TED Talk. [Arcadia Promo #1]

(We quietly fade into the scene, entering what appears to be the performance center of the Omega Wrestling Alliance in Philadelphia. The camera showcases the welcoming sign planted on the wall by the entrance and begins panning left across the area. We scroll past the weight sets and rowing machines, go past the treadmills, stationary bikes and ellipticals and do so all without seeing a single soul occupying any of it. The performance center has been entirely emptied out, giving off the feeling of a private, sedated environment.

We move further through the location as the exercise equipment is replaced with an array of different sized practice rings being set up. There’s still not a person in sight as we make it to the end of the room….until we follow behind the sounds of footsteps bouncing off a canvas. In the very last ring we see Teddy Mac in ring boots, athletic shorts and a PC training shirt with a fifteen foot ladder standing before him. Teddy Mac looks up at the ladder, his eyes following it all of the way up to the ceiling. The gears are clearly turning in his mind of what he wants to do upon moving his eyes back to the very bottom of the ladder and rubbing his hands together.)

Teddy Mac: Welp…

(Teddy Mac goes from observing to immediately taking action within a split second, breaking out towards the ladder and beginning his climb at a rapid pace. There are no breaks in Teddy’s stride as he pulls himself up rung by rung, focused as ever on his task. You can see that Teddy is in the zone, almost as if he is in the midst of battle as there is a sense of urgency in his movement. Each inch he moves is vital and being hit quicker than the next. Teddy has scaled the ladder like a squirrel up a tree, making it to the last rung at record time before vaulting over the top cap and sitting upon it; conquering his mission with a look of satisfaction and hunger on his face. Teddy enjoys his view from the top for several moments, the room dead silent while he’s deep in thought. After allowing this pregnant pause to hold for a few more beats, Mac lets out a sigh of introspection.)

Teddy Mac: This. This is all too familiar to me. The feeling of the climb. I’ve been through it countless times; long before I ever set foot into a ring even. It’s an act that has become natural for me, almost as if I was born for it. Yeah…..as a matter of fact, I think you can say I was. From an early age I knew what it was like to be on the bottom; looking up ahead at success and the good life while wanting it so bad. Doing everything I could to ascend to that level, practically salivating at the golden ticket of opportunity to rescue me from my situation. You see, I grew up a chubby, poorly dressed and unathletic little twerp raised in a household that stifled creativity and brought down optimism. Don’t get me wrong, my parents were loving and supportive…..but they also preached believing in dreams that were realistic. And one look at me, let alone a lifetime of raising me would tell you to realistically box me underneath a low, low ceiling.  They instilled in me to think about things on a small scale. Just try to get by and make a living. Don’t rock the boat in this world, just keep your head down and ride the wave. I was taught that you had to draw within the lines that you are told to, that going out of bounds is how you get hurt.
I can’t blame them in all honesty as my father was still dealing with the climb himself.

My dad knew what it was like to be a kid in my position: wide eyed and hopeful with big dreams and all sorts of fancy ideas floating in his head. He too entered this world feeling like there were endless possibilities waiting for him and all he had to do was step up and take them.

Heh.

(Teddy lightly chuckles to himself.)

Teddy Mac: then all of the harshness of this world came in to cut him down to size.

My dad had a vision for himself that he wanted to manifest so badly. He pictured that one day you’d see his face on the paper, hear his name on the radio; that there’d be movies about him singing the praises of the great man that he indeed is. My father has one hell of a work ethic. He had all of the qualifications and credentials to be a man of importance; the person you see at the top of the mountain. He knew that too. By all accounts he had “IT.”Most likely to succeed in his class. Most likely to be famous. But when it came time to realize it?

(Teddy winces to himself and rolls his neck, looking down with sympathy.)

Teddy Mac: He entered the real world and it was off to the races. He had a head start up that ladder, was ready to climb through society with vigor only to get stuck at rung four or five. The daily grind got to him, man. All sorts of cold factors that come with the life we live began to interfere with his potential. Politics, cheaters, bad luck and circumstance all came together to provide the perfect storm that weighed my father down and he never shook it off. Nobody cared to help him, either. He came from poverty. He didn’t look like the big wigs, he didn’t act like them and he definitely didn’t compromise his morals like them to get into their little club.  So for that, he was permanently written into his role in the world. The worker bee. The guy who breaks his back in the factory, who puts in all the sweat that makes a leading man, but who doesn’t get the reward of it. My father used to tell himself that he would overcome it. That he could only be held down for so long before he breaks out and grabs that brass ring. That day never came, though and eventually he gave up.  He gave up on the climb and planted his feet firmly on the ground, saying goodbye to ambition. He was humbled. Went from a kid with dreams to a justifiably bitter man that had been whittled down to a life of another soulless drone.

