Post by 'Primetime' Rhyan Matthews on Apr 10, 2018 21:22:22 GMT -5
OOC:- Good luck, Finn. Looking forward to reading yours.
Rhyan Matthews : Aged 18.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, looking around his room, the priceless memories we shared evoked in my head.
“Dearest Chris, i’m having trouble accepting you’re gone. I can’t understand why someone would purposely gun you down. But i can understand that god would’ve wanted you close to him. You were a true beacon of goodness. You gave others hope. You put others before yourself. You were selfless, Chris. And in my own special way, i love you and miss you. And those were words i never said to you whilst you were alive. And i regret that. Should’ve told you each and every day. I will settle the score, Chris. I will make the man that killed you, suffer. I miss you. How could you touch so many lives, and just leave us. Come home.”
Me and Rhyan’s father were stood at the top of the stairs, listening to Rhyan in his brother’s room, talking to him. Head in his hands, tears streaming down his reddened face. I wanted to console him, but we both knew it would’ve have helped. He’s personally holding himself responsible for his brother’s death. I’m mourning the death of my oldest son, but i should be thankful. Thankful that Rhyan is still here to breathe the air that Chris can’t.
“Terry, i should go and console him.” I gently whispered to Terry, my husband. He shook his head.
“No Margaret, nothing you say or do will help him now. He’s hurting more than all of us. Chris was Rhyan’s idol. And he’s blaming himself, we need to give him the space to grieve and understand Chris isn’t walking back through that door.” Uttering those words shattered my wife’s hard exterior, as she dropped to her knees, bursting into tears. Dropping to my knees myself, i tried to comfort her. But it was useless, we both were inconsolable.
Sam, the middle brother. Stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at his parents. Shaking his head, as he turns on his heels and walks out the front door, slamming it in behind him.
A few days later.
“Rhyan, sweetheart, you need to come down and eat something. Please?” Nothing i could do or say, would get him out of his brother’s room.
“Not hungry” He muttered in between sobs.
“Please sweetheart, you need to get back to your old routine. Do you think your brother would want you wallowing in your own self pity.” Once those words left my mouth, i knew what a mistake i made.
Hearing my mother utter those words, lit a fire in my belly and i sprung up on the bed and faced her.. “Self pity? MY FUCKING BROTHER IS DEAD! I watched as some bastard walked up to him, put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. I held his bloody and lifeless body. He was the only one ever there for me. You and Dad didn’t give a shit when i was being bullied. No, all you cared about was working and having a social life. I confided in Chris, he helped me. The man i am today, is because of my brother. Not you, not Dad and not Sam. I’d give anything for you three to swap places with him.” I could hear myself spitting this vitriol towards my mother. But i was blinded by my anger to even care about it. I know my mom was hurting, and she was grieving in a way i wasn’t. She lost a son, her first born. But still, i was there. I had his blood all over me. Me and Chris had a bond, like none before. A few years separated us, but we were best friends, as well as brothers.
I could see my father thundering up the stairs, and he headed in my direction. Hearing everything i said, obviously made him livid at me. But i didn’t care. Right now, i hated them.
“No, Terry.” My mom stood in the doorway, blocking my father and placing a hand on his chest.
“The boy is hurting. He doesn’t mean anything. It’s the anger talking. Let’s go back down and leave him be.” My father was foaming at the mouth, outraged that i dared speak to the woman who gave me life. But my mom had convinced him, as he turned his back and began walking away from us.
“Rhyan, i’m sorry you feel that way. Just know we’ve always loved you, always will. When you’re ready to eat and talk, we’ll be waiting.” She turned her back on me, closing the door behind her. Part of me wanted to get up and give her a hug. But i was still consumed by an almighty anger that i’ve never felt before.
“I need you now, more than ever. Help me.” Cradling his brothers favorite hoodie, as his smell begins to evaporate from it.
Shoot
“Last week at #Lights Out 21, it wasn’t meant to be. I gave Danny Colt all i had, but it wasn’t enough. He walked out victorious and rightly so. Danny, congratulations and good luck in your Championship match. It wasn’t my time to shine, but maybe that’ll happen at #Lights Out 22? You’re good Danny, but my opponent this time is slightly better. Already a World Champion in WWH. And he’s only been in this business less than you, Danny. So the magnitude of the situation i’m facing is huge, no doubt about that. And despite losing to Danny. Despite being disappointed, i’ve decided to learn from that lesson to help me against Finn Whelan.”
