Post by tirri on May 22, 2022 10:26:12 GMT -5
The origin of YEET (offcam)
I had boarded a plane headed for New York, to have a meeting with “Chronic” Chris Page. The agent slash manager of, amongst others, Peter Vaughn who beat me at DOOM, and my friend Kat Jones. A choice that had caused Matt Knox to start grumbling and Pops giving me one of his “managers are useless”-speeches.
I had shrugged both off and told them I wanted to do my own thing. And Page seemed like the kind of guy who could teach me even more, help my career grow and flourish. Learning from veterans and champions. Well, non-retired veterans and champions who aren’t too full of their own greatness to actually notice the new guy. But as I sat on the plane, nervous about the meeting that was about to happen, I thought back to the early days of my stay in the US. When I had come over to find Pops, working as a personal trainer in the gym. And an event that almost got me fired, but at the same time according to Ryan and a few others exemplified my personality rather well.
So when the plane broke the cloud cover and stabilized to level flight… I leant back and re-lived that even.
It was the summer of 2021. It was hot as fuck and the gym was filled with people working out due the excellent air conditioning the boss had invested on. But a full house came with it’s own issues. Limited amount of equipment meant that people had to wait for their turn which raised tensions. And the personal trainers and our clients had first pick when it came to them. I was working with a client on bench presses when I heard a raised voice, glancing over to see a bodybuilder-type ranting to Michelle, one of my co-workers who was having a session with her client on the squats. My client noticed it as well, shooting a questioning look my way. “Let’s take a 10 minute cooldown break. Go stretch your legs, we’ll do some leg presses after that.”
The client nodded and stood up as I started to put away the weights, keeping an eye on the situation across the room. I couldn’t hear that well, but the body language of both Michelle, her client and the bodybuilder was plain as day. As I finished putting away the gear, I saw Michelle glancing in my direction and nodded as our eyes met. So I made my way to them, cracking my neck as I did. “Excuse me sir, is there an issue?” always the polite one, I positioned myself in a way where I could just step in between them if the situation escalated.
The bodybuilder turned to look at me, and I could see in his face that he had started to whip himself up to a furor. I also noticed the bulging veins, the lack of natural proportions and the slight acne on his shoulders. I groaned inward. Great, a roid head. “Issue? This lanky bitch is hogging the station here.” The bodybuilder motioned towards Michelles client. “And this OTHER bitch has the nerve to tell me to wait. Like, don’t you know who the fuck I am?”
I could feel a wave of anger flash through me at his disrespect. But I kept a cool head. Customer service and all that jazz. “Sir, there is no need to be so vulgar. My colleague here is giving her client a private training session she paid for. I can assure you that by waiting for your turn, you will get to the station sooner than later.” My voice was stoic, but I guess Michelle saw something in my face as she took a step back.
The bodybuilder looked at me like I just let out the smelliest fart in history. “Boy, do I look like I have time to wait? I’m Dillon fucking Smith. The best body this side of mississippi. I’ve been winning contest when you were still shitting in diapers.” He had this absolutely infuriating smug look in his face. What he failed to realize was that I was a good 3 inches taller than him and despite not being as sculpted as he was, I was built like a brick house. So I wasn’t too intimidated.
But I still preferred to solve this without escalating the situation. “Sir, in this gym we treat all customers equally. The miss there paid for a session, and she is entitled to get what she paid for in full. I suggest that you take a step back and calm down.” I motioned towards the cool-down area at the back of the gym. “Sit down, relax and enjoy the refreshments free of charge until the station frees up.”
Dillon Fucking Smith looked incredulous. It was like nobody had refused his demands before. The look quickly turned into what I could only call anger and he poked me in the chest. “Now, Boy. I’m gonna spell this out for you. Remove that skank from the station and then fuck off outta my sight or you’re gonna regret the day you decided to pick up a dumbbell for the first time.” I could see his eyes reddening.
To myself I thought “great… roid rage…” but on the outside I maintained a neutral expression. “Sir, I am going to let that slide. You will not get to the station until they are finished, that a simple fact you will have to learn to accept.” at this point, everyone in the gym had turned to look at the altercation and I started to feel nervous. Not just by so many eyes on me, but by the potential fight that might break out.
“Don’t you fucking tell me what I can and can’t do boy!” Smith roared at my face and poked at me again. “This shithole gym will never see a star of my level ever again. If you were smart, boy, you’d drop to your knees and kiss the ground I walk on for gracing this place with my presence.”
“Final warning Mr. Smith. Touch me or anyone else one more time and I will have to escort you out of the premises and ban you from entering in the future.” I grinded my teeth a bit, it was taking all of my self-control not to unleash on him. But I kept remembering Mum’s words. “Never sink to their level. Be the bigger man, take the high road.” So I tried. I tried so hard.
