Post by Alexis Caffrey on Jun 25, 2018 3:29:12 GMT
She sits there, her arms folded in front of her. She’s sitting at a table in the break room at the gym, resting after a hard training session, contemplating the situation she’s been presented. On one hand, she’s happy for me. I got a match at Night of the Immortals, and despite not winning, I continue to be a presence on television. She lost her chance at a match at Night of the Immortals, and the booking has kind of lost her in the shuffle ever since, and I know, not only living with her every day, but knowing the kind of person she is, knowing the kind of competitor she is, that simply eats her up inside.
Every blow to the heavy bag was more fierce, an extra exertion of effort with every thrust. Every move in the sparring session more calculated, more thought out. She felt the need to get better. She felt like maybe she had lost a step. She didn’t want to admit that the new crop was better than she was, because she will firmly slam her fist on that table in front of her and tell you they’re not.
I could see her deep in her own thought. She’s going over every possible outcome. She’s perhaps over-analyzing the situation, and for a brief second, she takes her mind out of that trap. Her eyes shoot over in my direction, her pupils fixated on the phone in my hand, the lens aimed right at her.
This is a big moment coming up at Bloody Assizes. It’s a way for the faulty booking around here to right their wrongs, to end their confusion, to finally put me on television. It’s an opportunity for me to prove once and for all that the rest of this division is not better than me. It’s my chance to prove that I haven’t gone soft due to the accolades I’ve had bestowed upon me. It’s a chance for me to show the world that this entire company isn’t just about demons and gods, and gang wars. This isn’t a fairytale ladies and gentlemen, it’s wrestling, and I’m here to explain to you that I am the most skilled competitor in that ring.
Her arm flares out to the side, her index finger shot out like an arrow, directing her fury at all the rest.
So while the rest of the world is enamored with the so-called all powerful, I’m going to exact the revenge of a woman scorned. I know my capabilities, as do all of you. My track record, my accolades, they’ve been well spoken of in the past, and I find it to be a broken record if I recite them to you again, so I’ll spare the air, and your ears.
She folds her hands in front of her on the table, intertwining her fingers like a twisted web. She takes a deep breath and a calmness falls over the scene.
Others will tell you what they’re going to do in this match. They’re going to state the obvious; tell you how dangerous this match is going to be, how fun it will be to inflict pain on others with the weapons at our disposal. Not me.
I don’t find it fun to hurt other people. That’s primitive, and quite frankly, below my thinking process. No, what I’ll tell you instead is what this means to me as a competitor. I’m going to go down to a deeper thought process than some of these other girls are even capable of, not because I want to, no, not at all, it’s because I need to.
Her eyes glance back up at the lens of the phone, her head slowly following, a slight kink in the neck, her head tilted to the side.
I need to go deeper because to be as plain and as simple as I possibly can, this match at Bloody Assizes, this “Last Rites” match, might be just that for me. This might just be my last chance to hold a championship of any kind in this company. This single moment may be my last chance to start clawing at the rocks that line the mountain back to the top.
For others, this is their first step at relevancy, for me, it’s a first step to prove that I’m not a relic of some bygone era, an era talked about fondly with the likes of Amber Richards, Eternity, and Jessica Reed, because ladies...I’m not done yet...not yet by a long shot.
She points down, pressing her index finger on the plywood table in front of her.
This match, this moment, it’s bigger than anyone else can comprehend. This is the one, singular chance to write your name in the history book as the first ever Luchadora Champion. This comes along one time in the history of a championship. That chance to make history, that chance to be called the first, it’s the statement that I need to make inside that ring, and I’m informing the rest of the field here and now, that there’s not a single girl in that locker room with the will power I do. I’m informing every other entrant that they don’t have what it takes to stop me from making said statement, not because they’re not good enough, but because I’m just better.
She reaches back and rubs her neck with her hand. She slowly ran her fingers over the spot where she was cut open for surgery. She closed her eyes, and I felt like for a moment, she was lost in that moment; the moment she was put under, and the blade pierced her skin. I don’t know what she felt, I don’t even venture to know anything that serious as the worst thing that’s happened to me is a knee injury. Her eyes remained closed as she continued on.
