Post by Johnny Gillmen on Jun 15, 2016 1:40:00 GMT
JOHNNY GILLMEN'S LOG
June 14, 2016
June 14, 2016
Normally, you'd hear me start these video logs with somethin' like “'Sup dudes and dudettes?!”
But on this night...I've got a few things I need to get off my shoulders.
Last week, y'all watched as I was able to beat Andre Aquarius in a rather fun-filled match that, in all honesty, coulda gone either way. But...when I sat down and watched Andre as he got in front of the camera to say his piece about me, I couldn't help but percieve him as bein' a little over-the-top with his choice of words. They were nothin' more than symbols of hatred to me.
And recent events have made me want to put my own wrestlin' career into perspective.
My heart, thoughts, and prayers go out to those people who were affected greatly by the recent mass shooting that took place in Orlando—home to Disney World, Universal Orlando, and many other tourist spots I've had the pleasure of visitin' throughout my lifetime. The shooter that killed those people in cold blood—people who only wanted to go out, dance the night away, and generally have a good time—had the seeds of hatred implanted within his very soul. He didn't care whether or not those innocents were gay, lesbian, etc.--he wanted to utilize weapons of war just 'cause he resented the American way of life—the very fact that we're free to attend one of these nightclubs or sporting events for the sold purpose of bein' with the ones WE love the most.
That man was a sick, sick person with no conscience, no respect for the world and the people around him.
Anyone who decides to hurt others just 'cause of their sexual preference, their beliefs, their race, etc., ain't no friend of mine as far as I'm concerned. Hatred is wrong—plain and simple—and it goes against everything I've striven to protect ever since I made the choice to become a public figure who works in the sports and entertainment fields. The events in Orlando should be a reminder to us all that we should embrace people for who they are—not condemn them 'cause they don't believe in Islam or some other thing. For they simply wanna have fun in life...
...and dare to dream without fear.
~~~~~~~~
Episode VII
“ENDGAME, PART II”
“ENDGAME, PART II”
April 29, 2016 -- 6:25 PM
We find ourselves back in the Keg Room--which was packed but, on this night, dead silent--on Alameda in Corpus Christi, where Johnny Gillmen stands inside the old pub, staring daggers at rival Biff Hobson as he prepares to do something that, under normal circumstances, went against his peaceful and loving demeanor. Aggie Hobson, Biff's aunt, stands up and holds a paper towel to cover up her busted lip after the bigger, more drunken man had cold-cocked her a few minutes ago. This was the Islander alum at his lowest point in time--for he knew that he had no choice but to fight for the people around him.
Helena, Biff's ex-girlfriend, stood alongside Johnny, rubbing him on his shoulders as he slowly took off the glasses that he wore every day and handed them to her. She gently placed the $600 pair of titanium frames into her clamshell case, handing it to Aggie who placed it in a small drawer behind the bar. It was at this moment in time when Johnny realized what he had to do now; he didn't need to say anything to know that he couldn't turn back. With that reality in place, dozens of fellow bar patrons stood dead-silent, stone-faced as Biff walked out of the pub and into the main parking lot, followed closely by the TAMUCC graduate and his friends.
The mood felt like a scene taken directly from an old Western film--specifically, a one-on-one duel where one person was guaranteed to lose.
Johnny and Biff stood outside, facing each other as bar patrons--along with customers from a nearby Stripes convenience store--began to surround the two like a large crowd gatthering to see some big sporting event in town. Without warning, Biff fired the first punch--a sharp right jab that was immediately blocked by Gillmen. Using his knowledge of Shotokan, the Islander alum grabbed his larger rival and kneed him straight to the ribs, following that up with a series of swift roundhouse punches to the face which knock Biff to his knees. Grabbing the top of Biff's head by the hair, Johnny raised his right hand up into the air, ready to deliver the final blow...
...only to take a punch straight to the groin--one that he didn't see coming.
Johnny never even had the chance to breathe--much less favor his netherregion--as Biff laid onto him with hook after right hook, cross after left cross, kick after front kick, until he could no longer fight. Within seconds, Gillmen's face looked like it had been in a car accident as he crumpled to the asphalt, struggling to breathe as Biff continued kicking him while he was on the ground. Satisfied with the damage he caused, Biff finally backed off, cackling with glee as Johnny lied motionless on the pavement, seemingly out of it.
