Post by Xander Famularo on May 21, 2011 21:21:54 GMT -6
When my father was tied up in the ropes, dangling from his neck and I stood and watched I did that not for my career, because if you take the old time machine back to the time period you will know that I had no career then, I wasn’t an active wrestler and I received no sort of boost from that event. I did that for revenge that I thought I deserved, I did that to get back at my father for screaming at the mother the night that she drove of and was broadsided by a drunk driver.
So I ask you one thing, and I haven’t requested much from you in the time that I have known you please don’t claim my own coming of age was due to me trying to advance my career, there are certain things I would ask people to stay away from, and when I went after my father it was because of wrongs I felt needed correcting, wrongs that I feel are now justified.
Don’t forget that he choked me out when he was the original Harold.
To say I haven’t earned anything here Rob, that is a farce and an inaccuracy. What epic feuds have I won? None, and there is a very specific reason why. I don’t need month after month after month to annihilate a person. I need one match to send them packing, I need one day to break someone completely Rob. To say I haven’t earned my way to this shows just how far you are reaching to find something bad to say about me.
I would rather you talk about how small my penis is, or how when I was a kid I was a little obese. My father’s name didn’t earn me a Coliseum qualifying match beating the holy hell out of Joe Everyman did. I have defeated some of the greats of this place, and it hasn’t taken me months to do so. Former world champions have crumbled under my hand and I have been on the winning end of matches against hall of famers so to say that I haven’t earned something because I haven’t wasted months fighting one opponent in a series of matches shows just shows how jaded your view of wrestling has become.
To me it isn’t about the stories and drama anymore, I tried that and I didn’t like it. I like competition, I like being driven, and I like being pushed to the very limits. I don’t spend my time talking in circles like you.
I believe in you Xander, you can’t beat me Xander.
You can beat anyone Xander, you haven’t done anything.
Every thing you say directly contradicts what came before it in your previous breath. I am no villain Rob, I was a villain, and I was a bad person and did bad things. Sure I wore a mask to get over, and you never had anything to do with a mask right?
Lord Dominicus…
Or wait, that isn’t you, that is someone else in a land far, far away. I don’t carry the trophy of once wearing the Harold moniker I carry the burden, one that I can carry because of my immense, gigantously powerful shoulders.
The same shoulder I will use to smash you into tomorrow with.
{Xander is in the basement at Gib’s. He runs steadily on a treadmill, not wavering. His breathing is even and his stride is straight. He looks down at his feet covering a distance, working together for a common purpose, working together not to see who is better but to ultimately meet one single goal.}
{A gruff voice calls from the top of the stairs}
Gib: You ready douchebag? The taxi is here. We have to get to the airport.
Xander: I am ready…
{Those three words mean little in the context, but taken out of the context that they lie in you know that he speaks not about his flight, not about his future but about this match, he is ready. He is trained, he has prepared and he is ready to make this moment complete}
{He steps off the treadmill and the week long look of anger, resentment and self doubt are gone, replaces with a smug look of contentment, the look that a person has when they know things are no longer in their hands, when they know that they have to allow fate to finally intercede. And fate has quite a job this weekend. The grizzled warrior versus the rising youngster.}
{As he wipes the sweat from his face with a towel we see a smirk cross his face. He is ready… And you will see a battle.}
I must admit Rob, that in your attempt to find something original to say this week that you really did something original. This is the first time my cultural background has been attacked, so I figure a response is necessary. Calling me a goomba, it only bothers me because you said it, because you don’t know that that term isn’t a word used for a cretin or a loser but it is a term of endearment in my community. Calling someone a goomba isn’t like calling them a guinea, a dego, a wop or a greaseball.
I am a goomba… See, I don’t take that as a personal insult, because if you truly knew what a goomba was you would know that it is one of the most endearing words that Italian Americans use to describe one another, maybe someday down the road, we can eat some pasta have some wine and you can learn what it is to be a goomba. See the goomba is a loving man, the one thing a goomba understands more then anything else is love and if you know any Italian-Americans you would understand that.
Using the words goomba in a negative context though? Why not just call a black man the “n” word or a gay person the “f” word. Everything about a goomba is full of love; a goomba loves his family, his friends, his ladies and even his food. He cares a great deal about his clothes and his car and people like you, non goomba’s will never understand that. You will never understand the amount of love and passion we have for each and every thing we have in life.