I was told I couldn’t do this anymore. I was told not to wrestle. Then I was given hope. I was told something could be done to make things better, but I would have to change the risks I took within that ring. There were limitations put upon me, and though I didn’t want to abide by them, I have to...otherwise, life gets tougher than it ever did before.
Her eyes open as she brings her hand back in front of her, once more locking the fingers of her two hands together.
For the longest time, “changing things up” meant being a shell of myself. It meant not taking the risks I would have taken just a year earlier.
Now I know differently.
“Changing things up” doesn’t have to mean being a shell of myself. It doesn’t have to mean limiting my potential in that ring. It means I have to adapt. It means I have to get even better just to overcome the limitations put on me by the doctors. It means that things, while they might change, will make me even more dangerous than at any time before.
At Bloody Assizes, I don’t care how many women are in this match. I don’t care what weapons are at their disposal, or mine. All I care about is becoming the first ever Luchadora Champion. All I care about is proving to the world what I already know deep down inside. I’m back, and there’s no chance in hell of me being anything less than what I’ve ever been before...I will...be better.
*********************************************************
May 27, 2018
Night of the Immortals. It’s the grandest stage that the professional wrestling world has seen in quite some time. I was in the back, near the “Gorilla” position, sitting in a steel folding chair, watching the action unfold with some of the others in the back. We watched as my husband and Bob Pooler worked their match, and there were two parts of me watching, literally as if I was split in half. On one hand, I was absolutely proud of my husband. He set out a goal to be on this card, and he was not only on it, but competing for a championship at the same time. The other half of me was different. While proud, I was a little bit bitter, somewhat jealous as well. I was bitter because I wasn’t on that stage. I couldn’t earn my platform to shine in front of the world. I was bitter indeed.
I was jealous because his path was different from mine. All he had to do was turn his back on someone. He got to be the bad guy again, a role he likes to play. Meanwhile, I’m here in the back, having to be the “good girl”, earning my way to some sort of match. My path was clearly harder, and a part of me just didn’t appreciate that. I took a deep breath though, continuing to watch, continuing to support the man I love. I watched until the bell rang. I heard Bob’s music playing in the arena and I stood up from the chair, waiting near the curtain for Mike to walk through. I watched as first the referee for the match walked through, and slowly behind him was my husband. I greeted him with a hug and a kiss.
Alexis Caffrey: You did great out there. Really tore the house down.
Mike Laszlo: I guess.
We walked through the group of wrestlers, making our way to the corridors of the arena that led toward the locker room area.
Alexis Caffrey: What do you mean “I guess.”?
Mike Laszlo: I didn’t win. I’m not standing here as the Strong Style Champion. You know I hate to lose, and I’m just not exactly thrilled right now.
Alexis Caffrey: I mean, I get that, but at least you had a match.
Apparently that didn’t sit well with him at that very moment.
Mike Laszlo: Well that’s not my fault is it!?
I was taken aback. He hadn’t yelled at me like that in a while, and to be quite honest, it as startling. There was silence as we continued down the hall. I think he regretted that outburst, but I didn’t want to push my luck, and so I kept quiet. We entered our locker room and he started getting ready for a shower while I just sat there on the couch. The supportive side of me, the part that was proud of him for accomplishing his goal wanted to rush to his side and comfort him.
The bitter, jealous side of me was glaring a hole right through him. How dare he yell at me and be mad at me because he lost. How dare he snap at me and remind me of my failures. I watched as he walked into the shower, closing the door behind him. As he cleaned up and got ready to leave, I was left to sit and stew, and stew I did. I felt the anger building up inside me, and I wanted to tear right through that shower door and give him a piece of my mind.
