Post by Mike Laszlo on Mar 23, 2018 5:25:32 GMT
Just when I thought the stars couldn’t align any better…
The scene opens and as I’m driving down a highway somewhere in the middle of the desert, I have my phone mounted to the dashboard, the camera aimed in my direction.
I go and win a match that qualifies me for the final five entry spots, and then I watch that little video with Tyler Jacobs, and I find out that I am the final entrant in the 2018 Roulette Match.
I nod my head, a confident smile gracing my face.
A little bit of a winning streak to push my momentum, the final spot in the Roulette...God damn are things looking up for yours truly.
I hold my index finger upward to slow things down a bit.
But, I’m not an idiot. I’m not some naive newcomer, and I damn sure know that being the occupant of that final entry spot is both a blessing, and a curse all at the same time. It’s a blessing because I get to survey the field. Everyone else will have some measure of fatigue as “Cult of Personality” hits those speakers. Every single person in that match will be breathing heavy, and each and every single one will have already been through a bit of a fight before I even step in that ring.
I flip my hand over representing the other side of the coin.
Those other men, those left standing will hear the buzzer, they may even stop what they’re doing all together. They’ll turn their heads and narrow their gaze to the stage when I step out, and instantaneously, there will be a target imprinted on my back. Just as I’m telling you now, that I know I’ll be fresh, they know that too. Just as I’m telling you now that they’ll be worn down...they know that too. Their focus will turn to me, and their desire will be to beat me down and try to eliminate me as fast as possible, but if they can’t, at least take my energy level down a few notches to meet theirs.
So how does one stop this from happening? How do I stop this from taking place?
The smirk reappears on my face as the confidence is quite apparent. I slam my hand into my fist before retaking the wheel.
Hit them hard, hit them fast, and use their own momentum against them. I’m going to step in that ring and as they charge me to take their shot, one by one by one, I’ll cancel them out. I’ll render their attack useless, and hell, if some get overzealous, I may just step aside and give them an assist over the top rope, their ass hitting the floor, my attention moving on to the next.
I place my hand in my chest.
I know what this Roulette means to each and every one of them, because on some level it means the same to me. However, I know, and I know you know because I’ve said it on more than one occasion, what a win in the Roulette means to me. I know that desire that fuels me to go on from the final entry spot, to become the winner, and the Number One Contender for the IWF World Title at Night of the Immortals. I know the meaning behind it all, and I hope I’ve done a good enough job conveying that meaning to all of you, because this match, this single battle royal, might be the biggest match of my entire career.
I wipe my hand by the lens.
Bigger than the Heir to the Throne. This match is bigger than beating Angel in the Extinction Event to win the Imperial Title. That moment, after I eliminate the final person in the match and hear my name called will be even greater than the day I sat atop the ladder with the Joker In The Pack Contract in my hand. The trifecta will be won and my name will go down as the one and only in history to do so.
I pull off of the road and put the vehicle in park. I turn to the camera, my hands and focus now free to do as I please without having to abide by the rules of the road.
But we’ve been over that. We know my motivation, and as much as some may want to pound their motives into your skulls, I don’t feel that need. You know it, and it’s now tucked away in your mind so that when it happens it’ll flood to the forefront of your attention, you’ll smile, you’ll nod your head, and you’ll say…”he said it all along”.
While others do their best to ridicule the field, to make them feel like useless pieces of shit while boosting their own ego, while propping themselves up on a pedestal, I just sit and smile because I can’t wait to burst that bubble with a nice pointy needle. While others claim it’s their time, I simply shake my head because I, just like all of you watching, know that they’re wrong.
Yet others will talk of stepping up, this being their moment to shine, but I can’t help but wonder, why now? Why have this attitude that now is the time to show the world what you’re really worth? There’s 364 other days on the calendar that are just as worthy of your attempt as this one night with all of these other guys in the ring. The Roulette is so much more than a showcase of one’s abilities. It’s so much more than a chance to get your name out there. The IWF Roulette is now, and has always been the chance to show one thing, and one thing only...you’re better than everyone else.
I point my hand out to the side.
Last year, I came so close. I was right there and I could taste victory on the tip of my tongue, but as fate would have it...I wasn’t better. There were in fact two who were better, and one who was the best, and his name was Andrew Jacobsen, and he backed it up with the longest reign in IWF Championship history.
A year has gone by, and I’ve gotten better. A year has gone by and I’ve gotten hungrier than any other point in my career. A year has gone by, and I vow to not only make the final four of this damn Roulette...but this year win the whole damn thing.
And NOBODY is going to stop me.
