Post by dom on Jan 31, 2017 18:07:05 GMT -5
An older man whose face shows signs of weathered grizzly-ness walks down a dimly lit hallway inside of a house as the feint sound of a television can be heard in the distance. His blue and black flannel shirt held up from the suspenders clipped to his stained blue jeans. Black and grey eyebrows are lowered in annoyance as he stops in front of a door with a large pentagon shaped shield logo colored in crayon with the large letter D prominently. With a roll of his eyes he opens the door swiftly to see a young boy, his son, with his face buried into a pillow as he lays belly down in his bed.
“Dom? What happened at school?”
His father asks in a stern voice. It’s lower than a yell but louder than a growl. With a shake of his school-age head still buried in the pillow and childhood Dom refuses to acknowledge his father.
“Now, Damnit Dominic DiBona – your mother told me you got into a scrap…”
Entering the room further Dom’s father walks over towards the bed grabbing Dom by the arm and pulling him to sit up straight. In a denial of obedience Dominic still holds the pillow over his face as his father’s patience grows thin.
“…if you don’t remove that pillow from your face in the next five seconds you can stay in this damn room and skip dinner, Dom. I’m done with this game.”
As he moves to walk out of the room at the internal count of 4 Dom drops the pillow and a bruise is immediately seen under his eye. An exhale of disappointment leaves his father’s lungs as Dom chokes back tears.
“What happened?”
“I- I was on top of the monkey bars…and..”
In protest Dom’s father holds his hand up cutting off his son
“No- no. I’m not listening to this. On top of the FUCKING monkey bars again? Does your mother know this?! How many god damn times do I have to tell you to stop this, huh? You tell me. You tell me when you’re going to start taking this serious.”
Blown away by his father’s eruption of anger Dom tries to move the pillow back over his face and his father grabs it and tosses it across the room.
“I’m serious Dominic. When are you going to start taking this serious? You can’t be pretending to be some damn tights wearin superhero from your cartoon books, son. That’s not you. You need to stop your damn crying and learn that this aint gunna stop unless you start taking this serious!”
Kneeling down to see eye to eye with his son Dom’s father continues
“There comes a time in everyone’s life where the games stop and for some that time comes sooner rather than later – and son your time is now. These damn bullies are going to keep kickin you around like you’re a street can, kid. So let me know when you stop looking to heroes to save you in la-la land. You gotta get pissed. You gotta clench your fist and fight back. Those tears you got? Nobody but your mom gives a shit about your tears, son. Now wash up.”
As the father exits the room Dom grabs his graphic novel he had hidden under the pillow and looks to the front of it. A story of a kid who didn’t ask to be anyone’s superhero until one day tragedy left him with no choice.
Suddenly the same graphic novel being held in a child’s hands appears framed on a wall. The reflection in the glass is no longer the kid with tears building up in his eyes – afterall nobody would care about them anyways.
Instead the reflection in the mirror is that of a man who has, once again, remembered his father’s words as he charges into battle once again for the AWE Paramount Champion.
The question looms in his mind, was he not taking it serious this entire time?
Had he not given every ounce of effort every time he walked the AWE ramp?
Or perhaps it’s his approach?
“It’s truly astounding what triggers memories. For me it could be anything. The sound of a song. The smell of fresh baked cookies. A freeway exit sign. Or that comic book that I framed years ago. When I first framed it, I did so because it was worth money and all this time it was nothing more than a piece I bragged to other enthusiasts about having.”
Sharing a brief moment of humor with himself he turns towards the camera and away from the comic book almost embarrassed
“I guess I never looked at it for purpose before, or it never presented itself to me because I didn’t need the memory yet. But the one thing it triggered rings true to this day, a heartbreaking fact that was never more true than as of late.”
With a shrug of his shoulders Dom walks past the camera as it widens and shows the rest of his home gym around
“I’m not invincible. I’m not superman and maybe it was the baseball bat shot to my head to get that point through my thick skull. Maybe I needed the doctors to tell me that I couldn’t compete and earn my paycheck at the latest Massacre to remind that that this isn’t a superhero’s story told through cinematic drawings inside of white framed boxes. But in the end, there won’t be a written story believable enough to describe this climb to the top of the mountain.”