Ten minutes or so had gone by and I heard the door to the shower open up. It caught my attention and I lowered my phone enough to see over it as he got out. He dried off and got dressed, then walked over and tapped my feet that were outstretched on the couch as if to say “Give me some room.” Reluctantly, and without talking, I swung my legs to the side. He sat next to me on the couch and folded his hands in his lap. I could tell he was getting ready to say something, but I really didn’t care at that point in time, and I continued on with my game.
He took a deep breath and turned toward me. The silence was broken by the man who caused it.
Mike Laszlo: Hey, I thought about what I did in there, and I just want to apologize.
I ignored him until he slowly wrapped his fingers over the top of my phone and slowly pulled it out of my hands. I rolled my eyes.
Mike Laszlo: I said, I’m sorry.
Alexis Caffrey: Is that like a magical snap of the fingers? Is that supposed to make me feel better about failing to get a match on the card and then having you rub it in my face? If so, let me tell you something...it doesn’t work.
Mike Laszlo: You caught me in the heat of the moment. I lashed out.
Alexis Caffrey: Excuses? You being in the moment doesn’t give you the right to turn off your brain Mike. Being in the moment isn’t a good reason for you lashing out at me and demeaning me like that. You know as well as anyone else in this entire freaking world how much I wanted to be on this card. You knew that I worked my ass off to comeback from a career threatening injury...just to get on this card. You of all the damn people in this world knew how hurt I was when I didn’t make this card...and of all things to say to me...you say that!?
No fury like a woman scorned right? I let him have it, and any time he tried to counter, I cut him off and tore him down again. I snatched my phone from his hands and went back to playing my game.
Alexis Caffrey: I don’t need excuses, I don’t need an apology, because you know what? It doesn’t erase what was said or done. So just finish getting ready so we can go. I don’t want to be here anymore.
I had a right to be angry, and I think he knew that. He figured that the battle would be waged another day, and he grabbed his shoes, tieing them up, and started packing his things. Finishing, he stacked them in a way in which he could carry them all and looked down on me on the couch.
Mike Laszlo: I’m done, let’s go.
We got to the door, and though we were fighting, his chivalry still got the best of him, holding the door for me as I in essence stormed out. I dragged my suitcase behind me, and he followed out as we got to the parking garage. He told me to leave my things at the tailgate so he could put them in the SUV, and I did so, walking around and sitting in the passenger seat. I heard the thuds as he loaded the car, and I couldn’t help but feel extremely annoyed with the entire situation. I had a headache and closed my eyes to alleviate some of the pain. I held my hand up to my forehead, shadowing my eyes from all the lights, and I disappeared into a train of thought.
Alexis Caffrey: The company has forgotten me. The world has forgotten me. My own husband doesn’t believe in me.
Hearing those words as I spoke them to myself under my breath, my eyes opened, I sat up in my seat, and it was at that very moment that a lightbulb went off. I would prove them all wrong. I would make them remember me. I would make them all believe in me again.
Alexis Caffrey: It’s time to do what I do best…
He got in the car and looked over at me. I looked out the window as he started the car and we pulled out of the arena before the show even ended.
*********************************************************
As the scene opens up, we see Alexis sitting in the passenger seat of the car we were using around the city of Oakland. From the time we had our argument at Night of the Immortals ‘til now, we have since made up, hence me being behind this phone, pointing the camera at the woman I love. Every marriage has fights, and that happened to be one of ours. Her jet black hair cascaded down her back as she had it tied up in a ponytail. She was leaning up against the passenger door ledge, her head resting in her open palm. She had sunglasses on and so we couldn’t really tell if she was looking at me or not as we sat in the hotel parking lot before heading up to our room. Then she spoke.
All my life, I’ve been told I can’t. I couldn’t get through high school because my mother was the local whore, their words, not mine. I was told I couldn’t get into college because I didn’t have a stable home, and I couldn’t get the grades to garner a scholarship. Then came the real world. I had graduated high school with a 4.0 GPA. I had gotten a scholarship into a university, and I graduated with honors, becoming a sports agent.