==========================================
Title: Pressure
Location: Las Vegas, Nevada
Time: 12:52 AM Local Time
It’s the city that never sleeps. The lights never dim, and the sounds never dwindle, and for me, then and there, it was the time and place I needed. I couldn’t sleep. There was an anticipation inside me, a nervousness that I haven’t felt in some time. I was used to being in the spotlight. I had done it my whole career from promotion to promotion. I had been in some of the biggest matches in IWF History, and yet, here I was, actually getting...butterflies?
I walked down the strip, my hands in my pockets. It was almost one o’clock in the morning but judging by the foot traffic around me, you’d think it was almost one o’clock in the afternoon. People were still cruising the strip, drunks stumbling around, homeless people begging for money, and normal people like myself just out for a stroll...at least, that’s how it would appear to the passer by.
For me?
For me it was a chance to reflect on my career as a whole, but for your enjoyment, we’ll fast forward to the part you care about, the IWF. I knew what this match meant to me. It was the one feat I haven’t accomplished in an IWF ring, aside from being the Invictus Champion, which coincidentally enough, is also achievable within the confines of this huge match. It’s the whole in my legacy that I’m leaving behind, the one gap yet to be filled by the actions of a man who wants this so badly.
I continued down the strip and thought of my rise through the company. I thought of my battles with Killian Creed, my battles with Cable Arcane in the beginning of this company’s sole history. Hell, I was in the main event of the first Sacrifice. Me, not Spike Kane in all of his glory, not Andrew Jacobsen and his morality, not Cable Arcane and his proclamation of being the Best In The World...it was me.
I thought of the first time I had battled Angel, and the subsequent times after, dealing with his mind games, trying to solve his riddles, trying to figure out what made him tick until that fateful night that the world watched him tap out in the center of the ring. I thought of battles with Alex Jones, with Rob Diamond, with Steve Awesome. I thought of the titles won and lost. I thought of main eventing Night of the Immortals with The Ace and Roberto Verona. It was a flood of emotion, peaks and valleys of triumph and defeat, and yet through every single bit of it, I don’t ever remember feeling this way.
I felt as if I was being pressured more now than any other time in my life. Others might cower, others might run from this pressure, seek shelter from the immense weight thrust upon my shoulders. This was a do or die situation; a win at all costs situation.
This was a point in time where it was time to forge a new path. No longer was I to rely on the past, because it is just that. No longer was I to rely on a name’s value, because that name does nothing for me inside that ring.
Inside that ring, I’m one of many. Inside that ring, in the Roulette Match, I am simply but a cog on the wheel that is the overall machine that is known as the IWF. The wheel’s will turn long after I’m gone, but I’ll be damned if I don’t engrave my name into the machine. I’ll be damned if people don’t know that I was here. I’ll be damned if the world doesn’t recognize and celebrate the name Mike Laszlo.
The weight of the world is on my shoulders. The pressure I’m feeling heading into the Roulette is indeed immense. I know exactly what to do...hold that weight high above my head, display it proudly, show the world that I can handle both it, and the pressures it exudes. I say I’m the best period, and now is the time to show it.
There’s a shiver down my spine, a strange occurrence considering the warm weather. The excitement was getting to me, I could feel it. The anticipation was mounting, I couldn’t wait for the moment.
Sunday, March Twenty Fifth
10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1!
The buzzer will go off, my music will hit. I’ll walk out onto that stage, look down at the ring and I’ll take a deep breath.
My eyes open, realizing that I was imagining the moment all along. The focus is there, and one simple phrase leaves my lips.
Mike Laszlo: Game on!
My voice was a little louder than I had anticipated and a nearby pedestrian turns toward me.
Pedestrian: Game? What game? What are you good at?
I turn to him and smile…
Mike Laszlo: Roulette.
He seemed confused, shrugged his shoulders and walked off. I continued on my way, a smirk on my face.
Mike Laszlo: Roulette...indeed.
==========================================
The scene opens up and I’m sitting in the bed of my truck, the night sky above. The lights of Sin City are off in the distance, the noise has turned to silence. As the camera moves in, I’m looking up at the stars before acknowledging it’s presence.
They say that pressure can do one of two things. It can cause a person to explode, like a far off star seeing it’s last days, combusting before wiping itself from existence.
I look down to the camera aimed at me.
Or it can cause a person to rise above it all. It can make a person go above and beyond anything they’ve ever dreamed of, even in their wildest of imaginations. Pressure can cause things to explode, but it can also form diamonds.
I extend my arm, pointing out to the side as if pointing at the field of Roulette participants themselves.
