Post by Rogan MacLean on Jun 4, 2022 21:08:02 GMT -5
May 31, 2022
Gulf Shores, Alabama
They carried the last of their things as they walked across the street from the condo parking lot. A black Newmar Essex RV sat idle on the side of the road. A silver and gold cyclone pattern swept across its side. The RV itself was humongous.
Rogan turned to Lucy as they finished packing their things into the RV.
“There’s no turning back, now, Ms. Wylde.”
She smiled and looked over her shoulder at the condo, and specifically, beyond that, the beach and the ocean.
“Like we told Trayvon, we’ll be back. This isn’t goodbye, remember? This is, see you later.”
“True enough.”
He paused, taking in the salty air.
“There’s a sort of anxiety about change, isn’t there? About coming to the end of one chapter, and beginning another? There’s a ball of nervousness that grows a little in your stomach. You don’t want to acknowledge it, but it’s there.”
“Trust me, I know it,” she said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “But sometimes change is good. You know how you’re always telling me not to be afraid of trying new things and taking chances?”
Rogan turned his attention to her fully.
“Maybe you should take your own advice here. Free yourself from the doubt that your mind is creating for yourself. There is no fate but what we make for ourselves.”
He smiled then, and nodded. Pulling himself up into the Newmar Essex, he gazed out at all of the condos and restaurants that surrounded him. Ten minutes later, they were going north on highway 59, and Gulf Shores was behind them. New adventures awaited.
I haven’t spoken to you much about what happened to me. In fact, I don’t think I have at all.
There was a time in my life where I did a lot of traveling. But one instance in particular will always stick with me. It will always haunt me.
I often preach about fate. ‘There is no fate but what we make for ourselves.’
Sarah Connor said that and it’s always stayed with me. I’m sure you think she’s just a science fiction character. But, she’s just as real as I am. And she waged a war with fate.
Sometimes fate is chaos.
April 12, 2010
Synergy #2
About a week after I closed the door at the San Jose facility, I was still expecting a very brief stay in this… well, at the time, I thought it was the same dimension, the same reality, just a few thousand miles in the past.
I was still very careful to loom in the shadows. I blended in well before and after Synergy as a member of the ring crew, but I often would sneak up into the rafters and watch the show from overhead, leaning over the rail of the catwalk and gazing down at younger familiar faces. That would almost get me into trouble, but that’s another story for another day. It also would earn me the nickname ‘The Dark Man.’
I’ll bet you thought that moniker was a self-proclamation. In a way, it was. But fate, like time, is funny in my world.
I helped get the ring set up this evening, only my second time as part of the crew, and scurried away to the maintenance access door. Looking around cautiously, I opened it and vanished inside.
There was a staircase immediately beyond the door, and the lights back there were dim. The metal stairs clanked softly, despite how careful I was to make as little noise as possible. I made it to the top, as I would hundreds of times after, without being noticed.
Looking down at the ring below, a dull sense of homesickness began to sweep over me. I wanted to be home, where I belonged. I knew that sulking about it wouldn’t get me there any faster. So, I watched.
And this was the first time I watched Dave Rydell.
Only, he called himself Red Fusion.
He was facing Forewell Boding, a fella I hadn’t ever come in contact with. And it seemed like Donovan Hastings was on commentary.
I chuckled to myself.
“I feel like I’m watching a re-run,” I said to myself. Ironically, I was. That made my grin spread wider.
Dave was the LWF World Champion at the time.
I watched the match with interest, and speculated like a wrestling fan (because I was), figuring that Hastings and Fusion were on a collision course at an upcoming big event. If I had been watching this on television rather than live, it would have been confirmed by commentary right around the same time I was thinking it.
Red Fusion lost by disqualification. He let his emotions overtake him and instead of getting what looked like a well-earned victory, he sent a message to Hastings. And that message was…
You’re smarter than me. I can’t keep my emotions in check, and I can’t collect my thoughts enough to properly strategize a victory over my own emotions, let alone my opponent.
Dave Rydell, or Red Fusion, is a victim of his emotions even now. It’s just who he is.
