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Neville Sinclair · (06-19-2017)

1… 2… 3…. (Crash)

The skinned knee was what I deserved. I couldn’t figure it out, trying to ride a bike is impossible. Other kids would be crying with the pain or freaking out at the sight of blood, but for me it was… different. Pain was tolerable, and blood was natural but failure was something to cry about. Running into the house the only consolation my mother could offer me was hope that one day, I too could be an adult, free of the restraints that come with being a child. I could go where I wanted and do whatever I needed to. I might be young now, but some day I would enter the world of those who understood and thrived with responsibility

4-Year-Old Neville Sinclair threw his bike two feet beside where he had crashed and stared at the other kids from his area. One was crying at the outburst, one was staring in surprise, while another was picking his nose a few feet away.

I am so sick of being this age, I’m tired of not getting the respect I deserve.

Neville ran into the house to get a band-aid, the sympathy he received made him angry. Why couldn’t they see what he was really frustrated about? Everyone was so simple. It seemed odd to have an identity crisis at this age, but Neville knew he was far beyond his years. The tears came.

I hate that fucking bike, I hate everything about it. I’m never going to get on it again.

Neville was not a child of entitlement, too many kids around him expected everything to be handed to them. No, Neville was a child who, at his age, understood the need to work and the constant effort it took to seize what the world had to offer. But something about not succeeding left him feeling defeated, and it was a feeling he hated.

He refused to ever feel like that again…
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His house was a mansion, a three story investment that stood out amongst the English countyside he lived in. Outside sat a car collection that stood as tokens of his accomplishments. There was a free structured gym for training.

Neville Sinclair had a good life. Many would call him a part of the 1%. He lived alone in his house, other than the maids, cooks and his oldest friend and companion – Hugh, who became his butler when Neville was suddenly too old to have a caretaker.

Neville is seen up in his study, the place where he liked to make public appearances. A wall of books is seen behind him and his desk is lined with Cuban cigars and expensive Scotch. Charles Camilleri’s Concertino No. 1 plays on a vinyl record player. Neville takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, savoring the moment.

I trust all of you have found your way here ok? To introduce myself I wanted to invite you all here. I wanted you to see who I am and experience life the way only I could. I want to welcome you to life when you have the finer things. This is the kind of life you all can have. Welcome to your future if you make the right decisions. You see, I’ve been watching you all, and I must say I’m looking forward to doing what I do in the XWF. The Neville Sinclair era has arrived. I’m not just another wrestler, I’m the man who your lives will revolve around now.

Neville takes a big hit off his cigar and points it directly at the camera

You all understand orbiting right? One mass in space comes into contact with a much larger one and ends up revolving around the larger mass. We see it with the earth as it revolves around the sun, we see it with moons as they hit larger planets. If I were to put the theory in the crass, juvenile terms many of you speak in… the lesser one becomes the “bitch” of the bigger one.

Neville laughs as he tries to translate this into terms everyone will understand. He found this part hilarious. It wasn’t that he enjoyed speaking in crass, uncivilized terms, he just knew he had to speak down to them.

This is the future of the XWF, and I’m putting you all on notice. Everything will revolve around me. You don’t know me very well, but I can assure you this will be the case. This is what I do.

Neville points up to his accolades on the wall, amongst them sit degrees, a doctorate, pictures of Neville winning various fighting championships across the world.

I graduated prep school early, I finished my masters before I was 20. I earned my doctorate as the youngest anthropologist in Oxford history, and I learned to study people. I can point out things about people faster than they can think of them. Where did it leave me? Bored. People were boring and predictable. Most acted in a sort of self interest that even a child could predict. So I took on new challenges, instead of simply understanding people, I wanted to battle them. Use who they were against them. So I took a few years and studied fighting styles. I’ve won boxing championships in Australia, Muay Thai in Thailand, and bare knuckled in Russia. Around the world people know my name and feared me. But there was one kind of fighting that eluded sense to me. Most fighting styles could be learned by theory and practice. But professional wrestling didn’t make sense to me.

