Post by Buckson Gooch on Feb 5, 2013 19:21:26 GMT -4
"Things change. And friends leave. Life doesn't stop for anybody." - Stephen Chbosky
People fear change. People stay in jobs they don’t like, towns that they hate, and eat food they can’t stand all because they can’t stand change. All they know is what they are doing and they don't want to change that a bit. The more I get to know other people, the more I realize it's kind of a universal flaw. Staying precisely the same for as long as possible, standing perfectly still...it feels better somehow. It is familiar. People like familiarity. Whenever we hear of someone over the age of 30 drastically changing jobs and moving, people are shocked at their actions. People can fear change for what could be better...but people also fear a change even if things are bad. Some even mock that person for trying, when they doing have the guts to do the same. Some people take solace in their pain. Mrs. Havisham from Dickens, “Great Expectations” should have moved along in her life, but she refused to. She was hurting, but didn’t want to move on. She didn’t want the change..
People fear that first step. Because if you take that leap of faith, went outside the box, did something unexpected...who knows what new pain might be there. There is some possibility that things could be even worse that what you are doing right now. Thus, change is bad.
I knew that getting into a wrestling could be a very dangerous endeavor. If I break my leg, I'm not only out a wrestling pay check, my farm work doesn't get done. That drives me to do better...it was something I had to do to get back on my feet. I wasn't going to put my family on food stamps and government help...I had to succeed. There are many who need those programs, and I'm not making fun of them, but I'm a man. I'm a capable man. I was going to do whatever it took to take care of my family...so far...I am.
Frost said, “I chose the road less traveled by” yet our society often chooses, the road always traveled and are satisfied with the highs and lows in traveling. I mean things could be worse, you could be a drug addict or something. I mean seriously, it is your life, you can choose to be miserable right? It makes misery so much easier when we choose it.
Others may not notice those first steps of changing and stepping out. But rest assured you will notice it. Viscerally, the change can make you feel like a different person. And you hope this is who you are going to be. The direction you are going is only going to get better. You have a choice in the person you get to be forever...
...That’s why I took the steps I did.
I left my work on the farm to become a professional wrestler...I actually didn’t leave the work...I’m still doing the work on top of working my farm. I was in financial trouble and APW opened their doors and let me make a living...I’m financially secure now. I’m working on making sure that my kids can go to college and then I’ll spoil Annabelle some.
The thought of surprising her with gifts makes me happy.
While I’m still new to the business, there are men that I’ve encountered that make me happy, too. Not in a weird way, mind you, but in a way that I can proudly say they are my coworkers. They are genuinly good people.
A.C. Smith is one of those guys.
He put his life on the line as a protector in our society. Some 200 hundred well earned stitches paint a crosswork of scars on his body that don’t say Xtreme wrestling...they say...Hero.
This week it is my honor to go face to face with this man...or should I say beast?
I’ve been in APW since November and few have shown the physical prowess that A.C. Smith has, after a great showing in Survive & Conquer, he is ready to move on...and so am I.
I pushed Mark Mania to the limit...but the limit doesn’t win you title matches. It may earn respect, but you don’t get a belt for respect.
This week, much like you don’t play russion roullete with a gun and a clip...you use a revolver. On paper, Smith should be the outright winner. I think some people would give me a sliver of a chance to make a good showing, but I’ve been proving people wrong my whole life.
Not crying, just how life is.
Physically, I may not have the impressive muscles to show off, but I am every bit as strong as A.C. Smith. Smith is going to have to take a different approach with me other than “run him over.” Because I don’t run over. I don’t get run over.
I left the farm, Smith left the force. Both are positions that our country needs. I’m sure A.C. Smith was a decorated officer. I’m sure he upheld the law and was an honorable citizen at that.
I can relate.
I’ve heard it once said that people are like sheep. They wake up in the morning, they get ready, the go to work, they come home, spend time with their family, and start it all over again, hoping not to be disturbed. Criminals are like the wolves. Wolves may not be everywhere and they may not attack all the sheep, but the sheep they destroy are still valuable. Police officers are like the shepherds. They protect their sheep, and they keep the wolves away to the best of their ability.
