Shilo Valiant vs. Katie Steward

[SnowQueenSCW]

Send in the Clown

Chapter 13: Couch Conversations

Is it possible that I invite these beatdowns upon myself? Am I a glutton for punishment? Or is it just the ‘way things are’?

I mean, let’s think about this for a moment. Who else has had their ass handed them in such a manner more than me, Shilo Valiant?

First, I get put through table after table in the months that preceded RTG. Then, I get put through more tables and shoved into ladders at RTG in a TLC match. Then, I go through a FLAMING table and then get shoved through plexiglass pods and chains of metal in a chamber match, and then – as if that wasn’t enough – I get a beatdown by Jabba the Hut and his little henchman named ‘Ricky’.

Now, to be clear, I don’t know if that heckling laughing cretin in “Return of the Jedi” was actually named Ricky, but come on! No one else named him and it’s a close enough analogy to that mass of sweat and puss known as Rudy!

And I can’t even say I was still ‘being smart’ at this point by hiding my damaged knee. At this point, everyone in SCW had figured out that Shilo Valiant, the Hall of Famer, was wrestling with a handicap. I basically became the Matt Hodges of 2021 – remember that? Geez, that was one thing I couldn’t be proud of. What was next? I open a clinic like him and get others in? “Clown School”! Yeah, teach the fakes like Ace and Gio how to really entertain the masses!

Still, I guess I could be grateful that Rudy didn’t sit on me or something. I’d be more disgusted if that slug had sweated his slime on me then the beatdown his little puppet had played on me. Even so, while Ricky’s behaviour was as fickle as plastic bag stuck in an updraft, he still possessed the skills that had impressed me at Rise to Greatness.

The beatdown had done two things to me, actually. First, it had made me realize that this confrontation with Ricky had to happen. Now, I don’t want to overuse my ‘promo material’ here, but it’s best to explain, at least, that I had come to that conclusion. Ricky’s flopping back and forth was anything but entertaining in SCW – and that slug Rudy was just plan boring the hell out of me with his constant whining and shit/slime trails that followed him wherever he went. Ricky could very well have been Adrenaline champion at either RTG or Apocalypse, in that chamber, if he had just dropped all that weight that was Rudy Powell. He needed to learn a lesson or two when it came to the entertainment and wrestling going hand and hand in SCW – at least while I was around.

Which lead me to the second thing that I realized after beatdown number “insert number”, I honestly had lost track at how many times I’d suffered a beatdown at the hands of someone trying to make a name through me in the last six months. But the one thing that was clear was Marina’s words – the idea that I only had a few of those left that I would be able to survive.

Let’s not fool ourselves here, guys. I knew that I was on borrowed time. I knew that, sooner or later, I would need to step away from SCW again in order to take that surgery that would fix my knee. I knew that the window that this surgery would fix me was closing with every beatdown and, if I waited too long, then the surgery wouldn’t be able to do anything. The problem was, as Nomas had pointed out, the surgery would take me out for three to four months. And that much time out of SCW? Well, look at last year’s big names: Bree Lancaster, Sienna Swann, Owen Cruze, Giovanni Aries – even legends like Xander Valentine and Regan Street. It was so easy to be ‘forgotten’ when it was time to take a leave. All momentum was gone when you came back, and you’d have to start from square one.

That wouldn’t bother me, normally, I had done it before when I had worked my way through SCW to get to the Adrenaline championship. But the problem was, people were talking a little about my name circling around the World Championship. Now, compared to names like Glory Braddock, Xander Valentine, and Jordan Majors (I refused to acknowledge Holly Adams as a candidate just because she had won a popularity vote – not after I had pinned her and eliminated her in that chamber and in the Big Top match), my name probably had been pushed aways back, and rightfully so.

Still, being pushed a little bit back was a far cry better than not being mentioned at all. And that was what was going to happen the second I left to have the surgery on my knee.