“You? Escort me out? Boy, you should hit the stand-up scene with jokes like that. I ain’t leaving and you cannot make me.” He responded with a laugh, putting his hand on my shoulder and trying to push me.
“That’s it.” I snapped at him and started to push back, shoving him in the chest and grabbing his arm when he was off-balance, starting to drag him towards the door. He quickly recovered from the surprise and started to struggle, apparently as surprised about my strength as I was of his lack of it. He tried to yank himself free, but failing that, he suddenly threw a giant haymaker my way. I just barely managed to dodge it and with a surge of adrenaline and almost instinctively grabbed him by the collar and just threw him forward as hard as I could.
Glass shattering was the next sound I heard, as I realized that he had flown right through the big window at the front of the gym, landing on the sidewalk outside. I moved up to him, taking care to stay inside the establishment. “Sir, You are no longer welcome to this gym. You tried to assault an employee and resist getting removed. Our lawyers will be in touch with yours.”
He just sat there, opening and closing his mouth like a fish on dry land as I walked back in, cursing the fact I needed to call the boss and tell him to get the window looked at. As I got to Michelle, I saw the patrons of the gym cheering and giving me thumbs ups. Thank god they weren’t applauding. “Hey Michelle, you can now finish the session in peace. I got mine to work through as well. Keep up the good work!”
I patted Michelle on the back and turned around, stopping as she quipped. “That was a helluva YEET Donny. 5/5”
I turned and gave her an awkward smile. YEET. I looked it up when I got back home and well, you can guess how I felt about that particular term.
Just as I finished reminiscing I heard the pilot announcing we were landing in New York shortly. With a smile on my face I relaxed and waited for the flight to end.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Back to the Drawing boards (oncam)[/u]
We open up to show Donny Mason sitting in front of a desk, with a large piece of paper in front of him. He seems a bit muted, his bodylanguage and demeanor slightly slumped. He is staring at the piece of paper in front of him with a pen in his hand.
“Ya know. “Back to the drawing board” is a saying I’ve heard a lot. And I don’t really get it. The roots of the saying are probably somewhere that it makes sense but… honestly? I don’t get it. But I’ll try.”
He leans back and stretches, the “YEETWEAR”-shirt he is wearing going taut against his torso. The hours in the gym showing themselves rather obviously.
“DOOM was close. But close doesn’t count. I did my best but Vaughn triumphed. I hold no ill will against him. Atleast not yet. But if he does a Ziggy and blows the titleshot he won under my nose, I’ll be very peeved. Then again, that just establishes the pecking order in LevelUp. Duncan is a well deserving champion and despite his success elsewhere, Vaughn is still an unknown commodity in LevelUp. So I am looking forward to seeing what he can do against the beloved Commander. Because I was given yet another chance to leapfrog myself to the top. A chance is better than no chance.The Skeleton Key match. A match that Pops fought in last year. Getting oh-so-close. Bested by two of the finest Levelup has to offer. Tact and Shepard. So that is where my aim is. Get into the match, and be a force in it.”
He doodles something on the paper, his brow furrowing with focus.
“But to qualify, I gotta beat 3 men who can match me in my biggest upside. Strength. I won’t be able to YEET my way willy nilly through THIS match. Brody Adams, who I should be mad at for retiring Pops by beating us for the Multiplayer Gauntlets but I’m not, because it allowed me to try and stand on my own two feet. ISAAC, who I really don’t like for the simple fact of being Tact’s goon. And Lord Raab. A monster. Well, fortunately for me, I got pretty good at dealing with monsters thanks to being dragged into Knox’ wars. So yeah. Big meaty men slapping meat. A true hossfight at EXP. And me? I’m the outside. The dark horse. Coming in with an awful losing record, having my biggest strength nullified and being the least experienced of the bunch. You’d take one look at me and go “welp, he ain’t gonna accomplish jack shit”. And know what? I relish in that.”
Donny lets out a small chuckle and doodles something on the paper again. He then reaches for what looks like a milkshake and takes a long sip from it.
