Post by Mike Machado on Feb 27, 2010 21:36:44 GMT -6
Jason Blair: Here we are, Mike. Downtown Memphis, Tennessee. It is convenient that Mr. Fox would pick this city for Crossroads. Here you will see first hand what hunger can do.
Jason is joined by Mike Machado, leaning on their Honda Accord, parked on the side of a very busy, and very poor, city street.
”Mediocre” Mike Machado: This isn't quite what I envisioned the home of Crossroads to look like.. It's a little..
Jason Blair It's Poor, Mike. It's obviously poor.
Machado glances around nervously. The two men are obviously out of their element. Shady citizens of the city stare at them unabashedly.
MM: Jason, why did you bring me here? I don't feel very safe.. We do have to make it to the arena in order for me to compete in this match..
JB: Do you know why you don't feel safe, Mike? It's because these people are hungry. These people were not gifted with cushy lives. They weren't given anything, and they're hungry for more.
MM: Isn't that a 50 cent album?
JB: No. And that isn't the point. The point is that when you go into that arena, when you step into that ring on Sunday and the lights are shining, the fans are cheering, and your opponents are preparing to pound you.. you need to be hungry. You need to want this more than you have ever wanted anything.
MM: I am hungry, Jason.. so lets go grab some dinner.. somewhere a little more.. safe.
Jason shakes his head and clicks the remote lock on the keys of the accord. The lights flash and a “beep” is heard echoing throughout the streets.
JB: Stop making bad jokes, this isn't a joking matter. You need to be hungry. One of your opponents is extremely hungry. Jason Evans will beat you, badly, if you think for one second that losing is an option.
The sound of the car has attracted plenty of attention from some of the locals. One large man walks up to the car and adjusts his orange University of Tennessee fitted cap with one hand. His other hand reaches into his jeans, blatantly suggesting the possession of a gun.
Man: Nice ride you fellas' got here. Mind if I take it for a test drive?
MM: Jason, it's time to go... you've proved your point.
Machado pulls on the handle of the door, desperately, to no avail. He gives a panicked look to Blair, hoping his mentor has a way out of this.
JB: Sure thing, boss.
Machado's jaw drops as Jason tosses the keys into the air toward the armed man.
MM: What...?
As the man reaches up for the keys Jason strikes, quick as lightning, with a kick to the gut. The man doubles over, and before he can straighten up Blair pulls the gun from the mans jeans and pistol whips him, knocking him out cold.
MM: What the hell man!? What are you, Steven Segal? Let's get the **** out of here, now!
Blair calmly drops the gun next to the unconscious man and picks the keys up off his chest. He hits the remote again and the door unlocks. Machado is instantly in the vehicle, strapped into his seat belt, and ready to go. Blair slowly makes his way to the drivers side and does the same, and the vehicle pulls off slowly.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
”Mediocre” Mike Machado: In less than 24 hours, in this very arena: I will decide my own fate.
Machado sits on a steel chair in the middle of a generic, undecorated locker room. It could very well be an old janitorial closet.
MM: Seven other men will join me in the ring, opening up the biggest night of wrestling the nCw has seen in at least a month. Seven other men will go into the night hopeful that they will be the last one standing at the end of this match. It would seem I find myself in a familiar position.. the underdog. I'll be the only one going into Sunday without a single win. I'll be going into a match with some legendary names, Brad Kane, Jack Hammond, Freakke.. These 3 names could strike fear in the hearts of the most dangerous and established competitors the nCw has to offer.
But it's not these men I fear the most. ..Jason Evans.. I see that “look” on your face. The look that only great athletes get. The look that lets everyone else know to get the hell out of the way. And why not? You're on an incredible roll here in the nCw. Undefeated, beating a man that I failed to put away last week. Your future is looking as bright as anyone's. I know that when it comes down to it, you consider yourself much closer to Angel then to me. Who am I to you?
Mike shakes his head, removing a stray lock of hair from his serious, but still hilarious, face.
MM: ]But we're not so different, you and I. We both have our doubts about our own abilities. You wonder if you can hang with the legends, and I wonder if I can hang with even you. I wonder if I even have what it takes to be considered a contender for that X-Division title that you covet oh-so much. I mean, I couldn't even put away Jack Wilde last week.. and you did that handily not so long ago.
We both have dreams. ..Similar dreams at that. We both dream of being recognized by our peers, by the employees, and the staff. You dream of the X-Division title and a match with Andrew Jacobsen, I'm sure we both secretly have fantastic dreams of one day reaching the top of this federation, looking down at all our doubters.
