Chapter 2: Set A Standard For Yourself

There are cities all over the world that speak to certain people. It’s the architecture, diversity, culture, educational institutions, history, and the list will go on. Black Sheep Baez’s love affair with Las Vegas is symbolic, and emotional. Sin City is where he finally reached the big time in January of 2023.

That is when the Baez family legacy shifted. Alex went on to win his first match with the SHOOT Project in Las Vegas. He did it on network broadcasting and in front of thousands of viewers. Black Sheep Baez can now say that he won his first match with both of the big time promotions in Las Vegas. No other Baez can say that.

It’s the perfect situation for any athlete. The story continues to unfold in Alex Baez’s favor. There’s not many in this world that can say they’ve been successful in both juggernaut promotions; let alone win their first match in the same city where it all began. He even signed his PRIME contract one year to the day of his last match with the SHOOT Project. He didn’t plan that.

He considers this God’s will. This is what the supreme being has planned for him. He is supposed to be here, and whatever happens next is simply the natural order of things.

What happened next was a celebration. Alex knew to leave the T-Mobile arena and continue training. PRIME is no slouch, and someone as green as Black Sheep Baez should take time to sharpen the blade. Priorities are still something that Al’s working on, and he’s not particularly a scholar of time management. Black Sheep Baez lived in the moment. He danced all night, confidently marketed himself to a large sum of women, spread positivity all over Sin City, and was so zooted that he missed his flight to Long Beach.

Alex awoke from his nightlife induced hibernation. He didn’t look at his phone. He didn’t care what time it was, what time of the day it was, or that there’s a tear in his favorite pair of Versace underwear. He ignored the person that slept next to him in his bed as she pulled the comforter so that more of it draped over her naked body. The hotel room was in disarray enough to realize that the cast of characters present before sleep was more than two people.

Alex yawned, stretched, and surveyed the room through hazy bloodshot eyes. He could hear the stock sound of a cash register cha-chinging while he took note of everything he’ll pay for due to damage and neglect. He sighed and looked out the picture window. Las Vegas was bursting with life. The Saturday streets were thick with crowds that looked like foraging ants from high above. He rubbed his eyes to focus on the neon signs, fountains, and palm trees.

There’s nothing he can do to fix the situation. What's done is done. He was so over-stimulated from the excitement and magnetism of abundance and excess. He’s well aware of his problem. There's a proverb in carpentry that a good carpenter knows how to hide mistakes. That can be applied to anything.

Baez needed to be in Long Beach for a very important interview at 8 pm. The next flight wouldn't land in Long Beach until 8:20 pm. A bus would take too long. It's a five hour drive to Long Beach. The only problem is that Alex’s Maserati is parked in his garage; in Buffalo.

There was a last resort, but it was evident by his expression that he was skeptical of pulling the trigger. He took a deep breath and slowly lowered his index finger toward his cell phone. He’s going to call his cousin Antonio. He was grinding his teeth as the tip of his finger hovered a centimeter from the screen. There's no other logical option, and he executes the call.

Antonio Gomez is the son of Uncle Diego and Aunt Salena. Diego is Alex’s mother’s brother. Antonio is the only one that lives near Vegas. He's a few years older than Al, and the two are polar opposites.

“And what might I owe the pleasure of the great Black Sheep Baez ringin’ me on this lovely Saturday afternoon?” His southern drawl is unusual, but there's a reason for it. Antonio is a cowboy, and professional bull rider.

“If ya boi gave you three hunnit and two tickets to see Shania Twain at Planet Hollywood then you think you can drive me to Long Beach?” Not a hello, no how you doin’, nor howdy. Alex doesn't beat around the bush with Antonio.

“What in tarnation is in Long Beach?” Antonio asks.

“Finna be interviewed at 8 and can't miss it. Already missed my flight. Shit got a bit lit last night, for real. Kinda woke up a few hours late. Whatchu’thinkin cuz? You doin’ me this solid?” He then acts like a parent bribing their child. “Ya boi gots them Shania VIP’s.” He dangles the carrot.

“I can be there in 15 minutes. You'll need to get a wiggle on. If we ain't skidaddlin’ asap then that dog won't hunt,” Antonio replies.

“Say less,” Al responds. He's about to hang up when it hits him. “Wait a min, fam. How you know where I is?”

“Ain't no other place in Vegas good enough for Alex Baez,” Antonio says. “Meet me outside the Palms in fifteen.”

