Post by SANGRE on Feb 8, 2023 23:16:25 GMT
We are introduced to grainy footage of a news segment that aired some time ago...
“Kidney cancer is a diagnosis that can instantly change the life of any person. For this professional wrestler, it became his reality...”
A snowstorm is raging on the Lhotse Face as a string of climbers, connected only by a tether, battle the conditions to move forward. A familiar mentor’s voice shouts encouragement against the freezing wind.
“...After his diagnosis, his doctors performed life-saving surgery, removing the affected portion of the kidney and sent to recover. It was during this recovery that he made himself a promise...”
A younger Lynx is smiling and drinking a cup of tea in the warmth of a base camp tent. A subtitle below him reads:
Lynx
Cancer Survivor/Luchadore
Base Camp 2
“Initially with the cancer, I thought—this is it. This is how I go. After the surgery, the fog kinda went away, you know? It was then, you know, that I said to myself—’Ay ese, what you doin’ with this life now that you got it back?’
GoPro footage reveals a line of people in neon climbing gear trekking along the Lhotse face like ants struggling to make it to the top of the hill.
“On top of the fourth largest mountain in the world and after having pinned cancer, Lynx is finding ways to live his new life to the fullest.”
Lynx plants his feet assuredly on the barely hardened snow. One wrong step would create disastrous, and steep, consequences for him and his team.
“I’ve been skydiving, deep sea diving, race-car driving, bull runnin’, hmm—we're doing K2 soon. I’ve just found a sense of life, while also operating on the edge of it. To pay my debt back to God or to my guardian angels, I need to squeeze the juice out of life until there is nothing left. But, you know, there will always be juice to squeeze out of life!”
... Several Years Later...
The morning after the ROAD WARRIORS event.
A hungover Lynx sits at the hotel breakfast alone and stares catatonically at the clouds of milk in his cup. His face wore the many years of life he saved by drinking unpalatable juice cleanses. In silence he wallows in the memory of reaching the summit of Lhotse before it’s interrupted by a plate full of bacon, eggs, and toast slamming the table.
“Holy-fucking-shit, Coach. How are you functioning this early?”
Lynx sips his tea nonchalantly.
“I’ve been through worse.”
MEZA starts haphazardly building a breakfast sandwich.
Lynx coldly says in between sips:
“I don’t want to be your coach anymore, mijo.”
With a mouthful, MEZA tries to blurt out:
“Wha?!”
“Our relationship as student-teacher has run its course, no? Look at what you’ve achieved within a short time span. You don’t need a coach and I’m getting too old to coach someone else on their own dreams."
“But, Coach?”
“Coach no more...we are teammates, mijo.”
Lynx slides a napkin over to Lynx. MEZA is about to use it to wipe his face but notices something.
“After we beat the frenemies, I just realized that you've surpassed my coaching ability and I wrote that down last night.”
“What is this?”
MEZA holds up the napkin and points to some drunken scribbles.
“Dice Patrimonio, mijo, come on.”
“I can read Spanish. Why did you write the word “heritage” on a strip club napkin?”
“That’s exactly it, cabrón. If I’m not your coach anymore, I’m your partner. And if we are a team, we gotta have a cool name.”
MEZA lets it settle while he sips a bloody mary.
“Heritage... Patrimonio.”
“Let me put it this way—we are the last, true remnants of the old world in Mexico. Nowadays everyone is a Pollo, is trained by a Pollo, or was never trained by a genuine luchadore to begin with. Case-and-point, that big chingón, Merdo. There’s no more of us left.”
“I was born in New Mexico, Coach—Lynx-sorry. I’m not Mexican by nationality. You’re painting me to be the last warrior of some fuckin’ Mayan tribe.”
“Your Papa? Mexican. Your Mama? Mexican. You were trained by a Mexican. You completed your training in Mexico. No matter which side of the border, our roots, our heritage, binds us.”
“What does this mean for the rumble?”
Lynx cackles and jokes:
“If it’s down to you and me, better not hold back any punches...”
“Who says I’m not dumping you from the start?”
And with that, the two enjoy the first meal of their alliance, while also celebrating MEZA's graduation from student to friend.
