Post by Deleted on Mar 18, 2017 22:59:24 GMT
“The biggest competition is myself. I am not looking to follow others or pull them down. I'm planning to test my own boundaries.”
As Nighthawk throws his USA Wrestling gym-bag and weathered dark-blue rolling suitcase into the back seat of his Dodge Charger as he prepares to drive to Columbia where he is going to be engaged in battle with Dorian Hawkhurst in order to figure out who will be declared the #1 contender one can’t help but see the peace and comfort in his eyes at again being on the road, the apex of those travels being when he arrives at the Sprint Center in Columbia to battle for yet another shot at the championship gold which has eluded him throughout his IWF career.
While some of those evasions may have been painful wars of attrition, and others the kinds of beatings one would believe a veteran of his standing should no longer have to place himself in a position to take, the cold hard fact remains that the Chicagoan has not yet achieved the success that someone with his renowned technical skill has been expected to.
Grabbing his car keys from off a sterling silver hook just on the inside of the door the “Wrestling Machine” takes one deep calming breath and walks outside and almost stampedes into his wife Sin who is smiling noticeably, happy to see her beloved back in his natural environment of being on the road again.
Looking gorgeous in a tangerine-colored Isabel Toledo cocktail dress with a plunging neckline that is doing a heroic job of holding her bountiful cleavage in, a dark-blue Balenciaga clutch, and black high-heeled shoes, she smiles at her husband who is once again gob smacked by her stunning beauty.
(Author’s Note: This conversation took place in Spanish.)
Sin: “You know it’s weird. Every time you leave for these long road trips, I want to tell you to stay. I want you home with me, where all you ever have to do is do paperwork and occasionally train a few students, but seeing how stir-crazy you get when you are here with me, I want you to be happy. And as much as it kills me, you being out on the road makes you happy.”
Nighthawk, ashamed: “It’s not you. I hope you know, and understand, that it is not you. However, I am not done yet. There might be a day when I am finished, when I step in the ring and just get old overnight. However, as long as that day is not today, I am going to keep trying. And I do treasure being home. I really do. However, this, this is all that I have wanted to do since I was 15. And as long as I can still stand, and I can still do it at a level worthy of the expectations I’ve set for myself, I am going to keep trying.”
Sin, grabbing her husband by the jawbone and pulling him close to her: “Do you think I ever thought, for a second, that your restlessness was about me? I know who you are, Tristan, and I have known that this is what you have always wanted to do. You are a warrior, honey, and you always have been. If I took that away from you, if I made you stay home with me, it might make me happy. However, it would kill you. So please, go on the road. Entertain every fan you can, in every town you can. Show them who you are. Show them why you are as good as everyone knows you to be. Do not worry about me. I’ll be fine while you’re gone.”
Nighthawk, smiling openly: “I love you.”
Sin, smiling back at her husband: “Good. Because you should love me.”
Hugging and kissing his wife, Nighthawk smiles and grabs his keys to head off to Columbia.
>>>>>>>>>>>>
As Nighthawk parks himself in a guest-only parking space at a local Columbia hotel to get some rest before dealing with all of his associated media obligations for Monday Night Sacrifice, his mind clearly on figuring out the best way to deal with the pure size and strength of the man opposite him, one can’t help but think that someone as well-renowned for his savvy and brainpower inside the ring has already devised multiple lines of attack that he might be able to rely upon when dealing with an opponent who can so easily overpower him.
But while this is clearly true that there might be no person currently on the IWF roster who is as capable of coming up with a multi-faceted game plan the real question that is hanging over this match like the proverbial sword of Damocles is whether or not the Chicagoan will be able to withstand the storm that he is likely to be forced to walk through, a fact that may send a chill through the hearts of all of those who consider themselves to be supporters of his.
Stepping out of his rental car to walk into the hotel to check in, a quick smile popping off his face as the warmth of the Columbia weather catches his attention, Nighthawk is suddenly set upon by all manner of fans of all different ages, as the word of where he is staying appears to have gotten out.
Smiling the vastly popular “Wrestling Machine” noticeably pushes his thoughts of game plan and strategy to the back burner and begins signing autographs and t-shirts for his adoring public, until his ice-blue eyes go slack as he appears to be having a momentary flashback to that long-ago night in White Plains where he was assaulted by the House of Howlett.
