Post by maniac on Jan 21, 2006 22:22:38 GMT -5
{I’m here today, standing tall as an international renowned legend in this industry for one reason and one reason alone: I had a very solid foundation to build on. That was a foundation provided for me by Mark Xamin, the man who trained me when I first came to him in early 1995 all the way through until my professional wrestling debut on October 3rd. I wasn’t the only graduate from his school to hit the professional wrestling world that day however, a man about as famous as myself in many circles debuted on that very same day – his problem is he’s famous for all the wrong reasons.}
{I hadn’t seen Xamin in months and could probably have gone many more months without seeing him again, but Shawn had seemed less confident than myself lately, and considering everything he’d been through this year and the fact he’d yet to actually pick up a single decent win that wasn’t really very surprising. It was him who had come up with the idea to take a trip to our past when he saw an advert in a paper for a wrestling school in south Los Angeles run by somebody we both knew from the past, he wanted to go back to Toronto, the site of his last loss in an indy fed he competes in. I saw no harm in it either, it was always nice to remember how far you’d come.}
{As soon as we arrived we headed off for breakfast in the city centre, entering a café I hadn’t been inside in over three years. The place looked almost exactly the same save for a fresher coat of paint on the walls and eleven years worth of wear on the tables and chairs. The leather on most of them was tattered now and I thought back to the day it first opened, I guess not everybody moves forward, some people just keep treading water to keep themselves afloat, not moving forward or backward. We took a seat in the back and checked the menu, noting that at least one thing had changed in the past eleven years. Shawn just sat back and looked around happily.}
Shawn Wright: It’s odd, ain’t it?
Michael Thomas: {looks around} What is?
Shawn Wright: That coming back here feels more like coming home than going anywhere else in the world. Feels more real, you know?
{I nodded slowly. I’d always thought that about this city, no matter where I went in the world or where I lived, coming back here always felt so much more like home than anywhere else in this world ever had. At times I struggled to even remember a time before this city, a time in my life before I entered the world of professional wrestling. When I was a kid the last five years seemed like five short weeks but now the last eleven years seemed like an eternity.}
Michael Thomas: I know what you mean.
Shawn Wright: What you think our lives would be like if we hadn’t met here?
Michael Thomas: {laughs} Truthfully, I doubt mine would be any different. You’d probably be better off though.
Shawn Wright: Better off? How the hell’d you figure that?
Michael Thomas: Don’t you find it difficult living in my shadow? Every time we entered that ring we were Maniac and Shawn Wright, you’re just another extension of my career, something to be looked down upon from a great height and laughed at.
Shawn Wright: {nods} So?
Michael Thomas: {laughs} You actually agree?
Shawn Wright: Dude, I’d be in (BLEEP)ng denial to think anything else, wouldn’t I? But look at it this way, right… I got a pretty successful career behind me, former World champion in at least one company and four tag team belts to my name, that’s more than most people got. And hell, I may be in your shadow but at least I’m big enough to cast at least a little one of my own, there’s an ass load of bitches who ain’t even big enough to do that.
{I laughed and nodded in agreement. There was a major difference between Shawn and I, and I suppose that difference was something I admired in him. When I lost a high profile match it took me days to accept that loss, sometimes even longer. I’d shut myself off from the world and hide away, try to come to terms with it in my head because most of the time I truly couldn’t handle losing the matches I know in my gut I should have won. Shawn didn’t have that problem, he could lose three or four matches in the same week and come back the next week still with a positive outlook, still determined to carry on and not even letting the last week phase him.}
{The waitress soon came over and we placed our order, no more then fifteen minutes later we had finished eating and I put some cash down on the table and left. After breakfast was over there was only really one thing left to do and that was go back to school, back to Xamin’s home in the suburbs and reminisce about the good times. As we began to head back toward the car though, Shawn had an almost nervous look on his face, walking slowly and dragging his feet as though he didn’t really want to be here after all. I stopped and looked back at him and he shrugged and ran a few paces to catch up.}
Shawn Wright: Sorry dude.
Michael Thomas: For what?
Shawn Wright: Um… walking slow? You seemed pissed, figured I’d say sorry and avoid a slap around the head or some shit.
Michael Thomas: {laughs} I’m not pissed, just curious as to why you wanted to come here this morning and now seem somewhat less enthusiastic.
Shawn Wright: {shrugs} Maybe it’s the time difference; feels like mid afternoon not still morning!
