Title: Re-introducing an old face
Featuring: The Old Lush
Date: May 1, 2015
Location: A ranch somewhere

Seventeen years I’ve been in this sport.

Half my life, really.  

It’s been a journey of highs ‘n lows; moments of tremendous joys and soul crushing tragedies.

And there isn’t a moment.

Not one single moment.

That I would ever trade away.

Seventeen years.

Not because it was my job.

But because it was my passion.

I love this sport.

Let me say it again.

I. Love. This. Sport.

Seventeen years ago I stepped into a place called LCW, it’s long since closed, but some of you might actually remember it. I couldn’t use my given name, to do that would have been to tell the world the family I came from, the legacy I was, so they called me Ulfric.

It became quite a bit of a joke, really.

After all, the promoters knew just who I actually belonged to, but I was seventeen and stupid, and at 220 pounds I could fly around that ring like no one’s business, and damn but I loved to jump off things.

You name the stunt, I did it, and when they saw that I was willing they upped the stakes.

Ladders weren’t enough, someone added balconies, scaffolds, someone else got the brilliant plan to add in barbed wire and tacks. Flames came into play, scars started adding up. I’d been trained to wrestle with the best of them but it wasn’t a wrestler those promoters saw.

It was a daredevil

It was a pain freak

And as I got older, started adding muscle, they saw a fighter

A brawler

Someone they could throw in there with monsters, ‘cause hell, I was a monster too

Their words

Not mine

Not ‘til much, much later.

So I thought to escape that destiny. Fled to the states and the MWL, but that just proved to be more of the same.

Crucifixion match

Barbed wire bat on a pole

Inferno ring of death

When Vince Webb called he promised things would be different. Still, I didn’t believe him, not ‘til my brother told me Vince respected my abilities, wanted us to be a team.

Mike just needed me to change a few things. 

21 years old I signed with BWA, psyched to have a chance to team with my brother. I landed in New Orleans and was quickly met with instructions to change my gear to black on black on silver, start lining my eyes with kohl, coming down in a trench coat, and never, ever, ever speak a word.

Become the Silent Warrior, embrace it, my brother said.

I was 21 and stupid. I listened.

For three years he did the speaking for me. For us.

‘Til the only thing I was known as was Mike’s kid brother.

I could name drop for days the guys who came after me ‘cause of that. The beatings I took, like that time old DB decided I deserved to hang from a chain, not for anything I did, but for the sins of my brother.

We burned up so many miles of road together, won titles, lost them, fought wars, but the bonds of brotherhood couldn’t stand up beneath his ego and my dreams.

Alone, I climbed to the top of the industry, not once but twice. Climbed to the tops of promotions more times than I care to list. Gold gets that tarnished look after a while though, dreams get a little bit hazy. I always wanted something that was just a little out of grasp.

Wasn’t money

Wasn’t accolades

It was something soul deep in places that had long been empty

Unfulfilled

I wanted contentment

I wanted to look upon my life and see the that the destination was worth the trip

Problem was

I never could figure out where I was going

Couldn’t be ‘cause it took sixteen of those seventeen years to figure out who I was.

I wasn’t a daredevil

I wasn’t a monster

I wasn’t Ulfric

And I wasn’t the silent warrior

My name is Derrick Logan

I’m a wrestler

And I love this sport



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