Post by Shelly Diamond on Dec 16, 2014 16:06:40 GMT
4:00 AM, the alarm goes off, I’ve already been up for an hour at that point doing chin ups on the bar I installed in my bed room door way. The alarm is to remind me to eat something.
I grab a quick protein bar before my ten mile run. I know at my age I should be careful of how much pressure I put on my knees but if I don’t push myself to get better then I get cocky… And I can’t afford to get cocky again.
5:30 AM, I hit the gym, I start with heavy weights, I go right to the bench press and push myself harder, I press 250 pounds today five times before my chest and arms can’t take it anymore. I don’t slow down, I move right over to the free weights and begin squatting. Leg strength is important; you need to be able to kick out no matter how tired you are or how heavy the person is pinning you.
7:00 AM, Amanda shows up to the gym, chipper and happy as always in her bright pink sports bra and trunks, blond haired tied back into a braid, she smiles at me.
“What’s up coach?”
I don’t return the grin, instead I point to the dingy ring in the center of the gym and tell her to start running the ropes. I get in there with her, we keep pace with each other for the first few rounds but then I speed up. I start to dig my heels in and go faster and faster. Eventually Amanda stops, something in my eyes startles here.
“Rayne?”
Her voice disappears into the background now as the ring starts to fade away and I’m brought back to Monday night. Ana Valentine laid flat out on her back in the center of the ring. I had the match won, proved my dominance and instead of going for the pinfall I show boated. I did something completely out of character for me and got involved with the crowd. I allowed myself to get swept up in it all and it cost me.
“Rayne?”
I slide out of the ring past Amanda and ram my elbow into the nearest heavy bag and start to unleash on it. My fists aren’t taped, it’s just flesh against the old leather bag, the sand inside feels like concrete with each hit. I don’t give a shit. I see her smiling, sneering face. I see that stupid fucking grin after she stole that win over me. I see Ana Valentine and my blood boils.
“Rayne, you ok?”
Her hand touches my shoulder and I spin around, she flinches.
“Do I look ok!?”
She immediately backs off.
“You saw the match, you saw what happened. I let myself be weak, allowed arrogance to cloud my judgment and it cost me a huge win.”
“Yeah but it’s not the end of the world.”
“Are you fucking serious right now?”
I move a little closer, looking down my nose at this twenty year old girl.
“You don’t get a second chance at a first impression.”
“Yeah but you kicked her ass.”
“I lost!”
I bark at her a little louder than I mean too but it’s really starting to get to me. How hard I work, how hard I push myself, everything I’ve given up and still I get the short end of the stick…
“I don’t have my whole damn career ahead of me like you, I’ve got right here, right now and if I don’t beat this bitches now, well…”
I think about the high school gyms, the conventions, the autograph signings and all the people who told me how good I used to be.
“There might not be a next time.”
“Rayne, you can’t be so hard on yourself, you’re a legend among women wrestlers. The things you’ve done, the places you’ve been, it’s why…”
She trailed off.
“It’s why I came to the school, why I followed you when you left, you’re one of the best that’s ever been and that’s who I want to train with.”
She smiled at me, her blue eyes sparkled as they absorbed the light from the sun slipping through the windows, her hair would look…
I shake my head and sneer at her.[/font]
“Compliments will get you nowhere with me. Get the hell back in the ring. Run the ropes. I’ve got to get ready.”
She skipped away back into the ring and started running the ropes again. I watched her for a minute, the way she moved, the way her body glistened from the thin layer of sweat, the way her hair brushed across her back as she ran…
I shook my head again. No time for thoughts like that. Too old, she’s too young and I’ve got a match to get ready for.
Mercedes Vargas.
I’m getting a little déjà vu. Here we are in the week leading up to Diamonds are Forever about to face each other in a match that will determine the direction of the Diamonds Division.
Just like last year.
Only things have changed a little bit now, I’ve been back, busting my ass to get to the top of the rankings and earn myself a shot at the Diamonds Championship while you’ve been out, wrestling god knows where, waiting for the perfect opportunity to come back.
I feel for you Mercy, I know what it’s like to think you’re better than every other Diamond on the roster only to be proved wrong every single time you get the chance to face any of the so called elite…
Actually I don’t. I’m not a pompous arrogant little bitch who constantly needs to drone on and on about her past accomplishment. I don’t live my life with my head in the clouds looking down on all the little peons beneath me. I live in the dirt and the mud with all the other animals, fighting to survive.
