Post by Jay Stevens on Jan 11, 2022 15:47:48 GMT -5
The day officially begins at 5AM when Jay Stevens steps out of the TDU training building and begins his run to the Long Beach City Beach. Five miles in the dark, the rest of the city is buzzing to life by the time his feet hit the sand.
Burpees and sprints through the sand to improve explosiveness and core strength, Jay stops only for a moment to take in the sun rise over the water.
The five miles back to the gym are more challenging with the Southern California sun beating down on his back, but he enjoys the grind. Almost as soon as he reaches the parking lot, he is accosted by the rumbling engine and blaring horn of a sports car zooming past him and screeching to a stop in front of the building.
"Jay!!"
The door swings open and Nicole Anderson, the energetic "Kid Dynamite", emerges. The girl raised in South Beach, Miami blends right into the SoCal scene, glamorous but gritty. Ripping her gym bag from the back of her car, she tosses it to Jay as he approaches.
"Carry this in for me, bag boy, I have some precious cargo to attend to," she says with a wink as she produces a frozen coffee drink.
Stevens rolls his eyes and the two head toward the building, Anderson's head on a swivel to take in the scenery.
"So this is the new digs, eh? Makes Chicago look like the gulag. Still not Florida though…" she trails off wistfully, sipping at her drink.
Stevens snickers. "Just wait, Nic, this is so much better than Jacksonville," he says as he unlocks the door and holds it open for her to enter.
Anderson's eyes widen as she gets her first look at the new facility. The walls are all freshly painted, the smell still fills the air.. Three rings are set up to the left, a full battery of free weights and exercise equipment to the right with a huge open mat space in the center separating them. Skylights and high windows let the California sun illuminate the space.
"Whoa…" she mutters.
Jay smirks and nods. "Right? Looks pretty nice, huh?"
"It's a'ight," she says to her stunned friend, "It's just really white in here. Like, really white. Did you just stick your arm under the machine to match the color?"
Anderson cackles in delight as Jay motions to the back of the building. "Whatever, let me show you the office, we can put your stuff in there."
Jay leads her across the mats and to a small office. Inside are a desk, two tables and four upright lockers. Three charcoal gray and one nauseatingly neon pink. Placards with the initials "DG", "JS", "JN", and "KDNA" signify ownership of each container. Anderson approaches, looks back to Jay, and switches the "JS" tag to the neon pink locker.
"That's better," she gushes to an eyeroll from Jay. She tosses her bag into the locker and sits down across from Stevens, propping her feet up onto one of the tables.
"So when's 'Crush' making it out here? Nicole asks, referring to "Crusher" Jordan Neal, their teammate from the "Wrecking Crew" lineup out of their former Chicago dojo.
Jay sighs, "He's with Davis in Puerto Rico. Apparently it was all booked before we bolted so Jordan is honoring his commitment and then heading out here."
"You sure about that?" She asks with a skeptical tone. "Davis is the one who brought him in, they're pretty tight."
Stevens shifts in his chair. "I'm sure, he'll be here." Pointing to the lockers, "Plus, the big guy talked to him. Jordan is ready and understands what the mission is."
"Cool," Anderson passively replies as she makes faces and poses at her phone, gripped in her outstretched hand. Several "peace signs" and twisted expressions and it's time to post.
"You been following wrestling? NPW? Cruiserweight Cup?" Jay inquires, barely pulling her eyes away from her phone except to briefly roll them.
"Obviously… I know how to internet, old man," Nicole snarks to the man two years her junior. "You've got your work cut out for you this year, all new blood and youngin's trying to grab the crown."
"Honestly, this is the most confident I've felt going into the tournament. Last year I had the murderers' row block and I aced the whole thing. This year I have the 'gimme' draw," he says, conviction in his voice. "I don't see any issues on my side of the draw, just have to make it to the Finals again and I have no doubt I'll get it done this time."
"What about Eddie Havok? He's the only one running his mouth," Nicole states, holding her drink in front of her face while still snapping off selfies. "You think that idiot has any go in him?"
Jay ponders the question briefly and shakes his head dismissively.
"I think he is just another one of these foolish trash-talkers taking up space. He wants to sell tee shirts, not win championships," Jay asserts. "Someone who clearly does his 'research' on Wikipedia and the walls of bathroom stalls."
Anderson laughs, reveling in the always dry delivery of her friend.
"He questions whether or not I can win my three matches, but that's something I've already done. I did it last year when I won four straight matches in three days and yes, ultimately lost to Eron Hunter in the finals," Jay continues. "But this is my tournament. This year. Last year. Every year. It's mine to win."
"Good," Anderson exclaims, tossing her phone across the table. "We better get to work then."
She springs to her feet and motions for Jay to follow her into the gym. Skipping to the mats, she removes her shoes and stands with her feet shoulder width apart, stretching as she points to the space in front of her.
Stevens steps forward and mirrors her stance.
"Five hundred?" She beams to a reluctant Stevens.
