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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » High Stakes Battle Royale RP Board
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Champ Sportsman Offline
Registered but either hasn't added self to a roster yet or doesn't RP



XWF FanBase:
Some of everyone

(cheered; very rarely plays dirty but isn't lame either; many likable qualities)


#1
11-07-2020, 07:13 PM

*CRACK*

Champ Sportsman had spent the entirety of the day at the local batting cage, whacking away at baseballs like it was nobody's business. From the moment the sun came up, Champ smacked the yarn off ball after ball in a therapeutic attempt to escape his problems; every pile of rubber and cow hide a representation of each one.

The cancelled season

*CRACK*

Losing Coach McDowell

*CRACK*

Covid-19

*CRACK*

Breaking down at the funeral

*CRACK*
*CRACK*
*CRAAAAAAACK*

As Champ had predicted, he was essentially on the cover of EVERY magazine in the country looking like a jackass..................... well, almost every magazine. True to her word, Megan Reno skipped out on the Champ Sportsman pity hour cover story and instead ran a beautiful article about the life of Coach McDowell, complete with a picture of him giving Champ some pointers his rookie year. Not only was it a nice tribute to the former Bloom Manager, it also served as a reminder to the city just how important Champ was to them. Miss Reno was a true Orlando fan, one who would never publish anything that would bring negative light on the team. Her story was the highlight of his week, a momentary bright spot between the cocaine and booze binge he'd been on since the day of the funeral. Unfortunately for him, the sun had set hours ago and all the swings in the world couldn't save him from the harsh reality he was left to face............... But that wasn't gonna stop him from trying.

*CRACK*

Eventually, Champ was approached by Mickey Jones, the former outfielder for the Orlando Bloom who held the team record for most RBIs in a single season. Upon retiring, Jones opened up the batting cages that Champ liked to frequent during the offseason.

"Its time to go, Champ," Mickey stated as Sportsman destroyed yet another one of his baseballs.

"Just a few more minutes," Champ pleaded, not once taking his eyes off the pitching machine. "I'm almost done."

Mickey shook his head. "That's what you said an hour ago!"

Champ set his bat against the cage and reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and handing a hundred dollar bill to the retired baseball player. "Just five more minutes, Mick............... please.

Jones sighed, unsure of how to help the troubled athlete. "Keep your money." Mickey knew taking money from someone who was down on their luck wasn't the way to go. Instead, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a set of keys, which he tossed over to Champ. "Lock the place up when you're done."

Champ looked down at the keys, a bit overwhelmed by the amount of trust one of his heroes had placed in him. "Are you sure???"

"No," Mick responded with a chuckle. "Not at all. But I want to go home, and YOU want to keep hitting balls until the pain goes away. No offense, kid, but that's gonna take a lot more than a 'few minutes', hell, it could take an entire lifetime. And by that point, you're gonna end up being someone else's pain.............."

Mick's words hit Champ like a brick, but he couldn't let it show. "I appreciate the advice," he said, turning away from Jones and returning to batting.

*CRACK*

"I'll make sure to lock it up when I finished."

Mick nodded, taking the hint. He put his hands in his pockets and made his way for the door, but stopped to give Champ one last piece of wisdom before exiting. "Trust me, kid, I've been living with my own demons for YEARS.............. if you can't defeat them, they'll control you for the rest of your life. And believe me, you don't want that."

Mick left, shutting the door behind him. Not only was Champ left speechless, he also missed his first ball ALL DAY; but considering it was due to a distraction, he wasn't tripping over it. He'd get the next one.


Except he didn't.

SWING AND A MISS*

And he didn't get the next one.

SWING AND A MISS*

Or the next one.

SWING AND A MISS*

Nor the one after that.

Champ was beyond frustrated. Had this been an actual game, he would've broken the bat over his knee and stormed away with home plate. Not wanting to ruin any of Mick's equipment, he gently let it fall out of his hands. This was supposed to be a break from reality, an escape from the cocktail of emotions he'd been experiencing since laying Coach McDowell to rest; but instead, he found himself in even MORE pain than he was when he walked through the door earlier that morning.

Having had enough "fun" for one night, Champ turned off the pitching machine and put all of his stuff back where it belonged. As he made his way back over to his gym bag, he realized he hadn't checked his phone all day. He reached in and dug out his fancy phone with the flippable screen, unlocking it and checking for messages.

30 Messages
20 Text 10 Voicemail
16 Missed Calls

Upon realizing how popular he was, Champ blurted out "Holy shit!" before hurrying through the slew of messages, concerned there had been some sort of emergency he'd been left in the dark on.