You have AJ Pheonix coaching you. A proven nCw superstar. A former X-Division Champion himself, earning his way through hard work, just like you plan to. A man that fell short of the ultimate goal, which you plan to avenge, in your own sort of way. ..I have Jason Blair, a man that I look up to, and I know to be a great mentor, and an even better wrestler. A man that fell short in his dream to be a world champion due to an unfortunate injury. A man that I plan to avenge. A man that I plan to make proud, and complete, in my own sort of way.
Machado stands up, the camera moving with him. He walks toward it until his intense face takes up almost the entire frame.
MM: It is our differences that define us, Mr. Evans. You're physically intimidating. In great condition. When you're in public, and seen at a bar, you are instantly recognized as a professional wrestler, I'm sure. At 5'11” and 215 you are close enough to be called a human blueprint for stomping a mudhole in the ass of a man like me. I'm, well.. mediocre.. physically. Slightly below average height, fit, but not impressively so. When I walk into a house to do a home install of Comcast High speed internet, m customers wouldn't consider me athletic, or imposing. They think nothing of my size, and go about their day, unimpressed.
You were born with wrestling talent. You worked hard, to be sure, but you were born with some measure of natural skill. Your physical strength and technique are enough to vouch for that. Me? I don't have a knack for this. This isn't something that I have an aptitude for. This probably isn't what I was born to do. But it is what I will do, Jason Evans.
You are well on your path in this federation. You are already recognized as the next big thing. The “promising” rookie. The talented youth.. the “future”. Me? I'm just a joke here, right? I don't even know how to wrestle. I'm learning as I go.. hoping to play it by ear.. leaning on my work ethic, my desire.. to lead me. So far, I haven't been what Jason Blair wants me to be. I haven't been a spitting image of him.. I haven't been flawless, I won't ever be undefeated. ..But I can be victorious. I can go into our match tomorrow, and gut it out, give it my all, and be there at the end. I can catch you, being cocky and self assured, unawares. I can roll you up and hold you for the three-count, and my hand can be raised in this arena.
MMM relaxes for a second and turns his head to the side, choosing his next words carefully.
MM: Win, lose, or draw.. tomorrow at Crossroads you will see someone that will not give up. Someone that will not be just another passer-by in this great federation. Tomorrow you will see me, and 7 other men, and you will remember my performance. Tomorrow night, you will see effort personified. Brad Kane, Jack Hammond, Freakke, Jack Wilde, Sexy Jason, Sebastian Slone, and Jason Evans.. I hope you're all ready to unleash hell. 'Cause that is what it will take to put me down.
Enough talk. Let's do this.
Fade out on the mustache.
Jason is joined by Mike Machado, leaning on their Honda Accord, parked on the side of a very busy, and very poor, city street.
”Mediocre” Mike Machado: This isn't quite what I envisioned the home of Crossroads to look like.. It's a little..
Jason Blair It's Poor, Mike. It's obviously poor.
Machado glances around nervously. The two men are obviously out of their element. Shady citizens of the city stare at them unabashedly.
MM: Jason, why did you bring me here? I don't feel very safe.. We do have to make it to the arena in order for me to compete in this match..
JB: Do you know why you don't feel safe, Mike? It's because these people are hungry. These people were not gifted with cushy lives. They weren't given anything, and they're hungry for more.
MM: Isn't that a 50 cent album?
JB: No. And that isn't the point. The point is that when you go into that arena, when you step into that ring on Sunday and the lights are shining, the fans are cheering, and your opponents are preparing to pound you.. you need to be hungry. You need to want this more than you have ever wanted anything.
MM: I am hungry, Jason.. so lets go grab some dinner.. somewhere a little more.. safe.
Jason shakes his head and clicks the remote lock on the keys of the accord. The lights flash and a “beep” is heard echoing throughout the streets.
JB: Stop making bad jokes, this isn't a joking matter. You need to be hungry. One of your opponents is extremely hungry. Jason Evans will beat you, badly, if you think for one second that losing is an option.
The sound of the car has attracted plenty of attention from some of the locals. One large man walks up to the car and adjusts his orange University of Tennessee fitted cap with one hand. His other hand reaches into his jeans, blatantly suggesting the possession of a gun.
Man: Nice ride you fellas' got here. Mind if I take it for a test drive?
MM: Jason, it's time to go... you've proved your point.
Machado pulls on the handle of the door, desperately, to no avail. He gives a panicked look to Blair, hoping his mentor has a way out of this.
JB: Sure thing, boss.
Machado's jaw drops as Jason tosses the keys into the air toward the armed man.
MM: What...?
As the man reaches up for the keys Jason strikes, quick as lightning, with a kick to the gut. The man doubles over, and before he can straighten up Blair pulls the gun from the mans jeans and pistol whips him, knocking him out cold.
MM: What the hell man!? What are you, Steven Segal? Let's get the **** out of here, now!