Unlike you I walk into every match knowing it could my last Mercy, knowing full damn well one wrong move could be a career ending injury. Meanwhile you take unnecessary risks, showboating, putting your body on the line for some cheap cheers or boos. You go out of your way to entertain people.
I don’t want to entertain. I want to be the best.
I get it, the fans, they put money in our pockets and food on our tables. But I didn’t get into the business to be rich and famous, I don’t care about the merchandise sales or how many shirts I’ve got. I’m extremely single minded in my goal, my tunnel vision is focused like a goddamn laser on the IWF Diamonds Championship.
No other belt in any other company means a goddamn thing. IWF is where the best of the best wrestle and only one of us can stand on top of that mountain. Only one us can be good enough to beat the others and hold that prize. Right now it’s Amber Richards, a vicious little whore with a mean streak a mile long. Ana Valentine is nipping at her heels. You and me? We mean nothing to them, their focused on their little personal rivalry right now, battling over the gold. But their the best, you and me? We’re just a couple of fucking roaches looking for scraps…
But one of us, the winner of this match, will get to go on and challenge one of them. We’ll get our shot to see where we stand in the grand scheme of IWF.
I don’t know about you Mercy but I want that title shot. My hand grazed the brass ring this past Monday night and I came up short.
That shit isn’t happening again.
See, you live your life in mediocrity Mercy. Floating around from fed to fed just looking for the path of least resistance. You win a belt here and there and every where but not a one of them mean a goddamn thing. You always find your way back to the big yard and always find yourself beneath the boot heels of someone better than you.
This week it’s me.
You’re stepping back into an IWF ring looking to pick up where you left off, skirting the mid card, occasionally being given a shot at one of the top girls. You’ll make a couple of bucks, get some more exposure and then you’ll be right back out the door over to Japan or Europe to use the recent television time to charge more per appearance. I’m not here for the quick buck. I’m not here just to mess around before heading off to some place else. IWF is my home now, these girls, love them or hate them are my family now and we’re going to tear each other apart until there is only one of us left standing. If you can’t handle that then you need to get the fuck out.
I’m going to bend your fucking bones until they break. I’m going to beat you until you bleed all over the ring. I’m going to put you down, lay you out and leave you for dead because I don’t just want the IWF Diamonds Championship match, I NEED IT!
All you need is another quick check like the ring rat that you are.
Collect your money and get the fuck out of my ring.
You think you can handle me, you think you know what’s coming for you and maybe, once upon a time you were right. But now? You don’t know shit. You don’t know how far I’m willing to go to secure my place in history. You don’t know how bad I want to hold that belt. You don’t know what being the best bitch in the world means to me.
You don’t know what I’m capable of.
I’m not holding back anymore. I’m not worried about leaving the fans happy or giving them their monies worth. All I care about is picking up another win, climbing another rung, getting closer to the Diamonds Championship and right now you’re in my way Mercy and that’s a very bad place for you to be.
Be a good bitch Sunday and lay down.
She didn’t even shed a tear as she stood in the door way with her bags, Ayla St. James, dressed like the movie star she always wanted to be with a body to die for.
“I’m sorry Sandy, this is just something I’ve got to do.”
She put her two bags down and tried to hug me but I pulled away. I didn’t cry either, didn’t have the strength too. I’d given three years of my life to this woman who I thought loved me and now…
“Just leave Ayla.”
“Sandy, don’t be like that. You know we were-“
“We were what? Just messing around?”
My words were hated and full of anger, is that what she really thought we were? Just a couple of girls having fun?
“No, that’s not what I mean.”
“That’s sure as hell what it sounded like you were going to say.”
She sighed and reached for her bags again.
“I love you Sandy, you’re like the sister I never had.”
“You were more to me than a sister.”
“I know and I’m sorry. Please-“
“Just go.”
I couldn’t look at her, didn’t want to. For three years we lived together, loved each other, even talked about starting a family and now she’s just going to move out on a whim… To be with…
“Come on Ayla.”
Kyle… Falcon… He took one of her bags from her as she turned her back on me and walked down the side walk to the car.
“Look, I’m sorry Sandy, neither of us wanted things to go this way.”
“Don’t be. I’m just sorry I bought into that love shit.”
