Pride
“You never really learn much from hearing yourself speak.” ― George Clooney
{Unnamed location somewhere in Las Vegas - “People just never learn”}
One of the things that I’ve found even more challenging than winning matches is avoiding the conflict when someone realizes where you are from. In my case, being from Texas presents a whole lot of unique issues. As you’ll see, it is often the thing that lands me in trouble or in a fistfight. There are normally two assumptions that are made about people from Texas. The first one is always that you’re some kind of racist, neo-nazi, or even worse, a Trump supporter. Those last two are usually used with the same meaning, people are funny that way sometimes. So as I promised my old friend Jeff Castello, I was at a bar having a drink. I was doing my best to mind my own business and not attract too much attention. I realized too late that wearing my black stetson was probably not the best way to go. A slender man, about my height, approached with a slight swagger to his gait. I could hear his friends egging him on and I sighed. The bartender shook his head, as he’d seen this unfold before. This was not my first time in this bar as you might have guessed. The person in question was already drunk and just itching for a fight.
So, to cut to the chase I try to head him off from making a mistake. “How about I buy you a drink and talk to you for a moment about the mistake you’re about to make?” He looked at me as a deer looks at the headlights of an oncoming truck. “A Mistake,” he scoffed. “Where are you from son?” He asked it in a pointed way. “Yep, here we go. I’m from the south.” He looked at me like I was stupid and that cracked me up. “I know that you dumb bastard, which state? You’re obviously not from around here.” I nodded and handed the bartender who I just called Joe. I didn’t know his actual name but he always answered it. “Joe hold on to my card for a minute, in case there are damages.” He nodded and backed away from the bar in case of flying objects. “Okay dumbass, you got me, I’m from Texas.” He sneered at me and I told him, “Don’t say it.” He barked a laugh, “The only thing that comes from Texas are steers, and …” He never got to finish the statement as I clocked him with a backhand that knocked him out on contact with the point of his jaw.
The entire table of his friends and their collective girlfriends stood up at that point, but I was already on my feet. “Now then,” I began slowly, “Please come get your friend and let’s part ways in a peaceful manner, shall we?” They all looked dumbstruck, one of the men came forward and helped his friend to his feet. It was one of the women that caught me by surprise when she asked me, “Where’s your horse, Tex?” I shook my head in disgust, “He’s between my legs, but your too fat to ride.” The place fell silent as the men tried to decide if it was worth the fight or not. That is unfortunately where the accusations of being a racist started. Turned out that the young woman in question was half Latino. Her “man” had been the one I knocked out. “Fucking racist pig, you must be one of those Trump supporters, probably a member of the Klan to aintcha?” I stood there with my hands on my hips, I shouldn’t have been surprised, this happens way too often.
“I’m sorry Joe, I was trying for a peaceful resolution. I heard Joe sigh behind me, “I know Mac, I know. Shall I call the cops now?” I chuckled, “you might as well, this one is gonna be a bit dicey.” That is when the woman kicked me in the balls and all hell broke loose. While I was doubled over clutching the family jewels, two of the men rushed in. They were trying to beat me to the ground, most likely in an attempt to start kicking me. I was able to hold my ground on one knee. It’s one of the advantages of being six foot six inches and weighing a biscuit shy of three hundred pounds. I slowly rose up against their constant pounding of the back of my head and shoulders. I finally stood up straight and the look of fear on their faces was priceless. “You do realize that being from Texas is not a crime, right?” The young woman spit at my feet, “Fucking Trumper, go home.” I shook my head, “Girl you should go home and sober up.” She swung at me and I easily blocked it and grabbed her wrists. The track marks were easy to see, she then swung with the other arm. Same thing, track marks. I let go of her wrists, there’s nothing I can say to her that will change her mind while she’s strung out on whatever it is that she’s using.
All four men, now having caught their breath came to her aid. Not that she needed any help, she was in no danger. There was a fifth man that lurked towards the back of the room and he slipped outside. That hit me, these fuckers had to be working for Spatharos. “Look, I don’t know why you are working for Francis, but when you see him, tell him his secrets are safe.” The look of shock on their faces was priceless. “This could have ended very badly for you.” I hesitated only briefly as I reached back and withdrew the nine-millimeter pistol stored there. They all retreated very quickly. “Don’t panic, I’m not gonna shoot you.” I shook my head and holstered my pistol as the police started to arrive. There would be statements to give and lots of accusations and questions to answer. “I’m getting too old for this shit.” It always seemed to do down that way when people find out you’re from Texas. At least this time I didn’t get stabbed.
