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Tula Kealiʻi · (04-24-2020)

------October 1, 2019------

Centurion
609-XXX-XXXX
Dial?

It has been years since I have spoken with my father's old business associate. I doubt he even remembers who I am. But he is my ticket to finally jumpstarting a career and making a name for myself. I remember him as being kind and warm, and willing to help just about anyone if they asked.

So why can't I seem to ask?

I had spent the small amount of money I had saved to fly back to Hawaii to gather up the last of my things from my childhood home, and I left the islands as quickly as I went in. My plan was simple - fly into the west coast, call Centurion, and hope he not only remembers me, but is kind hearted enough to arrange travel for me so I can get to my next stop. After my next fight, I'll pay him back, and I'll owe him my undying loyalty.

And here I am, at the Portland International Airport, with my phone in my hand...and I just can't seem to dial the number.

Damn me and my pride. The very thing that prevented me from riding my father's coat tails is now preventing me from contacting the one person why may be willing to help me right now. It's not a "hand out", but I can't help but feel like it is. As if it is somehow a failure on my part that I am unable to do this on my own.

So now, instead of calling the one person who can probably help me, I'm searching the Fighters Circle app for any potential matches in the Portland area. I figure, make a couple hundred bucks, get a rental car, and I can get back to the East Coast, where work has been pretty steady for me. And hopefully, at some point, I'll stop being a pussy and actually call Centurion.

My concentration is broken by the sound of a heated exchange near me. Just outside of our terminal, I see three security guards. They are standing in a defensive position in front of a family of three. There is a woman in a burka and a little girl in a hijab, and a man, speaking in Arabic. He is not yelling, but he is clearly frustrated. The three white security guards, however, are yelling.

Guard: Lower your voice or we'll taze your ass to the ground!

The man doesn't speak English - none of the family does. And the three guards don't speak Arabic. And an opportunity has opened up in front of me.

I put my phone away and get up from my seat. I slowly approach the situation, which is only getting more tense by the second.

Tula: Excuse me?

One of the security guards reaches for his tazer, causing me to immediately put my hands up. I slowly bend down, making sure the guards see me in a submissive position. I have been in hostage situations before, and this is very similar. Let the ones with the guns think they have a big dick. They won't be in a hurry to shoot you.

Tula: The man is saying his daughter hadsdiabetes, and his bag his been held up in customs. He is looking for a medical personnel to help him.

Guard: You speak Muslim?

Tula: I speak Arabic, yes sir. I spent six years of my life in Afghanistan, sir.

That calmed him down. All three guards soften their stances. The the loudest, fattest one, who must be in charge, turns to one of the other guards.

Guard: Take them to the doctor's office. Mind going with them to translate?

Tula: No problem.

The other two guards walk away as a third one just gestures to us to follow him. All three of them are angry. They thought today was the day they got to kill a Muslim and be a hero. That's what all these boot licking, wannabe cops dream of - shoot a brown person, get an interview on Fox News, write a book, and make enough money to leave their wives for one of those manufactured conservative blonde chicks who all look like Tomi Lahren.

The woman in the burka - the mother - is overwhelmed with joy. I can hear some crying sounds, and once she settles down, she speaks to me.

Woman: Shukraan jazilana. laqad 'anqadhat hayatina. Kayf yumkinuna sadad lak?
(Translation: Thank you. You saved our lives. How can we repay you?)

Tula: Hal tatajih gharba?
(Translation: Are you heading east?)

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I know the XWF brass would like me to be grateful for the opportunity that is in front of me. After all, I'm only my second match in, and I have the opportunity to become number one contender for a major title. This doesn't happen very often. I should be thanking them for giving me such an opportunity, right?

I'm not obtuse. I know exactly what this is.

This is the XWF matchmakers trying to justify giving Chris Chaos and Hanari Carnes a title shot. They just formed as a tag team, but they're two pretty big names, and the XWF is hurting for tag teams. So, let's find the easiest way possible to get them in a position and make them look credible.

The easiest way to do that is to give them a number one contenders match, and put them up against two wrestlers who have nothing in common. Just grab two of the newest wrestlers, put them into the ring together, and make Carnes and Chaos look strong.

I can't say it's a terrible strategy. I don't know what I would do if I was in their position. Maybe I would do the same thing. They see an opportunity in Chris Chaos and Hanari Carnes. They think they can rebuilt the division around them. And in the end, the folks at the top are in the business to make money. So of course, give them the path of least resistance.

You run a massive risk in doing that, though - because there is a chance that the team you want to make money from stumble right out of the gate. And if that happens, the entire experiment is thrown out the window.

What do I know about Russian Rose? Absolutely nothing. Can we get along? I have no idea. None of this is a concern of mine. As long as he wants to win, we can make this work.

I look across the ring, and I see two wrestlers with impressive resumes. Both have a trophy case of title wins, including the big one for Chris Chaos. It's easy to be intimidated by that, especially if you're new to the business.

But resumes are just paper. They only show what you've done, not what you're capable of. There is no resume for potential. There is nothing you can put on paper to show where you're headed in life.

All resumes do is build expectations. You do a ton of hard work, hoping it pays off in the end. That's why you go to college, or work that entry level job, or accept that internship. You expect to be rewarded. That's what you've been told put the nice things on the resume, and you'll succeed in life.

But that's not reality, is it? Not anymore. Now, past work is just that - work. It doesn't show where you're going, only the time you've wasted. That college degree turns into mountains of debt. That entry level job turns into 10 painful years. That internship turns into a pat on the back and a "thanks for the free labor" the moment the next grad student walks through the door. And those past accomplishments just turn you into a target - something someone can hang their hat on.

I have been paying attention. I saw Chris Chaos face Centurion. I saw Hanari Carnes face Shawn Warstein. In both cases, in the lead up to both matches, these men - these prideful men with years of wrestling experience behind them - were turned into jokes. They had to sit back and watch as other wrestlers tore down their accomplishments and left them naked and exposed to the world. I saw them enter their matches already beaten. It was written on their faces the moment they stepped into the ring.

That's what resumes do. They build you up to tear you down. They give you an inflated sense of pride just to destroy it later on.

Many people consider me to be a synic. They think I can't look at the good in the world. That is simply not true. I just approach life with a sense of realism. Your cheery outlook isn't going to stop suffering from happening, and your nihilism isn't going to make things better. This is why I hate everyone who says "it doesn't matter, it all sucks anyway." Things will continue to suck as long as you do nothing to improve the situation around you. The people who wish you harm will constantly be pushing forward, regardless of how you feel or what you do. If you want to throw dirt on your own grave, go for it. But at that point, you have no one to blame but yourself.

I don't know what Hanari and Chris are thinking entering this match. Maybe they see us as easy prey to feast upon. Maybe they're so angry and hurt by their recent failures that they are coming in with a sense of purpose and a renewed vision. Maybe their pride and egos have been so bruised that they will walk down to the ring with their head in their hands, feeling sorry for themselves.

Honestly, it doesn't matter to me. Because I know how I'm entering this match. I'm entering it with nothing to lose. I'm entering it knowing the entire XWF front office has placed their bets against me. I have an unknown entity on my side, one that might as quickly attack me as work with me. I'm in an impossible situation.

But I've been in impossible situations before. And I'm still alive. That is my greatest accomplishment. And I'll match that up next to any title belt or wrestling match you've won.

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