“Because as pessimistic as this all may sound the message of what needs to be done has never been more clear – and I’ve never seen the path more clearly. This is going to be a fight that I cannot look outside of myself for inspiration. In the triple threat match I’ll keep the thoughts and struggles of those inside of me but there’s only two fists that will be clenched around that championship and one man’s story to be told in the end.”
Dom approaches a punching bag hanging from the ceiling and stares directly into it, seeing more than what the viewers see.
“We were all born into this world with unlimited opportunities. Told we can be anything we want to be; and as I compete inside the ring I have chosen to seek the abundance of possibilities for each outcome both good and bad. From each outcome I grow and choose to not have a fixed mindset that allows disappointment and failure. Instead they leave me with questions. What can I do better? How much harder do I have to train? How do I grow eyes in the back of my head?”
A smirk on his face after his obvious sarcasm his head turns to a fixed glare on the camera.
“And most importantly… when am I going to start taking this seriously? See, I thought I was taking it serious before but Stoker, you’ve shown me the TRUE nature of this business. Kill or be killed. And whether you’d like to admit it or not you’ve tried to take me out twice because you’re afraid of the feelings I trigger inside of you. The feelings that rarely bring themselves to the light when you live a life of absolutes – but like it or not they exist. Fear. Nervousness. Pain. And the possibility of failure. Failure you’ve already experienced twice by not being able to take me out for good and failure that will present itself once again when I walk out as the Paramount Champion.”
“But me? I’m not afraid of those feelings. I’ve felt failure more than once in my short career. Nervousness? Hell, every time I stand behind those curtains before my music hits I have a nervous pit in my stomach. But the fear? I no longer fear. I have nothing to fear anymore in this industry because the one thing I feared has happened. I’ve been turned from a hero into a human – but the beautiful thing about humans is their ability to be resilient and when I overcome the failure and fight through the nervousness it’s the doubtless mindset of endless possibilities that brings my mind full circle – and it’s in that moment I become the hero again.”
Dom’s calm demeanor changes as he grits his teeth and pounds his clenched fist to his chest before it points into the camera
“I have NOTHING to lose guys. I don’t have a championship or a legacy. I don’t have a manager, like Owen, that has some expectations of me to meet. If I lose and fall back down the mountain nobody is going to think any less of me because I’ll dust myself off and climb again with pats on my back and the support of every AWE fan watching at home – but what about when I win? What will Owen have? He’ll have to look someone who has rode with him on his road to the AWE Paramount Championship opportunity and he’ll have to explain that he didn’t quite have what it took that night. And what about Stoker? What will he have? He’ll have to climb down from his throne and relinquish his dark reign over the locker room driven by fear and lacking any resemblance of respect or honor.”
Dom rubs his hands together and a smile unlike anything we’ve seen from him before this moment grows on his face
“But that story. That story that will be told to the children will be real. They’re older siblings and parents will tell them that they can read those comic books. They can pretend to fly. They can act as if they are a true hero because it’s from that inspiration that human beings become extraordinary. I will become something more than myself while having nothing to trust but myself in that ring in front of thousands. I won’t become a cape wearing superhero; I will evolve into the Dom DiBona that will reign with the gold around my waist for a long time after. And before they tell my story they’ll explain that it was a monster in the corner that drew out the Dom that they all saw. It was the passion of a friendly foe who stood in the other corner who pushed him to his limit and FORCED him to be more than what he was.”
A door opens in the distance as Dom’s head instinctively spins to see whose footsteps he hears walking through the door.
“You ready to take this serious?”
The deep, grizzled voice echoes in his home gym as his father stops in the doorway. His eyes ance around the room seemingly impressed by the home gym that his son has built.
“…or would you rather keep talking into that camera?”
A grin grows on Dom’s face as he fights back the urge to run to his father and hug him like he should have the day he came home with the black eye.
“I’ll see you outside in five minutes. Bring your guts.”
Just as quickly as he entered his father turns and leaves the gym knowing his question was rhetorical and the smile on his son’s face was the non-verbal answer he expected. Turning his head back towards the camera Dom shrugs his shoulders.
