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Post by .::Beauty::. on Oct 7, 2010 3:13:50 GMT -5
[NWA World Championship] Michael Cavenaugh© Vs. Aaron Rupp
Limit: 2 Each Maximum First Deadline: Monday October 11th 11:59pm EST Final Deadline: Tuesday October 12th at 11:59pm EST
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Post by snakeeyes on Oct 9, 2010 8:19:44 GMT -5
The rhythmic slap of rubber on asphalt, soothing in its own weird way, accompanies the careful and measured strides of the National Wrestling Alliance World Heavyweight Champion, the often imitated and thankfully never duplicated combination of sadism and philosopher that is Michael "Snake Eyes" Cavenaugh. Somewhere, deep in the heart of Manhattan, the Champ is running, neither to nor from anything, but rather because a spot on his schedule indicates that it is what he should be doing right now. For a man considered by many to be reckless, a loose cannon, he lives a remarkably rigid life, everything controlled by dots and checks, indicating tasks to be done and tasks that have been completed. This is reflected in the cold, methodical ring style that Cavenaugh has adapted, every move designed as part of a larger plan, a task to be checked off before the next one is begun.
Cavenaugh makes a turn at a four way stop, continuing along the same path he travels every day, rain or shine, hot or freezing, wearing the same black jogging shorts, black running shoes slightly younger than time itself, no shirt, and designer sunglasses. His breathing is smooth and even, the end result of years of intense cardiovascular conditioning. Cavenaugh continues to run, his form technically perfect, his arms and legs in perfect time. He continues up the road, reaching a small hill, where his body adjusts perfectly, leaning forward to change his center of gravity, legs pumping slightly higher, arms remaining closer to his sides. His speed increases, his breathing becoming slightly more rapid, as he climbs this final hill before home.
Reaching the top of the hill, Snake Eyes slows, moving at simply a jog as he crosses the last few feet. Coming to a stop, he takes a deep breath, slides a cigarette into his mouth, lights up, and takes a drag. Another item off the list. His nicotine craving temporarily satisfied, Cavenaugh speaks, quietly.
"People always say they want to be famous. Anyone who comes into this business, they want to be famous. They want to be known as the best in the world. They want to be a World Champion, dozens of times over. But they're all full of fucking shit."
Just a second to take another drag, barely interrupting the cadence that Snake Eyes is known for.
"What they want is the perks of being famous, being the best, being a World Champion. They want the money, the girls, the drugs, all that. They want to be treated like a god, they want to be paid ludicrous amounts of money just to show up and scratch their name a dozen or so times. They don't really want to be the best."
With a bit of a smirk on his rugged, weathered face, Cavenaugh takes a seat on the steps of the building who's penthouse he lives in. He leans back, arms resting on the stairs, as he continues.
"Being the best... being an elite athlete... it's not a super secret trick. There's no one big thing you have to do... there are just hundreds and hundreds of little things. That's what gets most people. Anyone could make one big sacrifice to become an elite wrestler. Anyone could say 'Yeah, I'll give up ice cream' if that was all it took. But that's not it. Shit, I eat ice cream three times a week, and if giving it up meant I didn't have to do any of the other things I do, then it'd be gone so fast your head would spin."
A slow drag off the cigarette, followed by the casual flicking of ashes.
"But it wouldn't. There's conditioning... because if you can't breath, you can't fight. There's weight work, to build strength, because you have to have strength. There's weight work, to tone, because big, pretty muscles help you get recognized. There's sparring, spending hours and hours with guys better than you so they can twist you into unforgiving shapes and make you wish it would just end. There's diction practice if you've got even a slight problem with how you talk, because sounding good is a big part of being a success. And then there's the film... hours, hours, and hours watching film, looking for tendencies and weaknesses. Looking for the one little thing that will give you the edge. It's hours you'd rather spend sleeping, or hanging out with friends, or raising a family. The way to be the best is to do everything, every little thing, with one hundred percent concentration and dedication, for years on end. Years and years. A career's worth. A career of doing everything with perfect precision, all for the scant chance to be on top for a few short years."
The smile fades. There is a distinct change in Cavenaugh's tone, a little softer, a little contemplative.
"Not everyone's willing to do that. Most people, even those in the business, aren't. I've been willing to make those sacrifices, to concentrate on doing everything perfectly, for almost two decades. And I've made it... I've made it to the top. I've been the top dog in a couple different places, world-wide names, a legend in the flesh. And now this... what's almost certainly going to be my farewell to the wrestling world, a final little display before I, to steal from Mike Tyson, fade in Bolivian."
The smile is back, a little beaming, even. Perhaps the ramblings of a mad man amuse Snake, perhaps it's just a memory of a bone he's snapped at some point. A quick drag, then more talking.
"When I came back to BACW, I didn't think I'd get this shot. I didn't think I'd find myself in the ring with the NWA World Champion... I didn't think I'd feel him go limp in my arms. I didn't think I'd win the title, in front of fans that loved me, and know a few moments of peace. But things have a funny way of working out. It turned out that I could still do the little things right... and I still did them better than anyone else."
A single beat of a pause.
"There's a story, apocryphal of course, since it doesn't show up until hundreds of years after it supposedly happened... but in sixteen twenty eight Robert Hayman wrote 'Great Alexander wept, and made sad moan, because there was but one world to be won.' It's been paraphrased by hundreds of people as 'And when he saw the breadth of his kingdom Alexander wept, for there were no more world's to conquer.' And on the surface, it makes sense, right?"
Snake Eyes waits, almost as if he expects a response. Since none is forthcoming, he continues alone.
"How many people have said that being a World Champion is a let down? Not in words, but in actions... how many guys have won the title, then fallen right off the edge, losing it almost immediately? It's the same in other sports... a championship hangover. You put out so much effort... so much of yourself... to win the championship, you've got nothing left for the defense. You've accomplished the goal, you've won the battle, and now's the time to rest, right?"
Cavenaugh tosses his cigarette away, lights a fresh one, and continues.
"I had a few moments where I thought that... where I thought maybe I could just relax now, I could figure out what people do when they're not obsessing, spending their entire lives thinking about wrestling..."
Michael's words drift off for just a moment. He snaps back, his tone with an aggressive nature.
"But fuck that. This is what I've been working for. I've done the championship hang over. I won the NWA World Hardcore Championship and lost it in my first defense... twice. I won the BACW Championship and lost it in under a month... three times. It's like my old entrance song said, though... 'You've got to lose to know how to win.'"
Another drag.
"Look, there are a lot of guys who've won the NWA World Championship. A lot of guys who've held the belt two weeks. Slightly less who've held it a month. Less who've held it three months. Way less who've held it six months... and so on. People who think there's nothing left to conquer aren't paying attention... or dream small. It's a cliche, but it's totally true that, on any given night, any one can win the title. For one night, anyone can get lucky. Shit, Ric Righteous could blow his way into a title shot, then the Champ could get hit by lightening, shot, stabbed, poisoned, and decapitated in the ring. With just a tiny bit of help, Ric could pin that guy and have the title. What I'm saying is luck can make you a champion... but not for long. And if I want to prove this wasn't a fluke... that the referee didn't matter, that the fans didn't matter, that Jousma's bitching is just a flapping cunt sending out stink rays... well, this is the start. I'm sure there are people telling Aaron Rupp this is the perfect chance for him... an old champ, who's feeling satisfied, who doesn't have anything left to prove..."
A smirk.
