Legacy I
Nov 10, 2016 20:58:53 GMT -5
Post by The Mason on Nov 10, 2016 20:58:53 GMT -5
August 25, 2013
11:30 p.m.
DETROIT, MICHIGAN
The show was over. For good.
Evan must’ve stood at the sink for upwards of twenty minutes, face, chest and fingers still stained with blood. Crimson streaks ran down the glass of the mirror where he’d lied his hands to steady his body, obscuring his view of himself as he gazed ahead. He could see Jenny in the background, sitting cross-legged on the floor against the farthest wall, pulling splinters from the backs of her legs. She had this faint, almost pained smile on her face-- ever the optimist. She hadn’t spoken since they’d returned to the back. Neither one had.
What was there to say? Evan had lost everything. It counted for the both of them.
It was his own fault, allowing the masses to call his bluff, putting his entire career on the line in a ladder match of all things. It was the obtuse kind of logic Evan accused lesser-wrestlers of abiding by. Yet, here he was, one of the two ultimate victims of said logic.
“It’s not over,” Jenny said, quietly.
Evan scoffed. He didn’t mean for it to be loud, but it was. “It’s definitely over. What part of ‘terminated’ didn’t you get?”
She was silent for a few moments .
“It might be over here, but it isn’t over for you,” she continued. “Or for us. We still have places to go.” She folded her arms, shrugging a little. “We still have a lot of stuff we need to do. And we can’t do it if you give up and go disappear for eighteen months again while the world keeps going on…”
Evan didn’t have anything to say at that moment. He looked back at her through the bloodstained glass… and reached down, turning on the faucet again, allowing the cold water to rush down onto his hands. He splashed it up onto his face, intentionally drowning out anything Jenny might’ve been saying. It wasn’t that she’d said anything wrong, but Evan didn’t have it in him to confront the guilt yet. The alternative, though-- closing his eyes, wiping the blood off of his skin-- wasn’t much better. The faces of the Black Hand ran through his head. Niobe. Tommy Knox, the one that had claimed the victory that cost Evan and Jenny their jobs.
And Chris Madison. The smug side-man. The one that stayed in the shadows until it counted. The one that actually was a threat. Jenny had seen it. Evan had seen it. They reacted accordingly, yet it hadn’t been enough.
He pushed the sink handle back, killing the faucet’s stream. Jenny waited a bit before she spoke up again, softly adding to her earlier statement.
“If you think your career dies in APW that’s fine. I don’t agree though.” She finally pushed herself up to her feet, still using the wall as a base. “You’re gonna look back on this years from now and feel like an idiot for even thinking it.”
Evan, truly, wanted more than anything to say to his friend in that moment ”I’m sorry” but bitterness wouldn’t allow him to. Pride wouldn’t allow it. The haunting, grinning, antagonistic smiles of the Black Hand as they swam through his mind wouldn’t.
“Can we go now?” she had asked.
Evan nodded somberly. He turned away from the sink for the first time, catching one last glimpse at his face in the mirror. Even with the blood washed away, he looked like he’d been in a fight. With a final sigh he walked toward his gym bag, reaching down to pull a single white t-shirt from it. He pulled it over his head and followed Jenny to the exit; toward a walk that felt painfully unlike any other he’d taken in the past.
And he would never forget who made him do it.
November 9, 2016
2:22 a.m.
OCEAN CITY, MD
My name is Sadie San Francisco.
I feel sick.
Evan stood with his arms folded on the other side of the living room. His eyes were bloodshot. He’d only pulled himself back to consciousness maybe five minutes ago, realizing by the continuous vibrations of his iPhone that the end was near. Family and friends had reached out for a reaction from Evan, but each time the familiar ”bzzzt!” went off, he would flick his eyes in the direction of the iPhone and then they’d drift back toward the TV. Each time, a sigh would follow.
I repeat: I feel sick.
I caught myself feeling guilty for feeling that way though. As I watched warm colors battle cool colors to decide the fate of my nation, I knew it was what others had longed for… the chance to say, without oppression, “this is who I want to represent me” or in the sweet, delicious, rare case ”this is who represents me.” And my gut felt empty. I felt I wasn’t represented. I cast a vote with the utmost guilt. My conscience wasn’t clear as I left the booth. But I felt the end result was a foregone conclusion. The entire world did.
Yet, I feel sick.
