Post by Deleted on Jun 17, 2012 0:36:41 GMT -6
You know what Ricky, I have to thank you.
After listening to what you had to say you made realise that I literally have absolutely nothing to lose.
No matter what I say, you’ve got an answer for it. If I answer your criticisms then I am pandering to your mind games and have already lost the battle. If I ignore them then I haven’t got an answer and I am covering them up with enough verbal razzle dazzle to distract the feeble minded from the realities of your stinging assessments in a desperate bid to ensure everybody ignores my glaring insufficiencies. If I get angry then I have allowed you to get under my skin and upset my unstoppable rhythm. If I remain calm then I am simply hiding my aggression in an attempt to try and prove you wrong.
You’ve covered every possible eventuality so well that it almost becomes irrelevant what I say to you now, no matter what you’ve got my number and you’ve pretty much made sure that whatever I say you can explain away or undermine, even if it contradicts anything you’ve said in the recent past.
Yet what should feel like a burden feels quite the opposite. I feel remarkably relaxed considering I am about go into the biggest match of my career.
I needn’t digress my innumerable virtues, because for every single one of them you have a vice. I needn’t defend myself, because to do so is to pander to your baited insults. I literally have no need to go through with the same old charade every other title challenger has to bother with because you’ve weaved your magic once again to render anything I have to say obsolete.
Because that is what you do, isn’t it Ricky?
You declare to the world that you are here to peddle the truth, yet beneath all the glitz and glamour lies a withered old wretch, plagued with treachery and deceit. Nothing about you is genuine, you can say one thing and then moments later you can say quite the opposite, but you do it in such a manner that people don’t see right through your hollow words and instead they lap it up like a calf suckles its mother’s teat.
One minute I shouldn’t be anywhere near the title scene, the next I am on a yearlong tear and fully deserve to be there because it no longer suits your argument to declare me an unworthy opponent, indeed now I am the clear favourite.
Nothing about you is quite what it seems, your arguments serve only one purpose and that is to ensure that you may render your opponents words meaningless when you return fire. You weave a matted web of contradictions that almost become believable enough that those who deem it fit to listen to you start to think that what you are saying is real, perhaps even tangible.
Yet I see you for what you are Ricky.
A fraud.
You construct these meticulously planned arguments and you deliver them to a tee, safe in the knowledge that regardless of what your opponent says in response you can quite easily contradict them even if it is at the expense of your own previous comments because you’re well aware that you will elicit a big enough response to ensure everybody forgets what you said previously as they will merely focus on the infuriated ramblings of your victim as they try to dissect through you inane ramblings.
You set the bait and you throw your opponent off their game because you know that sprinkling enough inaccuracies amongst your heavily biased facts will draw them out of their comfort zone in an attempt to correct these fallacies, almost lending enough weight to these mistruths that they become believable. You attack their integrity with just enough facts to draw them into an argument to disprove the inflammatory elements so that they appear to have lost their composure.
Perhaps it worked the first time Ricky, but it won’t work this time.
You can plant juicy little temptations like defending your ability to do your background research then claiming I am fighting for the “U.K. way” despite being Italian, spending your first promo declaring me unfit to be in contention then backing me as outright favourite days later and then re-writing history to portray me as Kelly Knite’s white knight because you know it will elicit a response whilst remaining believable enough to pass as a structured argument, but I am not going to indulge you in this game of cat and mouse you employ on a weekly basis anymore.
I’ve seen what you do and perhaps I was a little naïve to engage you in the same tepid verbal transactions you involve yourself in every week knowing full well that when you responded you’d have an answer for everything and a method of making me look quite the fool.
I underestimated you Ricky, I genuinely thought that you would drop the charade for your big swan song, but it seems you intend to go out the way you started, a deceitful old trickster whose sole purpose is not to win an argument, merely to confuse it enough to disrupt the crux of your opponent’s.
I will, however, give you credit where it is due. You do what you do very well, you execute your little pitfalls perfectly and you even managed to draw me into a ridiculous little argument I could never possibly win without damaging my own momentum in the process to deviate down a path to directly respond to your critiques. You have managed to create a very believable illusion where you are the underdog and I am the unstoppable force of nature, you’ve created a wonderful scenario where if I win we all expected it, and if I lose well good old Ricky Johnson overcame everything.
