Post by Ethen Bonelo on Jul 22, 2011 23:31:56 GMT -5
*The following entry was discovered by Extreme United Wrestling officials on an unknown date in 2012. The entry was found alongside a photo of the three Redemption members, all in ring attire, with the word “BROTHERS” written on the pictures in white. Next to the picture were three chess pieces, all white King pieces. Its contents, themes, and analysis do not reflect the views of EUW or its affiliates partners or promotions.
Read at your own risk.*
Dear Players of the Game of Life,
From the outset, there didn’t seem like there was going to be anything particularly memorable about the June 22nd. While Redemption (Cripate and I) were booked to wrestle, we were sitting on the middle of the card, facing two men who were more memorable than either of their masked opponents. Immanuel Taylor, an EUW veteran of sorts, and Tyreke Bell, the then EUW Hardkore Champion on the uprise. Cripate and I had just come from wrestling a dark match victory over The Dogs of War, boosting my confidence as well as our team record. It seemed like just another week in EUW.
I was wrong. You will find that to be happening more often from this point.
“It’s a huge opportunity for you,” reminded Jakeway as we sat in our team locker-room. I found myself constantly sitting in my locker-room hours before my match, mentally preparing. So much anxiety for a ten minute match, but like chess, wrestling matches needed to be planned ahead. A good player uses his pieces together in harmony, making sacrifices when necessary. A bad player? They lose.
I’ve tried not to be a bad player in my wrestling career, EUW included.
“Perhaps,” I half-heartedly agreed. “But perhaps you’re looking too far into our situation. We seem to merely be puppets for Taylor and Bell to hammer on before they face off at Stars and Stripes. We exist in this match-up because they exist in this match-up.”
“So fucking negative,” declares Jakeway. “You got a quarter?” I reached into my belt, and pull out a quarter. I handed it to Jakeway, who reached over, and dropped it into his “swear jar.” I had to admit, I envied Jakeway in some regards. He was attempting to make himself a better man, better than he had been in his previous life. He had been an arrogant, self-obsessive, brash man. But no longer. He had direction. He wasn’t lazy. His sin was pride.
You don't want to know mine.
***Editor’s Note #1***
Ewan Jakeway, as you know him, is one of my closest friends. One might call him a brother at times. I call him a brother all of the time.
There’s something symbolic about a coin, a rumination I had while handing Jakeway the coin. A coin will always be two sided. One with the other, without fail. In a sense, that’s exactly how tag team wrestling goes. One man can win a handicap match, or maybe even a few handicap matches, but he can never be considered a team without his other half. He can be considered perhaps even less if he has that half, and they hate him for it. Imagine if the heads side of the coin ripped itself from its metallic bindings, and destroyed the tails side?That was my current situation. Not mine…but theirs.
“I’m just saying, you and ole Crip are in a really solid spot against these two tonight. Doesn’t take a smart car designer to see that Taylor and Bell wanna fight, not wrestle together. You guys aren’t anything to them, yet anyway. I’d bet that swear jar they don’t even last the entire match.”
“It’s never that easy,” I reminded Jakeway as I configured chess pieces on the board in front of me. “They’re still driven by competition. People don’t like losing, and Bell and Taylor won’t exactly sit around, waiting for us to beat them down.”
“But they won’t exactly stand up for one another, now will they?” Jakeway sits down in front of me, examining the board. I’d be surprised if he even knew how to play.
“Think about it, Ethen. Bell and Taylor see each other as pawns. Tyreke Bell is a chance for Immanuel Taylor to get the Hardkore title back. Immanuel Taylor is a title defense for Tyreke Bell. Both guys already have their minds on bigger sh- (he didn’t say it)…things. So, when one pawn gets in trouble, do you automatically rush in and save it?”
Jakeway reached forward, and gently knocked over a black and white pawn. You can no doubt guess the symbolism behind such an act.
