Post by Dave Holland (Disguised) on Aug 24, 2011 13:58:33 GMT -6
{A voice. It's distorted. Clearly passed through some kind of device to change it. Like kidnappers use when they make their ransom demands.}
Let me tell you some things about people. Something a lot of people and especially a lot of newcomers don't tend to understand. Especially in this world we call wrestling.
It doesn't matter who you are. Look at me. I'm no one. Nobody. My identity, hidden. My name, unknown. No one knows a damn thing about me and as far as my personal and private life go, that's the way it's going to stay.
It doesn't matter what you've done. It's in the past and all it shows is what you did in the past. That was then, this is now. I'm living in this moment. This constant, ever moving moment.
Because that's what truly matters. That's the only thing you have control over.
The Past is gone. The future's nothing more than a dream. The now is here.
And so am I.
{The camera shows a street. Packed with cars and illuminated by street lights. It follows the street as the traffic flows through the night. The helicopter feed having been muted so we can hear the same voice speaking over the top.}
And so are you. Sort of. You've already made your presence known Laszlo, that much I've seen. You've done a lot of talking. Tried to make people sit up and take notice because apparently, there's no point trying anymore. The best is here. Simply put, right? Interesting philosophy. I don't think there has ever been a case of determining the best... in a simple way. There's nothing simple about competition. There's skills.. there's entire skillsets for that matter. There's strengths, there's weaknesses. There's random chance. There's luck. There's mentality. There's... well.. I could go on making this list forever. The point is, you might be better at some things... but there's always something you'll be worse at than someone else. There is always someone, somewhere, who in the right circumstances will be... better.
So there's nothing simple about claiming the title of 'best'.
But now it's me digressing. Let me explain my earlier 'sort of'. Do you remember what I was saying earlier about what matters? About it not being who you are or what you've done? Yeah. All I've heard from you really covers that and almost that alone. Oh sure, you've said some on what the future holds for the 'indomitable' Mike Laszlo, but really, if you think about it.. it's the same old stuff any new recruit would say.
'I'm the next big thing'
'I'm going to earn.. no, take what I deserve'
'Watch me become world champion'
'Look ma, no hands'
Same words, different mouth, different date. I know it sounds weird, someone like me, fresh face.. well.. visor into a federation and I'm already judging you like one of the big boys. But the truth is.. I'm too tired of seeing the same old schtick from everyone, everywhere I go. I'd heard this place was the great shining beacon in the wilderness. I'd heard things here were different. That they were a better class of competitor here. And then I get stuck with you. More of the same. Just my damn luck.
I pray to god you prove me wrong.
{The camera flickers. Jump cutting several times across several of New York's landmarks. We stop at the top of the Empire State Building. It's a cliché but hey, it's still a good place to stand in the dark. The city of New York illuminates the backdrop with it's symphony of light and colour.}
And on paper.. signs are good. You and I aren't a million miles apart from one another. Style-wise we're just either side of technical. Without giving too much away about myself, a lot of the stuff you say you've done, I've also done. And am still doing. You're a father, I'm a father. You've had some time away from the ring, I've had some time away from the ring... and neither of us have let ourselves get out of shape. Sometimes the greatest wrestling matches are between two men so similarly matched but so slightly different. On paper, this could be among them.
But I just can't help thinking that it won't. I can't help feeling that at the heart of this great city this Sunday night, the people of the world aren't even going to care. They're going to blink and miss what might possibly be one of the more important events of your life. The moment when your ego was taken down a notch. The moment you realised that this place is different... that nCw is special.
Can't you sense it? Can't you feel it?
There is power here. There's electricity. There's greatness to be had by those that can make it. And ignominy for those that can't. And to show the difference... ok, I'll stoop to your level. I'll let you know some tid-bits about my decorations.
{The camera starts hurtling across town. It very quickly homes in on Madison Square Garden, the location of Sunday's event. But then it nose dives to ground level and speeds along the streets, the lights, shapes and sounds all blurring into some wormhole type effect.}
World championship... check.
Tag Championship... check.
More titles than I could even start to count... check.
Tournament victories... check.
Fame... check.
Glory... check.
And four years? Rookie, call me in another 6 and then we'll talk business.
Other than the length of our careers, again we're very similar individuals. But the difference is in outlook. Is in attitude. You think that because no one's stopped you yet that no one ever will. You suffer from the same downright arrogant outlook that plagues the ranks of so many federations. I know there're people out there better. But what I do is, I find them. I fight them. And while it might not be the first attempt.. I always.. always.. overcome them. Adjust, Adapt, Evolve and move one. Someone who thinks they're already the best will never improve.
Ten years strong and still improving.