There’s plenty in this match who can talk a good game. They’ll tell you there’s risks that need to be taken. They’ll tell you that they’re the best of the best of the best, and they’ll rattle off a list of accomplishments. I’m guilty, but some are taking it to extremes...no pun intended...or is there?
Each will give you his perceived role, each will map out how they’re going to win.
What they won’t talk about is the pressure. They won’t tell you that there’s a weight being held above them, and they won’t tell you whether they think they can flourish in such a situation, or if they’ll crumble beneath the mighty weight held over them.
I point to myself.
I know all about pressure. I know what kind of pressure I put on myself, let alone the weight of expectation thrust upon me by a fanbase, by pundits. I know what that weight feels like, and I’d be lying if I told you it wasn’t hard to imagine many falling beneath that weight, crumbling beneath that pressure.
Sure…
They tell you they’re ready. They tell you their time is now. They tell you their done playing around and it’s time to get serious.
I point into the lens of the camera as if it were the viewers themselves.
But sit there on your couch. Look at the person next to you, or ask yourself, how much of what they tell you is bullshit? How much of the vile they spew is simple bravado to try and prop themselves up? How much of what they say do they actually believe?
I smack the bed of my truck, the thud echoing over the open landscape around me.
Sure as hell as I’m sitting here right now, I believe what I say. I tell you I’m the best period, not to put it on a t-shirt, but to let you know how I feel about myself because let’s face it, if I don’t believe I’m the best, there’s not a single person in the back who will either. If I don’t look in the mirror and encourage myself with those words, believe in those words, not a single person in that arena, or a single person at home will believe them either.
I extend my arm back out.
So while others hold themselves up with crutches of insults, while others demean the accomplishments of others just to make their own seem that more significant, I’ll sit right here, I’ll look dead into that lens, and I will tell you with the most sober of faces, that I am ready for the 2018 Roulette. I am ready to stamp my name in the history books. I am ready to take a pen and write in the name Mike Laszlo as the challenger for the IWF World Championship at Night of the Immortals.
And I’m ready to do so not based on what I’ve already done in this company and others, but based on the want and the desire to accomplish what I haven’t done yet.
Others will come and go, but when the dust settles, there will be but one who has proven that the pressure isn’t too great. There is one man who will prove that the weight wasn’t crippling. There is one man who will be turned into that diamond by that pressure…
And that man...is me.
The scene opens and as I’m driving down a highway somewhere in the middle of the desert, I have my phone mounted to the dashboard, the camera aimed in my direction.
I go and win a match that qualifies me for the final five entry spots, and then I watch that little video with Tyler Jacobs, and I find out that I am the final entrant in the 2018 Roulette Match.
I nod my head, a confident smile gracing my face.
A little bit of a winning streak to push my momentum, the final spot in the Roulette...God damn are things looking up for yours truly.
I hold my index finger upward to slow things down a bit.
But, I’m not an idiot. I’m not some naive newcomer, and I damn sure know that being the occupant of that final entry spot is both a blessing, and a curse all at the same time. It’s a blessing because I get to survey the field. Everyone else will have some measure of fatigue as “Cult of Personality” hits those speakers. Every single person in that match will be breathing heavy, and each and every single one will have already been through a bit of a fight before I even step in that ring.
I flip my hand over representing the other side of the coin.
Those other men, those left standing will hear the buzzer, they may even stop what they’re doing all together. They’ll turn their heads and narrow their gaze to the stage when I step out, and instantaneously, there will be a target imprinted on my back. Just as I’m telling you now, that I know I’ll be fresh, they know that too. Just as I’m telling you now that they’ll be worn down...they know that too. Their focus will turn to me, and their desire will be to beat me down and try to eliminate me as fast as possible, but if they can’t, at least take my energy level down a few notches to meet theirs.
So how does one stop this from happening? How do I stop this from taking place?
The smirk reappears on my face as the confidence is quite apparent. I slam my hand into my fist before retaking the wheel.
Hit them hard, hit them fast, and use their own momentum against them. I’m going to step in that ring and as they charge me to take their shot, one by one by one, I’ll cancel them out. I’ll render their attack useless, and hell, if some get overzealous, I may just step aside and give them an assist over the top rope, their ass hitting the floor, my attention moving on to the next.
I place my hand in my chest.
I know what this Roulette means to each and every one of them, because on some level it means the same to me. However, I know, and I know you know because I’ve said it on more than one occasion, what a win in the Roulette means to me. I know that desire that fuels me to go on from the final entry spot, to become the winner, and the Number One Contender for the IWF World Title at Night of the Immortals. I know the meaning behind it all, and I hope I’ve done a good enough job conveying that meaning to all of you, because this match, this single battle royal, might be the biggest match of my entire career.
