Post by Jay Stevens on Mar 27, 2021 22:13:29 GMT -5
”But I’m not holding back anymore, Eron.”
As soon as the words leave his lips, Jay Stevens knows there will surely be a response. It will likely come quickly as his opponent has not yet shown any signs of patience or forethought. “He lacks discipline” crosses Jay’s mind as he enjoys the quiet of the gym, if only for a moment.
“So why have you been holding back?”
Jay stops dead in his tracks as a familiar voice calls from the shadows. He turns to face the sound and locks eyes with its source.
“I’ve been leery of the risk. You, of all people, should understand that big risks don’t always mean big rewards… dad.”
Emerging from the shadows is Jay’s father, the “King of Pain” himself, Stephen Greer. One half of the notorious and decorated “Greatest Tag Team in Wrestling History” Team Danger, Greer has made his way from the warm embrace of Florida to the cold shoulder of the Midwest, and his son.
“You’re right kid, but no risk equals no rewards at all,” Greer asserts.
Jay stays focused on the man who raised him and trained him in the profession he loves. The father approaches the son and throws his burly arms around the young man. Getting very little reciprocation, Greer takes a step back.
“Not happy to see me?” he says with a smile.
Stevens quickly responds, “I just don’t get why you’re here. What, did Davis call you?”
Dismissive, Greer shakes his head and hops up onto the ring apron, sitting against the ropes.
“I know everyone is saying you’re in a mood but damn, show your old man some love,” Greer says with a chuckle. “And no, Davis didn’t call me. Ty called. Nicole called. Even Jenna sent me one of those text messages filled with sad faces.”
“Dad, everything’s fine. Seriously,” Jay sternly delivers. “I don’t get why everyone wants me to be all fun and games all the time. I’m not like you guys.”
Greer smiles, the knowing smile of a father looking at the reflection of his younger self. “Jay, I get it. I completely understand the whole ‘I don’t want to be like my father’ angle. Hell, I don’t want you to be like me either. I’ve always wanted you to be much better.”
Stevens’ stance shrinks, his crossed arms unfolding.
"But God damn, the way you act around us you'd think we beat the shit out of you and locked you in the closet," the King of Pain grumbles.
"It's not that at all. Just when it comes to wrestling, our ideologies are completely different," the young man confidently retorts. "And just like it was for you guys, wrestling is my life. Every day, every hour is devoted to being the best at this."
The father nods, his face showing concern as his son continues.
"So when everyone is talking about how 'different' I am being, it just makes me think no one really gets what I'm trying to do," Jay says. "This is the first time I've been out here on my own, without the ‘Team Danger bubble’ and I'm just trying to keep my eye on the prize. Not get sidetracked. No distractions. I figured you would understand that."
Greer sighs.
"I understand completely. And for the record, I wasn’t ‘distracted’ by painkillers, I was addicted,” the aged fighter says of his well-documented addiction to opiates. “But that was the price I paid for the business. You’re already off to a better start than I was though, Jay. You have natural athleticism and you’ve been given all the tools from years of combined experience.”
Stevens stands silently, carefully listening.
“I was always honest with you about who I am and who I was. And when you told me you wanted to be a professional wrestler, I never shied away from exposing you to the danger,” Greer continues with a somber tone. “I was only four years in when I torched my back. Five when my knees got bad. Seven when they got really bad.”
Greer rubs his knees, the pangs of a storied history of pain and reconstructions filling him.
“But I wasn’t the wrestler you already are. I didn’t really become a wrestler at all until after I had already shortened my career. I was a fighter. I made up for my shortcomings by hurting myself as badly as I was hurting everyone else,” the father’s tone begins to change mid sentence as he pushes through the pain. “You’re a fighter too, but you’re smarter. You don’t have to take endless risks nightly to stay ahead of your opponent. You don’t have to learn that you’re exceptionally good at handling pain by wrestling in barbed wire and glass. Now be smarter. Stop playing fuck around and get back on track.”
Jay can’t help but smile and interrupt, “You’re monologuing.”
“Yeah, because that’s the type of wrestler I am. Talk a lot, fight a lot, get paid,” he laughs. “And I know that you’re more into the purity of competition and fighting spirit and all that and I respect that, believe me I do. But don’t forget that even though you’re on a different path than I was, you still have the thing I had, friends and family.”
Jay turns away shaking his head.
“I’m serious, Jay. You’re surrounded by people who care enough to make sure you don’t end up fucked up like your old man,” Greer reaches out and places his hand on his son’s shoulder. “You inherited a lot from me and Ty saw something dark when he talked to you. The same thing he saw in me. That’s why I’m here.”
Jay spins to face his father, “Look, I just let myself down when I didn’t win the Cruiserweight Cup. I thought I had it. I knew I had it.”
