Post by Jay O'Brien on Feb 16, 2007 13:56:17 GMT -5
[Start.]
“You know something, Jeff? We’re in the same position we were two days ago.”
[Jay O’Brien is lounging on the floral-patterned sofa in his apartment. He’s relaxed, he’s mellow – not at all like the intense Jay O’Brien we’ve seen since he first came to NAPW. Hell, the only way he could be any more relaxed is if he started puffing on a doobie, or a joint, or whatever you want to call it. He doesn’t though, because Jay’s a man that prides himself on his athleticism, his cardiovascular fitness, and most of all, taking care of his body. Weed? Haha.]
JOB: You’ve shown me nothing new. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought that last promo of yours was a direct follow on from the previous one. The hypocrisy? It’s still there. Last time, it was all about our records. Mine didn’t matter of course, my history, it was irrelevant to you. But then, your TV Title run, that counted, right? That was something we should be concerned with – me specifically – even though you said yourself that past results mean nothing on the night. Apparently you thought that made sense.
[Jay shrugs, nonchalantly.]
JOB: This time? Well it’s all about how cocky I am, and how it disgusts you. You, the man that sits there and tells me that I should’ve heeded your advice, you, the man that gave me a chance – apparently –what was it you said? ‘I can be the greatest of allies, and the greatest of enemies’?
JOB: Yeah, because that’s not big-headed, is it, Jeff?
[Jay doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t chuckle, he doesn’t giggle. He just carries on.]
JOB: Jeff, I don’t need your (BLEEP)ing help, and I sure as hell didn’t ask for it. Your advice? Shove it up your ass. Ranting on and on about how important it is that I taste defeat? Yeah, that’s gonna wash. I’ll tell you what, Jeff, why don’t I just lie down in the middle of the ring and let you pin me? Will that give me the knowledge, the experience I need so badly? ‘Course it will, Jeff. And yeah, while we’re talking technicalities, I am a rookie – I’ve been here for just over a month. ‘Here’ being Canada. North America. But that doesn’t mean I’ve never had a match before. What, you thought I just sprung out of the ground like this, a great wrestler, never to lose in my entire life, never to know the heartache of defeat, never to learn the lessons?
JOB: Jeff, just like everybody else that’s made it this far, I’ve been beaten up, I’ve been stretched, I’ve been hammered, I’ve had it all thrown at me. By my trainers, by my opponents. And why does anybody endure those painful early years? Those ‘teething’ years? I’ll tell you. So that they can get to this place. So they can sign on the dotted line for a promoter somewhere, so they can go out there and wing it with the big boys. With the names you used to read about in the magazines, with the people you thought you’d only ever watch on TV, that you never thought you’d ever look across the ring at, staring at you, ready to tear you into tiny little pieces.
JOB: Jeff, just because you don’t know anything about me, about my past, what I’ve accomplished, what I’ve been through – it’s all irrelevant anyway, right? – doesn’t mean you’ve got something on me. It doesn’t mean you can make assumptions, either, about what I’ve done, what I’ve been through... who I am. You want to know if I’m proud of my run in NAPW so far?
JOB: Well let me put it this way - Jeff, you’re right about one thing at least – Saffire and Chamberlain? Yeah, they were inexperienced. Krusty Kid Paul, yeah, he’s flawed. And yes, I beat Rotten whilst I had a hand on the ropes. Am I proud of those wins?
[Jay shrugs.]
JOB: What does it matter, Jeff? I’m like you. At least I am when you’re not contradicting yourself. I don’t think those wins mean a damn thing. They’re just indicators – indicators that I’m a tough guy to beat. Rotten? He’s a good wrestler. He almost beat me. But he didn’t. Krusty Kid Paul? Ha. Well, he tried at least. And as for those other two, the “inexperienced” ones... how does that take anything away from the fact that I beat them? They were there, in the ring, weren’t they? They were game, weren’t they? They wanted to win, didn’t they? There’s always a chance, isn’t there?
