Post by Duce Jones on Jan 15, 2020 23:59:00 GMT -6
I guess I should feel fear within my heart.. Or maybe I should be somewhere wracking my brain on the possibilities that could happen this Friday night on Inferno.
Open Challenge Gauntlet Match…
Whatever..
It is what is but at the end of the night, a point will be made.
Whether it's Johnathan's or mines..
Recognition, that's all that I wanted..
Competition was something that I've always craved.
Opportunities are what I thought I would be earning.
But day by day, the wicked ways of the world would slap me as hard as it could across the face and tell me…
When are you gonna learn?
But I'm stubborn, too hard-headed for my own good. I'm the type of cat who would bang my head against a window just to see who would win.
The window, of course.
But I was always taught that nothing beats a failure but a try.
Weird but solid advice. You see I didn't come from the same background as some of your other typical second generation wrestlers. I didn't have the luxury of being able to see what the big dollars did for a young kid's life.
Where most wrestler kids were treated to the luxury lifestyle, there was that ten percent of kids who never got a chance to enjoy that for a number of reasons. Though mine was a bit different than others.
After my mother passed when I was younger, Pops did what he had to do.. He stepped up as a man and raised me the best way that he could. Got a nine to five while trying to stay in the wrestling business, it didn't work though. Even though he had remarried before my mother died, I knew he had took her loss pretty hard. He might never said anything but I knew..
There were weeks when I wouldn't see him at all and then there were days where he would sit in his office or be at the training center and he wouldn't utter two words to me. Then there were days when he would be the best dad ever. But I never had the luxurious life.
I was taught to go out there and get it, work for everything that I wanted because with the way that the economy was set-up.. He wasn't going to be able to provide everything that I needed.
So I sold drugs..
Hey, I was a sixteen year old kid with no hope for the future so sue me.. My step-mom was an officer of the law who honestly turned an eye to my bullshit until the bullshit almost hit the fan…
Even though wrestling took up the majority of my father's life with little reward. But growing up, it was the only constant in my life.
Professional Wrestling..
No matter how old I was, no matter where I was at.. it constantly stayed on my mind. I mean to me, it seemed like the best drug to ever get hooked on within this lifetime. Through my father I saw the highs and the lows.. And I wanted that same feeling.
When I was nineteen, I got busted for petty hustling. Thankfully it was my first offense and I was allowed supervised probation. Pops didn't like the idea of me going down that route.
But you can take me from the hood, however there was no taking the hood out of me. So when I almost got caught up the second time, he decided that professional wrestling was going to be the way that I should go. Which I was cool with, growing up, I had been training on and off with him, traveling to different shows.
Simply taking in different aspects of the business. And if it wasn't for him sending me to Kyoto to train under Sulu Suzuki.. I'd probably be rotting away in a cell. So I'm thankful that I was afforded that opportunity.
Fast forward nearly five years later and I'm one of the hottest acts in the business. Truth be told, with my youth I still had miles to go before I would ever be considered one of the GREATEST to ever do this..
But no matter how far away from the lifestyle I tried to stay. I would forever be a product of my environment.
I guess that's why I find myself sitting in front of the very spot where I almost got busted that final time.. Well what's left of it as a demolition crew had claimed the territory years prior. There I stood, taking the area in as it was the very spot that changed my whole life. I'd never forget it.
April 18, 2014
I brought the gray ‘76 Chevy SS Impala to a halt, as I pulled up to my destination. Shifting the gear into park, I remove the keys from the ignition and exit the vehicle that was giving to me as a birthday gift from Pops. By no means was it in tip top shape but it always gotten me from point A to point B.
Droplets of rain my from the night sky fall as I pull my hood over my head to keep from getting damp. Walking towards what looks to a house, I pull my a cell phone from my pocket, finding the number I want and pressing the call button, then putting the phone to my ear.
“Yea.. I'm walkin’ up right now mane..” I stated to the person on the other end, crossing the grass as I walk up to the front door.
