Post by Buckson Gooch on Nov 4, 2012 17:36:19 GMT -4
Purity.
My life could easily be described as pure. I’m in church every Sunday. I married my high school sweet heart. I work hard with my hands. I live without excess of drugs and drink. I even farm the old fashioned way. Just like my Daddy. I don’t do it to make others feel bad, I live my life because I like it that way.
Wallace D. Gooch was my father. Wally Gooch taught me, my brothers, and my sisters a lot about the rewards of good living and the calamity of bad living. My Father taught us why a real man had two sides to his hand. The palm is for working...and the back is for teaching.
My dad was tough on us. We needed it. I learned to work as soon as I could walk. I worked my farm and I love my farm. I love hard work. I love my family and I love my friends. I love my bride and I love my kids.
My Daddy passed away in 2000. Being the oldest, I inherited the meager farm. We took care of Mama until she passed on a year later. My family moved into the old farm house and I still run the farm, just like my Daddy did.
Wallace was warm, loving, touch and uncomplicated. He had a way of accepting whatever came his way with no more than a nod. He was a man in control and he was going to continue to work, no matter the trials. His abundant faith carried him through. One of twelve children, with determination, pulled himself out of poverty with great determination. He saved his money, he purchased a farm in central Arkansas. He worked the farm and taught us to work the farm, too.
He was seldom ill. Even if he was, the work still was there, can't really stop. The animals needed to be tended to no matter how he felt. We learned to work hard, work no matter what.
I’m grateful for the upbringing I had. I didn’t have the frills of this life, I didn’t need them. I’m grateful for what I have because I know that I have earned it. I’m grateful because I’m the man that my father was. I love my Daddy. My kids love me, too.
I had a great role model for a father. I want to be a man like my father. That’s great for me and my family, but not good for those in the way of me taking care of my family.
Even though unrelated, my past doesn't mean anything here in Action Packed Wrestling. Mac Bane, a dear friend, understands this as well. He has held belts everywhere he’s been. He’s in countless Hall of Fames. I know this because I’ve been at the induction ceremonies. The beauty of Mac is he realizes that his past doesn’t mean anything here. He is ready to make a new reputation for himself.
Our opponents must not have got the memo.
Just because you made it to the top of a garbage heap doesn’t change the fact that you’re on a garbage heap.
Mac and I will be taking this one match at a time. We don’t have any cute things to say, “Raising a flag” or plodding away in a dark room. Warner is especially in my craw. What do you call boring? Hard work? What I do for a living may not be pretty, it may not be entertaining to you. But I provide for my family as best I can. The beating that Mac and I will be bringing won’t be pretty, it may not be fun to watch. It’s going to be mean, intense, and quick. You bring your flashy moves and see what that gets you. No matter how bright your tights, a fist can still black an eye and a twist can make a joint break. We’re going to get the job done, perhaps that should be your focus.
Donald Deruty? I kind of dig that guy. He gets it. He understands the benefit of hard work. I could hear in his voice that he wasn’t pleased about teaming with Zack and hopes that he can drag a victory out of him. Donald, it’s not going to happen. You were sorely mistaken when you said our motives weren’t right. Mac has been a winner everywhere he’s been. He hasn’t set the goal of being tag champs...he knows we will be tag champs. Big difference. You hadn’t even heard from me and make a false accusation. I’m totally focused on this match. My life depends on it. My family depends on it. My farm depends on it. You and I could say we were similar in some aspects...but guessing that I’m just a dumb redneck because I’m from Arkansas, because I have an honest living, and because I don’t seek fame and fortune means that I’ve been blinded by gold? Absolutely not...as a matter of fact, maybe I don’t like you much at all. I’ll have no problem fixing your attitude problem as well. Much like you, I’m debuting this week. I’m not a polished performer, surely not as polished as Mr. Warner “claims” to be. I understand you trying to put your best foot forward...but you’ve put your best foot forward only to have it broken in your first match. You should’ve just been yourself and not put up a façade.
APW is guaranteed this from me and Mac: You’re going to get Buckson Gooch and Mac Bane every week. We don’t need scare tactics. Our scare tactic is us. Plain and simple. That’s my style. Plain. Simple.
