Post by Old Line Jeff on Dec 16, 2021 8:56:01 GMT -5
When in doubt, climb up on a roof somewhere and think everything through.
It was a life strategy that had worked surprisingly well for Ronnie Long, and he’d been doing it for over two decades. True, he’d once taken great pride in his ability to force doors open and windows open and to find his way to places he was not supposed to be in. He didn’t do that so much, anymore. Many building managers, once he’d explained who he was and his situation, would simply allow him onto the rooftops, and that was what he’d done this day.
Gordon Carlson was not entirely appreciative of the effort.
“I still don’t see the point in bringing me up here.”
“Maybe for you there isn’t one. On the other hand, maybe there isn’t but there should be.”
“I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.”
The two men looked over the Vancouver harbor in silence. It was a sunny, windy day today, and the harbor was full of dancing sparkles. The sun was bright and hot. And, apparently, so was Gordon Carlson’s temper.
Ronnie felt the anger crawling underneath the younger man’s skin. He was used to that feeling. Even if he blamed certain other wrestling promotions for the state that his friend Jeff Andrews was currently in, he’d been feeling that anger, seeing its effects. He’d seen it drag Andrews sideways and backwards, allowing him just enough momentum that he - Andrews, that is - focused on his seethe of the moment and didn’t notice the horizon receding. He’d heard it in Gordon Carlson’s voice the first time they spoke on the phone.
“It means… Gordon it means I’ve been doing this for almost twenty five years. Combat sports are as much a mental game as a physical one, and for the mental part? I’ve always found that getting somewhere with a good view and just trying to relax is the best thing for the mental part.”
“Well obviously it worked for you, somehow.” Ronnie thought he heard a faint sneer in the ‘somehow’, decided to ignore it. “All I feel like is that I’m wasting time I could be training in the gym.”
Again, Ronnie looked at the younger man.
“You’re angry.”
“Kind of. Look, I’m not trying to be ungrateful, but I just feel like this is a waste of time.”
“Well, if you’ll indulge me for say, fifteen minutes.”
“Alright.”
Ronnie continued to look out over the harbor.
“So…?” Gordon finally spoke.
“Why did you agree to our trio when Jay brought it up?”
“Erm. Well, I’m familiar enough with DEFIANCE to know you had a reputation as a guy who ‘can’t work’, but you’re also a World Champion. Pro wrestling is everything to me. I don’t get it, but I know I don’t get it, so I see a learning opportunity.”
“Can’t work, huh?” Long chuckled under his breath. “Here’s the thing. I’m not gonna unload all the secrets of my wrestling style on you but here’s the basics. You see me as a brawler. Heavy hands. Can’t tell a wristlock from a wristwatch. Never won a match via submission in twenty five years. So you focus on that, when I’ve only lost a single match by submission in twenty five years. Can you tell me why?”
Long looked at Carlson, who shrugged.
“You see a brawler, but I’m also a counter-wrestler. It’s just that my counters aren’t adding to the sequence, they’re cutting the knot. I don’t know many technical counters to a wristlock because I put my work into timing exactly when the grip’s going to be weak, exactly when the balance is going to be a little bit off, and exactly when to pull the guy into a short-arm clothesline. Same with flying headscissors. I learned exactly when to use their bodyweight to help spike them into the mat instead of learning to roll through one and land on my feet. The thing is, when I do these cut-the-knot counters, they look like a brawler using dumb muscle. I’m alright with that. When people talk about me enduring Heidi’s Beautiful Dreamer hold for thirty seconds when most people can’t manage ten, yeah, it overshadows all the holds I never got caught in in the first place.”
Gordon Carlson turned all the way around and looked Ronnie Long up and down. His brow furrowed.
“I guess… I never thought about it like that. But if that’s so, I kind of feel like you’re proving my point for me. Technical skill is great, but it’s more dangerous if it’s backed by a well placed snap.”
And Ronnie Long turned away, his back to the sun, watching his shadow.
“If you want to go down that road, it’s probably better to do it while you’re still young. It’s where I started. I’m going to warn you though, it’s easier to walk down than to walk back up.”