BZZZZZZZT!
Evan’s eyes drifted from the television, toward his phone again.
I couldn’t help but think about the Five Year Anniversary at that moment. My mind drifted toward Molly, like I knew his had. My mind wandered toward Chris Madison like I hoped Evan’s had. No matter how hard I tried to focus, it could only remain there for a moment, not allowed to linger. I couldn’t part my lips to ask where his mind was because at this moment it was obvious.
“It’s not the end of the world,” I said quietly.
Evan glanced up at me, looking back over his shoulder from the television. “You don’t think?”
I shook my head. “Too much shit left to accomplish.”
He nodded a little. Slowly. It didn’t seem convincing—but it was there. He turned toward the television and his shoulders slumped.
“I hope so, Sadie.”
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!
November 10, 2016
2:56 P.M.
LOCATION UNKNOWN
”There are a lot of ways you can go about change. Some are pretty passive. Some are pretty… extreme. Heh, some are very extreme but I guess it depends on who the individual is, right? Guess it depends on what they’re trying to change.
And it’s been a rough week. I know I’ve been pretty vocal about it. Annoyingly so. I don’t care. But, y’know, I won’t beat that dead horse anymore here because at the end of the day, what happened has nothing to do with FGA management or Molly Reid or my super-good-looking ascent toward the Pride Championship. Yet, there’s a recurring theme that really friggin’ bugged me and I saw it going across social media, usually Tweeted out by a bunch of fat losers that didn’t even have a display photo before Wednesday morning. And it wasn’t so much their support and their faith for ONE DUDE that bugged me, but it was the fact that-- that instead of change they were talking about destroying a legacy… ERASING… a legacy.
The smart thing would probably be to talk about how you’re gonna improve upon the legacy-- about what changes you would like to make to STRENGTHEN that legacy. To strengthen a foundation. That is what intelligent people do, right? They build when they could obliterate.
But to erase it-- that implies there was no progress at all. Like you need a reset button to forget about the previous legacy. It's weak. It implies that the legacy was a joke. It spits in the face of every single person that followed the leader behind that legacy and it tells them that they don’t matter. You can try to justify it however you want it but tells them that THEIR opinion, in the grand scheme, means crap. And to millions of people, THAT is demoralizing. THAT is injustice.
How couldn’t it be?
And Chris Madison, that is the damage you caused when you tried to end my career on August 25th, 2013, you selfish piece of trash. You tried to destroy the HEARTS an entire group of people. Regardless of color, religion, gender, or nationality, Camp Envi was ALWAYS accepting brand new Evangelists but you wanted to kill it! You wanted to kill it dead along with Tommy Knox and the Black Hand! You were never tolerant of opinions that didn’t line up with yours, were you, Chris? That’s why you guys had such an issue with every single person you seemed to come into contact with. You guys-- the Black Hand-- you were pretty much on an island of your own but you DUG that. You didn’t have to answer to outsiders’ opinions. You didn’t have to answer to logic. You were free to run companies like Action Packed into the ground, leaving MY FRIENDS without a job even long after you forced me out.
And I saw when you guys made your way over to FGA after all that went down and you targeted the Sparks-- you targeted Annie and you dogged her like she didn’t belong here, and you treated her like you treated people like me back in Action Packed when I was lost, and how you treated people like Jenny Knite back when she was worth something.
I saw how long that run of yours lasted too.
You came back and you made a lot of noise, high off doing lesser things in lesser places, but you ran into the same walls that you ran into back when you tucked tail and left. You talk different but you look like the same Chris Madison that tried to erase my legacy back in 2013. You don’t walk any different. You don’t fight any different. I mean-- you certainly aren’t any harder than you were three years ago. Know what I mean? You look good in the spotlight but on a real level, you haven’t improved or upped your game in three years as much as I have. And that makes a world of difference, Chris.
You went undefeated for a long, long time until Annie punched your ticket two weeks ago on Vertigo, but all she did is start a trend. Although what I do to you on the Fifth Year Anniversary has nothing to do with Annie, it is gonna continue what she started, man. Every time you face a legitimate athlete here in FGA-- which is pretty much every time-- you’re gonna come up short. This isn’t like the bingo halls and dairy farms you’ve been making your name at for the past two years, Chris! THIS IS THE REALNESS.
And I’m the realest.