The first few were harmless enough.
MISS RENO
Hey, Champ, was just wondering when you were gonna buy me that dinner you owe me?

MISS RENO
If you don't want to pay for dinner, that's fine, we can go Dutch. It'd just be nice to hear from you.

MISS RENO
Forget dinner, I just wanna know you're okay.


Then they started taking a turn for the worse.
MISS RENO
Dammit, Champ, you could at least let me know you're not lying dead in ditch somewhere!

MISS RENO
I swear to God, if you pulled a Robin Williams, I will NEVER root for the Bloom again!"

Before Champ could read any more, his phone started ringing with his future XWF theme, "Sedona." He looked down at the caller ID and, sure enough, it was none other than Megan Reno. Champ, knowing he was in for an earful, took a deep breath before answering. "Hello?"

"Oh thank God!" Miss Reno responded from the other end. "I was scared you blew your brains out!!!"

Champ gave a halfhearted laugh. "Nope, just getting in a little batting practice."

"ALL DAY?!?" the reporter questioned, sounding more like a concerned girlfriend than a casual acquaintance.

"I'm................. working through some stuff," Champ assured her, rubbing his temple.

"No shit!" Megan scoffed. The entire city's been worried about you! My editor was prepared to run a story saying you were on some sort of booze and cocaine binge, but I told him I'd quit if he did."

"The cocaine binge was yesterday," Champ admitted, wondering how the hell her boss knew what he'd been doing for the last week. "And the booze was the day before that."

Megan let out a rather cute giggle, finally starting to lighten up a bit. "Well, I'm glad to hear you still have your sense of humor."

Champ wasn't sure what was funny about him drinking and snorting coke almost to the point of extinction, but he liked Miss Reno too much to call her out for it. "So, what about that dinner I owe you?"

"Well, tonight's no good," Megan struggled to say, her mouth obviously full of food. "Fearing the worst, I decided to order Chinese."

Champ did a double take at his phone. "Why would you order Chinese food if you thought I was dead?"

Miss Reno swallowed a piece of General Tso's chicken before answering. "A girl's gotta eat," she said, taking another bite. "Afterall, it's not like I'm dead!"

The two of them went silent for a moment before bursting out into simultaneous laughter. Tears rolled down Champ's face for the hundredth time since Coach McDowell's funeral, only THIS time they were tears of joy. Just like her article had done, temporarily, earlier in the week, Champ Sportsman found himself smiling, once again, thanks to Megan Reno.

Eventually, their laughter died down and Champ made a play for what seemed to be the only bright spot in his life. "So, I still owe you a dinner..........."

"That's right," Miss Reno agreed in a very flirtatious manner. "You do."

Even though they were miles apart, Champ could feel the electricity coming from the other end of the line. With every breath Megan Reno took, he felt the heat of it on his neck as if she were standing over him.

"Well, as you may have heard, my schedule's pretty open," Champ flirted back, trying to keep himself from getting a boner. "With the exception of November 29th, of course."

"Riiiiiiiiight, 'cause you're a 'rassler now!" Megan teased, a smile on her face couldn't see.

"Yep," Champ played along, though he meant every word. "And I'm gonna win the Championship, too!"

"Is that so?" Reno questioned, surprised by Champ's confidence. "Well, could you at least buy me that dinner first?"

"Absolutely," Champ promised, trying to keep himself grounded. "When are you free?"

Champ could hear Miss Reno downing the rest of her Chinese, before responding, making him hungry for something other than coke for the first time in almost a week. "Well, I have to go out of town for a few days," she informed with one last swallow of chicken. "But I can hit you up when I get back and we can make plans from there."

She sounded eager, which helped to keep Champ's spirits high. "That sounds good to me, Miss Reno."

Megan laughed at the ridiculously formal way Champ had always addressed her. "You DO know I have a first name, right?" She giggled a bit more before dropping a bombshell on Sportsman. "If we're going on a date, we should probably be on a first name basis."

DATE?!?!?

Champ had no idea Miss Reno's intentions were of a romantic pursuit, he just thought it was dinner between friends; maybe a slick way to get an interview out of him. But a date?!? With the way Champ's 2020 had been going the last few weeks, getting a date with Megan Reno was like winning the lottery.................. or perhaps the Universal Championship?

"That works for me," Champ finally spoke, practically floating up to the ceiling with joy. "Well, it's getting late and I gotta close up Mick's shop.........."