Congratulations Ricky, despite preparing myself to avoid your little mind games even I managed to become a partial victim to them. I obviously expected too much from you when I hoped you’d drop you parlour tricks in your twilight hour, perhaps now I can sympathise with your feelings of disappointment.
Since arguing with you is clearly a rather fruitless endeavour Ricky, I am actually going to agree with you for once.
I shouldn’t be wasting my time arguing with you over meaningless inaccuracies that you planted with a rather transparent agenda to get under my skin, because all I have done is played right into your hands despite preparing myself to avoid such eventualities and once again instead of this being about me, it has become all about you.
And that is exactly how you want it, isn’t it Ricky?
All of this is about Ricky Johnson. No matter how much you want to create elaborate excuses to make yourself appear either indifferent to defeat or the David to my Goliath, you’re only talking yourself down so that when you achieve your triumphant victory over the bit-part player Verona you can talk yourself up as a true champion who won despite the impossible odds stacked against him.
Everywhere I look, I see your face staring back at me. Every single promotional poster has “The First Ever Grand Slam Champion” plastered across it whilst my name becomes almost an afterthought. You’ve spent so much time trying to make me doubt myself that I have also talked myself into the inadequacy I was so determined to avoid.
By allowing myself to get bogged down in a debate with you about whether I really deserve to be here or not I have effectively become what I have declared I am not.
Just a part of the set for Ricky Johnson’s finest hour.
I’ve become so sick of people trying to take credit for my success that I have fallen into the transparent traps you set for me. If it isn’t you proclaiming you opened the door for me it is Jake Conway trying to claim that he started my rise to the top and instead of relegating that to the recycling bin in my mind I’ve allowed it to eat away at my pride.
Despite knowing full well that I achieved an accolade far greater than any other man in this company this year when I pinned Xander Famularo, I’ve allowed people like you to undermine that achievement for your own ends and been dragged into a mindless defence when the accolade stands for itself.
After so many months of personal attacks, it appears that when I should be preparing for the greatest night of my life I’ve allowed self-doubt to become my bed fellow at the worst possible moment, all in the interest of protecting my personal integrity despite knowing deep down inside that every single criticism you levied at me had little foundation in reality, they were merely planted to destabilise me.
You’re right Ricky, I’m better than this….. I’m better than you.
This entire weekend has been built up as the final act in the great career of Ricky Johnson, when in actual fact it should be equally billed as the night Roberto Verona finally transcends from being a “potential champion” into being an actual champion. Rather than allowing myself to slink away out of the spotlight even further, I’m going to start doing what I should have been doing from the very beginning.
Believing in my own ability and ignoring your parlour tricks.
For all your mind games Ricky, they are only as effective as I allow them to be. By engaging you in conversation for another half an hour I was only going to cement myself as the sideshow without realising it before it was too late.
The reality is that perhaps I really should be the favourite to walk out of Reborn with that title. I defeated Xander Famularo, the most dominant man in NCW and I earned my shot at immortality. I have proven myself fit to be champion by earning this shot the most difficult way possible and now all I need do is snatch this opportunity and I will finally have achieve all of my dreams.
I shouldn’t need to engage you in an endlessly circular debate.
I shouldn’t pander to your every whim.
I shouldn’t allow myself to stray from my true path.
It has taken me a long time to reach this junction and getting one over you verbally will never make up for failing to do my talking in the only place that truly matters.
Inside that very ring.
Whilst arguing with you is certainly a lesson in futility Ricky, it reminds me that the reason I’m here on Sunday isn’t solely for myself. Whilst I have little desire to continue burying myself into insignificance in comparison to the Ricky Johnson show, I cannot simply ignore my motivations out of frustration and whilst this once again plays into your desire to become the arbiter of my response, I mustn’t walk into this weekend without reminding myself of what this is all about.
I set out with a very clearly defined goal in mind, and that was to become the NCW World Champion not only for myself, but for everybody else. I have never shied away from the idea that the World Title is the symbol of this company and the many whose waist it occupies by default represents and embodies this company.
I wanted….no, needed to become the focal point of this company to ensure that my mission was not in vain.
And I still do need to beat you for that very reason Ricky. I won’t pretend ruining your moment won’t make me feel oh so very warm inside considering the way you conduct yourself, but ultimately this is bigger than me.
If you walk out of that door with that title the very integrity that holds and everything it stands for goes with it.
That title symbolises who is the very best in NCW today and the moment you run on home to Roxi, suddenly it becomes homeless. Everything it once stood for suddenly is thrown into turmoil simply to satisfy your personal greed to hog the spotlight one last time.