"Except that's all bullshit. This is a golden opportunity for me... winning this title changed everything. It gave me a chance to prove, again, that I'm the mother fucking man. That I'm still the alpha dog, and still the one to go through if you want to be somebody."
A slightly longer pause, letting the comments hang in the air.
"And here we are... people milling about trying to figure out a way to take my title, and Aaron Rupp at the front of the line. Usually, this is where I'd toss out a handful of insults, contemplate on the likelihood of their mothers having carnal relations with canines, discuss the inherent personality flaws that make them lesser creatures, and mock the systems of beliefs they have. And of course, today is no different."
That is a joke that, as far as Cavenaugh is concerned, never gets old. Misdirection and misinformation are his tools, and he wields them well.
"Perhaps you expect me to say that you're the top of a shit heap, Rupp... mention that there's no one in True Glory Wrestling I respect, no one whose mouth I'd piss into if it was on fire? If so, you're... well, right and wrong. It's true- I wouldn't say there's anyone in TGW that impresses me, but I'm also not convinced you're the best they've got to offer. But that's neither here nor there. They tell me you're a bright fellow..."
There is a deliberate, heavy pause.
"The more I get ready for the match, the more I think about you, Rupp. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. I just know that I hate you. Don’t worry, you haven’t done anything specific to offend me. And I don't hate you much- not enough that I'll even remember your name after I win the match, ya know? Just enough that I'll enjoy it a little more. We're more alike than you might think, though... for instance, you claim to have Asperger's, I accept that I'm a smart asshole... if I'd been born ten years later during the generation that needs specialized terms for things as simple as assholish behavior, I'd probably have the same title. I'm not saying you're faking it- I'm saying that it's sad being a socially inept douchebag qualifies as a disability worth mentioning these days."
Snake takes a drag, starts to speak, but instead stands. He walks into the building, turns his key in the penthouse elevator, and rides to the top, still silent. Stepping out into his home, he claps twice, which apparently turns on the stereo. Why a World Champion would own... and use... a Clapper... is a question for the ages. Cavenaugh walks to the kitchen, opens the fridge, and pulls out a giant bottle of water while something by Beethoven plays over the speaker. The man lifts his head, takes a pull from his water, and smiles... an expression that does not come close to touching his cool blue eyes.
"To paraphrase George Carlin, I don't have pet-peeves... I have major psychotic issues. There aren't little things that kind of bug me... there are little things that drive me absolutely, completely, totally batshit fucking crazy."
Cavenaugh picks a single cigarette off the counter, a Bic lighter resting next to it. Snake Eyes snatches the lighter deftly, strikes it without missing a beat, and lights up. He takes a deep drag, exhales slowly, and leans back against the fridge.
"But, if I had pet peeves, one of the toppers would be people who shirk responsibility. I've made a similar speech before, telling people that it's one thing to lose, and another to lose and pretend it's not your fault... but it bears repeating. It comes up all the damned time in this business... people saying 'I lost because of' and then saying something that has nothing to do with them. Or, they'll say 'I didn't want this.' Shit, I made the same speech a few days ago about Jason Jousma."
Snake pauses, tilting his chin down slightly.
"'I didn't want this.' Like everything in their life, every action they take, wasn't designed to further their career. Like they actually didn't think about the impact on their career before booking a late flight, or eating too much the night before, or whatever else."
Yes, Cavenaugh seems to not believe anyone does anything without thinking about the impact it will have on their career.
"The thing is, for everyone, every decision they've ever made... every option they've taken... has led them to this moment."
Snake takes a sip of his water, and a drag of his cigarette.
"At Outside Assault, Rupp. one of us will walk out with the NWA World Championship. That's what it all boils down to, my man... one winner, one loser. And the next morning,
when the sun rises, we'll both have to accept what's happened. One of us will look at the World Championship, knowing that they're the best in the world... and the other will look at their empty hands and wonder how they fell so far so fast."
Another sip, another drag.
"Now, I know a part of you... let's drop the games, my man, we all know I only mean you, and we all know I don't think I'm going to lose... will want to offer excuses. Part of you will think that you can shirk the loss and make it meaningless. You'll say you were distracted, or the ref wasn't straight with his calls, or you'll say that you had an injury before the match... but you can't do that. I'm not saying you won't... I'm saying you can't."
Cavenaugh stands straight, walks over to the couch, and takes a seat. He plays with a remote, presumably one that controls the stereo, but makes no changes.
"The reason you can't, Rupp, is because this moment is too important... too important for me, but that doesn't matter to you... it's too important to you. This night... October twelfth... is the night you learn all the sacrifices, all the pain, all the training, everything you've given up any semblance of a normal life for was just a waste of time."
By tapping a button, Snake advances to the next song. The Rolling Stones doing the classic Paint It, Black. This is a live version, probably from one of the literally thousands of bootlegs Cavenaugh keeps on hand.
"This is important, my man. It's time for you to take responsibility, and accept that you'll never be the top dog. You beat Natalie Burrows for your belt. Sure, she's a decent enough wrestler... but she wasn't the defending champ. The belt was vacant. She's not someone who's been in that situation before. Someone who's come through fire and been hardened by the challenges. You beat some chick. A nice achievement, but since I won't remember her name tomorrow, I'm willing to say she's not that impressive."
Snake smiles.
"But you've been saying you're the best in the world for a long time. You've been saying you're the best, that you're worthy of the attention you're getting, and slagging off on everyone who's been in my position. Not exactly a new plan, but... it's not a bad plan. It's like teabagging a bear cub in front of it's rabid grizzly mother- you hope the sheer ballsiness and the unexpected quality confuse the grizzly enough that you escape with your life."
It is not everyone who possesses a doctorate in Political Science that can combine fraternity antics with bestiality to form a perfect mental picture.
"But it won't work. It's a common tact, but now it's not about the bullshit words. It's not about you sounding like a big shot. Now, it's the day that you knew would come- a big dogs is coming into your yard, and you're going to have to throw down. And that's another reason this is important for you."
Snake Eyes takes another big swig from his water. "Paint It, Black" comes to an end as "Superstar," as performed by Sonic Youth, begins.
"You've been barking about being great. You're the best. You're not a big fish in a small pond- you're a fucking massive fish in a small pond. You're... well, you know what you say about yourself, right? And at the end of Outside Assault, you'll be flat on your back, looking at the roof, knowing you've given everything you have and come up short. You'll have joined the ludicrously long list of people who've been beaten by Michael 'Snake Eyes' Cavenaugh. Just another name on the list. Average. Normal."
A smile.
"You're going to have to face something very difficult, Rupp. Everything you've done, every boast you've made, every confident strut... it's all going to come crashing down. It'll be the most glorious moment of your life. It'll be the defining moment of your career. You'll know, once and for all, that you're not the best in the world. You'll know that you're just a rank and file guy. And, slowly, you'll fade away. You'll go from the top of the world to the middle of the pack. And that'll be glorious. I'm glad I'll be there to look into your eyes when you're down and out, to watch the last little glimmer fade out. I'm envious... you won't have the expectations, or the demands, or being the best. In less than two short month you'll have gone from king of the world to just another peasant. And that makes it a monumental moment in your life."
Snake Eyes crushes his cigarette out on the coffee table, which, again, is acceptable here. He leans forward, smiling his reptilian grin.
"We're going to the most important moment of your life, my friend. The defining moment. And you have no idea how happy I am to be a part of it... but I must insist you treat it like it is. Next week, don't show up and talk about how it was dumb luck, or anything else... accept that you've learned your proper place in the pecking order. Accept that it's a glorious moment, giving up everything, and finding yourself freed from the demands of greatness. And accept that I'll have proven, once again, that I'm the one who'll shoulder the responsibility of being the standard-bearer."