And maybe it was me. Maybe I was deliberately inviting beatdowns on me – it WAS, after all, my idea to have a TLC match at RTG and I had leapt at the chance to light tables on fire with Ace Marshall and at the chance to be in a chamber match to reclaim part of me that I had ‘lost’ years ago - Whether I had remained to be seen.

Do you want to know when I started thinking that maybe I was the author of my own endangerment? That, perhaps, I was to blame for my own declining health? I can tell you exactly when that thought had entered my mind. It was when the ‘new guy’ O’Dry-sense-of-humor had brought back the Underground Championship.

Let me paint you guys a picture. Kimberly Williams and Jordan Majors had just had a pretty epic and hardcore cage match. So much so, that Cian had pranced on down, looking like he had just invented water or something and declared Kimberly the new Underground champion.

And I scoffed at that.

To be clear, I was NOT scoffing at Kimberly. She had earned her win and she sure as hell was entertaining to me. Part of me just wanted to let her loose inside a Home Depot and see what she would do. No, I had scoffed at Cian’s notion that THAT particular match had been what had inspired him to bring back the Underground division – after I had spent months giving Under the Big Top, TLC, Tables on Fire, and then, afterwards, a chamber match.

I was scoffing because I had, unofficially, LIVED through the Underground lifestyle while defending/fighting for the Adrenaline division. Because, no disrespect to Jordan or Kim, I had been LIVING the underground style better than they were… than anyone else had been.

You can imagine that it wasn’t much of a stretch to start thinking about myself as the Underground Champion and, from there, thinking that I was responsible for my misery. Of course, Ricky James had started being an idiot and that had then taken most of my attention.

Still, Marina had insisted on talking about the surgery again as soon as we had returned home. And again, I had had to tell her that I wasn’t ready to have it yet.

“Why?” she had asked. “What are you waiting for?”
“Well…”

We were sitting in our family room, Memphis was playing in the backyard with the neighborhood kids – we were thankful the restrictions of the pandemic were being reduced in Guelph, albeit slowly – there was still that nasty variant out there… like me running around SCW! Bad analogy, I realize but, let’s face it, I’m an annoying handful. Just ask O. D.!

But we sat there on the couch, Marina dressed in black leggings and a green sweater that was too big for her, but made her look so cuddly. I was in black track pants and a gray t-shirt. Marina wasn’t mad at me, per say, we had had this discussion before, multiple times, but with each beatdown and loss, the more powerful her argument became and the weaker my defence was. How many times could you justify staying in a place where you were, more often than not, left knocked down and/or knocked out?

“I just…” leaned forward on the couch, my elbows resting sharply on my knees. “I’ve made a lot of progress lately.” I argued. “I mean – no one has held a title longer than me. And they were mentioning my name with the world title a few Breakdowns ago.”

It was true. I had the Adrenaline title for over six months – no other champion had come close to that this year. Hell, I was the only person that had defeated Autumn Valentine during her current reign as Television Champion – a fact that SCW FAILED to acknowledge because it had been a DQ win thanks to Ace Marshall. But they had also ignored me becoming Supreme Champion, so how was that anything new, right? Colon capital P, am I right?

The problem was…

“You haven’t won a big match since Under the Big Top.” Marina countered.

That. Right there. While I had done ‘okay-ish’ in Breakdown matches, I had one of the worst track records for PPVs lately. Holly, Ace, Jordan, they could all claim a victory over me – all of them preventing me from still being Adrenaline champion.

“Have you considered that you’re slowing down?” the question came from her, not spiteful or meant to hurt, but rationale – Marina was just looking out for me, always worried about me, her soulmate and father of her children.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, her question, at the time, going over my head.
“Nomas said that if you didn’t get the surgery, your knee would continue to get worse. The lockups and problems would persist and you’ll continue to have problems. Have you considered that, maybe, that has slowed you down? That that is the reason you’ve had problems winning your matches lately?”

