Post by Mike Laszlo on Nov 30, 2012 12:21:32 GMT -6
No.
No.
NO!
Please…
Anything but that.
Please don’t make me go through with it.
Don’t be so cruel to me.
Oh dear lord, what have I done to deserve such cruel punishment from the owner of this company?
Alright, I’m done. Wait…maybe not.
WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!?!?
Okay, now I’m done. Do you know why I’m done? I’m done because I can no longer sit here and say any of that with a straight face. This is my punishment? Really?
A match with Roberto Verona, with the World Heavyweight Title on the line…Falls Count Anywhere!
Do you understand what that means people? That means that I can beat the hell out of Roberto Verona all around the arena, and when I get sick of that, I can carry him through the crowd, and beat him up in the concessions area, and then, if I feel like it, I can take it out of the arena, drag his beaten ass to the airport, throw him in a plane, and as we’re flying to my home city of Cleveland, beat him some more, eventually take him to my house, and pin him in the backyard and win the NCW World Heavyweight Title.
Now I’m not going to do all of that because it would be very time consuming. The part that I will do, and I’m as serious as a heart attack when I say this, is the ending. In the end, you will be looking at the next NCW World Heavyweight Champion.
Throw all the hatred out the window, and with it, toss the humor as well.
Things just got real serious.
Take the opponent out of it and the emotion that surrounds him.
This is it.
This is the one thing that anyone who puts their information on an application here in NCW dreams about. This is why they fill out that application. This is why they throw their name in the hat. This is why no matter where they are on the card, they fight to impress. They do their best to appeal to the people, good or bad, and they work their asses off to impress the brass enough to the point of trust that they can be put in this position.
This is why I turned in my application.
It’s all politics, but ten percent is hard work, and in my case, five percent of it was pissing off the right person. Kelly could have easily said no to Roberto when he chose to face me one on one this Sunday, but she didn’t. She won’t openly admit it, but I’ve done everything I can to impress her to the point of putting me in this position, and it has worked. So, the eighty-five percent is taken care of. Then there was the hard work, which has also been put in.
A year ago, I was still fighting to keep my job in this company and since then I went on to do things that have gone down in the history of this company, some of which will never be duplicated. Now?
Well, now I’ve pissed off Verona to the point where he essentially challenged me to a match for his World Heavyweight Title. He came out a few weeks ago and busted me in the forehead with a steel chair that not only gashed me open, but also gave me a concussion, then said, “I CHOOSE YOU!” Then I wanted my revenge, and two weeks in a row, I was unable to attain it because every time I took a shot, he slithered out of the situation and got away. This Sunday at Breaking Away Roberto, you can run…but I can follow; and follow I will.
So hindsight being twenty-twenty and all, I’m glad you got away Berto. I’m glad because now you are one hundred percent, not a scratch on you so that when you get beat Sunday by me, for a third time out of four tries, there won’t be one excuse for you to fall back on.
====================
Title: Protective Big Brother (Putting the Foot Down)
Location: Cleveland, Ohio
Time: 1:19 PM Eastern Standard Time
After the events of last week I feel as if I owe you a little bit of background on my brother seeing as how he made such a crappy presentation of himself for Thanksgiving dinner. My brother, as I said last week, at first was a well-meaning man. After living with our grandparents a year after the death of our mother, Randy had been set back on the straight and narrow. He tried living with me and my uncle in California, but it was to no avail as he constantly got into trouble and lashed out at those who tried to put him in his place…as he does now. So as I lived in California for three years, he came back to Ohio and lived with our Grandparents. We both went on our separate ways and would speak to each other while I came to town, but other than that we weren’t exactly, how do I put it? Well, let’s just say close for now.
I went onto some college and eventually enrolled in wrestling school while he went on bouncing from job to job, as teenagers do. When I came back to Ohio with Sara, and moved back full-time, I bought into a few of the local gyms, eventually leading to the opening of my own gym of which I gave Randy a position at. He was good. He had met a girl who was a nurse at the local hospital, they were about to get married. Then about a year ago I noticed that things were going awry. Things just weren’t the same…not right.