I wipe my hand by the lens.
Bigger than the Heir to the Throne. This match is bigger than beating Angel in the Extinction Event to win the Imperial Title. That moment, after I eliminate the final person in the match and hear my name called will be even greater than the day I sat atop the ladder with the Joker In The Pack Contract in my hand. The trifecta will be won and my name will go down as the one and only in history to do so.
I pull off of the road and put the vehicle in park. I turn to the camera, my hands and focus now free to do as I please without having to abide by the rules of the road.
But we’ve been over that. We know my motivation, and as much as some may want to pound their motives into your skulls, I don’t feel that need. You know it, and it’s now tucked away in your mind so that when it happens it’ll flood to the forefront of your attention, you’ll smile, you’ll nod your head, and you’ll say…”he said it all along”.
While others do their best to ridicule the field, to make them feel like useless pieces of shit while boosting their own ego, while propping themselves up on a pedestal, I just sit and smile because I can’t wait to burst that bubble with a nice pointy needle. While others claim it’s their time, I simply shake my head because I, just like all of you watching, know that they’re wrong.
Yet others will talk of stepping up, this being their moment to shine, but I can’t help but wonder, why now? Why have this attitude that now is the time to show the world what you’re really worth? There’s 364 other days on the calendar that are just as worthy of your attempt as this one night with all of these other guys in the ring. The Roulette is so much more than a showcase of one’s abilities. It’s so much more than a chance to get your name out there. The IWF Roulette is now, and has always been the chance to show one thing, and one thing only...you’re better than everyone else.
I point my hand out to the side.
Last year, I came so close. I was right there and I could taste victory on the tip of my tongue, but as fate would have it...I wasn’t better. There were in fact two who were better, and one who was the best, and his name was Andrew Jacobsen, and he backed it up with the longest reign in IWF Championship history.
A year has gone by, and I’ve gotten better. A year has gone by and I’ve gotten hungrier than any other point in my career. A year has gone by, and I vow to not only make the final four of this damn Roulette...but this year win the whole damn thing.
And NOBODY is going to stop me.
==========================================
Title: Pressure
Location: Las Vegas, Nevada
Time: 12:52 AM Local Time
It’s the city that never sleeps. The lights never dim, and the sounds never dwindle, and for me, then and there, it was the time and place I needed. I couldn’t sleep. There was an anticipation inside me, a nervousness that I haven’t felt in some time. I was used to being in the spotlight. I had done it my whole career from promotion to promotion. I had been in some of the biggest matches in IWF History, and yet, here I was, actually getting...butterflies?
I walked down the strip, my hands in my pockets. It was almost one o’clock in the morning but judging by the foot traffic around me, you’d think it was almost one o’clock in the afternoon. People were still cruising the strip, drunks stumbling around, homeless people begging for money, and normal people like myself just out for a stroll...at least, that’s how it would appear to the passer by.
For me?
For me it was a chance to reflect on my career as a whole, but for your enjoyment, we’ll fast forward to the part you care about, the IWF. I knew what this match meant to me. It was the one feat I haven’t accomplished in an IWF ring, aside from being the Invictus Champion, which coincidentally enough, is also achievable within the confines of this huge match. It’s the whole in my legacy that I’m leaving behind, the one gap yet to be filled by the actions of a man who wants this so badly.
I continued down the strip and thought of my rise through the company. I thought of my battles with Killian Creed, my battles with Cable Arcane in the beginning of this company’s sole history. Hell, I was in the main event of the first Sacrifice. Me, not Spike Kane in all of his glory, not Andrew Jacobsen and his morality, not Cable Arcane and his proclamation of being the Best In The World...it was me.
I thought of the first time I had battled Angel, and the subsequent times after, dealing with his mind games, trying to solve his riddles, trying to figure out what made him tick until that fateful night that the world watched him tap out in the center of the ring. I thought of battles with Alex Jones, with Rob Diamond, with Steve Awesome. I thought of the titles won and lost. I thought of main eventing Night of the Immortals with The Ace and Roberto Verona. It was a flood of emotion, peaks and valleys of triumph and defeat, and yet through every single bit of it, I don’t ever remember feeling this way.
I felt as if I was being pressured more now than any other time in my life. Others might cower, others might run from this pressure, seek shelter from the immense weight thrust upon my shoulders. This was a do or die situation; a win at all costs situation.
This was a point in time where it was time to forge a new path. No longer was I to rely on the past, because it is just that. No longer was I to rely on a name’s value, because that name does nothing for me inside that ring.
