Post by Ander Carvetti on Nov 25, 2011 9:48:00 GMT -6
“Rather fail with honor than succeed by fraud.” – Sophocles
+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+
You know, up until this exact moment, I haven't really talked about what this championship means to me. This title that is supposed to represent honor, respect, dignity...
Ideals that aren't always followed.
Let me make something clear. An Honor match is not an easy match to just up and win. It has rules. Strict ones.
Count-Outs are quicker and more costly in that it will cost you the match AND the title.
Disqualifications will cost you the title, which means if you have enemies, this will be their time to strike.
One Rope Break.
Heh...
You know, in all honesty, that should be the rule that makes me cringe the most. One Rope Break. If I'm locked in a submission and I want free, I can only grab that rope once for an escape. After that, I better have a way out or I'm not going anywhere. The person who's got me can tweak, tear, and break my bones as he or she sees fit.
So as previously stated, this is not an easy match to just up and win. You do need skill. You need talent. Quick reflexes. Eyes in the back of your head.
You do need to have ideals such as honor, respect, and dignity because you will not win this match without them.
Most importantly though?
Heart.
Above ALL else, you need heart to win this match.
Heart to get back on your own two feet when you're face down on the concrete floor outside of the ring. If someone has you on the outside, you better damn well be willing to get your ass up and get inside that ring just to beat the count, even if it means you're going to take that much more of a beating. That beating is better than losing, and I would much rather take a beating than lose.
Heart to not break, even if your bones cannot bend anymore and whats left of your will wants to tap, or God forbid, grab that rope. If you're in a submission hold, you better not grab that rope. You better just escape or fight the pain. Anything to save that rope break for just one more submission. One more hold that you might get stuck in that could finally be the one that makes you want to quit.
Heart for both you and your opponent, and the drive that it takes to keep going in this match. If you see another guy coming down ready to blast your opponent, you are HONORBOUND to defend him. Even if it means that your opponent will take advantage of it and you will have to survive another volley of whatever he may have left, you cannot let someone else do your work. Letting them do that only robs you and your opponent of that clean, honorable win.
This is the match that forces you to dig deep, to actually see just how much you have left to fight with. It will make you search for every avenue of pure and honorable victory that there is. This match will push you to be the best fighter than you can be. The best warrior.
The best, period.
The funny thing about being called “the best” is that there is always going to be someone out there that doubts it. There's always someone who believes that they deserve what you have and that the only reason you have it right at this moment is because you're ducking them, or you got lucky, or you're just keeping it warm as though it's a title in transition.
Inevitably, it will come down to that one fateful moment where it becomes put up or shut up. Walking the walk. One of the two parties proving that what they have to say is exactly right. In that moment, you really have to dig for everything you have to prove that you are exactly as advertised. That you are the best. You will have to defend your honor.
I've done it at least once.
You've failed to do so one-hundred times, Joe.
What's one more between the both of us?
+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+
”Mr. Carvetti?”
(I blinked twice. I was a bit spaced out in my own little self-monologue induced world and I lost track of where I was. I'm sitting in a chair in a quiet press room. I'm sitting on a couch, rubbing my eyes and trying to catch myself. She's dressed rather formally. She identified herself as one of the media correspondents of the nCw website who just wanted to ask me a few questions... at least right until I zoned out.)
”Oh, uh.. yeah?”
(She sighed and shook her head at me, a tad frustrated. She had brown hair tied back into a bun. A nice business blouse covering her body and coming down to her knees. Also, glasses. Typical black rimmed that you'd see on your resident hipster girl, which I suppose fits because she could definitely double as a hipster chick. Cute definitely, I'll give her that.)
”Your relationship with Ms. Marshall? How is it?”
”Uhm... It's good. It's actually really good. Definitely a fun relationship. She keeps me lively and she's very caring. Without her, my mindset would probably be train all day, everyday, living up to my Boring Ander moniker... and I'd probably get myself super burnt out on the job.”
”Fair enough...”
(Her tone of voice reflected that of an irritated New Englander. It seems I had been giving her all of the wrong answers for this interview. Perhaps I'm still just as boring as I believed I was.)
”Now, when you won the Honor Championship last month, you did it with a submission referred to among Brazilian Jiu Jitsu specialists as a “Kimura,” yes?”
(I sighed and nodded...)
”Yes. A Kimura armlock. It's referred to among catch-wrestling specialists as a double-arm wristlock. It can put a lot of strain on the shoulder and elbow, resulting in a potential tap-out. What about it?”