Then I started training to become a wrestler and a bunch of people said I couldn’t do that either. I was too small, too frail, I would break in that ring. I was told by others that I wasn’t strong enough...then I had my first match.
The IWF came along. It was my first big break in the wrestling industry. All of the time spent training, and positioning myself with the right people had finally paid off and I was able to show every doubter I had how foolish they were.
They continued to doubt me.
They said I couldn’t win the Iron Maiden the year I was in. They said after I won that, that I couldn’t beat Ana Valentine at Night of the Immortals, then I did. They told me it was a fluke after I lost relatively quickly to Eternity, and told me I couldn’t beat her...then I did. They told me it wouldn’t last, but nobody could beat me for one hundred and fifty-four days, and when they finally did, it took four other women to do it.
I got hurt in that match and was told I couldn’t be me, and when I tried to do what I did before, I crashed hard and was told by doctors I could never wrestle again...yet here I am.
Do you sense the pattern? Do you get it yet? Do I have to keep pounding on the table in front of me, to finally hammer the thought into your heads? If you tell me I can’t do something, all you’re doing is motivating me to do it. Motivation, plus this fury balled up into this little package in front of you equals the rage of which you can’t comprehend. All of that built up negativity, all of that built up determination that fuels me forward is going to be unleashed in the Last Rites match upon all who enter.
You tell me I can’t...I know I can.
I’m not discrediting any girl in this match for they all have skills, otherwise, they wouldn’t be in the number one Women’s Division in all of wrestling. They all have the ability to win this match, otherwise they wouldn’t be in the forefront of a women’s revolution started generations before them in this company. What they don’t have over me is the overwhelming desire to prove the world wrong. What they don’t have over my is the fuel of the hatred of others, the jealousy of others, the disdain they have toward me. How dare the smallest girl in the fight come out and put all the others on notice. How dare she declare that she’s better than them. How dare she call her shot and call herself the first Luchadora Champion, angering everybody else in the field.
She sits up in her seat and raises her sunglasses over her eyes. She turns toward the lens, her brown eyes beaming with purpose.
It’s not me who dares ladies and gentlemen, it’s each and every one of you. You dare…to doubt me.
And that mistake is yours...and yours alone.
All I can do is correct said mistake, and prove you wrong…AGAIN!
The scene comes to an abrupt end as I end the feed plunging your eyes into darkness.
Every blow to the heavy bag was more fierce, an extra exertion of effort with every thrust. Every move in the sparring session more calculated, more thought out. She felt the need to get better. She felt like maybe she had lost a step. She didn’t want to admit that the new crop was better than she was, because she will firmly slam her fist on that table in front of her and tell you they’re not.
I could see her deep in her own thought. She’s going over every possible outcome. She’s perhaps over-analyzing the situation, and for a brief second, she takes her mind out of that trap. Her eyes shoot over in my direction, her pupils fixated on the phone in my hand, the lens aimed right at her.
This is a big moment coming up at Bloody Assizes. It’s a way for the faulty booking around here to right their wrongs, to end their confusion, to finally put me on television. It’s an opportunity for me to prove once and for all that the rest of this division is not better than me. It’s my chance to prove that I haven’t gone soft due to the accolades I’ve had bestowed upon me. It’s a chance for me to show the world that this entire company isn’t just about demons and gods, and gang wars. This isn’t a fairytale ladies and gentlemen, it’s wrestling, and I’m here to explain to you that I am the most skilled competitor in that ring.
Her arm flares out to the side, her index finger shot out like an arrow, directing her fury at all the rest.
So while the rest of the world is enamored with the so-called all powerful, I’m going to exact the revenge of a woman scorned. I know my capabilities, as do all of you. My track record, my accolades, they’ve been well spoken of in the past, and I find it to be a broken record if I recite them to you again, so I’ll spare the air, and your ears.
She folds her hands in front of her on the table, intertwining her fingers like a twisted web. She takes a deep breath and a calmness falls over the scene.
Others will tell you what they’re going to do in this match. They’re going to state the obvious; tell you how dangerous this match is going to be, how fun it will be to inflict pain on others with the weapons at our disposal. Not me.
