Post by SANGRE on Dec 29, 2022 2:14:10 GMT
December 25, 2022
Las Vegas, New Mexico
“I should have negotiated a bigger van for the kid.”
Coach Lynx shuffles impatiently in the backseat of a passenger van. A film team, stationed in the front seat, captures Lynx staring off-camera. His attention is on the doors of Lone Palm Assisted Living – the residence of Joe Meza. Shortly, MEZA will be emerging from them after visiting his father, a patient in end-of-life stages of Alzheimer’s.
Several years ago, Lynx was introduced to Joe, who was still speaking at that time. During their meeting, Lynx made a promise to mentor MEZA—a soon to be budding wrestler. Due to the rapidly declining nature of Joe’s illness, there was an unspoken understanding that this mentorship would cover the lessons wrestling cannot teach. Independent of the quality of coach, or the promise that bonds them to the student, the process of grief cannot be taught.
MEZA appears from the doorway and Lynx recedes into the seat farthest from the van door. MEZA jumps in and addresses the crew:
“I appreciate ya’ll doing this for me.”
Lynx rests a reassuring hand on MEZA’s shoulder. He acknowledges it and half smiles. His coach gingerly inquires:
“How is he doing, mijo?”
MEZA rotates around to address Lynx.
“It’s the best I’ve seen him, honestly."
Lynx instantly lights up.
“Is he up and moving?”
MEZA shakes his head with the saddest grin.
“He was sleeping. From the hello to goodbye, he was just... out. Nurses say that’s the new norm.”
Before today, Joe’s decline in health was barely observable as he unfortunately weathered over time. Today, Christmas Day, was the first time MEZA saw his father’s health plummet far below the usual trend. Despite their lack of communication, they continued their annual tradition of spending the holiday together.
If it wasn’t clear before this visit, it was clear now: Joe is dying.
MEZA’s watch buzzes and an incoming text message symbol flashes. He checks his phone. A group chat has been created between Pollo Dorado and Red Tiger Mask.
“Heard about your father... reach out to your team if you need us. – PD”
RTK follows up with a “🙏” emoji.
“I think it’s best that we postpone training, mijo. Give you some time to focus on yourself.”
MEZA confirms his vehement disapproval by continuously shaking his head.
“Listen, Coach, I get you. You want to make sure I’m okay and this and that. I’m fine. I just know I want to continue getting ready for OPEN ROAD. Fight me on it all you want, but we’re doing this my way.”
Lynx leans back and lifts his arms in surrender in conjunction with a big smile.
“Hey - I had a feeling, mijo. I was there once too when I had the cancer. I could have hung it up completely but I tossed it all into wrestling; made many pendejos feel my pain. I will support you, either way, you understand?”
MEZA breaks a slight smile. Lynx adds:
“When you were with Joe, I arranged a potential meeting with Dorado—”
MEZA interrupts:
“Are we really going to trust a Pollo, coach? Yeah, yeah, he shows some respect at the HIJO, but he’s one of them.”
Lynx halts MEZA with an extended palm and MEZA complies like a well-trained pooch.
“Cabrón... remember who you’re talking to. I’m like a fricken encyclopedia of everything Pollo. I’m telling you, straight up, in PD we can trust. And don’t even make this a them thing; some Pollos are chill. You just got some inner-freakin-uhhhh-conscience-thing about Hijo. Dorado comes from an honorable Pollo heritage, and he’s shown you no reason to distrust him.”
MEZA, defeated, shrugs his shoulders.
“On top of that, ese, you’re out here looking over your shoulder for Pollos and then there’s the Mustard Pig.”
“You mean The Slaughter Nightmare?”
They laugh and the engine barely roars over the hilarity. Lynx jokes:
“Yoooo—[mocking a rural American accent] Al Chair-doe Merstaza!”
MEZA’s head hangs low as the scenery behind him begins to move. Lynx offers optimism:
“I mean, he’s a dumb idiot in a tablecloth mask. But at least he’s a big dumb idiot.”
MEZA gets serious again and asks:
“Did you make the right decision? When you chose to wrestle through cancer?”
Lynx continues to stare out the van window as the scenery passes by.
“I don’t know, but I think about it every day...”
MEZA turns around and stares out the window at his own wonder. Meanwhile, the van heads for the nearest airport servicing Ontario.