”Well, you pride yourself on being a strict stand-up specialist. Some would go so far as to say that with your victory over Falcon, you've become the best pure stand-up striker in this company. Why the sudden change?”
(I shrugged and chuckled a little bit. She did not seem so amused...)
”Years ago, I actually did put a focus on learning the submission game. I ended up becoming pretty good with that armlock. Enough that some commentators in another company that has long since closed started marketing it as my “Kimura Deathlock.” It was really the only submission I truly excelled with. Mainly, I ended up learning enough to defend myself when being in a bad spot. Beyond that, I genuinely do prefer sticking to my bread and butter which is my striking...”
(I let out a short yawn and slid my hand to my chin, somewhat reflecting on the “Deathlock.” I hadn't done it in at least 3 years. Funny though that both times that I've pulled it out, it has been out of desperation, there's been a belt on the line, and that I've won with it...)
”If nothing else though, it shows that I'm more than a one trick pony. I am capable of making someone tap if the situation arises.”
”Hmmm... and let us speak of the man that you successfully used it on, Doctor Jonas Potter. Word is that he's searching for a rematch and he's even gained the support of other athletes such as Jimmy Zane. Your thoughts?”
(I remembered hearing about this last week. Potter wanted another shot. Zane felt I was honor bound to give it to him. You'd the think the two were in cahoots, or the same person, or something...)
”What do you want me to say? I agree, he should get a rematch. I'm not ducking him. On the other hand, Joe Everyman won the Number One contender's match at Road to the Gold. Since he was the next in line, he deserved the next crack.”
”So when do you feel Potter should get his chance?”
(I shrugged again. It was an irritating question, to be honest...)
”Honestly, that's not my decision to make. I'm not the bookers. I don't duck my opponents, but I don't pick them either. I fight whomever stands across from me. If it's Potter, I'll fight him. If it's Everyman, I'll fight him. Hell, throw me in there with Xander if I'm deemed so worthy. I'm not a coward. I'll fight whomever...”
”I see...”
”Personally though?”
(With that statement, I saw her slightly perk up and tilt her head. I don't think she was anticipating this...)
”I did kind of tap Potter out. Let that sink in for a moment. I tapped someone out. That was the first time in three years I've tapped someone out. I am the least submission apt person in this company. If I am tapping you out, then you probably had a retard moment in the middle of that ring, and you probably deserved to lose, and you should probably prove that you're capable of not getting submitted by anyone before we cross paths again.”
(Her jaw dropped ever so slightly. I think that's the most emotion I've shown towards someone not named Amy Marshall in some time now.)
”But what do I know? I'm just a guy who kicks people. I'm not the matchmaker here.”
(I smirked and shrugged as she took a sigh of her own.)
”Fair enough, Mr. Carvetti. Tell me, what are you thoughts on Joe Everyman? You two have fought before, after all.”
(My smirk quickly turned into a grin. This was what we all wanted right here. The rematch if you will...)
”Yeah, we did. It gained match of the week honors. At the end of the day though, I knocked Joe out. Since then, I've went on to become the Honor Champion and he's gone on to become the first nCw athlete to reach one-hundred losses. Then again, I could lose to him and be known as the guy who lost to Joe Everyman, holder of a hundred losses. I guess I should try not to do that, huh?
(My responses were definitely grating on her. She jotted that down, shook her head, and sighed...)
”Okay then...”
(...And to be honest, I've kind of had enough anyway. I stood up and began to walk out of the room. She quickly caught notice.)
”Mr. Carvetti? Where are you going?”
”Miss, it's clear that I'm not giving you the interview that you want and I don't really have plans to. I think I'm just going to save us both the time and walk away now. I'm sure Joe Everyman has a much better sound byte than I do anyway. Go talk to him.”
(I put my hand on the door-knob and began to turn it. Quickly, she piped up again.)
”Sir?”
”Yes?”
(With my back turned, I heard her sigh. I could detect the agitation almost immediately...)
”You are the most boring interview that I've ever had. There's no way I can use this.”
(I grinned and let out a small chuckle.)
”And may I say that if you had bothered to check, you'd have known that my twitter name is “@boringander” and that one of my many nicknames is “Mr. No Charisma.” I've also been called dull by Andrew Jacobsen.”
(I opened the door and stepped out, but not before finishing with...)
”But I figured you would have known that.”
God knows, everyone else does.
+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+
Joe, I'm going to make a few things clear here just so I can get it out of the way and never have to worry about it again.