The parallel is simple, while the above is a comparison, mine is real. I have to take care of my farm. I have to take care of my family, my animals, my crop. I have to do everything in my power to make sure that those who would harm or steal aren’t allowed to do that...and I’ve done a good job, too.
We were men who in previous lines of work too care of our business...and it seems that we have carried that over into our lives as professional wrestlers.
I’m not going to say I want it more, because I know how bad you want to win as well.
I’m not going to say I’m tougher, because that’s not true either. We are on a level playing field in that area.
All I can do is guarantee you, that despite the odds or adversity, I will give you my best. Sometimes my best is good enough, sometimes it’s not.
But if you think you can take your focus off of me and still win, you are not the man I think you are.
Focus doesn’t come from hours in the weight room, crushing my delts and pounding my lats...to me it comes from doing meaningful work on a daily basis. Picking up 300 lbs. of feed and tossing it over my shoulder. Lifting a baby calf and getting to the vet when there are complications. I can do my work and while taking care of those responsibilities, further improve my ring shape, character, and purpose.
I want to be a winner. I want to be a success.
The only way to do that is to continue to try. Continue to get better.
Fall down six times, get up seven.
You’ll get a good, clean match from me, Smith. May the best man win.
As some in our country deal with sub-zero weather, the beautiful morning in Possomgrape, Arkansas seems to be welcoming in the spring. The 58 degree morning is met with azure blue skies with hints of clouds moving briskly across the Ozark skyline.
Buckson Gooch looks down at the mud on his arms as he sits in the rocking chair on his porch. It takes him roughly 3 hours every morning to take care of the everyday maintenance of the farm. Having Fungus (his trusty ‘74 Dodge) makes things go faster, but this morning, Fungus had a flat tire. Instead of taking the time to get the spare from the barn, he decided to things the old fashioned way...by horse.
That first swig of Annabelle’s sweet tea refreshes him like nothing else. While Gooch never experimented with drugs, he did drink a fair bit in his younger days. He’s gave that up completely about a decade ago, sweet tea is the strongest thing he drinks, and he likes it that way.
Simmons, his blue roan, did just fine, but the work took 6 hours. Not that that’s a bad thing.
10:30 A.M.
Gooch enjoys the feeling of a job well done, and places the empty sweet tea glass on the rustic table next to his rocking chair.
He makes his way to the old barn and pulls out a donut...not the food, but a spare tire for Fungus. He gets over to his beloved truck and finds the root of the problem...nail in the tire.
Buckson Gooch: Should be easy enough to patch.
About that time a loud engined truck on giant wheels storms past the front of the Gooch’s house.
Buckson Gooch: Must be compensating for something.
The giant truck sure doesn’t impress, Gooch. Probably some punk in his early twenties trying to show off. The shiny black truck with the ostentatious flames down the sides, is still whizzing through his mind. Gooch loosens the lugnuts and jacks up his truck, he can’t stop thinking about that stupid truck that went by.
He imagined the wasted time.
...the wasted money...
...the wasted effort...
...The productivity of the truck wasn’t what it could be, instead it was all jacked up.
All jacked up?
This week, Buckson Gooch, faces one of the most muscular megastars in APW...A.C. Smith.
The comparison to the tricked out truck to the current XTreme champion is a close one to make. While A.C. Smith is a man to be respected, there are certain things that will hinder him in his match with Buckson Gooch. It’s obvious the young fella spent so much extra time on his truck didn’t utilize his time the best...Gooch wonders if the same could be said for working on a chisled physique.
Weightlifting could be useful for strength, if you don’t live on a farm and lift heavy objects on a daily basis...What does it say about a man who does that?
Though Buck doesn’t understand it, he could guess why going to gym would be a good thing. If you don’t have a job where lifting things is part of the job and you still want to get strong, that is acceptable. Lifting weights just to make your body look good is a waste of time.
Buckson Gooch: Bleh, Bodybuilding is masturbation.
