Post by Admin on Aug 28, 2017 14:58:10 GMT -6
We've seen some things from the guy "simply" known as Prince Terry but he's yet to come to the forefront of the sport thus far. He's the son of Cole Young Terry, nephew of Simple Simon Terry, younger brother to Felix Anthony Terry. Growing up in a wrestling family can't be easy, but it can definitely be fun. Playtime is over now. His uncle Simon is on a different brand. His father cut ties with the wrestling business years ago. His brother has been basically given up on American wrestling now and spends most of his time in Japan and Mexico.
Prince Terry is now alone in the business. Not only that, but he's completely surrounded by enemies. Surrounded by guys who want to make a name for themselves. Surrounded by threats.
He's been tormented backstage in SX shows for months now, simply because of his last name. He's been kicked out of locker rooms and told that he was only here because of his family. He's been bullied by legends and newcomers alike. He's been told that he doesn't have any real talent and that he's just here to get a paycheck from his name.
Prince Terry is dressed in an almost "hipster" style outfit.....skinny jeans rolled up at the bottom, a pair of checkerboard Vans, a blue button up slim fit shirt, and a gray fedora hat. His tattoos stick out from every edge of his clothing...ankles, neck, wrist. He sits an outdoor cafe in New Orleans, drinking on a cup of French vanilla coffee.
PT: People say I don't belong here. People say that I've only won a handful of matches so far. People say that I'm only here because I'm a Terry. They say that I'll never amount to what my father was. I'll never be as prestigious a wrestler as my uncle Simon. They say that I don't have the athletics of my older brother. They say I'm just the spoiled youngest son of Cole Terry.
Terry swirls the coffee in his cup, takes a drink.
PT: I've never used the poor little rich kid routine. I've never tried to use my father, uncle, or brother as a way in to the business. I even tried to professionally change my last name. The promoters wouldn't allow it. They say it'll help get me "over". Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. I'm proud of what Cole Terry, SST, and Felix have accomplished in their time wrestling. I just knew that it would be a challenge and it has. My first night out of the gate, doing some house show, I was deemed with the nickname "snowflake". The so called legends that got their asses kicked by my uncle all around the world, they bullied me. It made me thing that maybe they were right. Maybe I'm too soft for this business. Maybe, just maybe, I didn't have the talent to make it. It didn't matter at that point. I'd already signed a contract. I wasn't going to give up.
They saw that I was going to stick around. They saw that some name calling wasn't going to get me to quit. I thought that I had won them over. I thought that I'd gained their respect. But then the next house show, I was locked out of the locker room. I had to change clothes in the public bathrooms. I had to sit my wrestling gear on the back of a toilet. I had to wash my hair in a bathroom sink. Yet still I stuck around. Some of the guys lightened up on me a bit.
Terry focuses on his coffee once again. Takes another drink.
PT: I thought that was the end of it. Guys still referred to me as "snowflake" on occasion. They still like to rib at me. But after a few months, it slowed down. They'd seen that I was there to stay and they left me alone. Until Benjamin Silverman decided to host the SLAM Night of the Newcomers. He hired a bunch of new guys. He scouted talent all over the world and brought them in for a shot. No sooner than those guys come in, they looked at me. Some of them hadn't wrestled in front of a crowd of more that 50 people. Those "newcomers" came in and I'd thought they'd get the same treatment I got in my first few months. I thought the experienced guys would tear them down. But that's not what happened.
Terry sits the coffee down on a table then walks over and leans against a wall.
PT: Those new guys came in thinking they ran the damn place. They'd had one damned televised match and they thought they were the big time. Guys like Arabinda, Gustavo, Dopender. They came in. One of them heard one of the vets call me snowflake. They all started calling me Snowflake too. They walked around here like they were running the place. And who's to blame them, Silverman opened up his checkbook and offered them all contracts after one night. But they thought they were better than me. And that just simply won't do.
Those kids and vets alike will see that I'm not just some second generation wannabe. It's my time to shine. It's my time to prove to SX, those snot nosed newcomers, those crippled up has beens, and the whole damn world that the name Terry isn't all I'm about. I'm the damned crown prince of wrestling. All I need now is my crown. That crown will be the SX International championship. I'm going to destroy all the peasants that stand in my way. I'm going to walk out of the first edition of Heat as the face of the brand. I'm going to walk out with that shiny new belt. Anyone who steps in my way will see that I'm here to stay and I'm not just here to carry on some tradition.