But I’ve always liked him. And I’ve always wanted to see him succeed.
June 4, 2022
Blackhawk Valley Campground
Rockford, Illinois
The sun was setting. It was past nine o’clock and the sky was a hazy shade of blue and gray. The Dark Man and the Dark Lady were sitting at a campfire they had just stoked. The black RV loomed behind them, like a mechanical monster.
They had been sitting there for a long time in silence, enjoying the sound of the Kish River and the nature that surrounded them. Lucy didn’t think she had ever seen so many cardinals as she did here in Blackhawk Valley. She wondered how the locals would feel about a Chicago Cardinals team.
Perhaps not very positively. On the other hand, didn’t the Chicago Cardinals exist at one time in American football?
She stifled a laugh. American football. It was a term Rogan used a lot when he talked about it. And she must have adopted it.
“Beautiful out here, isn’t it?”
He pulled her abruptly out of her thoughts. She gazed at him, taking off her sunglasses, and nodded. They both leaned comfortably in their chairs.
“The Gulf is beautiful,” he said, looking out at the trees. “But there’s more beauty to be found that I’ve neglected.”
“You can find beauty anywhere, Rogan, if your eyes are open to it.”
He nodded, looking around at the campground.
“Aye. So you can,” he said. There was some wisdom veiled behind his simple response. He looked out thoughtfully.
“You and Montague put on quite a show Monday.”
“Aye,” she mocked playfully. “So we did.”
His eyes narrowed on her and she grinned at him innocently. “What?”
He gave her what she had begun to identify as ‘the Rogan look’ where he just stared at her with no expression. She giggled, like she usually did when he gave her the look.
“I’m wondering what Mr. Somers will do to handle the situation,” he said.
“Well, I imagine he’ll handle it as fairly as he can,” Lucy replied, and she knew what she was doing. A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as Rogan turned his head away from her. He was loading up. She covered her mouth and leaned to the side, hiding her smirk.
“Jet will do whatever it is that he thinks he can piggyback off of and make it seem like whatever good comes out of it couldn’t have been accomplished without his input. And then pat himself on the back for it afterwards.”
Still smiling, Lucy shook her head. Rogan thought back to the Jet he came to know in the doorway. He sighed.
“That was wrong,” he said quietly. “Jet isn’t really like that.”
“I know,” Lucy said, patting his hand with hers and getting up from her chair.
“Where are you going?”
“To get the marshmallows. You want a s’more?”
“Some more of what?”
She paused, making sure he wasn’t messing with her.
“No, I meant, do you want a s’more?”
He stared at her, amused.
“I haven’t had anything yet.”
Lucy rolled her eyes and glared at him.
“So how can I have some more of nothing?”
Now it was his turn to grin.
“This is where you’re supposed to say, ‘You’re killing me, Smalls!’”
She shook her head and turned back to the RV.
“Perhaps you should watch that movie, Ms. Wylde. It’s an American classic, I’ve heard.”
The RV’s door slammed shut in response. He chuckled and settled back into his seat, staring into the fire, alone with his thoughts.
Dave Rydell…
A man whom I’ve never had any personal issues with. A man whom I’ve come to admire, if I’m being completely honest.
But do you respect me as much as I respect you?
I’ve been reflecting on my legacy for about the last year now. And I wonder just exactly what it is in the eyes of my peers.
I say for the last year. But what it’s felt like, is for the last decade. Which can’t be too far off from what you’ve been reflecting on.
You’ve spent twelve years in an on again, off again, relationship with this company. And you are undoubtedly reflecting back on your career at this stage of your life.
I’m at a similar stage, Dave. I’ve been reflecting an awful lot and wondering, am I as big of a deal to this company as I think I am? Am I as big of a deal to this industry as I set out to be?
I can’t answer that.
I know you’re wondering the same things about your peers. So I’ll give you my opinion, because I feel it’s valid.
You don’t need to hear the same tired bullshit about how you get in your own way. Dave Rydell’s worst enemy is himself. I’ve heard similar claims. It’s tiring, isn’t it? It’s tedious. And it’s lazy.