JOB: You know, in the world of Mixed Martial Arts, there’s a phenomenon called a “Puncher’s Chance”. What’s a ‘Puncher’s Chance’, you ask? Well, let’s put it this way – there’s this underdog, right? His skills are way below his opponent’s. I mean, he’s out of his league here. He’s several divisions below. But he’s a fighter, right, or he wouldn’t be there in the first place. Let’s say this underdog, this reasonable-but-not-so-good fighter, he’s in a World Title match. Let’s say he’s facing the biggest, baddest, toughest, most technically sound competitor in the entire world. He’s going to lose, right?
JOB: ‘Puncher’s Chance’, Jeff, is the thing that comes into play in the middle of a fight – in the heat of the action. It’s a wild right, out of nowhere, that connects. It’s a sloppy, ill-directed punch that somehow makes it’s way through the opponent’s defence. It’s the fluke that gave people reason to watch the fight in the first place. It’s the one single shot the challenger has.
JOB: You ask me if I’m proud to beat those four men the way I did? Well, no, Jeff, I’m not. I already knew I was better than them. It wasn’t some great achievement, but it was an achievement nonetheless. Like I said, they might not have been in my league, but I still had to beat them. And they still had a ‘Puncher’s Chance’. Kinda like you, Jeff. You’ve got a shot, a chance, you’re an outside bet.
JOB: Of course, that’s not how you see it though, is it, Jeff? You’re the favourite? You had that TV Title run, you faced the Yellow freakin’ Chicken, you’ve learned your lessons in defeat, and you’ve perfected your game. Right? Right?!
[Jay sneers.]
JOB: But hey, you’re not cocky. In fact, you’re Mister Modest. I’m the cocky one here. Me, just me. Me, with my irrelevant record, me, with my four measly wins. Me, with my ‘pride’. The pride you assumed I held after remaining undefeated. I mean, how pathetic. My record isn’t even as good as yours – and I sure as hell haven’t tasted the defeats you tasted. Those precious, precious losses. Those cherished blemishes on your record, those ass kickings you went out of your way to find. But I wouldn’t understand that. Damn it, I’m a newbie, I don’t know what I’m even doing here. You’re better than me because you’ve lost more, because you’ve done more, and because you’re so down to earth. Because you make perfect sense, and you never contradict yourself.
[And now we get a laugh. Just a short one, a subtle one. A ‘Ha’, a chuckle.]
JOB: Jeff... let’s face facts. You say I need to lose. You wonder how long it will be until I lose. And then you say you want to help me keep my undefeated streak in tact for as long as possible. You call me cocky, and then you brag about how you’re such a bad ass that I really don’t want to get on your bad side. You say records don’t matter, but you can’t help mentioning yours at every given opportunity.
JOB: You think I need advice from you, Jeff? You think I need your help?
JOB: Well Jeff, this is me shoving you aside again. This is me calling out the Jeff James that beat the New and Improved D-X. This is me telling you that if you’ve got the goods, then I don’t want you holding anything back. This is me warning you not to preach to me about how much this business means. Don’t preach to me about it being entertainment, about it being more than just wins and losses. Jeff, don’t preach to me about ANYTHING to do with this industry, because it’s already in my blood. It’s already who I am, and it’s already who I’ll be for the rest of my life. Wrestling is me. And I am wrestling.
JOB: And you know something else, Jeff? I’m about done with your rhetoric. You can’t teach me a god damn thing. Come Tuesday Night, we’ll see if you can make the most of your “Puncher’s Chance” – otherwise, it’ll be me, once again, with my hand raised. Oh, but that’s just me being cocky, huh?
JOB: Dream on, Jeff. Dream on, and hey – heed your own (BLEEP)ing advice for a change. It’s so (BLEEP)ing poignant.
“Maybe you will get me down for the 3. Who knows, fate plays its games. We're pawns, we really have no say in how things go.”
JOB: No say, Jeff? No say? Ha... we’ll see about that. And you might just be right. Fate might just see my hand slipping towards the ropes when I’ve rolled you up, huh? Wouldn’t that be a tragedy? Wouldn’t that just suck...
[Smirk.]
[Fade.]
[No, wait.]
JOB: Oh, and Johnny? Keep your head in the sand there, buddy. You keep it shut long enough, and I might just take it a bit easier on you.
