Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Mar 24, 2019 17:57:49 GMT
Looking back overall, I don't think it's fair to say that I'm a failure in my career. IWF didn't think so when they selected me for the Hall of Fame, anyway. But there have been points, more than I'd maybe like to admit, where the best description for me has been "failure." I've probably lost more matches in my career than I've won. I've done some pathetic things to get attention, and they've more often than not backfired. I've failed my way from the heights of the wrestling world all the way to back alleys and getting light tubes tweezered out of my back. I know how far the fall is when you fail. And I've made the climb back up, inch by bloody inch.
It isn't easy. It's ugly, and it's painful, and you're going to want to stop at some point and go "is this really worth it?" The answer is yes. Of course it's worth it. It was worth it the first time you tried, why wouldn't it be worth it now? I had to learn not to give up on my dreams, even if it would be so easy to. It's a hard lesson to learn, and an even harder one to teach yourself. There were days where I felt like I wasn't worthy of any of the good things in my life. My family, my friends, the success I'd seen, my fans...I felt like an impostor, someone walking in the place of the person who really deserved it. It took all my strength, and the strength of others, to help me rise back out of that place, and I never want to fall that far again.
Being in that place, though...it gives you a fire, a desperation deep in the pit of your stomach. You learn something very important about yourself at your lowest, when you've failed as deeply as you can fail. I learned that no matter how much I loathed myself, there was always that spark in there, begging to be fueled. That love, that desire, was always there, no matter how much was piled on it, threatening to crush it underneath the weight of all the loathing in the world. And once you've worked your way back from the depths like that? Well, nothing seems impossible anymore. That's how I know I can win the Roulette. That's how I know I can main event Night of the Immortals. That's how I know I can become a two-time Imperial Champion.
I've done this all before.
The Pack wants to run interference for Xavier? Caleb, Dean, Warren...boys, you do NOT want to test me. Step to me, and I will take each one of you and throw you over that top rope so hard you end up in Indiana. I've got no patience for your gang warfare shtick, and this time, assholes, I've got backup. Dean, buddy, you better pray you can last the three entries it'll take for Caleb to get out there, because if I know Ethan? He'll be right on your heels, out for your blood no matter what happens in your match, and I'm happy to help him out. Warren? You're going to come out to that ring, all fresh and ready, and do you know what you're going to see? A sea of hostile faces, all ready to turn your ass around and send you back to Centralia.
The Pack's days are numbered. Mark my damn words. And I'm ready to give my all to make sure that statement is true. Some have given all, but they weren't ready. They didn't want it, they didn't brace themselves for it. I've accepted, ever since I saw Mason St. Croix's skull split open on national television, ever since I saw Fiona McFly choked to death, ever since I saw Jessica Reed beaten like a piñata, that this is the kind of war that might require the biggest of sacrifices. And I'm ready to be the one to lay myself down on that wire. If it's going to be that dangerous, you need to send your best, after all. And if there's one thing that I've demonstrated in my career, time and again, it's that no matter how many times you knock me down, I will always pull myself back up off the floor and beg for one more round.
Despite what Night of the Immortals promises, I'm mortal. I'm human. That's just the truth of things. But more than that, at the core of it all, is a simple truth that has driven the last three years of my career, that has brought me back from the depths of failure, brought me strength when I was at my weakest, and reminded me of the truth when I so desperately wanted to believe the sweetest of lies...
I. AM. UNBREAKABLE!
Andrew looked at the phone in his hand, taking a deep breath as he glanced up at the door to the pizzeria. He hadn't expected to read the message when he got out of bed that morning. She hadn't wanted anything to do with him or the world of wrestling for years. And yet, there it had been, clear as day: instructions to meet at a specific restaurant in Chicago. Alone. Six o'clock.
He had held out hope, somewhere in his foolish heart, that someday he'd receive a different result than all the times he'd tried over the last three, almost four years. His father swore up and down that she'd changed her phone number, but Andrew knew better. At least, he had hoped he did. And that faith had, apparently, been rewarded. He hadn't even finished reading the message before he was replying, saying he'd be there. Now, all he could do was wait. Wait for the sibling he had missed and never knew how to apologize to.
