The Climb

[maddog]

Mark jolted awake, the echoes of howls still ringing in his ears. The room was dark, and the only light came from the flickering shadows cast by the moon through the window. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. It was that dream again, the one that always came before a big match.

Mark looked over at his wife Heather, who was still sleeping soundly. Mark pulled his side of the blankets back and quietly exited the bed, and then the room all together. Mark poured himself a glass of water as he took a seat at his kitchen table. As he ran his hand over his freshly buzzed hair he kept playing the dream over in his mind.

In the dream, Mark was not just a man but a pitbull, strong and determined, with an American flag bandanna in place of a collar around his neck. He stood at the edge of a dense forest, staring up at the tallest mountain in all the Appalachian range. The peak was shrouded in mist, a daunting challenge that beckoned him forward.

Mark, the pitbull, knew he had to reach the summit. It wasn't just about the climb; it was about proving his strength, his perseverance, and his right to be there. But as he took his first step, he heard the ominous growls behind him. He turned and saw a pack of wolves, their eyes glinting with malice, teeth bared in a snarl. These wolves were relentless, representing every obstacle and adversary he had ever faced in his career as the "Mad Dog".

The path was steep and treacherous, each step more difficult than the last. Rocks and thorns tore at his paws, and the air grew thinner as he climbed higher. The wolves were always there, nipping at his heels, trying to drag him down. Their presence was a constant reminder of the challenges he faced, the critics and opponents who doubted him.

Mark's muscles burned, and his lungs heaved with the effort, but he never stopped. He could feel the weight of the world upon his back as he climbed the mountain, and the hot breath of the wolves at his back as they looked to devour him. Each time the wolves closed in, Mark found a renewed burst of energy, driven by the desire to reach the top and prove himself.

Doubt whispered insidiously in his mind, telling him to give up, to let the wolves win. But Mark shook it off, focusing on the peak that seemed just out of reach. He had come too far to turn back now. The summit loomed closer, and with a final, herculean effort, Mark reached the top.

The world spread out beneath him in a breathtaking panorama, not just with a view of the Appalachian town, but of the whole world. But, there was no time to savor the victory. The wolves had followed him to the peak, surrounding him, ready to attack. But Mark was no longer the same pitbull who had started this journey. He had been forged in the fires of adversity, honed by every challenge, and tempered by his unwavering resolve.

With a thunderous growl, Mark launched himself at the pack with his fangs showing. As Mark would take the first wolf by the neck the rest of the pack would pounce on Mark. He felt their teeth sinking into his flesh when…

“Daddy, are you ok?”

Mark’s eyes popped open, and his head lifted from his hand that rest against the table. Mark had fallen asleep once more, and the dream had come again. As he blinked and rubbed his eyes clear he heard the angelic voice of his daughter repeat her question.

Daddy are you ok?

Mark smiled as he looked at his old child, his pride and his joy.

Yeah baby girl, daddy is great now.

With the reassuring tone of his answer, his daughter threw her arms around his neck and gave him a reassuring hug, which was all the fuel Mark needed to climb the mountain of IWF that lay ahead of him.

But I, I gotta keep trying

Gotta keep my head held high
There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move

Always gonna be an uphill battle

Shew boy, five men steppen into the ring looking to earn themselves a shot at some gold. Old Mad Dog is to step into that ring like it’s Rocken Sock’em Robots, jacking jaws and breaking laws like drinken White Claws. That means five of us, one short of a six-pack, just the way I’m gonna leave y’all boys. Gonna have ya heads ringing lille a doorbell, and I ain’t talken the camera you be catchen them porch pirates on. Na, I’m talking about clappen ears, then clapping cheeks.

I know it ain’t gonna be easy, but the Wright family motto is “if it ain’t as hard as it can be, don’t sign me up”. My whole dang life done been an uphill battle, and I know this match ain’t gonna be no different, but the harder the squeeze, the sweeter the juice. The grind, the uphill battle, it’s all made old Mad Dog who he is, and I wouldn’t trade it for a dang thing man.

