Post by Pooler on Jun 25, 2011 15:50:02 GMT -6
“I believe that one defines oneself by reinvention. To not be like your parents. To not be like your friends. To be yourself. To cut yourself out of stone.”
~ Henry Rollins
A superstar is someone who excels at some particular endeavor or a quality or trait. A superstar is one who rises to the top of a particular endeavor or realm of personal accomplishment. A superstar is a winner; one who masters a particular skill or quality. It does not matter what that activity, skill or trait may be. Through extensive effort, experimentation and practice, a superstar achieves a level of competence that far exceeds the general criteria for average performance. A superstar stands out and rises to the pinnacle of achievement and excellence.
It also stands to reason that the attainment of superstar status provides a person with enormous tangible and internal rewards. Thus, there is something great and gratifying to be attained by investing enormous effort into an activity or skill. It also does not matter what that activity or endeavor may be. It could be the attainment of the highest level in business, sports, a specific profession or relationship.
If you are interested in what it takes to become a superstar, first you must accept the concept that there is such a thing as a superstar. Look at the people in his profession who have achieved an outstanding and unique position in a sport many consider a throwback to a more barbaric era. What makes these people so different and successful? They made a choice to fully be themselves and to pursue their truth with incredible passion, direction, and resources.
I have seen many people who seem to be well on their way to superstar status, only to have something happen in their lives that creates personal disaster. Nobody plans for disaster and failure. But if you study the successful attitudes and practices of those who have come before you and achieved the title of superstar, you will learn what and how to attain similar, and excellent, results.
The journey to superstar status always begins at the bottom, where incompetence and lack of skill predominates. The road to absolute excellence proceeds through a series of fits and starts with many crags and obstacles along the way. Each one of these hurdles has a lesson and a message to be learned and mastered along the path to superstardom.
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The pints on the table are half empty, the room alive with sound. More tan a few glances already cast in the direction of the two men sitting across from each other chatting. While Pooler, dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt doesn’t seem to stick out nearly as much as the man sitting with his head buried in his hand. From the fat lip to the black eye, Bobby Donnelly sticks out like a sore thumb here in the same bar he’d been recently been sitting in before getting his arse handed to him in the alley behind it.
”Listen mate, whilst I appreciate the pint I’m just not in the mood for this right now.”
With his had still cradled gingerly in his hands, Donnelly can’t seethe smile on Pooler’s face. But, after knowing the man as long as he has he doesn’t need to see in order to know what he’s doing.
”Wipe that smile off yur face too. Be a mate and order another pint if yur gonna sit there in such a good mood.”
Pooler smiles before hoisting himself up and making his way across the bar and attempt to get the attention of the overworked bartender. No sooner is Pooler out of site then Donnelly feels a presence at the table with him. He spreads the fingers of his right hand open, peeking through them with his good eye.
”Oh for ****s sake …”
As though he didn’t already have enough trouble to worry about, fate decided that ol’ Bobby needed a nice bit of lemon juice and salt to rub on his wounds.
”Watch your mouth tosser.”
Donnelly drops his hands to the table. His knuckles are bruised and scratched up; his face looks both swollen and emotionally drained. So it’s surprising that through his good eye he’s able to convey such absolute and total hatred for the woman sitting within choking distance.
”’Aven’t you done enough tonight luv?”
She smiles, her red lips spreading across perfectly white teeth. With one delicate hand she reaches forward and takes hold of the pint in front of her. Holding it below her nose she sniffs it before taking a swig. She squints her left eye and makes a face as she swallows. Placing the glass back on the table she pushes it forward and closer to Donnelly as she sticks out her tongue in disgust.
”Still drinking that piss eh?”
Donnelly takes along swig of his pint almost I defense before looking to get to the point.
”Get on with it ya bint …” (wiping his mouth with his sleeve) ”I ave’t got all night and my friend will be back in a minute.”
Unabashed at the insult the mystery woman continues
”Here’s the deal, you come through on your end of the deal and you walk away a wealthy,” (winking at Donnelly) ”and free man. But I’ve been asked to make this part particularly clear … “ (leaning herself forward she snakes her hand beneath the table until it comes to a rest in Donnelly’s lap.) ”If you cock this up Bobby …” (In an instant she grabs hold of his crown jewels as tightly as she can) ”These will be served up on a platter. We clear?”
She releases her hold on him and the color begins to return to his face. He nods at her that he understands as she quietly gets up from the seat and saunters over to him and leans down closely until her lips are just brushing his ear.
