Post by Caleb Lockwood on Sept 24, 2011 19:38:34 GMT -6
Fade in on me sitting in Clive. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the banner is up and the chair is back. I sit up in it, sipping from a glass of water on a side table, and set the glass back down, clearing my throat before I begin speaking.
“I hate trash talking. No, really. I hate this constant game of one-upsmanship, the need to have a more vicious and brutal insult than the other guy, that burning need to always be able to say ‘Yeah? Well, I totally smoked you when I said…’ It just always seemed like a bunch of pointless posturing. And yet, we’re almost contractually obligated to take part in it. I have for months. But I don’t want to. I never wanted to. That’s not who I am. I don’t insult people, or mock them, or cast aspersions about their sexuality. I’m not here for any of that. I’m here because I love professional wrestling, and I have wanted to be the best in the world all my life.”
True story, ladies and gentlemen. I shift in my seat, leaning forward, and try to force myself to take a respectful, calm and even tone. Wouldn’t do to get called out as a giant hypocrite when I’m talking about something as important as this.
“I don’t want to go on about Jason Evans being a creep, or Xander Famularo being a disrespectful jackass, or Seth Evans having terrible taste in mentors, or Gjenrei being thoroughly and utterly incomprehensible…but it’s what we’re expected to do. It’s the formula, the script, and hell or high water we have to stick to it, because that’s what people think the fans want to see. Really, I ask. The fans want to see the sort of emotional maturity you can get out of an episode of Jackass combined with all the contrived plot twists of an episode of All My Children? No. I don’t think so. We’re wrestlers, and that’s what they come to see: wrestling.”
The expression on my face says it all: this should be blatantly obvious to anyone with a working prefrontal cortex. If it’s not, I’m sure someone can help explain it with pictures and monosyllabic words. But that’s their job then. This is my job now.
“Now, I feel kind of lost without adhering to that script, that fallback formula. But that’s alright. I don’t mind being lost. I’ve been lost before, and I know all it’ll take to get me back on track is one familiar landmark, that one iconic image that tells me ‘here’s where you are, and here’s where you need to go.’ I’m sure I’ll get hell for doing this, get mocked for being a pansy or not tough enough or edgy enough. Well you know what? Edgy is overrated. I’m sick and tired of edgy. Edgy hasn’t been cool since the 20th century. Xander can go on about his eloquent verbiage until the cows come home, but when his insults of choice for me involve the words “ignorant douche” and checking my own ass for polyps…yeah, not buying it, man.”
In case you hadn’t puzzled it out yet, I REALLY hate people that try to be edgy for edgy’s sake. Am I a decade or two too late to really catch the bandwagon on ranting on this phenomenon? Anywhere else in the world, yes. But in nCw, where 1998 comic book antihero morality seems to be the norm? I’m right on time.
“I’m not edgy. Not by a long shot. I’m a safe call, an easy out. But I don’t mind being that alternative. I don’t care that I won’t appeal to the Hot Topic demographic, or the ones that think Insane Clown Posse is the height of musical and lyrical skill. I’m not here to please everyone. I can try, but I won’t. Facts are, last month at Nothing to Lose I achieved a personal dream. I wrestled a match…on pay-per-view…in Madison Square Garden. The Holy of Holies, the most sacred of professional wrestling venues, and I had a match there. An actual pay-per-view match. And…I won. I heard the Garden explode when my name was announced, and right then and there, I knew that everything I had gone through in my life was worth it, if only for that one moment of glory.”
Once again, no lie. That was probably the proudest night of my life…up until Battlegrounds, and maybe even afterward, depending on how things shake out Sunday. Here’s hoping for the best, but I can’t guarantee anything.
“Everyone talks about how little the other men in this match know, how their strengths are going to be useless. I say quite the opposite. Jason and Xander are strong, but that just means they could put any of the high-flyers in this match out with one huge move. The high-flyers? Yeah, we can flip and stuff. But we can also get the hell out of the way. Seth...Seth thinks he’s the best of both worlds, but I’m not quite sold on that yet. In a match where four other men are gunning for your head, being able to vacate the premises immediately and head for the figurative hills, here being the belt, seems like a pretty good ability. Plus, I’ve been studying match tapes of other Assault X matches. Yeah, I know I downplayed tapes before, but sometimes you can learn from those who came before.”
I tap my temple, just like all those ‘cerebral’ wrestlers I watched in my youth, and flash that same cheeky grin. Oh, how many people I’ve pissed off with that grin…it’d be funny if it weren’t so sad…that sentence could sum up a lot of situations in nCw, now that I think about it…kind of eerie.
“Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, I’ll try to make this short and painless: gentlemen, I wish you the best of luck come Battlegrounds, but know this: I will fight with every fiber of my being to achieve my dream of being a champion. I will claw and scratch and drag my way to the top of the mountain…and that belt, suspended high over the ring, is going to be coming home with me, no matter what I have to do or whose asses I have to kick to accomplish it. Don’t blink, any of you. Not even for a second. Blink…and you might miss something.”
