The Art of War
Sept 14, 2015 9:20:13 GMT -5
Post by Vinny on Sept 14, 2015 9:20:13 GMT -5
Whitsett, NC
About 5 miles south-west of Gibsonville is the small town of Whitsett, North Carolina; boasting a population of 590... and at least one visitor. The Whitsett YMCA is mostly empty at five in the morning, save for a half-asleep door attendant and a young man taking advantage of an empty weight room.
Jason Bronco – attired in black track pants, Chuck Taylors, and a sweat-soaked gray hoodie – is finishing up an early morning work out with a round of jump ropes. He closes with a set of double-unders before finally jumping to a finish. Bronco pops the earbuds from his ears and wipes down his face with a towel before heading towards the locker room.
“Opportunities,” he says as he removes his hoodie, “I got my first one with Chris Bond in the Dynamic Duos tournament. I worked my way into a second one against Ze Germans at 2nd Impact. I'm sure there's some that would say I've squandered these chances. That my 1-and-2 record has me more at two strikes with only one more to go. Now I have the opportunity to prove the doubters wrong; I have my first professional singles match at Pride.”
Bronco peels off the soaked white undershirt and tosses it into his locker before toweling off his torso.
“Quinn Cobain, a young lady who has already made her debut and already matched me in total wins... that's who I'm facing. A young lady who had more than a few things to say about art and athleticism and professional wrestling. I'd like to puff out my chest and say that I'm going to stretch this Scot into a pretzel that would make MC Escher blush... but I'm not an elder statesman for this sport. I'm not in any position to worry about the reputation and perception of the sport I love; I need to worry about getting my first singles win first.”
“I know a little something about reaching for the brass ring and finding out your arms are a little too short. I know a little something about chasing a dream and realizing your legs just can't go fast enough to catch it. We're not so different, Quinn, at least in that regard. We were we do differ is that I haven't rolled over and played dead. I haven't given up. I'm not someone who quits. I'm sure there's people out there who are laughing at me, calling me a dumb kid for giving up everything to chase my dream, and deriding my promos as a string of empty platitudes. I'm sure there's plenty of people picking you to go over on me this week, too. All that does is convince me I need to work harder, I need to push myself farther, and I need steel myself and ready for battle.”
“So, Ms. Cobain, you might be coming for an art exhibition... but I'm coming for war.”
About 5 miles south-west of Gibsonville is the small town of Whitsett, North Carolina; boasting a population of 590... and at least one visitor. The Whitsett YMCA is mostly empty at five in the morning, save for a half-asleep door attendant and a young man taking advantage of an empty weight room.
Jason Bronco – attired in black track pants, Chuck Taylors, and a sweat-soaked gray hoodie – is finishing up an early morning work out with a round of jump ropes. He closes with a set of double-unders before finally jumping to a finish. Bronco pops the earbuds from his ears and wipes down his face with a towel before heading towards the locker room.
“Opportunities,” he says as he removes his hoodie, “I got my first one with Chris Bond in the Dynamic Duos tournament. I worked my way into a second one against Ze Germans at 2nd Impact. I'm sure there's some that would say I've squandered these chances. That my 1-and-2 record has me more at two strikes with only one more to go. Now I have the opportunity to prove the doubters wrong; I have my first professional singles match at Pride.”
Bronco peels off the soaked white undershirt and tosses it into his locker before toweling off his torso.
“Quinn Cobain, a young lady who has already made her debut and already matched me in total wins... that's who I'm facing. A young lady who had more than a few things to say about art and athleticism and professional wrestling. I'd like to puff out my chest and say that I'm going to stretch this Scot into a pretzel that would make MC Escher blush... but I'm not an elder statesman for this sport. I'm not in any position to worry about the reputation and perception of the sport I love; I need to worry about getting my first singles win first.”
“I know a little something about reaching for the brass ring and finding out your arms are a little too short. I know a little something about chasing a dream and realizing your legs just can't go fast enough to catch it. We're not so different, Quinn, at least in that regard. We were we do differ is that I haven't rolled over and played dead. I haven't given up. I'm not someone who quits. I'm sure there's people out there who are laughing at me, calling me a dumb kid for giving up everything to chase my dream, and deriding my promos as a string of empty platitudes. I'm sure there's plenty of people picking you to go over on me this week, too. All that does is convince me I need to work harder, I need to push myself farther, and I need steel myself and ready for battle.”
“So, Ms. Cobain, you might be coming for an art exhibition... but I'm coming for war.”