I don’t find it fun to hurt other people. That’s primitive, and quite frankly, below my thinking process. No, what I’ll tell you instead is what this means to me as a competitor. I’m going to go down to a deeper thought process than some of these other girls are even capable of, not because I want to, no, not at all, it’s because I need to.
Her eyes glance back up at the lens of the phone, her head slowly following, a slight kink in the neck, her head tilted to the side.
I need to go deeper because to be as plain and as simple as I possibly can, this match at Bloody Assizes, this “Last Rites” match, might be just that for me. This might just be my last chance to hold a championship of any kind in this company. This single moment may be my last chance to start clawing at the rocks that line the mountain back to the top.
For others, this is their first step at relevancy, for me, it’s a first step to prove that I’m not a relic of some bygone era, an era talked about fondly with the likes of Amber Richards, Eternity, and Jessica Reed, because ladies...I’m not done yet...not yet by a long shot.
She points down, pressing her index finger on the plywood table in front of her.
This match, this moment, it’s bigger than anyone else can comprehend. This is the one, singular chance to write your name in the history book as the first ever Luchadora Champion. This comes along one time in the history of a championship. That chance to make history, that chance to be called the first, it’s the statement that I need to make inside that ring, and I’m informing the rest of the field here and now, that there’s not a single girl in that locker room with the will power I do. I’m informing every other entrant that they don’t have what it takes to stop me from making said statement, not because they’re not good enough, but because I’m just better.
She reaches back and rubs her neck with her hand. She slowly ran her fingers over the spot where she was cut open for surgery. She closed her eyes, and I felt like for a moment, she was lost in that moment; the moment she was put under, and the blade pierced her skin. I don’t know what she felt, I don’t even venture to know anything that serious as the worst thing that’s happened to me is a knee injury. Her eyes remained closed as she continued on.
I was told I couldn’t do this anymore. I was told not to wrestle. Then I was given hope. I was told something could be done to make things better, but I would have to change the risks I took within that ring. There were limitations put upon me, and though I didn’t want to abide by them, I have to...otherwise, life gets tougher than it ever did before.
Her eyes open as she brings her hand back in front of her, once more locking the fingers of her two hands together.
For the longest time, “changing things up” meant being a shell of myself. It meant not taking the risks I would have taken just a year earlier.
Now I know differently.
“Changing things up” doesn’t have to mean being a shell of myself. It doesn’t have to mean limiting my potential in that ring. It means I have to adapt. It means I have to get even better just to overcome the limitations put on me by the doctors. It means that things, while they might change, will make me even more dangerous than at any time before.
At Bloody Assizes, I don’t care how many women are in this match. I don’t care what weapons are at their disposal, or mine. All I care about is becoming the first ever Luchadora Champion. All I care about is proving to the world what I already know deep down inside. I’m back, and there’s no chance in hell of me being anything less than what I’ve ever been before...I will...be better.
*********************************************************
May 27, 2018
Night of the Immortals. It’s the grandest stage that the professional wrestling world has seen in quite some time. I was in the back, near the “Gorilla” position, sitting in a steel folding chair, watching the action unfold with some of the others in the back. We watched as my husband and Bob Pooler worked their match, and there were two parts of me watching, literally as if I was split in half. On one hand, I was absolutely proud of my husband. He set out a goal to be on this card, and he was not only on it, but competing for a championship at the same time. The other half of me was different. While proud, I was a little bit bitter, somewhat jealous as well. I was bitter because I wasn’t on that stage. I couldn’t earn my platform to shine in front of the world. I was bitter indeed.
I was jealous because his path was different from mine. All he had to do was turn his back on someone. He got to be the bad guy again, a role he likes to play. Meanwhile, I’m here in the back, having to be the “good girl”, earning my way to some sort of match. My path was clearly harder, and a part of me just didn’t appreciate that. I took a deep breath though, continuing to watch, continuing to support the man I love. I watched until the bell rang. I heard Bob’s music playing in the arena and I stood up from the chair, waiting near the curtain for Mike to walk through. I watched as first the referee for the match walked through, and slowly behind him was my husband. I greeted him with a hug and a kiss.
