Post by Top Dog on Jul 28, 2011 13:04:09 GMT
Okay, so my return to active wrestling went a wee bit wrong... I lost to Dagger Dave. What kind of wrestling name was that? I was a teacher. I shouldn't have lost. I was a former UCW Champion. I was in the main event of the first ever Hardcore Heaven when I was only twenty-four years old. That was a distant memory. Twenty-one years ago, that was. Look at me now. I'm Forty-five years old! And many think I haven't been relevant since 2002, when I faced The Predator at Hardcore Heaven XIII and he destroyed me. It was time to get myself back in there.
"Jealousy. A tournament. In my prime, I did quite well in tournaments. I managed to get to the final of the tournament to crown the first ever UCW Champion, and I was the 1992 Lord of Hardcore. Do you think I can do it, son?"
I was sitting in one of the rings at the UCW School of Wrestling, part of the UCW Arena. It was the blue-roped one, where I taught the standard classes. My son, Scott Williams was leaning back on the ropes. He was a good kid, and a star in the Advanced Class. He used the purple-roped ring just metres away from us.
"Not really. If you beat Bert Ritalin, you'll face Ross Walker, and he's one of the best. MTB couldn't beat him, and he's better than you are right now. And you have James Stall and Marcus Brody in your brackets. I've been training with James and he's a tough bastard. You cannae do it."
"I cannae?"
"Nay. I dunno why you're doin' this dad. Is there any need?"
"Sorry, lad. I haven't felt myself since the end of UCW. No one talks about me. I'm a shabby mess and all I'm stuck doing is teaching the standard class. I'm in a rut. I need to bust it."
I knew I was right. My son was saying something but I blanked him. I had to have a resurgence. I needed to live up to my name. I needed to be the Top Dog once more! Once I was done with Ritalin, he'd be needing his Prozac to take care of him. He'd be left wondering: who let the dogs out? Who? Who? Who? Me!
"Jealousy. A tournament. In my prime, I did quite well in tournaments. I managed to get to the final of the tournament to crown the first ever UCW Champion, and I was the 1992 Lord of Hardcore. Do you think I can do it, son?"
I was sitting in one of the rings at the UCW School of Wrestling, part of the UCW Arena. It was the blue-roped one, where I taught the standard classes. My son, Scott Williams was leaning back on the ropes. He was a good kid, and a star in the Advanced Class. He used the purple-roped ring just metres away from us.
"Not really. If you beat Bert Ritalin, you'll face Ross Walker, and he's one of the best. MTB couldn't beat him, and he's better than you are right now. And you have James Stall and Marcus Brody in your brackets. I've been training with James and he's a tough bastard. You cannae do it."
"I cannae?"
"Nay. I dunno why you're doin' this dad. Is there any need?"
"Sorry, lad. I haven't felt myself since the end of UCW. No one talks about me. I'm a shabby mess and all I'm stuck doing is teaching the standard class. I'm in a rut. I need to bust it."
I knew I was right. My son was saying something but I blanked him. I had to have a resurgence. I needed to live up to my name. I needed to be the Top Dog once more! Once I was done with Ritalin, he'd be needing his Prozac to take care of him. He'd be left wondering: who let the dogs out? Who? Who? Who? Me!