Now What?

Refueled One

Location: Tampa, Florida: The Yuengling Center
April 8, 2019

The sound of running water is heard in the background as the image of a locker room comes into focus. Black wrestling boots, red and black colored pants and a metal knee brace litter the floor as a brown leather bag and a grey colored aluminum suitcase rest on the wooden bench. The hard pounding water begins to subside with three creaking turns and a few seconds later a door shuts. As the steam from the shower slowly starts to evaporate in the chilling locker room air a figure starts to emerge among the fog, and that image is none other than Scott Stevens.

The tune of a strangling cat is struck as the Texan uses the towel he was wearing over his head to clear away the steam on the mirror and when he does his emerald eyes become fixated on his appearance. However, Stevens isn’t looking at his faded tattoos or the numerous scars that riddle his body worse than a slice of Swiss cheese. Nor is he fixated on the fresh whelps across his chest from being chopped to death by Lindsay Troy or the ones on his back from hitting the ropes. There is something different. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul and the former world champion’s eyes tell a story of much more than defeat and missed opportunity.

The fire and the passion that everyone knows and loves about Scott Stevens aren’t flickering anymore in the shades of green. In fact, there isn’t even an ember because after his showing in the ring tonight left him humiliated……..

That can’t be it because Stevens has suffered worse forms of humiliation.

What could it be?


No because Stevens has been humbled before when he became cocky and overlooked his opponents, but this wasn’t being humbled because he didn’t overlook the Queen of the Ring.

If it’s not humility or humble than what is it?

Stevens grabs the porcelain sink frame with both hands as he lowers his head and lets out a long sigh before echoing two simple words….

“Now what?”

The two words of a broken individual.

Location: Houston, Texas: The Stevens Household
April 9, 2019, 6:30 PM

“On The Road Again…..”

The tune by Willie Nelson vibrates the ear drums as the image comes into view of a black iron gate with a large, golden “S” in the center of it. As the song fades the only thing heard is the purring of the engine as the black, Cadillac Escalade sits outside the gate for a good five minutes. As we get a closer look of the inside of the vehicle we see it is none other than Scott Stevens behind the wheel. Stevens has an exhausted look upon his face and he lets out a sigh before reaching up and clicking a button on a remote attached to his visor to open up the gate. As the gate slowly opens, Stevens doesn’t appear happy or sad he just appears to be tired as he lets out another sigh as he puts the SUV into drive and slowly makes his way up the driveway towards his house.

As he approaches the house he hits another button on the remote and the garage door begins to open before he pulls inside. The braking lights flare up before disappearing as the vehicle is put into park and the engine is turned off. However, the driver’s door doesn’t open up right away. As we peer into the window we see that Scott has his forehead leaning against the wood grain of the steering wheel. The Texan lets out a sigh as he slowly brings his head up and places it against the leather behind him as he stares at the ceiling of the Escalade.

“Be strong.”

Stevens mutters to himself, but it sounds like he has trouble believing his own advice before he snaps to as he opens the door and steps out.

“Can’t let them see you like this.”

Stevens says to himself as he shuts the door and heads towards the back to gather his luggage before heading inside. As soon as he enters the house he is attacked my two little monsters who shout…..


Scott’s son and daughter attack their father and are happy he’s home as he gives both of them a big ole hug.

“Welcome home.”

An angelic voice is heard as Stevens’ wife appears to greet her husband. Scott stands up still holding onto his children and gives his wife a kiss.

“You’re just in time for dinner.”

Lisa says after the kiss.

“Jack, help me set the table while daddy puts his things away and gets comfortable.”

Lisa says to her son as her husband heads towards the master bedroom.


15 minutes into dinner.


Scott appears to be a thousand miles away as he picks at his spaghetti and smiles and nods as his children tell their father about what has been going on at school and other activities they have been up to. Lisa notices this, but doesn’t say anything as she doesn’t want to disappoint her children knowing her husband isn’t giving his kids his full attention.


20 minutes later.


“Dinner was great babe. It hit the spot.”

Scott says to his wife as he wipes his mouth clean.

“Thanks, and its bed time for you two.”

Lisa says as the children groan.

“Lisa to your mother.”

Scott says as they get up from the table and leave to get ready for bed and Lisa does the same but to collect the dirty plates.

“I’ll do that.”

Scott says and Lisa hands him the plates.

“Come to bed when you’ve collected your thoughts.”