“See, being the underdog means I got no pressure on me. Sure, Pops ran that approach to the ground by always being the underdog. But his words had a point. Sure, you might think that I got half the New York Zoo on my back after all these losses, but honestly? I don’t. Because I can’t exactly sink lower now can I? Only direction is up, and thus I’m working on a pressure free situation. You gotta remember, I’m not even 9 months into my career. A rookie is expected to lose a lot. Only the very brightest ones hit the ground running and immerse themselves in gold and glory. I’ve had that elsewhere. Not here. That just shows that Levelup stands on a level of its on, no pun intended. So any win, any success here is twice the wins of elsewhere. And thats why I am not worried about my record. Because in a field this tight and competitive, even the truly great ones have faltered. I look around me at the people I call friends. Bert got his neck fucked up. Ahmya got beat by Buster just recently. Kat has been unable to make a dent in EAB. Knox has lost his match here. Even the bloody freaks that Knox warred with across the globe were barely a thing in Levelup. So losing is no big deal. But wins? Any win I can get? Now that means something.”
The young Englishman stands up and walks over to the nearby fridge, grabbing a can of beer from it and looks at it. He then shakes his head and puts it back in, instead reaching into the freezer and grabbing an icepack, slapping it on his shoulder as he sits down.
“So at EXP25 I got nothing to lose and everything to gain. With a big Pay-Per-View match at stake and a foot in the door for a Final Boss shot. Just like at DOOM. A big match with big stakes. I’m ready. Brody, ISAAC, Raab… Don’t dare to take me lightly. Don’t dare to overlook me. I am just salivating at the prospect of any of the three of you taking one look at me and going “eh, no need to worry about him” because I am going to take advantage of any arrogance. Any slip in focus. Any signs of complacency and strike you down. I might not be the undisputed strongest guy in the match… But I am still the YEETmaster. I am still the big bad brit. I am still a powerhouse. And I WILL knock you down given half a chance. And that is all I need. Half a chance. If you are smart? You won’t give it to me. If you are smart, you will put me down first thing. If you are smart… You will never, ever turn your back on me. I’m here to stay folks. And even if it means getting my ass beat for months and months and months…I will eventually find my rhythm. I will eventually find my stride. And then sky’s the limit. And who knows? It just might be at EXP25. Brawlers, Monsters, Brutes and then there is Donny Mason. Underdog, not in the contention. I like those odds.”
He reaches for a pen and draws a few lines on the paper before walking off towards the door to the backyard.
“Time to get to work”
That is the last thing he quips before exiting the house, the camera then panning over to show what he had been doodling. And it is what you’d expect. A drawing of a key with a skull on it, in the hand of a crudely drawn figure that judging by the word “YEET” on his chest is Donny, with three figures vertical on his feet. And then there is text on the bottom.
Opportunity + YEET times 3 equals success!
I had boarded a plane headed for New York, to have a meeting with “Chronic” Chris Page. The agent slash manager of, amongst others, Peter Vaughn who beat me at DOOM, and my friend Kat Jones. A choice that had caused Matt Knox to start grumbling and Pops giving me one of his “managers are useless”-speeches.
I had shrugged both off and told them I wanted to do my own thing. And Page seemed like the kind of guy who could teach me even more, help my career grow and flourish. Learning from veterans and champions. Well, non-retired veterans and champions who aren’t too full of their own greatness to actually notice the new guy. But as I sat on the plane, nervous about the meeting that was about to happen, I thought back to the early days of my stay in the US. When I had come over to find Pops, working as a personal trainer in the gym. And an event that almost got me fired, but at the same time according to Ryan and a few others exemplified my personality rather well.
So when the plane broke the cloud cover and stabilized to level flight… I leant back and re-lived that even.
It was the summer of 2021. It was hot as fuck and the gym was filled with people working out due the excellent air conditioning the boss had invested on. But a full house came with it’s own issues. Limited amount of equipment meant that people had to wait for their turn which raised tensions. And the personal trainers and our clients had first pick when it came to them. I was working with a client on bench presses when I heard a raised voice, glancing over to see a bodybuilder-type ranting to Michelle, one of my co-workers who was having a session with her client on the squats. My client noticed it as well, shooting a questioning look my way. “Let’s take a 10 minute cooldown break. Go stretch your legs, we’ll do some leg presses after that.”
The client nodded and stood up as I started to put away the weights, keeping an eye on the situation across the room. I couldn’t hear that well, but the body language of both Michelle, her client and the bodybuilder was plain as day. As I finished putting away the gear, I saw Michelle glancing in my direction and nodded as our eyes met. So I made my way to them, cracking my neck as I did. “Excuse me sir, is there an issue?” always the polite one, I positioned myself in a way where I could just step in between them if the situation escalated.
The bodybuilder turned to look at me, and I could see in his face that he had started to whip himself up to a furor. I also noticed the bulging veins, the lack of natural proportions and the slight acne on his shoulders. I groaned inward. Great, a roid head. “Issue? This lanky bitch is hogging the station here.” The bodybuilder motioned towards Michelles client. “And this OTHER bitch has the nerve to tell me to wait. Like, don’t you know who the fuck I am?”