“Bet,” Alex says with half a smirk. He ends the call and deeply exhales while closing his eyes. There's a few seconds of solace, but there's not much time to prepare for Antonio’s arrival.

The amount of time it took for Black Sheep Baez to gather his belongings could go down in a record book. He politely escorted the beautiful young lady from his room. Alex had a small Louis Vuitton bag in tow and he made sure she was dressed appropriately. She wore the brand new Black Sheep Baez Mets logo t-shirt over her sultry ruched body-con dress. They exited the Palms together. She smiled after logging her number into his cell phone.

“I’ll holler atcha,” he told her with a wink. She wiggled her eyebrows and then blew him a kiss. He looked down at his phone because he couldn't remember her name. “Audrey,” he whispered. He watched her black hair flow with the breeze as she strutted away into the raucous Vegas crowd.

Alex was early, albeit already late, but the fact that he could stand there 10 minutes after his conversation with Antonio was an impressive feat. He slid a pair of Brunello Cucinelli gold plated sunglasses over his eyes and began to observe the crowds.

Friends laughed as they walked past, impersonators on a mission weaved their way through waves of tourists, and vehicles honked their horns. A young lady popped out of a limousine like a jack-in-the-box and pointed a finger directly at Alex while shouting his infamous pseudonym in her best drunken warble. He shook his head and smirked.

“Yoo-hoo!” The feminine shout came from three cars behind the limousine. Al’s attention peaked and he turned to see a tomato red Chevy HHR with bull horns as a hood ornament. Hanging out of the driver side window was Antonio. He’s waving a snakeskin cowboy hat.

Antonio knows that Alex wants nothing to do with him, so he takes advantage of any interaction by being absurd in his own special way. It's a toxic relationship.

“Over here you sexy Boricua!” Antonio screams. “Bring that caramel ass over here and MOUNT UP!” He smacks his hand on the driver side door and uses it as a drum. “Shake it on over, don’t be shy,” he finishes while pressing the cucaracha car horn as icing on the cake.

Grief flushed over Alex’s face. He took a deep breath and then hustled over to the hillbilly hotrod. Antonio increased the volume so that the music was louder the closer Alex got to the vehicle. Al snarled as he passed the driver’s window while a smiling Antonio shoulder shimmied to the Shania Twain hit ‘Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under’.

The tailgate was open so that Alex could toss his bag inside and hurry to the passenger’s seat. The tailgate closed and a bumper sticker on the back window promoted Antonio’s passion: My other ride is a Brahman. Their journey to Long Beach was underway.

They finally departed Las Vegas. Al’s temples throbbed while he held a finger under his nose due to the slight pungent aroma from crusty cow manure that flaked off Antonio’s Durango’s. He tried to ignore his cousin’s antics.

Antonio’s smile is eternal and he lip synched along with Shania Twain’s ‘That Don’t Impress Me Much’. If late actor Miguel Ferrer had a doppleganger, with a thick black mustache, then that would be Antonio. There was a wide scar above Antonio’s right eye, and another just below the chin, from an accident involving a mule kick. He has a gold tooth, his left canine, and a brown pea sized mole below his right ear.

Alex is aware that one shouldn’t judge others based on their image. It wasn’t Antonio’s look that irritated Alex. Antonio has a tendency to be an outspoken supporter of the U.S. Republican Party. The Baez family attempts to alleviate politics from their daily lives. They have more socialist ideologies. Politics do not normally create a wedge in the Baez family, but it does in regards to Antonio. Alex is the black sheep of the Baez wrestling family. Antonio is the legitimate black sheep of the family.

“So, what’s it like bein’ a superstar?” Antonio breaks the ice and dials down the volume. Alex raises an eyebrow.

“Superstar? Ya boi barely scratched the surface. Ain't nowhere near that status fam, fo’real,” Alex looks back at his phone and sighs.

“Well, aren’t you just the tumbleweed driftin’ sourpuss,” Antonio responds. “I’d cut off my right mountain oyster to have a moment in the PBRA. I think you’re mistaken,” Antonio leans back and nods. “Everyone in PRIME is a superstar.”

Black Sheep didn’t respond. Antonio was right. PRIME is a who’s who of professional wrestling. Alex wanted something to plug his ears to completely ignore his cousin. Another mistake was leaving his air pods in Buffalo. Alex knows that this will be over in four hours. He’ll have to convey impressive control. That’s a concept of the human condition that Alex struggles with.