Alexis Caffrey: You did great out there. Really tore the house down.
Mike Laszlo: I guess.
We walked through the group of wrestlers, making our way to the corridors of the arena that led toward the locker room area.
Alexis Caffrey: What do you mean “I guess.”?
Mike Laszlo: I didn’t win. I’m not standing here as the Strong Style Champion. You know I hate to lose, and I’m just not exactly thrilled right now.
Alexis Caffrey: I mean, I get that, but at least you had a match.
Apparently that didn’t sit well with him at that very moment.
Mike Laszlo: Well that’s not my fault is it!?
I was taken aback. He hadn’t yelled at me like that in a while, and to be quite honest, it as startling. There was silence as we continued down the hall. I think he regretted that outburst, but I didn’t want to push my luck, and so I kept quiet. We entered our locker room and he started getting ready for a shower while I just sat there on the couch. The supportive side of me, the part that was proud of him for accomplishing his goal wanted to rush to his side and comfort him.
The bitter, jealous side of me was glaring a hole right through him. How dare he yell at me and be mad at me because he lost. How dare he snap at me and remind me of my failures. I watched as he walked into the shower, closing the door behind him. As he cleaned up and got ready to leave, I was left to sit and stew, and stew I did. I felt the anger building up inside me, and I wanted to tear right through that shower door and give him a piece of my mind.
Ten minutes or so had gone by and I heard the door to the shower open up. It caught my attention and I lowered my phone enough to see over it as he got out. He dried off and got dressed, then walked over and tapped my feet that were outstretched on the couch as if to say “Give me some room.” Reluctantly, and without talking, I swung my legs to the side. He sat next to me on the couch and folded his hands in his lap. I could tell he was getting ready to say something, but I really didn’t care at that point in time, and I continued on with my game.
He took a deep breath and turned toward me. The silence was broken by the man who caused it.
Mike Laszlo: Hey, I thought about what I did in there, and I just want to apologize.
I ignored him until he slowly wrapped his fingers over the top of my phone and slowly pulled it out of my hands. I rolled my eyes.
Mike Laszlo: I said, I’m sorry.
Alexis Caffrey: Is that like a magical snap of the fingers? Is that supposed to make me feel better about failing to get a match on the card and then having you rub it in my face? If so, let me tell you something...it doesn’t work.
Mike Laszlo: You caught me in the heat of the moment. I lashed out.
Alexis Caffrey: Excuses? You being in the moment doesn’t give you the right to turn off your brain Mike. Being in the moment isn’t a good reason for you lashing out at me and demeaning me like that. You know as well as anyone else in this entire freaking world how much I wanted to be on this card. You knew that I worked my ass off to comeback from a career threatening injury...just to get on this card. You of all the damn people in this world knew how hurt I was when I didn’t make this card...and of all things to say to me...you say that!?
No fury like a woman scorned right? I let him have it, and any time he tried to counter, I cut him off and tore him down again. I snatched my phone from his hands and went back to playing my game.
Alexis Caffrey: I don’t need excuses, I don’t need an apology, because you know what? It doesn’t erase what was said or done. So just finish getting ready so we can go. I don’t want to be here anymore.
I had a right to be angry, and I think he knew that. He figured that the battle would be waged another day, and he grabbed his shoes, tieing them up, and started packing his things. Finishing, he stacked them in a way in which he could carry them all and looked down on me on the couch.
Mike Laszlo: I’m done, let’s go.
We got to the door, and though we were fighting, his chivalry still got the best of him, holding the door for me as I in essence stormed out. I dragged my suitcase behind me, and he followed out as we got to the parking garage. He told me to leave my things at the tailgate so he could put them in the SUV, and I did so, walking around and sitting in the passenger seat. I heard the thuds as he loaded the car, and I couldn’t help but feel extremely annoyed with the entire situation. I had a headache and closed my eyes to alleviate some of the pain. I held my hand up to my forehead, shadowing my eyes from all the lights, and I disappeared into a train of thought.