Seeing it instantly the crowd slows down their requests and guides Nighthawk towards a back wall just out of the way to the main entrance of the hotel, as it is now abundantly clear that his views of them as family is reciprocated. Smiling, his flashback now clearly gone, Nighthawk continues to sign for the crowd.
>>>>>>>>>>
As Nighthawk slips on a pair of blood-red headphones over his ear at a local Columbia radio station where he is fulfilling some of his media obligations for this week’s Sacrifice, one cannot help but notice a member of the IWF Media Relations staff hanging over his left shoulder as inconspicuously as she might want.
His ice-blue eyes narrowing in a way not dissimilar to that of a gunfighter staring down a hated opponent Nighthawk simply gestures with his head in the direction of outside, his face indicating disgust at the mere idea that he might be undisciplined enough to require any sort of “handling”. Smiling and leaning forward in his chair Nighthawk prepares to answer questions.
DJ #1, a squatty fireplug of a man who appears to have been born in his current outfit of a loose-fitting tropical shirt known as a guayabera and a pair of Hawaiian shorts: “And you are listening live to ESPN 100.5 FM and 1580 AM. We are here with IWF superstar Nighthawk. On Monday, they will be at the Mizzou Arena where you will be facing Dorian Hawkhurst in a mandatory to determine who will be the next challenger to the current Invictus Champion. How do you feel, firstly, about coming to Columbia and about facing someone who outweighs you in excess of 100 pounds?”
Nighthawk, smiling as he has clearly given this question a lot of thought: “Firstly, I always love competing in the state of Missouri. It is a great wrestling state, and it always has been. Iowa, and Pennsylvania overshadow it, and it should not be. As far as to your question about Dorian Hawkhurst, I will answer it this way. I made a promise when I signed my IWF contract, and again when I renewed it. Any opponent you put in front of me, no matter how big or small, I will do my best to find a way to defeat them. There are men in this company, our current Imperial Champion being perhaps at the very top of this list, which will look for ways to avoid getting in the ring with those they consider a threat. I will not be that person. I will never be that person.”
DJ #2, a lean and angular sort who puts any viewers of him in the mind of an angry scarecrow and whose words drip with absolute scorn: “Let’s address the elephant in the room, Tristan. For most of your IWF career, you have been defined as the ‘guy who can’t win the big one’. Every single major championship opportunity you have had you lost. You faced Alex Jones 3 times, and lost every single one. Your current tag team partner, Andrew Jacobsen, has beaten you every time he has faced you as well. My question then is this: Why should the fans who show up to the Mizzou Arena think, that if you are even able to defeat Dorian Hawkhurst, that your history will be any different when you face the Invictus Champion at High Stakes?”
Nighthawk, leaning forward until his elbows touch the table: “Let me answer that question as frankly as I can. Yes, it is true that I have lost just about every big match I have had in IWF. Yes, it is true that I have lost to Alex Jones and Andrew Jacobsen on multiple occasions. However, to answer your question in the manner that you asked it, I will say this. Ask those men I lost to if they think I cannot beat anyone in front of me. Any Given Sunday is a platitude, but it is one with a kernel of truth in it. When I step in the ring, on any given day, I can beat anyone in the world. And if I get the chance, I will prove it.”
DJ #1: “That’s the ‘Wrestling Machine’ Nighthawk. See him Monday night at the Mizzou Arena. Tickets are still available. Back, talking about the hiring of Cuonzo Martin right after this on ESPN 100.5 FM and 1580 AM.”
>>>>>>>>>>>>
As Nighthawk sits on a park bench in the middle of the Francis Quadrangle on the campus of the University of Missouri, he slowly closes his eyes. Clad in a white USA Wrestling hooded pullover sweatshirt, a black Ben Askren t-shirt, black leather pants with orange and old gold piping up and down each leg, and black work boots, the “Wrestling Machine” slowly opens his eyes and steeples his hands in front of his face.
Nighthawk: “Everyone has told me I can’t do it. To a man, every single person I’ve seen while I’ve been in Columbia has respected me for trying but they’ve told me that my opponent this week is too big and too strong for me to be able to beat. They have told me that even trying, even showing up to the ring to deal with someone like this is dangerous. Some have told me that if I step into the ring with this person, I may be hurt so severely that my career might end for all practical purposes in the ring that night.