Prince Terry is now alone in the business. Not only that, but he's completely surrounded by enemies. Surrounded by guys who want to make a name for themselves. Surrounded by threats.
He's been tormented backstage in SX shows for months now, simply because of his last name. He's been kicked out of locker rooms and told that he was only here because of his family. He's been bullied by legends and newcomers alike. He's been told that he doesn't have any real talent and that he's just here to get a paycheck from his name.
Prince Terry is dressed in an almost "hipster" style outfit.....skinny jeans rolled up at the bottom, a pair of checkerboard Vans, a blue button up slim fit shirt, and a gray fedora hat. His tattoos stick out from every edge of his clothing...ankles, neck, wrist. He sits an outdoor cafe in New Orleans, drinking on a cup of French vanilla coffee.
PT: People say I don't belong here. People say that I've only won a handful of matches so far. People say that I'm only here because I'm a Terry. They say that I'll never amount to what my father was. I'll never be as prestigious a wrestler as my uncle Simon. They say that I don't have the athletics of my older brother. They say I'm just the spoiled youngest son of Cole Terry.
Terry swirls the coffee in his cup, takes a drink.
PT: I've never used the poor little rich kid routine. I've never tried to use my father, uncle, or brother as a way in to the business. I even tried to professionally change my last name. The promoters wouldn't allow it. They say it'll help get me "over". Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. I'm proud of what Cole Terry, SST, and Felix have accomplished in their time wrestling. I just knew that it would be a challenge and it has. My first night out of the gate, doing some house show, I was deemed with the nickname "snowflake". The so called legends that got their asses kicked by my uncle all around the world, they bullied me. It made me thing that maybe they were right. Maybe I'm too soft for this business. Maybe, just maybe, I didn't have the talent to make it. It didn't matter at that point. I'd already signed a contract. I wasn't going to give up.
They saw that I was going to stick around. They saw that some name calling wasn't going to get me to quit. I thought that I had won them over. I thought that I'd gained their respect. But then the next house show, I was locked out of the locker room. I had to change clothes in the public bathrooms. I had to sit my wrestling gear on the back of a toilet. I had to wash my hair in a bathroom sink. Yet still I stuck around. Some of the guys lightened up on me a bit.
Terry focuses on his coffee once again. Takes another drink.
PT: I thought that was the end of it. Guys still referred to me as "snowflake" on occasion. They still like to rib at me. But after a few months, it slowed down. They'd seen that I was there to stay and they left me alone. Until Benjamin Silverman decided to host the SLAM Night of the Newcomers. He hired a bunch of new guys. He scouted talent all over the world and brought them in for a shot. No sooner than those guys come in, they looked at me. Some of them hadn't wrestled in front of a crowd of more that 50 people. Those "newcomers" came in and I'd thought they'd get the same treatment I got in my first few months. I thought the experienced guys would tear them down. But that's not what happened.
Terry sits the coffee down on a table then walks over and leans against a wall.
PT: Those new guys came in thinking they ran the damn place. They'd had one damned televised match and they thought they were the big time. Guys like Arabinda, Gustavo, Dopender. They came in. One of them heard one of the vets call me snowflake. They all started calling me Snowflake too. They walked around here like they were running the place. And who's to blame them, Silverman opened up his checkbook and offered them all contracts after one night. But they thought they were better than me. And that just simply won't do.
Those kids and vets alike will see that I'm not just some second generation wannabe. It's my time to shine. It's my time to prove to SX, those snot nosed newcomers, those crippled up has beens, and the whole damn world that the name Terry isn't all I'm about. I'm the damned crown prince of wrestling. All I need now is my crown. That crown will be the SX International championship. I'm going to destroy all the peasants that stand in my way. I'm going to walk out of the first edition of Heat as the face of the brand. I'm going to walk out with that shiny new belt. Anyone who steps in my way will see that I'm here to stay and I'm not just here to carry on some tradition.