“I guess there’s only one thing left to do, guys. You two keep telling yourselves that you’re leaving with that championship. Build pillows with your words while you let them fall from your lips. Because when I walk in that ring I’m coming not as a wrestler. But as the blue collar kid from Youngstown, Ohio who has two fists and an extraordinary ability to take your breath away. Take that AWE Paramount Championship. And Take the Fucking Day.”
“Dom? What happened at school?”
His father asks in a stern voice. It’s lower than a yell but louder than a growl. With a shake of his school-age head still buried in the pillow and childhood Dom refuses to acknowledge his father.
“Now, Damnit Dominic DiBona – your mother told me you got into a scrap…”
Entering the room further Dom’s father walks over towards the bed grabbing Dom by the arm and pulling him to sit up straight. In a denial of obedience Dominic still holds the pillow over his face as his father’s patience grows thin.
“…if you don’t remove that pillow from your face in the next five seconds you can stay in this damn room and skip dinner, Dom. I’m done with this game.”
As he moves to walk out of the room at the internal count of 4 Dom drops the pillow and a bruise is immediately seen under his eye. An exhale of disappointment leaves his father’s lungs as Dom chokes back tears.
“What happened?”
“I- I was on top of the monkey bars…and..”
In protest Dom’s father holds his hand up cutting off his son
“No- no. I’m not listening to this. On top of the FUCKING monkey bars again? Does your mother know this?! How many god damn times do I have to tell you to stop this, huh? You tell me. You tell me when you’re going to start taking this serious.”
Blown away by his father’s eruption of anger Dom tries to move the pillow back over his face and his father grabs it and tosses it across the room.
“I’m serious Dominic. When are you going to start taking this serious? You can’t be pretending to be some damn tights wearin superhero from your cartoon books, son. That’s not you. You need to stop your damn crying and learn that this aint gunna stop unless you start taking this serious!”
Kneeling down to see eye to eye with his son Dom’s father continues
“There comes a time in everyone’s life where the games stop and for some that time comes sooner rather than later – and son your time is now. These damn bullies are going to keep kickin you around like you’re a street can, kid. So let me know when you stop looking to heroes to save you in la-la land. You gotta get pissed. You gotta clench your fist and fight back. Those tears you got? Nobody but your mom gives a shit about your tears, son. Now wash up.”
As the father exits the room Dom grabs his graphic novel he had hidden under the pillow and looks to the front of it. A story of a kid who didn’t ask to be anyone’s superhero until one day tragedy left him with no choice.
Suddenly the same graphic novel being held in a child’s hands appears framed on a wall. The reflection in the glass is no longer the kid with tears building up in his eyes – afterall nobody would care about them anyways.
Instead the reflection in the mirror is that of a man who has, once again, remembered his father’s words as he charges into battle once again for the AWE Paramount Champion.
WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO START TAKING THIS SERIOUS?
The question looms in his mind, was he not taking it serious this entire time?
Had he not given every ounce of effort every time he walked the AWE ramp?
Or perhaps it’s his approach?
“It’s truly astounding what triggers memories. For me it could be anything. The sound of a song. The smell of fresh baked cookies. A freeway exit sign. Or that comic book that I framed years ago. When I first framed it, I did so because it was worth money and all this time it was nothing more than a piece I bragged to other enthusiasts about having.”
Sharing a brief moment of humor with himself he turns towards the camera and away from the comic book almost embarrassed
“I guess I never looked at it for purpose before, or it never presented itself to me because I didn’t need the memory yet. But the one thing it triggered rings true to this day, a heartbreaking fact that was never more true than as of late.”
With a shrug of his shoulders Dom walks past the camera as it widens and shows the rest of his home gym around
“I’m not invincible. I’m not superman and maybe it was the baseball bat shot to my head to get that point through my thick skull. Maybe I needed the doctors to tell me that I couldn’t compete and earn my paycheck at the latest Massacre to remind that that this isn’t a superhero’s story told through cinematic drawings inside of white framed boxes. But in the end, there won’t be a written story believable enough to describe this climb to the top of the mountain.”
“Because as pessimistic as this all may sound the message of what needs to be done has never been more clear – and I’ve never seen the path more clearly. This is going to be a fight that I cannot look outside of myself for inspiration. In the triple threat match I’ll keep the thoughts and struggles of those inside of me but there’s only two fists that will be clenched around that championship and one man’s story to be told in the end.”