“No, I didn’t think so. Just because they’re too lazy and angry to cover each other doesn’t mean you have to be. You two act as a unit, and you’ve got this. But that’s the short term goal. You know what the long term goal is?”
Jakway lifted up the King piece on the board. I never said he wasn’t totally cured of his hubris bug.
“I’m afraid I left my mind-reading ability in my other costume,” I joked. “You’ll have to explain that one.”
“The big picture man! You don’t see the shift coming? Body & Soul are looking on their way out. The Dogs of War are shrinking into obscurity. Who does that leave besides-“
I knew where he was going. Jakeway was about to suggest the one thing I’d hoped he would never bring to my attention.
That I was about to become important to the EUW.
“Roman and I. If you’re suggesting the two of us have a legitamite shot at the tag team titles, I think you’ve let gone a bit off the deep end. Entirely, perhaps.”
“Is it so crazy to imagine?” Jakeway asked harmlessly. “You two are taking on every team EUW had, and so far, you’ve done pretty well. Get another shot at Violent Conduct, and you’ll knock them over. You’ve already moved up from a dark match, and are staying out of this Rivera bull. You have no power teet to suck from. It’s all game, baby. You and Roman's game.”
I didn’t want to be the center of attention. It’s not that I was content in being like a sloth and taking one day at a time, or that I didn’t still have the drive to win. I simply set out in EUW to be one thing (originally):
An observer. Not one watching down from the top of the company, but from the rafters. First part figurative, second part literal.
“It’s gonna happen whether you want it or not,” lectured Jakeway. “But hey, we’re a team, right? I’m going straight up to the top with you guys after you get a victory over the Hardkore and former Hardkore champ. But I gotta prepare for my match soon. We can’t all become the best in the world by staring at a damn chessboard!”
Jakeway dropped another quarter in the swear jar as he left, although I suspect he simply removed the first one.
I felt a strong sense of anxiety flood over me after Jakeway left. Immanuel Taylor and Tyreke Bell were supposed to the stars in our match-up, not us. They were bigger. They were stronger. They had star power, and we didn’t. We were nobodies. We had been in two matches in EUW. Our opponents had at least double digits combined. They would go on to have a fantastic barbed wire match at Stars and Stripes (I won’t spoil the ending for you), and at the time, I was imagine we’d slip back into fumbling through the Vengeance card line-up.
***Editor’s Note #2***
You remember that note I made earlier about being wrong a lot? Case and point.
I remember staring down at the chess board quite a while after Ewan left. Here it was, a figurative layout of the battleground the EUW had become. Sabora and TITAN, Luck and Oblivion, and Bell and Taylor. The knights, bishops, and rooks of EUW. Maybe Roman and I really were just pawns against the impressive looking figures that Bell and Taylor had carved themselves out to be. But Ewan had a point. We were stacking up against the other pieces of the Extreme United Wrestling Machine, and we weren’t doing too badly.
Is it too much to believe a pawn can become something more?
I got excited. I started thinking several steps ahead. Just because I didn’t want to get involved in the dirty, filthy game EUW was playing didn’t mean I couldn’t play by own rules; or play my own game for that matter. I remember moving pieces along the board, knocking down other pawns. Tyreke Bell and Immanuel Taylor. The Dogs of War. Violent Conduct.
Damaged Goods.
I gasped.
It wasimpossiblepossible. If Roman and I truly played our cards, or pieces to keep the metaphor going, correctly, we could defeat Tyreke Bell and Immanuel Taylor, and move on to bigger places ourselves. At that moment, an idea popped into my head, one that I nearly slapped myself for.
By winning the Royal Rumble, I could become the King.
But one piece at a time, as my sin(s) have taught me.
If we rushed our move, or made little to no move at all, we would destroy any chance we had. It was time to formulate with Roman and tell him of my ideas. I had to know that they were real, and not just sick fantasies concocted in the head of a wrestler who wanted to be great just one more time. It was selfish, but it made me feel alive. I stood up from the board, and began to walk out, taking one last look at the EUW battlefield.
