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| Coming Down Later that night, I came out of my trance like state. I wasn�t sure how long I had sat in that room reliving days gone by, but I did know I had cotton mouth like a motherfucker, and my stomach sounded like a drunk Dwarven Barbarian in Rage. I got my bearings about me and headed out the door of the office, and down to the ground floor. The door man, Niles, asked me if i wanted him to call for the car, I thanked him and told him that wouldn�t be neccissary. I was going to take a walk. The fresh air would do me some good. The Walk It was cold outside, the temperature, according to the scoreboard at Montgomery Bell Academy down the street from my home, was 19, with a wind chill that made it fell like 7. I turned the collar up on my leather jacket and put on a sock hat my NEW trademark colored aqua Oakley frogskins. I took a deep breathe of the cold brisk Nashville air and started walking towards Vanderbilt University. It was just ahead a few blocks. As a member of the Alumni Trustee Foundation, I had access to all the campus. I wanted to at least give this �match� a bit of research with the extra week to prepare. My destination would be the Peabody Law Library. Only a half mile walk, damn its cold. Hall Of Knowledge Here I was, the grandest library in law school history. Refined and restored to likes greater than Harvard or Yale combined. I walked over to the librarian and asked if there were specific sections of the library in which i could research the New England area at length. She directed me to a place that would grant me knowledge that would change my world forever!!! The Curse Once the kindly old librarian had shown me the place to conduct my research, I chose a large dusty book from amongst the many large dusty old books and took my leave in front of the fireplace in a large armchair. I began pouring overt the historical archives of the greater New England area, and more over Bean Town USA, Boston, Massachusetts. I read the history of Pilgrims, to the Boston Tea Party, from the industrial revolution, and that is when i hit pay dirt. I read of a player trade in the major league baseball ranks that changed the city of Boston forever. It was called the Curse of the Bambino. Yes, it may have been a sad day when Ted Williams passed away and was put on ice, but the blackest day in Boson baseball history was the day they traded Babe Ruth. Sure, Boston has had its success in other sporting avenues, the Celtics, the Patriots, the Bruins, hell, even at the collegiate level Boston College has turned heads. But what is it about this curse that cannot be broken? Will it be banished forever by the dimwitted stable of ne�er do wells of sports entertainers that call themselves the Pain Killers? I assure you that i have wrestled each of you individually and in group settings. I have even fought along side you and I say this, and know that it is true, there is nothing about you that kills pain. Infact you cause it. Don�t get ahead of yourselves boys, that wasn�t a compliment. You don�t cause your pain in the one place you get paid to do so, a wrestling ring. No, you cause pain in the bottom line of the IoA�s finances. You cause pains with attendance. You cause pain by running off talent to horde the place for yourselves. I guess you could say that you boys have been given a bad rap. But I won�t. Sure, maybe being called the Boston Trifecta wasn�t fair, there is obviously more than thee of you all. A more fitting title I appear may be in order. How about the Boston Pops? Yeah, that has a good ring to it. So, Mr. Chris Reinhardt, Mr. RiverDragon, Mr. World Champion, please do me a few concessional favors. One, shine up that belt, because Febuary 9th pal, I am walking out of Heatwave the IoA champion, and there isn�t anything you can do to stop it. And don�t bother training harder to try and win, you can�t stop the curse. So Chris, pack up your violin, because the Eternal Heel is closing the curtain, the shows over, get ready to give me my fucking belt. Ladies and gentlemen, the Boston Pops re about to play their farewell show, I guarantee it. The Docks I left the library and decided to hail a cab. I told the driver to take me down to the docks to watch the natives do their whole �fish catching� routine. If I was to net the biggest guppy in the waters of Bean Town, I was going to have to watch the pro�s at work. After seeing how easy it is to not only net, but to toss around, scale, and gut a Boston fish, I was ready to head to the bridge. A bridge that would prove to be more than just a connection of two bodies of land, separated by a body of water. But a bridge that would gap two paths. The path of light, to prevail over the Boston pops on one side. On the other side, the path of darkness, in which resides the stench of America�s adulteries, the man they call Pledge Alligence. To Be Continued |
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