But why should I care if you don't see that the road you're walking down is only leading to a kicking. Why should I make the effort to save and, god forbid, educate this foolish moron?
Or should I call you... simple?
{The path leads through into a backroom at Madison Square Garden. Standing in there, familiarising himself with the surroundings is none other than Daniel V Daloham. Well,... we can see his body at least. He wears the white racing style overalls. We never see his head though. His helmet is sat on a counter at the side, the camera slowly encroaching upon it.}
Frankly, I shouldn't have to. The onus isn't on any one person to make anyone else look bad, it's on each of us to perform at our best. To make ourselves look good. No responsibility for others. No pity, no remorse. Winning at any costs? It's just a tag line. A gimmick. The truth is we're all like that at our core. Everyone's out for themselves and that's where it ends.
So go ahead. If you think you can end my career, you go right on ahead and try. You won't be the first, I doubt you'll be the last. Hell the last group of people who tried to end my career.. kinda did. Because here I am. Incognito. Brand new slate, brand new start. Do you want to know why I wear this helmet, Mike?
{A pair of hands, gloved in white, pick up the helmet. The camera follows the helmet as it pauses at waist level, held at a careful angle so as not to show the face of the holder in the mirrored visor.}
I was in a federation a couple of years back. I was like you. Cocky, arrogant... thought I was god's gift to wrestling. Thought there was no man on earth who could take me down. And I was right... there was no man. But there were men. I'd been such an ass that I actually managed to unite an entire federation against me. I even hear there's still a charter out there somewhere swearing allegiance to the coalition against.. well... my true name. They tore me apart. They broke me in half and they cast me to the gutter. And they swore that if I showed my face again in the world of wrestling they would do the same to my wife and my daughter.
So my face is hidden. I forget all of their names so I don't even know if any of them are here but better safe than sorry. But I can still wrestle. I healed... I got stronger... I even took a chance and scored a couple of revenge victories without giving myself away. And that's where the V comes from. A lesson you will learn on sunday.
{The helmet is raised and placed onto the head of the bearer though the camera doesn't follow it to maintain the mystery of the man. The camera finally makes its way up and shows the full scale of the man we've just watched. Sure enough... we know absolutely nothing new from this picture. He wears white racing overalls and a mirrored visor helmet.}
The V... stands for victory. And that... is what I do.
And that is what truly matters.
{A low whine sound can be heard as the man doesn't move a muscle, just stares at the TV. The whine gets louder and louder until it just cuts out, taking the picture with it.}
Let me tell you some things about people. Something a lot of people and especially a lot of newcomers don't tend to understand. Especially in this world we call wrestling.
It doesn't matter who you are. Look at me. I'm no one. Nobody. My identity, hidden. My name, unknown. No one knows a damn thing about me and as far as my personal and private life go, that's the way it's going to stay.
It doesn't matter what you've done. It's in the past and all it shows is what you did in the past. That was then, this is now. I'm living in this moment. This constant, ever moving moment.
Because that's what truly matters. That's the only thing you have control over.
The Past is gone. The future's nothing more than a dream. The now is here.
And so am I.
{The camera shows a street. Packed with cars and illuminated by street lights. It follows the street as the traffic flows through the night. The helicopter feed having been muted so we can hear the same voice speaking over the top.}
And so are you. Sort of. You've already made your presence known Laszlo, that much I've seen. You've done a lot of talking. Tried to make people sit up and take notice because apparently, there's no point trying anymore. The best is here. Simply put, right? Interesting philosophy. I don't think there has ever been a case of determining the best... in a simple way. There's nothing simple about competition. There's skills.. there's entire skillsets for that matter. There's strengths, there's weaknesses. There's random chance. There's luck. There's mentality. There's... well.. I could go on making this list forever. The point is, you might be better at some things... but there's always something you'll be worse at than someone else. There is always someone, somewhere, who in the right circumstances will be... better.
So there's nothing simple about claiming the title of 'best'.
But now it's me digressing. Let me explain my earlier 'sort of'. Do you remember what I was saying earlier about what matters? About it not being who you are or what you've done? Yeah. All I've heard from you really covers that and almost that alone. Oh sure, you've said some on what the future holds for the 'indomitable' Mike Laszlo, but really, if you think about it.. it's the same old stuff any new recruit would say.
'I'm the next big thing'
'I'm going to earn.. no, take what I deserve'
'Watch me become world champion'
'Look ma, no hands'
Same words, different mouth, different date. I know it sounds weird, someone like me, fresh face.. well.. visor into a federation and I'm already judging you like one of the big boys. But the truth is.. I'm too tired of seeing the same old schtick from everyone, everywhere I go. I'd heard this place was the great shining beacon in the wilderness. I'd heard things here were different. That they were a better class of competitor here. And then I get stuck with you. More of the same. Just my damn luck.