Imagine being in that man’s position, imagine looking at your son with his gigantic aspirations and seeing yourself in him. Looking at your precious little creation who doesn’t know how bad things can get and still believes in fairness and balance; knowing that sooner or later reality will hit him like a ton of bricks. You yourself have already been through such a sour outcome and it SHATTERED you so just think about what it will do to him! At that point you gotta bare down on him. You feel the need to protect him by instilling low expectations, tightening guidelines and letting him know that being a superstar is out of his reach. You tell him to think on a smaller scale. “Aim just a little better than me, son. Try to be an office worker.”

But to even get to that point you must start somewhere and like I said, I wasn’t the most favorable person as a child.  I wasn’t popular, I wasn’t viewed as talented or gifted and I would go to school every day getting bullied for not being like the rest. Tormented because I was viewed as lesser than. I would get beaten to the ground and have it hammered into my head constantly that I wouldn’t amount to anything in my life. Given every reason in the book to give up and stop showing my face. I kept showing up though. Every day, doing my best to block it out and showcasing persistence. I was determined to hit that next rung my father wasn’t able to grab ahold of. I made it out of that hellhole of an educational environment and I got that corporate job of mine with the pretty office and the expensive desk. I avoided one pitfall that my father was forced into and so I began my mission to go up the corporate ladder.

And I’ll admit right here. I ran right into the same problem he was talking about. I stalled. The weights started getting attached to my ankles. The politics came in. The pushback was being applied. I was being prepped for the same place my daddy was, the only difference from his factory line was the fact I was a drone in a cubicle. I upgraded but not really. I still had ways to go. Ways that those dickheads in the board rooms were never going to let me even look ahead to. And you know what? One day I had enough. I refused to settle for fourth or fifth rung. I refused to watch others climb ahead of me when I deserved to make it before them. When I first got my job I viewed it as carrying the torch of my father; I did it for him because he didn’t get to reach that point. Well if I wanted to properly carry on for my dad the only right way to do it was to not just go one step ahead. I was going to stake my claim for both of us at the HEAD of the hierarchy. I decided to FORCE my way up the pecking order. And when I set out to do that I didn’t look to just join the leagues of my superiors, I outpaced them and went further. I decided to climb all of the way to the STARS! I forewent the paperwork and the mundane business calls, took off the suit and ties and laced up a pair of wrestling boots. I threw away everything I was familiar with and entered a brand new, far less safe environment to fulfill myself. Matter of fact, not only me. Not only my dad. I dedicated this rise to EVERYONE who was knocked for their ambition, had opportunities taken from them, or who were made to give up on progressing in their goals. I stood in rebellion against that, setting out to be a success story! Once I started moving up, there was no stopping me!

The man who had no athletic bone in his body, the man who was pencil pushing only months before hand somehow made something of himself and caught a little buzz in a matter of months, haters be damned, ego filled veterans be damned, and preconceived notions of who should have what place in this world BE DAMNED. I excelled in spite of it all. First it was leading drills for my wrestling school, then it was doing small cards in front of fifty, sixty people, then it was tearing it up in venues of a THOUSAND. Next thing you know it’s calls to be in this very performance center working for OWA and from there….the call from Wrestleworld. Every time I was meant to hit my ceiling, I went higher than I’ve ever fucking been. Because I swore to myself that there would be nothing that could pull me down from my ascension. Decline was not an option, neither was stagnation. I had too much riding on this; I was too above whatever could be flung at me to get in my way. I had to become what I wanted to be and there was never going to be any telling me no. I was doing this for the people at home, I was doing it for my father, and I was doing it for my daughters so they knew that anything is possible; they knew that their dad didn’t just lay down and die when things got tough. From the very second I entered this company my momentum snowballed! There was no keeping me on DOMINION for long because all I did was defeat greater and greater opposition; turning each opponent into a rung left behind on my way to the grand objective.