”We’ll be in touch soon Bobby, have a good night and try to keep out of trouble.
With that she disappears into the crowd just as Pooler sits back down with two more pints filled up to the top. As he slides down into his seat he looks across the table with an eyebrow cocked.
”Who’s the chick?”
Donnelly, reaching out and grabbing the pint and chugging back half, looks Pooler right in the eyes.
”Remember that time I told you the story about my first wife?”
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”Joe, Nate, actions speak louder than words, and right now boys … I’m flipping you the **** off!
Maybe this is the reason why video blogs have become all the rage. You just miss the little idiosyncrasies when you type out your thoughts. But, if there’s one thing that Bob Pooler is, it’s honest. I don’t want you going through the rest of your day not knowing if the maple syrup chugging punk gave you a nice digital ‘eff you or not. But that’s not why you bothered stepping into my little world again is it Joe? No, you’ve come because of your hard hitting, Geraldo Rivera-esque questions. Well get comfortable ‘Mr. Legend’ ‘cause this might be a long night. I think you; more so than anyone else in this company, get it. Consider that one of the best compliments you’ll get from me bud. See, you raised some rather intriguing questions but there was just one you seemed to over look. So please, allow me to ask it for you. The question, oddly enough, isn’t whether or not I’m going to pull off the upset victory. No. The question that you neglected to ask is the same question that a lot of champions seem to ignore.
What kind of champion will you be?
While I may be putting the cart before the horse by already naming myself the future Honor Champion let’s forgo the typical false humbleness and get right to the good stuff. It’s been obvious that you aren’t the kind of man who ducks competition, unlike some of the other former ‘champions’ I’ve seen running around here. I respect that about you Joey, but for all your guts and never-back-down attitude you still remain clueless as ****. You want to tell stories? Spin yarns for the idiots lining the arenas? It’s about time you take a long hard look in the mirror and realize that the only story you’ve been peddling lately is of the bedtime variety. Stories of the family man who, through determination, will power and just a sprinkling of chutzpah has a chance to not be the joke everyone thinks he is and make a legitimate run at a title. Another Cinderella story for the ages; Joe Everyman … the story of a man who should’ve just disappeared into the sunset, because brother … after this Sunday you won’t want to be showing your face around this place.
Your failure this weekend isn’t your fault Joe, no I don’t just blame you; you don’t deserve to shoulder that burden all alone. The real fault is placed on those standing behind you heading into this weekend. I’ve seen the rankings, read through the pages of predictions, and been lucky enough to hear various conversations here and there about this match. But in all my years, which you still view as not being very long indeed but for the sake of the argument we’ll forgo that misnomer; in all my years I’ve never seen an entire roster so ****ing oblivious to the **** they’re being fed week after week. Yet another news flash, folks. It may not be Joe’s fault entirely but this shtick about rising up from his horrible luck in recent months until he can prove to himself and blah, blah, blah … it’s all been said and done. He hasn’t exactly been facing off against the highest caliber of talent; flash back a couple weeks back when you faced off against another relative newcomer to this company; Sunday, June twelfth, two thousand eleven: Collision … Joe Everyman versus Nathan Webb.
They go in for the collar to elbow of which Joe gets the advantage by wrenching Nathan's arm into a wrist lock! Nathan now delivers a few punches before countering the wrist lock with one of his own! Now Joe hits Nathan with a few fists to the face before taking Nathan's arm and whipping him to the ropes! Joe goes for a clothesline but Nathan runs under it! Webb hits the ropes and bounces back to run under the leap frog from Joe! Once again Nathan bounces off the ropes and Joe was waiting with a stellar dropkick that Nathan slaps out of the way.
Joe then grapples him from behind and tosses him back for a German Suplex but Webb surprisingly flips to his feet and quickly takes Joe from behind and locks in the "Cold Squeeze" submission! Joe is desperately fighting to get out of the hold but the squeeze is on tight. Joe races backwards and presses Nathan up against the turnbuckles. Not once, not twice, but thrice times and Nathan let's go of his finisher. Joe turns and shoulder blocks Nathan in the corner a couple of times, trying to ignore the pain the "Cold Squeeze" inflicted. When Joe goes for his fifth shoulder block, Nathan surprises him with a European Uppercut. Nathan climbs the turnbuckles and hits a sky high "Spider's Guillotine"! Webb pins Joe and 1... 2... 3!! Nathan continues his winning streak!!!