I watched it for a long time. I could almost hear the clicking of a timer next to me. It was time to make my move before the sands of time were gone.
We had Tyreke Bell and Immanuel Taylor in our sights. They had made their moves against one another.
Now it was our turn.
Read at your own risk.*
Dear Players of the Game of Life,
From the outset, there didn’t seem like there was going to be anything particularly memorable about the June 22nd. While Redemption (Cripate and I) were booked to wrestle, we were sitting on the middle of the card, facing two men who were more memorable than either of their masked opponents. Immanuel Taylor, an EUW veteran of sorts, and Tyreke Bell, the then EUW Hardkore Champion on the uprise. Cripate and I had just come from wrestling a dark match victory over The Dogs of War, boosting my confidence as well as our team record. It seemed like just another week in EUW.
I was wrong. You will find that to be happening more often from this point.
“It’s a huge opportunity for you,” reminded Jakeway as we sat in our team locker-room. I found myself constantly sitting in my locker-room hours before my match, mentally preparing. So much anxiety for a ten minute match, but like chess, wrestling matches needed to be planned ahead. A good player uses his pieces together in harmony, making sacrifices when necessary. A bad player? They lose.
I’ve tried not to be a bad player in my wrestling career, EUW included.
“Perhaps,” I half-heartedly agreed. “But perhaps you’re looking too far into our situation. We seem to merely be puppets for Taylor and Bell to hammer on before they face off at Stars and Stripes. We exist in this match-up because they exist in this match-up.”
“So fucking negative,” declares Jakeway. “You got a quarter?” I reached into my belt, and pull out a quarter. I handed it to Jakeway, who reached over, and dropped it into his “swear jar.” I had to admit, I envied Jakeway in some regards. He was attempting to make himself a better man, better than he had been in his previous life. He had been an arrogant, self-obsessive, brash man. But no longer. He had direction. He wasn’t lazy. His sin was pride.
You don't want to know mine.
***Editor’s Note #1***
Ewan Jakeway, as you know him, is one of my closest friends. One might call him a brother at times. I call him a brother all of the time.
There’s something symbolic about a coin, a rumination I had while handing Jakeway the coin. A coin will always be two sided. One with the other, without fail. In a sense, that’s exactly how tag team wrestling goes. One man can win a handicap match, or maybe even a few handicap matches, but he can never be considered a team without his other half. He can be considered perhaps even less if he has that half, and they hate him for it. Imagine if the heads side of the coin ripped itself from its metallic bindings, and destroyed the tails side?
“I’m just saying, you and ole Crip are in a really solid spot against these two tonight. Doesn’t take a smart car designer to see that Taylor and Bell wanna fight, not wrestle together. You guys aren’t anything to them, yet anyway. I’d bet that swear jar they don’t even last the entire match.”
“It’s never that easy,” I reminded Jakeway as I configured chess pieces on the board in front of me. “They’re still driven by competition. People don’t like losing, and Bell and Taylor won’t exactly sit around, waiting for us to beat them down.”
“But they won’t exactly stand up for one another, now will they?” Jakeway sits down in front of me, examining the board. I’d be surprised if he even knew how to play.
“Think about it, Ethen. Bell and Taylor see each other as pawns. Tyreke Bell is a chance for Immanuel Taylor to get the Hardkore title back. Immanuel Taylor is a title defense for Tyreke Bell. Both guys already have their minds on bigger sh- (he didn’t say it)…things. So, when one pawn gets in trouble, do you automatically rush in and save it?”
Jakeway reached forward, and gently knocked over a black and white pawn. You can no doubt guess the symbolism behind such an act.
“No, I didn’t think so. Just because they’re too lazy and angry to cover each other doesn’t mean you have to be. You two act as a unit, and you’ve got this. But that’s the short term goal. You know what the long term goal is?”