I reckon you could call Mad Dog Sysiphus. What, ya surprised I know who that is? Shoot, I bet ya don’t, so let Mad Dog teach ya thing. See, this here climb got me feeling like Sisyphus, a king from Greek Mythology, who ticked off them Greek gods, and was punished by Zeus to push a big old rock up a hill in the depths of Hades. Dang dude had to do it for eternity. I’ve been waiting for someone to say, “oh you’re making comeback” or, “oh you going for the big time again”, yeah I am. People just don’t understand they just don’t get it. I’ve been around and in this sport my whole dang life, and I ain’t done yet brother. At my age and stage in life this run might seem like it’s an uphill battle, but really to me it's not a battle, it’s life.

Life itself is a battle. It's a struggle! It's the test of yourself, that's what life's about. Not just physically but mentally. See my goal isn’t getting that rock to the top of the mountain. My goal actually is pushing that rock, because pushing that dang rock isn't a punishment to me. Na man, to me that makes me harder mentally and physically. It gives me much more than I give it. I want to struggle. I want to have to claw and scratch to the top. I want to dig in and I want a push, and I don't want it to end. I’ve been to the top of the mountain and I rested and enjoyed the view, but now I’m back to climb again. When and if I ever get the rock to the top of the mountain again, I’ll push it back down myself.

I don’t want to rest, and I don't want to coast. Never again do I want to reach a point in my life, where I say, “that's it, I've done enough, I ain’t given any more. I’m not going push anymore.”. That day will never come. I’ll never stop pushing, and I’ll never let this sport stop pushing me. I know there ain’t a man in this match that’s gonna push me like I push that boulder, and I know none of ya gonna hit as hard as life.

Nick Danger, you and I meeting here and in WGWF, kinda like you and me both done put our boots to Tiggers backside. That’s about where our similarities end. I’m just wondering if anything else is gonna end, you know like your career when Mad Dog beats ya twice in the same month. Ain’t nothing wrong with Nick, I’m sure you’re a stand-up individual who uses his left and right turn indicators, but when you standing in the way of me and putten food on the table for my family, I got no choice but to dip ya in the river and hang ya in the barn to dry.

TJ Alexander, I seen this dude round the sport, always floundering and occupying the bottom rungs. TJ let’s be honest, you ain’t sh*t riding or walken. You London-tart this match gonna end like 1776, you getten beat and ran outta town while Mad Dog, just like U, S, of A, going to go on and be the best dang thing on planet Earth. And you, TJ, I’d assume you gonna go on bout ya business somewhere else, only after you GO MAD!

Nate Harris and Ram, shoot I don’t know nothen bout either of y’all. I can say that a Ram ain’t crap compared to an F-One-Fitty. Shoot, boy you even losing out to Silverado and Tundra. Best I can tell about ya you ain’t even a Ram around here, you more like a Hyundai Santa Fe you ain’t really a truck you just pretending to be one, just like you just pretending to be some bad a$s. A Santa Fe gets exposed when it comes to pulling a big load, and you gonna get exposed at Coliseum when the going gets tough.

Nate, all I can say is you ain’t gonna be Nate The Great on my watch. I say that, because while you may have potential to be great, you aren’t gonna be the best long as Mad Dog is around. See to be great, you gotta be the best, you gotta be the man, and I don’t remember who it was that said it, but some old famous guy once said, to be the man, you gotta beat the man. Y’ALL LOOKEN AT THE MAN!!!

Old Mad Dog almost has that boulder at the top of the hill, and when I get that win at Coliseum I’ll be at the top of the hill. Then, I’m gonna let that boulder roll back down the down and flatten J-TV as old Mad Dog becomes the next champion of your television. That’s the way this is gonna go, and the rest of y’all can go… MAD!