The smile almost touches his eyes as a mouthful of water goes down.
"It'll be an important moment, Rupp... for both of us. Don't cheapen it. Don't let it be nothing. Don't try to make it meaningless. Just embrace it."
The smile fades from "The History Maker's" face.
"I will... if it's my moment instead."
Fittingly, "The End" by the Doors is the next song on the playlist. Cavenaugh leans back, resting on his couch.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, it's time for a shower."
Somewhere, on some sheet of paper, metaphysical or real, there exists an entry of "Fire off harsh words" and "Shower," one after the other. One is checked, and now it's time to move on. Thus continues the life and times of Michael "Snake Eyes" Cavenaugh.
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Post by ruppy on Oct 11, 2010 0:55:39 GMT -5
Aaron Rupp Journal Entry Friday, October 8, 2010
TGW will soon have a very special event taking place. At this event, TGW has invited the CWC North American Champion and all the NWA champions here to defend their titles to see if anybody in True Glory Wrestling has what it takes to win a prestigious championship that is defending in wrestling companies all around the world. And for being the TGW Champion as well as undefeated, I have been granted the opportunity to challenge for the big one... the NWA World Heavyweight Championship. Not only that, but instead of getting to destroy the ego of Jason Jousma to give the title a respectful owner who would treat the belt with honor and not like a piece of property, I get the honor of challenging for the title against Michael Cavenaugh, an 18-year veteran of this sport. I'm looking forward to a great and respectful match with a living legend.
Well... I really wanted to go with that last line, but after seeing what Cavenaugh thinks I am and how blinded he is by the ego born out of his vast amount of experience, it looks like I'm having a change of heart about this match. Don't get me wrong, I still respect Cavenaugh as a competitor. His attitude, however, is a whole different story.
Either Cavenaugh hasn't actually truly studied me as well as he claims he has, though I'm sadly doubting he's really studied at all, or all the footage he has of me is from a few years ago when I wasn't the honorable competitor on a mission to destroy egotism and bring respectful competition back to wrestling, but rather your typical kid looking to make a name for himself in this business by winning titles and trying to come up with excuses to make all those losses seem like either they never happened or he got screwed when he really didn't. This is a huge disappointment for me, as I've spent a lot of time studying his matches and preparing for a hell of a battle. Am I guilty of not paying attention to what he's like when he's not wrestling? I'll admit to it. But I'd really hoped that someone with his vast amount of experience would be able to show me respect because we'd want the same thing: a clean, honest match.
Sadly... Michael 'Snake Eyes' Cavenaugh is just another legend too high on that fact. Initially, the thought of ending his NWA World Title reign in his first defense didn't sit well with me. But looking at how he wants to treat me, and looking back at almost every title reign of mine and seeing it end in my very first defense after I worked my ass off to win it in the first place... I'm just going to let fate deal the cards and see whether Snake Eyes deserves a lesson in humility or if I say my piece and see if he corrects his mistakes.
Well... time to go make my big address. And after I finish, the ball will be in Cavenaugh's court. Hopefully, he chooses wisely in how he'll want to handle me afterwards... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As the scene opens, we find Aaron Rupp standing in his attic-turned-promo room within his home, standing in front of a TGW Outside Assault banner. If anyone was wondering how serious Aaron was going to be coming into this match, the way he’s dressed would provide the answer that he’s more serious and focused than he usually is, and he was pretty damn focused to begin with. Aaron is actually wearing a suit. The black dress pants, the forest green button-up shirt, the black suitcoat, the black velvet tie… hell, he’s even got black dress shoes on. For those who have never followed Aaron Rupp before: Aaron never wears a suit, let alone dresses up this good, unless he either has to because ‘formal dress’ is required, or if he wants to make a point to his opponent that he’s more than dead serious about their upcoming match. The latter appears to be true in this case, considering Aaron’s going up against an 18-year veteran of this sport for the NWA World Heavyweight Championship. Aaron’s own championship, the TGW Championship to be exact, presently rests upon his right shoulder. His emerald eyes are staring straight into the camera with a look of determination as he begins to speak.“I’ve been wrestling for five years, and during those five years I’d say I accomplished a lot. I’ve won various titles, I’ve pulled off upsets over people who I was supposed to get destroyed by… and on the flip side of that coin I’ve lost quite a few times and sometimes was brutalized to the point where something had been broken or strained or torn, etc. But through it all, I’m still here and I’m still motivated to keep pushing toward my goal. Most of you know by now what my goal is, but for those who are new, I’ll talk about it a little later. But while this goal is my main focus in this business now, there is one thing that has eluded me in my entire career, and that’s a world title. Am I proud to be the TGW Champion? Of course I am. But winning it only put a partial end to my drought, and that’s because this belt isn’t considered a world championship but rather the top title of True Glory Wrestling. But I’m not going to throw this belt away just to pursue an actual world title to fill that void. That would be selfish and arrogant of me. I’ll continue holding this belt and defending it with the honor and respect it deserves until I can find someone who shares these same ideals and pass the torch on to them so they can continue what I started.
Those who have never seen me before are probably wondering why in the hell I’d say something like that. If I’m a champion, shouldn’t I come out and talk about how nobody can ever beat me and take this belt away from me? I guess I might as well reveal to all of you what my true goal is, and it has absolutely nothing to do with titles. No… the goal I strive for in this business is to rid it of the arrogance and egotism that is slowly killing it like a cancer. Wrestling fans come to see people wrestle and put on the best show they possibly can, not to see a bunch of guys strut around talking about how ‘great’ they are and watch them bend the rules every which way just to try and win. Is a win really worth making yourself look like a pompous jackass, regardless of whether or not it’s for a title belt? To me these days, a championship is no more than an accomplishment. All it shows me is how far I’ve come in this business since my very first match, how much I’ve grown and matured since that first day when I was just another bright-eyed rookie looking to be the best and nothing else. And looking at me now, I’d say I matured quite a lot since the beginning, especially considering I’m a lot more mature than most of the wrestlers you see out there in the world today.”Aaron slowly shakes his head at this sad-but-true fact, feeling a little disgusted at the thought of some ‘great’ wrestlers out there that don’t act like champions but rather like two-year-olds. He takes a deep breath to rid his mind of that thought before continuing on.“At TGW’s special upcoming pay-per-view, I have been given a golden opportunity to etch my name into the annals of history with some of the greatest wrestlers to walk the earth. Come Outside Assault, I have been given a shot at the prestigious NWA World Heavyweight Title against a legend in this business, a man with 18 years of experience… the man known as Michael ‘Snake Eyes’ Cavenaugh. I was looking forward to this match, being given the chance to have a classic and respectful battle against a legend who had been around long enough to know how this business works and what the fans, the lifeblood of the wrestling business, want to see. I was ready to go out there and give more than the 200% I usually give for those fans, not to win the World Title but to see where I matched up against a legend. Would I love to win the NWA World Title? Of course I would, since it would finally allow me to say that at one point in my career, I was a world champion. It’s been four years since the only other time I had a world title opportunity, but that one was a disaster since I only got the shot because the boss wanted to send her top man after me and make me seem like I could be a world champion only to crush all my hopes and silence me once and for all. By all accounts, I should’ve won that match. I was ready for the upset of a lifetime, and then the boss freaks out and sends one of her other lackeys after me to assault me while the ref was distracted and led to me being driven into the mat and pinned. This time, I know I’ve earned this opportunity, and I’m honored to face someone who’s been in this business for as long as Michael Cavenaugh has. There is so much I could learn from just the time I spend wrestling against him…
Well… that’s what I was hoping for. But it looks like once again, I got my hopes up about being able to face someone who wanted to help make this business better instead of wanting to destroy it with how ‘great’ they are.”Aaron lets out a sigh and slowly shakes his head. He was under the belief that Michael Cavenaugh, being a legend of this sport, would be willing to give Aaron what he really wanted – an honorable battle that was truly worthy of being for a title as prestigious and longstanding as the NWA World Heavyweight Title. But it looks like Cavenaugh both didn’t do his research on Ruppy very well and let his huge experience advantage give him a big ego, both of which were major mistakes Aaron was going to have to make him pay for.“Michael ‘Snake Eyes’ Cavenaugh… a man who’s been wrestling for 18 years, a man I expected a lot more out of. But when I heard what he had to say regarding me, I honestly needed to watch his promo a second time to make sure I heard him correctly. Sadly, I did. A man I wanted to respect so much because of how long he’s been doing this… actually tried speaking to me just like every other egotistical asshole that I’ve successfully silenced time and time again. I really hate to say this, but Mike Cavenaugh is proof of how far this once proud sport has fallen because of the presence of huge egos. Instead of a great match that’s worthy of possibly being the best match for the NWA World Title in recent memory, I now have to shift gears and get right back to work by putting an end to Cavenaugh’s ego and showing him that while I may not be as big as him or as experienced, I have the kind of heart and fighting spirit that’ll make him have to damn near kill me if he wants to walk away with that belt still around his waist.