Michael Thomas: {laughs} You don’t want to go to Xamin’s because of the time difference?
Shawn Wright: Ok, alright, I admit it, that’s just an excuse…
Michael Thomas: {sarcastically} Really?
Shawn Wright: Yeah dude, I know I’m a good liar.
{I slowly shook my head in disbelief and sighed.}
Shawn Wright: It’s just that… what if he’s all like “you’re a damn failure” and s(BLEEP)t.
Michael Thomas: {laughs} I thought you were just saying that you weren’t a failure!
Shawn Wright: No dude, I was saying I’m cool living in your shadow. And I am! But, it’s just, well, what if he’s not cool with it? When we were in the WIW the first time and we were tag team champions, I was Platinum champion and you were World champion, he was (BLEEP)ing proud, you know?
Michael Thomas: {nods} I remember. The good old days…
Shawn Wright: Yeah, ‘cept for you those days were like “pssssh, only one singles title, this sucks” but for me those days were like some of my best. Then we went back to the HCW, you were Imperial champion and I was the WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT champion and you just know he was proud then. He was all like “damn Shawn, you beat Maniac and Pretty Boy Floyd, I’m proud of you” and s(BLEEP)t.
Michael Thomas: And now you think he’ll say…
Shawn Wright: {cuts me off} “You lost to an indy fedder, he’s a jobber, you suck”? Damn right I do!
Michael Thomas: You're legendary in Japan, that’s something at least, right?
Shawn Wright: {nods slowly} It’s something I guess.
Michael Thomas: Well what if he does?
Shawn Wright: Does what?
Michael Thomas: {laughs} Does say you suck, would it really be that bad?
{He stood there for a moment just thinking about it before shrugging. Believe it or not Shawn Wright was a proud man but like me he’d already heard everything there was to hear about himself fifty times over, I suppose like me he’d just gotten used to hearing he was nothing more than my sidekick, that he could accomplish nothing and that he was “gay.” Yes, for some reason those who labeled me “boring” also labeled him “gay.” Gotta love the mentally defective and their insults, don’t you?}
Michael Thomas: How many other people have said that to you in the past week alone?
Shawn Wright: Um, let’s see. Luther, Jason...that weird ass mother f(BLEEP)ker from down my street, my next door neighbour, your wife…
Michael Thomas: {laughs} So what’s one more?
Shawn Wright: This one’s different dude. It’s like your father saying he’s disappointed in you, it don’t mean s(BLEEP)t when someone else says it but when he says it, it just hurts.
Michael Thomas: Well then you’ve got two choices. Option A: you go home and forever worry about what he thinks of you.
Shawn Wright: {shakes head} What’s option B?
Michael Thomas: You come with me and find out.
Shawn Wright: {scratches chin} I guess I gotta go with B then, wouldn’t be much of an adventure if I gave up half way through, would it?
{I laughed and continued heading toward the car as Shawn caught up to me again and looked over at me with an eyebrow raised.}
Shawn Wright: Speaking of which, you got any adventures planned for this week you’d like to include me in?
Michael Thomas: {grins} If anything comes up I’ll give you a call.
Shawn Wright: Cool.
{Once we finally got back to the car we headed out the way we both knew by heart, having travelled it every day, sometimes even twice a day, from January '95 through October '95. When I pulled left in to the street, Shawn began to look around, perhaps reminiscing about the old days or perhaps once again worrying what would happen when we pulled up to the house but when we did pull in front of the old place I think neither of us expected to see the sign we saw deeply embedded in the front lawn.}
Shawn Wright: Whoa, he’s selling?
{We both got out of the car and headed up the path, knocking on the door a few times without an answer. I was about ready to give up when Shawn ran off for a moment, disappearing around the back of the house. I stood there waiting for him, trying to figure out where the hell he’d gone when the front door suddenly opened and he stood there with a grin on his face.}
Michael Thomas: That’s breaking and entering…
Shawn Wright: What the hell do I care, I’m the Sinner, remember?
