Post by Deleted on Apr 25, 2016 11:38:03 GMT
“Hollywood is hype, New York is talk, Chicago is work."
As Nighthawk sits in the living room of his somewhat ramshackle row house in the Bridgeport neighborhood of Chicago reading pre-printed scouting reports on his other opponents in a lumberjack match and eating a spinach and rainbow-chard omelet we can’t help but see just how alive he seems to be at the possibility of somehow having to figure out a strategy to best attack the crowded field that is being placed in front of him.
But while the Chicago native seems to be looking forward to the challenge of testing the full depth and breadth of his skills in a match where, more so than normal, he has to constantly keep his attention on his multiple opponents one has to wonder if being in a match like this so soon after his return is what he was looking for. Despite that concern, however, no one who has spent any time around the “Wrestling Machine” truly thinks that he is the sort of person who will allow that possibility to color how he approaches this match at all whatsoever, and perhaps might even cause him to focus even further in on what he has to do.
But as the “Man of 1000 Holds” gets up from his chair and walks to drop his plate in the dishwasher the door to his bedroom yawns open and out walks his wife Sin, looking absolutely bewitching in a fire engine-red wrap dress. Walking carefully to the living room she stops and uses her left hand to kindly close her husband’s mouth as he stares at her so clearly in love he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.
(Author’s Note: This conversation took place in Spanish.)
Sin: “I wanted to talk to you before you left to go to the gym. I did not know that this dress was going to get your attention as much as it did, but I am glad that it is. I know all the time that all you hear from me is how worried I am for you, and I do not think that will ever change no matter how much I wish that it would. You are the love of my life, and it is difficult to watch someone you love as much as I love you knowingly put themselves in a position where they could get seriously hurt. But I want you to know something else: I love you, and I know that you can do anything you set your mind to. So go to the gym and make me proud.”
Smiling, the sheer emotional force of her words making anything that he might have to say to her suddenly meaningless and shallow, the “Man of 1000 Holds” leaves his house and walks to get behind the wheel of his car for the trip to the training academy that he owns and runs.
A few hours later….
As Nighthawk finishes doing the last of his drills with the morning class, smiling as he sees his student and assistant trainer Desmond Thomas running the new recruits through their paces just out of view, he notices his newest student Oliver Banks waiting for him by his office, a look of pensive confusion on his face. Walking to his office, the “Wrestling Machine” opens the door and sits down as Ollie takes a seat warily across from him.
Ollie: “I know I came here on Warren Kane’s recommendation, but I don’t think I’ve been doing so badly that you’re going to cut me too. I don’t think I deserve any of that.”
Nighthawk: “For some people, a place like this is as far as they’re ever going to get in the world of wrestling. They step in the doors, and they start training, and they realize they can’t hang. Maybe they don’t have the aptitude to pick up the fundamentals, or maybe they aren’t as athletic or durable as they believed they were. Whatever the reason, though, the result is the same. For some people, stepping in the door of a wrestling school like this one is the only foothold they’re ever going to get inside this sport. And eventually, I have to come into this office with them and tell them that they don’t have it. I have to tell them that unless they want to get hurt, and hurt badly, that they’re going to have to stop here.”
Ollie, anger beginning to smolder in his voice: “I knew it. I knew you were just like Spike Kane. You can’t stand me either. What is it? Is it because you could never take the Invictus title from him? Is that what this is all about?”
Nighthawk, holding his hands up in a “Calm Down” gesture: “You’re not going to stop here, Ollie. I can see it, and if Spike Kane wasn’t as clouded by bitterness and rage as he seems to be, he would have been able to see it too. I’m happy to train you, because you want to learn and you seem to be able to handle everything we’re teaching. The only thing I’m concerned about is that next week, Warren Kane is coming to be a guest instructor. It is an obvious conflict of interest to have you here when he’s training. So for this one week, you’ll be working with other trainers.”
Ollie, a smile on his face as his nerves have ceased: “So you’re not cutting me? I thought that’s what this meeting was about. I guess I still have to get over feeling like everyone’s out to get me after Spike.”
Nighthawk: “I understand. No one’s out to get you here. We’re building wrestlers, and you’re going to stay here. You just can’t train with Warren, ever. That’s the only thing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some boring paperwork to file and you have to get back to training.”
And with that, Ollie Banks leaves with something of a pep in his step as Nighthawk starts initializing paperwork with an audible sigh in his voice.
A few hours later….
As Nighthawk sits on a park bench in Grant Park, watching the city go by in front of him, he slowly smiles and closes his eyes. Clad in a black USA Wrestling hooded sweatshirt, a black long-sleeved University of Michigan t-shirt, black leather pants with orange and blue piping, and black work boots, the “Wrestling Machine” slowly opens his eyes.
Nighthawk: “I remember. Depending on who it comes from, and what causes it to be said, those 2 words can be either powerful, threatening, or sarcastic. Since I returned, to a man, people have wanted to know why it is that I left, and what I hope to achieve by returning. The time for those answers will soon be coming, but I’m not going to address them this week. Not because I don’t particularly have that much to say on the matter, but rather because to address them, to focus my attention on telling you, takes time and attention away from my opponents and I would not show them the disrespect, or give them the satisfaction, of thinking I was not fully focused on them.
And that is not anything I am ever about to do. If I take pride in nothing else, if you can know me for doing nothing else, I am going to show up to Destiny with a fully-prepared scouting report for every man in the ring opposite me. I will have trained, extensively, to counteract everything you could dream of throwing at me in a month full of Sundays.
Every single one of you, to the man, be ready. I will be bringing my best. And my hand will be raised.