Buckson Gooch may be an ugly man, but he isn’t a man who wastes time. If there is a job to be done, he goes and he does it. He gives it his best, fights through the pain, and accomplishes his goal. If he has a hog tied up, he’s not going to curl the hog so his guns will be poppin’. He puts it where it needs to go and completes the mission...Right now, the mission is changing this stupid flat tire.
Gooch pulls the flat tire from his truck and slides the donut on and tightens the lug nuts. He lowers the truck and tightens them more. Gooch shakes his head at his luck and grabs the tire and tosses it into the back of the truck.
The moment the tire left his fingers he knew he had made a mistake. As the rim of the tire circled around, it cut his forearm and left a big gash...
Buckson looked into the newly created valley in his forearm. It stung, but it wasn’t anything serious. The dark top layer of skin, nicely met the pink underbody. As oxygen his this new skin, blood began to trickle into cut like a dam releasing water through a river bed, he grabs the dirty handkerchief from his back pocket and applies pressure.
Aggravated with himself, he kicks a rock beside his truck. He’s going to have to make a decision now...Where does he go?
He could drive into town and get the doctor to sew it up...or he can go to Rusty Grier, his buddy the taxidermist, who was only a mile down the road.
You can almost smell the bacteria growing on the walls of the store, that for some reason always seemed damp. He opens the door and sees Rusty Grier. Rusty and Buck graduated high school together some 17 years before, but Grier was an alcoholic. Rusty looking older than he did before, looks up at Buck with a faint smile that turned into a snarl, obviously shocked by the blood dripping from the saturated handkerchief on the right arm of Gooch. Rusty got up and gave Buck a hug and asked him to sit down in what appeared to be a bear skin covered office chair.
Buckson Gooch: Thanks for helping me out, Rusty. I’d rather not have to pay $150 and wait four hours for a doctor to stitch this up.
Rusty Grier: No problem, old friend. I did this to my dog when he got fixed. Hold still.
Before Buck can question what he’s just heard, Rusty grabs am old needle with some fishing wire and splashes some rubbing alcohol on the open wound. Like a magician, he weaves tight stitches that will keep the gully together. He does this before the alcohol can even stop burning. He takes a pair of scissors and snips the bottom of the wire and ties a knot.
Rusty Grier: You won’t wanna get this Infected. I can fix that.
Rusty grabs an iodine pencil and runs it down the scar a few times. If the scar wasn’t blatantly obvious before, it sure is now, highlighted by a bright yellow stain on his arm. He looks at the fishing line holding his arm together. He imagines his body already healing as we speak. It’s almost as if he’s willing it to do it’s work.
Buckson Gooch: The scar doesn’t really bother me, Grier. I'm still me. This ain't gonna slow me down.
Rusty Grier: It should, that thing is huge. Now it’s yellow.
Rusty Grier snickers to himself and sits back down.
Rusty Grier: Things haven’t been the same since you left, Buck. I didn’t realize how much the town relied on you, but we understand you are following your dream and taking care of your family. That’s commendable. We just wish we could see you more.
Buck knows what Grier means. Even though he’s here practically everyday his social appearances are next to none.
Buckson Gooch: I miss all of the good times, too. It does make things easier, I miss Coker very much. I still can’t...
Buck’s voice cracks. It’s been a little over a month and he can barely say his best friend’s name without wanting to break into tears. Not because of what lies ahead eternally for Coker, but because he really misses his friend. Being away from Possomgrape keeps him away from the memories...but Buck wouldn’t want to broadcast that. He coughes and wipes the little tear from his right eye and continues on.
Buckson Gooch: Rusty, I had to do something different. I hope that people can look to me and see they can improve. I needed to do something to help my family more, and that opportunity just wasn’t here in Possomgrape.
Rusty nods his head in agreement. Possomgrape is a little community that isn’t growing or shrinking. Tends to always stay the same. Almost seems as if when a few people die, a young family moves in to work at the paper mill or down at the brick factory.
Buckson Gooch: I want people who are unable to get out of their situation to be able to live their dreams vicariously through me. I want to give back to this town. I want to make people’s lives better. I want to show people if they aren’t happy they can do something about it. If they need more, they can persevere...they can burst the shackles of complacency off their hands and feet...they can reach for the stars.