{I laughed and walked inside, looking around the place to find just how little had actually changed. The walls were still covered with years of memories, from pictures of Xamin with his first championship belts right through to pictures of Scott, his somewhat “special” little brother, and him in the MWCW, a company I’d built off of what was once the MSWWF, a company owned by myself and believe it or not Jimmy Blast, just another thing we had in our past.}
{As I continued to stare at the masses of pictures on the walls Shawn disappeared again, returning moments later with a large red book that he dropped on the table in front of me and began looking through. As he flipped through the pages we saw various pictures of the original four men Xamin had taken on in early 1995 and as the pictures went on that number decreased, to three by August 1995 and down to just two by September. Further on in the scrapbook were pictures of Xamin and I holding first the MWWF and WWWA World titles, that Shawn laughed at commenting I looked stupid back then, which I had to agree on. I was still so young and naïve back then.}
{As we got further on in the book the articles changed but one common theme ran through them all: me. He’d built up this book of my achievements, from clipping of me in MWWF and WWWA all the way through to a magazine clipping from early last year of me holding the NWF Bloodsport title. I stepped back a moment and just looked at them, wondering why he’d spend so much time collecting all this stuff. Even I didn’t have some of these articles and I made a habit of collecting just about everything that was published about myself, he must have spent ages finding some of these.}
Shawn Wright: He’s proud of you, dude.
Michael Thomas: {nods} So it seems.
{Shawn turned the page to find an empty space, perhaps saved for more articles, and sighed. He began looking at the walls downhearted as I continued flicking through the pages about me, reading some of the clippings again and laughing to myself as I remembered the reasons they were written. After finding one about my victory over Rob Osbourne in the Elite Wrestling Alliance I laughed so much I actually dropped the book and it hit the ground with a thud, falling upside down. When I picked it up again I opened it to find that the other side was full of articles as well, this time of Shawn Wright. Shawn looked over my shoulder and nodded proudly.}
Michael Thomas: Feeling happier now?
Shawn Wright: {nods} Yeah, I am. And kinda guilty for breaking into his house…
{I laughed as Shawn continued to flick through the articles. Half an hour later and we were heading back to the car, ready to go home, and as I looked over at Shawn he had a grin on his face unlike any I’d seen in quite a while.}
Michael Thomas: What’s funny?
Shawn Wright: Oh, nothing’s funny dude, I just had a thought.
Michael Thomas: You? Damn, did it hurt?
Shawn Wright: {shakes head} Nice try but you’re still not funny. I just thought maybe it don’t matter that I ain’t like a ten time World champion already, maybe I can be proud of just being second place.
Michael Thomas: {laughs} Slightly less than second place!
Shawn Wright: Yeah, but in the marathon that is professional wrestling at least I ain’t finishing last.
Michael Thomas: {nods} That’s very true Shawn, that’s very true.
{Maybe going back to school was a good idea after all, certainly cheered Shawn up.}
****END SCENE****
{I found myself surprisingly relaxed as my watch bleeped to inform me it was six pm but I paid little attention, I was busy reading a book that had been dropped through the door earlier in the day. See being famous was great in some respects but it always meant there were people looking for handouts and several times a month people looking for approval of one thing or another, mainly young wrestlers coming to my offices looking for a break – one that I would not give them. Yes, Original Six Productions was a management company but its client list was highly exclusive.}
{This book however would get my seal of approval. It was a book about the mind and the author had done studies on how different people think; a very eye-opening read as it made me understand what separated the successful from the unsuccessful, something I’d spoken about several weeks ago now and that was perceptions of reality. I put the book down as I looked up at my mini-cam, which I’d set up to record earlier before I’d gotten distracted, and flicked it on to record.}
MANIAC: You know, they say that success and failure are simply two states of mind and either can be achieved depending on your state of mind. Those who think positively are far more likely to succeed than those who think negatively and more importantly those with a positive approach, both to themselves and their lives are more likely to have a happy life. Success or failure is achieved by how you act so maybe that explains something I’ve always wondered about. Those who say “I’ll never win that belt” or “I’ll never win that tournament” never do because they believe they won’t, therefore subconsciously they fail. Interesting, no?
Doesn’t work the other way around though, simply stating that you’ll win doesn’t mean you will, it just means you’re less likely to fail. You add a positive frame of mind to somebody like me though, a man who’s proven time and again that he is the best there is at what he does, then you’re going to go a long, long way. Maybe that’s why I’m an umpteen time Heavyweight champion of the World and maybe that’s why I almost never lose. Then you’ve got your guys like Evan Cartwright, guys who while they might SAY they’re damn good they know deep down that they're not, therefore they never get anywhere because they don’t believe it. Well, that’s according to the geeks who run the tests, anyway.