You’re treating that belt with the same contempt you treated the National Championship all those months ago. To you it is nothing but an accessory, but to me it is everything.
It symbolises that you are the man.
It’s an honour to be NCW World Champion, and as much as you want to portray me as some joke of a champion should I defeat you, the reality is that these are nothing but the musings of a bitter old man whose only concerns are his own. Whilst you are content to milk you moment when you pinned the most glorified jobber in history, I am planning to build a legacy.
That belt means more to me than an ego boost.
So whilst I may have been naïve enough to perhaps allow you to win the war of words at times this week in a fruitless desire to “protect my brand”, I will be doing everything in my power to ensure that I do not lose the one battle that will determine this titles fate and if I do, that I don’t do so because I’ve become another victim to the sirens that populate you words, enticing me to my own demise.
I will do everything it takes to become World Champion and if I should fail, then I want to know that my failure wasn’t in vain, and that by my example I can prove that whilst you are happy to use that championship as a prop in your grand hurrah there are men inside this company who are willing to go any length to wrap that gold around their waists.
NCW was here before you and it will still be here after you’ve gone and so will the World Championship.
Yet it shouldn’t fall into disrepute to satisfy your ego Johnson, I cannot allow this belt to be contested in a throwaway tournament simply to suit your retirement schedule. It is time to become the “unstoppable force” you so elegantly labelled me as and to shove your web of deceit down your throat.
Even if this is exactly what you wanted to hear.
What is there left to say?
I haven’t the desire to patronise you Ricky by wishing you good luck, nor do I have the energy to insult the intelligence of everybody watching at home by declaring that I will miss you when you are gone.
Fact is Ricky, I don’t like you.
I may be happy to see you walk out of here with your health intact, but that doesn’t mean I care for you all that much. Every time you open your mouth I can’t erase the disingenuous hypocrisy that you peddle on a weekly basis as you constantly contradict yourself to cover all possible eventualities. You are, and always will be, a peddler of the finest brand of bull**** this side of the Atlantic and quite frankly the fact I won’t have to listen to you make up excuses or utter barefaced lies to try and get one over your opponents on a weekly basis is a blessing, not a curse.
You may, or may not care, and frankly why should you?
This vomit inducing succession of handshakes and emotional embraces at the end of seemingly every single title defence of the past two or three months are meaningless displays of affection which project this image of a group of men and women who, deep down, all like one another.
What is wrong with one of us disliking the other, or even both?
I didn’t become a professional wrestler to make friends, I became a professional wrestler to make a difference and be remembered as an icon of my craft. When I called Xander Famularo a corrupt disappointment I wasn’t playing for the cameras and when I told Todd Williams that he was an emotionally fragile pussy whipped wreck I meant every single word of it. I am not here to pretend to respect people to protect their fragile self-esteem, if I think you’re a jerkoff I will tell you you’re a jerkoff.
And you Ricky are the most sanctimonious self-centered asshole I have ever met in my life.
Yet, and here is the point of all this, I may not like you as a person and show you the contempt you deserve as a result but inside that ring, when I think about some of the most talented people in professional wrestling today, you better bet your ass that when I write those names down in a list the name Ricky Johnson is on there.
That is what separates me from the fawning mass of sycophants who are kissing your ass now you’ve decided to call it a day. I can separate how I feel about Ricky Johnson the man and Ricky Johnson the performer and whilst there are many who would tell you that they are one in the same, they are wrong.
This whole façade you project in your promos evaporates when you get inside that ring, replaced by a demeanour that is all business.
Despite spending most of your time declaring that the National Championship was nothing but a mere inconvenience to you when we last collided when you came down to the ring suddenly all that verbal bravado dissipated and in its place was a man who pulled out every trick in the book to put me away and walk out with a belt he told everybody meant nothing to him.
That is the difference between the persona you portray on screen and the wrestler you are inside that ring.
Despite all you say before a match, when that bell rings it’s as if all of the crap you spout suddenly ceases to exist. Perhaps your mind games are all part of the battle, planting doubt in your opponents mind before the match even starts, but regardless when it does you are all business.
I respect that.
Regardless of what has transpired between us this week Ricky, I am looking forward to competing with you for the World Championship. I’ve no interest in earning a pity reign by putting away a substandard opponent simply to plump up my title count, I want to fight the best the business has to offer. Whether you want to tell everybody out there that my victory will be hollow, deep down Ricky you know that if the shoe was on the other foot you would be proud to beat a man of your calibre, regardless of the circumstances.