"He finally trusted you with the keys?"

"Yeah," Champ answered, remembering how down he was feeling mere minutes before this conversation. "Just shows how pitiful I've been, huh?"

"I think it shows how human you are," Megan reassured, genuine care in her voice. "I'll take a man with feelings over some emotionless robot any day!................ talk to you later, Champ."

He didn't know what to say before Miss Reno hung up, leaving him standing there in silence as the tone of his phone droned on. This day, no, the entire week had been a roller coaster of emotions and he had finally reached the peak of it; only, unlike a REAL roller coaster, he didn't want it to ever go back down. As far as he was concerned, he could be stuck at the top forever. Miss Reno in one arm, the Universal Championship in the other. What a way to end 2020 THAT would be....................


"Another week goes by, and yet Champ Sportsman's number is BARELY being called. Sure, I hear the whispers amongst the Marfs of the world, but what about the people that really matter? Robbie Bourbon, Thaddeus Duke, Chris Page.................. why are they SO afraid to say my name? These guys are veterans, yet they're making the biggest rookie mistake in the book and underestimating me. Its obvious they've never seen me play a down on the field or an inning on the mound because, if they HAD, they'd know I'm not someone to take lightly! I give 110% EVERY play! My slowballs are fastballs and my touchdowns are home runs, there's not a person alive who can keep up with ME!!!! And that includes all you Helen Keller mother fuckers! If y'all need to learn by touch, I'll give you a couple fists to the face and maybe THEN you'll understand what I'm saying!"

"Robbie, Bobby, whatever the hell you wanna be called................ you may be the Hart Champion, but considering you're ALSO a former Universal Champion, that belt's nothing more than a step DOWN. It'd be like me getting demoted to the minor leagues and pretending their Championship means something when, in reality, you're nothing more than the first loser."

"Which brings me to Mr. Second Place himself, Chris Page. They call him 'chronic' because he has a chronic problem with losing. He's a classic example of the old saying 'if you can't beat 'me, join 'em.' Couldn't win the big one, couldn't defeat Robert Main.............. he wouldn't even BE Tag Team Champion if XWF actually HAD a Tag Division! I'm sorry, but when you're only real 'competition' is Jimson & Charlie or whatever two members of BOB the powers that be decide to throw together that week, there really isn't a challenge. I could team with a tackling dummy and become Number 1 Contender, it's really not that hard!"

"Page, Robert's not gonna be there to watch your back................ just like Relentless! You're gonna have to do it all on your own and, deep down, you know that's not enough. It never HAS been. That's why you latched onto Main in the first place, and it's the exact reason you're so pissed that he's sick of holding your hand. This isn't kindergarten, Page, we don't get assistance or participation trophies anymore, you gotta actually EARN your gold stickers................. oooopppps, I meant silver, they only give the gold ones to winners, like ME!!!!!"

"Don't worry, Chriiiiiis, you're not the only person in this match overshadowed by a greater foe...................Thad Duke knows all about it, too! Main is to Page as Bourbon is to Duke, except they haven't reached the buttfucking stage, yet. Unless you count the poundings Robbie's already given him, of course! Not only did he beat Thad to become the Warfare MVP, he also successfully DEFENDED it against him! If Duke can't even defeat a washed up has-been like Robbie Bourbon, what makes him think he stands a chance at High Stakes? I'm more athletic than Robbie, faster, smarter, better looking, and have a stronger desire to win than ANYONE on the roster......................"

"Including Corey."

"I'll give you props, Mr. Smith, you actually had the guts to address me by name. You may have mocked it like some unoriginal elementary school bully, but I don't mind.................... doesn't really mean much coming from someone with such a basic white girl name. 'Champ Sportsman stuttered over a word!' So fuckin' what??? Is that seriously the best you can come up with?!? You can write a novel about a wrestling doctor, but won't even give a legitimate athlete the time of day? I see how it is. Well, Corey, you can spout on about other wrestlers being dicks to you, all the while ignoring your own prickish havior, but what's it gonna get you? As someone who seems to have alot of enemies, you should be worried. You barely said anything about me, and yet said so much at the same time. I may not be a threat to you, but I AM an enemy, and you seem to have plenty of those around here! Remember, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, and with all the foes you've made, you could wind up being the first one out! And at that point, it won't matter if we're supposed to call you Corey, Engy, or Lux, because the only name you'll be going by from then on will be loser. As for me? Heh, they'll be calling me what I've been all along...................... CHAMP!!!!"

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