Post by Jack Hammond on May 30, 2009 6:26:23 GMT -6
Our scene opens on what appears to be a rather subdued Jack Hammond, sitting outdoors on the hood of his Ford Mustang, this time fueled and ready to go. However, it seems that state of his car is the least of his problems as he furrows his brow, glancing up into the crisp, cool, early morning Wisconsin sky as if searching for the answer to his unvoiced question. Without looking at the camera, he begins to murmur softly.
“There comes a time in a man’s life when he’s got to look back at what he is and ask himself if he’s satisfied with what he sees. Not just what he’s achieved or accomplished in his time but also who he happens to be as a person. How would he react if he was someone else, looking over himself with a critical eye?”
Jack arches an eyebrow as his gaze lowers to the camera this time as he gives a noncommittal shrug and cracks a smirk.
“I know it seems a bit of a strange hour to be waxing lyrical about a persons’ sense of ‘self’, but after watching my opponent, Joe Everyman’s promo for our upcoming match at Reborn this Sunday, it brought how I’m perceived into a rather stark contrast as to how I thought people regarded me. Y’see, I expect to be hated by those of a less...charitable disposition, or those who’ve taken the time out of their busy schedule to casually stomp on some kittens to squawk about me in less than gratifying promos, detailing how exactly they will be sending me to hospital to eat runny peas through a straw for the rest of my life..but then I get Joe, a guy who I thought I could get along with in a pinch taking a big ol’ verbal bite out of me.”
A frown settles on his face, creasing his features into a confused state as he looks down, once again losing himself in thought as he taps the hood of the Mustang, a fain clunking being the only sound breaking the still morning air for a few heartbeats before he starts again.
“Aside from his little fixation with underdogs, he lays into me, pretty much making me out to be someone who claims to be an underachiever, someone who can get sympathy just be making the does eyes and talking about how crap he is compared to someone else and yet can squeeze out a victory somehow, despite the odds. A self-deprecating jerk who, despite his doubt and fears is able to turn things around and prove himself to be just as good, if not better than champions.”
Jack lets out a sigh before pausing for a few moments and chuckling to himself, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
“Now I think I just described every film made by Disney about a sports team, but whilst the idea of ‘Jack Hammond’ movie is quite appealing, I’m no actor. I’m as good at faking a performance or running of a bunch of lines I don’t believe in, so it comes as a bit of a surprise when someone’s accusing me of using my personality to try and garner popularity, even after getting a bit of gold around my waist.”
Jack raises his hands as if surrendering and lets out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes, but can’t quite suppress the cheeky grin rising on his lips or the levity in his voice.
“Okay Joe, I’m really a fraud who’s actually this confident, well-adjusted guy who puts on the cute act to hide his massive ego and kitten-stomping habit; you’ve rumbled me. I’m just winning by the skin of my teeth each time to give the fans a show if I’m really honest. Oh, and you know that wife and family I have?”
He leans a little closer to camera, glancing to the left and the right before whispering conspiratorially.
“They’re just really good paid actors. And I don’t like cars, I get chauffeured around everywhere to all the late night groupie sex romps I have.”
Jack chuckles as he sits back, seemingly relaxed now as he grins openly.
“Okay, so I can’t expect everyone to see me the way I want them to and despite me and my therapists’ best efforts to make a bit more confident, the whole ‘belittling intro/confident comeback’ thing I like to get going seems to work well in getting out what I need or want to say and you can believe me if you want to Joe, but I’m not doing an act or trying to garner sympathy, I’m just being me; genuine and unashamed of who I am. Although, when I make fun of myself, I can sometimes hear all the fangirls squealing in my head and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside in the same way that old ‘emo-boy’ costume did.”
Hammond clears his throat and waves a hand to move the subject away from his rather embarrassing alter-ego. He taps the hood of his car again before nodding to himself and continuing.
