Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Mar 24, 2019 4:55:23 GMT
I have been unbreakable.
I have been unbreakable for years. That's the name that I've worn, that's the banner I've flown. But I had to realize something very important before I could start calling myself that with any sort of honesty in my heart. You have to realize that you CAN break. I have broken before. I have broken time and time again. I have broken myself upon my own hopes, my own expectations, the mockery of others, my own illness and need, time and again, and again, and it has left cracks in me, cracks that will not break again...but cracks that hurt every time they're struck. My legacy is built on a spiderweb of cracks, each of them a painful memory that's shaped the man I have become.
I'm a Hall of Famer. I have achieved, in my career, things that many go their entire lives only dreaming of. If I was only concerned with padding my resume, I could retire tomorrow and be content to be a measuring stick for the rest of this company's existence. But it's not just about winning titles. It's not just about the paychecks, and the headlines, and the accolades, no matter how many people swear you can boil this down to it. It's about remembering. It's about remembering how you got here...and cutting a trail as you go so nobody else has to suffer the same way.
Because I remember the long roads. I remember carrying bags, being spit on, being laughed at, turned into a punchline by the "cool kids" because I didn't do things the way they wanted me to. I remember the hell that was, I remember wanting to quit, I remember long nights staring myself in a hotel mirror, telling myself it wasn't worth it. I remember being so ready to give up on the dream I'd had since I was a small child, all because there were sneering, preening jackasses whose idea of humor makes Dane Cook look like a complete intellectual. But I didn't. Because I promised myself there was something better. And if there wasn't? I'd make something better.
I take time to go to the Performance Center, down in Chicago. I train with the rookies we have down there, and I volunteer my time with a smile on my face, because knowing that there will be an IWF after my time, knowing that I'm working to leave this a better place than I found it? That's incredible. That's worthy of everything. That's the sort of thing you can hang your hat on. So yeah, I'm not just fighting for myself here and what the Roulette can do for Andrew Jacobsen.
I'm fighting for THEM.
I'm fighting to make sure that the chances that people like Adel Trevent, Billie Parris, and Phillip Deforrest aren't one and done. I'm fighting to make sure that they have the chance to experience those triumphs, those highs and lows, the magic and heartbreak and wonder that traveling this world brings. I'm fighting to make sure that nobody ever has to have their dream crushed again by an arrogant veteran who got bored and decided that he was going to throw his weight around. I'm going to make this place a place of competition again. Not between cataclysmic forces of good and evil, but...people. And I don't care if the box has been kicked open and the forces of darkness have surged forth, I am willing to put myself on the line to stuff it back in and seal that bastard shut.
So unless you're fighting for IWF? Get out of my way. Unless you're fighting for a better future? Get out of my way. Unless you're fighting for this place to finally be free from the claws around its throat that have plagued it since that dark day in Japan, almost two years ago? Get. Out. Of. My. Way. I've been fighting a war ever since I came back to this company. The faces change: the House of Howlett, the Age of Gods, the Council, the Pack...every time one threat gets taken down, another one emerges, and there's going to come a time when I just can't take it anymore. That day is not today. I want to win this match. I want to be the one to stand tall at the end of the night, because I can trust myself to get the job done. Because this? This is a job that needs doing and needs doing PROPERLY.
The person who wins the Roulette is going to go to Night of the Immortals. The person who wins the Roulette has a God-given obligation to beat the ever-loving hell out of Xavier Cross, and take that World Championship away from that gutless, egocentric coward. That's why I want it to be me. Because Cross? Devlin Raine was my friend. Bob Pooler was my friend. And I'm not going to just sit here and watch as you brutalize anyone who tries to take your blood-soaked throne away from you. I thought you'd changed. I thought you were a better man than this. Apparently, all it ever comes down to is what Xavier Cross thinks. All it ever comes down to is what makes Xavier Cross happiest in life. Fine then. You want to ruin our home for your happiness?
I will take your happiness to save our home.
Andrew runs his hands through his hair as he checks his phone, sighing. "Dammit."
"What?" Danielle looks up from her coffee, confused. "Something wrong?"
"I mean, it's dirtsheets, so take it with a grain of salt, but..." Andrew shrugs. "Pax's mom. Saying she probably died not too long ago." He shakes his head. "Losing his mom so young...like, he gave up the Olympics to try to help her, and now...Jesus."
"Yeah." Danielle nods, walking over and taking Andrew's hand. "Makes sense. Don't know if you should reach out to him?"
"He's a private guy." Andrew shakes his head. "Wouldn't be my place to just reach out based on dirt sheet writing. He'll open up to people in time, and something tells me that he doesn't exactly see me as a resource."