You came back to conquer FGA, not because you actually wanted a challenge, but because you’ve got it stuck in your head that you were too good! You feel you should’ve been able to take this place by storm the first time, with or without Tommy Knox by your side, so now you’re here to prove to yourself and whoever-else that you could’ve done it all along-- except FGA now is twice as tough as the FGA you left back when you couldn’t hack it. You might have improved as far as basic grappling, Chris-- heck, you might have changed-- but so has FGA. So has wrestling.
So have I.
And it’s fitting that in your third match back you hit a giant, impregnable wall. Was that demoralizing for you, Chris, like it was demoralizing for millions of Evangelists when you forced me out of a respected establishment in 2013? Did it hit you in the feels to know that in LESSER PLACES you were considered something great but back here in the REAL WORLD, you’re the same old Chris Madison you always were and you were always destined to be? Huh? I mean, does that eat at you NOW, Chris, or have you gone ahead and blinded yourself again?
Because after the Fifth Year Anniversary, it’d seem like a really good time to tuck tail and bail just like you did two years ago. Maybe next time you can come back with Knox and the gang and you can trample over those smaller than you just like you used to because THAT is the kind of wrestler everybody respects. Never EVER let it be forgotten the kind of man you are, Chris.
You’re a cheater. You take shortcuts. You’re disgusting. You’re literal trash.
You suck, Chris, and if my mother had raised me to be the man your mother raised, I would off myself for the betterment of mankind. It’s too bad you didn’t grow up to be somebody more like me. Somebody that was tolerant of everybody despite their background and where they came from… somebody that was born naturally more intelligent and more athletically gifted than his peers. I mean-- man, you definitely weren’t born a natural leader and that showed when you followed Knox around like a lovesick puppy. You were the better wrestler in the Black Hand. You were the smarter one. You were the guy who got it, y’know?
But it’s so much easier to just take a backseat, right? Like… there’s this huge rush and this huge sense of pride when people talk about how underrated you were, and how they wish they could’ve seen the best of you while you were in your prime but you WERE in your prime when you let Knox take the reins, weren’t you, Chris? You went onto win the same championship and headline the same events Knox couldn’t handle after you forced me out, but even after all that, you still moseyed your way here to FGA, and to other places that I don’t have the energy to name, and you stayed behind Knox.
Not forever. No. But long enough.
Long enough to become a mediocre version of the Chris Madison every longed to see two, three, or four years ago. Long enough to rack up victories over nobodies that I couldn’t even be bugged to name. And now you’re here, undefeated against whoever for nearly two calendar years and you expect everybody to cower because of some numbers. So FGA obliges. They bite. They pay you. They bring you back. They buy into the hype Camp Envi never bought into.
Now look at you.
Three matches later and you look just as stupid as you did in October 2014.
I don’t think you’re somebody that’s hard to believe in. I think you really believe you’re a great fighter. I think you truly believe you owe FGA your best and you believe that you can become the World Champion here. I saw it in your eyes when Zero left, man. I heard it in your voice when you talked about the Wildcard Lottery and the tournament to crown a new World Champ. You have a lot of faith in Chris Madison and, whether I want to admit it or not, it’s admirable. To your credit you were the best member of the Black Hand-- the same faction you turned into a household name-- but that was over three years ago.
We were young and stupid as a people three years ago! The fact that you got so much credit was a massive series of human errors across the board. Across the nation, even. Since then, we’ve grown, Evangelists or not. But have you, Chris?
Heh… have you at least grown as fast?
Hm. Probably not. It wouldn’t be fair to expect you to. You always claimed to be a world class talent but educated people like myself-- we always knew different. Inside the ring or outside of it, man, you’re trash like the Black Hand was trash. Like Tommy Knox were trash. Like the Chris Madison of old was trash.
You’re a stronger dude than you were then. You’re trickier. Maybe you’re better at wrestling. But you’re still not here for every dude. I am though. I’ll still keep fighting that fight for everybody that needs to be fought for.
I’m worth it, Chris. I’m a direct link to the masses. And I’m gonna build upon an existing foundation at your expense. I’m gonna use the Fifth Year Anniversary to build momentum toward my inevitable Pride Championship win at Final Frontier. And you can still sit back and grin in relief because you’ll have been a part of something great, man. Something historic.
You would’ve been the most crucial stop on a path toward redemption for the FGA Pride Championship.
