Post by khardaway on Aug 13, 2011 20:42:03 GMT -5
Hmmph...THIS isn't where I parked my car.
I’m sure everybody has a million questions on the very reason of why I came back to a WCF ring so suddenly after a career-threatening injury, or what I’m doing siding with the person who I defeated for the WCF World Championship and the person who beat me for that very same belt when in turn, you saw that I didn’t really care for either one of them while I was in the ring? Why am I doing this, you ask? I never said in any of my promos that I hated Johnny Reb OR Donald Deruty. The matter of the fact was that I was trying to either win or retain the WCF World Championship. And you should be aware of me when I’m in that ring. Outside of the mat, you know me as a down-to-earth guy who likes to play shit like Call of Duty and listen to Trivium. Everybody should already know that I don’t treat this business like a damn game. It’s my damn job. It’s my damn life. And if I’m going to sit around and suck my thumb while somebody has control of the biggest prize in the game, then why the hell should I bother? I’ve already seen somebody do that in his career and now he’s curtain-jerking in front of 200 people in a fucking bar in England. I was main eventing weekly shows in front of 20,000 people. I won the right to try to defeat Johnny Reb inside Cowboys Stadium in front of 70,000 people. I won the title in a country that treats this like a sport. Not some family-friendly bullshit like some places does.
People thought I was done for when I dove to the outside against D-Day. I said to everybody that my pectoral muscle was ripped like nobody’s business. Well, I lied and I told the truth on that situation. Did I tear my pectoral, yes I did…but in these days of media blitzes, where the death of some bitch who couldn’t clean themselves up is bigger news than a national tragedy in the UK right now, people thought that I tore it completely off, and that I was going to be out for almost a year. I didn’t say that now, did I? NO! I didn’t. Did I tear it? Hell yeah. And guess what? That was still the worst pain I’ve ever received in my life, simply because that’s the worst injury that my body has ever went through in my entire career. I’ve been lucky my entire life that I didn’t have to go through any of this, until that day against D-Day. The doctor telling me that me finishing that match was nothing short of extraordinary was the truth. He was surprised I kept going. And I would’ve retained the damn title if I didn’t tear it, but you know what. I gave D-Day my props. If somebody was going to take the title away from me, I was so glad that he was the one who did it. Like I mentioned, I never hated him one bit. The only reason I said that was for the sake of getting into his head. For the sake of competition. I felt proud when he pinned me. He was going to take this company to the next generation, to the next level.
Then, as I was sitting home, recuperating from the surgery I had, I saw that would be short-lived. I saw that everything that I was happy for just ripped away from not only D-Day’s hands, but mine as well. This douche by the name of Odin Balfore had to come in and ruin the fun. He had to come in and make everything that this company was becoming and just ruin it. Not only do you ruin D-Day’s title reign, but you kind of ruined mine as well. As proud as I was for Deruty beating me, you just pissed that all away didn’t you Balfore? And you enjoyed it? Not only that, but you needed backup because you figured you couldn’t get the job done all by yourself. And yet, you pick somebody who could completely stab you in the back? You realize he could just decide to cash-in and win the WCF World Championship from your hands in an instant? You may be a tall, dark, brooding, man…but that usually equals to not enough brains in the mainframe.
I know what he’s capable of. I know what he can do. I’ve seen it. I don’t think you were here when he went out of his way to actually kill somebody in the middle of the ring. Do you want that on your conscience? I don’t think so. Just watch your back, Odin. I know I had to when I was holding the belt that’s around your waist right now. And I know he’s going to talk about this, even though we’ll have to go through 20 minutes of nonsense bullshit before we get to it. NEWS FLASH: I don’t give a company fuck about plot development. I don’t care one bit. Just say what needs to be said and I’ll start caring. Nobody wants to hear it. How far have you gotten with it? The Hardcore title and a guaranteed contract that you could possibly lose if somebody’s not beaten up enough towards your liking. Me, just straight up simple. “I’m going to kick your ass!”, BOOM! I beat Jay Price, became WCF World Champion in record time within coming back to wrestling, and became one of the newest rising stars in this damn company. Hearing me out, brotha man.
So there you go. Back and ready to go. I didn’t need a 15 minute promo saying why I was out, why I was back. All I said was, I got hurt, I got a deal to come back with two of the best champions ever, time to kick some ass. Simple enough, right?
