Post by obsessed on Aug 2, 2010 11:38:52 GMT -5
Takedown returns from a commercial break, and it returns with Jon Pryor still in the ring. But he's not holding a microphone, stirring into a rant against Dan Ripley after the losing streak that he's on.
"Buzz, Ripley seems to have followed through in his promises of forcing Jon Pryor out of the XWA."
The mood was somber. Medical staff huddled around Jon Pryor, as he lay on his back, eyes wide shut.
"I think that punt to the head from Ripley was an exclamation point from the locker room not wantin' him around. At all."
Even Buzz couldn't bring himself to tearing down the fallen public enemy number one of the XWA. Indeed, Jon had been punted straight in the temple by Dan Ripley. A move that left his ears ringing, his head pulsing, his vision blurred, blackening, then brightening. Blood had begun to stream from his nose, among the various places that the buckles of Ripley's boot had torn through the skin, allowing the slight dribble to form small pools on the canvas. The crowd had fallen silent, for it was Jon Pryor who a year ago carried a local promotion on his shoulders out of Chicago, before that promotion fell dead due to the economic turmoil facing this company. They respected him here. If it were to be New York, the XWA, and even LXW's home base... it probably would be a different story.
"It looks like they're trying to get the neckbrace on him, but Pryor is finally moving. He seems to be resisting it..."
Despite the EMT's best efforts, Pryor slowly rolls out of the ring, dropping to his knees. Dizzily, he begins his trek up the ramp, trying to shove off any help he was receiving.
"Buzz, Ripley seems to have followed through in his promises of forcing Jon Pryor out of the XWA."
The mood was somber. Medical staff huddled around Jon Pryor, as he lay on his back, eyes wide shut.
"I think that punt to the head from Ripley was an exclamation point from the locker room not wantin' him around. At all."
Even Buzz couldn't bring himself to tearing down the fallen public enemy number one of the XWA. Indeed, Jon had been punted straight in the temple by Dan Ripley. A move that left his ears ringing, his head pulsing, his vision blurred, blackening, then brightening. Blood had begun to stream from his nose, among the various places that the buckles of Ripley's boot had torn through the skin, allowing the slight dribble to form small pools on the canvas. The crowd had fallen silent, for it was Jon Pryor who a year ago carried a local promotion on his shoulders out of Chicago, before that promotion fell dead due to the economic turmoil facing this company. They respected him here. If it were to be New York, the XWA, and even LXW's home base... it probably would be a different story.
"It looks like they're trying to get the neckbrace on him, but Pryor is finally moving. He seems to be resisting it..."
Despite the EMT's best efforts, Pryor slowly rolls out of the ring, dropping to his knees. Dizzily, he begins his trek up the ramp, trying to shove off any help he was receiving.