A part of history in its most iconic sense, Chris. A part of change.
…
A part of a legacy.”
fin.
11:30 p.m.
DETROIT, MICHIGAN
The show was over. For good.
Evan must’ve stood at the sink for upwards of twenty minutes, face, chest and fingers still stained with blood. Crimson streaks ran down the glass of the mirror where he’d lied his hands to steady his body, obscuring his view of himself as he gazed ahead. He could see Jenny in the background, sitting cross-legged on the floor against the farthest wall, pulling splinters from the backs of her legs. She had this faint, almost pained smile on her face-- ever the optimist. She hadn’t spoken since they’d returned to the back. Neither one had.
What was there to say? Evan had lost everything. It counted for the both of them.
It was his own fault, allowing the masses to call his bluff, putting his entire career on the line in a ladder match of all things. It was the obtuse kind of logic Evan accused lesser-wrestlers of abiding by. Yet, here he was, one of the two ultimate victims of said logic.
“It’s not over,” Jenny said, quietly.
Evan scoffed. He didn’t mean for it to be loud, but it was. “It’s definitely over. What part of ‘terminated’ didn’t you get?”
She was silent for a few moments .
“It might be over here, but it isn’t over for you,” she continued. “Or for us. We still have places to go.” She folded her arms, shrugging a little. “We still have a lot of stuff we need to do. And we can’t do it if you give up and go disappear for eighteen months again while the world keeps going on…”
Evan didn’t have anything to say at that moment. He looked back at her through the bloodstained glass… and reached down, turning on the faucet again, allowing the cold water to rush down onto his hands. He splashed it up onto his face, intentionally drowning out anything Jenny might’ve been saying. It wasn’t that she’d said anything wrong, but Evan didn’t have it in him to confront the guilt yet. The alternative, though-- closing his eyes, wiping the blood off of his skin-- wasn’t much better. The faces of the Black Hand ran through his head. Niobe. Tommy Knox, the one that had claimed the victory that cost Evan and Jenny their jobs.
And Chris Madison. The smug side-man. The one that stayed in the shadows until it counted. The one that actually was a threat. Jenny had seen it. Evan had seen it. They reacted accordingly, yet it hadn’t been enough.
He pushed the sink handle back, killing the faucet’s stream. Jenny waited a bit before she spoke up again, softly adding to her earlier statement.
“If you think your career dies in APW that’s fine. I don’t agree though.” She finally pushed herself up to her feet, still using the wall as a base. “You’re gonna look back on this years from now and feel like an idiot for even thinking it.”
Evan, truly, wanted more than anything to say to his friend in that moment ”I’m sorry” but bitterness wouldn’t allow him to. Pride wouldn’t allow it. The haunting, grinning, antagonistic smiles of the Black Hand as they swam through his mind wouldn’t.
“Can we go now?” she had asked.
Evan nodded somberly. He turned away from the sink for the first time, catching one last glimpse at his face in the mirror. Even with the blood washed away, he looked like he’d been in a fight. With a final sigh he walked toward his gym bag, reaching down to pull a single white t-shirt from it. He pulled it over his head and followed Jenny to the exit; toward a walk that felt painfully unlike any other he’d taken in the past.
And he would never forget who made him do it.
November 9, 2016
2:22 a.m.
OCEAN CITY, MD
My name is Sadie San Francisco.
I feel sick.
Evan stood with his arms folded on the other side of the living room. His eyes were bloodshot. He’d only pulled himself back to consciousness maybe five minutes ago, realizing by the continuous vibrations of his iPhone that the end was near. Family and friends had reached out for a reaction from Evan, but each time the familiar ”bzzzt!” went off, he would flick his eyes in the direction of the iPhone and then they’d drift back toward the TV. Each time, a sigh would follow.
I repeat: I feel sick.
I caught myself feeling guilty for feeling that way though. As I watched warm colors battle cool colors to decide the fate of my nation, I knew it was what others had longed for… the chance to say, without oppression, “this is who I want to represent me” or in the sweet, delicious, rare case ”this is who represents me.” And my gut felt empty. I felt I wasn’t represented. I cast a vote with the utmost guilt. My conscience wasn’t clear as I left the booth. But I felt the end result was a foregone conclusion. The entire world did.
Yet, I feel sick.
BZZZZZZZT!
Evan’s eyes drifted from the television, toward his phone again.
