Thursday September 8, 2011
Diamond Motorsports Headquarters- Meeting Room
Nashville, Tennessee
2:03 PM Local Time
SOUTHERN ILLINOIS SMACKDOWN[/b]
I winced inwardly as the latest issue of Short Track Weekly was slammed onto the conference table in front of me. On it, behind the blaring gold capitalized large-font letters, splayed a photo of me and Andrea. It wasn’t the most attractive shot at me, that’s for sure. My face was grim, my eyes closed at the moment of capture. Still, I looked a heck of a lot better than Andrea did- upisde down, blonde hair flying wildly. Another two tenths of a second, and the photographer would have caught her splash-landing into the mud puddle.
Needless to say, my ‘fight’ with Andrea was turning into quite the story in both the auto-racing and professional wrestling worlds.
“Sixty years,” boomed a deep voice, and I looked up at the speaker. Kevin Anderson was the type of man who’s bodyframe belied his voice. Thin and reedy, with a pair of wireframe glasses, Kevin looked like the type of person who still got bullied for his lunch money, even now into his forties. But he had one of the most naturally projective voices I had ever heard in anyone- save for perhaps my manager.
He was also the owner of Terrence’s team, and was none to happy as he glared at his audience. “Sixty years Diamond Motorsports has been around. My grandfather, “Diamond” Douglas Anderson, started this team on a $5000 bank loan. We’ve ran in ARCA every season since its inception. We’ve won six championships, finished second fourteen times, and have nearly two hundred victories claimed over the years, including six this year.”
There was a brief pause. “But NEVER have we been so embarrassed as we were two days ago. My two drivers, the faces of this organization, decided to have a shouting match in the midddle of victory lane! And then, their teams, and their WIVES, turn it into a massive mud battle royal, in front of half of ARCA!”
I opened my mouth to correct him- as the fight had hardly been every person for themselves, ‘battle-royal’ wasn’t the most appropriate term. But some sixth sense alerted Terrence to my intent, and I winced as his shoe drove into my shin, under the table. I darted a sullen glare at Terrence, but shut my mouth.
Kevin didn’t seem to have noticed. He put his hands on the table, and looked at each other occupant in the room. There were six of us- Terrence and I on one side of the room, while Wesley and his wife Andrea- her neck in a brace- sat at the other end. In between us, sat Jimbo McNulty, Terrence’s pot-bellied, full bearded crew chief, and Lester Ducharme, who held the exact same position on Wes’ team. Jimbo and Lester both sat motionless, stone faced, as Kevin looked the room over. Wesley, for his part, actually had the decency to look somewhat acquiescent in the face of his boss, but Andrea was sneering openly in defiance.
“This shit has been going on for half the season,” Kevin finally growled. “I don’t care what started all this, I don’t care who did what to who... but this stops now. I’m not going to let MY racing team be turned into a damned soap opera because my driver’s can’t play nice with each other!”
Kevin pulled his own chair out, and sat down in it, sighing as he did. “I watched the tape of the incident several times, from several different angles. The good folks of the ARCA fan-base apparently had their camera phones and YouTube accounts at the ready, so there was no shortage of good views. So here’s what we’re going to do... Jimbo, Lester... inform your pit crews that each of them will be fined two hundred dollars, which will be withheld from their next paycheck. And for losing control of your men, you both will receive a one thousand dollar fine as well.”
Both men remained stone-faced, glaring at Kevin, obviously unhappy with the decision. But neither spoke to object.
Kevin wasn’t done, and he looked from Terrence, to Wesley, then to me. “For interfereing in Wesley’s pit-road celebration, Terrence, I’m fining you five thousand dollars. You should have kept it behind closed doors.”
Terrence nodded curtly, and I bowed my head, sighing. It was more or less what I had expected, but I wasn’t happy about it. Kevin looked to the other end of the table. “Wes, you personally didn’t do anything wrong. But you’re responsible for the conduct any guest of yours with access passes, and that includes your wife. Therefore, I’m assessing a five hundred dollar fine... and Andrea will be banned from the pit area for the next two races.
Andrea puffed up like a fish, indignant at the punishment, and Wes opened his mouth to protest, but was stopped as Lester put a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him. Wes closed his mouth, but both Hamiltons continued to look mutinous.
“Now, gentlemen, there’s three races left in the season, and we have a chance at Wesley winning the championship, and Terrence finishing in the top ten, and winning rookie of the year. I, for one, would VERY much like to see that happen. But it’s not going to happen if we keep in-fighting like this. So play nice, for one more damned month, and let’s bring this baby home. Then Wes, you can go play in Nationwide, while the rest of us figure out where to go from here. Okay?”