We fast forward to Dreamworld and the metaphorical climb becomes something physical. A real moment. A tangible showcase of all the success this underdog has managed to find for himself. There were so many odds mounting against me on my journey but through it all I soldiered on. I was a part of the rookie team in that four way ladder match and if you were to go based on the betting odds you could have said we were the fourth string team as well. Jag and I had something special and if you truly watched our matches you could recognize that, but the circus that is our business made it easy to ignore in the grand scheme. We weren’t viewed as even being in the conversation both by the masses and our competitors. When you truly break it down, that four way could act as a microcosm of the obstacles that stand in the way of the common man’s advancement, both in this industry and society. You had the asshole jocks who  were used to winning EVERYTHING and bully out any threats they sense in the locker room; the textbook alpha male that wants to keep a stranglehold on their spot through and means necessary. The Red Zone District were the arrogant and emotionally volatile champions who took offense at the mere idea of anyone having even a fraction of the shine that they did. I still remember them running down my credibility with demoralizing fat jokes like it was yesterday; they sure were insulted at the fact that I was constantly being associated with them.

The second team were the snobby elite not unlike the company owners I’ve crossed in the past. People born with silver spoons in their mouths that afforded them far more opportunities than me or you. Those who thought their riches made them automatically better and so they dismissed the kids who came up from the gutter as not being worth sharing a space with them. And then there was the third team - Steele and Gamer. The team that was clearly out of their depth, had no chemistry as a team, but who were rooted for out of love for their comedic timing. A team that blatantly didn’t have the talent but everyone stepped out of the way and let them cut the line because they were liked. Literally succeeding off of hype from trends at the time. Wrestleworld was trying to sell that act heavily at the time and best believe they had the merchandise hot off the presses if they won.

I had to read every prediction, listen to every sports analyst and battle with the doubts inside of myself that were telling me we didn’t belong. That we weren’t meant to make it up that ladder, that we could come close but not get to the end. Jag and I got put through the ringer that night, but in the end we persevered. When the playing field was leveled and it was just four teams competing with skills put before politics….who came out the winner? When everyone put their cards out on the table who straight up hand the better hand? Who wanted it more? Who willed themselves to keep on pushing when their tank was running on E, their bodies were broken down and the pressure was at its peak? Jag and I. We climbed that ladder, pulled down the straps and made ourselves champions over those three archetypes.

I’ve grabbed many brass rings and led many divisions in my short time in pro wrestling, but none meant more to me than what I achieved that night. Everything about it was so perfect. There was no asterisks to that accolade, no claims of interference like my OWA tag title win with Nobi, no questions of whether it even happened like my OWT win -- it was three of Wrestleworld’s most propped up teams being defeated cleanly on the biggest stage possible. A textbook case of the cream always rising to the top. Those belts cemented that we were faster. We were stronger. And we were better. We held those belts up high and in that moment we were undeniable. We were top guys. We stuck it to the traditional order of things. We EARNED our climb.

Jag was someone with the same ideals as me. He was a good man. As we all realize, good men are seen as marks in this business. Easy come ups to take advantage of. Jag and I enjoyed our moment at the top of the ladder but sooner than we thought an undesirable reared their ugly head to grab Jag by the ankle and pull him down. They took Jag to the abyss and made sure he could NEVER get back up. They crushed his dream out of envy because they were too slow to get it like how he did. And with Jag’s dream crushed, mine was assumed to be by proxy. We climbed up top together. We go down together. Fortunately that wasn’t the case. Fortunately I was joined by someone who has been a friend of mine since we were kids running around the streets and goofing around. When neither of us had two pennies to rub together. Travis Murphy came up from the mud in North Carolina the same way I did. We were making upward moves together in life since day one! Travis might not have been seen on TV like I had. He might not have a NAME in this business or some flashy background story, but he’s as legitimate as they come. You can’t talk to HIM about paying dues or what he doesn’t deserve. Travis isn’t a delusional persona or a character who spends his days sitting around praying for handouts. He’s the man you can find in the heart of any neighborhood. He doesn’t gotta lie on what he’s about; he’s REAL.

He’s the definition of someone who hustles every day, who busts his ass for every dollar earned and stresses to take care of his own. He might not have been looking up at the lights in the ring for 365 days like our rivals have, but he’s been climbing toward this moment since before they were even a thought. Travis joined me at the top after 31 years of going through the struggle. Of making a way for himself! Anyone who knows Travis will tell you he is a fighter! They’ll tell you he has heart! Travis was a champion when he won State for us in the football field over a decade ago, and he was a certified champion when he held up that tag title with me the very first night I wrestled without Jag! The shit Travis has seen and the amount of times he’s had to get his hands dirty outweighs any match our contemporaries have had in this division. I wanted him by my side for a REASON. I’ve witnessed his resume firsthand, that chance was his for the taking and he ran with it. Him holding that belt with me was like his graduation; it was a long overdue transition to that next level in his life. A validation of his life’s work. He wasn’t with me at Dreamworld but he don’t need that five seconds of footage to prove that he can scale a ladder. Call us a fraudulent tag team, call him not a real wrestler, do whatever you please in throwing your tomatoes up high hoping to hit us from the clouds….but watch War of the Worlds when you’re done. Watch how quickly we clean up any defamation to our name. Run back how decisively we prevail when someone tries to take our place in the skies.