Stopping talking for a few seconds, as Rhyan unleashes a flurry of hits to a punching bag, rocking it back on it’s chain, as the sweat runs down his brow.
“Finn Whelan, you’re feeling confident heading into our bout. And you’ve got every reason to do so. But don’t underestimate me. You’re a World Champion in a big, establish federation. That’s something not to be scoffed at. But despite that, you’re still learning the ropes as well in this business. Despite your success thus far, there’s chinks in your armour. And i’m going to study your matches and attempt to find them. I’ve got huge respect for what you’ve achieved, Finn. It’s unprecedented that someone has risen so high, so quickly. But with those highs, comes the lows. And for you a defeat to me, would be a low. And in all probability the likelihood of me coming out victorious, is slim. I’ve got 30% chance at best. But don’t let this fool you into thinking, i’ve lost this before i step inside that ring. I haven’t.”
Taking a few moments, Rhyan once again unleashes a torrent of hits, before unleashing one hell of a kick, rocking the bag on it’s hinges.
“Despite my small probability of winning, you’ll be getting my best. You’ll be getting me at 150%. I’m training harder and longer for this. I’m putting my body through the wringer for this. Finn, at #Lights Out 22, i’ve got absolutely nothing to lose. You’re the hot favorite and rightly so. But sometimes the underdog rises to the occasion. Sometimes the least likely, triumphants. And if you do win, Finn. I’ll be walking out that ring with my head held high. Because if i do lose, i know i left it all in that ring. And you will know you’ve been in a fight. Finn, i might have a huge amount of respect for you. And i’m in awe of what you’ve accomplished, but don’t let that make you think you’ve got this easy. You haven’t. You’ve got a young man, willing to right the wrongs of his first competitive match. Under no circumstances do i want to be 0-2 after #Lights Out 22.”
Taking of his gloves, Rhyan throws them to the floor as he walks away and grabs a bottle of water. Taking a couple of mouthfuls, before he focuses all his attention back to #Lights Out 22.
“Finn, i’m truly looking forward to our match. I’m looking forward to going up against a World Champion. I’m looking forward to giving you my all and leaving it in that ring. And no matter the outcome, i’ll offer you my hand in respect. It’s going to be a pleasure, Finn. And i’m eagerly anticipating it. And ultimately the winner won’t be either of us, it’ll be those fans cramming themselves into the venue. They’re going to witness one hell of a match. See you soon, Finn. The Albert Hall awaits us. See me shine!!!
Post by Finn Whelan on Apr 14, 2018 10:26:20 GMT -5
STORIES OF THE PAST “We shall heal our wounds, collect our dead and continue fighting.” MAO ZEDONG
•••••
14 APRIL 2018 // DELTA AIRLINES FLIGHT 2764 TO MOSCOW FROM NYC
The flight had taken off at 8:38 P.M. with some intent to land ten hours after it’d left the runway. Sitting at the bulkhead (because any other place would have been shit to sit) was Finn Whelan. Most of the people on the plane were either asleep or drifting off to that point anyway. Next to him was Elena DeDraca-Riddle, his sister, who’d, in her sleep, set her head on his shoulder. He couldn’t sleep. Too much was happening, too much needed to be done. His mind was in fourteen places at once.
His computer sat on his tray, connected to the flight’s in-house Wi-Fi. He had his e-mail up, and a new message started. He inhaled slowly through his nose, and then, set his fingers against the keys.
TO: rmatthewsbookings@gmail.com FROM: Me SUB: Stories of the Past
Rhyan,
We’re not that different, you and I.
When I started in this career, I had confidence in myself. I thought, “With whom I trained, I should be at the top in no time.” My trainer had been a multi-time champion and veteran, and the school I’d trained at told me I excelled. I should've been immediately granted praise. But that’s not what happened. In fact, I was humbled quickly by someone who’d been in the sport six months longer than I. I’d mouthed off to him with some bullshit that I was going to be the best thing on the planet.
He promptly -- and figuratively -- took my head and shoved it up my own ass.
We all have delusions of grandeur. No one wants to be seen as weak or unfit for the task at hand. We all want to be seen at our best. But we have to accept that losses are going to come.
We have to learn from them. I could sit and harp on about my failures, but the only point that is relevant here is that I took every single one of those failures and I capitalized. After have the opportunity placed in front of you and you crash and burn despite giving it your all, the very last thing you want to do is allow it to tarnish who you are.
He paused in his writing, staring at the text, trying to deduce if that was a decent intro. He supposed it was.