He started showing up late and although he’s my brother, in the end I couldn’t let the bad example be set for the rest of the staff and I let him go. I found out then that he had traveled down the maligned path of our ignorant, may he rest in peace, father. Drugs, alcohol and gambling had all become a bad part of his life to the point where if he didn’t have or do one of these things, he didn’t want to live. He knew he had done wrong and he wanted help. That’s when I enrolled him into a local rehabilitation center. It seemed to have gone well. He came out four months ago and was ready to take on the world again.
So again, I let him work at my gym and slowly he began to rise through the ranks again to the point where I was ready to make him the manager so that he could take care of the situation when I wasn’t around. Then the same old habits crept back in. He was hanging with the same group of friends as before and I guess the old temptations just turned out to be too much for him to handle and eventually he gave in.
Again, at the point of me having to make the right business decision, I had to let him go again. I didn’t want to do it. I wanted to keep him their under my watchful eye, but in the end, it just had to be done.
After this last downfall that he is currently in, he lost his house. Then after the house, they moved into an apartment which I agreed, for him and his fiancé’s sake to pay the rent of while she worked to pay the other bills. He squandered that and in the end, his fiancé couldn’t take it anymore. She loved him for sure, but in the end she just couldn’t watch him throw his life away. She ended up giving him the ring back, of which he pawned for one of his vices, and she left. So now, he had to work to pay the bills, and that wasn’t happening. So a few weeks before Thanksgiving, I told him that he needs to find a job while they’re plentiful because of the holidays, get himself some money, and pay his bills or I was going to pay for his rent and that only.
Well, let’s just say that tough love isn’t exactly working. He is still into his old habits and needs help. Help that I can no longer provide. Kristy and I were sitting at lunch the other day and were discussing this exact topic.
Mike Laszlo: I can’t do it anymore. I just can’t. Not after what happened last week, that’s the final straw.
Kristy Mastrangelo: Trust me, I know. His behavior was out of line and the way he takes you for granted has pissed me off for quite some time now.
Mike Laszlo: How do I get rid of this problem though? I can’t just drop him out of my life. He is my brother. I even kept tabs on my worthless father when he was alive and Randy isn’t anywhere near his level yet, but he’s well on his way.
Kristy Mastrangelo: Hmm. Offer to pay for him to go to a rehabilitation program again. This time though, make sure that the program is a stricter one that’s going to isolate him from the guys he is hanging with. They’re the bad influences. He was doing fine until he hooked up with them again.
Mike Laszlo: I know. If I could just punch each and every one of them right in the face…I totally would.
The two of us finish our meal, pay for the check and stand from our seats.
Kristy Mastrangelo: I’ll even go with you if you want.
The two of us walk around the table and hug.
Mike Laszlo: Thank you for always being there for me no matter the circumstance.
Kristy Mastrangelo: That’s what best friends are for hellllloooo.
Mike Laszlo: No, I mean it. Every single time that I’ve ever had a problem, I know that I can come to you and you’re there…and there’s usually an answer waiting, and when there’s not, at least you listen.
Kristy Mastrangelo: It’s no problemo, you do the same for me.
Mike Laszlo: Need a ride?
Kristy Mastrangelo: Um, duh! You brought me here.
Mike Laszlo: I know.
She shakes her head at me sarcastically, basically calling me a goofball, which from time to time has been known to be true. Now comes the hard part though…intervention…AGAIN!
A HALF HOUR LATER.
Rather than wait, I figured the best course of action was to simply get this over with. Kristy had agreed to come with me, and it was time to say what had to be said to what at this moment has become a complete and utter waste of space…my own brother.
The ride to his place too us right into downtown Cleveland, as I figured there was a rehabilitation center nearby and maybe passing it every so often would make him think. Again, I was wrong. So now? Now it’s time to make the decision for him.
We go to enter the parking garage and head up to the third level where we finally find a parking spot. As we enter the building we head to the elevator and go up to the top floor of the building where some of the nicer apartments were. We head down the hall about four door and stop in front of my brothers door where I proceed to pound on the door. I could hear him rustling around inside and pounded again.
Mike Laszlo: Randy, open up. It’s me and Kristy.
Again I could hear him moving around inside before I could faintly here his voice from within.
Randy Laszlo: One second. Jesus Christ!
Mike Laszlo: Quit hiding your crap and let’s go.
Randy Laszlo: I SAID ONE SECOND!