Buck smiles. The thought that him taking a step on this platform will help liberate those who feel trapped makes him feel good.
Rusty Grier: I’ve enjoyed watching you on TV. I was so mad that Mark Mania won.
Rusty, in a rare show of anger slings down a tool, and takes a big swig of what appears to be moon shine straight from the bottle.
Buckson Gooch: Mark Mania was better than me on that day, it happens. If we faced each other again, there may be a different result, but I can’t focus on the past, I can only focus on what’s ahead of me, and that’s A.C. Smith. I’m not going to give up. I don’t care the adversity. Smith deserves my best, the fans deserve my best, and my family deserves my best.
With that, Rusty reaches his hand out to shake Buck’s. Buck obliges.
Buckson Gooch: What do I owe you?
Rusty Grier: Don’t worry about it, man. You’ve helped me out in the past. Go out there and win your match this week. Let the Big Apple man know what Possomgrape Pride is all about!
Buck smiles as he leaves the dank, most taxidermy office. He’s still going to have to go into town to get his tire patched, but at least his arm sewn up. A simple mistake can lead to a big problem.
This week, Buck is going to have to think straight and not take his focus off of A.C. Smith, a man who very much deserves it.
A.C. Smith, as I said before, you and I aren’t very different. Our former lives had their similarities and their differences, but we are both men who strive to do their best.
No matter what the issue at home is, I still have to take care of myself, take care of my farm, take care of my equipment, and take care of my family. I’m willing to do whatever it takes for the upkeep of all of those. I understand that Possomgrape may be cheering me on, but there is still a tender part in my heart for the loss of my best friend.
The hardwork, the pain, the effort, the learning...it’s all going to pay off. Everything is going to click one of these days, A.C. This week it might be against you.
I don’t think you’re the type of man to use tired cliche’s about who I am, what I look like, and where I’m from. I hope you approach this match the same way that I do.
I’ll be approaching with respect and an attempt to do my best. That’s all that I can do...and to think, I’m better than when I started...and I’ll be better after this.
Accentuate the positives, brother. Be kind. Try your best. Take care of your business. Stay humble. That’s sharing Southern Hospitality.
People fear change. People stay in jobs they don’t like, towns that they hate, and eat food they can’t stand all because they can’t stand change. All they know is what they are doing and they don't want to change that a bit. The more I get to know other people, the more I realize it's kind of a universal flaw. Staying precisely the same for as long as possible, standing perfectly still...it feels better somehow. It is familiar. People like familiarity. Whenever we hear of someone over the age of 30 drastically changing jobs and moving, people are shocked at their actions. People can fear change for what could be better...but people also fear a change even if things are bad. Some even mock that person for trying, when they doing have the guts to do the same. Some people take solace in their pain. Mrs. Havisham from Dickens, “Great Expectations” should have moved along in her life, but she refused to. She was hurting, but didn’t want to move on. She didn’t want the change..
People fear that first step. Because if you take that leap of faith, went outside the box, did something unexpected...who knows what new pain might be there. There is some possibility that things could be even worse that what you are doing right now. Thus, change is bad.
I knew that getting into a wrestling could be a very dangerous endeavor. If I break my leg, I'm not only out a wrestling pay check, my farm work doesn't get done. That drives me to do better...it was something I had to do to get back on my feet. I wasn't going to put my family on food stamps and government help...I had to succeed. There are many who need those programs, and I'm not making fun of them, but I'm a man. I'm a capable man. I was going to do whatever it took to take care of my family...so far...I am.
Frost said, “I chose the road less traveled by” yet our society often chooses, the road always traveled and are satisfied with the highs and lows in traveling. I mean things could be worse, you could be a drug addict or something. I mean seriously, it is your life, you can choose to be miserable right? It makes misery so much easier when we choose it.
Others may not notice those first steps of changing and stepping out. But rest assured you will notice it. Viscerally, the change can make you feel like a different person. And you hope this is who you are going to be. The direction you are going is only going to get better. You have a choice in the person you get to be forever...
...That’s why I took the steps I did.
