One Word

[goodburn]

Act I: One Word

Kyle is off somewhere preparing for his match against Stefan Raab, I know he has the match in the bag. Kyle tries to keep a different mindset than I do. He says it’s healthy to have two separate minds rather than two identical minds working together. I do agree with him, but if I tell him that, it kind of defeats the purpose. I’m watching President Jeff’s announcement. He gets done talking about the upcoming tournament, and I am ecstatic. This is something that Kyle can be a part of, and most likely win. Then it hits the fan, General Manager Diamond announces what I consider to be Kyle’s death sentence… Tag team partners.

This is too much. I fall down into the chair behind me. That’s the end of that fantasy. There is no way Kyle can work with anyone. I’m the only exception to that rule, but only because Kyle has known me all of his life.

I start thinking of all of the possibilities of who Kyle’s partner could be. I don’t come up with many good choices. Add in the fact that Kyle cannot work with anyone, and I come up with none. I start thinking of a way to break the news to Kyle. After all, it is my responsibility to tell him, I’m his manager.

Kyle comes into the room I’m in to check in with me. I look at him to see if he has heard the news yet, he hasn’t. If he had, he would be losing it, and the room would probably not survive the violence that would inevitably happen. To be sure though, I have to hear his voice, so I ask a common manager question.

“Ready for your match, Kyle?” I wait to hear his voice to tell if he is holding in anger.

“Not that I need to be that ready,” Kyle says, “but yes, I’m ready to rip a new one to Raab.”

Okay, Kyle has no idea about the announcement that took place. Obviously he is taking this match more seriously than he is letting on if he was blocking that much out from his attention. I am relieved though. There is no way he would be able to pay attention on his match if he knew about the tag team stipulation to qualify for this tournament. I’m relieved, for now.

There is a knock at the door. Kyle reaches for the door and opens it up. A stage hand tells us that Kyle’s match is up after this one, and that he is needed in five minutes for pre-match preparations.

“Well,” Kyle says, “it’s about time to stop wasting my time on this Raab guy. The sooner I’m done with him, the better. Then I can start thinking about more important things… Like what I want for dinner tonight.”

“Go ahead.” I say to Kyle, “Go give him what he deserves; A swift kick in the ass.”

Kyle leaves the back room. I’m alone, and all I can think is, “What am I going to do about this?” The answer is simple, tell him. I wander around the room, doing nothing but think through this situation. The problem is simple; Kyle does not work well with others. It seemed like a great career choice for Kyle to be a professional wrestler just for that very reason. Forgetting of course, tag team matches… I just need to tell Kyle the news, and he will have to find the strength to work through this. Or he will do something I never saw him do before; crash and burn. To say the least, I hope he pushes through this. I don’t know how he will act otherwise.

I go back to my seat, watching the ads being broadcasted over Meltdown. I am not feeling well at all. I am feeling the way I use to feel when I had to give bad news to my mother. Thinking over the way I will say it, but it never comes out the way I imagine it. I imagine it would be me being confident, assertive, not worried about the consequences. At the end of it all, I would come out sounding weak, practically pleading not to be punished.

I continue to watch Meltdown. The show is finally back from break, but I am hardly paying attention to it. I’m still thinking. I am his manager, I will tell him the news as a manger. This is business, I’m not giving him bad news as a father, and I’m giving him the news as his professional manager. If I give him the news that way, he will treat me as his manager, not storm off like he would if I was being his father. I recall the way managers are treated in movies, surely that is just dramatized, right?

I see Kyle’s match begin. I know he has this in the bag. I assume Kyle knows as much. I look at him closely, he looks the way he always looks when he is about to win a big victory; let it be over an opponent, or just anyone else in his life, he has the look of a man who is on the winning team. That is the same team I am on, but our team is having quite a problem, this tag team match which must be won so Kyle and I can finally get out of this Meltdown show. And I am the only one that knows about it right now, and that needs to change. I’ll have to tell him, as a manager.

I continue to watch Kyle’s match, it is quite good thus far. Raab is putting up a very good fight for someone who is going to lose for sure. But suddenly like a large animal chasing his prey, Kyle rolls Raab up for the victory. That quickly, Kyle finds an opening and takes full advantage of it, just like anyone on this winning team should do.