Knocking on the front door, I stand there anxiously waiting for someone to answer. Someone finally does, one of my homeboys Rico, greeting me by shaking my hand as I enter the house.
“Wussup mane, what y’been on?” I said as I closed the front door behind me and locking it.
“Mane shit! Been into it wit dis maggot ass hoe..” He replied back upset.
“Aww shit, I don't wanna hear nothin’ bout no bitches tonight.. Sup bruh?” I said walking past him and making my way towards Big Nuke, another one of my high school friends. “What’s da bizness, what ya smokin’ on?”
“Strong..” He replied back, handed me a half smoked blunt.
Big Nuke heads for the kitchen, as I begin to take my hoodie off, preparing to have a seat on the nearby couch. Sitting on the arm of the couch is another one of my school buddies, Kobe, who shakes my hand, while I used the other to take a hit off the blunt.
“Say Kobe, what's poppin’, ain't nobody been ova here t'day?” I questioned shaking his hand as he rises up.
“Mane a nigga been waiting on you all day mane.. Lil buddy pulled up wit da money bout fo’ hours ago.” He said retrieving a small backpack from the side of the couch. “I got it right here though..”
“Bet.. Gone put it in da attic.” I told Kobe, finally taking a seat on the couch.
“Aight bet..” Kobe replied, making his way towards the attic.
Finally able to relax, I drag off the marijuana stick once again. “Shit!” I blurt out, exhausted from it having been a long day.
“Fuck you on nigga, you aight?” Kobe questioned as he made his way to the middle hallway, pulling a string down, which produced a ladder to the attic.
“I got too many bitches!” I exclaimed in a joking manner.
“Hehuh.. Mane flip one of dem hoes wit me Duce.” He stated, as he laughed his way up the ladder.
“What y'gon do wit da bitch?” I fired back mockingly. Shifting my attention back to Big Nuke, I ask him something. “Aye, cuz been ova here mane?”
“Mane hell yea mane, him and dat stupid ass bitch been blowin’ da spot up and shit dawg!” He replied as his phone began to ring in his pocket.
“Who, cuz?”
“Hell yea dawg..”
“What happened?”
“Mane they was finna fight and shit dawg, all type of shit bruh..” He replied, finally checking his phone to see who's calling.
“You lying!”
“Mane hold on bruh.” Big Nuke said answering the phone. “Hello. Sup bruh?” He paced back and forth as the person the other end spoke. “Y'said what? Twelve pullin’ up da street?” A nervous look begins to consume his face. “Pistol check da window..”
Pistol, the guy who's been standing by the window this whole time, peeking through the blinds and counting money, looks through the blinds again.
“SHID DAT IS TWELVE!” He shouts as everyone looks to make a daring escape from the house.
Bodies everywhere, Kobe dropping out of the attic as the rest of us head for the back door. From there we split up, everyone running in their own direction. Officers of the Memphis Police Department chasing after us.
I ran, ducking behind houses, jumping over fences. Running for my life, the sound of canines barking through the rainy night, sends my adrenaline into overdrive. Cause who the fuck wants to be bitten by a dog, especially one of those, bitches don't know how to let go.
The last thought on my mind was if they were behind me still, I honestly never looked back. But when I finally stopped I was in front of my father's house, breathing heavily, chest almost touching my back. Struggling for air, on my hands and knees, not able to open the door just yet. Though that didn't stop it from opening as there stood Pops, a look of surprise and concern plastered on his face.
“What the fuck is you doing boy?” He questioned in slight anger.
The only thing that I could respond with, was passing out on the porch.
Fade
Standing there looking at the empty plot, the only thing I could think about was how this could've been it for me. How folks would've never known who Duce Jones was. I can probably look back and laugh at the situation but it was moments like this that kept me humble. It was shit like this that kept me in tuned with the streets. At least how it was in my world.. See a lot of folks mock what they don't understand not truly knowing what the backstory to a person is. They never know why you do what you do, they just know that you go out and do it.
I'd be lying if I said that my lifestyle changed because it hasn't but constantly being on the road fighting, forced me to slow my roll.