Send them back to earth like it’s nothing. We hold our own. We maintain what we’ve exhausted ourselves to possess.  Nobi and Reno hated us for their own inaction. Their own inability to gain ground on what they wanted. They looked to take it out on us. Poor plan messing with us. Their green eyes turned to black eyes from the clobberin’ we dished out. Didn’t give those boys a HOPE of touching us. That loss was a lesson to them. It gave their immature minds some time to reevaluate. You’ll never make it to the top by bringing down the next man. It falls on you. You have the same two hands and twenty four hours as anyone else, the only reason why you ain’t making it is is because you lack something they don’t. The sooner you learn that, the sooner you get to feel true power and respect. Until then you’ll never have a firm place quite like the seat I’m sitting on right now.

This is vital information that I’m sharing. Information that I’m going to have to get more personal in teaching to our temporary Campeons de Parejas. Sweet Melody. Everyone and their mother has viewed Cero Miedo by now. The whole world watched Sweet Melody pull off the heist of the century, a coup which they defended with made up causes of conspiracy and injustice that could never apply to them in a million years. April Song and Hana Nakajima are two girls that were never held back. It was the opposite even. These were two girls that were being put EVERYWHERE from the moment they surfaced in the wrestling world. Hana Nakajima herself was in HIGH SCHOOL working in dojos, getting handpicked to be the next big joshi on excursion. She literally grew up into stardom and had big money deals and title shots being given to her before she could legally drink. They’ve been put in every position possible to have fruitful careers that rosters of people would cut a limb off for. None of them worked out for them, not out any interference, not out of any favoritism, but because they lost on their own accord. Rather than dusting themselves off, creating new gameplans, studying others and marking down the keys to success….the answer they found was the nasty attitudes we see today. The thieving mentality that has tainted our biweekly Chapter shows. You won’t self reflect and so you hate on the next man.

“They have what I deserve.”
They’re at where I should be.”

If you deserved it you would have had it. If you should be there, you would. Brainstorm how you can join them in the winner’s circle instead of victimizing yourself in context of other’s achievements. April and Hana couldn’t get over that hurdle. So they stewed and stewed for months. Year, even. Gritting their teeth and seething when they see yet another promising Client do bigger things than them. It was like they were stealing from them. It was as if they took an escalator for their path. Their hearts turned cold watching others go over them from the very last rung…..the rung of title shots and main events that they couldn’t pull themselves past. They were fingertips away but didn’t have it in to grasp it fully and it became easier to act like the machine was yanking it away instead of it being a matter of falling short. This mindset….this echochamber that Sweet Melody found themselves in once April got Hana along for the ride, culminated in what we see today.You two might have the physical belts but you’re no different than Nobi and Reno, or Red Zone District or Chad and Thad, or the dickheads at the office, or the scummy losers picking fights at  the bar -- you detract from others but you can’t build your own. Your toxic mindset isn’t built to handle the patience, the heart break, the trials and tribulations of climbing to the top of your profession AND STAYING THERE. Everyone I listed had the upper hand at one time or another but before they knew it, Travis and I came back up to their tail and lapped them before they could see it coming. Sweet Melody is likely cackling in their little hideout, feeling all fine and dandy about finessing those belts off of me and Trav. They’re convincing themselves they’ve put us in our proper place and they’ll never have to worry about lifting a finger on their thrones yet again. While they’re thinking the hardest part is over and resting their pretty little heads the Carolina boys have made their way back down to the lab and are LOCKED IN, READY TO GO BACK UP THAT LADDER WITH A VENGEANCE AND BOOT THEIR SORRY ASSES DOWN TO THE CANVAS!

(Teddy Mac reigns himself in, gathering his composure while keeping a strong expression to let it be known he still stands by what he said.)