“It’s time to tell him.” I say out loud to myself. “Just one way to explain this situation: Bad.”

Act II: Still Reacting

Kyle’s reaction to the entire situation is the one I was hoping for. He is doing what every great leader does when they are confronted with a problem; He is thinking. I don’t give him enough credit, I was expecting him to react the way I would if I was confronted with such news; go into hiding and don’t come out until somebody else fixes the mess. Luckily Kyle adopted his mother’s nerves of steel. She was the one who usually fixed our problems.

It has been several days since I dropped the bomb on Kyle. Since then we have found out that Kyle’s tag team partner will be Yarmouth. And to Kyle’s annoyance they both will be facing Stefan Raab, but to Kyle’s joy his partner will be “The Soul of Philly” TJ. I know he is happy about that part of the match, when I mentioned TJ’s name, a smile and chuckle came from Kyle.

Right now, Kyle and I are at his house in Grand Rapids, Michigan. We are in the living room watching footage from the APW website on his SmarTV. We finally come across an old promo done by Kyle’s tag team partner for this weeks match, Yarmouth. Kyle clicks on the video and both of us begin watching it for a few seconds, I pay close attention to it, wanting to know about the man who will be tag teaming with my son, Kyle.

“Not the brightest sounding guy,” I say, breaking the silence between me and Kyle, “But he sure looks big enough to be of some help to you.”

Kyle looks over at me, with a disgusted look on his face. “This is a man that cannot win the North American title,” Kyle shouts at me, “even though he was given multiple opportunities. You think he is going to help me?”

I made a mistake. I forgot to never interrupt Kyle while he is thinking, or else whatever he is thinking at the moment will hit me full force. Obviously he was thinking of how to deal with his tag partner, Yarmouth. At least I know he is making some progress if he isn’t even thinking of his opponents anymore. Kyle goes back to watching Yarmouth’s promo on the television. He seems to be paying close attention to Yarmouth as much as I am. Kyle grunts to himself as he continues to listen.

“Not impressed, are you?” I dare to ask Kyle.

“If he thinks he is going to get into his opponents head this way,” Kyle answers, “then he is never going to be able to make any sort of impression anywhere. This stuff is primitive. He might as well throw rocks at his opponents.”

I’m beginning to get more worried than I was before. The man Kyle is talking about is the same man that he will be tag teaming with this week. From what I can tell, things will not be going well between the two men at all.

Kyle gets even more disgusted and turns off Yarmouth’s promo. He gets up from his chair and paces back and forth for a little while.

“This is not working.” Says Kyle, “Do you want to know what point I’m at right now? I would rather be a partner with Stefan Raab than this Yarmouth guy! At least Stefan is honest with who he is, unlike Yarmouth who is simply trying to get more fans to buy his t-shirts.”

Kyle continues to pace back and forth from one side to the room to the other while speaking. “And between Stefan and me, well that would be a team where each of us knows who the better guy is, because I destroyed him last week. Granted, we hate each other, but at least we know who the leader is! But no, I have a guy who has had championship title shots, he is going to assume that he is the boss just because he has been here longer than me, and has been in higher profile matches than me.”

“Kyle, you can’t look at it that way.” I say, “You just have to go out there, and win.”

“Oh thanks!” Kyle shouts, “And I guess if a space ship is crashing, there will be a message for me that will say, ‘Don’t Panic!’ Really, thanks for the advice. All I have to do is win, as if that wasn’t part of my genius plan.”

I begin recalling how managers are treated in movies. I guess the movies weren’t that far off after all. I seem to keep making the same mistake of interrupting Kyle while he is thinking. My self-esteem is suffering for it.

On Kyle’s TV there is suddenly an ad for a new frozen meal product; he shakes his head in annoyance. “What a bunch of stupid crap. Having them tell me what to try and not to try.”

The words, “Try some today!” goes into the ears of Kyle. From his facial expressions I can tell that something is going on in his head. Kyle mutters the same words from the commercial to himself, and his paces become slower around the room. Kyle even begins talking to himself, in a soft whisper.

“I’m not going to try some,” Kyle says, “because you’re not in charge… I’m the one who decides what I do, not some cheap frozen dinner company.”

