Post by Jack Hammond on Jul 5, 2009 6:12:19 GMT -6
The sounds of what appear to be a celebration are the first thing any viewers of this promo will hear, the picture coming in to focus on smiling faces, little kids waving flags, decorations fluttering from their places on the railings, walls and poles as a breeze cuts through the sweltering heat of the Missouri afternoon air. The camera finally seems to locate a rather bemused looking Jack Hammond in midst of all of this, shouldering his way through the crowds of people. He appears to begin to talk but the current X-Division Champion is suddenly obscured from view and we can hear some muffled grunts as nCw's Resident Hamster appears to be jostled and smothered trying to work his way through.
A cut later, we find Hammond free of the crowds, looking slightly worse for wear and still quite bemused. Sweat glistens from his brow as he runs a hand through his mussed up hair and he readjusts his 'How Hard Can It Be?' t-shirt as he looks back at the camera, apparently trying to compose himself, but can't help but chuckle to himself as he begins.
"I'll have to apologize for my appearance and the way I started today, it's just the director thought it'd be a good idea for me to start in a shot that had me in the middle of things on today of all days; the 4th of July. Far be it from me to comment on my director's decision, since he took many long classes discovering the best kind of shots, angles, ways of lighting things, placement and many other technical terms that he's thrown at me to convince me this promo was meant to rival any production made by say, Steven Speilberg or Michael Mann, but quite frankly, tossing a man of my size into a crowd of rather...bulky Americans all wanting to be in exactly the same spot at exactly the same time, whilst the weather is only a few degrees short of being as hot as the sun, is about as clever a directorial idea as casting Hayden Christiansen in...well anything."
Jack lets out an exasperated sigh as he continues glancing over his shoulder back at the crowd he'd fought his way through, most of them too focussed upon the events happening down the street to take notice of him.
"It is quite an amazing thing though. There are very few events in the UK that can bring people together like this, and they usually involve two soccer teams and a big fight afterwards. I'm reminded that this all began when a few Americans didn't think it was such a bright idea to recognize us Brits as the leaders and tossed a bunch of our tea into a river, thus staring the American War of Independence."
He shrugs as he considers his unenviable position of being a Briton very near to a rather large group of Americans on this day of all days.
"Now far be it from me to really comment upon the why, how and where of what happened. All that really matters is the Yanks won and we decided to focus on simply taking over all of India where all the tea came from in the first place. I am, however, expecting an impassioned speech from a certain Mr. Diamond on this day and through his...unique way of twisting facts and words making it seem that he is the only real person who should win in the Xtreme Assault Match tomorrow as he's somehow related to George Washington and Abraham Lincoln is his great aunt or some such and because of that he's should inherit the belt."
He pauses and shrugs once again, trying rather unsuccessfully to supress the cheeky grin that's spread across his face.
"Okay, he probably won't, but considering the way he's been banging on the 'patriot' drum so much, even he should admit that it'll be damn close. But like I've been banging on about myself, words do not make a man and so far all I've seen from you Rob is a whole lot of talk...and whining and moaning and incoherent yelling. And even though we haven't seen it, I'll assume a bit of open weeping in total and utter frustration, and quite frankly you're just embarrassing yourself when you do it."
Jack pauses yet again before holding his hands up.
"Okay, so I'm getting a little carried away with saying what he might do yet again, but I've yet to see some action behind his venomous promises or accusations. We can all mock, Rob, we can pose and postulate and make generous claims as to what we 'deserve' or what we're 'owed', but you stand alone when you're facing off against a man who is willing not to talk about it but simply take what he can get."
The X-Division Champion's expression seems to sour once again as he berates Diamond, the hubbub of the crowd behind him seeming to die down as the mic on Hammond's lapel is focussed upon.
"Hearing you whine about any person getting something handed to them makes my blood boil when I think about what many men in this business have sacrificed in order to get where they are. The blood they've shed in struggle, the tears they've been forced to cry in defeat, and the will to carry on no matter what adversity they are faced with."
The grim look is replaced by a wry grin and a cheeky wink as Hammond moves on.
"People like Xavier Williams."
Jack's eyes fall to the X-Division Title that once again is glittering around his waist. A grim smile plays across his lips as he looks back up at the camera, a look of determination settling onto his features.