That belt around your waist is the pinnacle of this business. Some of the greatest ever wrestlers have had their name etched across the front of that championship and now you’ve joined a list of immortals.
The desire to join you will always push men to bring the very best out of themselves and this weekend will be no different. I will do everything it takes to become the next NCW World Champion and once it is done, I may not shake your hand, I may not join the capacity crowd in thanking you for everything you’ve done for this business and I may still not like you, but when I walk back through that curtain I will take an iconic memory with me.
We needn’t possess an affinity with one another to create history together.
For the rest of my life I will look back at nights like these and I will thank God that I had to opportunity to test myself against men like you, Adam Knite, Xander Famularo, Falcon, Spike Kane and Steve Awesome.
I will never be ashamed of this accomplishment, no matter how much you try and taint this weekend because when all is said and done, people will not remember Reborn 2012 because of your swansong or my perceived undeserved title shot.
They will remember when two of the very best in history locked horns for the biggest prize of all.
They will remember our legacy.
After listening to what you had to say you made realise that I literally have absolutely nothing to lose.
No matter what I say, you’ve got an answer for it. If I answer your criticisms then I am pandering to your mind games and have already lost the battle. If I ignore them then I haven’t got an answer and I am covering them up with enough verbal razzle dazzle to distract the feeble minded from the realities of your stinging assessments in a desperate bid to ensure everybody ignores my glaring insufficiencies. If I get angry then I have allowed you to get under my skin and upset my unstoppable rhythm. If I remain calm then I am simply hiding my aggression in an attempt to try and prove you wrong.
You’ve covered every possible eventuality so well that it almost becomes irrelevant what I say to you now, no matter what you’ve got my number and you’ve pretty much made sure that whatever I say you can explain away or undermine, even if it contradicts anything you’ve said in the recent past.
Yet what should feel like a burden feels quite the opposite. I feel remarkably relaxed considering I am about go into the biggest match of my career.
I needn’t digress my innumerable virtues, because for every single one of them you have a vice. I needn’t defend myself, because to do so is to pander to your baited insults. I literally have no need to go through with the same old charade every other title challenger has to bother with because you’ve weaved your magic once again to render anything I have to say obsolete.
Because that is what you do, isn’t it Ricky?
You declare to the world that you are here to peddle the truth, yet beneath all the glitz and glamour lies a withered old wretch, plagued with treachery and deceit. Nothing about you is genuine, you can say one thing and then moments later you can say quite the opposite, but you do it in such a manner that people don’t see right through your hollow words and instead they lap it up like a calf suckles its mother’s teat.
One minute I shouldn’t be anywhere near the title scene, the next I am on a yearlong tear and fully deserve to be there because it no longer suits your argument to declare me an unworthy opponent, indeed now I am the clear favourite.
Nothing about you is quite what it seems, your arguments serve only one purpose and that is to ensure that you may render your opponents words meaningless when you return fire. You weave a matted web of contradictions that almost become believable enough that those who deem it fit to listen to you start to think that what you are saying is real, perhaps even tangible.
Yet I see you for what you are Ricky.
A fraud.
You construct these meticulously planned arguments and you deliver them to a tee, safe in the knowledge that regardless of what your opponent says in response you can quite easily contradict them even if it is at the expense of your own previous comments because you’re well aware that you will elicit a big enough response to ensure everybody forgets what you said previously as they will merely focus on the infuriated ramblings of your victim as they try to dissect through you inane ramblings.
You set the bait and you throw your opponent off their game because you know that sprinkling enough inaccuracies amongst your heavily biased facts will draw them out of their comfort zone in an attempt to correct these fallacies, almost lending enough weight to these mistruths that they become believable. You attack their integrity with just enough facts to draw them into an argument to disprove the inflammatory elements so that they appear to have lost their composure.
Perhaps it worked the first time Ricky, but it won’t work this time.
You can plant juicy little temptations like defending your ability to do your background research then claiming I am fighting for the “U.K. way” despite being Italian, spending your first promo declaring me unfit to be in contention then backing me as outright favourite days later and then re-writing history to portray me as Kelly Knite’s white knight because you know it will elicit a response whilst remaining believable enough to pass as a structured argument, but I am not going to indulge you in this game of cat and mouse you employ on a weekly basis anymore.