However, when I step in the ring with Dorian Hawkhurst, the fear and the danger inherent in facing him means next to nothing. Because all my professional life, from towns as big as Tokyo to ones as small as Twist, Arkansas, this has been the common refrain. Moreover, town in and town out, I did to all of those bigger men what I am about to do to you, Dorian Hawkhurst. I beat them, and you are going to be no exception.
Now I am no fool. I fully know that when we have the weigh-ins the morning of the show that are required by the Missouri State Athletic Commission, you will outweigh me by at, a bare minimum, 125 pounds. And if this is a sport where size and strength mattered more than technique, I would lose. I would not do as poorly as you might expect, because I am stronger than I am given credit for, but I still would lose.
But that is not the case. This is wrestling, where power can, and has fallen, prostrate at the feet of superior technique more times than I care to count. And this week, Mr. Hawkhurst, is going to be no exception.
Now I know what your supporters and fans are likely to be telling you at this very moment. They are saying that I’m too small to hurt you, that all you have to do is hit me with one hard blow on the proverbial button and that, as they say, will be that. And again on this point, they may be correct. Hardest shot for hardest shot, I may not be as hard a hitter as you.
But again, this admission misses the point. We are not boxing, or getting ourselves into a shoot fight, wherein power is the great equalizer. This is wrestling. And in wrestling, I don’t have to be stronger than you. I just have to keep your shoulders to the mat for three seconds, or make you submit to a hold of my creation.
And Dorian I can make you tap. You’re not big enough that any hold is inapplicable. I can hold your shoulders to the mat. You’re not so strong that any pinning combination any of the great masters I studied under would be ineffective. I don’t care if it takes me 30 seconds, or if it takes me all night long, but I will find your weak spot. I will not stop until your shoulders are on the mat, or you are submitting to one of my holds.
I want you to understand that. Ever since the moment this match was signed, I’ve been studying every match you’ve had. Eventually, because I’m good at this, I will do my job and it will be your resolve that breaks.
And when I’m done, when you hear my theme song play over the loudspeakers instead of yours, you will learn what all of those other people before you have learned. It is not the size of your biceps, or how much weight you can hoist, that matters. It matters how well you can think, how well you can solve the problems in front of you. And I will solve you, no matter how long it takes.
Goodnight Dorian. May sleep give you the courage to go on.”
As Nighthawk throws his USA Wrestling gym-bag and weathered dark-blue rolling suitcase into the back seat of his Dodge Charger as he prepares to drive to Columbia where he is going to be engaged in battle with Dorian Hawkhurst in order to figure out who will be declared the #1 contender one can’t help but see the peace and comfort in his eyes at again being on the road, the apex of those travels being when he arrives at the Sprint Center in Columbia to battle for yet another shot at the championship gold which has eluded him throughout his IWF career.
While some of those evasions may have been painful wars of attrition, and others the kinds of beatings one would believe a veteran of his standing should no longer have to place himself in a position to take, the cold hard fact remains that the Chicagoan has not yet achieved the success that someone with his renowned technical skill has been expected to.
Grabbing his car keys from off a sterling silver hook just on the inside of the door the “Wrestling Machine” takes one deep calming breath and walks outside and almost stampedes into his wife Sin who is smiling noticeably, happy to see her beloved back in his natural environment of being on the road again.
Looking gorgeous in a tangerine-colored Isabel Toledo cocktail dress with a plunging neckline that is doing a heroic job of holding her bountiful cleavage in, a dark-blue Balenciaga clutch, and black high-heeled shoes, she smiles at her husband who is once again gob smacked by her stunning beauty.
(Author’s Note: This conversation took place in Spanish.)
Sin: “You know it’s weird. Every time you leave for these long road trips, I want to tell you to stay. I want you home with me, where all you ever have to do is do paperwork and occasionally train a few students, but seeing how stir-crazy you get when you are here with me, I want you to be happy. And as much as it kills me, you being out on the road makes you happy.”
Nighthawk, ashamed: “It’s not you. I hope you know, and understand, that it is not you. However, I am not done yet. There might be a day when I am finished, when I step in the ring and just get old overnight. However, as long as that day is not today, I am going to keep trying. And I do treasure being home. I really do. However, this, this is all that I have wanted to do since I was 15. And as long as I can still stand, and I can still do it at a level worthy of the expectations I’ve set for myself, I am going to keep trying.”