“I…I guess.” I answered, sounding so lame in my own head.

“Shilo…” I saw her reach out to take my hands into hers, mine only a bit bigger and longer than hers. “Let’s just say that you WERE picked as the next contender for the world title. Can you honestly tell me that you’re at a level to beat Selena Frost? Or Cid Turner? Or Xander Valentine? Or Glory Braddock?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but immediately closed it. I couldn’t convincingly lie to her. Ace Marshall had fallen to Selena Frost, as had Jordan Majors, and those two had soundly defeated me. I couldn’t even beat Xander Valentine when my knee wasn’t as bad as it was now. No, I couldn’t beat Selena Frost as I was now. The same was true with Cid Turner-

It was just so unfair! All the old veterans like Cid Turner, David Helms, Chris Cannon, and more had come in and found success with the world title! Yet, there I was, struggling just to stay in the mid-card! What was I doing wrong? Where was I fucking up besides my knee?! What was I missing that they all had?

“No.” I answered glumly. “Maybe eight years ago, but not now.”

“Okay…” Marina sighed knowingly. “So, you admit that you’re struggling to keep up with everyone.”

I nodded my head. It was a somber reality. Let me explain this, guys. I was headed to Breakdown to face Katie Steward! Katie Steward – the woman that hadn’t won a title in gods know how many years. A woman that hadn’t even been CONSIDERED for a title in years. A woman that NEEDED her family like Gigi or her lackey TJ to help her with her matches. You want to talk about someone that’s struggled to ‘exist’ in SCW more than me, it’s her.

On paper? Shilo Valiant should have been able to tear through her and all that run down to save her – the difference in their skills and accolades huge. On paper. In reality? I wasn’t sure. The difference between Katie and I was that, while her skills and abilities had maintained themselves over the years, mine had deteriorated more and more with each match. I was slower, stayed down longer…

In fact, looking back, I’d go as far as to say that Katie as a wrestler was in better skill and shape compared to me heading into this match. In other words, I wasn’t certain I could beat her – or even come close to.

Shilo Valiant wasn’t sure he couldn’t beat someone that wasn’t even on the Elite 15 and hadn’t been since it had been brought back after Rise to Greatness – least I could brag I had been on it once (HA!).

It was crushing when you considered everyone else in SCW. Was I even able to be in the mid-card at this point? Or was I just high on the low-card now?

You have to understand, guys. For someone that once held the World Championship, etched his way into the Hall of Fame, and was considered the poster-boy of SCW for years, this reality took the wind right out of my sails, deflating me more than anything Ace Marshall could ever do to me.

“Maybe I should quit while I’m ahead.” I whispered, unable to believe those words were leaving my mouth, my hands rubbing together. “I had hoped…”

I didn’t finish that statement. I knew what I wanted. I wanted to be the world champion one more time. I wanted to headline Rise to Greatness one more time. I wanted to make history just one more time – something to end things on my terms. I didn’t have to say it aloud. I had whined about it in my promos a few times and more than that to Marina quietly off-camera.

“I know.” I heard her whisper, her hands squeezing mine as they held them once more. “I’m not saying that isn’t an option, but… maybe you’re not losing as much as you think by taking a few months off to have the surgery.”

Her tone was hesitant, but it got my attention as I gazed at her. I saw her eyes flicker over the scars lining the one side of my face, fleeting between my two, different colored, eyes. “You admitted that there’s a ceiling to what you can do in the ring?”

“Yes.” I whispered, though admitting it hurt like hell.
“Alright. Well, what if Nomas is right and having this surgery can remove that ceiling? What if, by doing this sooner than later, yes, you have to start over, but you can achieve more than you ever could now?”

Well…that was a bit overzealous, don’t you think? Nomas wasn’t offering to make me the Bionic Man or something. He wasn’t turning me into a cyborg or some kind of super-solider. He was just giving me a way to fix a bad leg. Even if he could bring it back to 100%, that didn’t just ‘make me great again’.