"Why not?" Danielle tilts her head. "You're a veteran, a Hall of Famer, you're both former amateur wrestlers, you're both Minnesotans, there's plenty of common ground."
"Yeah, but every time we've matched up he's had words for me and my failings." Andrew shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe I'll reach out later, couple it with congratulations for the title win. That way it's at least got a positive side to things?"
"Makes sense." Danielle smiles up at Andrew, pausing. "So...you've got the 'I think we need to talk' look on your face. What's up?"
Andrew sighs, looking to the side for a moment, before looking back at Danielle. "Am I letting you down?"
Danielle blinks. "How do you mean?"
"I just..." Andrew looks to the side. "We haven't...y'know..."
"Screwed?" Danielle deadpans, and Andrew winces. She smiles, squeezing his hand. "No. You're not letting me down. You're not disappointing me. You don't want to have sex. I get that."
"But that's not how it's supposed to work, right?" Andrew looks down at his wife, clearly uncomfortable with the entire conversation but forging ahead nonetheless. "I'm supposed to want to. You're beautiful. I know that. I can see that. We're married. I just..."
Danielle leans in and plants a gentle kiss on Andrew's lips, smiling softly again. "I don't take it as an insult. Andrew, I remember you telling me those stories about that girl in Japan. You said you couldn't then. Some people just...don't have a sex drive. Doesn't make them any less of a person, doesn't make them any less whole. I knew you were asexual when I married you. That doesn't mean I love you any less, or that you're letting me down in any way." She pauses, grinning. "Just means my battery budget's higher than normal."
Andrew lets out a groan, and Danielle gives a little fist-pump of triumph, grinning ear to ear. Andrew sighs, nodding, and hugs her briefly before taking a step back. "Okay. Thank you. I just...Vivienne linked me a thing the other night, and I didn't know how to have the conversation with you about it. I guess you've been expecting this for a while?"
Danielle smirks. "Andrew, you asked if I was upset because you went out and got a new bath set without asking me. If you think you're not measuring up, you have no problem vocalizing it. So yeah, I've been expecting this for a little bit. Glad we had the conversation, though. Get that weight off your chest."
"Yeah." Andrew nods, smiling. "Thanks. For...y'know. Being so understanding."
"One of the many services I offer." Danielle grins, scooping back up her coffee as she walks towards the bedroom. "Now come on and get ready. You promised me a movie, and I intend to collect."
Andrew rolls his eyes, smiling. "Yes ma'am."
I have been unbreakable for years. That's the name that I've worn, that's the banner I've flown. But I had to realize something very important before I could start calling myself that with any sort of honesty in my heart. You have to realize that you CAN break. I have broken before. I have broken time and time again. I have broken myself upon my own hopes, my own expectations, the mockery of others, my own illness and need, time and again, and again, and it has left cracks in me, cracks that will not break again...but cracks that hurt every time they're struck. My legacy is built on a spiderweb of cracks, each of them a painful memory that's shaped the man I have become.
I'm a Hall of Famer. I have achieved, in my career, things that many go their entire lives only dreaming of. If I was only concerned with padding my resume, I could retire tomorrow and be content to be a measuring stick for the rest of this company's existence. But it's not just about winning titles. It's not just about the paychecks, and the headlines, and the accolades, no matter how many people swear you can boil this down to it. It's about remembering. It's about remembering how you got here...and cutting a trail as you go so nobody else has to suffer the same way.
Because I remember the long roads. I remember carrying bags, being spit on, being laughed at, turned into a punchline by the "cool kids" because I didn't do things the way they wanted me to. I remember the hell that was, I remember wanting to quit, I remember long nights staring myself in a hotel mirror, telling myself it wasn't worth it. I remember being so ready to give up on the dream I'd had since I was a small child, all because there were sneering, preening jackasses whose idea of humor makes Dane Cook look like a complete intellectual. But I didn't. Because I promised myself there was something better. And if there wasn't? I'd make something better.
I take time to go to the Performance Center, down in Chicago. I train with the rookies we have down there, and I volunteer my time with a smile on my face, because knowing that there will be an IWF after my time, knowing that I'm working to leave this a better place than I found it? That's incredible. That's worthy of everything. That's the sort of thing you can hang your hat on. So yeah, I'm not just fighting for myself here and what the Roulette can do for Andrew Jacobsen.
I'm fighting for THEM.
I'm fighting to make sure that the chances that people like Adel Trevent, Billie Parris, and Phillip Deforrest aren't one and done. I'm fighting to make sure that they have the chance to experience those triumphs, those highs and lows, the magic and heartbreak and wonder that traveling this world brings. I'm fighting to make sure that nobody ever has to have their dream crushed again by an arrogant veteran who got bored and decided that he was going to throw his weight around. I'm going to make this place a place of competition again. Not between cataclysmic forces of good and evil, but...people. And I don't care if the box has been kicked open and the forces of darkness have surged forth, I am willing to put myself on the line to stuff it back in and seal that bastard shut.