See, Evan is a hell of a talent, but he’s too stupid to realize that he’s not using it the right way. Before he ran into me, he had no fire in his eyes…now there’s a raging inferno. Before he ran into me, he was wrestling in boring matches that no one gave a damn about….now he’s in one of the most anticipated matches of Joker’s Wild. Before he met me, he was going through the motions, as if he didn’t care whether he failed or succeeded….now? Now he’s busting his ass trying to figure out a way to beat me – he’ll never find one, of course, but it’s the mere fact that he’s trying that has me impressed. Anyone noticing a pattern here?
[He pauses, letting you think about it for a moment.]
I’ve had more of a positive influence on this kid from the other side of the ring than the Rat Pack has had on him while standing in his corner. What’s that tell ya? Of course, he’s not swift enough to see the forest for the trees, but anyone with half a brain can do the math.
But as I’ve said all this week, it’s unfortunate for him that I’m not ready to step down off the top of the mountain yet. I’ve taught him some valuable lessons these past two weeks…and he’s soaked them in and used them almost to their fullest capabilities. This Monday night will be the greatest lesson he ever learns. I am going to smack that bitch down and make him pay the price. I am gonna make him bleed, make him scream for mercy. And after I walk out of that ring the winner, leaving him lying there in a pool of his own blood…he’ll sit up, look around the arena, see a blur where the crowd should be…he’ll look in his corner and see Terry Brandon with a horrified look on his face, the EMTs rushing down the aisle, the referee looking on in sheer panic thinking poor little Evan’s career is over. But two people in that arena will know better. Evan Cartwright, and yours truly, the Lord of the Ring.
Because when Evan Cartwright leaves the arena on Monday night, he’ll know he’s been to hell, he’s gone to war with the devil himself, he’s fought the most hellacious battle he’ll ever be in…and you can ask around, Evan…ask the Jimmy Blast’s and Jeff Jericho’s of the world…you’ll know, you’ll KNOW that you’ll never meet anyone with the ability to put you through that amount of sheer torture ever again. You’ll know that you can take it and survive, and I believe you can, kid…and you’ll be a better man for it. And maybe…for once, you’ll thank me for it instead of pissing and moaning and whining about how I got lucky. There is no luck involved when it comes to the Lord of the Ring, my friend…it all happens just as I plan for it to happen.
[He looks up, directly into the camera.]
This Monday night, I make good on my promises. I back up everything I’ve said. I live up to the hype. I am the Lord of the Ring, the King of Kings, the most unpredictable son of a filthy god damn bitch in the history of the game…
…and not only will you never forget it…you’ll believe it, and respect it.
[Fade to black.]
{I hadn’t seen Xamin in months and could probably have gone many more months without seeing him again, but Shawn had seemed less confident than myself lately, and considering everything he’d been through this year and the fact he’d yet to actually pick up a single decent win that wasn’t really very surprising. It was him who had come up with the idea to take a trip to our past when he saw an advert in a paper for a wrestling school in south Los Angeles run by somebody we both knew from the past, he wanted to go back to Toronto, the site of his last loss in an indy fed he competes in. I saw no harm in it either, it was always nice to remember how far you’d come.}
{As soon as we arrived we headed off for breakfast in the city centre, entering a café I hadn’t been inside in over three years. The place looked almost exactly the same save for a fresher coat of paint on the walls and eleven years worth of wear on the tables and chairs. The leather on most of them was tattered now and I thought back to the day it first opened, I guess not everybody moves forward, some people just keep treading water to keep themselves afloat, not moving forward or backward. We took a seat in the back and checked the menu, noting that at least one thing had changed in the past eleven years. Shawn just sat back and looked around happily.}
Shawn Wright: It’s odd, ain’t it?
Michael Thomas: {looks around} What is?
Shawn Wright: That coming back here feels more like coming home than going anywhere else in the world. Feels more real, you know?
{I nodded slowly. I’d always thought that about this city, no matter where I went in the world or where I lived, coming back here always felt so much more like home than anywhere else in this world ever had. At times I struggled to even remember a time before this city, a time in my life before I entered the world of professional wrestling. When I was a kid the last five years seemed like five short weeks but now the last eleven years seemed like an eternity.}
Michael Thomas: I know what you mean.
Shawn Wright: What you think our lives would be like if we hadn’t met here?
Michael Thomas: {laughs} Truthfully, I doubt mine would be any different. You’d probably be better off though.
Shawn Wright: Better off? How the hell’d you figure that?
Michael Thomas: Don’t you find it difficult living in my shadow? Every time we entered that ring we were Maniac and Shawn Wright, you’re just another extension of my career, something to be looked down upon from a great height and laughed at.
