Post by Deleted on Jan 12, 2014 16:47:02 GMT -5
Teknique
Transcript of 880AM BYU Broadcast “Pro Wrestling Review with John Coleman”
John Coleman: On the line right now is Rex Stansfield. Old school wrestling fans knew Rex better as the “Perdenales Marvel.” Today he is an independent consultant for several federations here in the Southeast, and an occasional trainer as well. Rex, welcome.
Rex Stansfield: Your listeners are going to have to be very old school to remember me, John. *laughter*
JC: *laughter* You’d be surprised at our demographics.
RS: *laughter*
JC: The casual fan might not know much of your resume, Rex, but those who work in the industry do. Whenever your name comes up in conversation, its always positive.
RS: That’s good to hear.
JC: Can you tell us what you do as an independent consultant?
RS: I advise promotions on their developmental systems. How to evaluate their talent pool, and maximize their roster’s strengths and weaknesses.
JC: So you train companies on how to train their wrestlers?
RS: Pretty much. I do work with individual athletes from time to time, which I’m guessing is the reason you had me on today. *laughter*
JC: You guessed right, Rex. *laughter* We booked you mostly to talk about your work with WCF Television Champion Caleb Fourchon.
RS: Totally understandable.
JC: Caleb, as I’m sure you know, is a local boy, and was something of a minor celebrity here from his carnival days.
RS: Yeah, I’ve seen clips of his act. It was nuts.
JC: Did wrestling gators help prepare Fourchon for his new sport?
RS: Not in technique. Alligators and humans have very different centers of gravity. Can’t really suplex an alligator. *laughter*
JC: *laughter* True.
RS: But in terms of raw, athletic ability; it helped. Caleb is amazingly strong. Pound for pound he might be the strongest I’ve trained. And unlike a lot of bigger guys, his stamina is through the roof. He never seems to tire. Sharp reflexes, too.
JC: He had to be quick in his old line of work if he wanted to keep his fingers and toes.
RS: *laughter* Any of his body parts, really.
JC: How well did Caleb take to your training?
RS: I’m not going to lie, John: it was rough going at first. Caleb is stubborn. But there is no denying he loves wrestling, and once he realized my program would help him succeed he bought into it.
JC: Can you describe your training philosophy? Or am I asking you to give away company secrets?
RS: Not at all. I believe a wrestler is more successful the simpler he is able to keep things. Think about the all time greats in this sport. Most of them utilized very basic offenses. They didn’t excel because they knew 1001 moves. They excelled because they did know were performed efficiently. You want to make a champion? You find what he is good at, design a moveset that compliments his strengths, and focus on maximizing the impact of that offense.
JC: Sounds like common sense to me.
RS: Exactly, John. Wrestling isn’t rocket science. You win by wearing the other guy down until he’s too weak to break a pin or a hold. It doesn’t matter how you soften them up: a well thrown forearm shiver works just as well as a slingshot corkscrew plancha.
JC: Maybe not as fun to watch, though. *laughter*
RS: No, but I train my clients to win, not entertain.
JC: Switching gears a little; Caleb’s next match seems like it could be an ideal test case for your philosophy.
RS: Yeah. Yeah, you are right. Sunday Caleb has his first title defense against Tek.
JC: First? So you’re not counting last week’s victory? *laughter*
RS: *laughter* Don’t get me started on that circus. I only advise Fourchon on how to win matches. The theatrics aren’t my department.
JC: Fair enough. So, Tek?
RS: Tek is the perfect example of how not to train a wrestler. Don’t get me wrong. I respect his drive. Tek’s got a fire in him many in the sport don’t. But he’s going about his business all wrong. The man’s got a laundry list of moves, but hasn’t mastered any of them. Here’s a pro-tip, John: if you have four “finishers” and your win-loss record is still below the Horowitz Line, it’s time to rethink your offense.
JC: Horowitz Line”
RS: Yeah. Named for Barry Horowitz, the ultimate job- er, undercarder.
JC: *laughter* Never heard that before. You sound pretty confident Caleb’s retaining at Slam.
RS: He should win. Tek might be the biggest “name” Caleb has faced in WCF one on one, but he’s fought better wrestler here and beaten them. This Sunday at the PNC Arena we’ll see more of the same.