What is a goomba? A guy whose name ends in a vowel, he works for a living he’s loyal, stubborn and patriotic. He probably drives a Lincoln or a Cadillac and listens to Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin. And he cares about his family and friends above all Rob.
Rob has it come to this? Has it come to racial slurs? Is that what you are using to drive yourself to hate me? Because I don’t hate you, I am not looking to kill you, or beat you because honestly I am sick of people using the word kill in their musings because really you aren’t going to kill me, you aren’t going to maim me and you aren’t going to hurt me beyond what normally happens when two dudes go at it.
My focus is clearly on you, my focus is clearly on offering you the best match I can, one that will be remembered and win, lose or draw I will come out of this match looking better then I did when I went in and I can do that without snarling, without threatening your life and without falling into some stereotypical gimmick that ends in a catchphrase. I won’t force hatred and emotion where there isn’t any because honestly Rob, we are both talented and I know you think I don’t deserve to be here, or maybe you do I can’t really tell.
But I am coming to wrestle you. Not to kill you, not to maim you, not to eat your soul because this is a job, this is a passion. Sometimes I look at the things we say in preparation for a match and chuckle because can you believe a bunch of dudes in the office wearing their suits saying…
“Brother my stock portfolio is better then yours, now I am going to bang your wife and molest your mother”
No… It would be silly…
Don’t be silly. Let’s just be wrestlers, let’s just do what we do. Let’s entertain the masses with our athleticism.
And for god’s sake, stop trying to use racial epithets because I know deep down Rob that you love me… And that you want to be with me, and since you can’t because I don’t swing that way then you have to settle for the next best thing, my half sister.
{Scene opens to the arena where the PPV is going to take place, Xander stands in the center of the ring in the empty arena looking around. The arena looks massive in the empty state, ready to absorb thousands of people in it. Gib walks into the scene, he wears a big shiny sheriff’s badge on a black vest with a pair of jeans}
Gib: One year ago, I stood on this stage against Will Washington and Angel. One year ago I retired here, knowing that my days in active competition are over. It took me to the age of 49 years old to get to this match, and here you are… 23 years old and you have made it to the biggest match in wrestling.
Xander: I know dad, I have played it cool, but I won’t lie. Just standing here in this arena, knowing that this is the biggest event in the year and knowing that people bought tickets to see this match makes the butterflies fly in ways I have never felt.
Gib: That is a good thing. Overconfidence is one thing you don’t want here boy, that is the edge I think you have against Robby boy, he doesn’t see any way that he walks out of this match without the title. You have a chance son, you could do this. You can become the best at your age and then, the sky is the limit. You need to stay focused and get the job done.
Xander: Yeah… I am ready. I am totally ready. This is going to be a night to remember…
Gib: I can’t wait to come out to the ring to celebrate with you man, I can’t wait to lift you into the air and have that confetti falling on us man. This is the big time… And you have made it.
Xander: I have made it.
{Gib slaps his hand on Xander’s shoulder and the scene fades}
I won’t fall into the game Rob, no matter how hard you push or prod me. I won’t make reference to your jaded sense of history or your belief that everything in the world is the way it is because you have made it that way. You sound a lot like Kim Jong Il to be honest. But I am not making this a match where I want to kill you, or maim you. What you call fluttering between making you mad and praising you I call what alcoholics refer to as a moment of clarity.
In the midst of trying to create a story for this match I honestly had a moment where I said…
**** It…
I don’t need to stoop to the stupid mind games, I don’t need to play this off as a match where I want to kill my opponent leaving them maimed and bloody and brutalized. I just want to have a wrestling match. Is that so hard? Is it hard for you to participate in this sport you claim to love so much just by wrestling?
No… You don’t love this sport, you love yourself man. You love the self promotion, you love stepping on people, you love walking on them and you know what, say what you want, talk all the **** you want…
And I am still coming. I am still coming to wrestle you, not to kill you, not you rape your family or to thrust my man meat into your mouth. I won’t make petty and unintelligible threats about killing you or crippling you because I tried that gimmick and you know what. I hated myself every minute of myself, whoring myself out for popularity. Is that what you have become Rob? A common whore sucking cock for a quick trick?