Shawn Wright: {nods} So?
Michael Thomas: {laughs} You actually agree?
Shawn Wright: Dude, I’d be in (BLEEP)ng denial to think anything else, wouldn’t I? But look at it this way, right… I got a pretty successful career behind me, former World champion in at least one company and four tag team belts to my name, that’s more than most people got. And hell, I may be in your shadow but at least I’m big enough to cast at least a little one of my own, there’s an ass load of bitches who ain’t even big enough to do that.
{I laughed and nodded in agreement. There was a major difference between Shawn and I, and I suppose that difference was something I admired in him. When I lost a high profile match it took me days to accept that loss, sometimes even longer. I’d shut myself off from the world and hide away, try to come to terms with it in my head because most of the time I truly couldn’t handle losing the matches I know in my gut I should have won. Shawn didn’t have that problem, he could lose three or four matches in the same week and come back the next week still with a positive outlook, still determined to carry on and not even letting the last week phase him.}
{The waitress soon came over and we placed our order, no more then fifteen minutes later we had finished eating and I put some cash down on the table and left. After breakfast was over there was only really one thing left to do and that was go back to school, back to Xamin’s home in the suburbs and reminisce about the good times. As we began to head back toward the car though, Shawn had an almost nervous look on his face, walking slowly and dragging his feet as though he didn’t really want to be here after all. I stopped and looked back at him and he shrugged and ran a few paces to catch up.}
Shawn Wright: Sorry dude.
Michael Thomas: For what?
Shawn Wright: Um… walking slow? You seemed pissed, figured I’d say sorry and avoid a slap around the head or some shit.
Michael Thomas: {laughs} I’m not pissed, just curious as to why you wanted to come here this morning and now seem somewhat less enthusiastic.
Shawn Wright: {shrugs} Maybe it’s the time difference; feels like mid afternoon not still morning!
Michael Thomas: {laughs} You don’t want to go to Xamin’s because of the time difference?
Shawn Wright: Ok, alright, I admit it, that’s just an excuse…
Michael Thomas: {sarcastically} Really?
Shawn Wright: Yeah dude, I know I’m a good liar.
{I slowly shook my head in disbelief and sighed.}
Shawn Wright: It’s just that… what if he’s all like “you’re a damn failure” and s(BLEEP)t.
Michael Thomas: {laughs} I thought you were just saying that you weren’t a failure!
Shawn Wright: No dude, I was saying I’m cool living in your shadow. And I am! But, it’s just, well, what if he’s not cool with it? When we were in the WIW the first time and we were tag team champions, I was Platinum champion and you were World champion, he was (BLEEP)ing proud, you know?
Michael Thomas: {nods} I remember. The good old days…
Shawn Wright: Yeah, ‘cept for you those days were like “pssssh, only one singles title, this sucks” but for me those days were like some of my best. Then we went back to the HCW, you were Imperial champion and I was the WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT champion and you just know he was proud then. He was all like “damn Shawn, you beat Maniac and Pretty Boy Floyd, I’m proud of you” and s(BLEEP)t.
Michael Thomas: And now you think he’ll say…
Shawn Wright: {cuts me off} “You lost to an indy fedder, he’s a jobber, you suck”? Damn right I do!
Michael Thomas: You're legendary in Japan, that’s something at least, right?
Shawn Wright: {nods slowly} It’s something I guess.
Michael Thomas: Well what if he does?
Shawn Wright: Does what?
Michael Thomas: {laughs} Does say you suck, would it really be that bad?
{He stood there for a moment just thinking about it before shrugging. Believe it or not Shawn Wright was a proud man but like me he’d already heard everything there was to hear about himself fifty times over, I suppose like me he’d just gotten used to hearing he was nothing more than my sidekick, that he could accomplish nothing and that he was “gay.” Yes, for some reason those who labeled me “boring” also labeled him “gay.” Gotta love the mentally defective and their insults, don’t you?}
Michael Thomas: How many other people have said that to you in the past week alone?
Shawn Wright: Um, let’s see. Luther, Jason...that weird ass mother f(BLEEP)ker from down my street, my next door neighbour, your wife…
Michael Thomas: {laughs} So what’s one more?
Shawn Wright: This one’s different dude. It’s like your father saying he’s disappointed in you, it don’t mean s(BLEEP)t when someone else says it but when he says it, it just hurts.