I left my work on the farm to become a professional wrestler...I actually didn’t leave the work...I’m still doing the work on top of working my farm. I was in financial trouble and APW opened their doors and let me make a living...I’m financially secure now. I’m working on making sure that my kids can go to college and then I’ll spoil Annabelle some.
The thought of surprising her with gifts makes me happy.
While I’m still new to the business, there are men that I’ve encountered that make me happy, too. Not in a weird way, mind you, but in a way that I can proudly say they are my coworkers. They are genuinly good people.
A.C. Smith is one of those guys.
He put his life on the line as a protector in our society. Some 200 hundred well earned stitches paint a crosswork of scars on his body that don’t say Xtreme wrestling...they say...Hero.
This week it is my honor to go face to face with this man...or should I say beast?
I’ve been in APW since November and few have shown the physical prowess that A.C. Smith has, after a great showing in Survive & Conquer, he is ready to move on...and so am I.
I pushed Mark Mania to the limit...but the limit doesn’t win you title matches. It may earn respect, but you don’t get a belt for respect.
This week, much like you don’t play russion roullete with a gun and a clip...you use a revolver. On paper, Smith should be the outright winner. I think some people would give me a sliver of a chance to make a good showing, but I’ve been proving people wrong my whole life.
Not crying, just how life is.
Physically, I may not have the impressive muscles to show off, but I am every bit as strong as A.C. Smith. Smith is going to have to take a different approach with me other than “run him over.” Because I don’t run over. I don’t get run over.
I left the farm, Smith left the force. Both are positions that our country needs. I’m sure A.C. Smith was a decorated officer. I’m sure he upheld the law and was an honorable citizen at that.
I can relate.
I’ve heard it once said that people are like sheep. They wake up in the morning, they get ready, the go to work, they come home, spend time with their family, and start it all over again, hoping not to be disturbed. Criminals are like the wolves. Wolves may not be everywhere and they may not attack all the sheep, but the sheep they destroy are still valuable. Police officers are like the shepherds. They protect their sheep, and they keep the wolves away to the best of their ability.
The parallel is simple, while the above is a comparison, mine is real. I have to take care of my farm. I have to take care of my family, my animals, my crop. I have to do everything in my power to make sure that those who would harm or steal aren’t allowed to do that...and I’ve done a good job, too.
We were men who in previous lines of work too care of our business...and it seems that we have carried that over into our lives as professional wrestlers.
I’m not going to say I want it more, because I know how bad you want to win as well.
I’m not going to say I’m tougher, because that’s not true either. We are on a level playing field in that area.
All I can do is guarantee you, that despite the odds or adversity, I will give you my best. Sometimes my best is good enough, sometimes it’s not.
But if you think you can take your focus off of me and still win, you are not the man I think you are.
Focus doesn’t come from hours in the weight room, crushing my delts and pounding my lats...to me it comes from doing meaningful work on a daily basis. Picking up 300 lbs. of feed and tossing it over my shoulder. Lifting a baby calf and getting to the vet when there are complications. I can do my work and while taking care of those responsibilities, further improve my ring shape, character, and purpose.
I want to be a winner. I want to be a success.
The only way to do that is to continue to try. Continue to get better.
Fall down six times, get up seven.
You’ll get a good, clean match from me, Smith. May the best man win.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
As some in our country deal with sub-zero weather, the beautiful morning in Possomgrape, Arkansas seems to be welcoming in the spring. The 58 degree morning is met with azure blue skies with hints of clouds moving briskly across the Ozark skyline.
Buckson Gooch looks down at the mud on his arms as he sits in the rocking chair on his porch. It takes him roughly 3 hours every morning to take care of the everyday maintenance of the farm. Having Fungus (his trusty ‘74 Dodge) makes things go faster, but this morning, Fungus had a flat tire. Instead of taking the time to get the spare from the barn, he decided to things the old fashioned way...by horse.
That first swig of Annabelle’s sweet tea refreshes him like nothing else. While Gooch never experimented with drugs, he did drink a fair bit in his younger days. He’s gave that up completely about a decade ago, sweet tea is the strongest thing he drinks, and he likes it that way.
Simmons, his blue roan, did just fine, but the work took 6 hours. Not that that’s a bad thing.