Blair calmly drops the gun next to the unconscious man and picks the keys up off his chest. He hits the remote again and the door unlocks. Machado is instantly in the vehicle, strapped into his seat belt, and ready to go. Blair slowly makes his way to the drivers side and does the same, and the vehicle pulls off slowly.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
”Mediocre” Mike Machado: In less than 24 hours, in this very arena: I will decide my own fate.
Machado sits on a steel chair in the middle of a generic, undecorated locker room. It could very well be an old janitorial closet.
MM: Seven other men will join me in the ring, opening up the biggest night of wrestling the nCw has seen in at least a month. Seven other men will go into the night hopeful that they will be the last one standing at the end of this match. It would seem I find myself in a familiar position.. the underdog. I'll be the only one going into Sunday without a single win. I'll be going into a match with some legendary names, Brad Kane, Jack Hammond, Freakke.. These 3 names could strike fear in the hearts of the most dangerous and established competitors the nCw has to offer.
But it's not these men I fear the most. ..Jason Evans.. I see that “look” on your face. The look that only great athletes get. The look that lets everyone else know to get the hell out of the way. And why not? You're on an incredible roll here in the nCw. Undefeated, beating a man that I failed to put away last week. Your future is looking as bright as anyone's. I know that when it comes down to it, you consider yourself much closer to Angel then to me. Who am I to you?
Mike shakes his head, removing a stray lock of hair from his serious, but still hilarious, face.
MM: ]But we're not so different, you and I. We both have our doubts about our own abilities. You wonder if you can hang with the legends, and I wonder if I can hang with even you. I wonder if I even have what it takes to be considered a contender for that X-Division title that you covet oh-so much. I mean, I couldn't even put away Jack Wilde last week.. and you did that handily not so long ago.
We both have dreams. ..Similar dreams at that. We both dream of being recognized by our peers, by the employees, and the staff. You dream of the X-Division title and a match with Andrew Jacobsen, I'm sure we both secretly have fantastic dreams of one day reaching the top of this federation, looking down at all our doubters.
You have AJ Pheonix coaching you. A proven nCw superstar. A former X-Division Champion himself, earning his way through hard work, just like you plan to. A man that fell short of the ultimate goal, which you plan to avenge, in your own sort of way. ..I have Jason Blair, a man that I look up to, and I know to be a great mentor, and an even better wrestler. A man that fell short in his dream to be a world champion due to an unfortunate injury. A man that I plan to avenge. A man that I plan to make proud, and complete, in my own sort of way.
Machado stands up, the camera moving with him. He walks toward it until his intense face takes up almost the entire frame.
MM: It is our differences that define us, Mr. Evans. You're physically intimidating. In great condition. When you're in public, and seen at a bar, you are instantly recognized as a professional wrestler, I'm sure. At 5'11” and 215 you are close enough to be called a human blueprint for stomping a mudhole in the ass of a man like me. I'm, well.. mediocre.. physically. Slightly below average height, fit, but not impressively so. When I walk into a house to do a home install of Comcast High speed internet, m customers wouldn't consider me athletic, or imposing. They think nothing of my size, and go about their day, unimpressed.
You were born with wrestling talent. You worked hard, to be sure, but you were born with some measure of natural skill. Your physical strength and technique are enough to vouch for that. Me? I don't have a knack for this. This isn't something that I have an aptitude for. This probably isn't what I was born to do. But it is what I will do, Jason Evans.
You are well on your path in this federation. You are already recognized as the next big thing. The “promising” rookie. The talented youth.. the “future”. Me? I'm just a joke here, right? I don't even know how to wrestle. I'm learning as I go.. hoping to play it by ear.. leaning on my work ethic, my desire.. to lead me. So far, I haven't been what Jason Blair wants me to be. I haven't been a spitting image of him.. I haven't been flawless, I won't ever be undefeated. ..But I can be victorious. I can go into our match tomorrow, and gut it out, give it my all, and be there at the end. I can catch you, being cocky and self assured, unawares. I can roll you up and hold you for the three-count, and my hand can be raised in this arena.
MMM relaxes for a second and turns his head to the side, choosing his next words carefully.
MM: Win, lose, or draw.. tomorrow at Crossroads you will see someone that will not give up. Someone that will not be just another passer-by in this great federation. Tomorrow you will see me, and 7 other men, and you will remember my performance. Tomorrow night, you will see effort personified. Brad Kane, Jack Hammond, Freakke, Jack Wilde, Sexy Jason, Sebastian Slone, and Jason Evans.. I hope you're all ready to unleash hell. 'Cause that is what it will take to put me down.
Enough talk. Let's do this.
Fade out on the mustache.