You think people are telling me that this is my big moment Michael? This is my time to shine? Sorry, but you’ve obviously never met the large number of critics I’ve had to put up with and constantly try to prove wrong since I first started wrestling. Even now they’re telling me that in going up against you, I’m going to get my ass handed to me on a silver platter. They’re telling me that I’m going to take this huge opportunity and blow it, just like I have in the past. Remember that ‘you’ve got to lose to know how to win’ line you said yourself? I guess my undefeated record in TGW up to this point is proof that I’ve finally learned enough to put together a great run for myself now. You want the honest truth? While I haven’t kept a full record of all my matches in the five years I’ve been wrestling, I know just from a general overview of the time I spent in each company I’ve been a part of that my career record has a loss column that’s at least double, or possibly even triple, the amount of wins I’ve been able to obtain. People have called me the ‘living definition of failure’ before, a title I hated but gradually came to accept once I stopped making up excuses for my losses and started learning from them and improving dramatically until I became what I am today.
You heard me right Snake Eyes… if you were looking for the Aaron Rupp who made excuses every time he lost, you’d have to rewind about two or three years. The Aaron Rupp you’re looking at now doesn’t care about wins and losses. If I lose to you, it’s not going to be the end of the world. I’m not going to blame the referee or anybody. I’ll only have myself to blame, and I’ll take that blame and turn it into a long study session of our match so that I can keep getting better.
Am I the best TGW has to offer? That’s just a matter of opinion. You’ve already made your opinion known that I’m not the best TGW has to offer, and to an extent I agree with you. I say that because I only believe myself to be the best because I’m the only one in this company at this current point that has the right attitude. I respect this sport, those fans, and the title I hold right now, and it’s because I am a respectful competitor where no one else is that I am the best in TGW. If we were talking about talent, I’d be the first to admit that I’m not the best despite my record here. There’s so much I can do to continue improving with every match that goes by. If we were talking about intelligence, then I would admit to not being the smartest guy on the roster. Why? I’ll get into that later, so just be patient. The point is, the only thing that makes me the best in my mind is because I actually care about this business and want to return it to the product it once was so the fans can have more people than just me who will play fair and fight for them and what they want. Ignore that, and I’m far from the best there is. Even if I were to defeat you and become the NWA World Champion, I still wouldn’t be the best wrestler out there. As long as I still have room to improve myself in that ring, then I’m not the best.”Aaron cracks his neck from side to side as he takes a moment to reflect on all the studying and preparation he’s had to do for this match alone. His intention going into the battle with Michael Cavenaugh was not to win, but to take the legend to his limits and show how much he cared about this business and how much he wanted to give those fans their money’s worth in ways beyond just an amazing match. If he ended up winning in the end, then he ended up winning. It was as simple as that.“You think all the time I’ve put into this business was a waste of time Mike? You’re just like every one of my critics who have told me for years that I should just be smart and quit this business. You wanted to know why I said I wasn’t the smartest guy around despite being pretty smart in my own right? I ignored them when I probably should’ve listened to them and quit. But quitting is just something I don’t do, and I’ve actually come to enjoy ignoring the critics as I’ve improved by leaps and bounds since then. I’ll even give you further proof that sometimes I’d rather let my heart and will make a decision for me instead of my brain. You want to say that all the pain I’ve endured is a waste of time? I suffered a broken neck at the hands of another man who called himself a legend just so he could get out of wrestling against me later that night. Against doctor’s orders, I came back to the arena in a neck brace and competed anyway. Did I win? No, but I still put on the kind of performance in my weakened and injured state against this man that most of his opponents at 100% couldn’t have. Even after that match, I continued wrestling with a broken neck. In another company, I got into a heated war against a lunatic who loved hurting people any way he could, even if it was illegal in a match and even sometimes against the law itself. The first time we met, he got so upset that I nearly defeated him with a surprise roll-up that he literally tried to rip my left eye out of my skull, and actually came close to succeeding before the referees and security finally stopped him. Even with sight in only one eye, I continued wrestling every chance I got against doctor’s orders. Were these stupid decisions? In retrospect, yes they were. But they were living proof of how much heart I have and how much I cared about this business.
You want to try and tell me my TGW Title reign isn’t worth anything just because I won the belt while it was vacant? Natalie Burrows gave me something I was hoping to get from you and apparently won’t get, and that’s a match between two honorable and respectful competitors who were fighting for those fans. Twice, Natalie gave me that kind of battle, and I respect her for it. But surprise, surprise… you’re going to say that she doesn’t matter because you won’t remember her. I guess it’s kind of hard to remember anything important when you’re so high on your vast amount of experience that you easily confuse numerous people with each other. Have you even bothered taking a good look at me at all leading up to our match? Even if you say yes, I’ll know you’re lying. Know how? You spent a good couple of minutes ranting on and on about how I’ve been saying that I’m the best in the world and I deserve everything I’ve gotten and all that bullshit. You obviously have me confused with someone who lives in his own ego-born kingdom where he claims to be all the things you talked about. Me? I’m the complete opposite of all of that. I fight not to be a champion, not to win, but to end egos and allow respectful competition in the sport of professional wrestling to be reborn. I am a one man liberation front that is slowly but surely achieving my mission of cleaning up this sport from the poison called ego that has been slowly killing it for a long time. And like it or not, you’re next on the list of egos that need destroyed.
I seriously hope my words will get through to you and make you rethink everything you’ve said Cavenaugh. At Outside Assault, I’m not going to guarantee a victory. I know that I may or may not win our match and the NWA World Title. But while you may end my chances of becoming NWA World Champion, you’ll never put an end to my mission. I care too much about the wrestling business to watch it die because of people who don’t respect the very canvas they stand upon. As long as I can make you rethink what you believe I am and make you see that I’m not the trash you claim I am but rather a man of respect… as long as I can make you leave the TGW ring with your ego shattered… then I don’t care if I win or lose. In that sense, I’ll be seen as the ultimate winner for accomplishing what I really set out to do, even if you still have the title.