Eventually he gets to the door and opens it. The smell from within was disgusting and hit you like a ton of bricks as soon as the door was even cracked. It was enough to cause both Kristy and myself to turn away for a second to become adjusted.
Kristy Mastrangelo: What the hell is that smell?
Randy Laszlo: (Looking back into his apartment.) It’s um…uh…nothing.
As he utters those words, he walks out into the hallway and closes the door behind him.
Randy Laszlo: What’s this about? What do you want?
Mike Laszlo: I’m here to tell you that I’m done with all of this.
Randy Laszlo: All of what?
Mike Laszlo: Supporting you. I can’t do it anymore. I’m allowing you to be a piece of crap and it needs to stop.
Randy Laszlo: What? But…um…
Mike Laszlo: NO! No excuses. The last straw was Thanksgiving Night. What you did was pathetic and quite frankly made you look like the biggest asshole ever.
Randy Laszlo: I was drunk! What do you want!?
Mike Laszlo: EXACTLY! I want you to stop being a drunken asshole. I want you to stop hanging out with the so-called friends who get you trashed night in and night out. I want you to grow the hell up! So here’s what’s going to happen no matter you like it or not. Your rent is paid through the end of the year. You have one month to transfer into a rehab center and workout your issues and get your **** straight. After that, I don’t give a damn what you do unless you’re trying to get yourself back on track. No more money, no more food, no more shelter. You’ve never had to do a thing for yourself because you knew I would be there, and that has to end. You are twenty-two years old and you need to live on your own and support yourself.
Randy Laszlo: But…
Mike Laszlo: That’s the bottom line. That’s what I came here to say, and that’s what you needed to hear. Now you need to self-reflect and figure out what you’re going to do. The next phone call you give me, I want to hear these words…”sign me up.” If not, I don’t want to hear from you.
Before he even has a chance to respond, both Kristy and myself turn away and head down the hall back to the exit. I could hear him calling my name a few times but I simply ignored it as it was time for me to put my foot down and stomp I did!
====================
I must admit that at this point in time, not hearing from our champion yet has somewhat depressed me. I mean who doesn’t look forward to a long, boring, tiring Roberto Verona promo where he talks about no longer caring what the fans think. Who doesn’t look forward to hearing about how he defeated Xander Famularo when there was nobody else who could? Who doesn’t sit on the edge of their seat and watch intently as he talk about how when the stakes were highest, he beat me, and how my two victories over him really mean nothing?
I know I do…
NOT!
In the scheme of things Roberto, your victory over Xander means nothing. So you beat a guy who wasn’t beaten for the longest time…anyone can get hot on any given night and beat anyone. Much like your one victory over me. You got lucky, I didn’t. It’s that simple.
Then you talk about my victories over you meaning nothing but in reality Berto…you’re quite wrong. You see status-wise, they put NCW on notice. The first time, anyone could have said fluke. The second time? Well the second time let the NCW World know that I was for real. Victory number one wasn’t a fluke. Victory number one was a prelude. Now as in all good series, both sides need a win, and you finally got yours. The third time was the charm.
The third time started your ascent to winning the Road To The Gold, and eventually got you to where you are now. You can talk about how the stakes were high and how much that match truly meant, but again, in the end…it really meant nothing. Why do I say that?
Well look at where we are now. A month later and here I am, challenging you for the World Title. So all my loss in the Road to the Gold did was pro-long the inevitable. You chose me to challenge you because you say that you want to shut me up. The problem with your reasoning is that we all see through your devious little plan Berto. You didn’t pick me because you wanted to shut me up…at least that wasn’t the main reason. You picked me because I’m inside your head.
You can deny it all you want Verona, but the fact of the matter is, it bugs you that the score is Mike Laszlo two, our so-called savior one. It bugs you that I have been able to tout my success over you like no other has done before. Sure others have tried, but they never got under your skin like I have.
So I would like to know Berto…when Breaking Away has come and gone, and all the smoke has cleared. When the fogginess inside your head dissipates, and you come to the conclusion that after Breaking Away the score will be Mike Laszlo three, Roberto Verona one, and I am crowned the NEW World Heavyweight Champion…what will your excuse be? What random line of B.S. will you spew? What will happen when you realize that you can’t shut me up? What will happen when once more I prove to the masses that I am now and forever will be BETTER THAN YOU!?