Of course, it’s NEVER simple enough, is it?
I’m sure everybody has a million questions on the very reason of why I came back to a WCF ring so suddenly after a career-threatening injury, or what I’m doing siding with the person who I defeated for the WCF World Championship and the person who beat me for that very same belt when in turn, you saw that I didn’t really care for either one of them while I was in the ring? Why am I doing this, you ask? I never said in any of my promos that I hated Johnny Reb OR Donald Deruty. The matter of the fact was that I was trying to either win or retain the WCF World Championship. And you should be aware of me when I’m in that ring. Outside of the mat, you know me as a down-to-earth guy who likes to play shit like Call of Duty and listen to Trivium. Everybody should already know that I don’t treat this business like a damn game. It’s my damn job. It’s my damn life. And if I’m going to sit around and suck my thumb while somebody has control of the biggest prize in the game, then why the hell should I bother? I’ve already seen somebody do that in his career and now he’s curtain-jerking in front of 200 people in a fucking bar in England. I was main eventing weekly shows in front of 20,000 people. I won the right to try to defeat Johnny Reb inside Cowboys Stadium in front of 70,000 people. I won the title in a country that treats this like a sport. Not some family-friendly bullshit like some places does.
People thought I was done for when I dove to the outside against D-Day. I said to everybody that my pectoral muscle was ripped like nobody’s business. Well, I lied and I told the truth on that situation. Did I tear my pectoral, yes I did…but in these days of media blitzes, where the death of some bitch who couldn’t clean themselves up is bigger news than a national tragedy in the UK right now, people thought that I tore it completely off, and that I was going to be out for almost a year. I didn’t say that now, did I? NO! I didn’t. Did I tear it? Hell yeah. And guess what? That was still the worst pain I’ve ever received in my life, simply because that’s the worst injury that my body has ever went through in my entire career. I’ve been lucky my entire life that I didn’t have to go through any of this, until that day against D-Day. The doctor telling me that me finishing that match was nothing short of extraordinary was the truth. He was surprised I kept going. And I would’ve retained the damn title if I didn’t tear it, but you know what. I gave D-Day my props. If somebody was going to take the title away from me, I was so glad that he was the one who did it. Like I mentioned, I never hated him one bit. The only reason I said that was for the sake of getting into his head. For the sake of competition. I felt proud when he pinned me. He was going to take this company to the next generation, to the next level.
Then, as I was sitting home, recuperating from the surgery I had, I saw that would be short-lived. I saw that everything that I was happy for just ripped away from not only D-Day’s hands, but mine as well. This douche by the name of Odin Balfore had to come in and ruin the fun. He had to come in and make everything that this company was becoming and just ruin it. Not only do you ruin D-Day’s title reign, but you kind of ruined mine as well. As proud as I was for Deruty beating me, you just pissed that all away didn’t you Balfore? And you enjoyed it? Not only that, but you needed backup because you figured you couldn’t get the job done all by yourself. And yet, you pick somebody who could completely stab you in the back? You realize he could just decide to cash-in and win the WCF World Championship from your hands in an instant? You may be a tall, dark, brooding, man…but that usually equals to not enough brains in the mainframe.
I know what he’s capable of. I know what he can do. I’ve seen it. I don’t think you were here when he went out of his way to actually kill somebody in the middle of the ring. Do you want that on your conscience? I don’t think so. Just watch your back, Odin. I know I had to when I was holding the belt that’s around your waist right now. And I know he’s going to talk about this, even though we’ll have to go through 20 minutes of nonsense bullshit before we get to it. NEWS FLASH: I don’t give a company fuck about plot development. I don’t care one bit. Just say what needs to be said and I’ll start caring. Nobody wants to hear it. How far have you gotten with it? The Hardcore title and a guaranteed contract that you could possibly lose if somebody’s not beaten up enough towards your liking. Me, just straight up simple. “I’m going to kick your ass!”, BOOM! I beat Jay Price, became WCF World Champion in record time within coming back to wrestling, and became one of the newest rising stars in this damn company. Hearing me out, brotha man.
So there you go. Back and ready to go. I didn’t need a 15 minute promo saying why I was out, why I was back. All I said was, I got hurt, I got a deal to come back with two of the best champions ever, time to kick some ass. Simple enough, right?
Of course, it’s NEVER simple enough, is it?