The trip continued on highway 15. They went through Primm, the former State Line, and crossed into California. They were on their way to Barstow. A message popped up to notify Alex that his phone will need to be charged. He grimaced and then laid his phone in a cup holder on the center console. He pulled the recline lever. Rest is a smart option after a night of over indulgence.

Alex went into a deep sleep. The good REM sleep where dreams and nightmares feel more like reality. The journey began with scenes from his life. The images became longer and lucid. Then an explosion of white light took it in a different direction.

The face of a woman faded into view. Her beauty was majestic. She had stunning bone structure, and dazzling diamond eyes that immediately embraced Alex. Her skin tone changed like a chameleon to present that she is all in one. Her smile nearly brought Alex to his knees.

“Hello, Alex,” she said. Her voice echoed off the vast white nothingness.

“You…you’re…” Alex’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

“Atabey,” she responded with a nod.

Atabey is the Supreme Being in Taino mythology and worshiped by Puerto Ricans. She is the Goddess of fertility, and she is Mother Nature. Atabey created the heavens. She also birthed two sons, Yúcahu and Guacar, to assist her in the creation of everything else. Yúcahu became the masculine version of Atabey and is known for opening a rift in the heavens that introduced Luoco, or the first human.

“Word? Yo, mi abuela talks about you all the time, fam,” Alex said with excitement.

“Si, she speaks with me often,” said Atabey.

“That’s dope as Hell. Why you up in my dream?” Alex asked.

“For divine intervention,” she responded.

“That’s the name of my setup move, homie,” Black Sheep smacks his chest.

“You can consider this the setup for the rest of your life,” she said. “Tell me about your next battle.”

“I got Crash Jackson, why?”

“Tell me about him,” she said.

“I don’t know shit about the guy, not gonna lie. Seems like a solid dude. Pretty good wrestler. Been around the world and shit. He’s got a pretty unique personality. Enjoys a solid hot dog. I mean, other than that? Whatchu tryna prove here, Atty?” His question is reciprocated with a question of her own.

“Do you understand what Crash Jackson means to you, and your future?”

“Nah, ‘cause if I did then I’d be standin’ where you is.”

“Do you see him as someone you can easily defeat?”

“Naw, I wouldn’t say that. He pretty damn good. I gots respect for everyone in PRIME. They all here ‘cause they the best of the best. Why? You think I’m full of it’?”

“No, but you’re not ready for Crash Jackson. You will underestimate him, and you will find that he’s far more of a challenge than you imagined. You do, in fact, think you are better than him. You disrespect him in your thoughts.”

Alex is dumbfounded. He looks around the white void as if to focus on something, but there's nothing. He looks at Atabey with concern.

“For real?” His question is met with her smile.

“Yes. You don’t know him, but yet you look down on him. You are ignorant,” she got his attention.

“Whoa, yo, say less…” he said angrily, but she continued before he could debate her judgment.

“Alejandro, Crash Jackson stands between you and how you will be defined in PRIME. I know, and that’s because I’ve already seen what is to come. I cannot spare those details, but I will tell you that the outcome of your battle with Mr. Jackson will prove to be very fruitful. I will tell you that he is considering this match against you to be a high priority. He’s wasting no time in conditioning his potential victory. You, on the other hand, are wasting time.”

“His victory?” He looked down and was worried. “You sayin’ Imma lose to dude?”

“No. He is practicing to win, Alex. You, on the other hand, have spent the last 24 hours participating in mindless self-indulgence. Time is on your side. Use it wisely. You must set a standard for yourself. No more libido infused gratification at the expense of your success. Every level of PRIME will be a test of your mental faculties, and physical well-being. The challenges will be harder. The opponents will be stronger.”

“I’ll take that as you sayin’ imma have a bright future with PRIME, fam,” Alex’s Cheshire grin was full of confidence.

“A future, yes,” her response eliminated his grin.

“Damn, why you gotta play me like that?”

“Control yourself, Alejandro. Control your urges. You will have many chances to celebrate, but choose the right time. I will tell you that there will be a time. You will correctly choose the moment. It will come after many wins, and many losses. I understand that my vagueness is a hard pill to swallow, but bear in mind that this is your calling. You are meant to be where you are. It is what we, as Gods, have written for you in the stars. Trust me.”

“Kinda like trusting the process, yeah?” Alex replied.