I didn’t wait for anymore of his worldy advice or apologies, I just shut the door in his face. Time to train…
I grab a quick protein bar before my ten mile run. I know at my age I should be careful of how much pressure I put on my knees but if I don’t push myself to get better then I get cocky… And I can’t afford to get cocky again.
5:30 AM, I hit the gym, I start with heavy weights, I go right to the bench press and push myself harder, I press 250 pounds today five times before my chest and arms can’t take it anymore. I don’t slow down, I move right over to the free weights and begin squatting. Leg strength is important; you need to be able to kick out no matter how tired you are or how heavy the person is pinning you.
7:00 AM, Amanda shows up to the gym, chipper and happy as always in her bright pink sports bra and trunks, blond haired tied back into a braid, she smiles at me.
“What’s up coach?”
I don’t return the grin, instead I point to the dingy ring in the center of the gym and tell her to start running the ropes. I get in there with her, we keep pace with each other for the first few rounds but then I speed up. I start to dig my heels in and go faster and faster. Eventually Amanda stops, something in my eyes startles here.
“Rayne?”
Her voice disappears into the background now as the ring starts to fade away and I’m brought back to Monday night. Ana Valentine laid flat out on her back in the center of the ring. I had the match won, proved my dominance and instead of going for the pinfall I show boated. I did something completely out of character for me and got involved with the crowd. I allowed myself to get swept up in it all and it cost me.
“Rayne?”
I slide out of the ring past Amanda and ram my elbow into the nearest heavy bag and start to unleash on it. My fists aren’t taped, it’s just flesh against the old leather bag, the sand inside feels like concrete with each hit. I don’t give a shit. I see her smiling, sneering face. I see that stupid fucking grin after she stole that win over me. I see Ana Valentine and my blood boils.
“Rayne, you ok?”
Her hand touches my shoulder and I spin around, she flinches.
“Do I look ok!?”
She immediately backs off.
“You saw the match, you saw what happened. I let myself be weak, allowed arrogance to cloud my judgment and it cost me a huge win.”
“Yeah but it’s not the end of the world.”
“Are you fucking serious right now?”
I move a little closer, looking down my nose at this twenty year old girl.
“You don’t get a second chance at a first impression.”
“Yeah but you kicked her ass.”
“I lost!”
I bark at her a little louder than I mean too but it’s really starting to get to me. How hard I work, how hard I push myself, everything I’ve given up and still I get the short end of the stick…
“I don’t have my whole damn career ahead of me like you, I’ve got right here, right now and if I don’t beat this bitches now, well…”
I think about the high school gyms, the conventions, the autograph signings and all the people who told me how good I used to be.
“There might not be a next time.”
“Rayne, you can’t be so hard on yourself, you’re a legend among women wrestlers. The things you’ve done, the places you’ve been, it’s why…”
She trailed off.
“It’s why I came to the school, why I followed you when you left, you’re one of the best that’s ever been and that’s who I want to train with.”
She smiled at me, her blue eyes sparkled as they absorbed the light from the sun slipping through the windows, her hair would look…
I shake my head and sneer at her.[/font]
“Compliments will get you nowhere with me. Get the hell back in the ring. Run the ropes. I’ve got to get ready.”
She skipped away back into the ring and started running the ropes again. I watched her for a minute, the way she moved, the way her body glistened from the thin layer of sweat, the way her hair brushed across her back as she ran…
I shook my head again. No time for thoughts like that. Too old, she’s too young and I’ve got a match to get ready for.
Mercedes Vargas.
I’m getting a little déjà vu. Here we are in the week leading up to Diamonds are Forever about to face each other in a match that will determine the direction of the Diamonds Division.
Just like last year.
Only things have changed a little bit now, I’ve been back, busting my ass to get to the top of the rankings and earn myself a shot at the Diamonds Championship while you’ve been out, wrestling god knows where, waiting for the perfect opportunity to come back.
I feel for you Mercy, I know what it’s like to think you’re better than every other Diamond on the roster only to be proved wrong every single time you get the chance to face any of the so called elite…
Actually I don’t. I’m not a pompous arrogant little bitch who constantly needs to drone on and on about her past accomplishment. I don’t live my life with my head in the clouds looking down on all the little peons beneath me. I live in the dirt and the mud with all the other animals, fighting to survive.