Jakway lifted up the King piece on the board. I never said he wasn’t totally cured of his hubris bug.
“I’m afraid I left my mind-reading ability in my other costume,” I joked. “You’ll have to explain that one.”
“The big picture man! You don’t see the shift coming? Body & Soul are looking on their way out. The Dogs of War are shrinking into obscurity. Who does that leave besides-“
I knew where he was going. Jakeway was about to suggest the one thing I’d hoped he would never bring to my attention.
That I was about to become important to the EUW.
“Roman and I. If you’re suggesting the two of us have a legitamite shot at the tag team titles, I think you’ve let gone a bit off the deep end. Entirely, perhaps.”
“Is it so crazy to imagine?” Jakeway asked harmlessly. “You two are taking on every team EUW had, and so far, you’ve done pretty well. Get another shot at Violent Conduct, and you’ll knock them over. You’ve already moved up from a dark match, and are staying out of this Rivera bull. You have no power teet to suck from. It’s all game, baby. You and Roman's game.”
I didn’t want to be the center of attention. It’s not that I was content in being like a sloth and taking one day at a time, or that I didn’t still have the drive to win. I simply set out in EUW to be one thing (originally):
An observer. Not one watching down from the top of the company, but from the rafters. First part figurative, second part literal.
“It’s gonna happen whether you want it or not,” lectured Jakeway. “But hey, we’re a team, right? I’m going straight up to the top with you guys after you get a victory over the Hardkore and former Hardkore champ. But I gotta prepare for my match soon. We can’t all become the best in the world by staring at a damn chessboard!”
Jakeway dropped another quarter in the swear jar as he left, although I suspect he simply removed the first one.
I felt a strong sense of anxiety flood over me after Jakeway left. Immanuel Taylor and Tyreke Bell were supposed to the stars in our match-up, not us. They were bigger. They were stronger. They had star power, and we didn’t. We were nobodies. We had been in two matches in EUW. Our opponents had at least double digits combined. They would go on to have a fantastic barbed wire match at Stars and Stripes (I won’t spoil the ending for you), and at the time, I was imagine we’d slip back into fumbling through the Vengeance card line-up.
***Editor’s Note #2***
You remember that note I made earlier about being wrong a lot? Case and point.
I remember staring down at the chess board quite a while after Ewan left. Here it was, a figurative layout of the battleground the EUW had become. Sabora and TITAN, Luck and Oblivion, and Bell and Taylor. The knights, bishops, and rooks of EUW. Maybe Roman and I really were just pawns against the impressive looking figures that Bell and Taylor had carved themselves out to be. But Ewan had a point. We were stacking up against the other pieces of the Extreme United Wrestling Machine, and we weren’t doing too badly.
Is it too much to believe a pawn can become something more?
I got excited. I started thinking several steps ahead. Just because I didn’t want to get involved in the dirty, filthy game EUW was playing didn’t mean I couldn’t play by own rules; or play my own game for that matter. I remember moving pieces along the board, knocking down other pawns. Tyreke Bell and Immanuel Taylor. The Dogs of War. Violent Conduct.
Damaged Goods.
I gasped.
It was
By winning the Royal Rumble, I could become the King.
But one piece at a time, as my sin(s) have taught me.
If we rushed our move, or made little to no move at all, we would destroy any chance we had. It was time to formulate with Roman and tell him of my ideas. I had to know that they were real, and not just sick fantasies concocted in the head of a wrestler who wanted to be great just one more time. It was selfish, but it made me feel alive. I stood up from the board, and began to walk out, taking one last look at the EUW battlefield.
I watched it for a long time. I could almost hear the clicking of a timer next to me. It was time to make my move before the sands of time were gone.
We had Tyreke Bell and Immanuel Taylor in our sights. They had made their moves against one another.
Now it was our turn.
Sincerely,
Ethen Bonelo
Ethen Bonelo