I’ve seen what you do and perhaps I was a little naïve to engage you in the same tepid verbal transactions you involve yourself in every week knowing full well that when you responded you’d have an answer for everything and a method of making me look quite the fool.
I underestimated you Ricky, I genuinely thought that you would drop the charade for your big swan song, but it seems you intend to go out the way you started, a deceitful old trickster whose sole purpose is not to win an argument, merely to confuse it enough to disrupt the crux of your opponent’s.
I will, however, give you credit where it is due. You do what you do very well, you execute your little pitfalls perfectly and you even managed to draw me into a ridiculous little argument I could never possibly win without damaging my own momentum in the process to deviate down a path to directly respond to your critiques. You have managed to create a very believable illusion where you are the underdog and I am the unstoppable force of nature, you’ve created a wonderful scenario where if I win we all expected it, and if I lose well good old Ricky Johnson overcame everything.
Congratulations Ricky, despite preparing myself to avoid your little mind games even I managed to become a partial victim to them. I obviously expected too much from you when I hoped you’d drop you parlour tricks in your twilight hour, perhaps now I can sympathise with your feelings of disappointment.
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There was a time when I believed that there was no more corrupt profession than the legal profession.
Then I followed him into the world of professional wrestling.
Everywhere I look I see fake smiles and hollow gestures in a land of wasteful morals and selfish greed.
He convinces himself that he is speaking for an oppressed mass.
But what if those who are suppressed deserve to be so?
What if they do not deserve to be helped?
-------------------------------------------------------------------
There was a time when I believed that there was no more corrupt profession than the legal profession.
Then I followed him into the world of professional wrestling.
Everywhere I look I see fake smiles and hollow gestures in a land of wasteful morals and selfish greed.
He convinces himself that he is speaking for an oppressed mass.
But what if those who are suppressed deserve to be so?
What if they do not deserve to be helped?
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Since arguing with you is clearly a rather fruitless endeavour Ricky, I am actually going to agree with you for once.
I shouldn’t be wasting my time arguing with you over meaningless inaccuracies that you planted with a rather transparent agenda to get under my skin, because all I have done is played right into your hands despite preparing myself to avoid such eventualities and once again instead of this being about me, it has become all about you.
And that is exactly how you want it, isn’t it Ricky?
All of this is about Ricky Johnson. No matter how much you want to create elaborate excuses to make yourself appear either indifferent to defeat or the David to my Goliath, you’re only talking yourself down so that when you achieve your triumphant victory over the bit-part player Verona you can talk yourself up as a true champion who won despite the impossible odds stacked against him.
Everywhere I look, I see your face staring back at me. Every single promotional poster has “The First Ever Grand Slam Champion” plastered across it whilst my name becomes almost an afterthought. You’ve spent so much time trying to make me doubt myself that I have also talked myself into the inadequacy I was so determined to avoid.
By allowing myself to get bogged down in a debate with you about whether I really deserve to be here or not I have effectively become what I have declared I am not.
Just a part of the set for Ricky Johnson’s finest hour.
I’ve become so sick of people trying to take credit for my success that I have fallen into the transparent traps you set for me. If it isn’t you proclaiming you opened the door for me it is Jake Conway trying to claim that he started my rise to the top and instead of relegating that to the recycling bin in my mind I’ve allowed it to eat away at my pride.
Despite knowing full well that I achieved an accolade far greater than any other man in this company this year when I pinned Xander Famularo, I’ve allowed people like you to undermine that achievement for your own ends and been dragged into a mindless defence when the accolade stands for itself.
After so many months of personal attacks, it appears that when I should be preparing for the greatest night of my life I’ve allowed self-doubt to become my bed fellow at the worst possible moment, all in the interest of protecting my personal integrity despite knowing deep down inside that every single criticism you levied at me had little foundation in reality, they were merely planted to destabilise me.
You’re right Ricky, I’m better than this….. I’m better than you.
This entire weekend has been built up as the final act in the great career of Ricky Johnson, when in actual fact it should be equally billed as the night Roberto Verona finally transcends from being a “potential champion” into being an actual champion. Rather than allowing myself to slink away out of the spotlight even further, I’m going to start doing what I should have been doing from the very beginning.
Believing in my own ability and ignoring your parlour tricks.
For all your mind games Ricky, they are only as effective as I allow them to be. By engaging you in conversation for another half an hour I was only going to cement myself as the sideshow without realising it before it was too late.