”Way I see it; you owe Nathan a pretty big thank you Joe Joe. He made you look good that night. He built you up before tearing it all away and walking away with his arms held high. So yes, be proud of the fact that you lasted as long as you did against a man who has more meaningful conversations with his imaginary friend than you do with your ‘oh so understanding’ wife and daughter. You, in my modest and honest opinion are one of the most overrated pieces of **** I’ve seen in my life time. Look at it this way; you’ve done less in your time here in nCw than most people. Hype yourself up all you want about your Honor title reigns, and your National title reigns; the only thing you’ve ever really done right … is disappoint your family. Oh sure, your little girl may look up to her daddy now, but let’s check back in ten years when she’s writing a book about how horrible her childhood was. Your wife? Well she seems understanding to your face, but let’s be honest … when she’s not sneaking out of Steve Awesome’s locker room she’s under the tables trying to ‘convince’ the bookers and powers that be that you deserve another shot. Isn’t that nice? She takes a shot so you can get one yourself; that’s what families are for Joe.
Now then, Nathan … what you consider ‘wasting my breath’ I consider making crystal clear. Could I have summed up everything I said about you in one simple sentence? Abso-****ing-lutely. But you know, my way was much more fun. Though, I’m surprised, really, that you haven’t bothered going the route normally traveled at this point. I know I’ve said it before but you really do seem to get it at times Webb. Those little moments of clarity amongst the rest of the insanity; maybe it’s the age and experience that aren’t completely blinding you like so many of your peers. Yes, while not coming right out and saying it, I’ve been in the lip service game a long time and I know a backhanded compliment when I see one. You’ve done a lot of changing since the last time you stepped into the ring with me? You want to go around the way to tell me that my previous win over you was the equivalent of a lottery win? Anything can happen on any given Sunday. Pfft. I’ve been around the world, Natey. I’ve seen many faces; some with bright futures ahead of them, others that would forever be known as the fodder talent. I’ve seen a lot of places, Nate. From back ally brawls to one bizarre fight that actually took place down in the holding cells of a police station. In all my years I’ve seen and done things that I’m not going to bother justifying to you. The people who need to know what I’ve done do, and we’ll leave it at that. I don’t bother justifying what I’ve done because I don't stay up at night worrying about whether or not my actions make me a bad person. I’ve done what I’ve done to give myself a better life. Does that mean the occasional endeavor that may, or may not be, completely legal by whichever governing body is in charge of the country I’m currently living in? You’re sure as hell right it does. I’m a business man and in my heart of hearts I’m an honest man Nate. I won’t lie to you just to be liked. My mother taught me better than that. Everything I’ve ever said or done has been to give me a better life. It’s been to line my pockets with bills and coin. I don’t lie to my opponents and tell them that it’s all about them. You look at me and see a guy who used to be something big somewhere else. You see a guy who’s now the little fish in the bigger pond. Well, it doesn’t matter what company I’m a part of Nate. I know what it’s like to have to claw and scratch your way to the top. Anyone who thinks that they can walk in the front door to a company and immediately take a place at the top of the mountain has another thing coming. I don’t expect the red carpet treatment from anyone. What I expect, though, is that when I’m done embarrassing the men that this company holds in such high esteem, that I’m given my place where I belong … at the top.
You and Joe … your dreams of Honor title reigns will soon have vanished from here Nathan. You’ll go back to your padded cell and Joe his retirement community filled with row after row of matching homes painted in pastel colors but for now here it is. The big match up everyone and their weird Uncle Tim has been waiting for! But the truth is that in spite of the fact that thousands upon thousands of dollars have been spent promoting and organizing this event nobody is going to want to plunk down their thirty-nine, ninety-five for something that’s a bygone conclusion already.
Basically what this means is that I’m not just some one trick pony. Joe, Nate … you’ve both made your names as being men of conviction who never know when to say quit. Well, all that blood you’ve spilt; all those tears you’ve cried, all those ****ing championships the two of you have won …now, none of it matters. In the here and now you are both obstacles standing in the way of me taking that Honor title. Monday morning begins the new chapter you book boys. When I walk out of Rebirth with my shot at the Honor title firmly in my hands, will you continue on or fade back into the nothingness that once came from?
Kristoff, Kristoff, Kristoff … you know what sucks? I had every intention going into this week to be my usual cynical self and lambasting you on how like the rest of the flock you are. I had every intention on making a verbal example of you in much the same light I did for Joe and Nathan; truth be told I was going to try my best to lump you in with their ilk. In retrospect you would have made my job easier by being more like the rest of the sheep running around this company, bleating to their hearts content. Looking around this company that’s all that you tend to see these days; idiots looking for handouts, title shots and respect … yeah, let me know how that works out for you. What happened to the good ol’ days of paying your dues and earning your shots? Seems like the ink isn’t even dry on a contract before these fresh faces are salivating and demanding Diamond, Gardner or Jones put their titles on the line; but you’re a different sort of character aren’t you Bates? That’s why I like you.