Michael Thomas: Well then you’ve got two choices. Option A: you go home and forever worry about what he thinks of you.
Shawn Wright: {shakes head} What’s option B?
Michael Thomas: You come with me and find out.
Shawn Wright: {scratches chin} I guess I gotta go with B then, wouldn’t be much of an adventure if I gave up half way through, would it?
{I laughed and continued heading toward the car as Shawn caught up to me again and looked over at me with an eyebrow raised.}
Shawn Wright: Speaking of which, you got any adventures planned for this week you’d like to include me in?
Michael Thomas: {grins} If anything comes up I’ll give you a call.
Shawn Wright: Cool.
{Once we finally got back to the car we headed out the way we both knew by heart, having travelled it every day, sometimes even twice a day, from January '95 through October '95. When I pulled left in to the street, Shawn began to look around, perhaps reminiscing about the old days or perhaps once again worrying what would happen when we pulled up to the house but when we did pull in front of the old place I think neither of us expected to see the sign we saw deeply embedded in the front lawn.}
Shawn Wright: Whoa, he’s selling?
{We both got out of the car and headed up the path, knocking on the door a few times without an answer. I was about ready to give up when Shawn ran off for a moment, disappearing around the back of the house. I stood there waiting for him, trying to figure out where the hell he’d gone when the front door suddenly opened and he stood there with a grin on his face.}
Michael Thomas: That’s breaking and entering…
Shawn Wright: What the hell do I care, I’m the Sinner, remember?
{I laughed and walked inside, looking around the place to find just how little had actually changed. The walls were still covered with years of memories, from pictures of Xamin with his first championship belts right through to pictures of Scott, his somewhat “special” little brother, and him in the MWCW, a company I’d built off of what was once the MSWWF, a company owned by myself and believe it or not Jimmy Blast, just another thing we had in our past.}
{As I continued to stare at the masses of pictures on the walls Shawn disappeared again, returning moments later with a large red book that he dropped on the table in front of me and began looking through. As he flipped through the pages we saw various pictures of the original four men Xamin had taken on in early 1995 and as the pictures went on that number decreased, to three by August 1995 and down to just two by September. Further on in the scrapbook were pictures of Xamin and I holding first the MWWF and WWWA World titles, that Shawn laughed at commenting I looked stupid back then, which I had to agree on. I was still so young and naïve back then.}
{As we got further on in the book the articles changed but one common theme ran through them all: me. He’d built up this book of my achievements, from clipping of me in MWWF and WWWA all the way through to a magazine clipping from early last year of me holding the NWF Bloodsport title. I stepped back a moment and just looked at them, wondering why he’d spend so much time collecting all this stuff. Even I didn’t have some of these articles and I made a habit of collecting just about everything that was published about myself, he must have spent ages finding some of these.}
Shawn Wright: He’s proud of you, dude.
Michael Thomas: {nods} So it seems.
{Shawn turned the page to find an empty space, perhaps saved for more articles, and sighed. He began looking at the walls downhearted as I continued flicking through the pages about me, reading some of the clippings again and laughing to myself as I remembered the reasons they were written. After finding one about my victory over Rob Osbourne in the Elite Wrestling Alliance I laughed so much I actually dropped the book and it hit the ground with a thud, falling upside down. When I picked it up again I opened it to find that the other side was full of articles as well, this time of Shawn Wright. Shawn looked over my shoulder and nodded proudly.}
Michael Thomas: Feeling happier now?
Shawn Wright: {nods} Yeah, I am. And kinda guilty for breaking into his house…
{I laughed as Shawn continued to flick through the articles. Half an hour later and we were heading back to the car, ready to go home, and as I looked over at Shawn he had a grin on his face unlike any I’d seen in quite a while.}
Michael Thomas: What’s funny?
Shawn Wright: Oh, nothing’s funny dude, I just had a thought.
Michael Thomas: You? Damn, did it hurt?
Shawn Wright: {shakes head} Nice try but you’re still not funny. I just thought maybe it don’t matter that I ain’t like a ten time World champion already, maybe I can be proud of just being second place.
Michael Thomas: {laughs} Slightly less than second place!
Shawn Wright: Yeah, but in the marathon that is professional wrestling at least I ain’t finishing last.
Michael Thomas: {nods} That’s very true Shawn, that’s very true.