10:30 A.M.
Gooch enjoys the feeling of a job well done, and places the empty sweet tea glass on the rustic table next to his rocking chair.
He makes his way to the old barn and pulls out a donut...not the food, but a spare tire for Fungus. He gets over to his beloved truck and finds the root of the problem...nail in the tire.
Buckson Gooch: Should be easy enough to patch.
About that time a loud engined truck on giant wheels storms past the front of the Gooch’s house.
Buckson Gooch: Must be compensating for something.
The giant truck sure doesn’t impress, Gooch. Probably some punk in his early twenties trying to show off. The shiny black truck with the ostentatious flames down the sides, is still whizzing through his mind. Gooch loosens the lugnuts and jacks up his truck, he can’t stop thinking about that stupid truck that went by.
He imagined the wasted time.
...the wasted money...
...the wasted effort...
...The productivity of the truck wasn’t what it could be, instead it was all jacked up.
All jacked up?
This week, Buckson Gooch, faces one of the most muscular megastars in APW...A.C. Smith.
The comparison to the tricked out truck to the current XTreme champion is a close one to make. While A.C. Smith is a man to be respected, there are certain things that will hinder him in his match with Buckson Gooch. It’s obvious the young fella spent so much extra time on his truck didn’t utilize his time the best...Gooch wonders if the same could be said for working on a chisled physique.
Weightlifting could be useful for strength, if you don’t live on a farm and lift heavy objects on a daily basis...What does it say about a man who does that?
Though Buck doesn’t understand it, he could guess why going to gym would be a good thing. If you don’t have a job where lifting things is part of the job and you still want to get strong, that is acceptable. Lifting weights just to make your body look good is a waste of time.
Buckson Gooch: Bleh, Bodybuilding is masturbation.
Buckson Gooch may be an ugly man, but he isn’t a man who wastes time. If there is a job to be done, he goes and he does it. He gives it his best, fights through the pain, and accomplishes his goal. If he has a hog tied up, he’s not going to curl the hog so his guns will be poppin’. He puts it where it needs to go and completes the mission...Right now, the mission is changing this stupid flat tire.
Gooch pulls the flat tire from his truck and slides the donut on and tightens the lug nuts. He lowers the truck and tightens them more. Gooch shakes his head at his luck and grabs the tire and tosses it into the back of the truck.
The moment the tire left his fingers he knew he had made a mistake. As the rim of the tire circled around, it cut his forearm and left a big gash...
Buckson looked into the newly created valley in his forearm. It stung, but it wasn’t anything serious. The dark top layer of skin, nicely met the pink underbody. As oxygen his this new skin, blood began to trickle into cut like a dam releasing water through a river bed, he grabs the dirty handkerchief from his back pocket and applies pressure.
Aggravated with himself, he kicks a rock beside his truck. He’s going to have to make a decision now...Where does he go?
He could drive into town and get the doctor to sew it up...or he can go to Rusty Grier, his buddy the taxidermist, who was only a mile down the road.
You can almost smell the bacteria growing on the walls of the store, that for some reason always seemed damp. He opens the door and sees Rusty Grier. Rusty and Buck graduated high school together some 17 years before, but Grier was an alcoholic. Rusty looking older than he did before, looks up at Buck with a faint smile that turned into a snarl, obviously shocked by the blood dripping from the saturated handkerchief on the right arm of Gooch. Rusty got up and gave Buck a hug and asked him to sit down in what appeared to be a bear skin covered office chair.
Buckson Gooch: Thanks for helping me out, Rusty. I’d rather not have to pay $150 and wait four hours for a doctor to stitch this up.
Rusty Grier: No problem, old friend. I did this to my dog when he got fixed. Hold still.
Before Buck can question what he’s just heard, Rusty grabs am old needle with some fishing wire and splashes some rubbing alcohol on the open wound. Like a magician, he weaves tight stitches that will keep the gully together. He does this before the alcohol can even stop burning. He takes a pair of scissors and snips the bottom of the wire and ties a knot.
Rusty Grier: You won’t wanna get this Infected. I can fix that.
