Post by bohannon on Dec 13, 2016 14:09:00 GMT -5
The end of the year is a time for reflection and hope. A time to look back at the year that was, and a time to look forward to the new year. For Bohannon and the Tim Stone, it’s been a long year. 2016 has been a year of disappointments, frustrations and missed opportunities. It provided many moments that tested their resolve. Moments that lesser wrestlers would have walked away. In fact, one lesser wrestler did walk away. Bohannon carried that weight with him for months. How could he have so misjudged someone? How could he have put the Mid South Syndicate at risk by trusting a man who could so easily turn tail and run? How could he do that to the proud legacy of the Mid South Syndicate?
[Bohannon is sitting at his desk, a fire roaring in the fireplace. Bohannon is writing, stopping now and again to think about what he writes next.]
The truth of the matter slapped Bohannon in the face back in August. The Mid South Syndicate needed leadership…and he wasn’t providing it. The Mid South Syndicate had always been a collection of the best of the best. There wasn’t a sense that leadership was needed, as there was so much collective experience in the group that what to do was second nature. But if Bohannon looked honestly at it, there was always a leader. THE leader. When there was any doubt, or any question, The Down Hustla, Vince Webb, the Godfather of the Mid South Syndicate was always there. Whether through word or deed, his example would always light the way.
[Bohannon stopped, smiled, and continued to write.]
When Bohannon returned from his third concussion, he realized that if the Mid South Syndicate was to return to the elite level that it had always maintained, it needed leadership. It was time for Bohannon to put on his big boy pants and lead. No more excuses. No more settling for putting on great matches only to come up short. It was time to just win baby. Bohannon and Tim Stone had a little heart to heart. Bohannon had probably never been called ‘mother fucker’ so many times in one day in his life. But the path was clear. Bohannon, for all of his technical skill, lacked that edge. Noah Hanson tried to make that point to Bohannon back in the winter. Hanson tried to beat it into him all Spring. The edge that Bohannon needed was right there in front of him all along. Tim Stone had it. The same nastiness that made Matt McClain the most dangerous man in wrestling was the same thing that Stone brought to the table. Bohannon needed to get nastier. Bohannon needed that killer instinct.
[Bohannon stopped writing and placed the Christmas card into the envelope and sealed it. He placed a stamp at the top. He addressed the camera for the first time.]
Bohannon: “Drake Knight, Ice, the clock is ticking. We want what you have. I could sit here and talk down on you, but what can I really say? You beat the Jasons. I’ve been in the ring with the Jasons more times than I can count. Beating the Jasons is no small feat. So congratulations on your victory. You certainly earned it.”
[Bohannon gets up from his chair and walks over to the fire. He grabs another log and tosses it onto the fire. Sparks fly as the new fuel is added.]
Bohannon: “Drake, you made clear you have no respect for us. That’s fine. I love being doubted. I love being overlooked. The record book is littered with wins over guys who took me lightly. I’d be happy to add your name to that list. But you dropped the ‘c’ word on me? Really? What basis do you have to call me a coward? I’ve been called a lot of things since I arrived here. Let me run them down for you; rookie, minor leaguer, bush leaguer, stupid, dreamer, kiss ass, glutton for punishment, choke artist, underachiever, jinx, has been, mid carder, curtain jerker, nobody, nothing, fluke, joke, stupid idiot, moron, thickheaded, and I could go on. One thing I’ve never been called is a coward. You know why? Cause I show up. Corey Bull inside a cage? I’m in. Corey, Alice Harris, Noah, Rocky Hollywood in a Prison yard fight? I’m in. The Shadow? Sure, I’ll fight him 3 times. Noah Hanson, falls count anywhere? Gladly. 500 pound behemoth in my first match after a concussion? What the hell, let’s do it.”
[Bohannon turns his back to the camera and walks away from it, only to turn back around with a smile on his face.]
Bohannon: “But Drake, somehow I should fear you? Don’t get me wrong, I respect what you can do in that ring. But there is no man on the face of this earth who I fear. You may well kick my ass at Holiday Fear, but I’ll keep coming. I’ll keep getting up and coming towards you until you beat me so badly that I’m physically unable to continue. I have no doubt of that. Have you ever been tested? Have you ever been hurt so badly in that ring where you have to answer that question for yourself? Can I get back up? Do I even want to get back up? I don’t know your history. Maybe you have both been in that situation and the answer was a resounding yes. But the reality of the situation is that I have been down more times than I care to remember. I keep coming. I want what you have. To keep it, you’re going to have to beat me until I can’t get up. You’re bigger and stronger than me, no doubt. But before this fight ends, it’s going to come down to who has more fight in them. You’d better be ready. We are.”