"Perhaps it will be that tomorrow, you recapture this title and it leads you back to your promised land of main evening and poking one in the eye of whoever happens to be the World Champion. So by all means...sorry, 'by any means necessary' X, if you think you are the better man, I won't wish you any luck. We both seem to know where we are and where we're gonna be and whatever happens, we'll have proven to each other once again that we're still two of the best who will have written another page of our story that is far from over."
Hammond seems to shiver from the sheer anticipation and the prospect of tearing it up with X yet again. He manages to catch himself however and arches an eyebrow, seemingly remembering something.
"Oh. I was nearly forgetting someone. Shaddix. Uhm...well, his story seemed to have a point. Not the kind of point we'd see in, say, a Dr. Zeuss book or a fairy tale, but I'm pretty sure there was one...uh...'don't start bar fights'? No? How about, 'don't laugh whilst cutting wood; it'll all end in tears'? Hrm. How about simply 'if you're given a chance to talk about an upcoming title shot, don't use that time to talk to us about your childhood as if we're your therapist and we're supposed to get it'. Sorry, Shaddix, the respect you had going for you is quickly fading if this is how you're going to be threatening us. Perhaps it's some clever ploy to try and lull us into a false sense of boredom and after we all fall asleep thanks to that, you can scamper up and grab the title."
Jack shrugs to himself but chuckles before he shakes his head and lets out an exasperated sigh.
"Look, I'm expecting that you've yet to finish your little bedtime story, and there will eventually be a point to it and we'll all look like fools before the great prophet but perhaps next time a little less exposition and a little more explanation would work a bit better if you want to make it relevant as to what it has to do with this upcoming match. Though you have given me an idea to start quoting Dr. Zeuss more in my promos."
He shrugs and appears to try and continue before there's a large cheering from behind him, and a distant roar that grows closer and closer, eventually becoming a torrent of noise that rips through the air as a pair of F-18's scream overhead, trailing red, white and blue smoke. Behind the pint-sized champ, the people seem to go nuts, waving flags even harder than before as 'The Star Spangled Banner' strikes up. Hammond looks a little perplexed before he coughs awkwardly and starts to move away.
"Well, I did have other things to say but it's suddenly gotten very...patriotic around here."
So saying he darts off camera as we watch the singing, sweating crowd of people cheer, wave flags and whoop as the jets come back for another flyby, the scene fading out on the sights and sounds of a rabid 4th of July crowd.
A cut later, we find Hammond free of the crowds, looking slightly worse for wear and still quite bemused. Sweat glistens from his brow as he runs a hand through his mussed up hair and he readjusts his 'How Hard Can It Be?' t-shirt as he looks back at the camera, apparently trying to compose himself, but can't help but chuckle to himself as he begins.
"I'll have to apologize for my appearance and the way I started today, it's just the director thought it'd be a good idea for me to start in a shot that had me in the middle of things on today of all days; the 4th of July. Far be it from me to comment on my director's decision, since he took many long classes discovering the best kind of shots, angles, ways of lighting things, placement and many other technical terms that he's thrown at me to convince me this promo was meant to rival any production made by say, Steven Speilberg or Michael Mann, but quite frankly, tossing a man of my size into a crowd of rather...bulky Americans all wanting to be in exactly the same spot at exactly the same time, whilst the weather is only a few degrees short of being as hot as the sun, is about as clever a directorial idea as casting Hayden Christiansen in...well anything."
Jack lets out an exasperated sigh as he continues glancing over his shoulder back at the crowd he'd fought his way through, most of them too focussed upon the events happening down the street to take notice of him.
"It is quite an amazing thing though. There are very few events in the UK that can bring people together like this, and they usually involve two soccer teams and a big fight afterwards. I'm reminded that this all began when a few Americans didn't think it was such a bright idea to recognize us Brits as the leaders and tossed a bunch of our tea into a river, thus staring the American War of Independence."
He shrugs as he considers his unenviable position of being a Briton very near to a rather large group of Americans on this day of all days.