Kevin rose to stand, but was stopped by a howl of outrage. Andrea had gotten to her feet, her posture and demeanor indicating that her apparent neck injury had miraculously healed. “What about HER?” she demanded, pointing a finger at me.
“Oh yes, Wendy,” Kevin looked directly at me, and smiled for the first time all meeting. “Ms. Briese, do tell your boss that he can expect another ten thousand dollar contribution to the Komen Foundation. I plan to donate the money gained from the fines I just assessed to that noble cause. Oh, and... good luck Saturday.”
My jaw dropped in astonishment, and next to me, I could hear Terrence choking on his own surprise. But my eardrums then shattered as an unearthly shriek filled the room.
“WHAT?!”
Even Wesley was outraged. “That woman assaulted my wife, Anderson. I should file charges after the damages...”
“I saw the tape from every angle, Wesley,” Kevin said shortly. “All I saw Ms. Briese do was try and calm her husband down, and then defend herself when Andrea attacked her. I don’t see any reason to punish that. As for elbowing Andrea, I think anyone can see that was a complete accident. And what were you doing behind her anyways, Ms. Hamilton? You were on the other side of the winner’s circle when the ceremony was interrupted.. what inspired you to come up behind her like that?”
Andrea’s mouth was open, but no sound was coming out. Either she had been struck speechless, or her voice had hit a tone that was was more suitable for canine ears. Wes, however, found his voice, and it sounded surly. “That’s bullshit, Anderson. She threw my wife into a mud puddle!”
“And your wife was dumb enough to attack her. Considering her occupation, you’d think that’d be considered inadvisable.”
“FUCK. THAT.” Wesley roared, standing up. “I’m never driving for you again, you son of a bitch.”
“After this season? Be my guest... or non-guest, considering the threat” Kevin said mildly. “But until then, you’re under contract to me, and I’d strongly advice you to fulfill it. Otherwise, you’ll be so damn deep in legal battles the boys over at Tri-Star won’t even bother grabbing the shovel to dig you out. It’d be such a shame to lose your Nationwide ride next year because your team isn’t willing to deal with the red tape, wouldn’t it?”
Some part of me thought that was a bluff, but if it was, Wesley didn’t call him on it. Instead, he grabbed Andrea’s hand, and the two wordlessly stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind them. Kevin looked nonplussed for a moment, then rose to his feet, shrugging with nonchalance.
“Jimbo, Lester, I want it to be known that if there’s any more incidents between anybody on your teams, anyone involved will be looking for another job before they can blink. Now, I’ll see you guys in Salem. Good luck.
Kevin stood up, and gave me one final smile, before leaving the room. Lester and Jimbo got up, silently leaving as well, shutting the door behind them. Leaving Terrence and I alone in the room. Slowly, we turned to look at each other.
“What just happened?” I asked.
Terrence shrugged, obviously as stunned as I was. “I think Kevin Anderson likes you. I thought you were going to be thrown under the bus there.”
I nodded. “I half expected you to be the one who pushed me,”
Terrence scoffed, although he was visibly wounded. “Why? Because I wasn’t happy with you for getting involved in all this? Listen, Wendy... this whole ‘your world, my world’ thing? Fuck it. Because you care every bit as much about me auto racing as I do about you wrestling. We’re in two damned difficult lines of work, and the only one’s we can really rely on for support is each other. So...”
Terrence scoffed, and shook his head. “I should have realized you weren’t in victory lane the other night for a fight, you were there to keep me out of trouble. And Andrea, well, the dumb bitch got what she had coming. I’m sorry if I doubted you.”
I smiled. “And I’m sorry for doubting you, too. You’re a stubborn man, Terrence Thompson, but a good one. You don’t do anything half-hearted... that’s what I like about you.”
Terrence got to his feet, and pulled me up. “And I like how you won’t waiver in the face of anyone, no matter what the odds, or consequences are. You might be a little to obsessed with the notion of fair-play. But you know what? Someone around here has to be. To keep the rebels like me in check.”
“You,” I scoffed, “A rebel?”
Terrence grinned, and pulled me in tighter. “Damn right, always out to break the rules. And do you know, what would be completely rebellious right now?” He grinned, and leaned forward, whispering in my ear.
I gaped at him in astonishment. “Absolutely not! Here?! What if someone were to walk in? I’d hate to even THINK about the fine that would bring?