I couldn’t help but think about the Five Year Anniversary at that moment. My mind drifted toward Molly, like I knew his had. My mind wandered toward Chris Madison like I hoped Evan’s had. No matter how hard I tried to focus, it could only remain there for a moment, not allowed to linger. I couldn’t part my lips to ask where his mind was because at this moment it was obvious.
“It’s not the end of the world,” I said quietly.
Evan glanced up at me, looking back over his shoulder from the television. “You don’t think?”
I shook my head. “Too much shit left to accomplish.”
He nodded a little. Slowly. It didn’t seem convincing—but it was there. He turned toward the television and his shoulders slumped.
“I hope so, Sadie.”
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!
November 10, 2016
2:56 P.M.
LOCATION UNKNOWN
”There are a lot of ways you can go about change. Some are pretty passive. Some are pretty… extreme. Heh, some are very extreme but I guess it depends on who the individual is, right? Guess it depends on what they’re trying to change.
And it’s been a rough week. I know I’ve been pretty vocal about it. Annoyingly so. I don’t care. But, y’know, I won’t beat that dead horse anymore here because at the end of the day, what happened has nothing to do with FGA management or Molly Reid or my super-good-looking ascent toward the Pride Championship. Yet, there’s a recurring theme that really friggin’ bugged me and I saw it going across social media, usually Tweeted out by a bunch of fat losers that didn’t even have a display photo before Wednesday morning. And it wasn’t so much their support and their faith for ONE DUDE that bugged me, but it was the fact that-- that instead of change they were talking about destroying a legacy… ERASING… a legacy.
The smart thing would probably be to talk about how you’re gonna improve upon the legacy-- about what changes you would like to make to STRENGTHEN that legacy. To strengthen a foundation. That is what intelligent people do, right? They build when they could obliterate.
But to erase it-- that implies there was no progress at all. Like you need a reset button to forget about the previous legacy. It's weak. It implies that the legacy was a joke. It spits in the face of every single person that followed the leader behind that legacy and it tells them that they don’t matter. You can try to justify it however you want it but tells them that THEIR opinion, in the grand scheme, means crap. And to millions of people, THAT is demoralizing. THAT is injustice.
How couldn’t it be?
And Chris Madison, that is the damage you caused when you tried to end my career on August 25th, 2013, you selfish piece of trash. You tried to destroy the HEARTS an entire group of people. Regardless of color, religion, gender, or nationality, Camp Envi was ALWAYS accepting brand new Evangelists but you wanted to kill it! You wanted to kill it dead along with Tommy Knox and the Black Hand! You were never tolerant of opinions that didn’t line up with yours, were you, Chris? That’s why you guys had such an issue with every single person you seemed to come into contact with. You guys-- the Black Hand-- you were pretty much on an island of your own but you DUG that. You didn’t have to answer to outsiders’ opinions. You didn’t have to answer to logic. You were free to run companies like Action Packed into the ground, leaving MY FRIENDS without a job even long after you forced me out.
And I saw when you guys made your way over to FGA after all that went down and you targeted the Sparks-- you targeted Annie and you dogged her like she didn’t belong here, and you treated her like you treated people like me back in Action Packed when I was lost, and how you treated people like Jenny Knite back when she was worth something.
I saw how long that run of yours lasted too.
You came back and you made a lot of noise, high off doing lesser things in lesser places, but you ran into the same walls that you ran into back when you tucked tail and left. You talk different but you look like the same Chris Madison that tried to erase my legacy back in 2013. You don’t walk any different. You don’t fight any different. I mean-- you certainly aren’t any harder than you were three years ago. Know what I mean? You look good in the spotlight but on a real level, you haven’t improved or upped your game in three years as much as I have. And that makes a world of difference, Chris.
You went undefeated for a long, long time until Annie punched your ticket two weeks ago on Vertigo, but all she did is start a trend. Although what I do to you on the Fifth Year Anniversary has nothing to do with Annie, it is gonna continue what she started, man. Every time you face a legitimate athlete here in FGA-- which is pretty much every time-- you’re gonna come up short. This isn’t like the bingo halls and dairy farms you’ve been making your name at for the past two years, Chris! THIS IS THE REALNESS.
And I’m the realest.