A throbbing pain shoot through my cast, left hand. I'm sure people are wondering how did that exactly happen.. Let's just say I didn't take to kindly to The Incredible One's words at his little press conference. And no, it wasn't because he said nigga, it was he denied me the chance of giving him a fight that he'd never forget. But, spilled milk right?
"I've heard a lotta folks question why I do what I do.. I've even heard a few assumptions.. They say I do what I do fo' personal gain, which is partially true. Ya see at tha end'a tha day, your name is your brand. An' I'm gonna represent my brand t'tha best'a my abilities. With dat bein' said, I fight every week ta prove dat no otha' man in tha buildin' work as hard as me. I let my voice be heard cuh I see a business dat's slowly dyin'.. Ya see when I sign on tha dotted line, I no longa' represent my brand. I represent tha company dat blessed me wit tha chance ta perform. Given tha reason why I put my all inta makin' tha Nawf American Championship, one'a tha most sought afta' titles in dis company."
I scoff.
"I didn't do dat fo' me, I did dat fo' tha company an' those great fans who deserve a champion who's goin' ta come out every night an' perform fa them. Y'see these days, guys hold these titles fo' ransom. Waitin' on tha big payday befo' they decide ta walk out an' give it everythang dat they got. Dat's not how I roll, five successful title defenses compared ta tha..."
Duce begins to count on his fingers.
"How many times have these so-called champs defended anythang? Any way none'a dat even mattas, what really mattas is tha fact dat Jonny thanks dat I'm honestly concerned about dis Open Challenge Gauntlet match.. I hate ta break it ta ya, Johnny but ain't no bitch in my blood. Which means it doesn't matta who tha fuck ya brang down ta dat rang. One-by-muthafuckin-one, they all gonna get a knee put through they fuckin' face! Ya see, I've neva been fucked up about a loss cuh dat's a part'a tha game. But wit each poor sap sucka dat ya send my way won't be tha same when they leave dat rang. So come one, come all! From ten ta hunnit even ta tha good ole thou wow.. I'll fight em all cuz I'm prepared ta leave dat rang in a body bag...
Fade...
Open Challenge Gauntlet Match…
Whatever..
It is what is but at the end of the night, a point will be made.
Whether it's Johnathan's or mines..
Recognition, that's all that I wanted..
Competition was something that I've always craved.
Opportunities are what I thought I would be earning.
But day by day, the wicked ways of the world would slap me as hard as it could across the face and tell me…
When are you gonna learn?
But I'm stubborn, too hard-headed for my own good. I'm the type of cat who would bang my head against a window just to see who would win.
The window, of course.
But I was always taught that nothing beats a failure but a try.
Weird but solid advice. You see I didn't come from the same background as some of your other typical second generation wrestlers. I didn't have the luxury of being able to see what the big dollars did for a young kid's life.
Where most wrestler kids were treated to the luxury lifestyle, there was that ten percent of kids who never got a chance to enjoy that for a number of reasons. Though mine was a bit different than others.
After my mother passed when I was younger, Pops did what he had to do.. He stepped up as a man and raised me the best way that he could. Got a nine to five while trying to stay in the wrestling business, it didn't work though. Even though he had remarried before my mother died, I knew he had took her loss pretty hard. He might never said anything but I knew..
There were weeks when I wouldn't see him at all and then there were days where he would sit in his office or be at the training center and he wouldn't utter two words to me. Then there were days when he would be the best dad ever. But I never had the luxurious life.
I was taught to go out there and get it, work for everything that I wanted because with the way that the economy was set-up.. He wasn't going to be able to provide everything that I needed.
So I sold drugs..
Hey, I was a sixteen year old kid with no hope for the future so sue me.. My step-mom was an officer of the law who honestly turned an eye to my bullshit until the bullshit almost hit the fan…
Even though wrestling took up the majority of my father's life with little reward. But growing up, it was the only constant in my life.
Professional Wrestling..