I see where Kyle is going with this, and I begin to worry. “Kyle, this is a great opportunity! Don’t waste it!”

“What, you like their frozen dinners?” Kyle says to me, obviously sarcastically. “I think there’s nothing but a bunch of BS in those frozen dinners, that’s what I think Pops. And they are crazy if they think I’m going to be any part of promoting their frozen dinners. That’s that.”

Act III: It’s His Legacy

Kyle and I are in a heated argument. Kyle has decided he is no longer interested in even qualifying for the Test for the Best tournament, in his words, “It’s my legacy, not there’s!” But I am trying to convince him that this is not the right way to do things.

“Why don’t you care about it anymore?” I ask Kyle, “All of a sudden, it’s no longer a care to you anymore?”

“It never was,” Kyle replies, “did I say I cared about qualifying? I never said such things. Caring about beating men like TJ, Stefan Raab, and helping Yarmouth win the match, was never a care for me. You sir, made the mistake of assuming.”

“Then why all of the silence Kyle?” I ask Kyle, “Why have you been so upset and quiet, and thinking so very hard about the match when you apparently do not care!”

“My employers put this match in front of me,” says Kyle, “and they say, ‘win this’ and I made the mistake of falling for it the way everyone else is. But then I realized that this is not the legacy that I am wanting. People win tournaments every day; fishing, boxing, racing, there are even tournaments to see how long you can hold your urine, and the winner gets a Wii. Have I ever entered these tournaments dad?”

“No,” I answer him, “but that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t care about this one!”

“CJ Gates won last years,” Kyle says, “look where he is. He is stuck not being able to beat Kurt Noble. Is that the state I should be in? Being the shadow of a greater star? This tournament proves nothing. The man who is the best is the man who has the gold, not the man who is chasing after it. This tournament is pointless.”

“But Kyle,” I say, “if you win, you will be a headliner over night!”

“That is exactly your problem!” Kyle shouts at me, “You want the quick and easy way to do things. You are aware that the best villains or best heroes have something in common: patience. And from what I can tell, you have none. No one in this match has any patience except for me. Yarmouth had a good thing going, but he wasn’t happy with how the fans were responding to him so he thinks of a new way to connect with the audience. Little does he know if he kept with it, he would have made a bigger impression than he will now. Stefan Raab, he lost because of his lack of patience, and I won because of my patience.”

“As for TJ?” I ask Kyle.

“TJ, the man who probably has no patience for his own career. Why do you think he is so eager to help out his home town? He wants to distract himself from how slow his career has gotten. He doesn’t want to stop and look at things, or else he may see what his career is; a damn Rocky II montage.”

“So if these guys are so impatient,” I start asking, “why not take advantage of that and just try and win the match?”

“Oh, I’ll be in the match,” Kyle clarity’s, “I am obligated by contract to be in the match. Will I care if I win or lose? Not at all. I am not going to be a man who defines his entire career because I won a tournament, just like everyone does on Over Drive.”

I can see that Kyle’s defenses are rock solid. Nothing is going to go through. Kyle’s mind is made up; he does not care about the outcome of the match. I can tell it’s not because he thinks he is going to lose, but because this is not part of the legacy he had planned out. And no one, not even the APW officials will make that legacy take a detour.

“Well Kyle,” I say, “as your manager, I strongly urge you to reconsider, but as your father, I will stand by you no matter what.”

“Just remember,” Kyle begins, “this is for both of us, this legacy, is ours. This tournament has nothing to do with it. I don’t care who wins, Stefan Raab can go and win the whole thing for all I care. And I’m not going to be Yarmouth’s ticket to stardom.”

“Sometimes, your pride really gets in the way.” I tell Kyle, but all he does is get a smirk on his face.

“The truth hurts,” Kyle says, “this tournament is nothing but trash.”

Kyle walks off, for the first time ever I wonder if Kyle is making a mistake. He got to APW at the right time, a chance to qualify for their biggest tournament, but he thinks he is too big for it. This manager business is getting more and more complicated. It probably would be easier if I was allowed to manage an active volcano. At least it wouldn’t talk back to me, it would just put me out of my misery.