Terrence shrugged. “We have the money.”
I paused for just a second, biting my lower lip. Then I reached up, and wrapped my arms around my husband’s neck. “Well, I guess the Komen foundation could always use another donation,” I whispered, before kissing him on the lips.
It was the best five-thousand dollar fine either of us had ever incurred.
==========================
From the private journal of Wendy Briese
10 September, 2011
It’s nice to know that sometimes, things do end up working out in the end.
When I walked into that winners circle, I had no intention of doing anything, except trying to calm my husband down. Things had gotten out of control from there, and while I can’t agree with Mr. Anderson’s assessment that I’m blameless in the matter, it does feel good when someone actually realizes your intentions.
Maybe I expect too much of myself. Maybe I’m too unwilling to let my hair down, and just enjoy the moment. I’m always constantly analyzing, and second-guessing everything I do. Even in a victory, I’m watching the tape, trying to see what I could have done better. And maybe Terry’s right... maybe I’m so obsesssed with the idea of fair play, I don’t actually give myself a chance to step back and appreciate the full aspect of the wonderful sport I’m in.
But it’s who I am, and its probably who I’ll always be. I’ve been like that since I was a child... one of the few aspects of my father that’s carrried on to the next generation. It’s the ultimate conundrum... what’s the point of trying to be a perfectionist, when you’re going to fail every time?
And yet, seeing where I stand now, as opposed to where Andrea stands, I’m reaffirmed in my belief that sometimes, despite everything, those who value fair play and honor do come through in the end. Maybe not as much as I’d like, and maybe the road is more difficult than it should be, but there is a destination to be had there. And its obtainable.
So as I sit here in the locker room, preparing for what will undoubtedly be the most important match of my FFW career, I can’t help but wonder if maybe the pendulum is going to swing the other way. Because there was no doubt that Unstoppable was a victory for the unscrupulous. Byte This wasn’t much better on that front, considering the actions of Isabella, Kitty, and Rori.
Maybe Sin & Sacrifice will see the momentum reverse.
Maybe it will start tonight, at Breaking Point.
Maybe I’ll be the one who finally pushes things in that direction.
It’s a vain assessment, that’s for sure. But why not me?
Someone has to do it
-WCBT
Diamond Motorsports Headquarters- Meeting Room
Nashville, Tennessee
2:03 PM Local Time
SOUTHERN ILLINOIS SMACKDOWN[/b]
I winced inwardly as the latest issue of Short Track Weekly was slammed onto the conference table in front of me. On it, behind the blaring gold capitalized large-font letters, splayed a photo of me and Andrea. It wasn’t the most attractive shot at me, that’s for sure. My face was grim, my eyes closed at the moment of capture. Still, I looked a heck of a lot better than Andrea did- upisde down, blonde hair flying wildly. Another two tenths of a second, and the photographer would have caught her splash-landing into the mud puddle.
Needless to say, my ‘fight’ with Andrea was turning into quite the story in both the auto-racing and professional wrestling worlds.
“Sixty years,” boomed a deep voice, and I looked up at the speaker. Kevin Anderson was the type of man who’s bodyframe belied his voice. Thin and reedy, with a pair of wireframe glasses, Kevin looked like the type of person who still got bullied for his lunch money, even now into his forties. But he had one of the most naturally projective voices I had ever heard in anyone- save for perhaps my manager.
He was also the owner of Terrence’s team, and was none to happy as he glared at his audience. “Sixty years Diamond Motorsports has been around. My grandfather, “Diamond” Douglas Anderson, started this team on a $5000 bank loan. We’ve ran in ARCA every season since its inception. We’ve won six championships, finished second fourteen times, and have nearly two hundred victories claimed over the years, including six this year.”
There was a brief pause. “But NEVER have we been so embarrassed as we were two days ago. My two drivers, the faces of this organization, decided to have a shouting match in the midddle of victory lane! And then, their teams, and their WIVES, turn it into a massive mud battle royal, in front of half of ARCA!”
I opened my mouth to correct him- as the fight had hardly been every person for themselves, ‘battle-royal’ wasn’t the most appropriate term. But some sixth sense alerted Terrence to my intent, and I winced as his shoe drove into my shin, under the table. I darted a sullen glare at Terrence, but shut my mouth.