You may not understand it… but you’re going to accept it at Outside Assault.”Aaron closes his eyes and lowers his head as the scene slowly fades to black.
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Post by snakeeyes on Oct 11, 2010 18:48:35 GMT -5
A hotel, near the site of Outside Assault, where National Wrestling Alliance World Heavyweight Champion Michael "Snake Eyes" Cavenaugh has made a lair. Cavenaugh is standing in a well-furnished kitchen, which is one of the luxuries provided by extended-stay hotels designed for the traveling executive. "The Living Legend" is wearing a black t-shirt, bearing the artwork from the cover of Dark Side of the Moon, a pair of ratty and torn blue jeans, and a smirk. There is a brown paper bag on the counter, turned just enough to insure that no logo is visible. "The History Maker" is opening and closing drawers, obviously in search of something in particular. Muttering something unintelligible to himself, Cavenaugh slams a drawer, walking away for a second. When he returns, Snake Eyes is carrying a round black lump, which he gingerly sets on the counter. He speaks, to anyone and no one.
"Cooking is probably my only real hobby. I mean, I'm a pro-athlete. I don't have a lot of time to go to concerts, or movies... and when I do have time, I get recognized and the whole thing becomes less fun. I'm not asking for sympathy there, because I chose to be famous... but still, it's a pain in the ass. Like I said, I'm a professional athlete, so I was already eating an immense amount of food every day... so I figured why not start cooking for myself? At first it was just because I needed to eat- I was fueling up. Now, it's a pleasure. It's not just for me to refuel, it's for me to relax, concentrate, and center myself. Some people go to church, some go to yoga, some go to music stores... I cook."
Michael opens the black lump, which is apparently a knife roll, the type favored by executive chefs the world over. Removing a large, wicked-sharp looking blade, Mike smiles. Bouncing the knife from hand to hand, he continues.
"Cooking is similar to wrestling, in some ways, for me at least. There are many different steps, each important, and each needing to be completed before moving on. It all starts with the pre-prep stage, which is what I'm doing now. Selecting the knife to be used... which for me is easy, since it's always my twelve inch chef's blade... making sure it's sharp and properly honed, gathering ingredients and other tools..."
Snake Eyes picks up a steel, designed to hone the blade of the knife, and presses it against the counter. With his other hand he begins to run the knife along the steel, as if carving a turkey. As he is honing the knife, he speaks.
"It's like my pre-match prep... gathering the film available on my opponent, getting transcripts of everything they've said publicly, putting a list of their moves together, reading my notes on previous matches with them... all the things that have to be done before I can even start the actual preparation for the match."
Satisfied with the blade, Michael rinses it off under cold water. The bandage on his hand does not seem to be hindering his movements in any way. Snake reaches into the brown bag, pulling out a clove of garlic. After setting the blade flat against the clove, Cavenaugh whacks it with his heel, cracking the shell. Moving the blade aside, he continues to speak as he peels the garlic.
"Then there's the monotonous phase... chopping onions, grinding spices, peeling garlic... all the things people complain about. I love it, though. I love the monotony, the way you can let your mind wander away as you roll through the mindless repetition. I suppose it appeals to my meticulous nature... and it gives me free time to think while my hands are otherwise occupied."
The garlic peeled, Snake picks up the knife and begins to rapidly chop the garlic, knife a blur as it slices the garlic wafer thin.
"Plus, knife work, which is a part of this stage, is something you can watch getting better. It's like road work, or weight work before matches... it's mindless, repetitive, and people hate it. But it's important, and it becomes mindless, and I love doing it. I absolutely love the time to think."
With the garlic shaved in what must be almost record time, Cavenaugh scrapes the slivers into a bowl. Next out of the traditional brown paper grocery bag is a large onion. Snake chops the top and bottom off the onion, removes the outer skin, and places the onion on the counter, resting on the now-flat bottom. With quick, strong slices Snake quarters the onion, leaving just enough at the bottom to hold the onion together. Flipping the onion on its side, Mike begins mincing the onion, the knife once again turning into nothing more than a blur.
"When you start running, every mile is torture. Every rep in the weight room is agony... and you hurt yourself every six seconds or so, it seems. Every time you run you get a blister, or tweak a hammy, or some other minor little injury. It's the same with knife work... at first it takes forever and you don't seem to do a very good job. You cut your fingers repeatedly, annoying little cuts that barely bleed, but hurt like a mother. But as you continue, you get better... you learn how to run without hurting yourself. You buy extra-thick socks and nicer shoes. You wrap your wrists when you're doing big lifts... and you start getting a lot faster."
The onion minced, Snake scrapes it into the garlic bowl. He next pulls a package of chicken breasts out of the bag, tossing the three pounds of raw chicken onto the counter. He begins chopping the chicken into cubes as he continues.
"It happens in the ring, too... you start off worrying, and you start off slow... but you speed up. You quite thinking about being hurt. But just like with anything else, the better you get, the more likely you'll get seriously hurt. With knife work, you stop getting the little, tiny nicks... and you start slicing the living crap out of yourself when your knife slips. It's the quick, confident strokes that give you cuts to the bone... just like when you get good on the road you only get hurt when it's a freak thing and it's always a bad injury, or how in the weight room minor little tweaks give way for major tears. Or in the ring. The better you get, the more severe the injuries."
Snake pulls a package of butter out of the bag, along with a little plastic baggy filled with assorted herbs and spices. Smiling, Snake takes a pan down from a hook and sets it on the stove, turning the knob to light the fire. With the heat on high, Snake dumps the butter into the pan, letting it melt. As he watches it, he speaks.
"And just like wrestling, the main event, the actual cooking, is the easiest part. Getting in the ring is the easy part... if you've done your prep work. If you've done the time in the film room, done your road work, spent the time in the weight room... then you've done everything you can do to put yourself in a position to win. And that's all you can do. Like now... I've chopped the garlic. I've chopped the onions. The herbs and spices are mixed and ready. The chicken is cut. The butter is melting. There are four lemons in the bag to be squeezed in... watch this TV trick..."
Snake pulls a freezer bag out of the grocery bag, with four pre-cut lemons in them. Each lemon has been quartered for easy slicing.
"There's nothing more I can do. It's the same with getting in the ring. The butter's melted, so now it's time to sauté..."
Cavenaugh dumps the garlic and onion into the pan, turning the heat down to medium and picking up a spatula to stir.
"But every meal is a little different- maybe the lemons have a different taste, or maybe the oregano is surprisingly strong. The art of cooking is figuring out how to push those flavors in the direction you want them to go- making them conform to your idea of what the dish should taste like. You can't let lemons that aren't quite as acidic as they should be dictate the taste- you have to use an extra bit, cut the salt slightly, and maybe up the garlic to bring the flavor back in line. Just like sometimes, when you're prepping for a match, you have to bring a person down a notch, put them in the angry, upset, disrespected mindset, and have them in a position where they're pissed at you and not thinking clearly."
Snake smirks, stirring the garlic and onions a few times.