No.
NO!
Please…
Anything but that.
Please don’t make me go through with it.
Don’t be so cruel to me.
Oh dear lord, what have I done to deserve such cruel punishment from the owner of this company?
Alright, I’m done. Wait…maybe not.
WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!?!?
Okay, now I’m done. Do you know why I’m done? I’m done because I can no longer sit here and say any of that with a straight face. This is my punishment? Really?
A match with Roberto Verona, with the World Heavyweight Title on the line…Falls Count Anywhere!
Do you understand what that means people? That means that I can beat the hell out of Roberto Verona all around the arena, and when I get sick of that, I can carry him through the crowd, and beat him up in the concessions area, and then, if I feel like it, I can take it out of the arena, drag his beaten ass to the airport, throw him in a plane, and as we’re flying to my home city of Cleveland, beat him some more, eventually take him to my house, and pin him in the backyard and win the NCW World Heavyweight Title.
Now I’m not going to do all of that because it would be very time consuming. The part that I will do, and I’m as serious as a heart attack when I say this, is the ending. In the end, you will be looking at the next NCW World Heavyweight Champion.
Throw all the hatred out the window, and with it, toss the humor as well.
Things just got real serious.
Take the opponent out of it and the emotion that surrounds him.
This is it.
This is the one thing that anyone who puts their information on an application here in NCW dreams about. This is why they fill out that application. This is why they throw their name in the hat. This is why no matter where they are on the card, they fight to impress. They do their best to appeal to the people, good or bad, and they work their asses off to impress the brass enough to the point of trust that they can be put in this position.
This is why I turned in my application.
It’s all politics, but ten percent is hard work, and in my case, five percent of it was pissing off the right person. Kelly could have easily said no to Roberto when he chose to face me one on one this Sunday, but she didn’t. She won’t openly admit it, but I’ve done everything I can to impress her to the point of putting me in this position, and it has worked. So, the eighty-five percent is taken care of. Then there was the hard work, which has also been put in.
A year ago, I was still fighting to keep my job in this company and since then I went on to do things that have gone down in the history of this company, some of which will never be duplicated. Now?
Well, now I’ve pissed off Verona to the point where he essentially challenged me to a match for his World Heavyweight Title. He came out a few weeks ago and busted me in the forehead with a steel chair that not only gashed me open, but also gave me a concussion, then said, “I CHOOSE YOU!” Then I wanted my revenge, and two weeks in a row, I was unable to attain it because every time I took a shot, he slithered out of the situation and got away. This Sunday at Breaking Away Roberto, you can run…but I can follow; and follow I will.
So hindsight being twenty-twenty and all, I’m glad you got away Berto. I’m glad because now you are one hundred percent, not a scratch on you so that when you get beat Sunday by me, for a third time out of four tries, there won’t be one excuse for you to fall back on.
====================
Title: Protective Big Brother (Putting the Foot Down)
Location: Cleveland, Ohio
Time: 1:19 PM Eastern Standard Time
After the events of last week I feel as if I owe you a little bit of background on my brother seeing as how he made such a crappy presentation of himself for Thanksgiving dinner. My brother, as I said last week, at first was a well-meaning man. After living with our grandparents a year after the death of our mother, Randy had been set back on the straight and narrow. He tried living with me and my uncle in California, but it was to no avail as he constantly got into trouble and lashed out at those who tried to put him in his place…as he does now. So as I lived in California for three years, he came back to Ohio and lived with our Grandparents. We both went on our separate ways and would speak to each other while I came to town, but other than that we weren’t exactly, how do I put it? Well, let’s just say close for now.
I went onto some college and eventually enrolled in wrestling school while he went on bouncing from job to job, as teenagers do. When I came back to Ohio with Sara, and moved back full-time, I bought into a few of the local gyms, eventually leading to the opening of my own gym of which I gave Randy a position at. He was good. He had met a girl who was a nurse at the local hospital, they were about to get married. Then about a year ago I noticed that things were going awry. Things just weren’t the same…not right.
