“I have spent my life on a seemingly endless treasure hunt.”
“My whole existence has been spent with a map in hand as I wandered through temples and across beaches looking for the priceless artifacts hidden within their grasps.”
“The truth is, exhuming those treasures is no easy task. Sometimes, when the map is unclear, all you can do is pull out a shovel and begin to dig.”
“Minutes turning to hours, hours to days as the sweat runs down your face and sand covers your boots.”
“But the moment you give up is the moment that the prize you so coveted escapes your grasp forever, left sitting beneath the soil for a more determined collector to lay claim to.”
“All it takes to obtain what you seek is the determination to keep going even when the tide comes in.”
“Even when the rain pelts your skin.”
“When it seems the whole world is against you.”
“All the stress? All the strife? Every second of suffering shall be rewarded when your shovel strikes the chest and the treasure enters your grasp.
“Lambs to the Slaughter is nothing more than another beach for me to sift through, the resting place for a priceless possession that I must obtain.”
“A chance at the world title.”
“I have walked this path before, a shovel in my hand as I dig hole after hole listening for the thunk of metal on wood that signifies my victory.”
“But in my attempt I did the unthinkable.”
“I gave up.”
“The shovel dropped from my palms and I collapsed in exhaustion as the tide came in and took me out to sea, leaving the treasure to be claimed by someone more determined than I.”
“A tide of OSW wrestlers flooded in at rapid speed, sloshing at my heels and threatening to yank me from the shore and pull me out to sea. No map could prepare me for the elements as I was pulled further from my goal.”
“Blows rained down upon me in a hailstorm, pelting me with bruises and welts as I tried my damndest to fight back.”
“I was left in an exhausted heap upon the ground, all the holes I dug for naught.”
“But this year?”
“This year I don’t need a map to find my treasure.”
“All I need is my shovel and time.”
“And with the stones in my hands? I have all the time I’ll ever need.”
“One by one I’ll dig my holes, slinging dirt over my shoulder as I lay waste to the beach.”
“From one to two to ten to twenty. A hole dug for every wrestler trying to stop me as I walk my path towards the treasure beneath the sand.”
“The tide of combatants won’t pull me into the depths.”
“And the raining fists will slip off of my hood.”
“Because I’m going to keep digging until I hear the thunk of my shovel on wood.”
“Until the artifact I covet is held tightly in my grasp.”
“I have walked this path before…”
“And this time I’m walking to its end.”