Post by Mike Laszlo on Mar 29, 2013 23:25:32 GMT -6
There’s something wrong with my current situation.
When things are wrong, they need to be fixed so that everything is right with the world.
What’s wrong you ask?
Mike Laszlo is on a losing streak and I tell you all now, that that simple fact is purely and unequivocally UNACCEPTABLE!!
I lost the match at Crossroads and failed in my bid for the National Title. Then I get my brains smashed in by Joe Everyman, and then lose to that man the next week on Collision.
Joe Everyman is no slouch, this much can be said, but the fact is…I’m better than this and we all know it.
Then last week may have been the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. Last week was the moment that made me sit in a locker room for the first time in a while, stare at a mirror, and tilt my head to the side as I asked the reflection…”WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?”
Last week I lost to a man who thinks saying the phrase “Suck it!” is still cool. Do you know who says suck it Rob? Men in their forties who are trying to relive 1999. You know who else says it? Two lame morons who play the main characters on perhaps the absolute stupidest television show on the planet. And then there’s you. You caused the moment that made me ask that question of my reflection. You made me tap out in the center of that ring on Collision on my twenty-fifth birthday no less.
Happy birthday to me right?
Right.
For you see ladies and gentlemen, on that day, that very moment where my hand tapped out, I died. I gave up. That was it.
I broke down in that locker room as I stared into my own eyes and could find no answer for the question that still looms to this day, this very second.
WHO AM I!?
Am I the man who bantered back and forth with Roberto Verona for three months?
Am I the man who talked the talk but could never walk the walk and win the big one?
OR
Am I the man who beat the holy hell out of Verona for three months?
Am I the man who played mind games with the top man in this company for three months?
Am I the man who went through hell to get my name on the marquee, and keep it there?
I’m none of it.
This present day, this exact moment in time, I am ALL OF IT!
I am the man who can talk the talk with the best of them.
I am the one who when I hold a microphone, I have the audience both live and watching at home on the edge of their seats because they know that every word I speak is true, and yet they never know exactly what it is I’m going to say next.
I’m the one who steps through the ropes and does what nobody else in this company can ever do and that’s put on the absolute best show the wrestling community has ever seen because, yes, I’ve said it a lot, and I’ve come up short in proving it on many occasions, but I possess the talent to be the absolute best wrestler this company, hell this planet has ever seen.
I am the *** damn MAN who breaks out of a slump this Sunday by defeating three of the longest tenured members of this company.
I am the man who proves that he belongs not only in the Coliseum at Sovereign, but also the main event of A Night To Remember, again vying for and this time taking that World Heavyweight Championship.
I am MIKE LASZLO!
====================
Title: Who In The Blue Hell Are You? (Distractions Be Damned)
Location: Cleveland, Ohio
Time: 12:19 PM Eastern Standard Time
This whole thing with Caleb has gone way too far, and I don’t mean in the physical sense. I have yet to have seen the man since the convention where he busted out into that huge conniption fit. Physically there is no harm done. Mentally though, the words that the man spoke had echoed in my head for days and I tell you now, as is evident by my performances over the last couple of weeks, the words rang hollow and have been very distracting. Last week I lost to Rob Diamond, the man who still thinks “Suck it!” is cool. I can’t let this dwell…I WON’T let this dwell any longer.
As I sat at my dining room table in my house in Cleveland, on a nice fifty-two degree day, I sat there and stared at one of the local grocery store tabloids that had a picture of Caleb being dragged from the convention after his little outburst. I stared a hole right through that picture, his face in particular as I could hear the words that came from his lips over and over again in my head. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, but it was to no avail as I couldn’t remove the imagery from my mind. As I was in this trance-like state, I was unable to hear anything, including the knock at the door. Eventually, after the third time, Alexis had let herself in. She walked around the staircase and peeked into the dining room to see me sitting there with my eyes closed. She walked over and she could tell, I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. She placed her hand on my shoulder and shook me right out of the trance.
Alexis Caffrey: Mike.
I blinked not once, but twice as I shook my head, quickly snapping into reality.
Mike Laszlo: Huh? Who? (Looking up at Alexis.) Oh, hey.
Alexis Caffrey: What are you doing?
Mike Laszlo: Nothing.
She reaches down and snatches the paper from my hand.
Alexis Caffrey: And what is this?
