Post by Owen Gonsalves on May 22, 2015 22:07:21 GMT -6
Life can be strange in the way it throws you moments from your past to remind you what needs to be done to overcome a challenge in your future. It throws you moments that'll aid you in your fight against whatever machine you may be fighting against.
My fight is against the wrestling machine, Seth Iser. A man who has his own set of morals that he's tried to shove down the throats of everyone that dares cross him. He'll do anything to have his final word...going as far as driving my wife's head into the mat as "self defense" because she stepped into the ring. If his problem from the beginning was my Ultraviolent past then he should've given me the DDT...
But he didn't and that's become my problem with Seth...Forget this generation clash, forget all the stupid back and forth arguments that have happened. At the end of the day he has harmed my family and there's nothing in the world that is going to stop me from hurting him in this I Quit match. But there's been this conscience in the back of my head reminding me of who I am and what I stand for...
It's the same conscience that stopped me from dropping Iser on his head in front of his little girl...It's been holding me back and at Breakthrough #26 it all came out and I became a man I know I'm not...
They say that you should never try and outmatch an evil individual because they will bring you down to their level and beat you with their experience...
I said some things and Iser got to me and in the end, I allowed myself to let him slip through my fingers. It was a moment that aided Iser in his fight against me...Hell, it's made this I Quit match 2-on-1. It's Seth Iser and The Devil on Owen Gonsalves' Shoulder versus Owen Gonsalves.
I can't go against my morals again like I did at Breakthrough #26. Old Scratch always told me to hold my morals tight and no matter what anybody else says...as long as I still believe it, I should stand by and defend those morals. We both share similar morals and it was only a week or two ago I spoke to him in search of advice.
"My boy, this man has no boundaries keeping him from doing more harm to your family. He's a dangerous individual, you know that very well as does his old nemesis, Matthew Slater...The poor lad cracked under the weight of Iser and his ability to show no mercy. You've got to hold on to your morals...you can't crack like Slater did."
That was what I had taken out of our last conversation. A man who was a hardly mentioned name when you speak of the career of Owen Gonsalves, played such a pivotal part and would continue on to even after his inevitable passing just a few days ago. He hated to be in the limelight after his retirement nearly a two decades ago but little did he know I've made sure he always has been. I'm the legacy of Dominic Hatcher...I've got to carry on his teachings and the way he went about the world of wrestling.
The box that lays on my hotel bed is one that has sat there ever since I returned from Michigan. I went home for a few days to visit my passing trainer to where he handed me a box that he asked for me to open when I came home...
I had no energy to face whatever was in that box and restart the mourning of a great man who created someone who was supposed to do great things. I take major pride in calling him the man that created me because while my parents made me the person I am for the first 13 years of my life...for the last 13 years Dominic Hatcher has made me the wrestler I am. Im sitting on one of the chairs in this room just staring at the box...my mind is swinging back and forth, questioning whether or not I should open it before finally I get up and waltz over to it.
My hands start to shake slowly as I back away from it like it's some sort of magical box that intimidates me...I mean I'm certainly not far off.
"Fuck it." I utter as I rip the box open in anger and frustration and pull out it's contents.
My body shakes again as I hold up that moment I told you about earlier...this is my aid, this is what is going to carry me through the match...win, lose or draw.
The patriotic ring gear of the United Kingdom's professional wrestling son...The infamous red, white and blue boots that he used to stomp faces, the white trunks with the Union Jack plastered on the rear and then the jacket...the ring jacket that is plastered in the Union Jack. He was so proud of home country, THAT was his big moral that he held tight and until he breathed his final breath, he held onto it tight.
I must do so now too. With one quick motion I rip off my shirt...maybe in excitement, maybe in shock, maybe in a mix of both. Grabbing the jacket I can't help myself and slip it onto my shoulders before walking into the bathroom and glaring back at my reflection in the mirror...for a second there's a flicker in my reflection, moments where I look like Old Scratch himself.
A smile slips over my face, shocking myself before a chill comes over my body as I run my hand over the sleeves on the jacket, pressing out the wrinkles. I have a name to live up to now...Old Scratch wore this very jacket with pride, I'll be damned if I don't do the same, it'd be the only way I can honor him
...But there's added fright in knowing that if I let myself slip and my old self shows...It'd disgrace the colors I'd now wear.
So I can't. I can't go against my morals but I AM going against Seth Iser, and I will stretch my morals if I have to in order to squeeze those two words out of Seth Iser.
For Vanessa...
For Ryan...
For my family...
For VoW...
For Old Scratch...
Seth Iser will learn that I...can't...be...destroyed.
~FADE~