“So it seems that once again I’m in the unenviable position of having to defend a title. I’ll admit the stress gets to me after a while, having that target on your back, but Joe, you needn’t worry, seeing as I’m not asking for sympathy. You say you’re going to bring your best; you also think you’re above me because of that. I’ll admit, you probably are currently at the top of your game these days, managing to put away names like Bates, Shaddix and Diamond. It certainly would be much easier for me to try and put on a cute face and kick myself a bit more and hope that somehow I garner enough sympathy with you that you decide to be a good sport and let me win...but I think we both know that’s not going to happen. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed Joe, but playing the role of an underdog doesn’t win me matches and it certainly doesn’t help me feel any better when I lose. What counts is my skill, my focus, my drive and my confidence, it’s those things that I bring to each match and it’s those things that have made me a Showcase winner, an X-Division Champion and a World Champion.”
Jack grins confidently, hopping off the hood of his car and dusting off his jeans before he moves towards the driver’s side of the Mustang.
“My moping and self-deprecation are ways in which I can find my faults or my doubts and consequentially strengthen my resolve and confidence in myself. Sure I may seem outmatched at times and it’s easy and pretty obvious for people to label me the ‘ultimate underdog’, not just thanks to my stature, my confidence issues or my inexperience, but the way I approach matches; with head down and both feet put forwards. This Sunday will be no different when I go out there to defend my title, not the underdog you want me to be, Joe, but a Champion I know I can be.”
He opens the driver’s side door and Hammond throws himself backwards into the driver’s seat with a soft thump as his back settles against the leather of the body-hugging seat, his hands settling on the wheel as the camera switches to the classic ‘Hamster-Dash Cam’ angle, showing Jack’s grinning face.
“I know you don’t want to be friends Joe, so I’m not going to try to make an idiot of myself by offering you a hand to shake when all is said and done this Sunday, but that doesn’t mean I want to. So I’ll just play it the way you want it and just bring all that I am and all that I have to that ring this Sunday and prove to you just exactly why I got to where I am; by being a scrappy little bastard. Good luck, Joe.”
Jack’s grin only seems to grow as he twists his keys in the ignition, a throaty roar coming from the exhaust and within a heartbeat, the Mustang has taken off down the road, speeding its way down the thin ribbon of tarmac towards Madison as the scene fades to black.
“There comes a time in a man’s life when he’s got to look back at what he is and ask himself if he’s satisfied with what he sees. Not just what he’s achieved or accomplished in his time but also who he happens to be as a person. How would he react if he was someone else, looking over himself with a critical eye?”
Jack arches an eyebrow as his gaze lowers to the camera this time as he gives a noncommittal shrug and cracks a smirk.
“I know it seems a bit of a strange hour to be waxing lyrical about a persons’ sense of ‘self’, but after watching my opponent, Joe Everyman’s promo for our upcoming match at Reborn this Sunday, it brought how I’m perceived into a rather stark contrast as to how I thought people regarded me. Y’see, I expect to be hated by those of a less...charitable disposition, or those who’ve taken the time out of their busy schedule to casually stomp on some kittens to squawk about me in less than gratifying promos, detailing how exactly they will be sending me to hospital to eat runny peas through a straw for the rest of my life..but then I get Joe, a guy who I thought I could get along with in a pinch taking a big ol’ verbal bite out of me.”
A frown settles on his face, creasing his features into a confused state as he looks down, once again losing himself in thought as he taps the hood of the Mustang, a fain clunking being the only sound breaking the still morning air for a few heartbeats before he starts again.
“Aside from his little fixation with underdogs, he lays into me, pretty much making me out to be someone who claims to be an underachiever, someone who can get sympathy just be making the does eyes and talking about how crap he is compared to someone else and yet can squeeze out a victory somehow, despite the odds. A self-deprecating jerk who, despite his doubt and fears is able to turn things around and prove himself to be just as good, if not better than champions.”