JC: We’re about out of time, Rex. Normally I’d ask you if you had anything to promote but it sounds like you just did. *laughter*
RS: *laughter* Yeah. Fans of the Wrestling Championship Federation, tune into Sunday Night Slam January 12, and watch “Cajun Crippler” Caleb Fourchon successfully defend his Television Title against “The Coldblooded” Tek. Or, if you’re in the Raleigh, North Carolina area, contact your local box office for tickets and catch the action live and in person.
JC: Hyped like a true professional. Rex, thanks for your time.
RS: Thank you, John. It’s been a pleasure.
********
Caleb Fourchon is sitting alone on the stump outside his cabin. He has on a soiled wife beater and a pair of ripped dungarees. No shoes, of course, and the Television title is nowhere in sight. A small fire burns in front of him, with a rusted Dutch oven nestled in its embers.
“Dis Sunday come de second defense of mah Televishun Title. It against Tek, so dis match gonna be easier den de first.”
The lean giant’s lips curl back in a smirk, “Ah say day because Tek is awful wrassler. If Ah given odds of who would win, him or a missin Mod Deuce, Ah putting mah money on de Grand Beede (1).
Fourchon takes the spoon he’s been scratching his back with and uses it to stir the pot.
“Ok, dat some exaggerashun. Even Tek beatin Mod Deuce if he too scaired to show hisself. But why wud dat fatso run from Tek? He no threat. Ah don’t care if he a two time Tag Team Champyuon. Steeltoe Joe did de heavy liftin in dat podnahsip, and even den dey lost de straps both times in dere first defense. Same ting fer de single title Tek luck into: De People’s Champyuonship. Dere. Dose de highlights of Tek’s wrasslin career. Tree title runs dat ended as soon as dey start. Oh, and he shave Waylon Cash’s head dat one time. Big deal. You kin git free haircuts at de Barber College too.”
Lifting the spoon from the slurry of God know what, Caleb dares a taste. He nods approvingly.
“Mm. Yeah, so Tek a bum. And yet, he boodayin (2) last week about how he not getting respect from de WCF. Dat he mad about gettin booked in clusterfucks and curtain jerkins. Mais yeah (3), Tek onna undercard. Dat where he belong. De Wrasslin Champyuonship Federashun filled wit talent. Dere sum nobuddies here and dere, but fer true dis roster stacked. Lookit at who wears de titles now. Anywun of dem dogs? Jonny Fly ain’t. Logan ain’t. Dat bracque(4) doctor ain’t. And Ah ain’t.”
Caleb takes the handkerchief stuffed in his back pocket and uses it to move the Dutch oven off the fire. He then leans forward, towards the camera, letting the light coming from the dancing flames make his glare seem even more menacing.
“Tek, you told me all Ah needed to know about yerself wit yer return. You decide to come back mysterious, dat you gonna targit a wrassler to make a statement. Okay. But who you choose? Doc Henry. De man who only here to collect a paycheck. Son, de only message you send by puttin bullseye on dat bon rien(5) is dat you got no faith in yerself. Sure, beatin him last week git you title shot, but de fun ends fer you Sunday.”
“Ah ain’t Doc Henry, Tek. Ah motivated. Ah dangerous. Ah de biggest, realest monstre (6) in de WCF, and at Slam Ah gonna prove it again bam akin you tap. You tink you got whut you wanted, Tek, but you wrong. Dis chance to prove you deserve spot higher up onna card gonna end like all de udders fer you: in pain. Dis time, it de agony dat come from bein caught in mah Cocodrie Clutch: when two hunnert seventy seven pounds of muscle squattin on yer kidneys and wrenchin yer spine so far back you kin see de soles of yer boots. Dis whut Ah gonna do on yer comeback, couyon (7). Dis whut Ah do to yer ‘fire’.”
The big man rises up to his feet. The camera stays stationary, focused on the flames. There is the rasp of a zipper, and from out a frame a stream of yellow sprays down onto the glowing coals, causing them to hiss and smolder before extinguishing the fire outright.
Footnotes:
(1)Grand Beede: big fat guy; an oaf
(2)Booday: to cry or pout
(3)Mais yeah: Hell yes
(4) bracque: crazy
(5)bon rien: lazy man, scoundrel
(6)monstre: monster
(7)couyon: fool