I refuse to believe it… I will strike your words from my mind this weekend, I will let the competitor in me take over. And I will rise…
Tomorrow night is going to be a night to remember for both of us. I have nothing to lose Rob…
And it is about time you see how seriously dangerous that makes me.
So I ask you one thing, and I haven’t requested much from you in the time that I have known you please don’t claim my own coming of age was due to me trying to advance my career, there are certain things I would ask people to stay away from, and when I went after my father it was because of wrongs I felt needed correcting, wrongs that I feel are now justified.
Don’t forget that he choked me out when he was the original Harold.
To say I haven’t earned anything here Rob, that is a farce and an inaccuracy. What epic feuds have I won? None, and there is a very specific reason why. I don’t need month after month after month to annihilate a person. I need one match to send them packing, I need one day to break someone completely Rob. To say I haven’t earned my way to this shows just how far you are reaching to find something bad to say about me.
I would rather you talk about how small my penis is, or how when I was a kid I was a little obese. My father’s name didn’t earn me a Coliseum qualifying match beating the holy hell out of Joe Everyman did. I have defeated some of the greats of this place, and it hasn’t taken me months to do so. Former world champions have crumbled under my hand and I have been on the winning end of matches against hall of famers so to say that I haven’t earned something because I haven’t wasted months fighting one opponent in a series of matches shows just shows how jaded your view of wrestling has become.
To me it isn’t about the stories and drama anymore, I tried that and I didn’t like it. I like competition, I like being driven, and I like being pushed to the very limits. I don’t spend my time talking in circles like you.
I believe in you Xander, you can’t beat me Xander.
You can beat anyone Xander, you haven’t done anything.
Every thing you say directly contradicts what came before it in your previous breath. I am no villain Rob, I was a villain, and I was a bad person and did bad things. Sure I wore a mask to get over, and you never had anything to do with a mask right?
Lord Dominicus…
Or wait, that isn’t you, that is someone else in a land far, far away. I don’t carry the trophy of once wearing the Harold moniker I carry the burden, one that I can carry because of my immense, gigantously powerful shoulders.
The same shoulder I will use to smash you into tomorrow with.
{Xander is in the basement at Gib’s. He runs steadily on a treadmill, not wavering. His breathing is even and his stride is straight. He looks down at his feet covering a distance, working together for a common purpose, working together not to see who is better but to ultimately meet one single goal.}
{A gruff voice calls from the top of the stairs}
Gib: You ready douchebag? The taxi is here. We have to get to the airport.
Xander: I am ready…
{Those three words mean little in the context, but taken out of the context that they lie in you know that he speaks not about his flight, not about his future but about this match, he is ready. He is trained, he has prepared and he is ready to make this moment complete}
{He steps off the treadmill and the week long look of anger, resentment and self doubt are gone, replaces with a smug look of contentment, the look that a person has when they know things are no longer in their hands, when they know that they have to allow fate to finally intercede. And fate has quite a job this weekend. The grizzled warrior versus the rising youngster.}
{As he wipes the sweat from his face with a towel we see a smirk cross his face. He is ready… And you will see a battle.}
I must admit Rob, that in your attempt to find something original to say this week that you really did something original. This is the first time my cultural background has been attacked, so I figure a response is necessary. Calling me a goomba, it only bothers me because you said it, because you don’t know that that term isn’t a word used for a cretin or a loser but it is a term of endearment in my community. Calling someone a goomba isn’t like calling them a guinea, a dego, a wop or a greaseball.
I am a goomba… See, I don’t take that as a personal insult, because if you truly knew what a goomba was you would know that it is one of the most endearing words that Italian Americans use to describe one another, maybe someday down the road, we can eat some pasta have some wine and you can learn what it is to be a goomba. See the goomba is a loving man, the one thing a goomba understands more then anything else is love and if you know any Italian-Americans you would understand that.
Using the words goomba in a negative context though? Why not just call a black man the “n” word or a gay person the “f” word. Everything about a goomba is full of love; a goomba loves his family, his friends, his ladies and even his food. He cares a great deal about his clothes and his car and people like you, non goomba’s will never understand that. You will never understand the amount of love and passion we have for each and every thing we have in life.
What is a goomba? A guy whose name ends in a vowel, he works for a living he’s loyal, stubborn and patriotic. He probably drives a Lincoln or a Cadillac and listens to Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin. And he cares about his family and friends above all Rob.