"Now far be it from me to really comment upon the why, how and where of what happened. All that really matters is the Yanks won and we decided to focus on simply taking over all of India where all the tea came from in the first place. I am, however, expecting an impassioned speech from a certain Mr. Diamond on this day and through his...unique way of twisting facts and words making it seem that he is the only real person who should win in the Xtreme Assault Match tomorrow as he's somehow related to George Washington and Abraham Lincoln is his great aunt or some such and because of that he's should inherit the belt."
He pauses and shrugs once again, trying rather unsuccessfully to supress the cheeky grin that's spread across his face.
"Okay, he probably won't, but considering the way he's been banging on the 'patriot' drum so much, even he should admit that it'll be damn close. But like I've been banging on about myself, words do not make a man and so far all I've seen from you Rob is a whole lot of talk...and whining and moaning and incoherent yelling. And even though we haven't seen it, I'll assume a bit of open weeping in total and utter frustration, and quite frankly you're just embarrassing yourself when you do it."
Jack pauses yet again before holding his hands up.
"Okay, so I'm getting a little carried away with saying what he might do yet again, but I've yet to see some action behind his venomous promises or accusations. We can all mock, Rob, we can pose and postulate and make generous claims as to what we 'deserve' or what we're 'owed', but you stand alone when you're facing off against a man who is willing not to talk about it but simply take what he can get."
The X-Division Champion's expression seems to sour once again as he berates Diamond, the hubbub of the crowd behind him seeming to die down as the mic on Hammond's lapel is focussed upon.
"Hearing you whine about any person getting something handed to them makes my blood boil when I think about what many men in this business have sacrificed in order to get where they are. The blood they've shed in struggle, the tears they've been forced to cry in defeat, and the will to carry on no matter what adversity they are faced with."
The grim look is replaced by a wry grin and a cheeky wink as Hammond moves on.
"People like Xavier Williams."
Jack's eyes fall to the X-Division Title that once again is glittering around his waist. A grim smile plays across his lips as he looks back up at the camera, a look of determination settling onto his features.
"Perhaps it will be that tomorrow, you recapture this title and it leads you back to your promised land of main evening and poking one in the eye of whoever happens to be the World Champion. So by all means...sorry, 'by any means necessary' X, if you think you are the better man, I won't wish you any luck. We both seem to know where we are and where we're gonna be and whatever happens, we'll have proven to each other once again that we're still two of the best who will have written another page of our story that is far from over."
Hammond seems to shiver from the sheer anticipation and the prospect of tearing it up with X yet again. He manages to catch himself however and arches an eyebrow, seemingly remembering something.
"Oh. I was nearly forgetting someone. Shaddix. Uhm...well, his story seemed to have a point. Not the kind of point we'd see in, say, a Dr. Zeuss book or a fairy tale, but I'm pretty sure there was one...uh...'don't start bar fights'? No? How about, 'don't laugh whilst cutting wood; it'll all end in tears'? Hrm. How about simply 'if you're given a chance to talk about an upcoming title shot, don't use that time to talk to us about your childhood as if we're your therapist and we're supposed to get it'. Sorry, Shaddix, the respect you had going for you is quickly fading if this is how you're going to be threatening us. Perhaps it's some clever ploy to try and lull us into a false sense of boredom and after we all fall asleep thanks to that, you can scamper up and grab the title."
Jack shrugs to himself but chuckles before he shakes his head and lets out an exasperated sigh.
"Look, I'm expecting that you've yet to finish your little bedtime story, and there will eventually be a point to it and we'll all look like fools before the great prophet but perhaps next time a little less exposition and a little more explanation would work a bit better if you want to make it relevant as to what it has to do with this upcoming match. Though you have given me an idea to start quoting Dr. Zeuss more in my promos."
He shrugs and appears to try and continue before there's a large cheering from behind him, and a distant roar that grows closer and closer, eventually becoming a torrent of noise that rips through the air as a pair of F-18's scream overhead, trailing red, white and blue smoke. Behind the pint-sized champ, the people seem to go nuts, waving flags even harder than before as 'The Star Spangled Banner' strikes up. Hammond looks a little perplexed before he coughs awkwardly and starts to move away.
"Well, I did have other things to say but it's suddenly gotten very...patriotic around here."
So saying he darts off camera as we watch the singing, sweating crowd of people cheer, wave flags and whoop as the jets come back for another flyby, the scene fading out on the sights and sounds of a rabid 4th of July crowd.