“You know something, Jeff? We’re in the same position we were two days ago.”
[Jay O’Brien is lounging on the floral-patterned sofa in his apartment. He’s relaxed, he’s mellow – not at all like the intense Jay O’Brien we’ve seen since he first came to NAPW. Hell, the only way he could be any more relaxed is if he started puffing on a doobie, or a joint, or whatever you want to call it. He doesn’t though, because Jay’s a man that prides himself on his athleticism, his cardiovascular fitness, and most of all, taking care of his body. Weed? Haha.]
JOB: You’ve shown me nothing new. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought that last promo of yours was a direct follow on from the previous one. The hypocrisy? It’s still there. Last time, it was all about our records. Mine didn’t matter of course, my history, it was irrelevant to you. But then, your TV Title run, that counted, right? That was something we should be concerned with – me specifically – even though you said yourself that past results mean nothing on the night. Apparently you thought that made sense.
[Jay shrugs, nonchalantly.]
JOB: This time? Well it’s all about how cocky I am, and how it disgusts you. You, the man that sits there and tells me that I should’ve heeded your advice, you, the man that gave me a chance – apparently –what was it you said? ‘I can be the greatest of allies, and the greatest of enemies’?
JOB: Yeah, because that’s not big-headed, is it, Jeff?
[Jay doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t chuckle, he doesn’t giggle. He just carries on.]
JOB: Jeff, I don’t need your (BLEEP)ing help, and I sure as hell didn’t ask for it. Your advice? Shove it up your ass. Ranting on and on about how important it is that I taste defeat? Yeah, that’s gonna wash. I’ll tell you what, Jeff, why don’t I just lie down in the middle of the ring and let you pin me? Will that give me the knowledge, the experience I need so badly? ‘Course it will, Jeff. And yeah, while we’re talking technicalities, I am a rookie – I’ve been here for just over a month. ‘Here’ being Canada. North America. But that doesn’t mean I’ve never had a match before. What, you thought I just sprung out of the ground like this, a great wrestler, never to lose in my entire life, never to know the heartache of defeat, never to learn the lessons?
JOB: Jeff, just like everybody else that’s made it this far, I’ve been beaten up, I’ve been stretched, I’ve been hammered, I’ve had it all thrown at me. By my trainers, by my opponents. And why does anybody endure those painful early years? Those ‘teething’ years? I’ll tell you. So that they can get to this place. So they can sign on the dotted line for a promoter somewhere, so they can go out there and wing it with the big boys. With the names you used to read about in the magazines, with the people you thought you’d only ever watch on TV, that you never thought you’d ever look across the ring at, staring at you, ready to tear you into tiny little pieces.
JOB: Jeff, just because you don’t know anything about me, about my past, what I’ve accomplished, what I’ve been through – it’s all irrelevant anyway, right? – doesn’t mean you’ve got something on me. It doesn’t mean you can make assumptions, either, about what I’ve done, what I’ve been through... who I am. You want to know if I’m proud of my run in NAPW so far?
JOB: Well let me put it this way - Jeff, you’re right about one thing at least – Saffire and Chamberlain? Yeah, they were inexperienced. Krusty Kid Paul, yeah, he’s flawed. And yes, I beat Rotten whilst I had a hand on the ropes. Am I proud of those wins?
[Jay shrugs.]
JOB: What does it matter, Jeff? I’m like you. At least I am when you’re not contradicting yourself. I don’t think those wins mean a damn thing. They’re just indicators – indicators that I’m a tough guy to beat. Rotten? He’s a good wrestler. He almost beat me. But he didn’t. Krusty Kid Paul? Ha. Well, he tried at least. And as for those other two, the “inexperienced” ones... how does that take anything away from the fact that I beat them? They were there, in the ring, weren’t they? They were game, weren’t they? They wanted to win, didn’t they? There’s always a chance, isn’t there?