Alexis Caffrey: The company has forgotten me. The world has forgotten me. My own husband doesn’t believe in me.
Hearing those words as I spoke them to myself under my breath, my eyes opened, I sat up in my seat, and it was at that very moment that a lightbulb went off. I would prove them all wrong. I would make them remember me. I would make them all believe in me again.
Alexis Caffrey: It’s time to do what I do best…
He got in the car and looked over at me. I looked out the window as he started the car and we pulled out of the arena before the show even ended.
*********************************************************
As the scene opens up, we see Alexis sitting in the passenger seat of the car we were using around the city of Oakland. From the time we had our argument at Night of the Immortals ‘til now, we have since made up, hence me being behind this phone, pointing the camera at the woman I love. Every marriage has fights, and that happened to be one of ours. Her jet black hair cascaded down her back as she had it tied up in a ponytail. She was leaning up against the passenger door ledge, her head resting in her open palm. She had sunglasses on and so we couldn’t really tell if she was looking at me or not as we sat in the hotel parking lot before heading up to our room. Then she spoke.
All my life, I’ve been told I can’t. I couldn’t get through high school because my mother was the local whore, their words, not mine. I was told I couldn’t get into college because I didn’t have a stable home, and I couldn’t get the grades to garner a scholarship. Then came the real world. I had graduated high school with a 4.0 GPA. I had gotten a scholarship into a university, and I graduated with honors, becoming a sports agent.
Then I started training to become a wrestler and a bunch of people said I couldn’t do that either. I was too small, too frail, I would break in that ring. I was told by others that I wasn’t strong enough...then I had my first match.
The IWF came along. It was my first big break in the wrestling industry. All of the time spent training, and positioning myself with the right people had finally paid off and I was able to show every doubter I had how foolish they were.
They continued to doubt me.
They said I couldn’t win the Iron Maiden the year I was in. They said after I won that, that I couldn’t beat Ana Valentine at Night of the Immortals, then I did. They told me it was a fluke after I lost relatively quickly to Eternity, and told me I couldn’t beat her...then I did. They told me it wouldn’t last, but nobody could beat me for one hundred and fifty-four days, and when they finally did, it took four other women to do it.
I got hurt in that match and was told I couldn’t be me, and when I tried to do what I did before, I crashed hard and was told by doctors I could never wrestle again...yet here I am.
Do you sense the pattern? Do you get it yet? Do I have to keep pounding on the table in front of me, to finally hammer the thought into your heads? If you tell me I can’t do something, all you’re doing is motivating me to do it. Motivation, plus this fury balled up into this little package in front of you equals the rage of which you can’t comprehend. All of that built up negativity, all of that built up determination that fuels me forward is going to be unleashed in the Last Rites match upon all who enter.
You tell me I can’t...I know I can.
I’m not discrediting any girl in this match for they all have skills, otherwise, they wouldn’t be in the number one Women’s Division in all of wrestling. They all have the ability to win this match, otherwise they wouldn’t be in the forefront of a women’s revolution started generations before them in this company. What they don’t have over me is the overwhelming desire to prove the world wrong. What they don’t have over my is the fuel of the hatred of others, the jealousy of others, the disdain they have toward me. How dare the smallest girl in the fight come out and put all the others on notice. How dare she declare that she’s better than them. How dare she call her shot and call herself the first Luchadora Champion, angering everybody else in the field.
She sits up in her seat and raises her sunglasses over her eyes. She turns toward the lens, her brown eyes beaming with purpose.
It’s not me who dares ladies and gentlemen, it’s each and every one of you. You dare…to doubt me.
And that mistake is yours...and yours alone.
All I can do is correct said mistake, and prove you wrong…AGAIN!
The scene comes to an abrupt end as I end the feed plunging your eyes into darkness.
Well howdy there pardner.