Kevin didn’t seem to have noticed. He put his hands on the table, and looked at each other occupant in the room. There were six of us- Terrence and I on one side of the room, while Wesley and his wife Andrea- her neck in a brace- sat at the other end. In between us, sat Jimbo McNulty, Terrence’s pot-bellied, full bearded crew chief, and Lester Ducharme, who held the exact same position on Wes’ team. Jimbo and Lester both sat motionless, stone faced, as Kevin looked the room over. Wesley, for his part, actually had the decency to look somewhat acquiescent in the face of his boss, but Andrea was sneering openly in defiance.
“This shit has been going on for half the season,” Kevin finally growled. “I don’t care what started all this, I don’t care who did what to who... but this stops now. I’m not going to let MY racing team be turned into a damned soap opera because my driver’s can’t play nice with each other!”
Kevin pulled his own chair out, and sat down in it, sighing as he did. “I watched the tape of the incident several times, from several different angles. The good folks of the ARCA fan-base apparently had their camera phones and YouTube accounts at the ready, so there was no shortage of good views. So here’s what we’re going to do... Jimbo, Lester... inform your pit crews that each of them will be fined two hundred dollars, which will be withheld from their next paycheck. And for losing control of your men, you both will receive a one thousand dollar fine as well.”
Both men remained stone-faced, glaring at Kevin, obviously unhappy with the decision. But neither spoke to object.
Kevin wasn’t done, and he looked from Terrence, to Wesley, then to me. “For interfereing in Wesley’s pit-road celebration, Terrence, I’m fining you five thousand dollars. You should have kept it behind closed doors.”
Terrence nodded curtly, and I bowed my head, sighing. It was more or less what I had expected, but I wasn’t happy about it. Kevin looked to the other end of the table. “Wes, you personally didn’t do anything wrong. But you’re responsible for the conduct any guest of yours with access passes, and that includes your wife. Therefore, I’m assessing a five hundred dollar fine... and Andrea will be banned from the pit area for the next two races.
Andrea puffed up like a fish, indignant at the punishment, and Wes opened his mouth to protest, but was stopped as Lester put a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him. Wes closed his mouth, but both Hamiltons continued to look mutinous.
“Now, gentlemen, there’s three races left in the season, and we have a chance at Wesley winning the championship, and Terrence finishing in the top ten, and winning rookie of the year. I, for one, would VERY much like to see that happen. But it’s not going to happen if we keep in-fighting like this. So play nice, for one more damned month, and let’s bring this baby home. Then Wes, you can go play in Nationwide, while the rest of us figure out where to go from here. Okay?”
Kevin rose to stand, but was stopped by a howl of outrage. Andrea had gotten to her feet, her posture and demeanor indicating that her apparent neck injury had miraculously healed. “What about HER?” she demanded, pointing a finger at me.
“Oh yes, Wendy,” Kevin looked directly at me, and smiled for the first time all meeting. “Ms. Briese, do tell your boss that he can expect another ten thousand dollar contribution to the Komen Foundation. I plan to donate the money gained from the fines I just assessed to that noble cause. Oh, and... good luck Saturday.”
My jaw dropped in astonishment, and next to me, I could hear Terrence choking on his own surprise. But my eardrums then shattered as an unearthly shriek filled the room.
“WHAT?!”
Even Wesley was outraged. “That woman assaulted my wife, Anderson. I should file charges after the damages...”
“I saw the tape from every angle, Wesley,” Kevin said shortly. “All I saw Ms. Briese do was try and calm her husband down, and then defend herself when Andrea attacked her. I don’t see any reason to punish that. As for elbowing Andrea, I think anyone can see that was a complete accident. And what were you doing behind her anyways, Ms. Hamilton? You were on the other side of the winner’s circle when the ceremony was interrupted.. what inspired you to come up behind her like that?”
Andrea’s mouth was open, but no sound was coming out. Either she had been struck speechless, or her voice had hit a tone that was was more suitable for canine ears. Wes, however, found his voice, and it sounded surly. “That’s bullshit, Anderson. She threw my wife into a mud puddle!”
“And your wife was dumb enough to attack her. Considering her occupation, you’d think that’d be considered inadvisable.”
“FUCK. THAT.” Wesley roared, standing up. “I’m never driving for you again, you son of a bitch.”
“After this season? Be my guest... or non-guest, considering the threat” Kevin said mildly. “But until then, you’re under contract to me, and I’d strongly advice you to fulfill it. Otherwise, you’ll be so damn deep in legal battles the boys over at Tri-Star won’t even bother grabbing the shovel to dig you out. It’d be such a shame to lose your Nationwide ride next year because your team isn’t willing to deal with the red tape, wouldn’t it?”
