Post by Sahara on Jan 26, 2023 9:09:11 GMT -5
PREVIOUSLY
~~~~~
AND NOW
PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT
As I stood gazing out across the emerald gridiron, I reflected upon the last week of my life–
On Sunday afternoon, my LFL game was a complete and utter disaster. The undefeated NY Pride lost our first game of the season, against a team we had already smashed.
It marked the first game of the season I didn’t have at least one touchdown pass.
I had no excuse.
They wanted it more… so they got it.
We stalled out and played like shit, for lack of a better word… and as the starting quarterback; that’s on me. Hey, I know what they say, ‘Any Given Sunday’, and I get it… it’s a collective effort, and we came up short. But I can’t help but take the blame. The ball was in my hands and I coulda’ done something more…
Coulda.
Shoulda.
Woulda.
In a game of inches, none of those things will give you that inch. The only thing that will… is fighting for it.
I didn’t.
The coach was disappointed – to say the least – the fans were disappointed – to say even leaster (is that even a word?) – but most of all, I was disappointed in myself.
My only consolation was that I hopped a flight to Vegas that night and took part in the CCPE versus the world extravaganza. And yeah, I’m a client of CCPE… what of it?! Oh, and by the way, my husband and I were successful in kicking the ever loving shit out of Easton and Emiko… so I guess ya win some and ya lose some. Maybe my mind was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
At least my husband seemed to make up with Easton so we can finally move on from that whole debacle.
And that brings us to OCW Monday Night Massacre!
It was supposed to be the night I’d wash the stench of that dismal game off my hands and move on.
It was supposed to be MY night.
The great and powerful Wizard of Welsh had everything in order… the Lincoln picked me up at the airport just as I had requested… on time. The interior was at 71 degrees exactly, again, just as I had requested. And it came complete with a fully stocked bar. Say what you want about that man, he knows how to treat his stars.
I even had my own private dressing room at the arena. The man rolled out the proverbial red carpet for his favorite champion, and I was set to have an amazing night. I was so damn excited to bring Sahara back to the OCW, I couldn’t wait to open the show!
It was going so well!
And then Crash happened…
That stupi–
SHIT!
I knew the second the ball left my hand that I overthrew it–
“C’mon, bish! You’ve gotta jump to catch that!”, I scream in an exasperated tone as I clap my gloved hands together a few times.
“C’mon, Lauren! Get your head outta your ass!”, I yelled at myself.
“My bad,” I motioned my receivers back to the line. “My mind was elsewhere! Let’s bring it in and go again!”
I gotta remind myself these were just practice squad players and not my usual receivers… so I had to be spot on if I wanted to avoid the wrath of my coach, Dolly Waters.
Talk about a drill sergeant.
Yanking my chinstrap down in exasperation, I pushed my helmet up and rested it on the top of my head and quickly looked over the playcalls attached to my forearm. Jesus, Lauren, how do you fuck that up in practice? It was a simple out route.
As the rest of the practice squad ran back to the huddle, I motioned for the waterboy, who ran over squirted water into my mouth. Which I swished around before spitting on the turf between his feet.
“Whaddya think, Bobby Boucher? See any talent out here today, aside from me?”
I could see by the look on his face that I’d hurt his little feelings.
“Good God. What’s wrong?”, I asked… not that I really cared.
The waterboy shook his dejected little head, “Could you not call me that? If the other girls hear you, they’ll all start doing it.”
I rolled my eyes, “Relax, it’s just a joke. Besides, who doesn’t like that movie?!” I turned back as my girls returned to the line, “C’mon girls, huddle it up, let’s try this again…”
As the waterboy walked away, I smirked and turned toward him, “Oh hey, Boucher! H2O sucks! Gatorade is better than water…” This prompted a laugh from the squad as he shook his head and walked back to the sideline.
“You’re hilarious!”
“Duke!”
I heard my name called from the sidelines.
Fuck me. Here comes the fun police–
“DUKE!” Dolly Waters repeated my name, only louder this time. “Get your head outta your ass and get some goddamn reps in before A squad arrives! The last thing you need to be doing is messing with the staff after your performance on Sunday!”
I pulled my helmet back down, “Aye, aye, captain!”
“Don’t make me come out there, smartass!”
“Alright girls, huddle up… Eagle 3 Post Up on 2. Let’s turn and burn, baby. Ready?!”
“Wait!” One of the girls chimed in. “Does that mean 3 wideouts on a 2 count?”
“What the fuck!”, I sighed. “Yes! Of course that’s what it means. And you can’t be asking that in the huddle. You gotta get used to doing things exactly as you’d do them in a gametime situation. I call the play, you know the play. That’s your job. If I audible, you can’t be all like… OMG Lauren, what’s that mean?! Are we running the ball now?!
“The defense is gonna be listening to everything we say… so seriously, they don’t need a detailed explanation. Got it?!
“Good. Now… Eagle 3 Post Up on 2.
“Ready?!
“BREAK!”
As the rest of the girls yelled break in unison, they scattered to their offensive positions as I scanned the defense for blitzers or shadows. Of course, it’s much easier in practice when you’re not having to run for your life because your offensive line is… offensive. I mean, I’d never say that out loud, but it is what it is. Unless I already have. If so, I’m sorry! It’s also nice knowing the defense isn’t looking to crush me since it’s just practice, pads or not–
“Alright girls…” I placed my hands between my center's legs and motioned for my receivers to set, “Set. One… one… GO!”