JOB: You know, in the world of Mixed Martial Arts, there’s a phenomenon called a “Puncher’s Chance”. What’s a ‘Puncher’s Chance’, you ask? Well, let’s put it this way – there’s this underdog, right? His skills are way below his opponent’s. I mean, he’s out of his league here. He’s several divisions below. But he’s a fighter, right, or he wouldn’t be there in the first place. Let’s say this underdog, this reasonable-but-not-so-good fighter, he’s in a World Title match. Let’s say he’s facing the biggest, baddest, toughest, most technically sound competitor in the entire world. He’s going to lose, right?
JOB: ‘Puncher’s Chance’, Jeff, is the thing that comes into play in the middle of a fight – in the heat of the action. It’s a wild right, out of nowhere, that connects. It’s a sloppy, ill-directed punch that somehow makes it’s way through the opponent’s defence. It’s the fluke that gave people reason to watch the fight in the first place. It’s the one single shot the challenger has.
JOB: You ask me if I’m proud to beat those four men the way I did? Well, no, Jeff, I’m not. I already knew I was better than them. It wasn’t some great achievement, but it was an achievement nonetheless. Like I said, they might not have been in my league, but I still had to beat them. And they still had a ‘Puncher’s Chance’. Kinda like you, Jeff. You’ve got a shot, a chance, you’re an outside bet.
JOB: Of course, that’s not how you see it though, is it, Jeff? You’re the favourite? You had that TV Title run, you faced the Yellow freakin’ Chicken, you’ve learned your lessons in defeat, and you’ve perfected your game. Right? Right?!
[Jay sneers.]
JOB: But hey, you’re not cocky. In fact, you’re Mister Modest. I’m the cocky one here. Me, just me. Me, with my irrelevant record, me, with my four measly wins. Me, with my ‘pride’. The pride you assumed I held after remaining undefeated. I mean, how pathetic. My record isn’t even as good as yours – and I sure as hell haven’t tasted the defeats you tasted. Those precious, precious losses. Those cherished blemishes on your record, those ass kickings you went out of your way to find. But I wouldn’t understand that. Damn it, I’m a newbie, I don’t know what I’m even doing here. You’re better than me because you’ve lost more, because you’ve done more, and because you’re so down to earth. Because you make perfect sense, and you never contradict yourself.
[And now we get a laugh. Just a short one, a subtle one. A ‘Ha’, a chuckle.]
JOB: Jeff... let’s face facts. You say I need to lose. You wonder how long it will be until I lose. And then you say you want to help me keep my undefeated streak in tact for as long as possible. You call me cocky, and then you brag about how you’re such a bad ass that I really don’t want to get on your bad side. You say records don’t matter, but you can’t help mentioning yours at every given opportunity.
JOB: You think I need advice from you, Jeff? You think I need your help?
JOB: Well Jeff, this is me shoving you aside again. This is me calling out the Jeff James that beat the New and Improved D-X. This is me telling you that if you’ve got the goods, then I don’t want you holding anything back. This is me warning you not to preach to me about how much this business means. Don’t preach to me about it being entertainment, about it being more than just wins and losses. Jeff, don’t preach to me about ANYTHING to do with this industry, because it’s already in my blood. It’s already who I am, and it’s already who I’ll be for the rest of my life. Wrestling is me. And I am wrestling.
JOB: And you know something else, Jeff? I’m about done with your rhetoric. You can’t teach me a god damn thing. Come Tuesday Night, we’ll see if you can make the most of your “Puncher’s Chance” – otherwise, it’ll be me, once again, with my hand raised. Oh, but that’s just me being cocky, huh?
JOB: Dream on, Jeff. Dream on, and hey – heed your own (BLEEP)ing advice for a change. It’s so (BLEEP)ing poignant.
“Maybe you will get me down for the 3. Who knows, fate plays its games. We're pawns, we really have no say in how things go.”
JOB: No say, Jeff? No say? Ha... we’ll see about that. And you might just be right. Fate might just see my hand slipping towards the ropes when I’ve rolled you up, huh? Wouldn’t that be a tragedy? Wouldn’t that just suck...
[Smirk.]
[Fade.]
[No, wait.]
JOB: Oh, and Johnny? Keep your head in the sand there, buddy. You keep it shut long enough, and I might just take it a bit easier on you.