Unlike you I walk into every match knowing it could my last Mercy, knowing full damn well one wrong move could be a career ending injury. Meanwhile you take unnecessary risks, showboating, putting your body on the line for some cheap cheers or boos. You go out of your way to entertain people.
I don’t want to entertain. I want to be the best.
I get it, the fans, they put money in our pockets and food on our tables. But I didn’t get into the business to be rich and famous, I don’t care about the merchandise sales or how many shirts I’ve got. I’m extremely single minded in my goal, my tunnel vision is focused like a goddamn laser on the IWF Diamonds Championship.
No other belt in any other company means a goddamn thing. IWF is where the best of the best wrestle and only one of us can stand on top of that mountain. Only one us can be good enough to beat the others and hold that prize. Right now it’s Amber Richards, a vicious little whore with a mean streak a mile long. Ana Valentine is nipping at her heels. You and me? We mean nothing to them, their focused on their little personal rivalry right now, battling over the gold. But their the best, you and me? We’re just a couple of fucking roaches looking for scraps…
But one of us, the winner of this match, will get to go on and challenge one of them. We’ll get our shot to see where we stand in the grand scheme of IWF.
I don’t know about you Mercy but I want that title shot. My hand grazed the brass ring this past Monday night and I came up short.
That shit isn’t happening again.
See, you live your life in mediocrity Mercy. Floating around from fed to fed just looking for the path of least resistance. You win a belt here and there and every where but not a one of them mean a goddamn thing. You always find your way back to the big yard and always find yourself beneath the boot heels of someone better than you.
This week it’s me.
You’re stepping back into an IWF ring looking to pick up where you left off, skirting the mid card, occasionally being given a shot at one of the top girls. You’ll make a couple of bucks, get some more exposure and then you’ll be right back out the door over to Japan or Europe to use the recent television time to charge more per appearance. I’m not here for the quick buck. I’m not here just to mess around before heading off to some place else. IWF is my home now, these girls, love them or hate them are my family now and we’re going to tear each other apart until there is only one of us left standing. If you can’t handle that then you need to get the fuck out.
I’m going to bend your fucking bones until they break. I’m going to beat you until you bleed all over the ring. I’m going to put you down, lay you out and leave you for dead because I don’t just want the IWF Diamonds Championship match, I NEED IT!
All you need is another quick check like the ring rat that you are.
Collect your money and get the fuck out of my ring.
You think you can handle me, you think you know what’s coming for you and maybe, once upon a time you were right. But now? You don’t know shit. You don’t know how far I’m willing to go to secure my place in history. You don’t know how bad I want to hold that belt. You don’t know what being the best bitch in the world means to me.
You don’t know what I’m capable of.
I’m not holding back anymore. I’m not worried about leaving the fans happy or giving them their monies worth. All I care about is picking up another win, climbing another rung, getting closer to the Diamonds Championship and right now you’re in my way Mercy and that’s a very bad place for you to be.
Be a good bitch Sunday and lay down.
Two years ago.
She didn’t even shed a tear as she stood in the door way with her bags, Ayla St. James, dressed like the movie star she always wanted to be with a body to die for.
“I’m sorry Sandy, this is just something I’ve got to do.”
She put her two bags down and tried to hug me but I pulled away. I didn’t cry either, didn’t have the strength too. I’d given three years of my life to this woman who I thought loved me and now…
“Just leave Ayla.”
“Sandy, don’t be like that. You know we were-“
“We were what? Just messing around?”
My words were hated and full of anger, is that what she really thought we were? Just a couple of girls having fun?
“No, that’s not what I mean.”
“That’s sure as hell what it sounded like you were going to say.”
She sighed and reached for her bags again.
“I love you Sandy, you’re like the sister I never had.”
“You were more to me than a sister.”
“I know and I’m sorry. Please-“
“Just go.”
I couldn’t look at her, didn’t want to. For three years we lived together, loved each other, even talked about starting a family and now she’s just going to move out on a whim… To be with…
“Come on Ayla.”
Kyle… Falcon… He took one of her bags from her as she turned her back on me and walked down the side walk to the car.
“Look, I’m sorry Sandy, neither of us wanted things to go this way.”
“Don’t be. I’m just sorry I bought into that love shit.”
I didn’t wait for anymore of his worldy advice or apologies, I just shut the door in his face. Time to train…
Well howdy there pardner.