Teddy Mac: I’m not a braggadocious guy. I hate to see myself as being conceited about my clout as if I’m anything like those rich elite who look out for themselves. All I am is a man with faith. A man with fact. I have had faith in myself countless times and the fact is any time I go with my gut on about my capabilities I have never been proven wrong. I’m saying that Travis and I are winning our tag belts back and I’m comfortable with laying that down because I know when that bell rings and shit hits the fan…..when it’s not about flexing status or all of this talk since Cero Miedo…..there will be no politics or cheating, it will be all about hunger. Pushing limits. Clocking in, rolling up your sleeves and keeping your nose to that grimestone. It will be time to get GRIMY! YOU’LL HAVE TO BLEED FOR YOURS. GET READY TO DIE FOR WHAT YOU BELIEVE IN. AND I KNOW! I KNOWWWWWWWWWW…..THAT YOU ARE NOT ABOUT THAT LIFE, SWEET MELODY! STORY OF YA LIVES: YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO HAUL YOURSELVES UP THAT LADDER FOR THOSE BELTS WHEN IT MATTERS MOST!

Tell me I’m wrong. Puff out your chests and make me regret making that declaration. I’m calling you out on your names. I’m calling my shot and ranking myself over you. Meet me on this ladder and do something about it. You won’t be able to. You didn’t have it in you as individuals, and you damn sure don’t have it in ya as a team. We’ve tested your mettle since that infamous night and all Travis and I found was the one hundred percent confirmation of there being nothing but “bitch” in your blood. You can’t match up to our working hands. You can’t hold up at our pace. You don’t have that intestinal fortitude like we do. Pull out any snippet of the past two Chapters. Pull out me booting Hana in the face and her going from down talking me to be readying to scurry out of the ring and call it a day. All of that bravado and the second you hold her to fire she curls up in a ball and looks to her ancient sister April for some help in getting her out of the jam. I can’t blame her though. You still have so much growing to do, Hana. You have the all black gear, the darker makeup and those pre-planned photoshoots with the risque poses to show off your new EVIIILLLL look but I’ve raised my daughters long enough to know how to look past the surface of these habits. Kids don’t mean what they say and do. Their personality goes in phases until eventually they take in enough experiences that they’ve formed an actual concrete identity. That is only obtained from weathering through DECADES. It took me until twenty, twenty nine to wake up, and you think you’ve got juice fresh out of gym class and lunch periods?

Don’t worry about the ladders that will be at ringside at Arcadia when you still haven’t found yourself, Hana. That’s your ladder to climb right now before you can have a successful career; get a formula down before you try to deal with all of these bigger problems you have. This run of yours won’t work out seeing as you are only presenting an image of what you think you need to “pop” in Wrestleworld. Eighteen year old boys play internet gangster, ladies your age do the same in their own way. The facade all falls apart when we’re talking about real life and whatever situation you put yourself in turns left: That’s when we see how you yourself are still a kid. When you fight me at Arcadia and those belts are hanging above your head I guarantee you are going to freeze up. You aren’t tough enough, Hana. You don’t have the strength to keep pulling yourself up that ladder when crunch time hits and everything is on the line. You don’t have the stripes of two battle tested men; you’re just a little girl. A scared little girl. A child who looks to others for assistance. And when you have to woman up and handle the pressure of the big time, grab that brass ring...you crumble. You fall back down and end up mangled below the same way you were with Rebecca Brookes. The same way you did countless times when you tried to fight on behalf of your dojo. The same way you did in World Domination. And what will you do? Cry about it and deflect the blame of your failure to everyone but yourself. Pacify your breakdown with more unproductive behavior. That’s the behavior of someone on a path to self destruction for many but to you we can just call it adolescence. When you fall off the ladder we’ll make sure you’re ok, get some ice for those scrapes, then send you back to your room to think about what you’re doing.

While you’re in your room, go ahead and look out the window at how you’ll end up in ten, fifteen years. Look at the model of self destructive behavior in your pre-teen minded elderly friend, April Song. A lady with years in the game, who took the same turn you did in life and who has nothing to show for it. Other than poorly aimed anger, of course. April has a knack for constantly fumbling the big one and ruining whatever good she does create for herself. It’s mind boggling honestly. She’s got a million dollars worth of talent and a ten cent brain. Slow and steady is what wins in the end but her hair trigger impulses make her incapable of keeping stable in her endeavors. She’s so quick to complain, so quick to bitch and moan. She burns bridges with people like it’s going out of style and why is that? She can’t stand to see anyone eat even if it’s on her own team. Stephanie Matsuda was cut from the same exact cloth as April Song, has a deep care for her craft and has been by her side since the start of Wrestleworld with no hesitation to go to war for her. April had an ace of a partner and she threw it away the minute she struck it out on her own. The minute she got attention as a solo competitor that went past hers. Stephanie forged her own route in contrast to April’s and turned out being far more prolific than she was so with the snap of the fingers she became an enemy. Stephanie isn’t doing something right, April isn’t doing something wrong -- Matsuda’s existence in the main event is clearly an attack on April and her far superior tactics.