The reality is that perhaps I really should be the favourite to walk out of Reborn with that title. I defeated Xander Famularo, the most dominant man in NCW and I earned my shot at immortality. I have proven myself fit to be champion by earning this shot the most difficult way possible and now all I need do is snatch this opportunity and I will finally have achieve all of my dreams.
I shouldn’t need to engage you in an endlessly circular debate.
I shouldn’t pander to your every whim.
I shouldn’t allow myself to stray from my true path.
It has taken me a long time to reach this junction and getting one over you verbally will never make up for failing to do my talking in the only place that truly matters.
Inside that very ring.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Fighting for those whom you love has always been praised as a virtue, yet I realise where this road will take me.
I will be hated, despised and castigated as a she-wolf, a jezebel and a whore.
Yet I cannot shy away from a goal because it is unpalatable.
I would give my life for him and I fear he would give his life for them.
It is time he saw exactly who it is he is fighting for.
Then he can decide if they are still worth saving.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Fighting for those whom you love has always been praised as a virtue, yet I realise where this road will take me.
I will be hated, despised and castigated as a she-wolf, a jezebel and a whore.
Yet I cannot shy away from a goal because it is unpalatable.
I would give my life for him and I fear he would give his life for them.
It is time he saw exactly who it is he is fighting for.
Then he can decide if they are still worth saving.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Whilst arguing with you is certainly a lesson in futility Ricky, it reminds me that the reason I’m here on Sunday isn’t solely for myself. Whilst I have little desire to continue burying myself into insignificance in comparison to the Ricky Johnson show, I cannot simply ignore my motivations out of frustration and whilst this once again plays into your desire to become the arbiter of my response, I mustn’t walk into this weekend without reminding myself of what this is all about.
I set out with a very clearly defined goal in mind, and that was to become the NCW World Champion not only for myself, but for everybody else. I have never shied away from the idea that the World Title is the symbol of this company and the many whose waist it occupies by default represents and embodies this company.
I wanted….no, needed to become the focal point of this company to ensure that my mission was not in vain.
And I still do need to beat you for that very reason Ricky. I won’t pretend ruining your moment won’t make me feel oh so very warm inside considering the way you conduct yourself, but ultimately this is bigger than me.
If you walk out of that door with that title the very integrity that holds and everything it stands for goes with it.
That title symbolises who is the very best in NCW today and the moment you run on home to Roxi, suddenly it becomes homeless. Everything it once stood for suddenly is thrown into turmoil simply to satisfy your personal greed to hog the spotlight one last time.
You’re treating that belt with the same contempt you treated the National Championship all those months ago. To you it is nothing but an accessory, but to me it is everything.
It symbolises that you are the man.
It’s an honour to be NCW World Champion, and as much as you want to portray me as some joke of a champion should I defeat you, the reality is that these are nothing but the musings of a bitter old man whose only concerns are his own. Whilst you are content to milk you moment when you pinned the most glorified jobber in history, I am planning to build a legacy.
That belt means more to me than an ego boost.
So whilst I may have been naïve enough to perhaps allow you to win the war of words at times this week in a fruitless desire to “protect my brand”, I will be doing everything in my power to ensure that I do not lose the one battle that will determine this titles fate and if I do, that I don’t do so because I’ve become another victim to the sirens that populate you words, enticing me to my own demise.
I will do everything it takes to become World Champion and if I should fail, then I want to know that my failure wasn’t in vain, and that by my example I can prove that whilst you are happy to use that championship as a prop in your grand hurrah there are men inside this company who are willing to go any length to wrap that gold around their waists.
NCW was here before you and it will still be here after you’ve gone and so will the World Championship.
Yet it shouldn’t fall into disrepute to satisfy your ego Johnson, I cannot allow this belt to be contested in a throwaway tournament simply to suit your retirement schedule. It is time to become the “unstoppable force” you so elegantly labelled me as and to shove your web of deceit down your throat.
Even if this is exactly what you wanted to hear.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
There comes a time in everyone’s life when they must assess whether the path they have tread was the right one.
A moment of clarity.
I shared his dream of a more noble world where people were rewarded for talent and their health held in the highest regard by their employer.
Yet my eyes have been opened.
You cannot help the selfish whose only interests are self-preservation at the expense of the majority.
I once was blind, but now I see.
