Post by Katie Moicelle on Jul 14, 2015 14:03:09 GMT -6
A lot of people tell me I shouldn't be here, telling me I don't have the build to wrestle. You might say that, too. In fact, I'll give you five seconds to tell me.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Do you feel better about yourself? Even if you don't, I'll just tell you that natural athleticism can get you really far. It's gotten me two wins against Steve Herring, three if you count my very first match where I kicked him down and Patrick Jones pinned him, but that's history as it currently stands. I don't much like to talk about my first rivalry, it brings out a type of lethality in me. No, I want to delve further back, before I joined Visionaries of Wrestling, as lovely of a story as that may seem. It all started with another phone call and another way of asking if I could do this.
Mrs. Montes:
"For the seventh time, Kathryne, you are not driving all the way to Saint Paul to join a wrestling company. If anything, I want you starting smaller."
Mr. Montes (in the background): "Or more local."
Mrs. Montes:
"Yes, or more local."
Katie:
"Mom, I have public noteriety back home, and I don't want to ruin that by wrestling close to home. You know I love to travel, anyway."
Mrs. Montes:
"Kathryne, that's not the point. Who cares if you start wrestling? Just don't travel a long way to Minnesota. You don't even have the money to afford a full tank of gas in your car."
Katie:
"Not yet. Mom, don't worry, I've got this. Besides, no one in Crossville's offering me a contract to wrestle. No one in Knoxville or Nashville, either, not that I expected anyone to. I'm honestly surprised that anyone knows my name in Saint Paul, let alone someone running an entire company."
No answer for about 8 seconds.
Katie:
"Are you still there, Mom?"
Mrs. Montes:
"Just do what you feel is best, dear. I love you."
Before I could say it back, she hung up, clearly upset. I thought my reasons for leaving were valid, but hindsight's usually 20/20. A few days later, about an hour after Mom left for work, I tried to tell Dad, and he was far more mellow.
Mr. Montes:
"Now, look, I'm not saying don't do what you want, because I couldn't care less what you do, just as long as you aren't breaking the law or hurting yourself. However, your mother is correct in that Saint Paul is a long way from home. A really long way."
Katie:
"I fully understand that."
Mr. Montes:
"You already have my approval, 'cuz a career like wrestling pays extremely well. But, before you start wrestling, I think you should get a second job so you have enough money to even get to Saint Paul."
Katie:
"Or, I could just fly there, it wouldn't take nearly as long."
Mr. Montes:
"Right, right."
A few seconds of vomit-inducing silence.
"How would you get around when you get there?"
Katie:
"Rental car, public transportation, and eventually I'll buy my own car."
Mr. Montes:
"Ok, but how will you eat? Cars are really expensive, and the company travels a lot, meaning you'd be travelling a lot."
Katie:
"They do?"
Mr. Montes:
"Yep. Been watching VoW since they came on the air about 9 months ago. They travel a lot around the north, dang ol' yankees."
Katie:
"Room service, then. Gas stations when necessary."
Mr. Montes:
"That's the answer I was looking for, dear."
Yep, he was far more mellow, still is to this day. So, with dad's blessing (and mom's permission soon after,) I was on my way. Of course, I still call them whenever I can.
All of that before I even left home. For me, that was a mouthful. Everyone knows of the story of when I actually left, when I got to the hotel, and thought that Feolan O'Hannigain guy was going to make mince meat of me, that's all recorded. Luckily, he was eliminated immediately, and I was alive. Might I say, that's quite a way to follow Pink Floyd's advice and leave the kid alone, right?
Right?
Anyway, that match proved to me that I did belong here, even though I lost. My build doesn't matter, but my athleticism and quick learning does.
I hate to end this story here, because I love to tell stories like a fisherman, and by ending here I come off as bland, but with time comes skill at story-telling. Who knows, it might be a running joke one day. Actually no, I'd rather not have that be a joke.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Do you feel better about yourself? Even if you don't, I'll just tell you that natural athleticism can get you really far. It's gotten me two wins against Steve Herring, three if you count my very first match where I kicked him down and Patrick Jones pinned him, but that's history as it currently stands. I don't much like to talk about my first rivalry, it brings out a type of lethality in me. No, I want to delve further back, before I joined Visionaries of Wrestling, as lovely of a story as that may seem. It all started with another phone call and another way of asking if I could do this.
Mrs. Montes:
"For the seventh time, Kathryne, you are not driving all the way to Saint Paul to join a wrestling company. If anything, I want you starting smaller."
Mr. Montes (in the background): "Or more local."
Mrs. Montes:
"Yes, or more local."
Katie:
"Mom, I have public noteriety back home, and I don't want to ruin that by wrestling close to home. You know I love to travel, anyway."
Mrs. Montes:
"Kathryne, that's not the point. Who cares if you start wrestling? Just don't travel a long way to Minnesota. You don't even have the money to afford a full tank of gas in your car."
Katie:
"Not yet. Mom, don't worry, I've got this. Besides, no one in Crossville's offering me a contract to wrestle. No one in Knoxville or Nashville, either, not that I expected anyone to. I'm honestly surprised that anyone knows my name in Saint Paul, let alone someone running an entire company."
No answer for about 8 seconds.
Katie:
"Are you still there, Mom?"
Mrs. Montes:
"Just do what you feel is best, dear. I love you."
Before I could say it back, she hung up, clearly upset. I thought my reasons for leaving were valid, but hindsight's usually 20/20. A few days later, about an hour after Mom left for work, I tried to tell Dad, and he was far more mellow.
Mr. Montes:
"Now, look, I'm not saying don't do what you want, because I couldn't care less what you do, just as long as you aren't breaking the law or hurting yourself. However, your mother is correct in that Saint Paul is a long way from home. A really long way."
Katie:
"I fully understand that."
Mr. Montes:
"You already have my approval, 'cuz a career like wrestling pays extremely well. But, before you start wrestling, I think you should get a second job so you have enough money to even get to Saint Paul."
Katie:
"Or, I could just fly there, it wouldn't take nearly as long."
Mr. Montes:
"Right, right."
A few seconds of vomit-inducing silence.
"How would you get around when you get there?"
Katie:
"Rental car, public transportation, and eventually I'll buy my own car."
Mr. Montes:
"Ok, but how will you eat? Cars are really expensive, and the company travels a lot, meaning you'd be travelling a lot."
Katie:
"They do?"
Mr. Montes:
"Yep. Been watching VoW since they came on the air about 9 months ago. They travel a lot around the north, dang ol' yankees."
Katie:
"Room service, then. Gas stations when necessary."
Mr. Montes:
"That's the answer I was looking for, dear."
Yep, he was far more mellow, still is to this day. So, with dad's blessing (and mom's permission soon after,) I was on my way. Of course, I still call them whenever I can.
All of that before I even left home. For me, that was a mouthful. Everyone knows of the story of when I actually left, when I got to the hotel, and thought that Feolan O'Hannigain guy was going to make mince meat of me, that's all recorded. Luckily, he was eliminated immediately, and I was alive. Might I say, that's quite a way to follow Pink Floyd's advice and leave the kid alone, right?
Right?
Anyway, that match proved to me that I did belong here, even though I lost. My build doesn't matter, but my athleticism and quick learning does.
I hate to end this story here, because I love to tell stories like a fisherman, and by ending here I come off as bland, but with time comes skill at story-telling. Who knows, it might be a running joke one day. Actually no, I'd rather not have that be a joke.