Mac and I took vastly different turns in our life. I had family in Texas, and met Mac when we were kids. I liked him immediately. I hate bullies, I hate being lied to, and I hate people who think more of themselves than they are. We bonded immediately teaching the aforementioned lessons in humility. We saw each other off and on through the years. Always great to be around a genuine person.
He went military and I got hitched. Book learning just wasn’t for me. We exchanged Christmas cards every year. I had a few kids and he gave wrestling a shot. He got better and better. Won titles on top of titles. Accolades on top of accolades. Still the same old Mac that I played sandlot baseball with.
This economy is in rough shape. I’ve never been a wealthy man. Never had a desire to exceed my land. I take care of my bills, my family, and my reputation. I can’t pull out of this mess that the government has turned into. I needed help and Mac was the only one I knew I could rely on. I wanted a job. I didn’t want a handout. That’s the easy way out.
Wrestling.
Mac made some contacts with APW and said he could get me a job that, depending on our wins, could save my farm. I was in.
As a young man, I raised hell like everyone did. We’d fight. Run around. I grew out of it. I could defend myself and I still can. You don’t deal with large animals without being able to defend yourself.
When my livelihood is dependent on how Mac and I do, I’m not in this for fun and games. This is serious as a heart attack to me. There will be violence. There will be blood. Some of the blood may be mine, but if it is, you can guarantee that some of the blood will be yours, too.
I’m an even keeled man. But I’m angry. I’m angry that my hard work is sent for taxes that are wasted in Washington. I’m angry that hard work doesn’t pay off in my livelihood. I’ve followed the American dream and I’ve been put in a position to fail. I’m not going to fail my family.
This week, APW gets it’s first taste of Southern Hospitality...Southern Hospitality straight from an Arkansawyer redneck and a hacked off Texan.
Still drenched in sweat, Buck watches as Mac drove off from the farm in his truck. The dust being kicked up would let everyone know that Buck’s guest was leaving. As he turned around he heard the rumble of the truck again. Mac’s truck came to a stop and he stepped out. A smile came across his face as he handed an envelope to Buckson. Buck opened it...plane tickets and a check from ACW...Signing bonus?
Mac Bane: You’re going to need those tickets. The check, I wanted to hand deliver. We’ll fly together. Go over strategy. We got this, Ace.
Tears began to well in Gooch’s eyes, he jammed the tickets in his pocket and extended his hand, which Mac shook.
Buckson Gooch: Thank you, Mac. My family appreciates this.
Mac Bane: It’s just the start. I believe in men like you. We’re going to do great. Get some rest.
Mac laughed. He knew that there were things that needed to be done and it was going to be Buck to do them. Mac got back in his truck and drove off for the final time. Buck turned and looked at the farm. He thought back through the years of his father working this farm. He’s looked back at all the years he’s worked this farm. The blood, sweat, and tears that went into this farm. The fruit that has been yielded...There is no way he is going to lose it.
The beautiful, Arkansas sunrise was turning into an abnormally warm, blue sky day. The beautiful weather in the 70's was turning into the mid 80's. The sweat, again, was finding it’s way into Buck’s eyes. He wiped his face with a handkerchief, he knew he would need it through the day. He pulled the envelope from his pocket again.
He looked over the tickets. Looked at the check. Almost giddy, a smile crosses his face. He’s going to take care of his family, keep his farm, and be a part of something fun with one of his best friends.
He closes the envelope and tucks it in his pocket again. He wipes his face and heads to the barn. Work still needs to be done. The world doesn’t stop because of him. He's sore, but that's okay. He wouldn't mind going to bed and getting an extra hour or two of sleep...but the work still needs to get done. The time is now for this work...the time is now for their work in APW.
Inside the barn are large bags of feed. He grabs the corners and carries for, two in each hand. He tosses them in the back of his truck and looks at the top. He'd never realized that the bags were 100 lbs. a piece.
Buckson Gooch: Not much smaller than my opponents this week.
Ace smirks and opens his old truck door. He looks at the feed one more time before he sits down.
Buckson Gooch: You don't fight back, my opponents will...but, it'll feel good to punch my opponents, it would only slow my work down to hit you.
Gooch laughes to himself until he realized that he was talking to bags of feed. He shakes his head and sits on the squeaky bench seat of his truck. He slams the door and drives off...
The world may not now, or ever, know Buckson Gooch. Those who will cross his path will always remember him and the brand of Southern Hospitality he and Mac Bane “shared” with them.