Inside that ring, I’m one of many. Inside that ring, in the Roulette Match, I am simply but a cog on the wheel that is the overall machine that is known as the IWF. The wheel’s will turn long after I’m gone, but I’ll be damned if I don’t engrave my name into the machine. I’ll be damned if people don’t know that I was here. I’ll be damned if the world doesn’t recognize and celebrate the name Mike Laszlo.
The weight of the world is on my shoulders. The pressure I’m feeling heading into the Roulette is indeed immense. I know exactly what to do...hold that weight high above my head, display it proudly, show the world that I can handle both it, and the pressures it exudes. I say I’m the best period, and now is the time to show it.
There’s a shiver down my spine, a strange occurrence considering the warm weather. The excitement was getting to me, I could feel it. The anticipation was mounting, I couldn’t wait for the moment.
Sunday, March Twenty Fifth
10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1!
The buzzer will go off, my music will hit. I’ll walk out onto that stage, look down at the ring and I’ll take a deep breath.
My eyes open, realizing that I was imagining the moment all along. The focus is there, and one simple phrase leaves my lips.
Mike Laszlo: Game on!
My voice was a little louder than I had anticipated and a nearby pedestrian turns toward me.
Pedestrian: Game? What game? What are you good at?
I turn to him and smile…
Mike Laszlo: Roulette.
He seemed confused, shrugged his shoulders and walked off. I continued on my way, a smirk on my face.
Mike Laszlo: Roulette...indeed.
==========================================
The scene opens up and I’m sitting in the bed of my truck, the night sky above. The lights of Sin City are off in the distance, the noise has turned to silence. As the camera moves in, I’m looking up at the stars before acknowledging it’s presence.
They say that pressure can do one of two things. It can cause a person to explode, like a far off star seeing it’s last days, combusting before wiping itself from existence.
I look down to the camera aimed at me.
Or it can cause a person to rise above it all. It can make a person go above and beyond anything they’ve ever dreamed of, even in their wildest of imaginations. Pressure can cause things to explode, but it can also form diamonds.
I extend my arm, pointing out to the side as if pointing at the field of Roulette participants themselves.
There’s plenty in this match who can talk a good game. They’ll tell you there’s risks that need to be taken. They’ll tell you that they’re the best of the best of the best, and they’ll rattle off a list of accomplishments. I’m guilty, but some are taking it to extremes...no pun intended...or is there?
Each will give you his perceived role, each will map out how they’re going to win.
What they won’t talk about is the pressure. They won’t tell you that there’s a weight being held above them, and they won’t tell you whether they think they can flourish in such a situation, or if they’ll crumble beneath the mighty weight held over them.
I point to myself.
I know all about pressure. I know what kind of pressure I put on myself, let alone the weight of expectation thrust upon me by a fanbase, by pundits. I know what that weight feels like, and I’d be lying if I told you it wasn’t hard to imagine many falling beneath that weight, crumbling beneath that pressure.
Sure…
They tell you they’re ready. They tell you their time is now. They tell you their done playing around and it’s time to get serious.
I point into the lens of the camera as if it were the viewers themselves.
But sit there on your couch. Look at the person next to you, or ask yourself, how much of what they tell you is bullshit? How much of the vile they spew is simple bravado to try and prop themselves up? How much of what they say do they actually believe?
I smack the bed of my truck, the thud echoing over the open landscape around me.
Sure as hell as I’m sitting here right now, I believe what I say. I tell you I’m the best period, not to put it on a t-shirt, but to let you know how I feel about myself because let’s face it, if I don’t believe I’m the best, there’s not a single person in the back who will either. If I don’t look in the mirror and encourage myself with those words, believe in those words, not a single person in that arena, or a single person at home will believe them either.
I extend my arm back out.
So while others hold themselves up with crutches of insults, while others demean the accomplishments of others just to make their own seem that more significant, I’ll sit right here, I’ll look dead into that lens, and I will tell you with the most sober of faces, that I am ready for the 2018 Roulette. I am ready to stamp my name in the history books. I am ready to take a pen and write in the name Mike Laszlo as the challenger for the IWF World Championship at Night of the Immortals.
And I’m ready to do so not based on what I’ve already done in this company and others, but based on the want and the desire to accomplish what I haven’t done yet.
Others will come and go, but when the dust settles, there will be but one who has proven that the pressure isn’t too great. There is one man who will prove that the weight wasn’t crippling. There is one man who will be turned into that diamond by that pressure…
And that man...is me.
Well howdy there pardner.