Rob has it come to this? Has it come to racial slurs? Is that what you are using to drive yourself to hate me? Because I don’t hate you, I am not looking to kill you, or beat you because honestly I am sick of people using the word kill in their musings because really you aren’t going to kill me, you aren’t going to maim me and you aren’t going to hurt me beyond what normally happens when two dudes go at it.
My focus is clearly on you, my focus is clearly on offering you the best match I can, one that will be remembered and win, lose or draw I will come out of this match looking better then I did when I went in and I can do that without snarling, without threatening your life and without falling into some stereotypical gimmick that ends in a catchphrase. I won’t force hatred and emotion where there isn’t any because honestly Rob, we are both talented and I know you think I don’t deserve to be here, or maybe you do I can’t really tell.
But I am coming to wrestle you. Not to kill you, not to maim you, not to eat your soul because this is a job, this is a passion. Sometimes I look at the things we say in preparation for a match and chuckle because can you believe a bunch of dudes in the office wearing their suits saying…
“Brother my stock portfolio is better then yours, now I am going to bang your wife and molest your mother”
No… It would be silly…
Don’t be silly. Let’s just be wrestlers, let’s just do what we do. Let’s entertain the masses with our athleticism.
And for god’s sake, stop trying to use racial epithets because I know deep down Rob that you love me… And that you want to be with me, and since you can’t because I don’t swing that way then you have to settle for the next best thing, my half sister.
{Scene opens to the arena where the PPV is going to take place, Xander stands in the center of the ring in the empty arena looking around. The arena looks massive in the empty state, ready to absorb thousands of people in it. Gib walks into the scene, he wears a big shiny sheriff’s badge on a black vest with a pair of jeans}
Gib: One year ago, I stood on this stage against Will Washington and Angel. One year ago I retired here, knowing that my days in active competition are over. It took me to the age of 49 years old to get to this match, and here you are… 23 years old and you have made it to the biggest match in wrestling.
Xander: I know dad, I have played it cool, but I won’t lie. Just standing here in this arena, knowing that this is the biggest event in the year and knowing that people bought tickets to see this match makes the butterflies fly in ways I have never felt.
Gib: That is a good thing. Overconfidence is one thing you don’t want here boy, that is the edge I think you have against Robby boy, he doesn’t see any way that he walks out of this match without the title. You have a chance son, you could do this. You can become the best at your age and then, the sky is the limit. You need to stay focused and get the job done.
Xander: Yeah… I am ready. I am totally ready. This is going to be a night to remember…
Gib: I can’t wait to come out to the ring to celebrate with you man, I can’t wait to lift you into the air and have that confetti falling on us man. This is the big time… And you have made it.
Xander: I have made it.
{Gib slaps his hand on Xander’s shoulder and the scene fades}
I won’t fall into the game Rob, no matter how hard you push or prod me. I won’t make reference to your jaded sense of history or your belief that everything in the world is the way it is because you have made it that way. You sound a lot like Kim Jong Il to be honest. But I am not making this a match where I want to kill you, or maim you. What you call fluttering between making you mad and praising you I call what alcoholics refer to as a moment of clarity.
In the midst of trying to create a story for this match I honestly had a moment where I said…
**** It…
I don’t need to stoop to the stupid mind games, I don’t need to play this off as a match where I want to kill my opponent leaving them maimed and bloody and brutalized. I just want to have a wrestling match. Is that so hard? Is it hard for you to participate in this sport you claim to love so much just by wrestling?
No… You don’t love this sport, you love yourself man. You love the self promotion, you love stepping on people, you love walking on them and you know what, say what you want, talk all the **** you want…
And I am still coming. I am still coming to wrestle you, not to kill you, not you rape your family or to thrust my man meat into your mouth. I won’t make petty and unintelligible threats about killing you or crippling you because I tried that gimmick and you know what. I hated myself every minute of myself, whoring myself out for popularity. Is that what you have become Rob? A common whore sucking cock for a quick trick?
I refuse to believe it… I will strike your words from my mind this weekend, I will let the competitor in me take over. And I will rise…
Tomorrow night is going to be a night to remember for both of us. I have nothing to lose Rob…
And it is about time you see how seriously dangerous that makes me.