I could feel a wave of anger flash through me at his disrespect. But I kept a cool head. Customer service and all that jazz. “Sir, there is no need to be so vulgar. My colleague here is giving her client a private training session she paid for. I can assure you that by waiting for your turn, you will get to the station sooner than later.” My voice was stoic, but I guess Michelle saw something in my face as she took a step back.
The bodybuilder looked at me like I just let out the smelliest fart in history. “Boy, do I look like I have time to wait? I’m Dillon fucking Smith. The best body this side of mississippi. I’ve been winning contest when you were still shitting in diapers.” He had this absolutely infuriating smug look in his face. What he failed to realize was that I was a good 3 inches taller than him and despite not being as sculpted as he was, I was built like a brick house. So I wasn’t too intimidated.
But I still preferred to solve this without escalating the situation. “Sir, in this gym we treat all customers equally. The miss there paid for a session, and she is entitled to get what she paid for in full. I suggest that you take a step back and calm down.” I motioned towards the cool-down area at the back of the gym. “Sit down, relax and enjoy the refreshments free of charge until the station frees up.”
Dillon Fucking Smith looked incredulous. It was like nobody had refused his demands before. The look quickly turned into what I could only call anger and he poked me in the chest. “Now, Boy. I’m gonna spell this out for you. Remove that skank from the station and then fuck off outta my sight or you’re gonna regret the day you decided to pick up a dumbbell for the first time.” I could see his eyes reddening.
To myself I thought “great… roid rage…” but on the outside I maintained a neutral expression. “Sir, I am going to let that slide. You will not get to the station until they are finished, that a simple fact you will have to learn to accept.” at this point, everyone in the gym had turned to look at the altercation and I started to feel nervous. Not just by so many eyes on me, but by the potential fight that might break out.
“Don’t you fucking tell me what I can and can’t do boy!” Smith roared at my face and poked at me again. “This shithole gym will never see a star of my level ever again. If you were smart, boy, you’d drop to your knees and kiss the ground I walk on for gracing this place with my presence.”
“Final warning Mr. Smith. Touch me or anyone else one more time and I will have to escort you out of the premises and ban you from entering in the future.” I grinded my teeth a bit, it was taking all of my self-control not to unleash on him. But I kept remembering Mum’s words. “Never sink to their level. Be the bigger man, take the high road.” So I tried. I tried so hard.
“You? Escort me out? Boy, you should hit the stand-up scene with jokes like that. I ain’t leaving and you cannot make me.” He responded with a laugh, putting his hand on my shoulder and trying to push me.
“That’s it.” I snapped at him and started to push back, shoving him in the chest and grabbing his arm when he was off-balance, starting to drag him towards the door. He quickly recovered from the surprise and started to struggle, apparently as surprised about my strength as I was of his lack of it. He tried to yank himself free, but failing that, he suddenly threw a giant haymaker my way. I just barely managed to dodge it and with a surge of adrenaline and almost instinctively grabbed him by the collar and just threw him forward as hard as I could.
Glass shattering was the next sound I heard, as I realized that he had flown right through the big window at the front of the gym, landing on the sidewalk outside. I moved up to him, taking care to stay inside the establishment. “Sir, You are no longer welcome to this gym. You tried to assault an employee and resist getting removed. Our lawyers will be in touch with yours.”
He just sat there, opening and closing his mouth like a fish on dry land as I walked back in, cursing the fact I needed to call the boss and tell him to get the window looked at. As I got to Michelle, I saw the patrons of the gym cheering and giving me thumbs ups. Thank god they weren’t applauding. “Hey Michelle, you can now finish the session in peace. I got mine to work through as well. Keep up the good work!”
I patted Michelle on the back and turned around, stopping as she quipped. “That was a helluva YEET Donny. 5/5”
I turned and gave her an awkward smile. YEET. I looked it up when I got back home and well, you can guess how I felt about that particular term.
Just as I finished reminiscing I heard the pilot announcing we were landing in New York shortly. With a smile on my face I relaxed and waited for the flight to end.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Back to the Drawing boards (oncam)[/u]
We open up to show Donny Mason sitting in front of a desk, with a large piece of paper in front of him. He seems a bit muted, his bodylanguage and demeanor slightly slumped. He is staring at the piece of paper in front of him with a pen in his hand.
“Ya know. “Back to the drawing board” is a saying I’ve heard a lot. And I don’t really get it. The roots of the saying are probably somewhere that it makes sense but… honestly? I don’t get it. But I’ll try.”