When your enemies start talking about that, it means they’ve nothing creative in their simple little heads that they can talk about. So they’ll take the obvious, the frequently used, and put their own spin on it in some futile attempt to make themselves look original.
I’m not going to do that, Dave. I’m not going to do that because I respect you. I think it’s bullshit, anyway and I don’t agree with it. You’ve poured your soul into this company. Just like Zane Scott. Just like Rogan MacLean. And have you ever had the baton to lead it?
No. They’ve never had the confidence to give Dave Rydell his run at the top of the mountain.
You’ve got my confidence though. From the first moment I watched you back in two thousand ten—or, I mean, two thousand sixteen, when I made my debut, I watched you and I thought, ‘why not that guy?’
I’m not alone in that, either.
I guess it seems kind of bizarre, doesn’t it? Your opponent hyping you up. Not putting you down, but giving you praise for what you’ve done. For what you’re doing. And for what you’re going to do.
I don’t like to be like everyone else.
I guess that was obvious, though.
The fact is, this is how I feel, Dave. I don’t have anything bad to say about you. You’ve had shortcomings, sure. But haven’t we all?
Isn’t most of the adventure chasing our goals?
I don’t want to stand in the way of your destiny, Dave. I really don’t.
But on Monday, I will be. On Monday, I’ll be trying to improve my legacy just as you’re trying to cement yours.
And I respect you. I respect you a lot.
But, I will be approaching you just like Michael Jordan approached his opponents. I’ll wish you good luck. I’ll shake your hand.
And after that?
It doesn’t matter how much I respect you. After that, I’ll be in my zone. And if it means stripping you of your dream to reach mine, then that’s what will happen. I hope you don’t take it personal when I take away the Conquest Championship from you.
I certainly won’t take it personal if I fail. And if I do?
I’ll be rooting for Dave Rydell to finish what he’s started. I’ll be rooting for you to finally capture what’s been eluding you for twelve goddamn years.
The same thing that I have my eyes focused on.
The same thing that Lucy has her eyes focused on.
The UGWC World fucking Championship.
On Monday, Dave… shake the hand that shook the world. And we’ll shake this world one more time on this fateful path.
Gulf Shores, Alabama
They carried the last of their things as they walked across the street from the condo parking lot. A black Newmar Essex RV sat idle on the side of the road. A silver and gold cyclone pattern swept across its side. The RV itself was humongous.
Rogan turned to Lucy as they finished packing their things into the RV.
“There’s no turning back, now, Ms. Wylde.”
She smiled and looked over her shoulder at the condo, and specifically, beyond that, the beach and the ocean.
“Like we told Trayvon, we’ll be back. This isn’t goodbye, remember? This is, see you later.”
“True enough.”
He paused, taking in the salty air.
“There’s a sort of anxiety about change, isn’t there? About coming to the end of one chapter, and beginning another? There’s a ball of nervousness that grows a little in your stomach. You don’t want to acknowledge it, but it’s there.”
“Trust me, I know it,” she said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “But sometimes change is good. You know how you’re always telling me not to be afraid of trying new things and taking chances?”
Rogan turned his attention to her fully.
“Maybe you should take your own advice here. Free yourself from the doubt that your mind is creating for yourself. There is no fate but what we make for ourselves.”
He smiled then, and nodded. Pulling himself up into the Newmar Essex, he gazed out at all of the condos and restaurants that surrounded him. Ten minutes later, they were going north on highway 59, and Gulf Shores was behind them. New adventures awaited.
I haven’t spoken to you much about what happened to me. In fact, I don’t think I have at all.
There was a time in my life where I did a lot of traveling. But one instance in particular will always stick with me. It will always haunt me.
I often preach about fate. ‘There is no fate but what we make for ourselves.’
Sarah Connor said that and it’s always stayed with me. I’m sure you think she’s just a science fiction character. But, she’s just as real as I am. And she waged a war with fate.
Sometimes fate is chaos.
April 12, 2010
Synergy #2
About a week after I closed the door at the San Jose facility, I was still expecting a very brief stay in this… well, at the time, I thought it was the same dimension, the same reality, just a few thousand miles in the past.