In Johnny's mind, he couldn't hear the cackling. He couldn't see his girlfriend shaking her head, crying as she leaned upon Aggie's shoulder for comfort. His thoughts could only centralize themselves on the most important aspect of his life, the one person he truly loved the most on this earth.
"Mom..."
It was as if time seemed to stop around him, his life flashing before his very eyes...
...for he was about to enter a brand-new horizon--a place that was not of this world.
~TO BE CONTINUED~
~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~
Ya know somethin' Dylan, in a previous life I coulda envisioned myself as a rebel...
...and in fact, I still do to this very day.
After all, I went to school on an island, walked along its palm-filled beaches, jogged through its outdoor breezeways in the pourin' rain...all that good stuff. Like you, I considered myself to be adaptive, willin' to learn anything and everything that my profs managed to throw at me. I envisioned myself as bein' a true classroom leader despite the fact that I didn't quite make the high-A's like most of my fellow classmates. And even when things didn't turn out the way I wanted 'em to, I always found myself comin' back for more, never givin' up on my dream to earn that degree and make my own life mean somethin'. So in a nutshell, ya could say that I was a rebel—overcomin' my own shortcomings on the road to becomin' a true champion in life when other people might, say, laugh at me or condemn me for who I was. And when I transitioned from college into the wrestlin' circuit, I wanted to do nothin' else but stick to the very same principles that have guided me throughout my entire existence.
All 'cause I dared to dream.
And I did so...without turnin' my back upon the tenets that have guided me—things like humility and patience.
There's a mondo BIG reason why ya couldn't survive Mark Storm's storm—no pun intended—and that's very simple. You were reckless, willin' to go for that extra maneuver in when reality...ya didn't need to. You were too prideful for your own good, thinkin' that ya could just walk into a match with nothin' to lose, thus underestimatin' your opponent. In the heat of the moment, when everything counted the most, ya walked into that arena on a mission from God per se, wantin' to take on Storm without learnin' how to pick and choose wisely. And it cost ya—royally. For bein' a true rebel ain't about takin' risks or bein' so full of one's pride. It's about learnin' to slow down, takin' in the scenery while savorin' every moment ya have in that ring. I could teach ya those things come Tuesday...
...but it'll cost ya more than just a handful of tuition dinero—or a slice of pepperoni heaven.
See ya Tuesday Dylan—and keep on dreamin'.
...and in fact, I still do to this very day.
After all, I went to school on an island, walked along its palm-filled beaches, jogged through its outdoor breezeways in the pourin' rain...all that good stuff. Like you, I considered myself to be adaptive, willin' to learn anything and everything that my profs managed to throw at me. I envisioned myself as bein' a true classroom leader despite the fact that I didn't quite make the high-A's like most of my fellow classmates. And even when things didn't turn out the way I wanted 'em to, I always found myself comin' back for more, never givin' up on my dream to earn that degree and make my own life mean somethin'. So in a nutshell, ya could say that I was a rebel—overcomin' my own shortcomings on the road to becomin' a true champion in life when other people might, say, laugh at me or condemn me for who I was. And when I transitioned from college into the wrestlin' circuit, I wanted to do nothin' else but stick to the very same principles that have guided me throughout my entire existence.
All 'cause I dared to dream.
And I did so...without turnin' my back upon the tenets that have guided me—things like humility and patience.
There's a mondo BIG reason why ya couldn't survive Mark Storm's storm—no pun intended—and that's very simple. You were reckless, willin' to go for that extra maneuver in when reality...ya didn't need to. You were too prideful for your own good, thinkin' that ya could just walk into a match with nothin' to lose, thus underestimatin' your opponent. In the heat of the moment, when everything counted the most, ya walked into that arena on a mission from God per se, wantin' to take on Storm without learnin' how to pick and choose wisely. And it cost ya—royally. For bein' a true rebel ain't about takin' risks or bein' so full of one's pride. It's about learnin' to slow down, takin' in the scenery while savorin' every moment ya have in that ring. I could teach ya those things come Tuesday...
...but it'll cost ya more than just a handful of tuition dinero—or a slice of pepperoni heaven.
See ya Tuesday Dylan—and keep on dreamin'.