[Bohannon sits back down at his desk. He writes his return address on the envelope. Then he writes ‘Pastor Vincent Webb’.]
Bohannon: “The holidays are all about redemption. We’ll see ya’ll real soon.”
[Bohannon is sitting at his desk, a fire roaring in the fireplace. Bohannon is writing, stopping now and again to think about what he writes next.]
The truth of the matter slapped Bohannon in the face back in August. The Mid South Syndicate needed leadership…and he wasn’t providing it. The Mid South Syndicate had always been a collection of the best of the best. There wasn’t a sense that leadership was needed, as there was so much collective experience in the group that what to do was second nature. But if Bohannon looked honestly at it, there was always a leader. THE leader. When there was any doubt, or any question, The Down Hustla, Vince Webb, the Godfather of the Mid South Syndicate was always there. Whether through word or deed, his example would always light the way.
[Bohannon stopped, smiled, and continued to write.]
When Bohannon returned from his third concussion, he realized that if the Mid South Syndicate was to return to the elite level that it had always maintained, it needed leadership. It was time for Bohannon to put on his big boy pants and lead. No more excuses. No more settling for putting on great matches only to come up short. It was time to just win baby. Bohannon and Tim Stone had a little heart to heart. Bohannon had probably never been called ‘mother fucker’ so many times in one day in his life. But the path was clear. Bohannon, for all of his technical skill, lacked that edge. Noah Hanson tried to make that point to Bohannon back in the winter. Hanson tried to beat it into him all Spring. The edge that Bohannon needed was right there in front of him all along. Tim Stone had it. The same nastiness that made Matt McClain the most dangerous man in wrestling was the same thing that Stone brought to the table. Bohannon needed to get nastier. Bohannon needed that killer instinct.
[Bohannon stopped writing and placed the Christmas card into the envelope and sealed it. He placed a stamp at the top. He addressed the camera for the first time.]
Bohannon: “Drake Knight, Ice, the clock is ticking. We want what you have. I could sit here and talk down on you, but what can I really say? You beat the Jasons. I’ve been in the ring with the Jasons more times than I can count. Beating the Jasons is no small feat. So congratulations on your victory. You certainly earned it.”
[Bohannon gets up from his chair and walks over to the fire. He grabs another log and tosses it onto the fire. Sparks fly as the new fuel is added.]
Bohannon: “Drake, you made clear you have no respect for us. That’s fine. I love being doubted. I love being overlooked. The record book is littered with wins over guys who took me lightly. I’d be happy to add your name to that list. But you dropped the ‘c’ word on me? Really? What basis do you have to call me a coward? I’ve been called a lot of things since I arrived here. Let me run them down for you; rookie, minor leaguer, bush leaguer, stupid, dreamer, kiss ass, glutton for punishment, choke artist, underachiever, jinx, has been, mid carder, curtain jerker, nobody, nothing, fluke, joke, stupid idiot, moron, thickheaded, and I could go on. One thing I’ve never been called is a coward. You know why? Cause I show up. Corey Bull inside a cage? I’m in. Corey, Alice Harris, Noah, Rocky Hollywood in a Prison yard fight? I’m in. The Shadow? Sure, I’ll fight him 3 times. Noah Hanson, falls count anywhere? Gladly. 500 pound behemoth in my first match after a concussion? What the hell, let’s do it.”
[Bohannon turns his back to the camera and walks away from it, only to turn back around with a smile on his face.]
Bohannon: “But Drake, somehow I should fear you? Don’t get me wrong, I respect what you can do in that ring. But there is no man on the face of this earth who I fear. You may well kick my ass at Holiday Fear, but I’ll keep coming. I’ll keep getting up and coming towards you until you beat me so badly that I’m physically unable to continue. I have no doubt of that. Have you ever been tested? Have you ever been hurt so badly in that ring where you have to answer that question for yourself? Can I get back up? Do I even want to get back up? I don’t know your history. Maybe you have both been in that situation and the answer was a resounding yes. But the reality of the situation is that I have been down more times than I care to remember. I keep coming. I want what you have. To keep it, you’re going to have to beat me until I can’t get up. You’re bigger and stronger than me, no doubt. But before this fight ends, it’s going to come down to who has more fight in them. You’d better be ready. We are.”
[Bohannon sits back down at his desk. He writes his return address on the envelope. Then he writes ‘Pastor Vincent Webb’.]
Bohannon: “The holidays are all about redemption. We’ll see ya’ll real soon.”