Lisa replies as she heads towards upstairs towards the kids bedrooms.


Several hours later.


The door to the master bedroom slowly opens and Stevens walks into the room after a Houston Astros victory over the New York Yankees and he sees his wife sitting in the bed watching something on her tablet.

“What you watching?”

Stevens asks his wife as he takes off his Nike shirt and tosses it to the floor before climbing in bed.

“My loss to Sheline Carrigan at MVW 89.”

Lisa replies as she turns the tablet around to show her husband who doesn’t respond and simply smiles awkwardly and nods as he brings the covers over his body.

“Is there something you want to talk about?”

Lisa asks her husband as she goes back to watching her match.

“No, why?”

Stevens asks nonchalantly, but Lisa sees through the bullshit.

“I don’t know…….maybe because you seemed a million miles away since you got home.”

She replies and Scott kisses her on the forehead.”


Scott says as he turns to his side facing away from his wife who sighs and places the tablet on the night stand.

“Adapt and overcome. That’s what you do best.”

Lisa informs her husband as she turns off her lamp and rolls over to go to sleep and the last image seen is the wide eyed gaze of the former world champion staring into the darkness.


Adapt and Overcome……



Easier said than done.

What else needs to be said other than I’m broken: physically, spiritually, but most importantly mentally.

With all the things that had been done to me during my five year tenure in High Octane Wrestling before we returned you would’ve thought I had been broken then, but I wasn’t. My undefeated streak and first title opportunity which resulted in a loss to Kirsta Lewis would’ve sent many people leaving HOW and back to whatever Fisher Price wrestling promotion they came from. The Polish Sausage incident in New York City during the LSD Championship Street Fight would have resulted in most people quitting the next day, but not me. The time when I was into recycling to help make the world a better place that ended with me being publicly humiliated, forced to do the J-O-B to Noah Hanson and suspended for several months before being brought back on necessity because of injuries or contract negotiations falling through. Granted, I brought that negativity on myself, but most people would’ve went into hiding under some rock some place and never returned from the embarrassment. Lastly, the incident with Tara Michaels-Davidson would not only have made people quit but probably have them second guessing whether they should continue to live. However, I didn’t choose either of those options.

If all that couldn’t break you than how could’ve Lindsay fucking Troy do it?!?!?!?!?

I don’t know either to be honest until the match was over.

Did I underestimate her?

No, I didn’t because the last woman I underestimated I was made her bitch during the era of the Lonesome Loser. I took Lindsay as seriously as any person I step into the ring with and it wasn’t enough.

Did I get over confident?

No, because I knew if I got cocky I would lose because that’s what cost me the Television title against Kirsta.

It’s hard to fathom busting your ass for a month training, dieting, and studying for an opponent you’ve never been in the ring with before and you still lose. You do all the P.R. work traveling from state to state to hype up the return of High Octane Wrestling and your first match back in three years with one of the biggest free agent signings in recent memory to the company and you lose. You’ve done everything you’ve done before that has brought you success and she’s nowhere to be seen expect for a few days before the event and cuts a very short, but straight to the point promo and ends up the victor.

I’ve been competing all around the world the last three years to keep myself in shape in case one day Lee did decide to get the band back together. I thought that would give me an advantage in the tournament because the only time I had heard anything about Lindsay Troy in recent memory was when broke the news of her signing. Other than that Lindsay has been a ghost just like a certain Madman.

That loss broke me.

Kirsta couldn’t do it.

Tara couldn’t do it.

Lindsay fucking Troy did it.

She did the impossible and I have to give props where props are do. Congratulations Lindz, you crushed the heart and soul of the rough and tough Texan.

(Golf clap)

My motivation to come back to HOW was a thousand percent when I got the phone call from Lee, but eight hundred and forty-five words later has me second guessing my decision to come back.

Why bust my ass training and promoting when my opponents can’t put in the same effort the HOW lifers put in on a weekly basis? If half-assing it in HOW gets you victories these days than what’s the point of trying anymore? You might as well cue up the Little River Band and get Noah Hanson on speed dial because that’s what I see in my future and I’d rather bow out now than return to being the Lonesome Loser. Save whatever dignity and self-respect I still have left than suffer another embarrassing defeat like I did.

Something is going to have to convince me to actually give a shit going forward.

Something is going to have to convince me to give my heart and soul to this company like I did for five years out of my life.

Something like the ICON championship can do that.

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