I think we can safely say that Anton Chase thought I was going to be off my game. I’d taken a show off to recuperate, to see what lay in front of me, and to realize my own shortcomings. I wanted to make sure that people saw that I wasn’t going to half-ass it because of my inability to succeed one time. Nah. You take it. You learn from it.
You’re a positive cat, Rhyan, and I like that. But I don’t think it’s enough. No. I know that it’s not enough.
If you wanted to learn something in this, then take this: if you don’t want it badly enough, you’re never going to succeed. If you’re not willing to look past the file folder with information, and truly learn who you face, you’re never going to go far. It’s the thing that everyone does with me; they don’t look past the lanky kid who wears a lot of black, or past a piece of paper with my details on it. In the end, that sheet of paper doesn’t tell you that I’ll plant your face in the fucking floor the second you’re laying face down on it.
I’m not Danny Colt. I’m not going to treat you with kid gloves. I’m not going to say, “Hey, you love wrestling; I like that!” We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t. But it’s not just the love of wrestling that should only drive you. It’s the will to survive.
Do you have one?
It was a question he asked himself, every time he got into that ring. Can you do it? His last title defense was a rematch against the former champion, and his leg had been worn down. But he still got up. He still fought. He retained.
When we face off at LO #22, we’re in London. Not only are we both getting exposure in all of these foreign countries, but we’re getting the opportunity to visit places we’ve never been. Italy, India, Bulgaria, these are places that rarely see wrestling its best form. And that’s what Union offers -- it’s a place where the best have the opportunity to face one another. In places we know, and places we don’t.
England’s a pretty special piece of land for me -- London even more so. Every summer, I’d spend a majority of my time there because my parents never quite wanted me at home. They pushed me off on my aunt, who was completely never meant to be a parent and basically let me do whatever the hell I wanted. I don’t know if it was an attempt to get me to like her, but a fifteen-year-old that ran the streets probably should have been watched more.
My sister was the only person who understood what it was like to be mismanaged and misused by family. She never had one, but her caretakers treated her like shit too. We ran London’s streets with nary a care; petty theft and chaos were our usual daily outings. Guess you could say we were pretty tyrannical in our youth, but what teenager isn’t in their own way?
Now we’re both World Champions in the same company.
Elena sniffed in her sleep, lifting her hand and rubbing at her nose. The woman had fearlessly demanded that she come with him on this trip, despite his insistence that she did not. It didn’t matter. She was too stubborn, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Like him.
This is what I meant when I said we were similar, Matthews. We were brought up in a world where people treated us like shit, and while you went one route, proving yourself as a physical threat, I had a little longer dash of time where I did nothing with myself because I was too pissed to give a damn. When I was given the opportunity to train, I never took it seriously. Not at first.
Then I started realizing that I was good at it. Maybe it’s the Irish in me. Maybe it’s the fact that I spent nearly eight years of my life fighting for survival. Whatever it was, I was good. I wasn’t an ignorant fool, and promoting myself in front of people wasn’t an issue for me as much as my peers. They told me I was charismatic. They told me I’d go far.
I wonder how much of it they repeat to every student. It isn’t until you jump into the competitive circuit with people of all walks and classes. Of all skills. Eventually, you start learning that strengths can be turned into weaknesses, they can be targeted. When you can’t rely on your strengths, you become a sitting duck.
That’s my goal. You may be strong -- you showed that against Colt -- and you might be fast, but this career path is truly the definition of a “dog-eat-dog world”. There is always someone who is stronger, faster, more talented than the other. There is always someone who rises above the other. In our case, it’ll be me -- I’d say sorry if I felt bad, but you know how it goes.
He paused again. It wasn’t his goal to tear the kid a new one. Not this time. But there was always a point to be made. A goal in mind. A lesson that could be learned from stories of the past.
But I learned. I learned that I needed to be faster. I learned that I don’t have the strength I wish I did. But that’s the thing. I figured out how to innovate, to break down strengths and capitalize. It doesn’t matter if you’re a multi-time champion or a man just out of school, I’ll treat it the same way I treat every match. My fighting style is fast, and because of that lack of strength, I’ve practiced and perfected attacks that deal with head trauma.
That’s how you grow. That’s how you push. So, Rhyan, when we face each other in London, I want you to know I’m going to push you. I’m going to force you to meet me with every blow that comes across. You’ll get me down, I’m sure. Everyone does. But it’s what you do when you get back up that matters. The hardest lesson to learn, though, is when to decide for yourself that enough is enough.