And sooner or later, so will he.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
There comes a time in everyone’s life when they must assess whether the path they have tread was the right one.
A moment of clarity.
I shared his dream of a more noble world where people were rewarded for talent and their health held in the highest regard by their employer.
Yet my eyes have been opened.
You cannot help the selfish whose only interests are self-preservation at the expense of the majority.
I once was blind, but now I see.
And sooner or later, so will he.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
What is there left to say?
I haven’t the desire to patronise you Ricky by wishing you good luck, nor do I have the energy to insult the intelligence of everybody watching at home by declaring that I will miss you when you are gone.
Fact is Ricky, I don’t like you.
I may be happy to see you walk out of here with your health intact, but that doesn’t mean I care for you all that much. Every time you open your mouth I can’t erase the disingenuous hypocrisy that you peddle on a weekly basis as you constantly contradict yourself to cover all possible eventualities. You are, and always will be, a peddler of the finest brand of bull**** this side of the Atlantic and quite frankly the fact I won’t have to listen to you make up excuses or utter barefaced lies to try and get one over your opponents on a weekly basis is a blessing, not a curse.
You may, or may not care, and frankly why should you?
This vomit inducing succession of handshakes and emotional embraces at the end of seemingly every single title defence of the past two or three months are meaningless displays of affection which project this image of a group of men and women who, deep down, all like one another.
What is wrong with one of us disliking the other, or even both?
I didn’t become a professional wrestler to make friends, I became a professional wrestler to make a difference and be remembered as an icon of my craft. When I called Xander Famularo a corrupt disappointment I wasn’t playing for the cameras and when I told Todd Williams that he was an emotionally fragile pussy whipped wreck I meant every single word of it. I am not here to pretend to respect people to protect their fragile self-esteem, if I think you’re a jerkoff I will tell you you’re a jerkoff.
And you Ricky are the most sanctimonious self-centered asshole I have ever met in my life.
Yet, and here is the point of all this, I may not like you as a person and show you the contempt you deserve as a result but inside that ring, when I think about some of the most talented people in professional wrestling today, you better bet your ass that when I write those names down in a list the name Ricky Johnson is on there.
That is what separates me from the fawning mass of sycophants who are kissing your ass now you’ve decided to call it a day. I can separate how I feel about Ricky Johnson the man and Ricky Johnson the performer and whilst there are many who would tell you that they are one in the same, they are wrong.
This whole façade you project in your promos evaporates when you get inside that ring, replaced by a demeanour that is all business.
Despite spending most of your time declaring that the National Championship was nothing but a mere inconvenience to you when we last collided when you came down to the ring suddenly all that verbal bravado dissipated and in its place was a man who pulled out every trick in the book to put me away and walk out with a belt he told everybody meant nothing to him.
That is the difference between the persona you portray on screen and the wrestler you are inside that ring.
Despite all you say before a match, when that bell rings it’s as if all of the crap you spout suddenly ceases to exist. Perhaps your mind games are all part of the battle, planting doubt in your opponents mind before the match even starts, but regardless when it does you are all business.
I respect that.
Regardless of what has transpired between us this week Ricky, I am looking forward to competing with you for the World Championship. I’ve no interest in earning a pity reign by putting away a substandard opponent simply to plump up my title count, I want to fight the best the business has to offer. Whether you want to tell everybody out there that my victory will be hollow, deep down Ricky you know that if the shoe was on the other foot you would be proud to beat a man of your calibre, regardless of the circumstances.
That belt around your waist is the pinnacle of this business. Some of the greatest ever wrestlers have had their name etched across the front of that championship and now you’ve joined a list of immortals.
The desire to join you will always push men to bring the very best out of themselves and this weekend will be no different. I will do everything it takes to become the next NCW World Champion and once it is done, I may not shake your hand, I may not join the capacity crowd in thanking you for everything you’ve done for this business and I may still not like you, but when I walk back through that curtain I will take an iconic memory with me.
We needn’t possess an affinity with one another to create history together.
For the rest of my life I will look back at nights like these and I will thank God that I had to opportunity to test myself against men like you, Adam Knite, Xander Famularo, Falcon, Spike Kane and Steve Awesome.
I will never be ashamed of this accomplishment, no matter how much you try and taint this weekend because when all is said and done, people will not remember Reborn 2012 because of your swansong or my perceived undeserved title shot.
They will remember when two of the very best in history locked horns for the biggest prize of all.
They will remember our legacy.