I'm not going to make fun of your family, or your friends, or your relationships that are as interesting as I am. Consider all of them off the table.
I'm also plainly aware that I'm a terrible wrestler, that watching paint dry is a roller coaster compared to my promo work and that I would be lucky to have one promo that gets a quarter of the laughter that a Steve Awesome or Rob Diamond promo would get, and that my girlfriend was a porn star and has had infinitely more partners than I have.
I'm okay with all of that. These are not things I lose sleep over. I do not care about them in the least so you can do yourself a favor and save it. It doesn't hold any weight with me. You probably won't even get my attention with it.
What does hold weight with me is this notion you have that you're going to beat me this week at Breaking Away.
That does get my attention.
You made it perfectly clear at the beginning of this month that you were going to do whatever you could to get this belt off of me, especially if it meant wearing me down to the bone. This was your particular goal in our tag match. You were going to let me get my ass kicked and then you were going to save the day, or at least that's how you planned it.
Of course, that week just goes to show that nothing ever quite goes to plan.
I kicked you in the head for the second time in your life, but I got pinned by Jason Evans for the second time in my career and I have to be honest when I say that doesn't really sit well with me.
Really. The two hour hot shower and crying myself to sleep was awful. Ask Amy. She had to hold me all night and re-affirm to me that I was a real man. Worst night ever.
Come to think of it though, minus knocking out JackHammer, this whole month hasn't really sat well with me. I'd venture to say that this whole month has been a wash thus far.
In fact, to break even...
I have to beat you.
Again.
Of course there's a little more at stake this time around. Before it was merely a matter of redemption, especially after having had to deal with Blood Ties last year. I had to rebound from that loss, and I did...
...At your personal expense.
Which was funny in and of itself, because I recall you getting a nice mock-up done of me looking battered, beaten, and ripped to shreds. It was supposed to be a rendition of what you were going to do to me in that match.
Last I recall, I walked out looking decent enough, but who's to say this time around?
So, this time around... well, redemption is on the plate. I've kind of sucked it up this month. But if only that were the case...
See there's also this whole Honor Championship which I've already grown kind of fond of. I'd prefer not to lose it on my first defense. Unfortunately, history doesn't back me on this one because the first time I defended the tag titles, I lost them.
Having learned from the mistake though of carrying around a 210 lbs, coked out, alcoholic with arrogance issues, that shouldn't be an issue. This one is on me, and I should be okay...
Maybe. Again, who's to say?
Sigh...
You know what? I can't do this today. I don't have the patience to sit here and try to cast a sense of doubt and suspense on myself that I might just lose against you so as to give myself a sense of underdog appeal.
Joe, I'm not going to lose to you because it's you. I'm not going to LET MYSELF lose. I have a little bit more self-respect than that. You are the guy in this company that somehow managed to make it to ONE-HUNDRED LOSSES.
Seriously. Three digits. I'm not sure Steve Awesome has screwed one-hundred women over the course of this year...
Okay, he probably has, but the point stands.
You have lost more than ANYONE in this company. I can't even joke about how many times you've managed to drop the ball around here. I don't have the time. I don't want to spend that much time going over your failures. I'm not interested.
Still, despite that, no matter how many times you get dropped, you keep coming back with the same confidence that you will pull out a win. That you will win the one match that will change your fortunes and you'll be on top of this company like you feel you deserve.
And you know what? I don't know whether I should respect you for that never say die attitude, pity you for the delusions of grandeur you have, or mock you for just continually showing up, being the whipping boy, and trying to lie to yourself about it. You keep coming back, but at this point, what the hell for?
I realize in Joe Everyman-Land, you're a champion already and you're going to set the world ablaze, but it's time to face reality and unfortunately for you, it's a cold and harsh one.
You aren't going to win this match. You didn't have it in you before and you don't have it now. You never did. This match was over the minute I tapped out Potter.
You have nothing to compare with me. You can't compare to me. I actually win and I have the hardware to prove it. You'll talk a big game about how you're different this time, or how you're better than your record would dictate, but we all know how this ends. Your accomplishments, as few and far between as they already are, are overshadowed by your failures. This isn't going to be any different.
Hell, for sure Joe, you might just bring the fight to me. You might make me struggle and actually earn this one. You might leave me a mess in that ring. Hell, you might just leave me without a leg to stand on, as you so aptly said two weeks ago.
That's okay.
Eventually Joe, you'll roll over and die, and I will crawl over your body, and you will lose once more. Just like always.