He started showing up late and although he’s my brother, in the end I couldn’t let the bad example be set for the rest of the staff and I let him go. I found out then that he had traveled down the maligned path of our ignorant, may he rest in peace, father. Drugs, alcohol and gambling had all become a bad part of his life to the point where if he didn’t have or do one of these things, he didn’t want to live. He knew he had done wrong and he wanted help. That’s when I enrolled him into a local rehabilitation center. It seemed to have gone well. He came out four months ago and was ready to take on the world again.
So again, I let him work at my gym and slowly he began to rise through the ranks again to the point where I was ready to make him the manager so that he could take care of the situation when I wasn’t around. Then the same old habits crept back in. He was hanging with the same group of friends as before and I guess the old temptations just turned out to be too much for him to handle and eventually he gave in.
Again, at the point of me having to make the right business decision, I had to let him go again. I didn’t want to do it. I wanted to keep him their under my watchful eye, but in the end, it just had to be done.
After this last downfall that he is currently in, he lost his house. Then after the house, they moved into an apartment which I agreed, for him and his fiancé’s sake to pay the rent of while she worked to pay the other bills. He squandered that and in the end, his fiancé couldn’t take it anymore. She loved him for sure, but in the end she just couldn’t watch him throw his life away. She ended up giving him the ring back, of which he pawned for one of his vices, and she left. So now, he had to work to pay the bills, and that wasn’t happening. So a few weeks before Thanksgiving, I told him that he needs to find a job while they’re plentiful because of the holidays, get himself some money, and pay his bills or I was going to pay for his rent and that only.
Well, let’s just say that tough love isn’t exactly working. He is still into his old habits and needs help. Help that I can no longer provide. Kristy and I were sitting at lunch the other day and were discussing this exact topic.
Mike Laszlo: I can’t do it anymore. I just can’t. Not after what happened last week, that’s the final straw.
Kristy Mastrangelo: Trust me, I know. His behavior was out of line and the way he takes you for granted has pissed me off for quite some time now.
Mike Laszlo: How do I get rid of this problem though? I can’t just drop him out of my life. He is my brother. I even kept tabs on my worthless father when he was alive and Randy isn’t anywhere near his level yet, but he’s well on his way.
Kristy Mastrangelo: Hmm. Offer to pay for him to go to a rehabilitation program again. This time though, make sure that the program is a stricter one that’s going to isolate him from the guys he is hanging with. They’re the bad influences. He was doing fine until he hooked up with them again.
Mike Laszlo: I know. If I could just punch each and every one of them right in the face…I totally would.
The two of us finish our meal, pay for the check and stand from our seats.
Kristy Mastrangelo: I’ll even go with you if you want.
The two of us walk around the table and hug.
Mike Laszlo: Thank you for always being there for me no matter the circumstance.
Kristy Mastrangelo: That’s what best friends are for hellllloooo.
Mike Laszlo: No, I mean it. Every single time that I’ve ever had a problem, I know that I can come to you and you’re there…and there’s usually an answer waiting, and when there’s not, at least you listen.
Kristy Mastrangelo: It’s no problemo, you do the same for me.
Mike Laszlo: Need a ride?
Kristy Mastrangelo: Um, duh! You brought me here.
Mike Laszlo: I know.
She shakes her head at me sarcastically, basically calling me a goofball, which from time to time has been known to be true. Now comes the hard part though…intervention…AGAIN!
A HALF HOUR LATER.
Rather than wait, I figured the best course of action was to simply get this over with. Kristy had agreed to come with me, and it was time to say what had to be said to what at this moment has become a complete and utter waste of space…my own brother.
The ride to his place too us right into downtown Cleveland, as I figured there was a rehabilitation center nearby and maybe passing it every so often would make him think. Again, I was wrong. So now? Now it’s time to make the decision for him.
We go to enter the parking garage and head up to the third level where we finally find a parking spot. As we enter the building we head to the elevator and go up to the top floor of the building where some of the nicer apartments were. We head down the hall about four door and stop in front of my brothers door where I proceed to pound on the door. I could hear him rustling around inside and pounded again.
Mike Laszlo: Randy, open up. It’s me and Kristy.
Again I could hear him moving around inside before I could faintly here his voice from within.
Randy Laszlo: One second. Jesus Christ!
Mike Laszlo: Quit hiding your crap and let’s go.
Randy Laszlo: I SAID ONE SECOND!