My life could easily be described as pure. I’m in church every Sunday. I married my high school sweet heart. I work hard with my hands. I live without excess of drugs and drink. I even farm the old fashioned way. Just like my Daddy. I don’t do it to make others feel bad, I live my life because I like it that way.
Wallace D. Gooch was my father. Wally Gooch taught me, my brothers, and my sisters a lot about the rewards of good living and the calamity of bad living. My Father taught us why a real man had two sides to his hand. The palm is for working...and the back is for teaching.
My dad was tough on us. We needed it. I learned to work as soon as I could walk. I worked my farm and I love my farm. I love hard work. I love my family and I love my friends. I love my bride and I love my kids.
My Daddy passed away in 2000. Being the oldest, I inherited the meager farm. We took care of Mama until she passed on a year later. My family moved into the old farm house and I still run the farm, just like my Daddy did.
Wallace was warm, loving, touch and uncomplicated. He had a way of accepting whatever came his way with no more than a nod. He was a man in control and he was going to continue to work, no matter the trials. His abundant faith carried him through. One of twelve children, with determination, pulled himself out of poverty with great determination. He saved his money, he purchased a farm in central Arkansas. He worked the farm and taught us to work the farm, too.
He was seldom ill. Even if he was, the work still was there, can't really stop. The animals needed to be tended to no matter how he felt. We learned to work hard, work no matter what.
I’m grateful for the upbringing I had. I didn’t have the frills of this life, I didn’t need them. I’m grateful for what I have because I know that I have earned it. I’m grateful because I’m the man that my father was. I love my Daddy. My kids love me, too.
I had a great role model for a father. I want to be a man like my father. That’s great for me and my family, but not good for those in the way of me taking care of my family.
Even though unrelated, my past doesn't mean anything here in Action Packed Wrestling. Mac Bane, a dear friend, understands this as well. He has held belts everywhere he’s been. He’s in countless Hall of Fames. I know this because I’ve been at the induction ceremonies. The beauty of Mac is he realizes that his past doesn’t mean anything here. He is ready to make a new reputation for himself.
Our opponents must not have got the memo.
Just because you made it to the top of a garbage heap doesn’t change the fact that you’re on a garbage heap.
Mac and I will be taking this one match at a time. We don’t have any cute things to say, “Raising a flag” or plodding away in a dark room. Warner is especially in my craw. What do you call boring? Hard work? What I do for a living may not be pretty, it may not be entertaining to you. But I provide for my family as best I can. The beating that Mac and I will be bringing won’t be pretty, it may not be fun to watch. It’s going to be mean, intense, and quick. You bring your flashy moves and see what that gets you. No matter how bright your tights, a fist can still black an eye and a twist can make a joint break. We’re going to get the job done, perhaps that should be your focus.
Donald Deruty? I kind of dig that guy. He gets it. He understands the benefit of hard work. I could hear in his voice that he wasn’t pleased about teaming with Zack and hopes that he can drag a victory out of him. Donald, it’s not going to happen. You were sorely mistaken when you said our motives weren’t right. Mac has been a winner everywhere he’s been. He hasn’t set the goal of being tag champs...he knows we will be tag champs. Big difference. You hadn’t even heard from me and make a false accusation. I’m totally focused on this match. My life depends on it. My family depends on it. My farm depends on it. You and I could say we were similar in some aspects...but guessing that I’m just a dumb redneck because I’m from Arkansas, because I have an honest living, and because I don’t seek fame and fortune means that I’ve been blinded by gold? Absolutely not...as a matter of fact, maybe I don’t like you much at all. I’ll have no problem fixing your attitude problem as well. Much like you, I’m debuting this week. I’m not a polished performer, surely not as polished as Mr. Warner “claims” to be. I understand you trying to put your best foot forward...but you’ve put your best foot forward only to have it broken in your first match. You should’ve just been yourself and not put up a façade.
APW is guaranteed this from me and Mac: You’re going to get Buckson Gooch and Mac Bane every week. We don’t need scare tactics. Our scare tactic is us. Plain and simple. That’s my style. Plain. Simple.
Mac and I took vastly different turns in our life. I had family in Texas, and met Mac when we were kids. I liked him immediately. I hate bullies, I hate being lied to, and I hate people who think more of themselves than they are. We bonded immediately teaching the aforementioned lessons in humility. We saw each other off and on through the years. Always great to be around a genuine person.