Just like you have over one-hundred times before.
+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+
You know, up until this exact moment, I haven't really talked about what this championship means to me. This title that is supposed to represent honor, respect, dignity...
Ideals that aren't always followed.
Let me make something clear. An Honor match is not an easy match to just up and win. It has rules. Strict ones.
Count-Outs are quicker and more costly in that it will cost you the match AND the title.
Disqualifications will cost you the title, which means if you have enemies, this will be their time to strike.
One Rope Break.
Heh...
You know, in all honesty, that should be the rule that makes me cringe the most. One Rope Break. If I'm locked in a submission and I want free, I can only grab that rope once for an escape. After that, I better have a way out or I'm not going anywhere. The person who's got me can tweak, tear, and break my bones as he or she sees fit.
So as previously stated, this is not an easy match to just up and win. You do need skill. You need talent. Quick reflexes. Eyes in the back of your head.
You do need to have ideals such as honor, respect, and dignity because you will not win this match without them.
Most importantly though?
Heart.
Above ALL else, you need heart to win this match.
Heart to get back on your own two feet when you're face down on the concrete floor outside of the ring. If someone has you on the outside, you better damn well be willing to get your ass up and get inside that ring just to beat the count, even if it means you're going to take that much more of a beating. That beating is better than losing, and I would much rather take a beating than lose.
Heart to not break, even if your bones cannot bend anymore and whats left of your will wants to tap, or God forbid, grab that rope. If you're in a submission hold, you better not grab that rope. You better just escape or fight the pain. Anything to save that rope break for just one more submission. One more hold that you might get stuck in that could finally be the one that makes you want to quit.
Heart for both you and your opponent, and the drive that it takes to keep going in this match. If you see another guy coming down ready to blast your opponent, you are HONORBOUND to defend him. Even if it means that your opponent will take advantage of it and you will have to survive another volley of whatever he may have left, you cannot let someone else do your work. Letting them do that only robs you and your opponent of that clean, honorable win.
This is the match that forces you to dig deep, to actually see just how much you have left to fight with. It will make you search for every avenue of pure and honorable victory that there is. This match will push you to be the best fighter than you can be. The best warrior.
The best, period.
The funny thing about being called “the best” is that there is always going to be someone out there that doubts it. There's always someone who believes that they deserve what you have and that the only reason you have it right at this moment is because you're ducking them, or you got lucky, or you're just keeping it warm as though it's a title in transition.
Inevitably, it will come down to that one fateful moment where it becomes put up or shut up. Walking the walk. One of the two parties proving that what they have to say is exactly right. In that moment, you really have to dig for everything you have to prove that you are exactly as advertised. That you are the best. You will have to defend your honor.
I've done it at least once.
You've failed to do so one-hundred times, Joe.
What's one more between the both of us?
+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+
”Mr. Carvetti?”
(I blinked twice. I was a bit spaced out in my own little self-monologue induced world and I lost track of where I was. I'm sitting in a chair in a quiet press room. I'm sitting on a couch, rubbing my eyes and trying to catch myself. She's dressed rather formally. She identified herself as one of the media correspondents of the nCw website who just wanted to ask me a few questions... at least right until I zoned out.)
”Oh, uh.. yeah?”
(She sighed and shook her head at me, a tad frustrated. She had brown hair tied back into a bun. A nice business blouse covering her body and coming down to her knees. Also, glasses. Typical black rimmed that you'd see on your resident hipster girl, which I suppose fits because she could definitely double as a hipster chick. Cute definitely, I'll give her that.)
”Your relationship with Ms. Marshall? How is it?”
”Uhm... It's good. It's actually really good. Definitely a fun relationship. She keeps me lively and she's very caring. Without her, my mindset would probably be train all day, everyday, living up to my Boring Ander moniker... and I'd probably get myself super burnt out on the job.”
”Fair enough...”
(Her tone of voice reflected that of an irritated New Englander. It seems I had been giving her all of the wrong answers for this interview. Perhaps I'm still just as boring as I believed I was.)
”Now, when you won the Honor Championship last month, you did it with a submission referred to among Brazilian Jiu Jitsu specialists as a “Kimura,” yes?”
(I sighed and nodded...)
”Yes. A Kimura armlock. It's referred to among catch-wrestling specialists as a double-arm wristlock. It can put a lot of strain on the shoulder and elbow, resulting in a potential tap-out. What about it?”