Mike Laszlo: It’s noth…
She looked at the picture on the front page, and threw the paper to the ground.
Alexis Caffrey: What did I tell you?
Mike Laszlo: I…
Alexis Caffrey: Let that idiot go. We’ll probably never hear from him again, and if by some miracle we do…we’ll deal with it then. I’ve watched you at ringside for the last two weeks and you’ve looked disinterested and in the end, you’ve lost.
Mike Laszlo: I know. That changes this week.
Alexis Caffrey: Does it?
Mike Laszlo: Yes.
Alexis Caffrey: Are you sure?
Mike Laszlo: Yes.
Alexis Caffrey: Prove it.
As I was being called out by my own valet, a girl in her early twenties, who I could easily throw across the room, I pushed myself out from the table, reached down grabbing the tabloid, and proceeded to rip it in half.
Mike Laszlo: Screw this asshole. His words mean nothing, his actions, or lack thereof, even less. This Sunday, I get in that ring, and get back to doing what I do best.
Alexis Caffrey: Good. And what will you be proving this Sunday?
Mike Laszlo: That I am simply put…THE BEST…PERIOD!
The scene fades as the two of us head outside for our routine jog.
====================
Not to steal a catchphrase from a rival organization, but no words ring truer than these four words:
“It all begins again.”
This Sunday is a rebirth of sorts.
You won’t see the same man who doesn’t give a damn about the match.
You won’t see a man who is disinterested.
You won’t see me go through the motions.
You damn sure won’t see me tapping out to anybody’s submission moves no matter how painful they appear or actually are.
This Sunday you will see four men step inside that ring, each with something to prove.
Alex Jones, wants to prove that he belongs in the upper echelon of this company.
Joe Everyman wants to make good on his last opportunity.
Simon Daye wants to prove that he is more than just a useless commentator who rode Gib’s coattails to glory and a lengthy title reign.
I want to prove that the Mike Laszlo you all know and love is back and not only so, but with a vengeance. I’m done with the “respect” angle. I’m done touting the abilities of my opponents. I’m done with the Mr. Nice Guy routine.
Respect? Alex, you can respect each and every other person in this match. You can respect all we’ve accomplished, and you can respect the opinions of these people in the audience, but in the end, respect gets you nothing but a pat on the back and a thumbs up. Apparently, you haven’t learned this yet. The whole entire time you’ve been here, you’ve tried your hardest to put on the tough guy face, and act badass, but like every other attempt you’ve made at anything…it’s gotten you nowhere fast.
Maybe, just maybe Alex, it’s time for a new routine?
Then there’s Simon Daye. Mr. Coattails. He took his time with Gib and has put it to good use. After all, when you’re being trained by one of the legends of this company, hell, this business as a whole, you’re bound to pick up a few things right? Eventually, you get sick of the ridicule suffered as a backstage announcer, a mere step above stagehand, and you lash out. Then you trained and trained and trained some more, and yet still to this day, you’re nothing more than an arrogant punk who needs old man Gib to carry you to your victories. This Sunday Simon, there is no Gib. This Sunday you’re on your own. Can you cut it?
Last but not least, there’s my old buddy Joe Everyman. The man who two weeks ago pushed me down the spiral staircase by beating me in the center of that ring. This, the same Joe Everyman, who after our match at Crossroads drilled me in the head with a steel chair.
Yeah, that’s right Joe, I didn’t forget.
The same Joe Everyman, who will pay for his wrongs done against me.
I don’t forgive and I sure as hell don’t forget Joe. Every dog has his day and two weeks ago was yours. You took the momentum of those chair shots and parlayed it into a victory over yours truly and the old me would congratulate you. The old me would have called you the better man.
The new me?
What would I do?
I’d say that plain and simply; you got lucky.
You caught me on a bad day at an even worse time of the day. This Sunday live on Collision, I show you, I show Simon, and I show Alex, that there is a reason that I was the longest reigning X and Honor Champion in company history. I show you that it is not just my silver tongue but also my superior skill inside that squared-circle that got me where I am today.
This Sunday, Mike Laszlo is back with a vengeance, and I’m not speaking in third person out of arrogance, I just want you to know exactly what you’re dealing with. I am a man on a mission, and none of the three of you are going to stop me from making it to the Coliseum, winning, and then taking the World Title from whoever holds that shiny gold belt at A Night To Remember.
I am THE BEST…PERIOD!