{Maybe going back to school was a good idea after all, certainly cheered Shawn up.}
****END SCENE****
{I found myself surprisingly relaxed as my watch bleeped to inform me it was six pm but I paid little attention, I was busy reading a book that had been dropped through the door earlier in the day. See being famous was great in some respects but it always meant there were people looking for handouts and several times a month people looking for approval of one thing or another, mainly young wrestlers coming to my offices looking for a break – one that I would not give them. Yes, Original Six Productions was a management company but its client list was highly exclusive.}
{This book however would get my seal of approval. It was a book about the mind and the author had done studies on how different people think; a very eye-opening read as it made me understand what separated the successful from the unsuccessful, something I’d spoken about several weeks ago now and that was perceptions of reality. I put the book down as I looked up at my mini-cam, which I’d set up to record earlier before I’d gotten distracted, and flicked it on to record.}
MANIAC: You know, they say that success and failure are simply two states of mind and either can be achieved depending on your state of mind. Those who think positively are far more likely to succeed than those who think negatively and more importantly those with a positive approach, both to themselves and their lives are more likely to have a happy life. Success or failure is achieved by how you act so maybe that explains something I’ve always wondered about. Those who say “I’ll never win that belt” or “I’ll never win that tournament” never do because they believe they won’t, therefore subconsciously they fail. Interesting, no?
Doesn’t work the other way around though, simply stating that you’ll win doesn’t mean you will, it just means you’re less likely to fail. You add a positive frame of mind to somebody like me though, a man who’s proven time and again that he is the best there is at what he does, then you’re going to go a long, long way. Maybe that’s why I’m an umpteen time Heavyweight champion of the World and maybe that’s why I almost never lose. Then you’ve got your guys like Evan Cartwright, guys who while they might SAY they’re damn good they know deep down that they're not, therefore they never get anywhere because they don’t believe it. Well, that’s according to the geeks who run the tests, anyway.
See, Evan is a hell of a talent, but he’s too stupid to realize that he’s not using it the right way. Before he ran into me, he had no fire in his eyes…now there’s a raging inferno. Before he ran into me, he was wrestling in boring matches that no one gave a damn about….now he’s in one of the most anticipated matches of Joker’s Wild. Before he met me, he was going through the motions, as if he didn’t care whether he failed or succeeded….now? Now he’s busting his ass trying to figure out a way to beat me – he’ll never find one, of course, but it’s the mere fact that he’s trying that has me impressed. Anyone noticing a pattern here?
[He pauses, letting you think about it for a moment.]
I’ve had more of a positive influence on this kid from the other side of the ring than the Rat Pack has had on him while standing in his corner. What’s that tell ya? Of course, he’s not swift enough to see the forest for the trees, but anyone with half a brain can do the math.
But as I’ve said all this week, it’s unfortunate for him that I’m not ready to step down off the top of the mountain yet. I’ve taught him some valuable lessons these past two weeks…and he’s soaked them in and used them almost to their fullest capabilities. This Monday night will be the greatest lesson he ever learns. I am going to smack that bitch down and make him pay the price. I am gonna make him bleed, make him scream for mercy. And after I walk out of that ring the winner, leaving him lying there in a pool of his own blood…he’ll sit up, look around the arena, see a blur where the crowd should be…he’ll look in his corner and see Terry Brandon with a horrified look on his face, the EMTs rushing down the aisle, the referee looking on in sheer panic thinking poor little Evan’s career is over. But two people in that arena will know better. Evan Cartwright, and yours truly, the Lord of the Ring.
Because when Evan Cartwright leaves the arena on Monday night, he’ll know he’s been to hell, he’s gone to war with the devil himself, he’s fought the most hellacious battle he’ll ever be in…and you can ask around, Evan…ask the Jimmy Blast’s and Jeff Jericho’s of the world…you’ll know, you’ll KNOW that you’ll never meet anyone with the ability to put you through that amount of sheer torture ever again. You’ll know that you can take it and survive, and I believe you can, kid…and you’ll be a better man for it. And maybe…for once, you’ll thank me for it instead of pissing and moaning and whining about how I got lucky. There is no luck involved when it comes to the Lord of the Ring, my friend…it all happens just as I plan for it to happen.
[He looks up, directly into the camera.]
This Monday night, I make good on my promises. I back up everything I’ve said. I live up to the hype. I am the Lord of the Ring, the King of Kings, the most unpredictable son of a filthy god damn bitch in the history of the game…
…and not only will you never forget it…you’ll believe it, and respect it.
[Fade to black.]