Post by Deleted on Jul 27, 2015 19:54:41 GMT
“Given enough time, any man may master the physical. With enough knowledge, any man may become wise. It is the true warrior who can master both....and surpass the result.”
As Nighthawk pulls tape tightly around his injured ribs as he lies down on the couch in his Chicago-area townhouse, pressing play on the first DVD in a 12-DVD set of Jake Conway as he prepares for the chance to win his first major championship in IWF, one can’t help but notice the supreme level of focus that appears in the way he carries himself that one might expect from a technical master of his well-earned reputation.
And while he carries himself less like the cocky egotist you might expect someone who is routinely called by his fans “Best in the World” and more like a well-trained master of the grappling arts who knows intimately what he happens to be capable of there is no doubt that the Chicago native feels truly prepared to, and ready for, deal with the challenge of facing someone everyone believes to be his equal. But while the “Wrestling Machine” is quite obviously mentally ready for the undertaking that he finds himself facing, it is not a ridiculous thing to wonder if a body that has been through as many wars as his has enough left in the tank to deal with a challenge of the sort that he faces this week.
But as he slowly pulls himself up to his feet, Nighthawk pulls a DV camera out and places it down on a nearby table. Clad in a black Aja Kong t-shirt, blue leather pants with Valencia orange piping up and down each leg, and black work boots, the “Wrestling Machine” glowers at the camera and reaches out to drink from a glass of water and take two Tylenol.
Nighthawk: “Vengeance is a powerful motivator. In the right hands, it can be the strongest and most powerful of motivators. It can guide someone far beyond what their own skills might happen to be.
But, and this is the part the man whose title I will take this week appears to be missing out on, it is not the only motivator. Sometimes being disrespected, being told you should aspire to be the protégé to a man who has spent the entirety of his career sullying the thing you love more and more each day, is all the motivation that a man could ever dream of needing.
Now I am no fool, Mr. Conway, and I know that you are very good. There are people in this company, men who are higher on the proverbial card than I am, who would try and lie to you about something like this. But I will not. Rather, I will tell you the truth of the thing.
Furthermore, I hold no false opinions about my own place in this sport. I am no one’s idea of a golden boy. I am not a matinee idol, or a superstar. I have spent years upon years in gyms you would pass right by, Mr. Conway, so that I could earn the nickname you seem to think I bestowed upon myself.
All I have ever wanted, the only goal I’ve ever had, is to be thought of as a craftsman, as a wrestler’s wrestler. That goal is only one more Hangman’s Clutch away, and this week, I get there.
I am no fool about any of this. You will be a test of the type I have not faced here yet. But I also know something else, something simpler:
I can beat you.
I knew I could beat you from the first time I saw you, and this week, I prove it. And the reason for that confidence in myself is simple: I’m sharper than you.
I mean really, Mr. Conway, you’re underestimating me. I’ve been more active than you since you won that title, and faced a higher quality of competition.
And for the past couple of weeks, I’ve been doing it with broken ribs.
Now you might claim yourself to be the best technician in the company.
I respond to this with one sentence, two little words if I’m being honest:
Prove It.
This time, Mr. Conway, I don’t have to look over my shoulder for another man as I climb up a ladder. This time, I don’t have to worry about a fraud passing himself off as a tough guy in the name of Kyle Mason waiting to stick a dagger in my back when the chance presents itself.
This time, Mr. Conway, I get the freedom to wrestle without looking over my shoulder.
This time, Mr. Conway, I do what I do best. And that is tie you into knots.
It’s always been about the wrestling for me, Mr. Conway. I’ve held no great interest in the idea of playing nice with men in suits to get what I want, when I could just beat people to get it. And if we’re being honest, that’s how I got here. I beat people.
And this week, when I step in the ring with you, I am going to beat you. I will make you tap. And I will take your title.
Goodnight Mr. Conway. May sleep give you the courage to go on.”
As Nighthawk pulls tape tightly around his injured ribs as he lies down on the couch in his Chicago-area townhouse, pressing play on the first DVD in a 12-DVD set of Jake Conway as he prepares for the chance to win his first major championship in IWF, one can’t help but notice the supreme level of focus that appears in the way he carries himself that one might expect from a technical master of his well-earned reputation.
And while he carries himself less like the cocky egotist you might expect someone who is routinely called by his fans “Best in the World” and more like a well-trained master of the grappling arts who knows intimately what he happens to be capable of there is no doubt that the Chicago native feels truly prepared to, and ready for, deal with the challenge of facing someone everyone believes to be his equal. But while the “Wrestling Machine” is quite obviously mentally ready for the undertaking that he finds himself facing, it is not a ridiculous thing to wonder if a body that has been through as many wars as his has enough left in the tank to deal with a challenge of the sort that he faces this week.
But as he slowly pulls himself up to his feet, Nighthawk pulls a DV camera out and places it down on a nearby table. Clad in a black Aja Kong t-shirt, blue leather pants with Valencia orange piping up and down each leg, and black work boots, the “Wrestling Machine” glowers at the camera and reaches out to drink from a glass of water and take two Tylenol.
Nighthawk: “Vengeance is a powerful motivator. In the right hands, it can be the strongest and most powerful of motivators. It can guide someone far beyond what their own skills might happen to be.
But, and this is the part the man whose title I will take this week appears to be missing out on, it is not the only motivator. Sometimes being disrespected, being told you should aspire to be the protégé to a man who has spent the entirety of his career sullying the thing you love more and more each day, is all the motivation that a man could ever dream of needing.
Now I am no fool, Mr. Conway, and I know that you are very good. There are people in this company, men who are higher on the proverbial card than I am, who would try and lie to you about something like this. But I will not. Rather, I will tell you the truth of the thing.
Furthermore, I hold no false opinions about my own place in this sport. I am no one’s idea of a golden boy. I am not a matinee idol, or a superstar. I have spent years upon years in gyms you would pass right by, Mr. Conway, so that I could earn the nickname you seem to think I bestowed upon myself.
All I have ever wanted, the only goal I’ve ever had, is to be thought of as a craftsman, as a wrestler’s wrestler. That goal is only one more Hangman’s Clutch away, and this week, I get there.
I am no fool about any of this. You will be a test of the type I have not faced here yet. But I also know something else, something simpler:
I can beat you.
I knew I could beat you from the first time I saw you, and this week, I prove it. And the reason for that confidence in myself is simple: I’m sharper than you.
I mean really, Mr. Conway, you’re underestimating me. I’ve been more active than you since you won that title, and faced a higher quality of competition.
And for the past couple of weeks, I’ve been doing it with broken ribs.
Now you might claim yourself to be the best technician in the company.
I respond to this with one sentence, two little words if I’m being honest:
Prove It.
This time, Mr. Conway, I don’t have to look over my shoulder for another man as I climb up a ladder. This time, I don’t have to worry about a fraud passing himself off as a tough guy in the name of Kyle Mason waiting to stick a dagger in my back when the chance presents itself.
This time, Mr. Conway, I get the freedom to wrestle without looking over my shoulder.
This time, Mr. Conway, I do what I do best. And that is tie you into knots.
It’s always been about the wrestling for me, Mr. Conway. I’ve held no great interest in the idea of playing nice with men in suits to get what I want, when I could just beat people to get it. And if we’re being honest, that’s how I got here. I beat people.
And this week, when I step in the ring with you, I am going to beat you. I will make you tap. And I will take your title.
Goodnight Mr. Conway. May sleep give you the courage to go on.”
Well howdy there pardner.