Post by Patrick Jones on Mar 27, 2016 22:58:52 GMT -6
Windsor, Ontario, Canada is an interesting location for a show titled “Nothing Else Matters.” Across the Detroit River from Detroit, Michigan, there is a sharp contrast with the struggling neighbor. Detroit’s struggles are well-known, yet Windsor is seen as one of the cities most likely to thrive economically in North America. The only obvious difference between the two is one is in Canada while the other in the United States of America. So what is it that matters for them that has set them on such different courses? Geographical location, economic basis, demographic makeup, and most other factors appear identical. Just like this PPV, what really matters seems to be a question mark.
Ambiguity makes the title all the more personable. A title might be all that matters. The difference in victory or defeat might be all that matters. The important piece of the puzzle could even be something as simple as personal pride. Or maybe, just maybe, someone does not even need to impress anyone. Maybe all that matters to one person in VoW is feeling that things are getting back to normal.
When your last two matches have ended as brutally as Patrick Jones’s have, just being able to walk out of the ring without a referee helping you along can be a nice change. After passing out to the pain of Kelsey Spencer’s trademark Kelsey Cloverleaf, one can understand the desire to being conscious at the end of a contest. A week off to recuperate was followed with a failed tag team with Owen Gonsalves that saw PJ have Talon’s boot tread imprinted on his face. He may have been conscious at the conclusion of the match, but it was not a steady frame of mind.
For a man whose history is so rocky, these past few weeks have been an unquestionable aberration. Unfortunately, the difference is that they were especially negative. His competitive spirit and all-around abilities allow him to contest tight matches week-in and week-out, even if his record indicates that those affairs do normally end poorly for Jones. So how does Jones try to find himself on the upswing like Windsor and not quickly becoming a set of ruins like Detroit? It may be dreary, but seeing where you are possibly headed can be a stern warning.
“Two different worlds…”
Looking back and forth between the two cities, separated only by a river, the contrasts are obvious. The Odette Sculpture Park of Windsor displays beautiful, if not abstract or queer, works by local artists. On the other side of the river, Detroit’s skyline looms ominous and foreboding. The American city seems to lack the passion of life, while Canadian soil practically bursts with it.
“Maybe it’s time to take a bite out of what Canada has to offer.”
The joke is made to no one but himself. Everyone who cannot hear him should be appreciative as Jones takes a quick picture with his smartphone of a particular sculpture that is of a hand holding up an apple with a single bite out of it. Fortunately, this apple has no worm in it, so the biter will not have to waste the rest of the fruit. As Jones looks around at the many other pieces, his mind wanders ahead to the show. He walks over to another piece and takes a seat between a small group of stone penguins.
“It seems fitting that a man so known for his past always finds himself facing faces from it. Tristan Ambrose has apparently pulled himself out of whatever leave of absence his former employers caused him to drift into. His fortunes have been less than pleasant though with those two losses, don’t ya think guys?”
PJ looks around to the surrounding artificial, flightless birds. With a grin that would assure anyone watching that Jones is not crazy, just merely making the most of a solo trip to the park, he looks out to the river.
“Right now, we are on the same raft-ride, but one of us is about to take a turn upstream. It is easiest to go downstream with the flow, but that only leads to ruin and automotive failure. All that matters to me is getting that chance. I wonder if that’s what Ambrose has in mind…or maybe he prefers the path of least resistance. Guess we’ll find out…”
With a rub of the nearest penguins head, Jones stands up and begins to walk off along the river. His gaze keeps going back and forth between the two cities. The grin fades into a look as stony as those of his previous faux avian company. He may not be at his best, but Jones is surely focused on what matters to him.