Goodnight IWF. May sleep give you the courage to go on.”
As Nighthawk sits in the living room of his somewhat ramshackle row house in the Bridgeport neighborhood of Chicago reading pre-printed scouting reports on his other opponents in a lumberjack match and eating a spinach and rainbow-chard omelet we can’t help but see just how alive he seems to be at the possibility of somehow having to figure out a strategy to best attack the crowded field that is being placed in front of him.
But while the Chicago native seems to be looking forward to the challenge of testing the full depth and breadth of his skills in a match where, more so than normal, he has to constantly keep his attention on his multiple opponents one has to wonder if being in a match like this so soon after his return is what he was looking for. Despite that concern, however, no one who has spent any time around the “Wrestling Machine” truly thinks that he is the sort of person who will allow that possibility to color how he approaches this match at all whatsoever, and perhaps might even cause him to focus even further in on what he has to do.
But as the “Man of 1000 Holds” gets up from his chair and walks to drop his plate in the dishwasher the door to his bedroom yawns open and out walks his wife Sin, looking absolutely bewitching in a fire engine-red wrap dress. Walking carefully to the living room she stops and uses her left hand to kindly close her husband’s mouth as he stares at her so clearly in love he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.
(Author’s Note: This conversation took place in Spanish.)
Sin: “I wanted to talk to you before you left to go to the gym. I did not know that this dress was going to get your attention as much as it did, but I am glad that it is. I know all the time that all you hear from me is how worried I am for you, and I do not think that will ever change no matter how much I wish that it would. You are the love of my life, and it is difficult to watch someone you love as much as I love you knowingly put themselves in a position where they could get seriously hurt. But I want you to know something else: I love you, and I know that you can do anything you set your mind to. So go to the gym and make me proud.”
Smiling, the sheer emotional force of her words making anything that he might have to say to her suddenly meaningless and shallow, the “Man of 1000 Holds” leaves his house and walks to get behind the wheel of his car for the trip to the training academy that he owns and runs.
A few hours later….
As Nighthawk finishes doing the last of his drills with the morning class, smiling as he sees his student and assistant trainer Desmond Thomas running the new recruits through their paces just out of view, he notices his newest student Oliver Banks waiting for him by his office, a look of pensive confusion on his face. Walking to his office, the “Wrestling Machine” opens the door and sits down as Ollie takes a seat warily across from him.
Ollie: “I know I came here on Warren Kane’s recommendation, but I don’t think I’ve been doing so badly that you’re going to cut me too. I don’t think I deserve any of that.”
Nighthawk: “For some people, a place like this is as far as they’re ever going to get in the world of wrestling. They step in the doors, and they start training, and they realize they can’t hang. Maybe they don’t have the aptitude to pick up the fundamentals, or maybe they aren’t as athletic or durable as they believed they were. Whatever the reason, though, the result is the same. For some people, stepping in the door of a wrestling school like this one is the only foothold they’re ever going to get inside this sport. And eventually, I have to come into this office with them and tell them that they don’t have it. I have to tell them that unless they want to get hurt, and hurt badly, that they’re going to have to stop here.”
Ollie, anger beginning to smolder in his voice: “I knew it. I knew you were just like Spike Kane. You can’t stand me either. What is it? Is it because you could never take the Invictus title from him? Is that what this is all about?”
Nighthawk, holding his hands up in a “Calm Down” gesture: “You’re not going to stop here, Ollie. I can see it, and if Spike Kane wasn’t as clouded by bitterness and rage as he seems to be, he would have been able to see it too. I’m happy to train you, because you want to learn and you seem to be able to handle everything we’re teaching. The only thing I’m concerned about is that next week, Warren Kane is coming to be a guest instructor. It is an obvious conflict of interest to have you here when he’s training. So for this one week, you’ll be working with other trainers.”
Ollie, a smile on his face as his nerves have ceased: “So you’re not cutting me? I thought that’s what this meeting was about. I guess I still have to get over feeling like everyone’s out to get me after Spike.”
Nighthawk: “I understand. No one’s out to get you here. We’re building wrestlers, and you’re going to stay here. You just can’t train with Warren, ever. That’s the only thing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some boring paperwork to file and you have to get back to training.”
And with that, Ollie Banks leaves with something of a pep in his step as Nighthawk starts initializing paperwork with an audible sigh in his voice.
A few hours later….
As Nighthawk sits on a park bench in Grant Park, watching the city go by in front of him, he slowly smiles and closes his eyes. Clad in a black USA Wrestling hooded sweatshirt, a black long-sleeved University of Michigan t-shirt, black leather pants with orange and blue piping, and black work boots, the “Wrestling Machine” slowly opens his eyes.
Nighthawk: “I remember. Depending on who it comes from, and what causes it to be said, those 2 words can be either powerful, threatening, or sarcastic. Since I returned, to a man, people have wanted to know why it is that I left, and what I hope to achieve by returning. The time for those answers will soon be coming, but I’m not going to address them this week. Not because I don’t particularly have that much to say on the matter, but rather because to address them, to focus my attention on telling you, takes time and attention away from my opponents and I would not show them the disrespect, or give them the satisfaction, of thinking I was not fully focused on them.
And that is not anything I am ever about to do. If I take pride in nothing else, if you can know me for doing nothing else, I am going to show up to Destiny with a fully-prepared scouting report for every man in the ring opposite me. I will have trained, extensively, to counteract everything you could dream of throwing at me in a month full of Sundays.
Every single one of you, to the man, be ready. I will be bringing my best. And my hand will be raised.
Goodnight IWF. May sleep give you the courage to go on.”
Well howdy there pardner.