Sin, grabbing her husband by the jawbone and pulling him close to her: “Do you think I ever thought, for a second, that your restlessness was about me? I know who you are, Tristan, and I have known that this is what you have always wanted to do. You are a warrior, honey, and you always have been. If I took that away from you, if I made you stay home with me, it might make me happy. However, it would kill you. So please, go on the road. Entertain every fan you can, in every town you can. Show them who you are. Show them why you are as good as everyone knows you to be. Do not worry about me. I’ll be fine while you’re gone.”
Nighthawk, smiling openly: “I love you.”
Sin, smiling back at her husband: “Good. Because you should love me.”
Hugging and kissing his wife, Nighthawk smiles and grabs his keys to head off to Columbia.
>>>>>>>>>>>>
As Nighthawk parks himself in a guest-only parking space at a local Columbia hotel to get some rest before dealing with all of his associated media obligations for Monday Night Sacrifice, his mind clearly on figuring out the best way to deal with the pure size and strength of the man opposite him, one can’t help but think that someone as well-renowned for his savvy and brainpower inside the ring has already devised multiple lines of attack that he might be able to rely upon when dealing with an opponent who can so easily overpower him.
But while this is clearly true that there might be no person currently on the IWF roster who is as capable of coming up with a multi-faceted game plan the real question that is hanging over this match like the proverbial sword of Damocles is whether or not the Chicagoan will be able to withstand the storm that he is likely to be forced to walk through, a fact that may send a chill through the hearts of all of those who consider themselves to be supporters of his.
Stepping out of his rental car to walk into the hotel to check in, a quick smile popping off his face as the warmth of the Columbia weather catches his attention, Nighthawk is suddenly set upon by all manner of fans of all different ages, as the word of where he is staying appears to have gotten out.
Smiling the vastly popular “Wrestling Machine” noticeably pushes his thoughts of game plan and strategy to the back burner and begins signing autographs and t-shirts for his adoring public, until his ice-blue eyes go slack as he appears to be having a momentary flashback to that long-ago night in White Plains where he was assaulted by the House of Howlett.
Seeing it instantly the crowd slows down their requests and guides Nighthawk towards a back wall just out of the way to the main entrance of the hotel, as it is now abundantly clear that his views of them as family is reciprocated. Smiling, his flashback now clearly gone, Nighthawk continues to sign for the crowd.
>>>>>>>>>>
As Nighthawk slips on a pair of blood-red headphones over his ear at a local Columbia radio station where he is fulfilling some of his media obligations for this week’s Sacrifice, one cannot help but notice a member of the IWF Media Relations staff hanging over his left shoulder as inconspicuously as she might want.
His ice-blue eyes narrowing in a way not dissimilar to that of a gunfighter staring down a hated opponent Nighthawk simply gestures with his head in the direction of outside, his face indicating disgust at the mere idea that he might be undisciplined enough to require any sort of “handling”. Smiling and leaning forward in his chair Nighthawk prepares to answer questions.
DJ #1, a squatty fireplug of a man who appears to have been born in his current outfit of a loose-fitting tropical shirt known as a guayabera and a pair of Hawaiian shorts: “And you are listening live to ESPN 100.5 FM and 1580 AM. We are here with IWF superstar Nighthawk. On Monday, they will be at the Mizzou Arena where you will be facing Dorian Hawkhurst in a mandatory to determine who will be the next challenger to the current Invictus Champion. How do you feel, firstly, about coming to Columbia and about facing someone who outweighs you in excess of 100 pounds?”
Nighthawk, smiling as he has clearly given this question a lot of thought: “Firstly, I always love competing in the state of Missouri. It is a great wrestling state, and it always has been. Iowa, and Pennsylvania overshadow it, and it should not be. As far as to your question about Dorian Hawkhurst, I will answer it this way. I made a promise when I signed my IWF contract, and again when I renewed it. Any opponent you put in front of me, no matter how big or small, I will do my best to find a way to defeat them. There are men in this company, our current Imperial Champion being perhaps at the very top of this list, which will look for ways to avoid getting in the ring with those they consider a threat. I will not be that person. I will never be that person.”