Dom approaches a punching bag hanging from the ceiling and stares directly into it, seeing more than what the viewers see.
“We were all born into this world with unlimited opportunities. Told we can be anything we want to be; and as I compete inside the ring I have chosen to seek the abundance of possibilities for each outcome both good and bad. From each outcome I grow and choose to not have a fixed mindset that allows disappointment and failure. Instead they leave me with questions. What can I do better? How much harder do I have to train? How do I grow eyes in the back of my head?”
A smirk on his face after his obvious sarcasm his head turns to a fixed glare on the camera.
“And most importantly… when am I going to start taking this seriously? See, I thought I was taking it serious before but Stoker, you’ve shown me the TRUE nature of this business. Kill or be killed. And whether you’d like to admit it or not you’ve tried to take me out twice because you’re afraid of the feelings I trigger inside of you. The feelings that rarely bring themselves to the light when you live a life of absolutes – but like it or not they exist. Fear. Nervousness. Pain. And the possibility of failure. Failure you’ve already experienced twice by not being able to take me out for good and failure that will present itself once again when I walk out as the Paramount Champion.”
“But me? I’m not afraid of those feelings. I’ve felt failure more than once in my short career. Nervousness? Hell, every time I stand behind those curtains before my music hits I have a nervous pit in my stomach. But the fear? I no longer fear. I have nothing to fear anymore in this industry because the one thing I feared has happened. I’ve been turned from a hero into a human – but the beautiful thing about humans is their ability to be resilient and when I overcome the failure and fight through the nervousness it’s the doubtless mindset of endless possibilities that brings my mind full circle – and it’s in that moment I become the hero again.”
Dom’s calm demeanor changes as he grits his teeth and pounds his clenched fist to his chest before it points into the camera
“I have NOTHING to lose guys. I don’t have a championship or a legacy. I don’t have a manager, like Owen, that has some expectations of me to meet. If I lose and fall back down the mountain nobody is going to think any less of me because I’ll dust myself off and climb again with pats on my back and the support of every AWE fan watching at home – but what about when I win? What will Owen have? He’ll have to look someone who has rode with him on his road to the AWE Paramount Championship opportunity and he’ll have to explain that he didn’t quite have what it took that night. And what about Stoker? What will he have? He’ll have to climb down from his throne and relinquish his dark reign over the locker room driven by fear and lacking any resemblance of respect or honor.”
Dom rubs his hands together and a smile unlike anything we’ve seen from him before this moment grows on his face
“But that story. That story that will be told to the children will be real. They’re older siblings and parents will tell them that they can read those comic books. They can pretend to fly. They can act as if they are a true hero because it’s from that inspiration that human beings become extraordinary. I will become something more than myself while having nothing to trust but myself in that ring in front of thousands. I won’t become a cape wearing superhero; I will evolve into the Dom DiBona that will reign with the gold around my waist for a long time after. And before they tell my story they’ll explain that it was a monster in the corner that drew out the Dom that they all saw. It was the passion of a friendly foe who stood in the other corner who pushed him to his limit and FORCED him to be more than what he was.”
A door opens in the distance as Dom’s head instinctively spins to see whose footsteps he hears walking through the door.
“You ready to take this serious?”
The deep, grizzled voice echoes in his home gym as his father stops in the doorway. His eyes ance around the room seemingly impressed by the home gym that his son has built.
“…or would you rather keep talking into that camera?”
A grin grows on Dom’s face as he fights back the urge to run to his father and hug him like he should have the day he came home with the black eye.
“I’ll see you outside in five minutes. Bring your guts.”
Just as quickly as he entered his father turns and leaves the gym knowing his question was rhetorical and the smile on his son’s face was the non-verbal answer he expected. Turning his head back towards the camera Dom shrugs his shoulders.
“I guess there’s only one thing left to do, guys. You two keep telling yourselves that you’re leaving with that championship. Build pillows with your words while you let them fall from your lips. Because when I walk in that ring I’m coming not as a wrestler. But as the blue collar kid from Youngstown, Ohio who has two fists and an extraordinary ability to take your breath away. Take that AWE Paramount Championship. And Take the Fucking Day.”