“The night started off so nicely. The plan was to meet for dinner and drinks followed by a festive night of dancing. It’s obvious from my present state of mind that things, somewhere along the line, went wrong. It’s obvious that the evening started out with the best of intentions, but by the time the curtain was called I was far from where I thought I’d be.”
It was a Tuesday; we had decided to meet a couple of old friends up in Boston for dinner and some drinks. It was supposed to be a nice getaway before I headed back to India. I had never heard of the restaurant but it had been given rave reviews according to a friend. The drive was long, but rather uneventful, surprising for I-95, particularly through Connecticut. We even found a street level parking spot less than a block from the restaurant. For a Tuesday, the restaurant was rather full, thankfully we had thought ahead and booked our reservations days ago. We were seated downstairs in what appeared to be an old basement, recently renovated into a separate dining room. The atmosphere between the two levels was quite noticeable. Upstairs, it didn’t matter where you were seated because the views from any of the windows showed the Boston skyline. Being so close to the street meant that passersbies became just another focal point for the hungry diners. Downstairs was a completely different story. Cool and dark, the room was large and oddly shaped. It was almost as if they had thought of one design and changed minds halfway through the construction process. Small tables were scattered amongst the larger tables, which were able to accommodate more guests than any of those located a floor above. It took my eyes a few moments before they were able to grow accustomed to the low level of light and the strange odor of a cold Boston night mixed with the unmistakable aroma of freshly cooked garlic.
We had been seated for mere moments when our waitress appeared at my left elbow like a ninja from the shadows. Stifling a laugh, my companions and I ordered our meals and a round of drinks. We talked for what felt like hours waiting for our meals. I had begun to assume that we had been forgotten since we had been seated down in the bowels of the restaurant. I looked around and the room had cleared out save for a young couple in the far corner and a solitary looking gentleman drinking a pint at the makeshift bar near the bathrooms. Our eyes met and for some reason our gaze didn’t break as quickly as most glances do with strangers. A harmless glance around the room had progressed into a stare-down. I wasn’t exactly sure why I wouldn’t just look away, perhaps it was my male ego acting or perhaps it was something else; something just didn’t feel right about the man. The impromptu contest was broken as the line of sight blurred with the approach of our waitress carrying a large tray of our dinners.
As hungry as we were, we ate in near silence. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being stared at again. I didn’t want to be obvious and turn around, and risk looking like I wanted trouble, so I tried my best to see what was behind me using the reflection in my friend’s glasses sitting in front of me. He had just begun a funny story about a hunting trip he took in Alberta so he wasn’t making for the best mirror. I shook the feelings from my head and tried my best to enjoy my meal and company. Three or four Diet Cokes later and it was time to visit the men’s room. Up until this point I had almost forgotten about the man at the bar, that is until I passed by him on my way to the restroom. Again, our eyes met and although I looked away, I felt his eyes burn into my back as I pushed open the door to the bathroom.
The thing about restaurant bathrooms is this; if you’re at a restaurant that has any kind of romantic ambiance then chances are your table is covered in candles, the room is lit by candles and the basic soft light feel is carried out all over the room. Bathrooms, by default, don’t use this same idea. Apparently the last thing people want is to have a hard time seeing where they take a piss. But what do I know?. If you ask me, bathroom ambiance may take away from the rancid odor that seems to permeate out from every crack and crevice. So at some point in the history of restaurant bathrooms it was decided that these specialty rooms must be lit by the harshest, most blindingly disgusting fluorescent lights. These lights don’t even glow white; you know the color that they give off … that yellow filtered glow that casts everything in the room with a sickly color. So there I stood, blinking and waiting for my eyes to readjust to the lighting and trying hard not to breathe through either my nose or mouth because the smell makes you want to vomit and the idea of breathing through your mouth in a public bathroom does the same.
There are few things in this world that make a man more aware of his surroundings than when he is in a restroom. Exposed and open to the world a man becomes the master of his environment, which is why I felt him in the room before I even turned around. There are moments in our life which define us; moments where we show our true selves. Unbeknownst to me, this was one of those moments. As I turned I could see him, standing there. Behind him my own reflection smiled back. I remember a witty remark about waiting for an autograph unless he had a snow bank but the rest was a blur. There was an insult, a swing and then … red.