Neville points up to pictures of him wrestling in his days of UHWF and THW. Championship belts sat around his waist in many of them.

I couldn’t understand how professional wrestling worked. Most of the champions were too moronic, they didn’t make sense. The only thing predictable about many of them was making consistently bad decisions and glorifying awful things. I had to figure out what made these people tick. So I did, and I became a king among them. I could point out everything wrong with all of them, and use their own weaknesses to win.

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For days, young Neville watched every other kid outside the window. Most were 9-10 years old, riding around on pedal bikes they had inherited from their parents. Neville had set up a step-chair outside his living room window and day after day he watched. He studied everything from how fast their feet moved, how they used their upper body to shift in directions. He even set up his own self made anemometer made out of paper cups to watch how wind speed could be measured.

I can do this…

This type of message to Neville from himself seemed like every other self-help message he had ever heard. Teachers were constantly telling him nonsense like “believe in yourself” and “follow your dreams”. These were such simple reasoning. These were things that adults told dumb kids to not crush their dreams before they reached their teen years. Neville could think of at least 6 people in his age group that would be lucky to ever achieve status of garbage men let alone do anything productive in society. He watched as an older kid started riding with no hands, without warning he went over the front end and crashed with his face hitting the pavement.

Serves him right

Neville hated the kids that could do what he couldn’t. One day he would show all of them. Neville would drive himself to being the kind of person the world couldn’t live without. Neville would achieve greatness.

But I have to learn to ride this damn bike first…

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Neville pours himself and took a long sip of the Scotch off his desk. Glenfiddich was his Scotch of choice. He savored it’s burn down his throat.

One of the things I need to realize is that I’m once again the new guy. I look at this match that management has set up and I realize that I’m one of the undefined variables. Barely any of these guys know a thing about me and I like it that way. It’s been so long since I’ve entered a ring, I haven’t needed to life has been good. But once again I miss the sport of it all. Coming to the ring, beating down anyone who stands in my way. It’s time to make my return and achieve greatness where I need to.

Neville holds up a photo of himself in his glory days, a big gold title sitting firmly on his waist

This is who I was and I’m damn proud of every second of it. I’ve won titles, I’ve beaten down the best of the best. But this isn’t who I am anymore. I’m a few years older in a completely different location. I can’t fall back on this anymore. I need to work to try and get back here. This is a whole new game for me. But I can damn sure guarantee all of you that I will work as hard as I can to get to the place of greatness in the XWF. I’ll study every fighter, every move, every match so I can learn from all of them. I’m not going to call out every opponent today. I need more time. But I can guarantee you all I’m watching you, all of you. Everything from the moron who doesn’t like Guinness to the man who calls himself the Champion.

Neville smiles thinking of how unprepared everyone truly is to handle him.

I’m going to give you an offer. Maybe some of you have questions, maybe some of you want to get to know me a little better. Tuesday I will come back and do a Q&A for all of you. You know how to get a hold of me, send me questions, I dare you. You might not want to be part of my introduction to the XWF, but let me give you the ammunition you think you need to defeat me. Remember, Tuesday… I’ll see you all then.

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Neville puts on his helmet as he sizes up the street in front of him. 6 am on an early summer morning, the sun has just come up and the entire world feels like it’s his. He watches as a sparrow flies past him

How could he learn to fly? I wonder what steps he took to get him there?

Neville takes a deep breath, he would be lying if he said he felt no nerves. It’s been 7 days since his last attempt at riding this bike, the scab has just gotten to the point where it looked partially healed over. The little scar would serve as a lasting punishment for failing at his first couple attempts. He deserved it. But this time Neville felt much more ready. Studying how the other kids had ridden their bikes showed him the fluid motion he knew his legs needed. This was his time, he didn’t care if anyone watched him, with an empty street he knew this was when he needed to do this.

I need this

Neville slowly started to put some pressure on his right leg, the front tire shook as he applied his weight

I want this

Both of Neville’s hands went onto the handlebars, both feet were lifted off the ground. He started to move his legs in the natural elliptic motion.

I’ve got this

The bike surged ahead, he held the bike straight. Neville smiled in victory.

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