Post by Nathan Turner on Feb 9, 2019 14:34:38 GMT -5
"My hands are calloused from work. My arms are scarred from the factories, among worse things. My shoulders bear the scars of dozens of surgeries. My chest looks as if I had tried to cross No Man's Land shirtless. Yet, here I am. The phone in my hand, the other line being held by a representative from Union. How did I end up here? I honestly have no fucking idea. Was it a dream of finishing something I had started years ago? Was it me wanting to prove something to myself? To my son? I don't know. Yet, here I stand."
Nathan Turner stood in the kitchen of his two-bedroom apartment. As apartments go, it isn't one to write home about. In fact, it's quite the opposite. The linoleum on the floor is beaten and scratched fromyears of sliding chairs and work boots scraping across them. In the corner sat a trash pile, stacked high with empty beer cans (the ones with a blue ribbon emblazoned across them), along with stacks of paper plates. Though not a rich man's place, it was obvious this particular apartment was well lived in.
Turner glanced around that same kitchen that he had stood in so many times, gripping his cellphone until his knuckles turned white. This was it, he thought, this is his moment to return. After all of the years of his life spent busting his ass in the ring, then all of the years he spent with life busting his ass outside of the ring, this was finally his moment to try and reclaim some of that glory that always slipped through his fingers like water.
"For those of you who don't know who I am, and I'm assuming that's almost all of you, my name is Nathan Turner. I've been in the wrestling business for... Well, shit, let me start over. I started in the wrestling business about nineteen years ago. Seems like a fucking lifetime ago. Started in January of 2000, which I guess is appropriate since that was right after the Y2K scare. Maybe that should've been an omen for me, but I've never been one to pick up on shit like that."
"The reason you probably haven't heard of me is because I've been out of the ring for about ten years now. I started a family, needed a real job to support them, something that had steady income and didn't result in me coming home every night after getting my ass beat. There's only so many times that a wife can help lower her husband into a tub full of epsom salts before she gets tired of it. Hell, there's only so many times it could happen before even the husband gets tired of it. The bruises, the breaks, the pain... And for what? A small chance at glory."
The scurrying of feet behind him made Nathan turn around. There stood Jake, his son, emerged from his bedroom, dressed in his pajamas. The designs on them came from some cartoon that Nathan wasn't sure about, something about a group of dogs, with one as a police office and another as a fireman. It was all too much for the limited imagination someone like Nathan held. But, those pajamas, or his lack of knowledge about them, didn't stop him from taking his son up in a big hug.
"What is it, Jake? What're you doing up at this hour?"
Jake tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. Though it wasn't late, Nathan always made sure his son was in bed on time and got a good night's sleep. He wanted to be like his father, striving the best for his child.
"I heard you talkin'... Who were you talkin' too? Was it momma?"
"Nah, it wasn't your mom. It was actually about a new job."
Jake obviously didn't understand. How could he? At ten years old, Jake would never be able to understand the drive that something like wrestling puts into people... The motivation. The addiction to a chance of glory. Hell, even at his advanced age, Nathan Turner didn't understand, nor did he think he ever could. He just felt the draw of it, something like a moth to a flame. And just as damaging.
"Are you gonna have to go in early or stay late again?"
"No, this is good news buddy. I'm actually getting a new job!"
"A new job?"
"Yeah. It's something I've wanted to do for a long time."
"What is it?"
"I guess in the end, we're all driven towards something. Whether it be the bottle, our jobs, our spouses, our family... There's always something out there tugging on our heartstrings, making us dance like puppets. But I guess that's life. And I guess that's what has driven me back into the ring.
Years ago, I was told my style didn't fit. I was told that I wasn't entertaining enough. I was told that I didn't have the charisma to make it on the big stage. The big promotions left me and the smaller promotions considered me damaged goods. Sure, I could get a gig for twenty-five dollars an appearance, but that wasn't enough.
So now I'm back. Now, I want to show the world that they missed out. I want to try my hand in the Battleground. Those heartstrings I was talking about earlier? Mine have been pulled, and led me back here, back into the ring. And this time? This time, I will make damn sure that I'll get to show the world what I'm capable of."