Las Vegas, New Mexico
“I should have negotiated a bigger van for the kid.”
Coach Lynx shuffles impatiently in the backseat of a passenger van. A film team, stationed in the front seat, captures Lynx staring off-camera. His attention is on the doors of Lone Palm Assisted Living – the residence of Joe Meza. Shortly, MEZA will be emerging from them after visiting his father, a patient in end-of-life stages of Alzheimer’s.
Several years ago, Lynx was introduced to Joe, who was still speaking at that time. During their meeting, Lynx made a promise to mentor MEZA—a soon to be budding wrestler. Due to the rapidly declining nature of Joe’s illness, there was an unspoken understanding that this mentorship would cover the lessons wrestling cannot teach. Independent of the quality of coach, or the promise that bonds them to the student, the process of grief cannot be taught.
MEZA appears from the doorway and Lynx recedes into the seat farthest from the van door. MEZA jumps in and addresses the crew:
“I appreciate ya’ll doing this for me.”
Lynx rests a reassuring hand on MEZA’s shoulder. He acknowledges it and half smiles. His coach gingerly inquires:
“How is he doing, mijo?”
MEZA rotates around to address Lynx.
“It’s the best I’ve seen him, honestly."
Lynx instantly lights up.
“Is he up and moving?”
MEZA shakes his head with the saddest grin.
“He was sleeping. From the hello to goodbye, he was just... out. Nurses say that’s the new norm.”
Before today, Joe’s decline in health was barely observable as he unfortunately weathered over time. Today, Christmas Day, was the first time MEZA saw his father’s health plummet far below the usual trend. Despite their lack of communication, they continued their annual tradition of spending the holiday together.
If it wasn’t clear before this visit, it was clear now: Joe is dying.
MEZA’s watch buzzes and an incoming text message symbol flashes. He checks his phone. A group chat has been created between Pollo Dorado and Red Tiger Mask.
“Heard about your father... reach out to your team if you need us. – PD”
RTK follows up with a “🙏” emoji.
“I think it’s best that we postpone training, mijo. Give you some time to focus on yourself.”
MEZA confirms his vehement disapproval by continuously shaking his head.
“Listen, Coach, I get you. You want to make sure I’m okay and this and that. I’m fine. I just know I want to continue getting ready for OPEN ROAD. Fight me on it all you want, but we’re doing this my way.”
Lynx leans back and lifts his arms in surrender in conjunction with a big smile.
“Hey - I had a feeling, mijo. I was there once too when I had the cancer. I could have hung it up completely but I tossed it all into wrestling; made many pendejos feel my pain. I will support you, either way, you understand?”
MEZA breaks a slight smile. Lynx adds:
“When you were with Joe, I arranged a potential meeting with Dorado—”
MEZA interrupts:
“Are we really going to trust a Pollo, coach? Yeah, yeah, he shows some respect at the HIJO, but he’s one of them.”
Lynx halts MEZA with an extended palm and MEZA complies like a well-trained pooch.
“Cabrón... remember who you’re talking to. I’m like a fricken encyclopedia of everything Pollo. I’m telling you, straight up, in PD we can trust. And don’t even make this a them thing; some Pollos are chill. You just got some inner-freakin-uhhhh-conscience-thing about Hijo. Dorado comes from an honorable Pollo heritage, and he’s shown you no reason to distrust him.”
MEZA, defeated, shrugs his shoulders.
“On top of that, ese, you’re out here looking over your shoulder for Pollos and then there’s the Mustard Pig.”
“You mean The Slaughter Nightmare?”
They laugh and the engine barely roars over the hilarity. Lynx jokes:
“Yoooo—[mocking a rural American accent] Al Chair-doe Merstaza!”
MEZA’s head hangs low as the scenery behind him begins to move. Lynx offers optimism:
“I mean, he’s a dumb idiot in a tablecloth mask. But at least he’s a big dumb idiot.”
MEZA gets serious again and asks:
“Did you make the right decision? When you chose to wrestle through cancer?”
Lynx continues to stare out the van window as the scenery passes by.
“I don’t know, but I think about it every day...”
MEZA turns around and stares out the window at his own wonder. Meanwhile, the van heads for the nearest airport servicing Ontario.