"Now, Rupp, you'll no doubt assume I'm doing some covering of my ass, by saying that I want you pissed at me, that I want you to think I don't respect you, that I want you to think I look at you the same way I look at the hundreds of other people I've stood across the ring from. The thing is, I do see you the same way. To me, you're the exact same as David Dunn was two years ago, or Jason Stallion three years ago, or Diesel Warren or X-Calibre or Diamond Mine or... you get the point. Guys who were trying to convince the world they cared about honor, or integrity, or defending some bullshit idea... but really just wanted to win a match."
Cavenaugh looks at the onions and garlic, checking to see if they are caramelized yet. Satisfied with the caramelization, Snake dumps the chicken in, causing a hiss and a flash of steam. Tossing quickly, he begins browning the chicken.
"Here's the thing... you talk about being different. You tell me you've changed, you're not the cocky, arrogant, douchebag fuck that I took an instant dislike too while watching tapes. I call bullshit. See, that's the thing about people... they don't change. They might act different, they might even think they're different... but they're not. By the time we're fifteen or so we're basically hard wired. Some of us are assholes... and you, my friend, are cut from that cloth. Just like me. It's not a bad thing, but telling me you're now a sweet, nice guy who only cares about integrity and such bullshit is, to be blunt, a fucking insult."
Snake dumps the baggie of herbs and spices onto the chicken and pulls out a lemon to juice. He continues to cook his dinner, although his tone has turned slightly more aggressive.
"Look, Aaron... I don't give a fuck what you tell women to convince them to put your pipe between their lips. I don't care what you tell the people of TGW, or the inbred hicks that crawl into the seats in any given arena. But don't shit a shitter- you want to win. You want to be champion, not just of True Glory, but of the whole fuckin' show... and you'd sell your mother into slavery for the chance. Just... like... I would. There's no disgrace in wanting to be the best. There's no shame in being willing to go further than anyone else, dive deeper, or to take advantages other's wouldn't dream of. It's part of the journey to being the best- to being on top of the mountain. And if you think there's any fucking chance I won't use every opportunity I'm given, then you're a fucking moron. And if you expect me to believe that, should the chance present itself, you won't step outside the rulebook to win the match... well, then, you think I'm a moron... and I've got issues with that."
Snake flips the pan, moving the chicken again. He turns the heat down, letting the meat simmer as he continues.
"There's an old fable by my main man Aesop. To paraphrase, an old woman is walking in the winter and she sees a baby viper. She picks it up, feels sorry for it because it's damned near frozen, and holds it to her chest to warm it up. As soon as it gets back to a normal temperature it bites her right in the fucking throat. As she's dying, she asks the snake 'Why'd you do that? I only helped you!' and the viper says 'You dumb bitch, you knew I was a viper when you picked me up.' And the reason I mention it, besides the fact I like the story, is this... you're embracing this idea that you're a crusader. That it's physically possible to give more than one hundred percent. The fans are probably buying it- shit, I knew a guy who literally fucked his sister, called the fans morons, and got cheered, so it's not like you're fooling Mensa members- but I'm not. You're the same guy you've always been, Rupp... someone who's a pompous fuck, just like me."
Snake checks a piece of chicken, finds it not quite done, and continues.
"Look, my man, when I told you you were going to lose... there's no more disrespect than any other time I address someone I find inferior. It's a fact. When I told you to accept it, embrace it, and love it... well, isn't that what you've been talking about all along, kiddo? Respect, bringing back something that never existed in wrestling, acknowledging that the better man made you tap in the center of the ring? Why exactly did you find that so offensive? Is it because you're still the same arrogant asshole I said you were?"
Snake smirks, turning the heat down further, leaving the chicken to simmer. He walks to the refrigerator, pulls out a beer, twists off the top, and takes a deep pull. Satisfied, he continues.
"But let's not worry about that right now, my friend. Let's not think about the fact you're pissed I'm not fooled. Instead, let's do a call-back to something I said before. I talked about moments before... well, Aaron, moments are all life is. One moment after another. One moment. One moment can change everything. In one moment you're born, going from a fetus, a concept, to a person. On the other end, one moment you're alive and breathing, the next you're not. These are dramatic examples... but there are millions of little moments that define a life... or a career."
A brief pause, another sip.
"That's all life is- a collection of moments. Some big, some small. Some moments change everything. Some are good... first steps, first words, first kiss, first marriage, graduations. Some are bad... first fall, first heartbreak, first failure, first pain. Some are unimaginable, beyond good or bad... the first time death touches your life, the first time you feel an unquestioning love."
Cavenaugh pauses, perhaps remembering a lost love, or perhaps thinking of snapping someone's arm. His eyes reveal nothing, as usual.
"And that's what a wrestling career is- a microcosm of life. First match, first win, first title... first step, first kiss, first fuck. A career is a collection of moments, some good, some bad, and some that change everything."
Cavenaugh runs a hand through his hair, sets the beer on the counter, pulls a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his jeans, and shakes one free. After completing the ritual of lighting up, he continues.
"Sports, in general, turn on moments. Kirk Gibson walks onto the field in the World Series. Right there, that's a career-defining moment, even if he strikes out. But he doesn't strike out- he hits a walk-off home run. And in that one moment, Gibson went from a guy who'd had a fine career to an immortal. Every year, that at bat gets discussed. Some moments not only change everything, they go so far as to become a part of our collective memories."
A drag.
"One moment can change a career. Willis Reed walks onto the court, barely able to move, scores just four points... but the fact he walked onto the court at all gave his team the lift it needed. His mere presence lifted his team up, and he turned himself from a ham-and-egger into one of the immortals, one of the guys people talk about for years and never forget."
Cavenaugh has obviously chosen to ignore the fact that Reed's numbers support his induction into the Hall of Fame. Maybe he had only four points in game seven of that series, but it was the capstone to an MVP campaign.
"Sometimes a moment can kick off an entire career, when it's not even your moment. Tom Brady leads a fourth quarter drive against the Rams, marching down the field to position his team to win a Super Bowl, and in that one moment when Vinatari's kick flies through the uprights Brady goes from a nobody from Michigan to the NFL's golden boy."
Again, Cavenaugh seems to purposely ignore the more recent example of Eli Manning's drive to lead the Giants to victory. Perhaps a bit of fanaticism at work.
"And sometimes, even in sports, moments go the other way. Rafael Palmeiro slams his fist down and says he didn't use steroids... and, retroactively, that moment turns him from a three thousand hit, five hundred homer first ballot Hall of Fame to a bum."
Cavenaugh takes a deep drag, holds it, and mutters something foul under his breath, a condemnation of the character of Palmeiro's mother and her choice of sexual partners.
"Sometimes moments are so big they change the course of not just the player, not just one or two other players, but an entire organization. Wide right. Steve Christie, who was one of the most accurate kickers of all time, shanks one massive, long, pressure-filled kick and all of a sudden he's a choke artist. That one miss probably pushed him out of the Hall of Fame. Christie makes that kick and the Bills win at least one Super Bowl. Jim Kelly doesn't have that big black mark on his career. The history of an entire franchise was changed by one moment."
Snake picks up the beer, takes a sip, sets it down, and continues.
"And then there are the moments that change not only sports, but the world... the most famous sports moment of all time... a double homicide in Brentwood."
A heavy silence, broken only by a drag from the cigarette.
"You usually don't know when you're getting a life, or career, or history, changing moment. Usually, the moment comes out of nowhere... or you make it happen. And sometime during our match Aaron, one of those moments will happen. Something will happen that will forever impact our careers. One of us will capitalize on the moment, grab the win, and one of us will lose."
Cavenaugh smiles broadly, eyes locked somewhere far in the distance.