Jack lets out a sigh before pausing for a few moments and chuckling to himself, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
“Now I think I just described every film made by Disney about a sports team, but whilst the idea of ‘Jack Hammond’ movie is quite appealing, I’m no actor. I’m as good at faking a performance or running of a bunch of lines I don’t believe in, so it comes as a bit of a surprise when someone’s accusing me of using my personality to try and garner popularity, even after getting a bit of gold around my waist.”
Jack raises his hands as if surrendering and lets out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes, but can’t quite suppress the cheeky grin rising on his lips or the levity in his voice.
“Okay Joe, I’m really a fraud who’s actually this confident, well-adjusted guy who puts on the cute act to hide his massive ego and kitten-stomping habit; you’ve rumbled me. I’m just winning by the skin of my teeth each time to give the fans a show if I’m really honest. Oh, and you know that wife and family I have?”
He leans a little closer to camera, glancing to the left and the right before whispering conspiratorially.
“They’re just really good paid actors. And I don’t like cars, I get chauffeured around everywhere to all the late night groupie sex romps I have.”
Jack chuckles as he sits back, seemingly relaxed now as he grins openly.
“Okay, so I can’t expect everyone to see me the way I want them to and despite me and my therapists’ best efforts to make a bit more confident, the whole ‘belittling intro/confident comeback’ thing I like to get going seems to work well in getting out what I need or want to say and you can believe me if you want to Joe, but I’m not doing an act or trying to garner sympathy, I’m just being me; genuine and unashamed of who I am. Although, when I make fun of myself, I can sometimes hear all the fangirls squealing in my head and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside in the same way that old ‘emo-boy’ costume did.”
Hammond clears his throat and waves a hand to move the subject away from his rather embarrassing alter-ego. He taps the hood of his car again before nodding to himself and continuing.
“So it seems that once again I’m in the unenviable position of having to defend a title. I’ll admit the stress gets to me after a while, having that target on your back, but Joe, you needn’t worry, seeing as I’m not asking for sympathy. You say you’re going to bring your best; you also think you’re above me because of that. I’ll admit, you probably are currently at the top of your game these days, managing to put away names like Bates, Shaddix and Diamond. It certainly would be much easier for me to try and put on a cute face and kick myself a bit more and hope that somehow I garner enough sympathy with you that you decide to be a good sport and let me win...but I think we both know that’s not going to happen. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed Joe, but playing the role of an underdog doesn’t win me matches and it certainly doesn’t help me feel any better when I lose. What counts is my skill, my focus, my drive and my confidence, it’s those things that I bring to each match and it’s those things that have made me a Showcase winner, an X-Division Champion and a World Champion.”
Jack grins confidently, hopping off the hood of his car and dusting off his jeans before he moves towards the driver’s side of the Mustang.
“My moping and self-deprecation are ways in which I can find my faults or my doubts and consequentially strengthen my resolve and confidence in myself. Sure I may seem outmatched at times and it’s easy and pretty obvious for people to label me the ‘ultimate underdog’, not just thanks to my stature, my confidence issues or my inexperience, but the way I approach matches; with head down and both feet put forwards. This Sunday will be no different when I go out there to defend my title, not the underdog you want me to be, Joe, but a Champion I know I can be.”
He opens the driver’s side door and Hammond throws himself backwards into the driver’s seat with a soft thump as his back settles against the leather of the body-hugging seat, his hands settling on the wheel as the camera switches to the classic ‘Hamster-Dash Cam’ angle, showing Jack’s grinning face.
“I know you don’t want to be friends Joe, so I’m not going to try to make an idiot of myself by offering you a hand to shake when all is said and done this Sunday, but that doesn’t mean I want to. So I’ll just play it the way you want it and just bring all that I am and all that I have to that ring this Sunday and prove to you just exactly why I got to where I am; by being a scrappy little bastard. Good luck, Joe.”
Jack’s grin only seems to grow as he twists his keys in the ignition, a throaty roar coming from the exhaust and within a heartbeat, the Mustang has taken off down the road, speeding its way down the thin ribbon of tarmac towards Madison as the scene fades to black.