There was so much red. For a moment I assumed that the fluorescent lights overhead had been burnt out, or someone had set off a fire alarm. The red seemed to just cover everything from the walls to … his face. I couldn’t control myself. For too long I had lived away from that lifestyle, at least when I was away from the arena, away from what I had always thought of as necessary violence. I was striking without thinking. I moved with the fluidity of liquid fury. Rights and lefts blurred into a red haze. Knees and elbows expertly found their marks. In these moments, my wrestling left me and my muay thai come out. In the end I remember being pulled from a kneeling position. The bartender was pulling me backwards towards the door as a waiter began throwing up at the sight of the man on the floor. The next several hours were spent in and out of consciousness. I remember spurts and blurbs, mere moments and fragments. Small things stood out in my mind though; five teeth knocked out, broken jaw, twenty stitches to close the wound, internal bleeding. Then there were those that I had hoped to forget; assault and battery, deadly weapon, intent to injure, and fifteen to twenty.
I awoke in a cell the next morning as a louding, booming and… familiar voice echoed through the room with a thick Boston accent.
“Davison! Get over he-ah. Bail’s been paid.”I notice the guard’s stern expression, though his eyes seem purposefully covered by the shadow coming from the hat’s visor. I walk closer and a sly smile crosses the guard’s face.
“Son of a bitch! Sully?!”His initial response is non-verbal. He simply lays his hand flat and lowers it, telling me to cool it.
“Yah, dude. But ahm workin’ he-ah,” he says with a whisper.
I had to respect that. I hadn’t seen Sully since we were kids 32 years ago.
’Holy shit! I left 32 years ago?’ Letting that fact sink in, I’m somewhat shocked he remembered me.
He nods to the guard on the outside and a loud thunk is heard as the door is opened from the other side, accompanied by a horrible buzz that indicates the door is open.
He pushes me through the door, I would guess as more of a show for the prisoners left behind than as an actual show of force. As soon as the unmistakable sound of a several inch thick metal door closing behind you, his entire demeanor changes.
“The fahk happened to you, dude? I ain’t seen yah ass since june-yah high.”“Got out, brother. I got tired of all my mother’s bullshit. After running the streets for a few years, I managed to get myself adopted. Just got married, got a stepdaughter. I did okay for myself, all things considered.” Knowing our time together is extremely limited.
“Not surprised you ended up here. Keeping up the family business, I see.”“Somethin’ like that.” Sully grunts as he stops at an open door.
“Your belongings are inside. Get changed and come sit against the wall until another guard gets you.” Sully begins walking back to his post, but stops and looks back.
“Don’t let me see you in he-ah again.”Sully walks off, getting buzzed through the large door that he had just marched my sorry ass through. I wait about 15 minutes, seeing numerous men and women doing the walk of shame that I more than likely did last night. Finally, they call for me and I walk to a door on the other side of the room as the intake. As seems to be the process, I hear a buzzing sound announcing the unlocking of the door, which I enter and stagger over to, hungry and tired, to collect my paperwork. I look up, hearing the yelling from the otherside of the door.
“I don’t care; I’m getting in there to see him!”I almost smile when I realize who the voice belongs to. Well, I would have smiled if I had the energy or capacity for that, or any, emotion.
“Don’t you realize who I am?”’Please don’t get arrested. Please don’t get arrested.’The thought repeats in my head knowing how stressed my wife must be. I hope that her temper doesn’t get the better of her because one of us getting thrown in the clink was bad enough. They give me my paperwork and open the door. Before I can fully get into the room, Kyra jumps into my arms. I feel like I am going to collapse, but somehow manage to catch her as she wraps her arms and legs around me.
“Hey there, stranger.”“Hey, mama.”Kyra passionately kisses me, but using all of my energy to stand up, I can’t kiss her back. She hops down to the floor while the door closes loudly behind me, literally hitting me on the ass on the way out. I look up at a man I hadn’t seen since the trial of Crystal’s killer… that was a place I didn’t want to go back to, but here I was living the dream.