“Precisely. Now, go and form your wisdom. Learn from this battle. Process it with your mind’s eye. Crash Jackson awaits your contest. Atabey, on the other hand, will find a home where you will need her the most. Right…here,” her finger poked the center of his forehead. Alex was suddenly blinded with a flash of bright white light. Her visage disappeared, but he can hear her glorious voice.

“Set a standard for yourself,” her voice echoed from the great beyond.

Alex woke up and flew forward. His forehead smacked against the glove box. The vehicle jerked and sent him back into a reclined position.

“Yo, what the fuck?” He shouted at Antonio.

“Sorry about that, cuz,” Antonio replied while quickly spinning the steering wheel to the right. “Had to stop on a dime. Almost missed the exit to Long Beach.”

“Shit, I didn’t think I’d sleep that long,” Alex looked around and noticed the change in scenery.

“So, I’m gonna assume that Crash Jackson is on your mind?” Antonio smiled and peaked over at his cousin.

“Was I…?”

“Yessir,” Antonio replied. He hinted at Alex talking in his sleep.

“Man, dunno what the Hell ya boi smoked last night but I just had a divine experience and it slapped so hard,” Alex looked out the window. His smile was reassuring. There’s hope in Atabey’s discourse. It’s already been mentioned that Alex perceives his story as God’s will. What happened in his dream state had strengthened that perception.

“Whoa now! Like, you saw God?” Antonio’s curiosity peaked.

“She is fine as Hell, too,” Alex said.

“Well smack me across the biscuit and call me your huckleberry! She? God's a woman?” Antonio’s curiosity peaked even further.

“You gotta be a better Puerto Rican, cuz, for real-for real. But, to answer your question: yes. Crash Jackson is on my mind. Ya boi gotta knock this upcoming interview outta the park and then get to work. He finna come out the gate lookin’ for that statement victory. I know he bringin’ that smoke, yo. That’s gotta be me though, for real. Fuck, Antonio, I gots work to do,” Alex pulled the seat back to its upright position.

“Well, it looks like we’re about 15 minutes early. How’bout that?” Antonio is proud of himself and lifts his chin in victory.

“Appreciate you,” Alex responded. “Aye, lemme hit you with a question quick.”

“Sure thing, go’fer it,” Antonio said.

“You ever thought about changin’ the way you do things?” Alex asked. The tone in his voice was polite in execution. He isn’t looking to be rude, or cause an argument. Antonio was initially stumped, but he answered accordingly.

“Well, no sir. I’m set in my ways. I believe what I believe and I do what I do with a purpose. I’m proud of who I am. I know that I’m different and that people gotta way of thinkin’ wrong about me, but it don’t stop me from lookin’ the bull dead in the eyes,” Antonio’s smile was the epitome of confidence.

Alex looked at his cousin through a different lens. He respected Antonio’s pride and realized that his cousin had set standards. They don’t share the same beliefs, or have a lot in common. Pride was enough glue to keep it together. Pride is the foundation of any standard. Alex thought about his own pride and questioned the reality of his proudness. It all went back to the simple phrase of being a different Black Sheep Baez. He needed to be proud of what he’s become and accept the changes that must be made to be greater. That’ll be the first step in preparing for his match against Crash Jackson. Atabey was right. Alex is not ready, but he has time on his side.

They reached their destination. Antonio parked the Chevy and kept it running. Alex smiled at his cousin and reached for a handshake.

“Respect,” Baez said, and they slapped their hands together. Antonio pinched the brim of his hat and tugged on it.

Alex grabbed his phone and exited the vehicle. The tailgate opened. He grabbed his bag and removed three hundred dollars. He met Antonio at the driver’s side window to hand him his payment.

“I’ll holler atcha, appreciate’chu,” Alex said.

“Right on,” Antonio grabs the money and places it in the center console. “Now, how’bout them there Shania Twain tickets, partner?”

“Shit,” Alex stared at his phone’s black screen. “Ya boi will have’ta transfer thems when the phone’s charged, feel me?”

“I’ll be expectin’em,” Antonio responded and once again tugged on the brim of his cowboy hat. “Kick some ass and giddy up!” He revved the engine, hit the cucaracha horn for a final time, and then drove away.

Alex watched Antonio drive off into the sunset. He turned on his phone to look at the time. He was early for the interview. Time was on his side. His next step was to prepare for a challenging match against a very worthy opponent. He understood that the match would prepare him for the rest of his career, and he was proud of it.