The door opened, and Andrew's eyes flicked up. It took him a few seconds to reconcile what he was seeing with his memories. The haircut was completely different, sides shaves and top feathered back, a lavender that he never remembered in all his years. The Vivienne Rodgers shirt was, in retrospect, a bit of a predictable choice. They had always been close, closer than any of her blood relatives, and it sent a bit of a pointed message. The face was all different, almost swerving between masculine and feminine as the light hit it, a combination of the years apart and, he presumed, contouring. Shapeshifting in a bottle, he swore. Someone needed to tell the church. But enough was there. Enough was there to convince him, even before the figure walked over and sat across from Andrew in the booth at the back of the restaurant. Andrew set his phone down, staring across the table, and tried to take in what he was seeing.
The newcomer flashed a smile at him. "Hey, bro. Glad you answered. It's, uh...it's been a while, huh?"
Andrew nodded slowly, jaw working a little. "I...uh, yeah. To be honest, I didn't ever think this day would come. I was pretty sure you were sticking to the whole 'I don't ever want to talk to you again' thing. And given where I was last time we saw each other, I...I don't blame you."
"Yeah, well..." they shrugged, offering another smile. "Times change. So do people. You've finally got your head on straight. And besides, I never said I never wanted to talk to you again. I just said someone needed to knock some sense into you." They reached over and took Andrew's phone, tapping the lock screen, a picture of Andrew and Danielle on their honeymoon. "She seems to have done a pretty good job, all reports considered."
Andrew nodded, taking a deep breath and locking eyes with his companion. "So...you changed your hair." He couldn't help but grin at the lame attempt at ice-breaking, and he was rewarded with a brief chuckle. "Still got it."
They nodded, smiling. "Yeah. A lot of things have changed since the last time we talked, Andy. But it's still me in here. Still the same dork who made a lot of poor life choices. I just make them a little differently now."
"Welcome to life, kid?" Andrew replied rhetorically, earning a full-fledged laugh this time. He smiled, reaching over and taking their hand. "Whatever you need from me, I'm here. And if Mom and Dad don't get it, then know you've at least got me."
"Thanks, Andy. That means a lot." They looked back into his eyes, taking a deep breath. "So...we've got a lot of catching up to do. I mean, your last four years have been all over TV and social media, so I kind of have an idea, but you don't know what I've been up to."
"That'd be basically correct." Andrew grumbled. "Sometimes I hate social media. Takes all the weight out of reunions like this."
They nodded, rolling their eyes. "Don't tell me about how awful social media is, I know all too well." A moment passed, an uncomfortable, tense moment, before they spoke again. "I suppose the first thing to start with is that I go by Cals now..." Andrew drew closer, listening intently to the sibling he thought he would never see again as we fade.
It isn't easy. It's ugly, and it's painful, and you're going to want to stop at some point and go "is this really worth it?" The answer is yes. Of course it's worth it. It was worth it the first time you tried, why wouldn't it be worth it now? I had to learn not to give up on my dreams, even if it would be so easy to. It's a hard lesson to learn, and an even harder one to teach yourself. There were days where I felt like I wasn't worthy of any of the good things in my life. My family, my friends, the success I'd seen, my fans...I felt like an impostor, someone walking in the place of the person who really deserved it. It took all my strength, and the strength of others, to help me rise back out of that place, and I never want to fall that far again.
Being in that place, though...it gives you a fire, a desperation deep in the pit of your stomach. You learn something very important about yourself at your lowest, when you've failed as deeply as you can fail. I learned that no matter how much I loathed myself, there was always that spark in there, begging to be fueled. That love, that desire, was always there, no matter how much was piled on it, threatening to crush it underneath the weight of all the loathing in the world. And once you've worked your way back from the depths like that? Well, nothing seems impossible anymore. That's how I know I can win the Roulette. That's how I know I can main event Night of the Immortals. That's how I know I can become a two-time Imperial Champion.
I've done this all before.
The Pack wants to run interference for Xavier? Caleb, Dean, Warren...boys, you do NOT want to test me. Step to me, and I will take each one of you and throw you over that top rope so hard you end up in Indiana. I've got no patience for your gang warfare shtick, and this time, assholes, I've got backup. Dean, buddy, you better pray you can last the three entries it'll take for Caleb to get out there, because if I know Ethan? He'll be right on your heels, out for your blood no matter what happens in your match, and I'm happy to help him out. Warren? You're going to come out to that ring, all fresh and ready, and do you know what you're going to see? A sea of hostile faces, all ready to turn your ass around and send you back to Centralia.