He went military and I got hitched. Book learning just wasn’t for me. We exchanged Christmas cards every year. I had a few kids and he gave wrestling a shot. He got better and better. Won titles on top of titles. Accolades on top of accolades. Still the same old Mac that I played sandlot baseball with.
This economy is in rough shape. I’ve never been a wealthy man. Never had a desire to exceed my land. I take care of my bills, my family, and my reputation. I can’t pull out of this mess that the government has turned into. I needed help and Mac was the only one I knew I could rely on. I wanted a job. I didn’t want a handout. That’s the easy way out.
Wrestling.
Mac made some contacts with APW and said he could get me a job that, depending on our wins, could save my farm. I was in.
As a young man, I raised hell like everyone did. We’d fight. Run around. I grew out of it. I could defend myself and I still can. You don’t deal with large animals without being able to defend yourself.
When my livelihood is dependent on how Mac and I do, I’m not in this for fun and games. This is serious as a heart attack to me. There will be violence. There will be blood. Some of the blood may be mine, but if it is, you can guarantee that some of the blood will be yours, too.
I’m an even keeled man. But I’m angry. I’m angry that my hard work is sent for taxes that are wasted in Washington. I’m angry that hard work doesn’t pay off in my livelihood. I’ve followed the American dream and I’ve been put in a position to fail. I’m not going to fail my family.
This week, APW gets it’s first taste of Southern Hospitality...Southern Hospitality straight from an Arkansawyer redneck and a hacked off Texan.
------------------------------------------------
Still drenched in sweat, Buck watches as Mac drove off from the farm in his truck. The dust being kicked up would let everyone know that Buck’s guest was leaving. As he turned around he heard the rumble of the truck again. Mac’s truck came to a stop and he stepped out. A smile came across his face as he handed an envelope to Buckson. Buck opened it...plane tickets and a check from ACW...Signing bonus?
Mac Bane: You’re going to need those tickets. The check, I wanted to hand deliver. We’ll fly together. Go over strategy. We got this, Ace.
Tears began to well in Gooch’s eyes, he jammed the tickets in his pocket and extended his hand, which Mac shook.
Buckson Gooch: Thank you, Mac. My family appreciates this.
Mac Bane: It’s just the start. I believe in men like you. We’re going to do great. Get some rest.
Mac laughed. He knew that there were things that needed to be done and it was going to be Buck to do them. Mac got back in his truck and drove off for the final time. Buck turned and looked at the farm. He thought back through the years of his father working this farm. He’s looked back at all the years he’s worked this farm. The blood, sweat, and tears that went into this farm. The fruit that has been yielded...There is no way he is going to lose it.
The beautiful, Arkansas sunrise was turning into an abnormally warm, blue sky day. The beautiful weather in the 70's was turning into the mid 80's. The sweat, again, was finding it’s way into Buck’s eyes. He wiped his face with a handkerchief, he knew he would need it through the day. He pulled the envelope from his pocket again.
He looked over the tickets. Looked at the check. Almost giddy, a smile crosses his face. He’s going to take care of his family, keep his farm, and be a part of something fun with one of his best friends.
He closes the envelope and tucks it in his pocket again. He wipes his face and heads to the barn. Work still needs to be done. The world doesn’t stop because of him. He's sore, but that's okay. He wouldn't mind going to bed and getting an extra hour or two of sleep...but the work still needs to get done. The time is now for this work...the time is now for their work in APW.
Inside the barn are large bags of feed. He grabs the corners and carries for, two in each hand. He tosses them in the back of his truck and looks at the top. He'd never realized that the bags were 100 lbs. a piece.
Buckson Gooch: Not much smaller than my opponents this week.
Ace smirks and opens his old truck door. He looks at the feed one more time before he sits down.
Buckson Gooch: You don't fight back, my opponents will...but, it'll feel good to punch my opponents, it would only slow my work down to hit you.
Gooch laughes to himself until he realized that he was talking to bags of feed. He shakes his head and sits on the squeaky bench seat of his truck. He slams the door and drives off...
The world may not now, or ever, know Buckson Gooch. Those who will cross his path will always remember him and the brand of Southern Hospitality he and Mac Bane “shared” with them.