The Patrimonio.
“Kidney cancer is a diagnosis that can instantly change the life of any person. For this professional wrestler, it became his reality...”
A snowstorm is raging on the Lhotse Face as a string of climbers, connected only by a tether, battle the conditions to move forward. A familiar mentor’s voice shouts encouragement against the freezing wind.
“...After his diagnosis, his doctors performed life-saving surgery, removing the affected portion of the kidney and sent to recover. It was during this recovery that he made himself a promise...”
A younger Lynx is smiling and drinking a cup of tea in the warmth of a base camp tent. A subtitle below him reads:
Lynx
Cancer Survivor/Luchadore
Base Camp 2
“Initially with the cancer, I thought—this is it. This is how I go. After the surgery, the fog kinda went away, you know? It was then, you know, that I said to myself—’Ay ese, what you doin’ with this life now that you got it back?’
GoPro footage reveals a line of people in neon climbing gear trekking along the Lhotse face like ants struggling to make it to the top of the hill.
“On top of the fourth largest mountain in the world and after having pinned cancer, Lynx is finding ways to live his new life to the fullest.”
Lynx plants his feet assuredly on the barely hardened snow. One wrong step would create disastrous, and steep, consequences for him and his team.
“I’ve been skydiving, deep sea diving, race-car driving, bull runnin’, hmm—we're doing K2 soon. I’ve just found a sense of life, while also operating on the edge of it. To pay my debt back to God or to my guardian angels, I need to squeeze the juice out of life until there is nothing left. But, you know, there will always be juice to squeeze out of life!”
... Several Years Later...
The morning after the ROAD WARRIORS event.
A hungover Lynx sits at the hotel breakfast alone and stares catatonically at the clouds of milk in his cup. His face wore the many years of life he saved by drinking unpalatable juice cleanses. In silence he wallows in the memory of reaching the summit of Lhotse before it’s interrupted by a plate full of bacon, eggs, and toast slamming the table.
“Holy-fucking-shit, Coach. How are you functioning this early?”
Lynx sips his tea nonchalantly.
“I’ve been through worse.”
MEZA starts haphazardly building a breakfast sandwich.
Lynx coldly says in between sips:
“I don’t want to be your coach anymore, mijo.”
With a mouthful, MEZA tries to blurt out:
“Wha?!”
“Our relationship as student-teacher has run its course, no? Look at what you’ve achieved within a short time span. You don’t need a coach and I’m getting too old to coach someone else on their own dreams."
“But, Coach?”
“Coach no more...we are teammates, mijo.”
Lynx slides a napkin over to Lynx. MEZA is about to use it to wipe his face but notices something.
“After we beat the frenemies, I just realized that you've surpassed my coaching ability and I wrote that down last night.”
“What is this?”
MEZA holds up the napkin and points to some drunken scribbles.
“Dice Patrimonio, mijo, come on.”
“I can read Spanish. Why did you write the word “heritage” on a strip club napkin?”
“That’s exactly it, cabrón. If I’m not your coach anymore, I’m your partner. And if we are a team, we gotta have a cool name.”
MEZA lets it settle while he sips a bloody mary.
“Heritage... Patrimonio.”
“Let me put it this way—we are the last, true remnants of the old world in Mexico. Nowadays everyone is a Pollo, is trained by a Pollo, or was never trained by a genuine luchadore to begin with. Case-and-point, that big chingón, Merdo. There’s no more of us left.”
“I was born in New Mexico, Coach—Lynx-sorry. I’m not Mexican by nationality. You’re painting me to be the last warrior of some fuckin’ Mayan tribe.”
“Your Papa? Mexican. Your Mama? Mexican. You were trained by a Mexican. You completed your training in Mexico. No matter which side of the border, our roots, our heritage, binds us.”
“What does this mean for the rumble?”
Lynx cackles and jokes:
“If it’s down to you and me, better not hold back any punches...”
“Who says I’m not dumping you from the start?”
And with that, the two enjoy the first meal of their alliance, while also celebrating MEZA's graduation from student to friend.
The Patrimonio.