The Pack's days are numbered. Mark my damn words. And I'm ready to give my all to make sure that statement is true. Some have given all, but they weren't ready. They didn't want it, they didn't brace themselves for it. I've accepted, ever since I saw Mason St. Croix's skull split open on national television, ever since I saw Fiona McFly choked to death, ever since I saw Jessica Reed beaten like a piñata, that this is the kind of war that might require the biggest of sacrifices. And I'm ready to be the one to lay myself down on that wire. If it's going to be that dangerous, you need to send your best, after all. And if there's one thing that I've demonstrated in my career, time and again, it's that no matter how many times you knock me down, I will always pull myself back up off the floor and beg for one more round.
Despite what Night of the Immortals promises, I'm mortal. I'm human. That's just the truth of things. But more than that, at the core of it all, is a simple truth that has driven the last three years of my career, that has brought me back from the depths of failure, brought me strength when I was at my weakest, and reminded me of the truth when I so desperately wanted to believe the sweetest of lies...
I. AM. UNBREAKABLE!
Andrew looked at the phone in his hand, taking a deep breath as he glanced up at the door to the pizzeria. He hadn't expected to read the message when he got out of bed that morning. She hadn't wanted anything to do with him or the world of wrestling for years. And yet, there it had been, clear as day: instructions to meet at a specific restaurant in Chicago. Alone. Six o'clock.
He had held out hope, somewhere in his foolish heart, that someday he'd receive a different result than all the times he'd tried over the last three, almost four years. His father swore up and down that she'd changed her phone number, but Andrew knew better. At least, he had hoped he did. And that faith had, apparently, been rewarded. He hadn't even finished reading the message before he was replying, saying he'd be there. Now, all he could do was wait. Wait for the sibling he had missed and never knew how to apologize to.
The door opened, and Andrew's eyes flicked up. It took him a few seconds to reconcile what he was seeing with his memories. The haircut was completely different, sides shaves and top feathered back, a lavender that he never remembered in all his years. The Vivienne Rodgers shirt was, in retrospect, a bit of a predictable choice. They had always been close, closer than any of her blood relatives, and it sent a bit of a pointed message. The face was all different, almost swerving between masculine and feminine as the light hit it, a combination of the years apart and, he presumed, contouring. Shapeshifting in a bottle, he swore. Someone needed to tell the church. But enough was there. Enough was there to convince him, even before the figure walked over and sat across from Andrew in the booth at the back of the restaurant. Andrew set his phone down, staring across the table, and tried to take in what he was seeing.
The newcomer flashed a smile at him. "Hey, bro. Glad you answered. It's, uh...it's been a while, huh?"
Andrew nodded slowly, jaw working a little. "I...uh, yeah. To be honest, I didn't ever think this day would come. I was pretty sure you were sticking to the whole 'I don't ever want to talk to you again' thing. And given where I was last time we saw each other, I...I don't blame you."
"Yeah, well..." they shrugged, offering another smile. "Times change. So do people. You've finally got your head on straight. And besides, I never said I never wanted to talk to you again. I just said someone needed to knock some sense into you." They reached over and took Andrew's phone, tapping the lock screen, a picture of Andrew and Danielle on their honeymoon. "She seems to have done a pretty good job, all reports considered."
Andrew nodded, taking a deep breath and locking eyes with his companion. "So...you changed your hair." He couldn't help but grin at the lame attempt at ice-breaking, and he was rewarded with a brief chuckle. "Still got it."
They nodded, smiling. "Yeah. A lot of things have changed since the last time we talked, Andy. But it's still me in here. Still the same dork who made a lot of poor life choices. I just make them a little differently now."
"Welcome to life, kid?" Andrew replied rhetorically, earning a full-fledged laugh this time. He smiled, reaching over and taking their hand. "Whatever you need from me, I'm here. And if Mom and Dad don't get it, then know you've at least got me."
"Thanks, Andy. That means a lot." They looked back into his eyes, taking a deep breath. "So...we've got a lot of catching up to do. I mean, your last four years have been all over TV and social media, so I kind of have an idea, but you don't know what I've been up to."
"That'd be basically correct." Andrew grumbled. "Sometimes I hate social media. Takes all the weight out of reunions like this."
They nodded, rolling their eyes. "Don't tell me about how awful social media is, I know all too well." A moment passed, an uncomfortable, tense moment, before they spoke again. "I suppose the first thing to start with is that I go by Cals now..." Andrew drew closer, listening intently to the sibling he thought he would never see again as we fade.
Well howdy there pardner.