See, if ignorance is bliss, then nCw must seem like Shangri-La for these simpletons. For the longest time, I felt certain that stupidity, unlike the common cold and ringworm, was not contagious. Alas, I was wrong. I’ve witnessed perfectly intelligent beings suddenly turn senseless, losing their wits and behaving like absolute nitwits after intermingling with idiots. But I needed proof. The scientific and medical communities have enough trouble accepting stupidity as an affliction, let alone a communicable disease. I decided to place myself among the stupid for a period of time and carefully monitor the after effects. So week after week I found myself amongst the mentally weak and cognitive inferior with no real, quantitatively measurable response … until recently. At long last my findings were conclusive enough to prove that stupidity … IS contagious! Against the Jason Evans’ of the world I’m a cerebral juggernaut. Cutting them down with the greatest of ease; for some it’s like taking candy from a baby but for me it was like punching a pregnant woman in the belly and slapping the gum out of her mouth.
Yeah, it was pretty easy.
But week after week of the same dry competition must have lowered my immune system to the point of contamination. Like licking a handrail on the subway, continually wrestling lesser talent was an accident waiting to happen. You were my wakeup call, my signal that I was sick and in need of immediate care. See, you and I represent everything that is right this company; two men who could easily be the World champion if we set our minds to it I often thought I’d retire before truly finding an equal. Now, before I ruffle even more feathers and set the internets on fire with talks of Jimmy Zane, Adam Knite, Rob Diamon, Trent Halms, yadda, yadda, yadda, let me clarify. My equal is a man who is able to defeat me not just physically … but mentally as well. Sure, it doesn’t take much to beat me up. I’m not the most physically intimidating person on this roster for certain; but for what I lack in size I make up for in my ability to do what so few can in this business … pick you apart until you either quit *cough cough Klayton Ramone cough cough*, or better still, fly into a rage and leave yourself unable to concentrate at the task at hand, which usually involves one of my feet and your cheekbones.
In recent weeks I’ve faced off against men with you by my side. Kristoff, I had originally planned on cutting you down based on your failures and misguided history … yet I can’t. It would seem that you aren’t cut from the same cloth as the rest of the sheep. I haven’t heard you utter one syllable about a title shot, so perhaps this match truly is a gift from the stuffed suits upstairs. Victory this week seals the deal for a match against whoever leaves the Pay-Per-View with the Honor title next month. Well, I want to be the first to congratulate you on making it this far in your journey. Not many men can do what you’ve done; piss away your life, your family and your livelihood … disappear for a few years and then show up and train your ass off until you’re back on the path like nothing had ever happened.
Things have changed though haven’t they?
I mean, while there are still the useless bottom feeders choking on their own spit as they vie for locker room scraps, the rest of the field has stepped up its game considerably. You were quite the dominant force ‘way back when’ and since then haven’t really been tested. Sure, you and I beat Evans, but I hate to break this to you … who hasn’t? He hasn’t earned his spot against us any more than the International disasters did; but those are issues for another day. Today is about you Bates, specifically about you and what to expect come Sunday night.
In all my time with this company, though short, I’ve seen many of the same stories from the men and women calling it home. Most around here have the same background of either growing up ridiculously wealthy and using wrestling as a means of further showing dominance, or guys who grew up in poverty who turned to this because it was the only way out. It gets tired seeing that pop up every time I do some digging on wikipedia. But you, you sir don’t bore me … which may not be as complimentary as you might think. See, were you like the rest … weak and useless, I’d probably make it a quick match. But you aren’t weak and useless are you? No, you’re going to be competitive and this … this I like. I’m going to have fun here Bates; beating you will be much more rewarding than just a Joe Everyman or Nathan Webb. I’ve stopped many a hot streak and this Sunday will be one more tally for the score sheet, one more notch for the headboard, one more chapter in the biography. You stick to what you do best, and I’ll stick to what I do best … making sinners out of saints, liars out of honest men, and shining a light on every flaw you call a strength. Consider this the gauntlet slap in the face because the challenge has been laid down. Beat me on Sunday and you get your shot at the Honor title. Lose … well, lose and take a spot at the back of the line with everyone else.
I’m Bob Pooler …
What will I do next?”