering, slicking my hair back and getting dressed. I then speed down the stairs, before walking out the door. The Chicago breeze hits me, as spring isn't quite here yet. The sun peeks its head over the windy city. It is indeed windy along the path I run. It blows across my face, along with providing resistance to my body as I jog along the path. With each stride, I seethe about my opponent of the week.
Al, in my mind, is just an arrogant prick. A power hungry, egotistical asshole. He is a mega-star, always on the opening intro while his merchandise sells. The man is a success, I am not going to say that he isn't. The "show stealer" has the perfect opportunity to do just that: steal the show. But I'm not going to just let Al walk all over me. This isn't Jobberthon, and he isn't anything like Triple X. In fact, you could even say that he was his lackey.
Now I saw Al's match with Hunter. That was one hell of a match, so there is NO WAY IN HELL that Al is even close to 100 percent, which works into my favor even more. He couldn't even walk away from his match with Hunter, and now he thinks that he can just walk over me? Fuck him! Fuck him and his self-fulfilling ego. Everything he has ever accomplished in his life was to feed that ego, and it is time someone put him down. That someone is me. This Sunday on Ignite, I will take down Al Envy. Because there isn't any one person in the world that has challenged for this title or HELD this title that cares more about it than I do.
Funny thing is in order for someone to rise, something else must fall. This is what happens Al. Remember that job: to fall. That is what will happen to you this Sunday, so enjoy it. The last seven days the you get to be the show stealer, that you get to be the best, that you get to be TA Champion.
Having been fueled by my confident thoughts, my run is now almost finished. Sunday is getting closer with each step, as is the chance to finally making everyone see what I can do. I earned this, I need to remember that. This wasn't given to me. I won this opportunity fairly, and it was not going to be wasted. Al is weak, and I am stronger, faster and younger. I got youth and cardio on my side, so all I have to do is avoid that brainbuster and single leg crab, and I'm golden.
As the run continues, I figure that I will take a detour down the alley, which might be a longer way but it will be a better cardio workout for my match with Al. It is all a matter of strategy for me, both physically and mentally, and it's a simple strategy. Don't let him get in my head. If he does, I'm gonna lose. I think this as I continue running through the alley. There is one thing about this route that my thoughts on Envy have overshadowed. That is, there is a bar that is at the end of the alley.
As usual, there are around three drunks that are hanging on the outside of the alley, all of them hammered. These men are the type that I am trying to rid the world of. People like these drunks, people like Al Envy. Also, these guys are a specific type of drunk; the ones that don't mingle with sober people all that well. So as I pass them, the predicted trouble begins.
"Hey buddy, buy a friend a drink?" says one of the drunks, while the others also hold out their hands. When I ignore them, I guess they don't like that, the biggest one grabs me and shoves me to the ground.
"Wait a minute fellas, look who it is... NEW's very own curtain jerking jobber, Jake Youngblood!" The biggest man, the one who shoved me, says.
His words cause a surge of anger to go through me as another asks. "Wait you mean the one who never can get it done?"
'Shut up...' I think furiously.
"That's the one! Tell us Jake, why must you give us a bad name? Why can't you be billed from somewhere else and let people see that Chicago produces winners, not losers like you?" The oldest man said.
'SHUT UP.' It is all that runs through my mind.
I'm so sick of people doubting me, thinking that I will never amount to anything. It pisses me off to the point that I HAVE to beat Al. Nothing else matters. I don't just want to win the title. I want to prove myself. With Noc gone now, I need to be able to prove I can win on my own. If I win Sunday, some people may call it a fluke, but it won’t matter. I will have won. I will have the honor. The title would be around the waist of a new generation. And these drunk bastards will eat their words.
Their insults are all that I can take, so I do what any other pissed off person would do to a stupid drunk. I stand up, look him dead in the eye, and deck his ass. As he falls on the ground, he buddies look shocked, stepping back. Now standing above the grounded drunk, it is my turn to talk.
"What, you think I can't beat Envy? You wanna crack jokes?!" I snap. "You are no different than Al... that drug abusing, bottle clutching piece of shit! If I can kick your ass with ease, imagine what I can do to your alcohol consuming champion, HUH! Let me tell you something, I am going to beat that son of a bitch. You wanna know why? Because pieces of shit like you need to learn to have respect for someone like me, and feel ashamed of someone like yourself. Pissing EVERYTHING away for another buzz. You people make me sick. Fact is, I would rather live my life as a sober "Curtain Jerker", than a drug abusing, alcohol consuming "Show-Stealer". At least then I'd still have my dignity.
I then throw him back onto the ground. When I do this, his phone falls out of his pocket, and it starts to ring. He picks it up, before looking at me, then at his friends knowingly. And then he pushes the phone in my direction. The number looks so familiar, but I can't put a name to it. Confused I snatch the phone away and answer it.
"Hello?"
"You're gonna go far, kid. I have a feeling things will be going your way soon." The familiar voice says, before a buzz signals the end of the call. All I can think, when looking down at the phone in shock, is: what could she want?
Looking down, I drop the phone before leaving this despicable place to go back home to a well earned life... and to get the stench of alcohol out of my mind...