No matter how old I was, no matter where I was at.. it constantly stayed on my mind. I mean to me, it seemed like the best drug to ever get hooked on within this lifetime. Through my father I saw the highs and the lows.. And I wanted that same feeling.
When I was nineteen, I got busted for petty hustling. Thankfully it was my first offense and I was allowed supervised probation. Pops didn't like the idea of me going down that route.
But you can take me from the hood, however there was no taking the hood out of me. So when I almost got caught up the second time, he decided that professional wrestling was going to be the way that I should go. Which I was cool with, growing up, I had been training on and off with him, traveling to different shows.
Simply taking in different aspects of the business. And if it wasn't for him sending me to Kyoto to train under Sulu Suzuki.. I'd probably be rotting away in a cell. So I'm thankful that I was afforded that opportunity.
Fast forward nearly five years later and I'm one of the hottest acts in the business. Truth be told, with my youth I still had miles to go before I would ever be considered one of the GREATEST to ever do this..
But no matter how far away from the lifestyle I tried to stay. I would forever be a product of my environment.
I guess that's why I find myself sitting in front of the very spot where I almost got busted that final time.. Well what's left of it as a demolition crew had claimed the territory years prior. There I stood, taking the area in as it was the very spot that changed my whole life. I'd never forget it.
April 18, 2014
I brought the gray ‘76 Chevy SS Impala to a halt, as I pulled up to my destination. Shifting the gear into park, I remove the keys from the ignition and exit the vehicle that was giving to me as a birthday gift from Pops. By no means was it in tip top shape but it always gotten me from point A to point B.
Droplets of rain my from the night sky fall as I pull my hood over my head to keep from getting damp. Walking towards what looks to a house, I pull my a cell phone from my pocket, finding the number I want and pressing the call button, then putting the phone to my ear.
“Yea.. I'm walkin’ up right now mane..” I stated to the person on the other end, crossing the grass as I walk up to the front door.
Knocking on the front door, I stand there anxiously waiting for someone to answer. Someone finally does, one of my homeboys Rico, greeting me by shaking my hand as I enter the house.
“Wussup mane, what y’been on?” I said as I closed the front door behind me and locking it.
“Mane shit! Been into it wit dis maggot ass hoe..” He replied back upset.
“Aww shit, I don't wanna hear nothin’ bout no bitches tonight.. Sup bruh?” I said walking past him and making my way towards Big Nuke, another one of my high school friends. “What’s da bizness, what ya smokin’ on?”
“Strong..” He replied back, handed me a half smoked blunt.
Big Nuke heads for the kitchen, as I begin to take my hoodie off, preparing to have a seat on the nearby couch. Sitting on the arm of the couch is another one of my school buddies, Kobe, who shakes my hand, while I used the other to take a hit off the blunt.
“Say Kobe, what's poppin’, ain't nobody been ova here t'day?” I questioned shaking his hand as he rises up.
“Mane a nigga been waiting on you all day mane.. Lil buddy pulled up wit da money bout fo’ hours ago.” He said retrieving a small backpack from the side of the couch. “I got it right here though..”
“Bet.. Gone put it in da attic.” I told Kobe, finally taking a seat on the couch.
“Aight bet..” Kobe replied, making his way towards the attic.
Finally able to relax, I drag off the marijuana stick once again. “Shit!” I blurt out, exhausted from it having been a long day.
“Fuck you on nigga, you aight?” Kobe questioned as he made his way to the middle hallway, pulling a string down, which produced a ladder to the attic.
“I got too many bitches!” I exclaimed in a joking manner.
“Hehuh.. Mane flip one of dem hoes wit me Duce.” He stated, as he laughed his way up the ladder.
“What y'gon do wit da bitch?” I fired back mockingly. Shifting my attention back to Big Nuke, I ask him something. “Aye, cuz been ova here mane?”
“Mane hell yea mane, him and dat stupid ass bitch been blowin’ da spot up and shit dawg!” He replied as his phone began to ring in his pocket.
“Who, cuz?”
“Hell yea dawg..”
“What happened?”