DJ #2, a lean and angular sort who puts any viewers of him in the mind of an angry scarecrow and whose words drip with absolute scorn: “Let’s address the elephant in the room, Tristan. For most of your IWF career, you have been defined as the ‘guy who can’t win the big one’. Every single major championship opportunity you have had you lost. You faced Alex Jones 3 times, and lost every single one. Your current tag team partner, Andrew Jacobsen, has beaten you every time he has faced you as well. My question then is this: Why should the fans who show up to the Mizzou Arena think, that if you are even able to defeat Dorian Hawkhurst, that your history will be any different when you face the Invictus Champion at High Stakes?”
Nighthawk, leaning forward until his elbows touch the table: “Let me answer that question as frankly as I can. Yes, it is true that I have lost just about every big match I have had in IWF. Yes, it is true that I have lost to Alex Jones and Andrew Jacobsen on multiple occasions. However, to answer your question in the manner that you asked it, I will say this. Ask those men I lost to if they think I cannot beat anyone in front of me. Any Given Sunday is a platitude, but it is one with a kernel of truth in it. When I step in the ring, on any given day, I can beat anyone in the world. And if I get the chance, I will prove it.”
DJ #1: “That’s the ‘Wrestling Machine’ Nighthawk. See him Monday night at the Mizzou Arena. Tickets are still available. Back, talking about the hiring of Cuonzo Martin right after this on ESPN 100.5 FM and 1580 AM.”
>>>>>>>>>>>>
As Nighthawk sits on a park bench in the middle of the Francis Quadrangle on the campus of the University of Missouri, he slowly closes his eyes. Clad in a white USA Wrestling hooded pullover sweatshirt, a black Ben Askren t-shirt, black leather pants with orange and old gold piping up and down each leg, and black work boots, the “Wrestling Machine” slowly opens his eyes and steeples his hands in front of his face.
Nighthawk: “Everyone has told me I can’t do it. To a man, every single person I’ve seen while I’ve been in Columbia has respected me for trying but they’ve told me that my opponent this week is too big and too strong for me to be able to beat. They have told me that even trying, even showing up to the ring to deal with someone like this is dangerous. Some have told me that if I step into the ring with this person, I may be hurt so severely that my career might end for all practical purposes in the ring that night.
However, when I step in the ring with Dorian Hawkhurst, the fear and the danger inherent in facing him means next to nothing. Because all my professional life, from towns as big as Tokyo to ones as small as Twist, Arkansas, this has been the common refrain. Moreover, town in and town out, I did to all of those bigger men what I am about to do to you, Dorian Hawkhurst. I beat them, and you are going to be no exception.
Now I am no fool. I fully know that when we have the weigh-ins the morning of the show that are required by the Missouri State Athletic Commission, you will outweigh me by at, a bare minimum, 125 pounds. And if this is a sport where size and strength mattered more than technique, I would lose. I would not do as poorly as you might expect, because I am stronger than I am given credit for, but I still would lose.
But that is not the case. This is wrestling, where power can, and has fallen, prostrate at the feet of superior technique more times than I care to count. And this week, Mr. Hawkhurst, is going to be no exception.
Now I know what your supporters and fans are likely to be telling you at this very moment. They are saying that I’m too small to hurt you, that all you have to do is hit me with one hard blow on the proverbial button and that, as they say, will be that. And again on this point, they may be correct. Hardest shot for hardest shot, I may not be as hard a hitter as you.
But again, this admission misses the point. We are not boxing, or getting ourselves into a shoot fight, wherein power is the great equalizer. This is wrestling. And in wrestling, I don’t have to be stronger than you. I just have to keep your shoulders to the mat for three seconds, or make you submit to a hold of my creation.
And Dorian I can make you tap. You’re not big enough that any hold is inapplicable. I can hold your shoulders to the mat. You’re not so strong that any pinning combination any of the great masters I studied under would be ineffective. I don’t care if it takes me 30 seconds, or if it takes me all night long, but I will find your weak spot. I will not stop until your shoulders are on the mat, or you are submitting to one of my holds.
I want you to understand that. Ever since the moment this match was signed, I’ve been studying every match you’ve had. Eventually, because I’m good at this, I will do my job and it will be your resolve that breaks.
And when I’m done, when you hear my theme song play over the loudspeakers instead of yours, you will learn what all of those other people before you have learned. It is not the size of your biceps, or how much weight you can hoist, that matters. It matters how well you can think, how well you can solve the problems in front of you. And I will solve you, no matter how long it takes.
Goodnight Dorian. May sleep give you the courage to go on.”
Well howdy there pardner.