“Listen champ, we’ve met under better conditions before but I heard about what happened…”“Better circumstances? The last time I say you I was morning my dead fiancee and child. You want to sit here and really tell me those were better circumstances?”“Well, still sumbitch did get put in…”His voice trailed off, or maybe my mind did. Either way I stopped listening to what he was saying and started taking notice of what he was doing. Absent-mindedly, he was fiddling with the ring on his right hand; his right hand? Last I knew Azar was a married man.
“Anyway, I’ve gotten all of the charges dropped. Some guy went into the bathroom as that dude was swinging. The bar sent the surveillance of the guy following you into the shitter…”He stands there waiting for an answer from me. I sit there trying to think of a way to make sense of the feelings brimming just below the surface. I feel as though I’m barely holding myself together as it is. I can only think it over and slowly nod my head as I stand to my feet. I make the four foot stretch between myself and the nearest bench. I fall down, exhausted.
“We need to get you back to the hotel,” Kyra says with concern.
“Where’d you find this guy, anyway?” I ask in a brief moment of clarity.
“I remembered it from when you told me about… well, you know.”Kyra reaches into her pocketbook and pulls out her checkbook.
“This one’s on the house. Ken literally made my practice. It would be stealing if I took that now.”’A decent lawyer,’ I say internally. At least, I think I said it internally.
“I’ll be damned.”That’s the last thing I remember before falling asleep in Kyra’s arms.
I am pacing on the navy blue, baby blue and white tiles that cover the top of the basin surrounding the statue of Subhas Chandra Bose, located directly outside of the Netaji Indoor Stadium. The color of the tiles matches the color scheme of the building. As such, I’ve chosen to a blue collar and matching tinted glasses with my priest’s robes. There is a small crowd, some of the people recognizing me from the various flyers around town, while others are simply taking in the small spectacle I am creating. Not wanting to waste this moment, I have summoned the Sin City Wrestling film crew to document this experience.
“I was once a criminal.” I say, looking into the crowd to gauge their reaction.
“I wasn’t the type of criminal that was known for all kinds of nefarious things. Still, I was a criminal. I was breaking into stores, breaking into people’s homes, not because I wanted to take their things. I was doing these things because I simply wanted to eat.”“You see, before I was a criminal, I was a child. In fact, you could argue that at the tender age of 12, I was still a lawyer while I was a criminal. Still, I chose to separate the two because I was a good child. But, I was a good child in a bad place. I moved around from place to place to place to place as my mother moved around from man to man to man to man because of bad choice after bad choice out of bad choice after bad choice. So I made the choice to leave that situation. I made the choice to live on the streets of Boston, Massachusetts, back home in the United States because being in a broken home was better than being in an abusive one. Prior to that, I have been a number of other things. I was a child model. I played football. I ran track. I even played God, once, in a youth group play. I guess you can figure out where I got the idea for all of this.”I stop pacing and turns directly to face my improvisational congregation, making certain that all eye are on me.
“Here and now, at this moment, I am “Godly” Ken Davison and I am a professional wrestler.”I pause again, creating suspense. Three… Two… now…
“Very recently, I was in jail for the first time of my life. I was falsely accused of assault when I had very clearly acted in self-defense. Sound familiar?” I look directly at the lens of the camera with a smug expression that one hundred percent guarantees they know I am referring to the infamous ‘Amber Ryan Incident.’
“I was given a stark reminder of what my life could have been, had I continued down the path I was originally on. Would I have survived? Perhaps. Would I have thrived? Certainly not.”“It made me ask myself ‘How do successful individuals get where they are?’ People often look at those who have achieved at a high level as some kind of unique breed or rare talent to be marveled over. In reality, nothing about our success is predetermined. There is no fate. There is no destiny. There is only what we have, what we have tireless fought and scrapped for. You see, being great in any capacity begins small,.. very, very small. It gradually changes, gradually evolves. It is derived from the vision you have of yourself. When I was a child wondering the streets, I couldn’t even see myself. I was a bad kid who was convinced that he had little to no future. That’s what I had been told all my life. That is what I was destined to be.”Falling into a rhythm, my words are clear and precise. I begin once again pacing the rim of the fountain’s basin, marching back and forth like the guards outside of Buckingham Palace.