This Sunday, you all experience it first-hand.
Enjoy.
When things are wrong, they need to be fixed so that everything is right with the world.
What’s wrong you ask?
Mike Laszlo is on a losing streak and I tell you all now, that that simple fact is purely and unequivocally UNACCEPTABLE!!
I lost the match at Crossroads and failed in my bid for the National Title. Then I get my brains smashed in by Joe Everyman, and then lose to that man the next week on Collision.
Joe Everyman is no slouch, this much can be said, but the fact is…I’m better than this and we all know it.
Then last week may have been the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. Last week was the moment that made me sit in a locker room for the first time in a while, stare at a mirror, and tilt my head to the side as I asked the reflection…”WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?”
Last week I lost to a man who thinks saying the phrase “Suck it!” is still cool. Do you know who says suck it Rob? Men in their forties who are trying to relive 1999. You know who else says it? Two lame morons who play the main characters on perhaps the absolute stupidest television show on the planet. And then there’s you. You caused the moment that made me ask that question of my reflection. You made me tap out in the center of that ring on Collision on my twenty-fifth birthday no less.
Happy birthday to me right?
Right.
For you see ladies and gentlemen, on that day, that very moment where my hand tapped out, I died. I gave up. That was it.
I broke down in that locker room as I stared into my own eyes and could find no answer for the question that still looms to this day, this very second.
WHO AM I!?
Am I the man who bantered back and forth with Roberto Verona for three months?
Am I the man who talked the talk but could never walk the walk and win the big one?
OR
Am I the man who beat the holy hell out of Verona for three months?
Am I the man who played mind games with the top man in this company for three months?
Am I the man who went through hell to get my name on the marquee, and keep it there?
I’m none of it.
This present day, this exact moment in time, I am ALL OF IT!
I am the man who can talk the talk with the best of them.
I am the one who when I hold a microphone, I have the audience both live and watching at home on the edge of their seats because they know that every word I speak is true, and yet they never know exactly what it is I’m going to say next.
I’m the one who steps through the ropes and does what nobody else in this company can ever do and that’s put on the absolute best show the wrestling community has ever seen because, yes, I’ve said it a lot, and I’ve come up short in proving it on many occasions, but I possess the talent to be the absolute best wrestler this company, hell this planet has ever seen.
I am the *** damn MAN who breaks out of a slump this Sunday by defeating three of the longest tenured members of this company.
I am the man who proves that he belongs not only in the Coliseum at Sovereign, but also the main event of A Night To Remember, again vying for and this time taking that World Heavyweight Championship.
I am MIKE LASZLO!
====================
Title: Who In The Blue Hell Are You? (Distractions Be Damned)
Location: Cleveland, Ohio
Time: 12:19 PM Eastern Standard Time
This whole thing with Caleb has gone way too far, and I don’t mean in the physical sense. I have yet to have seen the man since the convention where he busted out into that huge conniption fit. Physically there is no harm done. Mentally though, the words that the man spoke had echoed in my head for days and I tell you now, as is evident by my performances over the last couple of weeks, the words rang hollow and have been very distracting. Last week I lost to Rob Diamond, the man who still thinks “Suck it!” is cool. I can’t let this dwell…I WON’T let this dwell any longer.
As I sat at my dining room table in my house in Cleveland, on a nice fifty-two degree day, I sat there and stared at one of the local grocery store tabloids that had a picture of Caleb being dragged from the convention after his little outburst. I stared a hole right through that picture, his face in particular as I could hear the words that came from his lips over and over again in my head. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, but it was to no avail as I couldn’t remove the imagery from my mind. As I was in this trance-like state, I was unable to hear anything, including the knock at the door. Eventually, after the third time, Alexis had let herself in. She walked around the staircase and peeked into the dining room to see me sitting there with my eyes closed. She walked over and she could tell, I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. She placed her hand on my shoulder and shook me right out of the trance.
Alexis Caffrey: Mike.
I blinked not once, but twice as I shook my head, quickly snapping into reality.
Mike Laszlo: Huh? Who? (Looking up at Alexis.) Oh, hey.
Alexis Caffrey: What are you doing?
Mike Laszlo: Nothing.
She reaches down and snatches the paper from my hand.
Alexis Caffrey: And what is this?
Mike Laszlo: It’s noth…
She looked at the picture on the front page, and threw the paper to the ground.
