The first time I saw Tim Jackson, he was skating in some stupid best trick type of contest and I thought to myself "Holy shit, that dude looks exactly like Tyrone Olson!" He had a pretty tight fade going on and he was shirtless and sweaty, just like T-Bone.
I mean he looked just like Tyrone Olson in every way except for the fact that Timmy didn't look like he had to take a super gnarly dump while he was skating, and by that I mean that Tyrone Olson always looked like he was holding in a serious Patty Duke and was just too busy firing off crop duster 360 flips to stop and find a toilet. Seriously.
Anyway, that was a long time ago. I don't think of T-Bone anymore when I think of Tim Jackson.
I think of TIMMAAAYYYY!
See, this dude is fucking gangster.
I remember being seriously hyped when Tim got on APB, he threw together a super sick video part really fast and Chad and Darin put it at the end of the lower case video to welcome him to the team.
The first team profile I wrote for Tim had him hosting a cable access fishing show.
I don't know how I came up with this one, it started off so small and then just spiraled out of control.
I like the ending.
Tim Jackson:
The other major players in town hated Timmy, and with good reason. He had been on top of the game for years, and nobody could seem to find a way to take him out. It definitely wasn't for lack of trying, though. One would be hard-pressed to count the number of times he had been challenged by hungry up-and-comers. Numerous new jacks had decided to test him despite his stellar credentials and nefarious reputation, but each time a new adversary quickly rose up on the scene, he was violently cut down just as fast.
Soon, people outside the usually tight-knit and close lipped Hawaii circuit began to notice. Big fish. Real G's. Bangers with heavy reps from across the ocean. They came from L.A., Frisco, Seattle, Denver, Chicago, Memphis, Miami, Atlanta, Philly, D.C., Boston, and New York City. Each one was more hardcore than the last, but Timmy dispatched them with the quickness. His methods of disposal were as aesthetically pleasing as they were psychologically diabolical.
More and more as time passed and the enemies piled up, the government began to get wind of Timmy's exploits and soon set up surveillance on him and his entire Manoa-based operation. It was through this intricate surveillance, which included extremely hi-tech miniature video cameras and extensive audio wiretaps, that the authorities built a case file on Timmy that was rumored to be thicker than the Honolulu white pages. For six months they kept an extremely close eye on him, but it was only when Tim took out the top guy from Houston on a windy Thursday night in April that they decided it was time to serve him with the papers.
The two agents came up Manoa Road and pulled their car directly in front of Tim and Jeremy's place for a second, but remembered as per their surveillance that the old man who was the landlord hated outside vehicles on his property, so they reluctantly parked the Crown Vic around the corner. Mere minutes later, the smell of May's teriyaki hamburger patties and Mickey's malt liquor permeated the air as the federales cautiously walked down the grassy path to the rear entrance. Reilly was the first to look up and notice the two older guys in suits. "Shit! Five-O, Five-O!!" he blurted out. Timmy quickly looked up from the grill, and the spatula audibly fell from his hand.
"Relax, boys. We're not the police." the dark haired one with the nerdy glasses spoke first. "You two look like a couple of goddamn feds to me..." Jeremy slurred as he squinted through glazed eyes, he was already three forties deep and it was only 8:30. The other one with the shiny tie and expensive looking shoes shot a smug glance in Jeremy's direction and chuckled to himself for a moment before he answered. "Bingo. Give that man a Swisher Sweet." He switched his attention over to Timmy, who was slowly inching away from the grill towards the door. "Hey, Timmy. Do yourself a favor. Freeze. Don't you move another fucking inch..." he said in a raspy voice that was barely above a whisper. Timmy heard the man, but his mind was racing and his options were dwindling quick.
"What's this all about?" Timmy inquired. "Awww, don't be coy. You know exactly why we're here, Jackson..." the one with the glasses replied as he moved considerably closer. His partner carefully reached into his coat pocket, his eyes still trained directly on Timmy, who was now noticeably sweating. "Easy, Tim. Take it nice and easy... I've got something for you here." His voice crackled with a slight hint of uneasiness. He pulled out a white envelope, and held it up in plain sight. He extended the envelope towards Timmy with his right hand and stood there waiting for him to accept it. Tim was worried, no question about it. He had avoided the authorities for a long time, but in the back of his mind, he knew that this would come someday.
Tim took a deep breath and grabbed the envelope. He glanced over at Sean. He knew there was a possibility that he might never see his floor dwelling houseguest again. He looked at Jeremy, his roommate and confidant, but the Germ was in no condition to even stand anymore, let alone keep his eyes open. He tore into the paper and unfolded the official looking sheet with the government seal on it contained within. He scanned the paper and had to read it to himself three times in order to fully comprehend the magnitude of its message. A single, glistening tear appeared in his left eye and trickled down his face with the consistency of molasses. "I...I...can't believe it. I..I..don't know what to say". Tim's voice was barely audible as he choked on the words.
"What? What the fuck does it say? Timmy! Talk to me, man!" Reilly interjected. Tim couldn't speak now,he was visibly moved and overcome with emotion. "What the fuck, dude??" Sean couldn't wait any longer and snatched the paper from Timmy's trembling hand. He read it word for word and soon wore the same expression on his face that Tim had. He had to read it out loud to completely grasp the reality of the situation, and he carefully sounded out the contents of the document. "Timothy Jackson, you are hereby served notice that the United States Olympic Committee has selected you as a member of the United States national handball team and you are now declared officially eligible for competition in the 2008 Summer Olympic games which are to be held in Beijing, China. Congratulations, Tim, and welcome to the team." Sean, stunned, looked over at Timmy. "Holy shit!" Reilly exclaimed. "They have handball in the Olympics?"
TO BE CONTINUED...