“You talked to Ty before that,” Greer puts his hand up to motion Jay to stop. “I know you’re not reeling from some loss. You’re stronger than that.”
Jay’s face changes. His jaw clenches and his brow furrows.
“You’re right. It’s not losing a match,” Stevens says in a hushed, deliberate tone. “I’ve been losing myself. Everything from the first day I stepped foot in Northern Pro has been the exact opposite of competition until the Cruiserweight Cup. First was fucking Bloodline, then Eric siccing his dogs on me.”
Greer interjects.
“About that…”
“No, it’s just another thing that made me wonder if I’ve been wrong. Maybe doing it your way, Eric’s way, is the right way. Even if it’s wrong. Because obviously it produces results and it doesn’t matter if the fight is unfair or if it’s a betrayal of trust, of ‘family’. Just win and get paid, right?”
Greer sits silently, searching for the words to ease his son’s mind.
“That’s not me, though. I’ve realized this. I was torn between what I’ve known I can be and what I know I want to be. What’s been bothering me is that I can tell how easy it would be to just lean right into it and betray the things I stand for. To ignore honor and fairness, to sell out everyone at any chance to get ahead and make a buck. But I’m better than that. There has to be some sense of right and wrong, especially in this sport, or it’s just a never ending stream of idiots in masks, running through the woods and ruining everything that I love.”
Greer smirks and interrupts.
“Now you’re monologuing,” Greer says gleefully. A smile cracks the stoic facade of the young man.
“Dad, I love you. You, Ty and Kelly will always be my family, obviously. Without you guys, none of this would be possible for Nicki and me. But when it comes to wrestling, and my future, I’m not ‘Team Danger’ and I don’t think I ever will be. I have the utmost respect for you guys even if I don’t necessarily agree with all of your methods.
But I’m here, all the way.. And that means that all bets are off. The old way, the ‘TD’ way, those things have to go, and with them the people who practice them.”
Greer looks to his son, giving him a subtle nod of agreement.
“This is your shot, I won’t get in your way. Just keep your head on a swivel, you know who you’re dealing with.”
Jay nods back to his father, acknowledging he understands the road ahead.
“I’m ready.”
Jay steps forward and embraces his father heartily. As they separate, Greer tries to tussle his son’s hair, only to be dodged and nearly thrown to the ground. He bellows out a loud guffaw and pats Jay on the back as they head for the exit.
As soon as the words leave his lips, Jay Stevens knows there will surely be a response. It will likely come quickly as his opponent has not yet shown any signs of patience or forethought. “He lacks discipline” crosses Jay’s mind as he enjoys the quiet of the gym, if only for a moment.
“So why have you been holding back?”
Jay stops dead in his tracks as a familiar voice calls from the shadows. He turns to face the sound and locks eyes with its source.
“I’ve been leery of the risk. You, of all people, should understand that big risks don’t always mean big rewards… dad.”
Emerging from the shadows is Jay’s father, the “King of Pain” himself, Stephen Greer. One half of the notorious and decorated “Greatest Tag Team in Wrestling History” Team Danger, Greer has made his way from the warm embrace of Florida to the cold shoulder of the Midwest, and his son.
“You’re right kid, but no risk equals no rewards at all,” Greer asserts.
Jay stays focused on the man who raised him and trained him in the profession he loves. The father approaches the son and throws his burly arms around the young man. Getting very little reciprocation, Greer takes a step back.
“Not happy to see me?” he says with a smile.
Stevens quickly responds, “I just don’t get why you’re here. What, did Davis call you?”
Dismissive, Greer shakes his head and hops up onto the ring apron, sitting against the ropes.
“I know everyone is saying you’re in a mood but damn, show your old man some love,” Greer says with a chuckle. “And no, Davis didn’t call me. Ty called. Nicole called. Even Jenna sent me one of those text messages filled with sad faces.”
“Dad, everything’s fine. Seriously,” Jay sternly delivers. “I don’t get why everyone wants me to be all fun and games all the time. I’m not like you guys.”
Greer smiles, the knowing smile of a father looking at the reflection of his younger self. “Jay, I get it. I completely understand the whole ‘I don’t want to be like my father’ angle. Hell, I don’t want you to be like me either. I’ve always wanted you to be much better.”
Stevens’ stance shrinks, his crossed arms unfolding.
"But God damn, the way you act around us you'd think we beat the shit out of you and locked you in the closet," the King of Pain grumbles.
"It's not that at all. Just when it comes to wrestling, our ideologies are completely different," the young man confidently retorts. "And just like it was for you guys, wrestling is my life. Every day, every hour is devoted to being the best at this."
The father nods, his face showing concern as his son continues.