Jay takes a deep breath and nods in agreement as they both start the motion for Hindu squats. After a quick "one-two-skipafew" count from "Kid Dynamite", the work begins.
Burpees and sprints through the sand to improve explosiveness and core strength, Jay stops only for a moment to take in the sun rise over the water.
The five miles back to the gym are more challenging with the Southern California sun beating down on his back, but he enjoys the grind. Almost as soon as he reaches the parking lot, he is accosted by the rumbling engine and blaring horn of a sports car zooming past him and screeching to a stop in front of the building.
"Jay!!"
The door swings open and Nicole Anderson, the energetic "Kid Dynamite", emerges. The girl raised in South Beach, Miami blends right into the SoCal scene, glamorous but gritty. Ripping her gym bag from the back of her car, she tosses it to Jay as he approaches.
"Carry this in for me, bag boy, I have some precious cargo to attend to," she says with a wink as she produces a frozen coffee drink.
Stevens rolls his eyes and the two head toward the building, Anderson's head on a swivel to take in the scenery.
"So this is the new digs, eh? Makes Chicago look like the gulag. Still not Florida though…" she trails off wistfully, sipping at her drink.
Stevens snickers. "Just wait, Nic, this is so much better than Jacksonville," he says as he unlocks the door and holds it open for her to enter.
Anderson's eyes widen as she gets her first look at the new facility. The walls are all freshly painted, the smell still fills the air.. Three rings are set up to the left, a full battery of free weights and exercise equipment to the right with a huge open mat space in the center separating them. Skylights and high windows let the California sun illuminate the space.
"Whoa…" she mutters.
Jay smirks and nods. "Right? Looks pretty nice, huh?"
"It's a'ight," she says to her stunned friend, "It's just really white in here. Like, really white. Did you just stick your arm under the machine to match the color?"
Anderson cackles in delight as Jay motions to the back of the building. "Whatever, let me show you the office, we can put your stuff in there."
Jay leads her across the mats and to a small office. Inside are a desk, two tables and four upright lockers. Three charcoal gray and one nauseatingly neon pink. Placards with the initials "DG", "JS", "JN", and "KDNA" signify ownership of each container. Anderson approaches, looks back to Jay, and switches the "JS" tag to the neon pink locker.
"That's better," she gushes to an eyeroll from Jay. She tosses her bag into the locker and sits down across from Stevens, propping her feet up onto one of the tables.
"So when's 'Crush' making it out here? Nicole asks, referring to "Crusher" Jordan Neal, their teammate from the "Wrecking Crew" lineup out of their former Chicago dojo.
Jay sighs, "He's with Davis in Puerto Rico. Apparently it was all booked before we bolted so Jordan is honoring his commitment and then heading out here."
"You sure about that?" She asks with a skeptical tone. "Davis is the one who brought him in, they're pretty tight."
Stevens shifts in his chair. "I'm sure, he'll be here." Pointing to the lockers, "Plus, the big guy talked to him. Jordan is ready and understands what the mission is."
"Cool," Anderson passively replies as she makes faces and poses at her phone, gripped in her outstretched hand. Several "peace signs" and twisted expressions and it's time to post.
"You been following wrestling? NPW? Cruiserweight Cup?" Jay inquires, barely pulling her eyes away from her phone except to briefly roll them.
"Obviously… I know how to internet, old man," Nicole snarks to the man two years her junior. "You've got your work cut out for you this year, all new blood and youngin's trying to grab the crown."
"Honestly, this is the most confident I've felt going into the tournament. Last year I had the murderers' row block and I aced the whole thing. This year I have the 'gimme' draw," he says, conviction in his voice. "I don't see any issues on my side of the draw, just have to make it to the Finals again and I have no doubt I'll get it done this time."
"What about Eddie Havok? He's the only one running his mouth," Nicole states, holding her drink in front of her face while still snapping off selfies. "You think that idiot has any go in him?"
Jay ponders the question briefly and shakes his head dismissively.
"I think he is just another one of these foolish trash-talkers taking up space. He wants to sell tee shirts, not win championships," Jay asserts. "Someone who clearly does his 'research' on Wikipedia and the walls of bathroom stalls."
Anderson laughs, reveling in the always dry delivery of her friend.
"He questions whether or not I can win my three matches, but that's something I've already done. I did it last year when I won four straight matches in three days and yes, ultimately lost to Eron Hunter in the finals," Jay continues. "But this is my tournament. This year. Last year. Every year. It's mine to win."
"Good," Anderson exclaims, tossing her phone across the table. "We better get to work then."
She springs to her feet and motions for Jay to follow her into the gym. Skipping to the mats, she removes her shoes and stands with her feet shoulder width apart, stretching as she points to the space in front of her.
Stevens steps forward and mirrors her stance.
"Five hundred?" She beams to a reluctant Stevens.
Jay takes a deep breath and nods in agreement as they both start the motion for Hindu squats. After a quick "one-two-skipafew" count from "Kid Dynamite", the work begins.