He leans back and stretches, the “YEETWEAR”-shirt he is wearing going taut against his torso. The hours in the gym showing themselves rather obviously.
“DOOM was close. But close doesn’t count. I did my best but Vaughn triumphed. I hold no ill will against him. Atleast not yet. But if he does a Ziggy and blows the titleshot he won under my nose, I’ll be very peeved. Then again, that just establishes the pecking order in LevelUp. Duncan is a well deserving champion and despite his success elsewhere, Vaughn is still an unknown commodity in LevelUp. So I am looking forward to seeing what he can do against the beloved Commander. Because I was given yet another chance to leapfrog myself to the top. A chance is better than no chance.The Skeleton Key match. A match that Pops fought in last year. Getting oh-so-close. Bested by two of the finest Levelup has to offer. Tact and Shepard. So that is where my aim is. Get into the match, and be a force in it.”
He doodles something on the paper, his brow furrowing with focus.
“But to qualify, I gotta beat 3 men who can match me in my biggest upside. Strength. I won’t be able to YEET my way willy nilly through THIS match. Brody Adams, who I should be mad at for retiring Pops by beating us for the Multiplayer Gauntlets but I’m not, because it allowed me to try and stand on my own two feet. ISAAC, who I really don’t like for the simple fact of being Tact’s goon. And Lord Raab. A monster. Well, fortunately for me, I got pretty good at dealing with monsters thanks to being dragged into Knox’ wars. So yeah. Big meaty men slapping meat. A true hossfight at EXP. And me? I’m the outside. The dark horse. Coming in with an awful losing record, having my biggest strength nullified and being the least experienced of the bunch. You’d take one look at me and go “welp, he ain’t gonna accomplish jack shit”. And know what? I relish in that.”
Donny lets out a small chuckle and doodles something on the paper again. He then reaches for what looks like a milkshake and takes a long sip from it.
“See, being the underdog means I got no pressure on me. Sure, Pops ran that approach to the ground by always being the underdog. But his words had a point. Sure, you might think that I got half the New York Zoo on my back after all these losses, but honestly? I don’t. Because I can’t exactly sink lower now can I? Only direction is up, and thus I’m working on a pressure free situation. You gotta remember, I’m not even 9 months into my career. A rookie is expected to lose a lot. Only the very brightest ones hit the ground running and immerse themselves in gold and glory. I’ve had that elsewhere. Not here. That just shows that Levelup stands on a level of its on, no pun intended. So any win, any success here is twice the wins of elsewhere. And thats why I am not worried about my record. Because in a field this tight and competitive, even the truly great ones have faltered. I look around me at the people I call friends. Bert got his neck fucked up. Ahmya got beat by Buster just recently. Kat has been unable to make a dent in EAB. Knox has lost his match here. Even the bloody freaks that Knox warred with across the globe were barely a thing in Levelup. So losing is no big deal. But wins? Any win I can get? Now that means something.”
The young Englishman stands up and walks over to the nearby fridge, grabbing a can of beer from it and looks at it. He then shakes his head and puts it back in, instead reaching into the freezer and grabbing an icepack, slapping it on his shoulder as he sits down.
“So at EXP25 I got nothing to lose and everything to gain. With a big Pay-Per-View match at stake and a foot in the door for a Final Boss shot. Just like at DOOM. A big match with big stakes. I’m ready. Brody, ISAAC, Raab… Don’t dare to take me lightly. Don’t dare to overlook me. I am just salivating at the prospect of any of the three of you taking one look at me and going “eh, no need to worry about him” because I am going to take advantage of any arrogance. Any slip in focus. Any signs of complacency and strike you down. I might not be the undisputed strongest guy in the match… But I am still the YEETmaster. I am still the big bad brit. I am still a powerhouse. And I WILL knock you down given half a chance. And that is all I need. Half a chance. If you are smart? You won’t give it to me. If you are smart, you will put me down first thing. If you are smart… You will never, ever turn your back on me. I’m here to stay folks. And even if it means getting my ass beat for months and months and months…I will eventually find my rhythm. I will eventually find my stride. And then sky’s the limit. And who knows? It just might be at EXP25. Brawlers, Monsters, Brutes and then there is Donny Mason. Underdog, not in the contention. I like those odds.”
He reaches for a pen and draws a few lines on the paper before walking off towards the door to the backyard.
“Time to get to work”
That is the last thing he quips before exiting the house, the camera then panning over to show what he had been doodling. And it is what you’d expect. A drawing of a key with a skull on it, in the hand of a crudely drawn figure that judging by the word “YEET” on his chest is Donny, with three figures vertical on his feet. And then there is text on the bottom.
Opportunity + YEET times 3 equals success!