”Well, you pride yourself on being a strict stand-up specialist. Some would go so far as to say that with your victory over Falcon, you've become the best pure stand-up striker in this company. Why the sudden change?”
(I shrugged and chuckled a little bit. She did not seem so amused...)
”Years ago, I actually did put a focus on learning the submission game. I ended up becoming pretty good with that armlock. Enough that some commentators in another company that has long since closed started marketing it as my “Kimura Deathlock.” It was really the only submission I truly excelled with. Mainly, I ended up learning enough to defend myself when being in a bad spot. Beyond that, I genuinely do prefer sticking to my bread and butter which is my striking...”
(I let out a short yawn and slid my hand to my chin, somewhat reflecting on the “Deathlock.” I hadn't done it in at least 3 years. Funny though that both times that I've pulled it out, it has been out of desperation, there's been a belt on the line, and that I've won with it...)
”If nothing else though, it shows that I'm more than a one trick pony. I am capable of making someone tap if the situation arises.”
”Hmmm... and let us speak of the man that you successfully used it on, Doctor Jonas Potter. Word is that he's searching for a rematch and he's even gained the support of other athletes such as Jimmy Zane. Your thoughts?”
(I remembered hearing about this last week. Potter wanted another shot. Zane felt I was honor bound to give it to him. You'd the think the two were in cahoots, or the same person, or something...)
”What do you want me to say? I agree, he should get a rematch. I'm not ducking him. On the other hand, Joe Everyman won the Number One contender's match at Road to the Gold. Since he was the next in line, he deserved the next crack.”
”So when do you feel Potter should get his chance?”
(I shrugged again. It was an irritating question, to be honest...)
”Honestly, that's not my decision to make. I'm not the bookers. I don't duck my opponents, but I don't pick them either. I fight whomever stands across from me. If it's Potter, I'll fight him. If it's Everyman, I'll fight him. Hell, throw me in there with Xander if I'm deemed so worthy. I'm not a coward. I'll fight whomever...”
”I see...”
”Personally though?”
(With that statement, I saw her slightly perk up and tilt her head. I don't think she was anticipating this...)
”I did kind of tap Potter out. Let that sink in for a moment. I tapped someone out. That was the first time in three years I've tapped someone out. I am the least submission apt person in this company. If I am tapping you out, then you probably had a retard moment in the middle of that ring, and you probably deserved to lose, and you should probably prove that you're capable of not getting submitted by anyone before we cross paths again.”
(Her jaw dropped ever so slightly. I think that's the most emotion I've shown towards someone not named Amy Marshall in some time now.)
”But what do I know? I'm just a guy who kicks people. I'm not the matchmaker here.”
(I smirked and shrugged as she took a sigh of her own.)
”Fair enough, Mr. Carvetti. Tell me, what are you thoughts on Joe Everyman? You two have fought before, after all.”
(My smirk quickly turned into a grin. This was what we all wanted right here. The rematch if you will...)
”Yeah, we did. It gained match of the week honors. At the end of the day though, I knocked Joe out. Since then, I've went on to become the Honor Champion and he's gone on to become the first nCw athlete to reach one-hundred losses. Then again, I could lose to him and be known as the guy who lost to Joe Everyman, holder of a hundred losses. I guess I should try not to do that, huh?
(My responses were definitely grating on her. She jotted that down, shook her head, and sighed...)
”Okay then...”
(...And to be honest, I've kind of had enough anyway. I stood up and began to walk out of the room. She quickly caught notice.)
”Mr. Carvetti? Where are you going?”
”Miss, it's clear that I'm not giving you the interview that you want and I don't really have plans to. I think I'm just going to save us both the time and walk away now. I'm sure Joe Everyman has a much better sound byte than I do anyway. Go talk to him.”
(I put my hand on the door-knob and began to turn it. Quickly, she piped up again.)
”Sir?”
”Yes?”
(With my back turned, I heard her sigh. I could detect the agitation almost immediately...)
”You are the most boring interview that I've ever had. There's no way I can use this.”
(I grinned and let out a small chuckle.)
”And may I say that if you had bothered to check, you'd have known that my twitter name is “@boringander” and that one of my many nicknames is “Mr. No Charisma.” I've also been called dull by Andrew Jacobsen.”
(I opened the door and stepped out, but not before finishing with...)
”But I figured you would have known that.”
God knows, everyone else does.
+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+
Joe, I'm going to make a few things clear here just so I can get it out of the way and never have to worry about it again.