"So when everyone is talking about how 'different' I am being, it just makes me think no one really gets what I'm trying to do," Jay says. "This is the first time I've been out here on my own, without the ‘Team Danger bubble’ and I'm just trying to keep my eye on the prize. Not get sidetracked. No distractions. I figured you would understand that."
Greer sighs.
"I understand completely. And for the record, I wasn’t ‘distracted’ by painkillers, I was addicted,” the aged fighter says of his well-documented addiction to opiates. “But that was the price I paid for the business. You’re already off to a better start than I was though, Jay. You have natural athleticism and you’ve been given all the tools from years of combined experience.”
Stevens stands silently, carefully listening.
“I was always honest with you about who I am and who I was. And when you told me you wanted to be a professional wrestler, I never shied away from exposing you to the danger,” Greer continues with a somber tone. “I was only four years in when I torched my back. Five when my knees got bad. Seven when they got really bad.”
Greer rubs his knees, the pangs of a storied history of pain and reconstructions filling him.
“But I wasn’t the wrestler you already are. I didn’t really become a wrestler at all until after I had already shortened my career. I was a fighter. I made up for my shortcomings by hurting myself as badly as I was hurting everyone else,” the father’s tone begins to change mid sentence as he pushes through the pain. “You’re a fighter too, but you’re smarter. You don’t have to take endless risks nightly to stay ahead of your opponent. You don’t have to learn that you’re exceptionally good at handling pain by wrestling in barbed wire and glass. Now be smarter. Stop playing fuck around and get back on track.”
Jay can’t help but smile and interrupt, “You’re monologuing.”
“Yeah, because that’s the type of wrestler I am. Talk a lot, fight a lot, get paid,” he laughs. “And I know that you’re more into the purity of competition and fighting spirit and all that and I respect that, believe me I do. But don’t forget that even though you’re on a different path than I was, you still have the thing I had, friends and family.”
Jay turns away shaking his head.
“I’m serious, Jay. You’re surrounded by people who care enough to make sure you don’t end up fucked up like your old man,” Greer reaches out and places his hand on his son’s shoulder. “You inherited a lot from me and Ty saw something dark when he talked to you. The same thing he saw in me. That’s why I’m here.”
Jay spins to face his father, “Look, I just let myself down when I didn’t win the Cruiserweight Cup. I thought I had it. I knew I had it.”
“You talked to Ty before that,” Greer puts his hand up to motion Jay to stop. “I know you’re not reeling from some loss. You’re stronger than that.”
Jay’s face changes. His jaw clenches and his brow furrows.
“You’re right. It’s not losing a match,” Stevens says in a hushed, deliberate tone. “I’ve been losing myself. Everything from the first day I stepped foot in Northern Pro has been the exact opposite of competition until the Cruiserweight Cup. First was fucking Bloodline, then Eric siccing his dogs on me.”
Greer interjects.
“About that…”
“No, it’s just another thing that made me wonder if I’ve been wrong. Maybe doing it your way, Eric’s way, is the right way. Even if it’s wrong. Because obviously it produces results and it doesn’t matter if the fight is unfair or if it’s a betrayal of trust, of ‘family’. Just win and get paid, right?”
Greer sits silently, searching for the words to ease his son’s mind.
“That’s not me, though. I’ve realized this. I was torn between what I’ve known I can be and what I know I want to be. What’s been bothering me is that I can tell how easy it would be to just lean right into it and betray the things I stand for. To ignore honor and fairness, to sell out everyone at any chance to get ahead and make a buck. But I’m better than that. There has to be some sense of right and wrong, especially in this sport, or it’s just a never ending stream of idiots in masks, running through the woods and ruining everything that I love.”
Greer smirks and interrupts.
“Now you’re monologuing,” Greer says gleefully. A smile cracks the stoic facade of the young man.
“Dad, I love you. You, Ty and Kelly will always be my family, obviously. Without you guys, none of this would be possible for Nicki and me. But when it comes to wrestling, and my future, I’m not ‘Team Danger’ and I don’t think I ever will be. I have the utmost respect for you guys even if I don’t necessarily agree with all of your methods.
But I’m here, all the way.. And that means that all bets are off. The old way, the ‘TD’ way, those things have to go, and with them the people who practice them.”
Greer looks to his son, giving him a subtle nod of agreement.
“This is your shot, I won’t get in your way. Just keep your head on a swivel, you know who you’re dealing with.”
Jay nods back to his father, acknowledging he understands the road ahead.
“I’m ready.”
Jay steps forward and embraces his father heartily. As they separate, Greer tries to tussle his son’s hair, only to be dodged and nearly thrown to the ground. He bellows out a loud guffaw and pats Jay on the back as they head for the exit.