So unless you're fighting for IWF? Get out of my way. Unless you're fighting for a better future? Get out of my way. Unless you're fighting for this place to finally be free from the claws around its throat that have plagued it since that dark day in Japan, almost two years ago? Get. Out. Of. My. Way. I've been fighting a war ever since I came back to this company. The faces change: the House of Howlett, the Age of Gods, the Council, the Pack...every time one threat gets taken down, another one emerges, and there's going to come a time when I just can't take it anymore. That day is not today. I want to win this match. I want to be the one to stand tall at the end of the night, because I can trust myself to get the job done. Because this? This is a job that needs doing and needs doing PROPERLY.
The person who wins the Roulette is going to go to Night of the Immortals. The person who wins the Roulette has a God-given obligation to beat the ever-loving hell out of Xavier Cross, and take that World Championship away from that gutless, egocentric coward. That's why I want it to be me. Because Cross? Devlin Raine was my friend. Bob Pooler was my friend. And I'm not going to just sit here and watch as you brutalize anyone who tries to take your blood-soaked throne away from you. I thought you'd changed. I thought you were a better man than this. Apparently, all it ever comes down to is what Xavier Cross thinks. All it ever comes down to is what makes Xavier Cross happiest in life. Fine then. You want to ruin our home for your happiness?
I will take your happiness to save our home.
Andrew runs his hands through his hair as he checks his phone, sighing. "Dammit."
"What?" Danielle looks up from her coffee, confused. "Something wrong?"
"I mean, it's dirtsheets, so take it with a grain of salt, but..." Andrew shrugs. "Pax's mom. Saying she probably died not too long ago." He shakes his head. "Losing his mom so young...like, he gave up the Olympics to try to help her, and now...Jesus."
"Yeah." Danielle nods, walking over and taking Andrew's hand. "Makes sense. Don't know if you should reach out to him?"
"He's a private guy." Andrew shakes his head. "Wouldn't be my place to just reach out based on dirt sheet writing. He'll open up to people in time, and something tells me that he doesn't exactly see me as a resource."
"Why not?" Danielle tilts her head. "You're a veteran, a Hall of Famer, you're both former amateur wrestlers, you're both Minnesotans, there's plenty of common ground."
"Yeah, but every time we've matched up he's had words for me and my failings." Andrew shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe I'll reach out later, couple it with congratulations for the title win. That way it's at least got a positive side to things?"
"Makes sense." Danielle smiles up at Andrew, pausing. "So...you've got the 'I think we need to talk' look on your face. What's up?"
Andrew sighs, looking to the side for a moment, before looking back at Danielle. "Am I letting you down?"
Danielle blinks. "How do you mean?"
"I just..." Andrew looks to the side. "We haven't...y'know..."
"Screwed?" Danielle deadpans, and Andrew winces. She smiles, squeezing his hand. "No. You're not letting me down. You're not disappointing me. You don't want to have sex. I get that."
"But that's not how it's supposed to work, right?" Andrew looks down at his wife, clearly uncomfortable with the entire conversation but forging ahead nonetheless. "I'm supposed to want to. You're beautiful. I know that. I can see that. We're married. I just..."
Danielle leans in and plants a gentle kiss on Andrew's lips, smiling softly again. "I don't take it as an insult. Andrew, I remember you telling me those stories about that girl in Japan. You said you couldn't then. Some people just...don't have a sex drive. Doesn't make them any less of a person, doesn't make them any less whole. I knew you were asexual when I married you. That doesn't mean I love you any less, or that you're letting me down in any way." She pauses, grinning. "Just means my battery budget's higher than normal."
Andrew lets out a groan, and Danielle gives a little fist-pump of triumph, grinning ear to ear. Andrew sighs, nodding, and hugs her briefly before taking a step back. "Okay. Thank you. I just...Vivienne linked me a thing the other night, and I didn't know how to have the conversation with you about it. I guess you've been expecting this for a while?"
Danielle smirks. "Andrew, you asked if I was upset because you went out and got a new bath set without asking me. If you think you're not measuring up, you have no problem vocalizing it. So yeah, I've been expecting this for a little bit. Glad we had the conversation, though. Get that weight off your chest."
"Yeah." Andrew nods, smiling. "Thanks. For...y'know. Being so understanding."
"One of the many services I offer." Danielle grins, scooping back up her coffee as she walks towards the bedroom. "Now come on and get ready. You promised me a movie, and I intend to collect."
Andrew rolls his eyes, smiling. "Yes ma'am."