Fuck the Prom Queen

I’ve been telling this story alot recently so I figured I should probably just write up about it, instead of constantly repeating myself. Not that this will likely stop me because I do like to talk but whatever I like to write too. Anyway, not the point

A couple of weeks ago I was driving around with Cat, stressing about something or other like I always do. Fairly certain it was the longsword tournament at new world cup and whether I’d be able to beat Micah, Jake, or Bam Bam. I was worried that I’d go out, get beat like a bitch, and make the Hall look bad. I ended up saying something like “Fuck it, all I can do is go try right.”

Cat responded by quoting the scene above. Or well misquoting but it was close enough. The point got across. Don’t just go and try. Don’t leave yourself excuses. Just go and fucking do it. Leave yourself one option and go get it.

Coming up to NWC we used that phrase, Fuck the Prom Queen, a number of times. It has become one of our go to inside jokes. I didn’t spend much more time stressing about the actual fights as I had to spend most of my time actually prepping. Fixing and cleaning armor, upping my training, Helping the other fighters.

I managed to get through Jake without getting too locked in my own head. Just the way the day went I was too mentally tired to be stressed or scared. Micah got hurt so I never got to face him. After that win though I knew I was fighting Bam Bam. And I knew what I was facing.

Earlier that day I’d just watched him cave in a 12 gauge helm with a longsword. I’d seen him savage Roland, an opponent who’s blade skill had topped my speed for a few exchanges in our last fight. That skill had done nothing to stop the jack hammer blows Bill was throwing. I remember hearing the beating he gave to Sam Awry who has been my frequent dance partner in the this game and was basically my equal every time. Micah had told me about the bruises Bill had left through his armor. I’d watched how his power had just overwhelmed Micah when he had basically walked through all his other opponents last nationals.

I’ll be honest. I was scared. Yeah I know, I’m a pussy. But Shit, dudes 6 foot 17, with gorilla arms wielding a crowbar shaped like a sword. And the best strategy I could come up with was stand toe to toe and bang with him, hoping he tired out first. Shit was going fucking hurt and I didn’t know if I’d be able to push through.

So skip a bunch of bullshit to us standing across from each other in the Finals. I’m freaking out, a repeat of the bullshit over hyped I got myself in Poland. So I calm myself down, tell myself shit doesn’t matter. Remind myself how much I love fighting and that this is just for fun, who cares what happens. Just go out there and do you. The refs were having some sort of problem as this happened and I was able to reach my zen place, my happy fight thinking. I went into guard as the refs approached.

And as I saw Roger walking up, I remember Cat in the car. I remember I was at New World Cup with a singular purpose, showing that the Hall training works. And I realized I wanted that fucking gold. So I told myself one thing, “It’s time to fuck the Prom Queen.” In the end, I think it was that line that won the fight for me.

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