I was still very careful to loom in the shadows. I blended in well before and after Synergy as a member of the ring crew, but I often would sneak up into the rafters and watch the show from overhead, leaning over the rail of the catwalk and gazing down at younger familiar faces. That would almost get me into trouble, but that’s another story for another day. It also would earn me the nickname ‘The Dark Man.’
I’ll bet you thought that moniker was a self-proclamation. In a way, it was. But fate, like time, is funny in my world.
I helped get the ring set up this evening, only my second time as part of the crew, and scurried away to the maintenance access door. Looking around cautiously, I opened it and vanished inside.
There was a staircase immediately beyond the door, and the lights back there were dim. The metal stairs clanked softly, despite how careful I was to make as little noise as possible. I made it to the top, as I would hundreds of times after, without being noticed.
Looking down at the ring below, a dull sense of homesickness began to sweep over me. I wanted to be home, where I belonged. I knew that sulking about it wouldn’t get me there any faster. So, I watched.
And this was the first time I watched Dave Rydell.
Only, he called himself Red Fusion.
He was facing Forewell Boding, a fella I hadn’t ever come in contact with. And it seemed like Donovan Hastings was on commentary.
I chuckled to myself.
“I feel like I’m watching a re-run,” I said to myself. Ironically, I was. That made my grin spread wider.
Dave was the LWF World Champion at the time.
I watched the match with interest, and speculated like a wrestling fan (because I was), figuring that Hastings and Fusion were on a collision course at an upcoming big event. If I had been watching this on television rather than live, it would have been confirmed by commentary right around the same time I was thinking it.
Red Fusion lost by disqualification. He let his emotions overtake him and instead of getting what looked like a well-earned victory, he sent a message to Hastings. And that message was…
You’re smarter than me. I can’t keep my emotions in check, and I can’t collect my thoughts enough to properly strategize a victory over my own emotions, let alone my opponent.
Dave Rydell, or Red Fusion, is a victim of his emotions even now. It’s just who he is.
But I’ve always liked him. And I’ve always wanted to see him succeed.
June 4, 2022
Blackhawk Valley Campground
Rockford, Illinois
The sun was setting. It was past nine o’clock and the sky was a hazy shade of blue and gray. The Dark Man and the Dark Lady were sitting at a campfire they had just stoked. The black RV loomed behind them, like a mechanical monster.
They had been sitting there for a long time in silence, enjoying the sound of the Kish River and the nature that surrounded them. Lucy didn’t think she had ever seen so many cardinals as she did here in Blackhawk Valley. She wondered how the locals would feel about a Chicago Cardinals team.
Perhaps not very positively. On the other hand, didn’t the Chicago Cardinals exist at one time in American football?
She stifled a laugh. American football. It was a term Rogan used a lot when he talked about it. And she must have adopted it.
“Beautiful out here, isn’t it?”
He pulled her abruptly out of her thoughts. She gazed at him, taking off her sunglasses, and nodded. They both leaned comfortably in their chairs.
“The Gulf is beautiful,” he said, looking out at the trees. “But there’s more beauty to be found that I’ve neglected.”
“You can find beauty anywhere, Rogan, if your eyes are open to it.”
He nodded, looking around at the campground.
“Aye. So you can,” he said. There was some wisdom veiled behind his simple response. He looked out thoughtfully.
“You and Montague put on quite a show Monday.”
“Aye,” she mocked playfully. “So we did.”
His eyes narrowed on her and she grinned at him innocently. “What?”
He gave her what she had begun to identify as ‘the Rogan look’ where he just stared at her with no expression. She giggled, like she usually did when he gave her the look.
“I’m wondering what Mr. Somers will do to handle the situation,” he said.
“Well, I imagine he’ll handle it as fairly as he can,” Lucy replied, and she knew what she was doing. A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as Rogan turned his head away from her. He was loading up. She covered her mouth and leaned to the side, hiding her smirk.
“Jet will do whatever it is that he thinks he can piggyback off of and make it seem like whatever good comes out of it couldn’t have been accomplished without his input. And then pat himself on the back for it afterwards.”