“Mane they was finna fight and shit dawg, all type of shit bruh..” He replied, finally checking his phone to see who's calling.
“You lying!”
“Mane hold on bruh.” Big Nuke said answering the phone. “Hello. Sup bruh?” He paced back and forth as the person the other end spoke. “Y'said what? Twelve pullin’ up da street?” A nervous look begins to consume his face. “Pistol check da window..”
Pistol, the guy who's been standing by the window this whole time, peeking through the blinds and counting money, looks through the blinds again.
“SHID DAT IS TWELVE!” He shouts as everyone looks to make a daring escape from the house.
Bodies everywhere, Kobe dropping out of the attic as the rest of us head for the back door. From there we split up, everyone running in their own direction. Officers of the Memphis Police Department chasing after us.
I ran, ducking behind houses, jumping over fences. Running for my life, the sound of canines barking through the rainy night, sends my adrenaline into overdrive. Cause who the fuck wants to be bitten by a dog, especially one of those, bitches don't know how to let go.
The last thought on my mind was if they were behind me still, I honestly never looked back. But when I finally stopped I was in front of my father's house, breathing heavily, chest almost touching my back. Struggling for air, on my hands and knees, not able to open the door just yet. Though that didn't stop it from opening as there stood Pops, a look of surprise and concern plastered on his face.
“What the fuck is you doing boy?” He questioned in slight anger.
The only thing that I could respond with, was passing out on the porch.
Fade
Standing there looking at the empty plot, the only thing I could think about was how this could've been it for me. How folks would've never known who Duce Jones was. I can probably look back and laugh at the situation but it was moments like this that kept me humble. It was shit like this that kept me in tuned with the streets. At least how it was in my world.. See a lot of folks mock what they don't understand not truly knowing what the backstory to a person is. They never know why you do what you do, they just know that you go out and do it.
I'd be lying if I said that my lifestyle changed because it hasn't but constantly being on the road fighting, forced me to slow my roll.
A throbbing pain shoot through my cast, left hand. I'm sure people are wondering how did that exactly happen.. Let's just say I didn't take to kindly to The Incredible One's words at his little press conference. And no, it wasn't because he said nigga, it was he denied me the chance of giving him a fight that he'd never forget. But, spilled milk right?
"I've heard a lotta folks question why I do what I do.. I've even heard a few assumptions.. They say I do what I do fo' personal gain, which is partially true. Ya see at tha end'a tha day, your name is your brand. An' I'm gonna represent my brand t'tha best'a my abilities. With dat bein' said, I fight every week ta prove dat no otha' man in tha buildin' work as hard as me. I let my voice be heard cuh I see a business dat's slowly dyin'.. Ya see when I sign on tha dotted line, I no longa' represent my brand. I represent tha company dat blessed me wit tha chance ta perform. Given tha reason why I put my all inta makin' tha Nawf American Championship, one'a tha most sought afta' titles in dis company."
I scoff.
"I didn't do dat fo' me, I did dat fo' tha company an' those great fans who deserve a champion who's goin' ta come out every night an' perform fa them. Y'see these days, guys hold these titles fo' ransom. Waitin' on tha big payday befo' they decide ta walk out an' give it everythang dat they got. Dat's not how I roll, five successful title defenses compared ta tha..."
Duce begins to count on his fingers.
"How many times have these so-called champs defended anythang? Any way none'a dat even mattas, what really mattas is tha fact dat Jonny thanks dat I'm honestly concerned about dis Open Challenge Gauntlet match.. I hate ta break it ta ya, Johnny but ain't no bitch in my blood. Which means it doesn't matta who tha fuck ya brang down ta dat rang. One-by-muthafuckin-one, they all gonna get a knee put through they fuckin' face! Ya see, I've neva been fucked up about a loss cuh dat's a part'a tha game. But wit each poor sap sucka dat ya send my way won't be tha same when they leave dat rang. So come one, come all! From ten ta hunnit even ta tha good ole thou wow.. I'll fight em all cuz I'm prepared ta leave dat rang in a body bag...
Fade...