"Maybe it'll be you taking your place on top of the mountain. Putting aside the haters, the doubters... doing exactly what I did a few weeks ago. Aaron, despite my dislike for you, you're one win away from demanding the spot as the premiere wrestler in the world."
Drag, sip, speak.
"Or maybe this is another Snake Eyes moment... another notch on my legendary belt. Another challenger dismissed, another win over another amazing athletes, and just a sliver of redemption. A chance for me to go to bed at night knowing that I'm not a one shot wonder with the big belt. That I really have put a decade of crumbling in the big match behind me."
Snake checks the chicken. Seemingly please with how it's coming, he continues.
"There's no holding back for either of us tomorrow night. If I can trust you... which I don't, but for the sake of conversation we'll say I can... there won't be any excuses after the match... just a winner, and a loser. Make no mistake, my friend, this is going to be a war. It's going to be a war of attrition. There will be someone who gets their hand raised, a winner, but they'll look an awful lot like a mere survivor. That's a term that gets thrown around a lot... guys like Sean Cain and Ric Righteous can't get through a week without telling someone to pray they survive. But me... take a look at what I've said in the last ten years of my career. How many times have I told someone to prepare for war? How many times have I told someone that there won't be a winner, but just a survivor?"
Snake pauses, giving time for a hypothetical conversation partner to think about it.
"Less than five."
"The Living Legend" pauses, considering his next words.
"You're not ready, Rupp. You think you are. You think you know what you're getting into. You think that you're ready to step into the ring with me. You're not. I don't fuck around, Aaron. If I can, I'm going to hurt you. Nothing personal, but hurting you puts me at an advantage. If you show a weakness, I'll exploit it. You've never played with someone like me, Rupp. This... this is my last run. My last time with a title. And I will do anything to protect it. I don't care about your career, or anything else. How many times have you been in the ring with someone who has shown, time and again, that they're willing to do anything to win? How many times have you fought someone with everything to lose? Someone fighting for their legacy... someone defending the only NWA World title they'll ever get. Someone who will cheerfully smash you in the face with a chair, bite chunks of skin out of your forehead, and break as many bones as he can just for a sliver of an improvement to his own situation. Someone who does not give a fuck if you ever wrestle again. We're going to war, Aaron. It'll hurt. It'll be bloody. Someone will walk away with the title, their life forever changed. And someone will be carried off, their time in the sun over, back down the ladder to hope that lightning gets caught in the bottle one more time. One of us will walk out, legendary status secure. One of us will leave quietly, without fanfare."
Cavenaugh removes the pan from the heat, finishes his cigarette, and tosses it carelessly aside. He smiles.
"I'm sure you think I'm a harmless old man who doesn't get you, rambling on, making threats... and I'm sure you're angry. You know you're still the hotheaded fuck that will do anything to win. And that's the Aaron Rupp I want to show up. Don't talk to me about being respectful and that bullshit. Show me you can fight. Stand with me, toe to toe, and show me you're half the fucking warrior you claim to be. Come and get some. Come find out what it's like to fight with everything you have. And be ready. Be ready, because at some point, somewhere in the match, one moment will determine who goes which way. Just. One. Moment."
Cavenaugh looks at his food. He is standing silently as we end.
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Post by ruppy on Oct 12, 2010 21:50:59 GMT -5
The scene opens up to find a dark room, illuminated only by a lone ceiling lamp hanging from the ceiling. The spotlight produced by this lamp shows the only thing we can see within this room: a wooden table with two wooden chairs at the sides of it. Our attention, though, is focused on what’s currently sitting on the table: a chessboard. It looks like a game was being played here considering the pieces are not at their beginning positions, and to the trained eye of a chess player it would appear that with this set-up, one move from the lone white pawn would force the black king into a checkmate, having nowhere to go without putting itself in check from another nearby piece.
Soft footsteps are heard in the shadows surrounding this illuminated scene, and after a moment we find out who the footsteps belong to as the undefeated TGW Champion, Aaron Rupp, enters the lit area and stands beside the table, staring down at the chess board. His attire consists of a pair of blue jeans and a True Glory Wrestling t-shirt, his title currently situated around his waist. His emerald eyes are roaming over the situation laid out on the board as he takes a deep breath and takes a moment to think through how he wants to begin. Finally, without raising his eyes from the chess board, he begins to speak.
“A lot of people see chess as an incredibly boring game that serves no purpose existing in today's world. Me? I view the game of chess in a different way. I'm one of those people who views certain situations as similar, in a way, to chess. And right now, I see chess as something similar to the war of words between Michael Cavenaugh and myself. I'll admit Mike, you're really not making this easy for me. Then again, I wasn't expecting you to. After all, you’re seen by many as a legend in this business. And what am I? To you, I’m just some kid who’s recently becomes the luckiest S.O.B. on the face of the Earth. To you, I don’t deserve this match despite all the dedication I have given to this business, despite all the improvement I’ve had both in the ring and in my attitude throughout the years. But think of how our verbal battle has played out thus far in terms of a chess match. As everyone knows, chess is all about strategy. You need to be thinking about your next possible moves at all times. And checks never last too long. You're always trying to plan out the move that'll give you the checkmate and the victory. But your opponent is vying for the same thing, and a move he makes could disrupt your entire plan. That's why you always have to be altering your gameplan just in case. And wrestling is no different. You never know what your opponent will do next, and what he does may disrupt your entire strategy. I’ll admit that the gameplan Cavenaugh has tried for dealing with me is a farcry from how everyone else has decided to try and address me. But sadly, Cavenaugh is not the first person to question my integrity, and I know he won’t be the last.”
Aaron slowly shakes his head and lets out a sigh. His head slowly rises to allow his emerald eyes to stare straight into the camera. Despite what Cavenaugh was probably hoping for, there is no look of anger on Rupp’s face, nor does he appear to be upset. His face has no emotion to it at all, so we are unable to tell what is truly going through his head right now.
“Mike, you’ve proceeded to take my change of heart and ideals and call bullshit. You went off on a rant about how people can never change because they are incapable of doing so. Sorry Mike, but nothing is impossible. I’m sure you’ve heard that line many times throughout your career, haven’t you? I bet you yourself have used it a few times to try and get your point across to people who doubted you and believe you were incapable of doing something. I bet that’s what you were aiming to prove when you won the NWA World Title from Jason Jousma, wasn’t it? Everybody looked at you as an old man that was way past his prime and told you that you don’t deserve that shot, that it was impossible for you to beat someone that was younger and more capable of moving around the ring like a lion. And what did you do? You proved that what everyone thought was impossible for you to pull off was entirely possible when you pinned Jousma’s shoulders to the mat. And after that, you’re going to turn around and tell me that it’s not only impossible for me to beat you, but it’s impossible for me to change? I’m sorry Mike, but I’m going to have to call bullshit on that. If people couldn’t change, then nobody would be capable of improving their skills with each passing day, and this sport would only consist of people that were in their prime and born with natural talent for this business instead of having to work their asses off day in and day out to be able to handle those higher levels of competition. That rules both of us out, since I’m willing to bet that with all of the things you’ve said about what you do to prepare for your matches that you weren’t born with a natural gift for wrestling. And I’ll be the first to admit that I was not only born without any God-given talent for wrestling, but I was also born without any of that for any sports. Yet I still competed in them, I still worked my ass off and improved constantly, and now I am where I am today. Take it as an insult all you want Cavenaugh, but you’re nothing more than a living breathing contradiction of your own words.