Still smiling, Lucy shook her head. Rogan thought back to the Jet he came to know in the doorway. He sighed.
“That was wrong,” he said quietly. “Jet isn’t really like that.”
“I know,” Lucy said, patting his hand with hers and getting up from her chair.
“Where are you going?”
“To get the marshmallows. You want a s’more?”
“Some more of what?”
She paused, making sure he wasn’t messing with her.
“No, I meant, do you want a s’more?”
He stared at her, amused.
“I haven’t had anything yet.”
Lucy rolled her eyes and glared at him.
“So how can I have some more of nothing?”
Now it was his turn to grin.
“This is where you’re supposed to say, ‘You’re killing me, Smalls!’”
She shook her head and turned back to the RV.
“Perhaps you should watch that movie, Ms. Wylde. It’s an American classic, I’ve heard.”
The RV’s door slammed shut in response. He chuckled and settled back into his seat, staring into the fire, alone with his thoughts.
Dave Rydell…
A man whom I’ve never had any personal issues with. A man whom I’ve come to admire, if I’m being completely honest.
But do you respect me as much as I respect you?
I’ve been reflecting on my legacy for about the last year now. And I wonder just exactly what it is in the eyes of my peers.
I say for the last year. But what it’s felt like, is for the last decade. Which can’t be too far off from what you’ve been reflecting on.
You’ve spent twelve years in an on again, off again, relationship with this company. And you are undoubtedly reflecting back on your career at this stage of your life.
I’m at a similar stage, Dave. I’ve been reflecting an awful lot and wondering, am I as big of a deal to this company as I think I am? Am I as big of a deal to this industry as I set out to be?
I can’t answer that.
I know you’re wondering the same things about your peers. So I’ll give you my opinion, because I feel it’s valid.
You don’t need to hear the same tired bullshit about how you get in your own way. Dave Rydell’s worst enemy is himself. I’ve heard similar claims. It’s tiring, isn’t it? It’s tedious. And it’s lazy.
When your enemies start talking about that, it means they’ve nothing creative in their simple little heads that they can talk about. So they’ll take the obvious, the frequently used, and put their own spin on it in some futile attempt to make themselves look original.
I’m not going to do that, Dave. I’m not going to do that because I respect you. I think it’s bullshit, anyway and I don’t agree with it. You’ve poured your soul into this company. Just like Zane Scott. Just like Rogan MacLean. And have you ever had the baton to lead it?
No. They’ve never had the confidence to give Dave Rydell his run at the top of the mountain.
You’ve got my confidence though. From the first moment I watched you back in two thousand ten—or, I mean, two thousand sixteen, when I made my debut, I watched you and I thought, ‘why not that guy?’
I’m not alone in that, either.
I guess it seems kind of bizarre, doesn’t it? Your opponent hyping you up. Not putting you down, but giving you praise for what you’ve done. For what you’re doing. And for what you’re going to do.
I don’t like to be like everyone else.
I guess that was obvious, though.
The fact is, this is how I feel, Dave. I don’t have anything bad to say about you. You’ve had shortcomings, sure. But haven’t we all?
Isn’t most of the adventure chasing our goals?
I don’t want to stand in the way of your destiny, Dave. I really don’t.
But on Monday, I will be. On Monday, I’ll be trying to improve my legacy just as you’re trying to cement yours.
And I respect you. I respect you a lot.
But, I will be approaching you just like Michael Jordan approached his opponents. I’ll wish you good luck. I’ll shake your hand.
And after that?
It doesn’t matter how much I respect you. After that, I’ll be in my zone. And if it means stripping you of your dream to reach mine, then that’s what will happen. I hope you don’t take it personal when I take away the Conquest Championship from you.
I certainly won’t take it personal if I fail. And if I do?
I’ll be rooting for Dave Rydell to finish what he’s started. I’ll be rooting for you to finally capture what’s been eluding you for twelve goddamn years.
The same thing that I have my eyes focused on.
The same thing that Lucy has her eyes focused on.
The UGWC World fucking Championship.
On Monday, Dave… shake the hand that shook the world. And we’ll shake this world one more time on this fateful path.