It just seemed so… too good to be true.

“I can’t believe that.” I admitted aloud.

“Oh…” I turned to see Marina’s head lift at my words. “You’re afraid.” She concluded. “You think that if you get this surgery, come back and nothing happens for you, then you have no excuse to give yourself. You’ll have to admit that you’re not as good as you once were – and maybe will never be that good again.”
“I can admit that.” I laughed.
“Yes.” Marina tilted her head. “But you’ll add an asterisk to that statement – something to the effect of ‘because of my knee’.” She gave a shrug. “Take that excuse away, how would that make you feel?”

“If I had to admit that I’m not as good as I use to be? That I can’t be as entertaining as I once was…”

Okay, so here’s the funny thing, guys. As I said those words, as I added layer after layer of description on it:

“That I can’t be as entertaining as I once was…
If I can’t stand in the spotlight anymore…
If I can’t be the most entertaining SCW superstar again…”

The more it hurt. The more it stuck with me. The harder it was to say without my voice shaking. What’s more, the idea of saying those things and not having my knee to blame for it…

What if it was true? What if I went through with this surgery and was, essentially, better for it but still unable to compete against the talents of Jordan or Glory or Selena or Cid or Xander?

Was that why I took the beatdowns and went for the dangerous matches? No, those had been thrilling to be part of! I wanted to be part of those dangerous matches. I wanted to be in the Underground where not only were such matches the norm, but I could rewrite the rules as I saw fit simply because… there WERE NO rules!

Still, was I merely stalling because I was afraid of wrestling without my crutch that was my bad knee? Was I afraid of being in top form and ‘failing’? What would that say about Shilo Valiant? What would that say about the man that had done so much?

Looking up, my eyes took in the house, the simple designs and furniture. The ‘old Shilo Valiant’… eh… that guy had lived in both worse states under Toronto and also in luxury above it. Part of me missed being that Shilo. Running around the catwalks and within the audience, being unpredictable, being entertaining and untouchable… the pyro incident had been the first ‘chink in the armor’ that had existed in me, I think.

“You know…” I said aloud. “We really need to start putting up Christmas decorations.”

To my surprise, Marina turned her head to look around the room. “A tree at least.” She offered, dropping the subject for now. “Should we get an artificial one this year?”

“Why?” I asked, raising an eyebrow, watching her eyes immediately fly down to my bad leg. “Marina…” I sighed. “You understand that the more you try and coddle me, the more useless I feel?”

“Well, get over it.” She stated simply. “Your hurt ego isn’t as bad as you blowing out your knee and making surgery impossible.”
“I know but…” I sighed, the frustration clear in my voice. “I can still do simple stuff. Lugging a tree won’t kill me.”

She gave a shrug of her shoulders. “Fair enough.” She added.

I’d like to say something else happened – throw some exciting event or something entertaining to make this chapter more than just a ‘lovers quarrel’, but I can’t do that here. Thing is, guys, at the time of this, I was debating leaving SCW for several months. It consumed most of my thoughts. Like I said, it was a closing window – less of a ‘if’ and more of a ‘when’. I was losing ground to the point where I wasn’t sure I could compete with mid-low card talent. I wasn’t even sure I could beat a brat like Katie Steward.

I felt SCW was slipping out of my hands – just like it had when I first ‘retired - just when I had thought I still had it with the Adrenaline championship. And though Marina was right on so many points, I couldn’t get rid of the reality that was gripping me… either I stay and continue to let it slip out of my hands, watching my stock drop further and further… or take the risk… and risk losing what little respectability my legacy still had…

And for those of you wondering how that tree-acquiring went? I managed it. I’m not saying I Superman-lifted a tree. The manager at the tree shop (just outside of the Canadian Tire) helped me get it into the car and Marina helped me get it into the house, but it was done, and my knee didn’t act up!

Least I could do something right at least once…