Post by George Duke on Feb 20, 2007 14:07:01 GMT -6
The afternoon sun is out, but the air is cold. The wind howls around the corners and down the streets in The City of Brotherly Love. Duke is bundled up in a long Kashmir coat with a tweed cap and gloves. A stubby cigar clenched beneath his teeth, the smoke mixes with his breath in rhythmic blast of smoke and steam. The sidewalks are never properly salted, but George has gotten used to that. Just be careful, and you might not slip and break your ass.
He's been walking the city since morning, thinking and planning. The scenery is so nice in the snow. He's stopped at the lakes, staring out across the frozen pond from inside a big stone Gazebo. The white, snowy trees rise at the end of the lake to create a lovely picture-esque scene. This is the way it always is with big matches. George always stares out at the beauty and calm of the world before an important bout. He goes from the quiet scenery, and then jumps headlong into an arena packed with screaming people to get in the ring and beat another man half to death. It's a shocking contrast, a calm before the storm. It always seems to sharpen his edge and mentally prepare him for a war.
"Through trials and tribulations, I've has always stood strong. From the destruction of my career after the mishap with Sammartino and Morales, to the recent financial mess with GCW - George Duke has stood strong. In the carnivals when there wasn't good food, living like a gypsy - George Duke stood strong. Through everything,I have done what I've had to do - and did it my own damn way. At this stage in my career, every match is important. I have managed to keep my body intact, and in pretty good shape, even though most people in this business have retired by my age. How long can I hold out? How long can I stay this way? Will I be strong and healthy forever? Or will I soon be limping around like Terry Funk? Every match brings me closer to these answers. To be in control, to be the winner - to have the power. To do something worth while, something you love, for a living. It's very fulfilling, and I feels like wrestling is in my blood - it's part of me, now. I've stuck it out through everything for this sport, but the main reason is - George Duke likes to hurt people."
Duke opens his mouth wide enough to let the cigar drop down onto the ice. He stares out into the distance at the trees. He smiles a sad half smile as he thinks about the highway that is on the other side of the trees. He turns around to look back into the city. A gray cloud hangs low over the high rise buildings and dirty streets. Crime, poverty, filth and garbage - everything is a mess of colors and noise. No wonder George feels at home in the ring. He leans against the railing, looking at this contrast just behind him the entire time.
"Now this match at First Rights is my most important match in POW so far. It's the title shot - it's a stepping stone to the Heavyweight Gold. It's also a match against a tough opponent - and I have no desire to stop my undefeated streak. I want the win. I want the number on my record, I want the belt around my waist and I want the purse money at the end of the night. I eat, breath, sweat and bleed this sport, Vic. I've beat men like you, because I know how to do it. One of us is going to fall at First Rights - and it won't be George Duke. No... it God damn well won't be George Duke."
Duke brushes the ice and snow off the railing as he turns and leaves. The ice falls onto the frozen surface of the beautiful and quiet lake, as Duke walks back into the ugly, unforgiving city.
He's been walking the city since morning, thinking and planning. The scenery is so nice in the snow. He's stopped at the lakes, staring out across the frozen pond from inside a big stone Gazebo. The white, snowy trees rise at the end of the lake to create a lovely picture-esque scene. This is the way it always is with big matches. George always stares out at the beauty and calm of the world before an important bout. He goes from the quiet scenery, and then jumps headlong into an arena packed with screaming people to get in the ring and beat another man half to death. It's a shocking contrast, a calm before the storm. It always seems to sharpen his edge and mentally prepare him for a war.
"Through trials and tribulations, I've has always stood strong. From the destruction of my career after the mishap with Sammartino and Morales, to the recent financial mess with GCW - George Duke has stood strong. In the carnivals when there wasn't good food, living like a gypsy - George Duke stood strong. Through everything,I have done what I've had to do - and did it my own damn way. At this stage in my career, every match is important. I have managed to keep my body intact, and in pretty good shape, even though most people in this business have retired by my age. How long can I hold out? How long can I stay this way? Will I be strong and healthy forever? Or will I soon be limping around like Terry Funk? Every match brings me closer to these answers. To be in control, to be the winner - to have the power. To do something worth while, something you love, for a living. It's very fulfilling, and I feels like wrestling is in my blood - it's part of me, now. I've stuck it out through everything for this sport, but the main reason is - George Duke likes to hurt people."
Duke opens his mouth wide enough to let the cigar drop down onto the ice. He stares out into the distance at the trees. He smiles a sad half smile as he thinks about the highway that is on the other side of the trees. He turns around to look back into the city. A gray cloud hangs low over the high rise buildings and dirty streets. Crime, poverty, filth and garbage - everything is a mess of colors and noise. No wonder George feels at home in the ring. He leans against the railing, looking at this contrast just behind him the entire time.
"Now this match at First Rights is my most important match in POW so far. It's the title shot - it's a stepping stone to the Heavyweight Gold. It's also a match against a tough opponent - and I have no desire to stop my undefeated streak. I want the win. I want the number on my record, I want the belt around my waist and I want the purse money at the end of the night. I eat, breath, sweat and bleed this sport, Vic. I've beat men like you, because I know how to do it. One of us is going to fall at First Rights - and it won't be George Duke. No... it God damn well won't be George Duke."
Duke brushes the ice and snow off the railing as he turns and leaves. The ice falls onto the frozen surface of the beautiful and quiet lake, as Duke walks back into the ugly, unforgiving city.