Carlson didn’t even respond.
It was a life strategy that had worked surprisingly well for Ronnie Long, and he’d been doing it for over two decades. True, he’d once taken great pride in his ability to force doors open and windows open and to find his way to places he was not supposed to be in. He didn’t do that so much, anymore. Many building managers, once he’d explained who he was and his situation, would simply allow him onto the rooftops, and that was what he’d done this day.
Gordon Carlson was not entirely appreciative of the effort.
“I still don’t see the point in bringing me up here.”
“Maybe for you there isn’t one. On the other hand, maybe there isn’t but there should be.”
“I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.”
The two men looked over the Vancouver harbor in silence. It was a sunny, windy day today, and the harbor was full of dancing sparkles. The sun was bright and hot. And, apparently, so was Gordon Carlson’s temper.
Ronnie felt the anger crawling underneath the younger man’s skin. He was used to that feeling. Even if he blamed certain other wrestling promotions for the state that his friend Jeff Andrews was currently in, he’d been feeling that anger, seeing its effects. He’d seen it drag Andrews sideways and backwards, allowing him just enough momentum that he - Andrews, that is - focused on his seethe of the moment and didn’t notice the horizon receding. He’d heard it in Gordon Carlson’s voice the first time they spoke on the phone.
“It means… Gordon it means I’ve been doing this for almost twenty five years. Combat sports are as much a mental game as a physical one, and for the mental part? I’ve always found that getting somewhere with a good view and just trying to relax is the best thing for the mental part.”
“Well obviously it worked for you, somehow.” Ronnie thought he heard a faint sneer in the ‘somehow’, decided to ignore it. “All I feel like is that I’m wasting time I could be training in the gym.”
Again, Ronnie looked at the younger man.
“You’re angry.”
“Kind of. Look, I’m not trying to be ungrateful, but I just feel like this is a waste of time.”
“Well, if you’ll indulge me for say, fifteen minutes.”
“Alright.”
Ronnie continued to look out over the harbor.
“So…?” Gordon finally spoke.
“Why did you agree to our trio when Jay brought it up?”
“Erm. Well, I’m familiar enough with DEFIANCE to know you had a reputation as a guy who ‘can’t work’, but you’re also a World Champion. Pro wrestling is everything to me. I don’t get it, but I know I don’t get it, so I see a learning opportunity.”
“Can’t work, huh?” Long chuckled under his breath. “Here’s the thing. I’m not gonna unload all the secrets of my wrestling style on you but here’s the basics. You see me as a brawler. Heavy hands. Can’t tell a wristlock from a wristwatch. Never won a match via submission in twenty five years. So you focus on that, when I’ve only lost a single match by submission in twenty five years. Can you tell me why?”
Long looked at Carlson, who shrugged.
“You see a brawler, but I’m also a counter-wrestler. It’s just that my counters aren’t adding to the sequence, they’re cutting the knot. I don’t know many technical counters to a wristlock because I put my work into timing exactly when the grip’s going to be weak, exactly when the balance is going to be a little bit off, and exactly when to pull the guy into a short-arm clothesline. Same with flying headscissors. I learned exactly when to use their bodyweight to help spike them into the mat instead of learning to roll through one and land on my feet. The thing is, when I do these cut-the-knot counters, they look like a brawler using dumb muscle. I’m alright with that. When people talk about me enduring Heidi’s Beautiful Dreamer hold for thirty seconds when most people can’t manage ten, yeah, it overshadows all the holds I never got caught in in the first place.”
Gordon Carlson turned all the way around and looked Ronnie Long up and down. His brow furrowed.
“I guess… I never thought about it like that. But if that’s so, I kind of feel like you’re proving my point for me. Technical skill is great, but it’s more dangerous if it’s backed by a well placed snap.”
And Ronnie Long turned away, his back to the sun, watching his shadow.
“If you want to go down that road, it’s probably better to do it while you’re still young. It’s where I started. I’m going to warn you though, it’s easier to walk down than to walk back up.”
Carlson didn’t even respond.
