Post by technicalauthority on Aug 27, 2019 8:25:52 GMT -6
September 20th, 2018
Dartmouth, NS
~_~
I was sailing on the Atlantic when i got the call. The timing couldn't have been more perfect, as I was starting to feel completely unfulfilled. You see, nothing ever seems to change in Nova Scotia, which is what some would argue helps to maintain it's charm. But not for someone like me. I'm at my best when I'm striving towards new challenges, in new cities, amongst new people. When the phone call came through, I knew it would change my life, but I couldn't know to what extent.
There wasn't really much for Gus to sell me on. Gus told me about Lars Hagen, and the importance of him opening up a strong style wrestling organization in the deep south. Before Gus could finish explaining the reasoning behind his decision to sell my contract, I feverishly accepted. The desire to accomplish something more, something different had been weighing heavily on me for the better part of 2018. This was the opportunity I had been salivating for, and I promised myself that I would meet this challenge head on.
After Gus hung up the phone, I started to replay my journey up until this point. I felt a sense of gratitude towards the fans that would come watch me wrestle every other week for the past three years. A sense of accomplishment fell all over me, as I knew that nobody in the Maritime Pro locker room wanted to see me succeed. I might not have cut my teeth as an amateur wrestler like most of them, but that didn't make me any less worthy of a roster spot. Gus always told me to look each wrestler in the eye backstage, and extend a firm handshake their way even if it felt forced. My intentions were pure, and my ambitions were lofty - and yet, the locker room leader made it abundantly clear that he wasn't going to set any kind of precedence so the rest of them would fall in line.
I understand that this is a competitive business, but I didn't know what I didn't know and posed no real threat to anyone's spot. Especially not Kenneth's, who was the backbone of the organization, and a beloved local hero. Gaining Kenneth's acceptance would've made my transition into the wrestling business so much smoother, and yet he essentially ignored my efforts.
After my repeated attempts to 'fit in' with the boys fell upon deaf ears, I started to dig my heels in. There was only so many times that I could extend the olive branch, and have it disregarded. These guys didn't want to get to know me... These men had no interest in imparting any wisdom.
So be it.
It was exhausting trying to placate their egos, and feel subservient to their ideals. I decided it was in my best interest to blaze my own trail, even if it went against the rigid old school beliefs that still owned the Canadian wrestling scene.
I through caution to the wind at every turn, and did so with a great sense of pride. This became personal to me, and I planned on making a name for myself regardless of the resistance that was put before me. I stopped making eye contact, I stopped extending my hand, and I stopped looking for their approval.
Let them complain about my lack of tact, let their minds become consumed with my actions. The more they worry about what I'm doing, the more control over my own destiny I'll have I thought.
I was right.
For the past year and half, I was on the top of the marquee across from Kenneth Marshall, and we were doing record business for the province of Nova Scotia. They used to get a couple of hundred people once per year before I arrived. But now, they were seeing those couple hundred people on a bi-weekly basis. The rivalry between Kenneth and I had developed organically, and it was real. I know that the people who paid their hard earned money to buy tickets, felt the authenticity of the rivalry.
The Amateur Wrestling Hero vs. The failed professional athlete had layers to it. The general public couldn't help but pick a side, and be 100% invested. The diehard Canadian fans would always back Kenneth and his technical prowess. Kenneth could do no wrong, especially when we were holding shows in the Maritimes. About six months ago, the tide started to turn in my favour. My story was more relatable I deduced. Who hasn't felt like an outcast at some point in their life? How many people have sat idly by and watched as their peers have opportunity after opportunity handed to them, while you sit patiently hoping for a fraction of those opportunities knowing full-well you would capitalize.
Once the whispers about how I was being treated backstage started to circulate, a portion of the fans became empathetic. Suddenly, the crowd was divided and business couldn't have gotten any better. Both proverbially and literally, I had taken Kenneth's best shots, both in the ring and behind the curtain, and I kept coming back for more. Our rivalry started to dominate the conversations of even the most casual of fans, and that is when I knew that this authentic rivalry was starting to transcend beyond just the wrestling business.
As an athlete and as a performer, I always wanted to push myself to new heights. I knew that my next challenge was coming for me, and I needed to be prepared. I had heard whispers that the crowd in the deep south could be relentless, and that I would have my work cut out for me if I expected to rise through the ranks over there.
I looked down at my phone which had been buzzing off and on for the past ten minutes. Much to my surprise, the news of my move to The House of Strong Style was already circulating on twitter. I took a moment to read the headline, which read...
Alec Kirkland and Kenneth Marshall have been signed by H.O.S.S
I did my best not to react out of haste. As I purused the article, it did clarify that both Kenneth and I would be making our debuts in H.O.S.S in October. As much as I wanted to leave the redundancy of Nova Scotia behind me - I couldn't help but wonder if the fact that Kenneth and I were both signed together, if it would open up the lines of communication. Maybe this would be the first step in an entirely new direction for the two of us. Maybe this would force us to band together and protect one and other from the unknowns that lay ahead. Maybe... just Maybe.
[...]
But...
