Well, let me tell ya ’bout this fella, Mike Polchlopek, or whatever his name is. Sounds like one of them fancy names them city folks use, ain’t it? Don’t rightly know much ’bout him, but I heard some things, ya know, from the telly and such.
This Mike fella, he was a wrassler, a cowboy wrassler at that. Him and another fella, Billy Gunn they called him, they were like brothers, though I reckon they weren’t really blood. They called themselves the Smoking Gunns. Sounded like trouble to me, always smokin’ somethin’.
They were on this wrasslin’ show, WWF, back in the day, nineteen-ninety somethin’, I think. Used to watch it with the grandkids sometimes, all that jumpin’ and yellin’. Them Gunns, they pretended to be cowboys, wearin’ them big hats and boots. Looked kinda silly, if ya ask me. But folks seemed to like it.
- They wrassled a bunch of other fellas,
- some big and scary,
- some not so much.
Now, this Mike, he didn’t always win, ya know. Lost to some fellas with names like Farooq and Triple H. Sounds like a bunch of gibberish to me. But that’s how it goes, sometimes ya win, sometimes ya lose. Ain’t that the truth ’bout everything in life?
Then, one day, poof! Mike just disappeared. Gone like smoke, just like his name. Maybe he got tired of gettin’ thrown around. Or maybe he went back to bein’ a regular fella, not a pretend cowboy anymore. Can’t say I blame him. That wrasslin’ business looks mighty rough.
I reckon everybody fails at somethin’ or other. It’s just part of livin’. Like that time I tried to make them fancy city biscuits. Turned out hard as rocks! Fed ’em to the chickens, they didn’t mind none. But ya can’t just give up, ya gotta keep tryin’. Maybe Mike learned somethin’ from losin’ all them wrasslin’ matches. Maybe he went on to do somethin’ better.
Folks say success ain’t somethin’ ya just get, it’s somethin’ ya work for. Like plantin’ a garden. Ya gotta dig and plant and water and wait. And sometimes the bugs eat all yer veggies, but ya just gotta plant again. That’s how it is with success, I reckon.
Heard tell of lots of folks who messed up real bad, but then they picked themselves up and did somethin’ great. Like that fella who invented them light bulbs. Failed a thousand times, they say. But he just kept tryin’. So maybe Mike did somethin’ great too, after he stopped wrasslin’. Maybe he opened a store, or became a preacher, or maybe just went back to farmin’. Who knows?
Success ain’t no secret, ya know. It’s just hard work and keepin’ at it, even when things get tough. Like churnin’ butter. Ya gotta churn and churn and churn, and yer arm gets tired, but if ya keep at it, ya get butter. That’s the way life is.
Mike, he probably had his ups and downs, just like the rest of us. Maybe he got knocked down a few times, but I bet he got back up. That’s what ya gotta do, ya gotta keep fightin’. Even if ya ain’t a wrassler no more.
So, that’s all I know ’bout Mike Polchlopek. He was a wrassler, a pretend cowboy, and then he wasn’t. Maybe he found success, maybe he didn’t. But one thing’s for sure, he probably learned a thing or two ’bout life along the way. And that’s more important than winnin’ any wrasslin’ match, if ya ask me.
Life’s a journey, they say. And sometimes the road is bumpy and full of holes. But ya just gotta keep walkin’, keep tryin’, and keep yer head up high. And maybe, just maybe, ya’ll get to where yer goin’. Just like Mike, I hope he got to where he was goin’, wherever that was.