Some part of me thought that was a bluff, but if it was, Wesley didn’t call him on it. Instead, he grabbed Andrea’s hand, and the two wordlessly stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind them. Kevin looked nonplussed for a moment, then rose to his feet, shrugging with nonchalance.
“Jimbo, Lester, I want it to be known that if there’s any more incidents between anybody on your teams, anyone involved will be looking for another job before they can blink. Now, I’ll see you guys in Salem. Good luck.
Kevin stood up, and gave me one final smile, before leaving the room. Lester and Jimbo got up, silently leaving as well, shutting the door behind them. Leaving Terrence and I alone in the room. Slowly, we turned to look at each other.
“What just happened?” I asked.
Terrence shrugged, obviously as stunned as I was. “I think Kevin Anderson likes you. I thought you were going to be thrown under the bus there.”
I nodded. “I half expected you to be the one who pushed me,”
Terrence scoffed, although he was visibly wounded. “Why? Because I wasn’t happy with you for getting involved in all this? Listen, Wendy... this whole ‘your world, my world’ thing? Fuck it. Because you care every bit as much about me auto racing as I do about you wrestling. We’re in two damned difficult lines of work, and the only one’s we can really rely on for support is each other. So...”
Terrence scoffed, and shook his head. “I should have realized you weren’t in victory lane the other night for a fight, you were there to keep me out of trouble. And Andrea, well, the dumb bitch got what she had coming. I’m sorry if I doubted you.”
I smiled. “And I’m sorry for doubting you, too. You’re a stubborn man, Terrence Thompson, but a good one. You don’t do anything half-hearted... that’s what I like about you.”
Terrence got to his feet, and pulled me up. “And I like how you won’t waiver in the face of anyone, no matter what the odds, or consequences are. You might be a little to obsessed with the notion of fair-play. But you know what? Someone around here has to be. To keep the rebels like me in check.”
“You,” I scoffed, “A rebel?”
Terrence grinned, and pulled me in tighter. “Damn right, always out to break the rules. And do you know, what would be completely rebellious right now?” He grinned, and leaned forward, whispering in my ear.
I gaped at him in astonishment. “Absolutely not! Here?! What if someone were to walk in? I’d hate to even THINK about the fine that would bring?
Terrence shrugged. “We have the money.”
I paused for just a second, biting my lower lip. Then I reached up, and wrapped my arms around my husband’s neck. “Well, I guess the Komen foundation could always use another donation,” I whispered, before kissing him on the lips.
It was the best five-thousand dollar fine either of us had ever incurred.
==========================
From the private journal of Wendy Briese
10 September, 2011
It’s nice to know that sometimes, things do end up working out in the end.
When I walked into that winners circle, I had no intention of doing anything, except trying to calm my husband down. Things had gotten out of control from there, and while I can’t agree with Mr. Anderson’s assessment that I’m blameless in the matter, it does feel good when someone actually realizes your intentions.
Maybe I expect too much of myself. Maybe I’m too unwilling to let my hair down, and just enjoy the moment. I’m always constantly analyzing, and second-guessing everything I do. Even in a victory, I’m watching the tape, trying to see what I could have done better. And maybe Terry’s right... maybe I’m so obsesssed with the idea of fair play, I don’t actually give myself a chance to step back and appreciate the full aspect of the wonderful sport I’m in.
But it’s who I am, and its probably who I’ll always be. I’ve been like that since I was a child... one of the few aspects of my father that’s carrried on to the next generation. It’s the ultimate conundrum... what’s the point of trying to be a perfectionist, when you’re going to fail every time?
And yet, seeing where I stand now, as opposed to where Andrea stands, I’m reaffirmed in my belief that sometimes, despite everything, those who value fair play and honor do come through in the end. Maybe not as much as I’d like, and maybe the road is more difficult than it should be, but there is a destination to be had there. And its obtainable.
So as I sit here in the locker room, preparing for what will undoubtedly be the most important match of my FFW career, I can’t help but wonder if maybe the pendulum is going to swing the other way. Because there was no doubt that Unstoppable was a victory for the unscrupulous. Byte This wasn’t much better on that front, considering the actions of Isabella, Kitty, and Rori.
Maybe Sin & Sacrifice will see the momentum reverse.
Maybe it will start tonight, at Breaking Point.
Maybe I’ll be the one who finally pushes things in that direction.
It’s a vain assessment, that’s for sure. But why not me?
Someone has to do it
-WCBT
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