[...]
Maybe Not.
[...]
Fade.
Dartmouth, NS
~_~
I was sailing on the Atlantic when i got the call. The timing couldn't have been more perfect, as I was starting to feel completely unfulfilled. You see, nothing ever seems to change in Nova Scotia, which is what some would argue helps to maintain it's charm. But not for someone like me. I'm at my best when I'm striving towards new challenges, in new cities, amongst new people. When the phone call came through, I knew it would change my life, but I couldn't know to what extent.
There wasn't really much for Gus to sell me on. Gus told me about Lars Hagen, and the importance of him opening up a strong style wrestling organization in the deep south. Before Gus could finish explaining the reasoning behind his decision to sell my contract, I feverishly accepted. The desire to accomplish something more, something different had been weighing heavily on me for the better part of 2018. This was the opportunity I had been salivating for, and I promised myself that I would meet this challenge head on.
After Gus hung up the phone, I started to replay my journey up until this point. I felt a sense of gratitude towards the fans that would come watch me wrestle every other week for the past three years. A sense of accomplishment fell all over me, as I knew that nobody in the Maritime Pro locker room wanted to see me succeed. I might not have cut my teeth as an amateur wrestler like most of them, but that didn't make me any less worthy of a roster spot. Gus always told me to look each wrestler in the eye backstage, and extend a firm handshake their way even if it felt forced. My intentions were pure, and my ambitions were lofty - and yet, the locker room leader made it abundantly clear that he wasn't going to set any kind of precedence so the rest of them would fall in line.
I understand that this is a competitive business, but I didn't know what I didn't know and posed no real threat to anyone's spot. Especially not Kenneth's, who was the backbone of the organization, and a beloved local hero. Gaining Kenneth's acceptance would've made my transition into the wrestling business so much smoother, and yet he essentially ignored my efforts.
After my repeated attempts to 'fit in' with the boys fell upon deaf ears, I started to dig my heels in. There was only so many times that I could extend the olive branch, and have it disregarded. These guys didn't want to get to know me... These men had no interest in imparting any wisdom.
So be it.
It was exhausting trying to placate their egos, and feel subservient to their ideals. I decided it was in my best interest to blaze my own trail, even if it went against the rigid old school beliefs that still owned the Canadian wrestling scene.
I through caution to the wind at every turn, and did so with a great sense of pride. This became personal to me, and I planned on making a name for myself regardless of the resistance that was put before me. I stopped making eye contact, I stopped extending my hand, and I stopped looking for their approval.
Let them complain about my lack of tact, let their minds become consumed with my actions. The more they worry about what I'm doing, the more control over my own destiny I'll have I thought.
I was right.
For the past year and half, I was on the top of the marquee across from Kenneth Marshall, and we were doing record business for the province of Nova Scotia. They used to get a couple of hundred people once per year before I arrived. But now, they were seeing those couple hundred people on a bi-weekly basis. The rivalry between Kenneth and I had developed organically, and it was real. I know that the people who paid their hard earned money to buy tickets, felt the authenticity of the rivalry.
The Amateur Wrestling Hero vs. The failed professional athlete had layers to it. The general public couldn't help but pick a side, and be 100% invested. The diehard Canadian fans would always back Kenneth and his technical prowess. Kenneth could do no wrong, especially when we were holding shows in the Maritimes. About six months ago, the tide started to turn in my favour. My story was more relatable I deduced. Who hasn't felt like an outcast at some point in their life? How many people have sat idly by and watched as their peers have opportunity after opportunity handed to them, while you sit patiently hoping for a fraction of those opportunities knowing full-well you would capitalize.
Once the whispers about how I was being treated backstage started to circulate, a portion of the fans became empathetic. Suddenly, the crowd was divided and business couldn't have gotten any better. Both proverbially and literally, I had taken Kenneth's best shots, both in the ring and behind the curtain, and I kept coming back for more. Our rivalry started to dominate the conversations of even the most casual of fans, and that is when I knew that this authentic rivalry was starting to transcend beyond just the wrestling business.
As an athlete and as a performer, I always wanted to push myself to new heights. I knew that my next challenge was coming for me, and I needed to be prepared. I had heard whispers that the crowd in the deep south could be relentless, and that I would have my work cut out for me if I expected to rise through the ranks over there.
I looked down at my phone which had been buzzing off and on for the past ten minutes. Much to my surprise, the news of my move to The House of Strong Style was already circulating on twitter. I took a moment to read the headline, which read...
Alec Kirkland and Kenneth Marshall have been signed by H.O.S.S
I did my best not to react out of haste. As I purused the article, it did clarify that both Kenneth and I would be making our debuts in H.O.S.S in October. As much as I wanted to leave the redundancy of Nova Scotia behind me - I couldn't help but wonder if the fact that Kenneth and I were both signed together, if it would open up the lines of communication. Maybe this would be the first step in an entirely new direction for the two of us. Maybe this would force us to band together and protect one and other from the unknowns that lay ahead. Maybe... just Maybe.
[...]
But...
[...]
Maybe Not.
[...]
Fade.