You came back to conquer FGA, not because you actually wanted a challenge, but because you’ve got it stuck in your head that you were too good! You feel you should’ve been able to take this place by storm the first time, with or without Tommy Knox by your side, so now you’re here to prove to yourself and whoever-else that you could’ve done it all along-- except FGA now is twice as tough as the FGA you left back when you couldn’t hack it. You might have improved as far as basic grappling, Chris-- heck, you might have changed-- but so has FGA. So has wrestling.
So have I.
And it’s fitting that in your third match back you hit a giant, impregnable wall. Was that demoralizing for you, Chris, like it was demoralizing for millions of Evangelists when you forced me out of a respected establishment in 2013? Did it hit you in the feels to know that in LESSER PLACES you were considered something great but back here in the REAL WORLD, you’re the same old Chris Madison you always were and you were always destined to be? Huh? I mean, does that eat at you NOW, Chris, or have you gone ahead and blinded yourself again?
Because after the Fifth Year Anniversary, it’d seem like a really good time to tuck tail and bail just like you did two years ago. Maybe next time you can come back with Knox and the gang and you can trample over those smaller than you just like you used to because THAT is the kind of wrestler everybody respects. Never EVER let it be forgotten the kind of man you are, Chris.
You’re a cheater. You take shortcuts. You’re disgusting. You’re literal trash.
You suck, Chris, and if my mother had raised me to be the man your mother raised, I would off myself for the betterment of mankind. It’s too bad you didn’t grow up to be somebody more like me. Somebody that was tolerant of everybody despite their background and where they came from… somebody that was born naturally more intelligent and more athletically gifted than his peers. I mean-- man, you definitely weren’t born a natural leader and that showed when you followed Knox around like a lovesick puppy. You were the better wrestler in the Black Hand. You were the smarter one. You were the guy who got it, y’know?
But it’s so much easier to just take a backseat, right? Like… there’s this huge rush and this huge sense of pride when people talk about how underrated you were, and how they wish they could’ve seen the best of you while you were in your prime but you WERE in your prime when you let Knox take the reins, weren’t you, Chris? You went onto win the same championship and headline the same events Knox couldn’t handle after you forced me out, but even after all that, you still moseyed your way here to FGA, and to other places that I don’t have the energy to name, and you stayed behind Knox.
Not forever. No. But long enough.
Long enough to become a mediocre version of the Chris Madison every longed to see two, three, or four years ago. Long enough to rack up victories over nobodies that I couldn’t even be bugged to name. And now you’re here, undefeated against whoever for nearly two calendar years and you expect everybody to cower because of some numbers. So FGA obliges. They bite. They pay you. They bring you back. They buy into the hype Camp Envi never bought into.
Now look at you.
Three matches later and you look just as stupid as you did in October 2014.
I don’t think you’re somebody that’s hard to believe in. I think you really believe you’re a great fighter. I think you truly believe you owe FGA your best and you believe that you can become the World Champion here. I saw it in your eyes when Zero left, man. I heard it in your voice when you talked about the Wildcard Lottery and the tournament to crown a new World Champ. You have a lot of faith in Chris Madison and, whether I want to admit it or not, it’s admirable. To your credit you were the best member of the Black Hand-- the same faction you turned into a household name-- but that was over three years ago.
We were young and stupid as a people three years ago! The fact that you got so much credit was a massive series of human errors across the board. Across the nation, even. Since then, we’ve grown, Evangelists or not. But have you, Chris?
Heh… have you at least grown as fast?
Hm. Probably not. It wouldn’t be fair to expect you to. You always claimed to be a world class talent but educated people like myself-- we always knew different. Inside the ring or outside of it, man, you’re trash like the Black Hand was trash. Like Tommy Knox were trash. Like the Chris Madison of old was trash.
You’re a stronger dude than you were then. You’re trickier. Maybe you’re better at wrestling. But you’re still not here for every dude. I am though. I’ll still keep fighting that fight for everybody that needs to be fought for.
I’m worth it, Chris. I’m a direct link to the masses. And I’m gonna build upon an existing foundation at your expense. I’m gonna use the Fifth Year Anniversary to build momentum toward my inevitable Pride Championship win at Final Frontier. And you can still sit back and grin in relief because you’ll have been a part of something great, man. Something historic.
You would’ve been the most crucial stop on a path toward redemption for the FGA Pride Championship.
A part of history in its most iconic sense, Chris. A part of change.
…
A part of a legacy.”
fin.