Taking the ball, I dropped back as they scattered. The offensive and defensive lines collided, forming an invisible void around me. Damnit, one of the linebackers is slipping around the chip, I gotta bootleg wide right and started runnin’ for my life! I eyed two of the girls running the cross route smashing into each other, and I couldn’t help but laugh mid-stride. Streaming down the sideline was my Eagle 3.
My target.
And away we go! The line had completely collapsed so I wound up and fired deep! And then noticed the reporter standing right near the sideline exactly where I threw the ball… I grabbed the sides of my helmet anticipating the collision–
Here is commmmmmesss… look up dumbass! MOVE! MOVE!
In hindsight, I probably should have said that out loud instead of in my head–
Oof!
And there it is. BOOM! With a full on dive, Eagle 3 creamed that poor schmuck!
“Nice catch though,” I shrugged.
Wait for it…
Waaaaaiiiit for it…
“DUKE!”
There it is…
“Yeah, coach?!” I asked as I jogged up toward the sideline.
Dolly nodded as she smacked me on the ass, “Nice pass.”
What? Well file that one under C for curveball… and here I thought she was gonna come out here smacking her whistle against my helmet for taking out sideline reporters.
Annnnnd that’s when I realized why she didn’t care.
If it wasn’t wrestling's most famed journalist, Mave Deltzer.
I laughed, thinking had I known that was him, I’d have done it on purpose. Though I suppose a happy accident is nothing to scoff at.
As I approached, he looked up at me so I reached out a hand and helped him to his feet, though I don’t know why. “Nice pass”, he quipped as he dusted himself off. “Do you mind if I get some media time with you? You got a big match coming up this Sunday at Decadence and wanted to get some words.”
I scoffed, “Why, so you can speculate how terrible my match is gonna be, cuz I have five moves and no spinning reverse plancha hurricurannas?”
“Come on, Sahara, don’t be like that. Those are just my opinions.”
“Yeah, opinions that your stupid IWC stans parrot like lemmings and take as gospel.”
He nodded, “Fair enough. But I can’t help what other people say or do, just because I feel a certain way, doesn’t mean they have to agree. I’ll tell ya what, you say it, and I’ll print it exactly like you said it, right here, right now. No editorializing.”
I sighed while looking around the field, noting everyone was taking a break. That’s when I noticed Dolly sarcastically wave at me knowing I got caught up in this douchebags web of questions he’s surely gonna twist on me.
Youuuuuuu bitch, I thought, while having a laugh at my own expense.
“Fine, whatever. Whaddya wanna know, Mave?” I asked as I pulled my helmet off, trying to fix up my hair as best as possible.
“Full pads, huh?”
“What?”
“The practice, you’re in full pads today?”
“Oh, right. Yeah. Apparently my dismal performance on Sunday prompted the need to work harder… that’s why I’m here with the practice squad today.”
“So on Massacre–”
“Mediocrity,” I corrected him.
“Right. Okay, um, well, let’s pretend I said Massacre because you were there, and that stopped it from being mediocre!”
I shrugged, “Touché. Fair enough. Even though that’s total bullshit. Go ahead… ask your little questions.”
“Okay, so on Monday, you pranced around out there and made a mockery of wrestling – again – and a rightfully upset Crash, well, crashed your little party, who you’ll also be facing this weekend with your title on the line! Any comment on that turn of events?”
I rolled my eyes at the absurdity of the question, “Any comments?! You’ve gotta be… f’n kidding me, Mave. I was in heels, and a dress, giving out awards… I sure as hell wasn’t expecting that loser to come up and Will Smith me. I mean, what the hell was that all about?!
“I coulda’ been seriously injured.
“As for bein’ in the ring with him this Sunday, oh that’s right! I don’t care! I got an LFL game that SAME day, which is far more important than facing Crash, and then I’ll be flyin’ across the country to defend my Paradigm title against that schmuck… which I totally plan on finding by then. Turns out my husband threw it off the balcony on New Years Eve cuz I had thrown his phone off the balcony a few weeks ago… but that’s besides the point. Crash is nothing.
“A nobody.
“Not a has been, not even a never was… but a never gonna be.
“He might be able to step up, but he sure as hell won’t keep up. I don’t care how many flips he does… I don’t care how many dives he does… and I don’t care how many of his little rugrats he brings backstage to make himself relevant. He’s still gonna come up short.”
Mave looked at me and furrowed his brow, “Sahara, get real. Crash is a decorated champion and sure-fire hall of–”
“Woah, woah, woah…” I interjected. “Stop right there. Don’t even say hall of famer. Past, present, or future… no chance. Maybe in your little Dodge, Duck, Dip, Dive and Dodge wrestling hall of fame based on stupid moves nobody remembers a second after they take place… but he ain’t ever gonna transcend wrestling like I have. I’m not only a professional football player, but a movie star, and the premier OCW Paradigm Champion of the World… ”
“Of the world? Okay… um, duly noted. So um, how exactly have you been training for your matchup against Crash if you’re spending all of your time practicing football or filming… what’s that show?”
I rolled my eyes, “What’s that show?! The Fall of Madison Tower… which is only the highest rated show on the Splat Network, thank you very much.”
“My bad… okay… okay, so, um… how are you training exactly?”
Leaning my head back, I thought about it for a moment… and then laughed.
“You really wanna see?”
“Absolutely!”
“Alright, I can show ya, come with me…”
~~~~~
TO BE CONTINUED…