Eventually he gets to the door and opens it. The smell from within was disgusting and hit you like a ton of bricks as soon as the door was even cracked. It was enough to cause both Kristy and myself to turn away for a second to become adjusted.
Kristy Mastrangelo: What the hell is that smell?
Randy Laszlo: (Looking back into his apartment.) It’s um…uh…nothing.
As he utters those words, he walks out into the hallway and closes the door behind him.
Randy Laszlo: What’s this about? What do you want?
Mike Laszlo: I’m here to tell you that I’m done with all of this.
Randy Laszlo: All of what?
Mike Laszlo: Supporting you. I can’t do it anymore. I’m allowing you to be a piece of crap and it needs to stop.
Randy Laszlo: What? But…um…
Mike Laszlo: NO! No excuses. The last straw was Thanksgiving Night. What you did was pathetic and quite frankly made you look like the biggest asshole ever.
Randy Laszlo: I was drunk! What do you want!?
Mike Laszlo: EXACTLY! I want you to stop being a drunken asshole. I want you to stop hanging out with the so-called friends who get you trashed night in and night out. I want you to grow the hell up! So here’s what’s going to happen no matter you like it or not. Your rent is paid through the end of the year. You have one month to transfer into a rehab center and workout your issues and get your **** straight. After that, I don’t give a damn what you do unless you’re trying to get yourself back on track. No more money, no more food, no more shelter. You’ve never had to do a thing for yourself because you knew I would be there, and that has to end. You are twenty-two years old and you need to live on your own and support yourself.
Randy Laszlo: But…
Mike Laszlo: That’s the bottom line. That’s what I came here to say, and that’s what you needed to hear. Now you need to self-reflect and figure out what you’re going to do. The next phone call you give me, I want to hear these words…”sign me up.” If not, I don’t want to hear from you.
Before he even has a chance to respond, both Kristy and myself turn away and head down the hall back to the exit. I could hear him calling my name a few times but I simply ignored it as it was time for me to put my foot down and stomp I did!
====================
I must admit that at this point in time, not hearing from our champion yet has somewhat depressed me. I mean who doesn’t look forward to a long, boring, tiring Roberto Verona promo where he talks about no longer caring what the fans think. Who doesn’t look forward to hearing about how he defeated Xander Famularo when there was nobody else who could? Who doesn’t sit on the edge of their seat and watch intently as he talk about how when the stakes were highest, he beat me, and how my two victories over him really mean nothing?
I know I do…
NOT!
In the scheme of things Roberto, your victory over Xander means nothing. So you beat a guy who wasn’t beaten for the longest time…anyone can get hot on any given night and beat anyone. Much like your one victory over me. You got lucky, I didn’t. It’s that simple.
Then you talk about my victories over you meaning nothing but in reality Berto…you’re quite wrong. You see status-wise, they put NCW on notice. The first time, anyone could have said fluke. The second time? Well the second time let the NCW World know that I was for real. Victory number one wasn’t a fluke. Victory number one was a prelude. Now as in all good series, both sides need a win, and you finally got yours. The third time was the charm.
The third time started your ascent to winning the Road To The Gold, and eventually got you to where you are now. You can talk about how the stakes were high and how much that match truly meant, but again, in the end…it really meant nothing. Why do I say that?
Well look at where we are now. A month later and here I am, challenging you for the World Title. So all my loss in the Road to the Gold did was pro-long the inevitable. You chose me to challenge you because you say that you want to shut me up. The problem with your reasoning is that we all see through your devious little plan Berto. You didn’t pick me because you wanted to shut me up…at least that wasn’t the main reason. You picked me because I’m inside your head.
You can deny it all you want Verona, but the fact of the matter is, it bugs you that the score is Mike Laszlo two, our so-called savior one. It bugs you that I have been able to tout my success over you like no other has done before. Sure others have tried, but they never got under your skin like I have.
So I would like to know Berto…when Breaking Away has come and gone, and all the smoke has cleared. When the fogginess inside your head dissipates, and you come to the conclusion that after Breaking Away the score will be Mike Laszlo three, Roberto Verona one, and I am crowned the NEW World Heavyweight Champion…what will your excuse be? What random line of B.S. will you spew? What will happen when you realize that you can’t shut me up? What will happen when once more I prove to the masses that I am now and forever will be BETTER THAN YOU!?