Rosanne Cash once said, ‘The key to change is to let go of fear.’ How do you think I was able to change my ways? I stopped being afraid to lose, I stopped fearing failure. Instead… I embraced it. That’s right, I embraced all my failures and instead of writing them off and trying to make up stupid excuses as to why I lost, I accepted the defeats and began to learn from them. I leant what does and doesn’t work, I learned how to deal with certain styles that wrestlers possess… I learned how to be a graceful loser. I know you’re probably sitting there and laughing at me for admitting to that, but it’s the truth. And look at how I’ve turned around since then. Through failure, I changed and began to succeed. Through opening my eyes and taking a thorough look at this business, I changed who I was after learning the truth. You can choose not to believe it, but like it or not it’s the truth. People can change… the reason most people don’t believe that is because they fear change. But going back to what Rosanne Cash said, if you let go of fear then you come to realize that change is indeed possible. Do I want to defeat you at Outside Assault? Of course. But am I’m going to stoop so low to achieve that win? No, I won’t, and that what you have a problem with. I’m not willing to meet you on your level and throw away everything that I am to appease just one person. If you really did look close enough at who I used to be, you’d know that I tried to sell my soul to the devil just to be the best. And how did that turn out? I started out achieving the success I had always wanted, and then everything fell apart and no matter what I tried, no matter how low I was willing to go just to win, victory was still something that eluded me yet again. That was a change in who I was, because I went from a bright-eyed kid willing to do anything to win to becoming a heartless asshole who could and would go farther than I ever could before just for glory. And in the end, by following the path of honor and respect, I have achieved far more than I had ever done before.
I know this is a pretty random little side note to throw in, but I’m curious about your words. Did you only try to say people are born into how they are just because you were trying to show me that I couldn’t change myself from being an asshole? Because there’s another company I used to be a part of that had a woman on its roster that was dominant for years and was always one of the nicest, sweetest people you could ever meet. And recently… she threw that all away to become just another arrogant, uncaring jerk. That change was for the worse, in my opinion, but it’s still someone undergoing change. Figured I’d pass that along to you to see how you’d react if this entire rant of yours was solely to try and make me believe that ‘once an asshole, always an asshole.’”
Aaron frowns and sighs again. That was a sad day for him to see a woman he respected so much and actually enjoyed working with turn her back on everything she was just because she wanted the fans to hate her. His shifts his focus back to the NWA World Champion, though the frown remains upon his face.
“What did I find offensive about what you said Mike? It’s not because you’re right that our match has to have a winner and a loser, and the winner will be the better man. But I have a problem with that ‘better man’ being someone who treats this business like it’s all about him instead of what it’s really about… the fans. Without the fans, wrestling would not be able to enjoy the success it’s had thus far. If nobody comes to watch us, then would that glory be the same? Everything we do is for those fans, who spent their hard-earned money to come watch us give them the best show we possibly can. They deserve to have someone in this business that truly understands that. But take a good look around Michael. Notice anybody like that in BACW at all? I’m part of a dying breed in this business, because I actually care about this business and those fans. Most people these days say they care about the wrestling business but all they really want is to be a champion and parade around with the belt as though it means they’re the greatest wrestler of all time. But I actually care about the fact that this business is slowly dying because it’s starting to become overrun with egotists. This sport is slowly becoming nothing more than a world consisting of various ego-born kingdoms that are constantly at war with one another all because each king or queen considers themselves to be the absolute best in this entire sport. And with each shot fired, the landscape of this business is slowly ripped apart. I can’t stand to see the wasteland this business is slowly turning into. I look at you, and I see just another king living in his own imaginary kingdom that needs a reality check. You may have more of a claim than everyone else that you’re the greatest with how long you’ve been wrestling Mike, but I personally don’t believe you’ve reached that point just yet. If you felt you had, you’d have walked away knowing there was absolutely nothing you had left to prove. But you’re still here…”
Aaron’s eyes slowly wander down to the chess board again as he pauses to think about what he wants to say next to Snake Eyes. He takes a deep breath before returning his gaze to the camera as he carefully leans on the table.
“You really think I’m not ready for this Mike? I’ve been in this situation plenty of times against various opponents. I know that a smart chess player will do everything he can to protect his king and simultaneously look to defeat his opponent. I fought someone before who was a legend in this business and was willing to defend what he had at all costs. Except he didn’t have a title to put on the line, he put his career on the line. He was so cocky, arrogant, and despised by the fans that he put his career on the line and promised to retire permanently if he couldn’t beat me. And just as an insurance policy, at the very beginning of the show he started a brawl amongst others knowing I would come out to take care of him, and he capitalized on it by unfolding a steel chair and making it break and crumple under my weight as I was driven head and neck first into the seat. I went to the hospital and was told my neck had been broken. But I came back later that night, neck brace and all, and competed in that match anyway. And despite wrestling with a broken neck and having it be the obvious target of all his attacks, I pushed him farther than anyone else had ever pushed him before all because he refused to let his career end, despite how much everyone wanted to see him gone. In the end, I was defeated, but I learned so much from that match about how far someone can be pushed to defend something they care deeply about. I’ve been in that situation myself when some jerk tried to destroy my marriage by taking my wife away from me. She means the world to me, and seeing him trying to take her away forced me to fight back like I never had before. I ran off of pure emotion to defend her and made sure she stayed with someone she truly loved instead of a sleezeball. And in case you’re wondering, I’ve faced tons of people who could care less if I ever wrestled again. One guy basically said ‘screw this match’ and got himself intentionally disqualified when he shoved his fingers into my eyesocket and literally tried to rip my left eye right out of my skull. He nearly succeeded but referees and security stopped him in time, though I lost sight in that eye for many months and wrestled with an eyepatch. I’ve had guys that have fought me not wanting to win, but simply to hurt me without caring about the outcome because they all they cared about was trying to cripple everyone that got in their way. They didn’t do it to improve their own situation, they did it because they just don’t give a damn about whether or not their opponents will ever walk again. I know I’m walking into a war, I’ve been in plenty of them despite what you think. But through it all, I’m not afraid of you or what you can do. No matter what you try, I’m going to take the high road. And despite what you think, I’m not doing this to win. If I win, I win. If I lose, I’ll accept defeat and move on. While it would be nice to hold the NWA World Championship, I’m not going to be upset if I lose. As much as I don’t like your attitude Mike, I respect your skills. And all I want to take away from this match, regardless of the outcome, is the knowledge that I earned your respect too.
Don’t get me wrong Mike… I’m going to show up to Outside Assault and show you what kind of warrior I am. I may be respectful, but I’m willing to fight and do whatever it takes to prove to you that I’m far different than what you think of me. You’re facing a guy with the heart of a lion and a ‘never say die’ attitude… try as you might, you’re going to have to go above and beyond anything you’ve ever had to do before just to keep me down. I’ve wrestled through injuries that normal men shouldn’t have even been able to stay on their feet from. I’ve wrestled through a broken neck, I’ve wrestled just three weeks after receiving knee surgery, I’ve wrestled while blind in one eye. Not one person have ever been able to back up their claims of taking me out, and you’ll be no different Mike. As long as my heart beats, I’m not going to quit.
I will earn your respect Mike. I’ll shake your hand before the match, and I’ll shake it after the match regardless of who won. And during the match itself, you’re going to learn enough about me to change your attitude towards me in the end.”
Aaron slowly reaches down and grabs the white pawn mentioned at the very beginning and moves it into the one spot that signifies only one thing for the black side…
“Checkmate, Mike.”
Fade to black.
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