Not everything goes according to plan. (Living Legendary #9)

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My music hits the P/A, I'm feeling it, getting into my groove and heading out to the ring. I feel great, not a real care in the world as I make my way to the ring. The pyro goes off, all cylinders are firing, I'm feeling every moment and nerve alive. It's not too long before I'm standing in the ring with Grim Wyatt before me and I know he's not that much younger than I am, I can't help but hope I looked that good at his age. We shake hands, show a little respect to each other, and "Ding Ding," say the bell.

For the first few minutes we're feeling each other out. Wristlocks, takedowns, counters, he matches me move for move as I'd expected him to. Whatever he is outside the wrestling ring, I didn't really know, but from the first impression I knew that he was going to be a challenge. Oddly enough, it would be me that makes the first misstep in the match and a hard right hook catches me off guard. I'm seeing stars, but the roundhouse kick that follows that sets me for a loop.

I suddenly feel like I'm moving through water, everything's blurred, all sounds muffled. I went from a finely tuned wrestling machine to an uncoordinated sloth. Bless his heart, he made the best of it, understanding what had happened. Slowly but surely I fend him off, but in my addled state I knew, I was pretty much screwed. The whole time, I couldn't tell you my name, who I was or who and why I was fighting. He mercifully ends it quickly. He hits his finish and I black out once more. All I could remember was the referee shouting, "One, Two, Three!" I still tried to get my shoulder up, but I was in no shape to do it.

It's embarassing, you know, to have a poor showing, even under such circumstances. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see I slipped up and ate a savage punch. While I didn't go down, I kind of wish I did, but nothing I can do about that, now is there? I could piss and moan about it, be a sour grapes kind of poor sport, but I'm passed that. That's not who I am or what I'm about. As I sat in the EMT's office, waiting to be checked for a potential concussion, I post a few tweets.

Lead by example, show them how a strong individual handles defeat. There's not alot of belly aching or crying, no shame in it either. He won. I lost. No excuses, no bullshit, just give the man the respect he's due. It's not a lucky shot when you know what you're doing and so many wrestlers forget this. They're too busy being prideful and trying to revise the outcome in a way that favors them. Leo Cook for example, complains about his foot being under the rope. I didn't see it. Ref didn't see it. No fans called him out on it. Only support he's got is his wife. If that's how he wants to conduct himself, I'm fine with that.

You can spin a story a million ways to fit your own narrative, but the facts are still the facts. Wyatt Cross beat me, fair and square. I pinned Leo Cook near but not under the ropes. It was a clean finish, he can shout till he's blue in the face but I know what happened. I was there, just as Wyatt knows what happened because he was right there too. Tonight just was not my night and all the props in the world to a talented young man. If I'm lucky, I'll get a rematch and redeem myself at a later date but for now, I'm happy to let him have his moment without complaint. You earned this buddy. Good job tonight.