“I was fortunate that I fell into a good home. I was told I was loved and reassured I wasn’t a bad child. I was shown that there was more to my life than eating leftovers out of a dumpster every night. Now, I was in a position where I could have goals because there was a future. Now, I had that vision of myself that I mentioned before. I saw wrestling. I wanted to be a wrestler. I had a vision of myself as a champion and now my reality has become even grander than my dreams. I had a goal I believed intrinsically that I could achieve it. More importantly, I believed that I deserved it. I STILL believe that I deserve it. These thoughts, this belief, is what lights the fires of my success. I constituted my beginning. It carried me throughout my career and has brought me to this moment in my life. You could have this, too.”“Now, as I proceed towards my latest goal, that being the Sin City Wrestling World Championship, my aspirations have never been higher. The biggest challenge I am going to face is not Señor Vinnie or even Mac Bane himself. I know from past experience that I can and more importantly have defeated Mac Bane. I know that I can defeat Señor Vinnie. When I was the Internet Champion, I failed on epic proportions. It was a harsh reminder that my largest struggle isn’t against another wrestler, a new opponent or any other outside force. My biggest obstacle has always been myself.”At this point, I know I’m on a roll. I just have to figure out how to tie this into my match because the more tickets we sell, the more money we will collectively make.
“Señor Vinnie, you are a hell of a competitor in that ring. Your resume speaks for itself. But, should I fail, you will not be the reason. I am the reason that I will succeed. It is not what you are able to do to me in that ring that will determine the outcome. It will be how I impose my will on you. It will be how I endure whatever offense you throw at me. It will be a matter of how prepared I am to face you. Again, I respect you and where you think you are coming from, but what will determine who wins this match will be the GKD, “Godly” Ken Davison and you will ultimately be a non-factor.”“When you think about it, every morning when I get up, I make the decision whether I am going to be positive or negative. I can choose to be optimistic or I can choose to be doubtful. I decide whether or not I am exceptional and believe me, Vinnie, I am the most Kendamned exception wrestler you will find in this company. Everything is in my hands.. When I lost to Goth and watched as he went on to defeat Jack Washington for the Internet Championship, it was not a setback. I chose to seize the moment on the very next show because now I was free to challenge Mac Bane for the World Championship. Was losing to Goth a negative? In the short term, yes, it was. Now, here I am once again on the precipice of greatness because I turned a negative into a positive.”I make a first and thump my chest as I continue.
“Because no one will ever make anything of value happen for you. You need to be the one to believe in yourself when no one else does. I will tell you right now that there are times that it feels impossible to do this. It is always so much easier to conform to the expectations of others. I know that despite my impressive run of late, there are people out there, yourself included, Vinnie, that expect me to lose. They don’t hope. They don’t want. They EXPECT me to lose.”“However, I survived when I hit rock bottom. I overcame my entire world being torn away from me. I have come to damned far to settle for great. I have worked too damned hard to settle for exceptional. I hold myself to a higher standard that you do, Vinnie, regardless of any and all outside circumstances. No matter what happens in this ring, it can be overcome, even when everyone else tells you that it can’t. On Sunday night, I will convince each and every person in that arena, in the corporate office, I will convince each and every man, woman, and child watching at home that I deserve this opportunity against Mac Bane and I will do it beat beating you in the center of the ring, Vinnie… and that will be because I have already convinced the hardest person to convince, that being myself.”’Alright, Ken. You’ve got them hooked. It’s time to shut this shit down.’“Señor Vinnie, when this is all said and done, I will be the man standing in the ring victorious. I will give you the respect you are due, however, up to that point when the bell rings, there is nothing you can do to save yourself. I have the whole world in my hands and those are the Hands of God.”I hold my arms out, getting a decent amount of applause for the crowd I have amassed. I lower my arms and make a slashing motion, telling the camera crew to cut the recording.
