"Hurdles"

[Deleted]

7/9/23

With the Rise World Championship laid out horizontally across my lap and my head drooping forward, adrenaline and raw emotion had their jabs at one another as they attempted to reach the forefront of how I was feeling.

Adilene, I did it. I won the-

My finger hovered just over the keyboard as I felt the lump in my throat inflate, seemingly trying to burst forward and out in xenomorph fashion. I couldn’t tap another letter nor could I bring myself to hit the send button. Outside of meeting up to hand off the kids to one another in what had been strictly transactional thus far, there was nothing. Most times, I’d only seen her through a windshield. There was no friendly smile, no fingers moving to roll down our respective driver’s side windows. Nothing.

After finally forcing the lump down, I transitioned towards the backspace only to be cut off by a vibration and a notification at the top of the screen, being greeted by HER.

That was incredible! Match of the year! Let’s meet later after the group heads off!

Her name was Mia Hill.

---

"I'm reunited with, uh, all of my vices, I can't

I can't deny it, I still got fuckin' problems, I try

I try to fight it, it don't, ain't try to hide it, go 'head

Loc be my lady, I'm up a couple thousand

Playin' roulette like Bobby Boucher

Wa-Wa-Wa-Water on a Tuesday for all this D'Ussé

I surely feel like I'm drunk

I probably drink the Kool-Aid, that shit be packin' a punch

It's like a jab to the face, I'm probably not gettin' up"

I’m glad I have your attention, Brit. Honestly, I’m flattered by the fact that you feel it necessary to try to take me out after just a single outing and a couple mentions of me not fucking with the suits in this industry, yourself included. The fact that you think this is punishment? That this is a suitable way to stick it to The Badmon is laughable at best, but realistically settles in the realm of short-sightedness. I put on the best match of the calendar year on YOUR show out of the gate and you feel Dick Trickle’s pet baby man will serve as a viable mercenary to knock me down a couple pegs?

Dick, if you’re listening, then you can take that fact that I have been too and pin it to your lapel. If Colossus catches wind, feel free to play the part of the translator as I’m sure you’re accustomed to at this point. Let your monster know that Spencer Adams has been waiting to sprint through his trollish figure and turn him to human confetti since the moment this popped up on lineup ads. Let him know that despite the extra reps and a belly full to the brim with half the Denny’s menu, Spencer Adams is as eager to tear into him as he is to me and while I’m sure it’s bound to make blood boil, I won’t need an army or a foot soldier in waiting to get the job done.

The thing I find most depressing is that you have to play the role you do for your monster, Dick. You aren’t here shouting about doomsday being a ringbell away with the sort of conviction that makes knees tremble, you do it as a handler. You jiggle the leash and tell another grown man to sit and shake as if he were a dog, because it’s a caveman you’re playing corner man for. Colossus can huff and puff and you can tell the monster to blow down the house of whatever doorstep he’s pushed towards, but remember, he’s still taking instruction and no it’s not as some trainee whose name shows up in the scouting books as a jawdropper of a prospect.

Colossus is raw as skinned knee caps, but let’s not call that some indicator of a big boy ceiling. That coke-bloated meat suit that you call “monster” is here only for passing the lazy eye test. He’s here, because Baylor sees an obstacle. He’s not here to win or make an impact. ‘Sus sole purpose is to be big with absolutely no thought put forward towards longevity or years to come. Trust me, I’ve seen more competent giants burnout in a fraction of the time that I’ve been around, many of whom picked Spencer Adams as a target and would wind up paying the price for doing so.

You shout from the street corners about what your monster can do, but let’s talk about your role and your significance in the equation, Dick. Let’s talk about the aging blowhard who fails the litmus test so decisively that he has to project til his voice gives out just to try to sniff a modicum of success in an industry full of actual stars and people who leave him and his clientele looking out of place from the corner of the room, shall we? Let’s talk about how Dick Trickle wouldn’t be here if there weren’t flyers to spend on question mark talent to make this show look like anything other than Spencer Adams Wrestling.

You want to know why I took this strap night one or why I can stand here and tell you that I’m about to griddy on my competition with an iron fist? It’s because the response to my winning was a hurdle thrown at ME.I’m a threat to Britlyn’s agenda the same way I’m a threat to yours, Dick. I’m a threat the same way that Colossus opening his mouth is a threat towards his ability to maintain TV time in the weeks to come. Your “monster” takes direction, because he needs it. You give it, because you NEED this. You’re willing to throw Colossus into the fire against one of the best fucking wrestlers on God’s green Earth, because you NEED it, Dick. I’m here, because unlike you and yours, there are real prospects who need a real measuring stick around here and when you and your fucking mutt show up in Tuscaloosa, I’ll make sure the world recognizes the difference.