I pray to god you prove me wrong.
{The camera flickers. Jump cutting several times across several of New York's landmarks. We stop at the top of the Empire State Building. It's a cliché but hey, it's still a good place to stand in the dark. The city of New York illuminates the backdrop with it's symphony of light and colour.}
And on paper.. signs are good. You and I aren't a million miles apart from one another. Style-wise we're just either side of technical. Without giving too much away about myself, a lot of the stuff you say you've done, I've also done. And am still doing. You're a father, I'm a father. You've had some time away from the ring, I've had some time away from the ring... and neither of us have let ourselves get out of shape. Sometimes the greatest wrestling matches are between two men so similarly matched but so slightly different. On paper, this could be among them.
But I just can't help thinking that it won't. I can't help feeling that at the heart of this great city this Sunday night, the people of the world aren't even going to care. They're going to blink and miss what might possibly be one of the more important events of your life. The moment when your ego was taken down a notch. The moment you realised that this place is different... that nCw is special.
Can't you sense it? Can't you feel it?
There is power here. There's electricity. There's greatness to be had by those that can make it. And ignominy for those that can't. And to show the difference... ok, I'll stoop to your level. I'll let you know some tid-bits about my decorations.
{The camera starts hurtling across town. It very quickly homes in on Madison Square Garden, the location of Sunday's event. But then it nose dives to ground level and speeds along the streets, the lights, shapes and sounds all blurring into some wormhole type effect.}
World championship... check.
Tag Championship... check.
More titles than I could even start to count... check.
Tournament victories... check.
Fame... check.
Glory... check.
And four years? Rookie, call me in another 6 and then we'll talk business.
Other than the length of our careers, again we're very similar individuals. But the difference is in outlook. Is in attitude. You think that because no one's stopped you yet that no one ever will. You suffer from the same downright arrogant outlook that plagues the ranks of so many federations. I know there're people out there better. But what I do is, I find them. I fight them. And while it might not be the first attempt.. I always.. always.. overcome them. Adjust, Adapt, Evolve and move one. Someone who thinks they're already the best will never improve.
Ten years strong and still improving.
But why should I care if you don't see that the road you're walking down is only leading to a kicking. Why should I make the effort to save and, god forbid, educate this foolish moron?
Or should I call you... simple?
{The path leads through into a backroom at Madison Square Garden. Standing in there, familiarising himself with the surroundings is none other than Daniel V Daloham. Well,... we can see his body at least. He wears the white racing style overalls. We never see his head though. His helmet is sat on a counter at the side, the camera slowly encroaching upon it.}
Frankly, I shouldn't have to. The onus isn't on any one person to make anyone else look bad, it's on each of us to perform at our best. To make ourselves look good. No responsibility for others. No pity, no remorse. Winning at any costs? It's just a tag line. A gimmick. The truth is we're all like that at our core. Everyone's out for themselves and that's where it ends.
So go ahead. If you think you can end my career, you go right on ahead and try. You won't be the first, I doubt you'll be the last. Hell the last group of people who tried to end my career.. kinda did. Because here I am. Incognito. Brand new slate, brand new start. Do you want to know why I wear this helmet, Mike?
{A pair of hands, gloved in white, pick up the helmet. The camera follows the helmet as it pauses at waist level, held at a careful angle so as not to show the face of the holder in the mirrored visor.}
I was in a federation a couple of years back. I was like you. Cocky, arrogant... thought I was god's gift to wrestling. Thought there was no man on earth who could take me down. And I was right... there was no man. But there were men. I'd been such an ass that I actually managed to unite an entire federation against me. I even hear there's still a charter out there somewhere swearing allegiance to the coalition against.. well... my true name. They tore me apart. They broke me in half and they cast me to the gutter. And they swore that if I showed my face again in the world of wrestling they would do the same to my wife and my daughter.
So my face is hidden. I forget all of their names so I don't even know if any of them are here but better safe than sorry. But I can still wrestle. I healed... I got stronger... I even took a chance and scored a couple of revenge victories without giving myself away. And that's where the V comes from. A lesson you will learn on sunday.
{The helmet is raised and placed onto the head of the bearer though the camera doesn't follow it to maintain the mystery of the man. The camera finally makes its way up and shows the full scale of the man we've just watched. Sure enough... we know absolutely nothing new from this picture. He wears white racing overalls and a mirrored visor helmet.}
The V... stands for victory. And that... is what I do.
And that is what truly matters.
{A low whine sound can be heard as the man doesn't move a muscle, just stares at the TV. The whine gets louder and louder until it just cuts out, taking the picture with it.}