And fade to black.
“I hate trash talking. No, really. I hate this constant game of one-upsmanship, the need to have a more vicious and brutal insult than the other guy, that burning need to always be able to say ‘Yeah? Well, I totally smoked you when I said…’ It just always seemed like a bunch of pointless posturing. And yet, we’re almost contractually obligated to take part in it. I have for months. But I don’t want to. I never wanted to. That’s not who I am. I don’t insult people, or mock them, or cast aspersions about their sexuality. I’m not here for any of that. I’m here because I love professional wrestling, and I have wanted to be the best in the world all my life.”
True story, ladies and gentlemen. I shift in my seat, leaning forward, and try to force myself to take a respectful, calm and even tone. Wouldn’t do to get called out as a giant hypocrite when I’m talking about something as important as this.
“I don’t want to go on about Jason Evans being a creep, or Xander Famularo being a disrespectful jackass, or Seth Evans having terrible taste in mentors, or Gjenrei being thoroughly and utterly incomprehensible…but it’s what we’re expected to do. It’s the formula, the script, and hell or high water we have to stick to it, because that’s what people think the fans want to see. Really, I ask. The fans want to see the sort of emotional maturity you can get out of an episode of Jackass combined with all the contrived plot twists of an episode of All My Children? No. I don’t think so. We’re wrestlers, and that’s what they come to see: wrestling.”
The expression on my face says it all: this should be blatantly obvious to anyone with a working prefrontal cortex. If it’s not, I’m sure someone can help explain it with pictures and monosyllabic words. But that’s their job then. This is my job now.
“Now, I feel kind of lost without adhering to that script, that fallback formula. But that’s alright. I don’t mind being lost. I’ve been lost before, and I know all it’ll take to get me back on track is one familiar landmark, that one iconic image that tells me ‘here’s where you are, and here’s where you need to go.’ I’m sure I’ll get hell for doing this, get mocked for being a pansy or not tough enough or edgy enough. Well you know what? Edgy is overrated. I’m sick and tired of edgy. Edgy hasn’t been cool since the 20th century. Xander can go on about his eloquent verbiage until the cows come home, but when his insults of choice for me involve the words “ignorant douche” and checking my own ass for polyps…yeah, not buying it, man.”
In case you hadn’t puzzled it out yet, I REALLY hate people that try to be edgy for edgy’s sake. Am I a decade or two too late to really catch the bandwagon on ranting on this phenomenon? Anywhere else in the world, yes. But in nCw, where 1998 comic book antihero morality seems to be the norm? I’m right on time.
“I’m not edgy. Not by a long shot. I’m a safe call, an easy out. But I don’t mind being that alternative. I don’t care that I won’t appeal to the Hot Topic demographic, or the ones that think Insane Clown Posse is the height of musical and lyrical skill. I’m not here to please everyone. I can try, but I won’t. Facts are, last month at Nothing to Lose I achieved a personal dream. I wrestled a match…on pay-per-view…in Madison Square Garden. The Holy of Holies, the most sacred of professional wrestling venues, and I had a match there. An actual pay-per-view match. And…I won. I heard the Garden explode when my name was announced, and right then and there, I knew that everything I had gone through in my life was worth it, if only for that one moment of glory.”
Once again, no lie. That was probably the proudest night of my life…up until Battlegrounds, and maybe even afterward, depending on how things shake out Sunday. Here’s hoping for the best, but I can’t guarantee anything.
“Everyone talks about how little the other men in this match know, how their strengths are going to be useless. I say quite the opposite. Jason and Xander are strong, but that just means they could put any of the high-flyers in this match out with one huge move. The high-flyers? Yeah, we can flip and stuff. But we can also get the hell out of the way. Seth...Seth thinks he’s the best of both worlds, but I’m not quite sold on that yet. In a match where four other men are gunning for your head, being able to vacate the premises immediately and head for the figurative hills, here being the belt, seems like a pretty good ability. Plus, I’ve been studying match tapes of other Assault X matches. Yeah, I know I downplayed tapes before, but sometimes you can learn from those who came before.”
I tap my temple, just like all those ‘cerebral’ wrestlers I watched in my youth, and flash that same cheeky grin. Oh, how many people I’ve pissed off with that grin…it’d be funny if it weren’t so sad…that sentence could sum up a lot of situations in nCw, now that I think about it…kind of eerie.
“Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, I’ll try to make this short and painless: gentlemen, I wish you the best of luck come Battlegrounds, but know this: I will fight with every fiber of my being to achieve my dream of being a champion. I will claw and scratch and drag my way to the top of the mountain…and that belt, suspended high over the ring, is going to be coming home with me, no matter what I have to do or whose asses I have to kick to accomplish it. Don’t blink, any of you. Not even for a second. Blink…and you might miss something.”
And fade to black.