Alexis Caffrey: What did I tell you?
Mike Laszlo: I…
Alexis Caffrey: Let that idiot go. We’ll probably never hear from him again, and if by some miracle we do…we’ll deal with it then. I’ve watched you at ringside for the last two weeks and you’ve looked disinterested and in the end, you’ve lost.
Mike Laszlo: I know. That changes this week.
Alexis Caffrey: Does it?
Mike Laszlo: Yes.
Alexis Caffrey: Are you sure?
Mike Laszlo: Yes.
Alexis Caffrey: Prove it.
As I was being called out by my own valet, a girl in her early twenties, who I could easily throw across the room, I pushed myself out from the table, reached down grabbing the tabloid, and proceeded to rip it in half.
Mike Laszlo: Screw this asshole. His words mean nothing, his actions, or lack thereof, even less. This Sunday, I get in that ring, and get back to doing what I do best.
Alexis Caffrey: Good. And what will you be proving this Sunday?
Mike Laszlo: That I am simply put…THE BEST…PERIOD!
The scene fades as the two of us head outside for our routine jog.
====================
Not to steal a catchphrase from a rival organization, but no words ring truer than these four words:
“It all begins again.”
This Sunday is a rebirth of sorts.
You won’t see the same man who doesn’t give a damn about the match.
You won’t see a man who is disinterested.
You won’t see me go through the motions.
You damn sure won’t see me tapping out to anybody’s submission moves no matter how painful they appear or actually are.
This Sunday you will see four men step inside that ring, each with something to prove.
Alex Jones, wants to prove that he belongs in the upper echelon of this company.
Joe Everyman wants to make good on his last opportunity.
Simon Daye wants to prove that he is more than just a useless commentator who rode Gib’s coattails to glory and a lengthy title reign.
I want to prove that the Mike Laszlo you all know and love is back and not only so, but with a vengeance. I’m done with the “respect” angle. I’m done touting the abilities of my opponents. I’m done with the Mr. Nice Guy routine.
Respect? Alex, you can respect each and every other person in this match. You can respect all we’ve accomplished, and you can respect the opinions of these people in the audience, but in the end, respect gets you nothing but a pat on the back and a thumbs up. Apparently, you haven’t learned this yet. The whole entire time you’ve been here, you’ve tried your hardest to put on the tough guy face, and act badass, but like every other attempt you’ve made at anything…it’s gotten you nowhere fast.
Maybe, just maybe Alex, it’s time for a new routine?
Then there’s Simon Daye. Mr. Coattails. He took his time with Gib and has put it to good use. After all, when you’re being trained by one of the legends of this company, hell, this business as a whole, you’re bound to pick up a few things right? Eventually, you get sick of the ridicule suffered as a backstage announcer, a mere step above stagehand, and you lash out. Then you trained and trained and trained some more, and yet still to this day, you’re nothing more than an arrogant punk who needs old man Gib to carry you to your victories. This Sunday Simon, there is no Gib. This Sunday you’re on your own. Can you cut it?
Last but not least, there’s my old buddy Joe Everyman. The man who two weeks ago pushed me down the spiral staircase by beating me in the center of that ring. This, the same Joe Everyman, who after our match at Crossroads drilled me in the head with a steel chair.
Yeah, that’s right Joe, I didn’t forget.
The same Joe Everyman, who will pay for his wrongs done against me.
I don’t forgive and I sure as hell don’t forget Joe. Every dog has his day and two weeks ago was yours. You took the momentum of those chair shots and parlayed it into a victory over yours truly and the old me would congratulate you. The old me would have called you the better man.
The new me?
What would I do?
I’d say that plain and simply; you got lucky.
You caught me on a bad day at an even worse time of the day. This Sunday live on Collision, I show you, I show Simon, and I show Alex, that there is a reason that I was the longest reigning X and Honor Champion in company history. I show you that it is not just my silver tongue but also my superior skill inside that squared-circle that got me where I am today.
This Sunday, Mike Laszlo is back with a vengeance, and I’m not speaking in third person out of arrogance, I just want you to know exactly what you’re dealing with. I am a man on a mission, and none of the three of you are going to stop me from making it to the Coliseum, winning, and then taking the World Title from whoever holds that shiny gold belt at A Night To Remember.
I am THE BEST…PERIOD!
This Sunday, you all experience it first-hand.
Enjoy.