Rusty grabs an iodine pencil and runs it down the scar a few times. If the scar wasn’t blatantly obvious before, it sure is now, highlighted by a bright yellow stain on his arm. He looks at the fishing line holding his arm together. He imagines his body already healing as we speak. It’s almost as if he’s willing it to do it’s work.
Buckson Gooch: The scar doesn’t really bother me, Grier. I'm still me. This ain't gonna slow me down.
Rusty Grier: It should, that thing is huge. Now it’s yellow.
Rusty Grier snickers to himself and sits back down.
Rusty Grier: Things haven’t been the same since you left, Buck. I didn’t realize how much the town relied on you, but we understand you are following your dream and taking care of your family. That’s commendable. We just wish we could see you more.
Buck knows what Grier means. Even though he’s here practically everyday his social appearances are next to none.
Buckson Gooch: I miss all of the good times, too. It does make things easier, I miss Coker very much. I still can’t...
Buck’s voice cracks. It’s been a little over a month and he can barely say his best friend’s name without wanting to break into tears. Not because of what lies ahead eternally for Coker, but because he really misses his friend. Being away from Possomgrape keeps him away from the memories...but Buck wouldn’t want to broadcast that. He coughes and wipes the little tear from his right eye and continues on.
Buckson Gooch: Rusty, I had to do something different. I hope that people can look to me and see they can improve. I needed to do something to help my family more, and that opportunity just wasn’t here in Possomgrape.
Rusty nods his head in agreement. Possomgrape is a little community that isn’t growing or shrinking. Tends to always stay the same. Almost seems as if when a few people die, a young family moves in to work at the paper mill or down at the brick factory.
Buckson Gooch: I want people who are unable to get out of their situation to be able to live their dreams vicariously through me. I want to give back to this town. I want to make people’s lives better. I want to show people if they aren’t happy they can do something about it. If they need more, they can persevere...they can burst the shackles of complacency off their hands and feet...they can reach for the stars.
Buck smiles. The thought that him taking a step on this platform will help liberate those who feel trapped makes him feel good.
Rusty Grier: I’ve enjoyed watching you on TV. I was so mad that Mark Mania won.
Rusty, in a rare show of anger slings down a tool, and takes a big swig of what appears to be moon shine straight from the bottle.
Buckson Gooch: Mark Mania was better than me on that day, it happens. If we faced each other again, there may be a different result, but I can’t focus on the past, I can only focus on what’s ahead of me, and that’s A.C. Smith. I’m not going to give up. I don’t care the adversity. Smith deserves my best, the fans deserve my best, and my family deserves my best.
With that, Rusty reaches his hand out to shake Buck’s. Buck obliges.
Buckson Gooch: What do I owe you?
Rusty Grier: Don’t worry about it, man. You’ve helped me out in the past. Go out there and win your match this week. Let the Big Apple man know what Possomgrape Pride is all about!
Buck smiles as he leaves the dank, most taxidermy office. He’s still going to have to go into town to get his tire patched, but at least his arm sewn up. A simple mistake can lead to a big problem.
This week, Buck is going to have to think straight and not take his focus off of A.C. Smith, a man who very much deserves it.
-------------------------------------------------------
A.C. Smith, as I said before, you and I aren’t very different. Our former lives had their similarities and their differences, but we are both men who strive to do their best.
No matter what the issue at home is, I still have to take care of myself, take care of my farm, take care of my equipment, and take care of my family. I’m willing to do whatever it takes for the upkeep of all of those. I understand that Possomgrape may be cheering me on, but there is still a tender part in my heart for the loss of my best friend.
The hardwork, the pain, the effort, the learning...it’s all going to pay off. Everything is going to click one of these days, A.C. This week it might be against you.
I don’t think you’re the type of man to use tired cliche’s about who I am, what I look like, and where I’m from. I hope you approach this match the same way that I do.
I’ll be approaching with respect and an attempt to do my best. That’s all that I can do...and to think, I’m better than when I started...and I’ll be better after this.
Accentuate the positives, brother. Be kind. Try your best. Take care of your business. Stay humble. That’s sharing Southern Hospitality.