I'm not going to make fun of your family, or your friends, or your relationships that are as interesting as I am. Consider all of them off the table.
I'm also plainly aware that I'm a terrible wrestler, that watching paint dry is a roller coaster compared to my promo work and that I would be lucky to have one promo that gets a quarter of the laughter that a Steve Awesome or Rob Diamond promo would get, and that my girlfriend was a porn star and has had infinitely more partners than I have.
I'm okay with all of that. These are not things I lose sleep over. I do not care about them in the least so you can do yourself a favor and save it. It doesn't hold any weight with me. You probably won't even get my attention with it.
What does hold weight with me is this notion you have that you're going to beat me this week at Breaking Away.
That does get my attention.
You made it perfectly clear at the beginning of this month that you were going to do whatever you could to get this belt off of me, especially if it meant wearing me down to the bone. This was your particular goal in our tag match. You were going to let me get my ass kicked and then you were going to save the day, or at least that's how you planned it.
Of course, that week just goes to show that nothing ever quite goes to plan.
I kicked you in the head for the second time in your life, but I got pinned by Jason Evans for the second time in my career and I have to be honest when I say that doesn't really sit well with me.
Really. The two hour hot shower and crying myself to sleep was awful. Ask Amy. She had to hold me all night and re-affirm to me that I was a real man. Worst night ever.
Come to think of it though, minus knocking out JackHammer, this whole month hasn't really sat well with me. I'd venture to say that this whole month has been a wash thus far.
In fact, to break even...
I have to beat you.
Again.
Of course there's a little more at stake this time around. Before it was merely a matter of redemption, especially after having had to deal with Blood Ties last year. I had to rebound from that loss, and I did...
...At your personal expense.
Which was funny in and of itself, because I recall you getting a nice mock-up done of me looking battered, beaten, and ripped to shreds. It was supposed to be a rendition of what you were going to do to me in that match.
Last I recall, I walked out looking decent enough, but who's to say this time around?
So, this time around... well, redemption is on the plate. I've kind of sucked it up this month. But if only that were the case...
See there's also this whole Honor Championship which I've already grown kind of fond of. I'd prefer not to lose it on my first defense. Unfortunately, history doesn't back me on this one because the first time I defended the tag titles, I lost them.
Having learned from the mistake though of carrying around a 210 lbs, coked out, alcoholic with arrogance issues, that shouldn't be an issue. This one is on me, and I should be okay...
Maybe. Again, who's to say?
Sigh...
You know what? I can't do this today. I don't have the patience to sit here and try to cast a sense of doubt and suspense on myself that I might just lose against you so as to give myself a sense of underdog appeal.
Joe, I'm not going to lose to you because it's you. I'm not going to LET MYSELF lose. I have a little bit more self-respect than that. You are the guy in this company that somehow managed to make it to ONE-HUNDRED LOSSES.
Seriously. Three digits. I'm not sure Steve Awesome has screwed one-hundred women over the course of this year...
Okay, he probably has, but the point stands.
You have lost more than ANYONE in this company. I can't even joke about how many times you've managed to drop the ball around here. I don't have the time. I don't want to spend that much time going over your failures. I'm not interested.
Still, despite that, no matter how many times you get dropped, you keep coming back with the same confidence that you will pull out a win. That you will win the one match that will change your fortunes and you'll be on top of this company like you feel you deserve.
And you know what? I don't know whether I should respect you for that never say die attitude, pity you for the delusions of grandeur you have, or mock you for just continually showing up, being the whipping boy, and trying to lie to yourself about it. You keep coming back, but at this point, what the hell for?
I realize in Joe Everyman-Land, you're a champion already and you're going to set the world ablaze, but it's time to face reality and unfortunately for you, it's a cold and harsh one.
You aren't going to win this match. You didn't have it in you before and you don't have it now. You never did. This match was over the minute I tapped out Potter.
You have nothing to compare with me. You can't compare to me. I actually win and I have the hardware to prove it. You'll talk a big game about how you're different this time, or how you're better than your record would dictate, but we all know how this ends. Your accomplishments, as few and far between as they already are, are overshadowed by your failures. This isn't going to be any different.
Hell, for sure Joe, you might just bring the fight to me. You might make me struggle and actually earn this one. You might leave me a mess in that ring. Hell, you might just leave me without a leg to stand on, as you so aptly said two weeks ago.
That's okay.
Eventually Joe, you'll roll over and die, and I will crawl over your body, and you will lose once more. Just like always.
Just like you have over one-hundred times before.