Your whole brand can be embodied with the meme of Grandpa Simpson shaking his fist and yelling at a Cloud.

See what I did there?

You’re a woman with a chip on her shoulder who has come from an era where every single one of her peers have already reached that next destination while she has not. A lady who is getting up there in years and stuck in her ways who will pull out any excuse to back her poor career choices. A tired old bat who can’t get over herself enough to move out of her own way and actually get the job done. You’re a great wrestler and you have the tenure but that’s all hallow when you examine, April. That doesn’t mean shit. That doesn’t make you a champion. You lack the quality that Stephanie Matsuda has, that Aria Jaxon has, that the Michaels family has, that Llorona has, that Jonetta has, that Azumi Goto has, hell, even Miss German Efficiency had: the soul for this. I’m talking about PASSION. You have the stats, you have the match quality, but what is going on in your deep self? You don’t carry yourself like you truly want this. You have this expectation that if you hit this point and this point, this amount of years and that many matches competed in…..and you just GET the legacy you crave. As if wrestling is a vending machine where you mark down a certain input and out pops a world title. That’s not how it goes. It takes a certain kind of person to breakthrough as one of the best. A person who has the resiliency to handle rejection. Who when they hear what they’ve done is not enough….they dig through every fiber of their being to find MORE.

That’s not you, April. That’s not how you’ve ever responded when your plans go sour. When the climb gets too tough for your liking, when you’re tired and don’t feel like going any farther, you cross your arms and you stop dead in your tracks. You stay in that place and you stew over your position, getting angry at the lack of progress that you yourself have the power to change. Instead of buckling up, pushing yourself and preserving to get what you want you expect someone ELSE to shove you up top and get you to where you want to be. Then when all else fails…...you bring others down with you. I had a hunch a few months ago, and in this current day I can’t help but to think it was right. Hana is your new Stephanie Matsuda. Your next target to latch onto. The newest object of your resentment. I can predict what you’ll say. You’ll pretend like I’m insane and grasping for straws, but what I’m speaking on contains no lies. Our feud aside, I know that Hana can make something of herself. She’s got flickers in her that remind me of myself and Trav. It’s easy to recognize a fellow dreamer. She has limitless possibilities and a list of goals a mile long. She no doubt has the passion for this; she didn’t even get caught up in a nine to five like I did, she pursued this at driving age. Give Hana time to find out who she is as a competitor, to explore the wrestling world on her own and improve and she’ll be the next big thing in professional wrestling. She’ll be breaking records. She’ll be on the up and up.

She’ll be doing more well than you.

18 years old and already on a better track than the aging, regretful April Song. Hitting the same rung as her in half the time. That’s...that’s hard to swallow isn’t it? Let her hit 21 and she’d probably be having the Dreamworld moment you couldn’t get. Why let her have that when you can taint her mind and stall her out in the same place as you? Destroy her like you’ve destroyed yourself. That’s it….that’ll be your one last attempt at payback. The lifetime spoiler yanks one more of her peers down with her. Probably figured in a nutshell all you’ve got is one big career of “what if” and your final act of revenge can be to pass on your curse to a girl who has ten times the upside you could have ever wished for. Stop her from realizing what you deprived yourself of.

You’ll never find your way up that ladder, April. And if you have your way and Hana follows your lead, she’ll keep up your tradition and choke just the same; perpetually hovering in that space between final rung and the endgame. You can never boast of the come up that Stephanie or Claudia or Aria hangs their hat on…...all you’ll have was these two months out of a pair of twenty, thirty year careers in the long run. You’ve tasted victory, your fingertips have GRAZED the pinnacle of greatness….and that’s all you get. Now you slip, and as you fall you see Travis and I surge. At Arcadia you plummet to the ground and are forced to watch our ascent.

With Teddy Mac what you see is what you get. You see where I’m sitting right now? The top of the ladder. Where have I always put myself. Where I scratched and clawed to get sight of. What you will get to see again in a matter of days. Sweet Melody will find out that you can never remove Mac N Murphy from their peak. We come back up.

We were made for the climb. We were made BY the climb.

(Teddy Mac weaves his fingers together and leans in from his seat on the ladder, looking into the camera with unfazed grit and determination, riding out an impactful silence as our scene fades into a close.)