Fade
{in-studio - unnamed location - “Back to the basics”}
The crisp feel of the studio and the lack of any echoes or background noises are a relief in a world full of noise. Everyone promoting their sense of self-entitlement, the bravado coming from people that couldn’t win a spelling bee with cue cards much less a wrestling match.
“Where to even begin, recently my brother in arms, best friend, and fellow savior beat me for the Sin City World title. You’ve got no idea how proud I am of him. He was the better man on that night, and my hope is that when I’m done climbing my way back to the top, he’ll still have that title. It won’t be easy for him to hold onto that belt. All you have to do is look at who is in that contenders match to see who is next. I wish you luck my friend, I know in my heart that you’ve got this. I ventured over to Level Up and took part in a tournament for their tag team belts, Page and I fell short in that effort. Obviously, I wished both of those matches had turned out differently, but there’s no time for crying. It’s simply time to step up and start again. It’s my way, some people may be shocked by the fact that I’m not asking for an immediate rematch. There’s a reason for that, it’s really much more simple and more straightforward than you can imagine.” Taking my black stetson off and looking at the brim of it, I smile as I run my fingers across the brim in an attempt to smooth it more to my liking.
“I decided, let me say that louder for those in the back. I decided not to use the rematch clause in my contract. Why do you suppose I would do that? As I said, it’s far more simple than you think. It’s not because I don’t believe that I could win it back. When you look over my complete body of work over the last two years and what I’ve accomplished. It speaks volumes to my ability and relentless nature. I’ve beaten some amazing talent, leaving them so fucking traumatized that they wander off to places like Florida. Sometimes they simply retire and call it a day. I wanted to start back at the bottom and work my way back to the top again, just as I did when I first came to this company. I’m doing this for a couple of reasons. First and foremost, it gives others time to shine. There are so many great competitors in this company that didn’t get that chance to prove themselves. It also is self-serving as well to be fair. It gives me the opportunity to redeem myself. Not to the fans or the roster but to myself. I know it sounds selfish, but sometimes in this business, you have to be selfish and do what’s right for you and no one else.”I set the stetson to the side and on a nearby table. Now I take my leather duster off and carefully fold it, setting it on the back of that same chair.
“In addition to all of that, now that I’m not a champion I can focus on helping to smoke the roaches out of this place. Todd is a minor annoyance and no real threat to anyone except himself. Poor bastard is self-destructive. There are much bigger, full-grown cockroaches that need to be eliminated. I’ve been keeping tabs on certain people in this company and if I could full-on stop the match between Masque and Avalon I would do so in a heartbeat. I consider this match even being sanctioned as a black mark on this company. I’ve faced Ava before and I know she’s capable but Masque is like no one she could ever face. I’ve tried to warn her but it fell on deaf ears. It seems that she and her original trainer are not that different.”Shaking my head, I sigh loudly and chuckle softly.
“When I asked Todd on Twitter if he was ready for this match, I received nothing but crickets in return. Others had plenty to say and while amusing, not really relevant since they weren’t invited to the conversation. It’s an open platform though, so no complaints really. As you might have guessed, like most of the roster I have zero respect for you. It’s not because of how obnoxious you are, that’s a given considering the hag you married. No, this is about you needing help winning every match that you’ve won. In this match, she won’t be a factor, I can promise you that. You see, I have a new agent within Chronic Chris Page Enterprises, you and your wife are already familiar with her. Her name is Kat Jones. If your wife sticks her nose in this match, Kat will be there to make sure that nose gets broken, you feel me, kid? That is not a game you want to play with me and mine. The Saviors are family, we look out for each other, and most importantly we don’t need to interfere in each other's matches to win.”I remove the cuff links from my starched white shirt and put them in my pocket. With the links removed, I begin rolling up the sleeves of my shirt. It exposes the scars on my arms that are mostly covered by my tattoo sleeves.
“I’m showing you this so you understand who and more importantly what you are getting in the ring with. Every scar tells a story, Todd, a story of brutality and tenacity. A story of a man, who took no shit from anyone at any time in his life. It tells the story of Mac Bane. By the time you and I are done, you’ll understand that facing me is the last thing you ever want to do again in this lifetime or any other. I am a three-time world champion in Sin City Wrestling. I am also an educator and a mentor to many.
You’re welcome”
