Post by Roberto Verona on Jul 29, 2018 18:06:02 GMT
{ Our scene opens up right in the hearts of this weekend’s Lineage pay per views as we can see the Dragons Den being raised up to the ceiling where it is to be suspended before this Sunday’s main event between Dean Harper and Spike Kane. Verona looks at the imposing structure, his arms crossed, as the production staff chatter amongst themselves around him. He stands silently for a moment as a hooded figure slowly approaches him from behind, their head bowed with their hands hidden in two large pockets. }
Roberto Verona: If you want to sneak up on me you could at least try to look a little inconspicuous.
{ The figure stops in their tracks as Verona looks over his shoulder before turning around completely. }
Roberto Verona: Drop the hood, you’re not a hitwoman.
{ the figure raises their arms and slowly removes the hood, revealing a head of blonde hair as we see it is none other than Jessica Reed. }
Jessica Reed: How did you know it was me?
Roberto Verona: You mean besides the Chewbacca hoodie and sweatpants I’ve seen you wear a thousand times? I could practically smell you coming.
Jessica Reed: Hey!
Roberto Verona: It also helps if you don’t walk out of your rehabilitation sessions when the physicians have my number of speed dial. I’ve been expecting you to show up all day.
Jessica Reed: Yeah… about that…
Roberto Verona: You’ll never be in any condition to slap the bitch out of Rowan McDonnough if you shirk on your recovery, Jess. She isn’t here, either, for the record, the Pack and Age of Gods are barred from the building until show time.
Jessica Reed: She isn’t why I am here.
Roberto Verona: Then why are you here?
Jessica Reed: To see how you’re doing.
Roberto Verona: I’m fine.
Jessica Reed: Sure you are. That’s why you have two ice giants protecting my sister and you’re paying armed guards to stand outside the physios when they get me to bend and stretch like an elderly person.
Roberto Verona: They’re for your safety.
Jessica Reed: Oh really, I could never have guessed.
Roberto Verona: If you’re going to be snarky…
{ Jessica rolls her eyes. }
Jessica Reed: If you’re going to dodge the question, Bertie, I’ve got all the time in the world the shadow you until you finally break.
Roberto Verona: Do we really have to do this? And don’t call me Bertie.
{ Jessica nods her head. }
Jessica Reed: Yup. I mean, if you’re going to cry we can always go to somewhere less public…
Roberto Verona: I’m fine, Jessica.
Jessica Reed: Really? Is that why you’re having to contain Spike and Dean inside that things this weekend? All this extra security too? The protection details for me, Hannah and the big wigs in the sky boxes? You don’t need to pretend to be a hard ass around me.
{ Verona sighs. }
Roberto Verona: You’re really making my regret hiring those guys to tail you…
Jessica Reed: Whose being snarky now?
Roberto Verona: You’re not going to let this lie, are you?
Jessica Reed: Nope.
{ Roberto shakes his head and turns around, walking towards the ring apron before leaning on it. Jessica slowly joins him, standing by his side. }
Roberto Verona: The truth is, I’m worried. We’ve been under threat before, but nothing like this. Everybody else… they’ve merely turned up when the cameras start to roll and the chaos soon dissipates when the broadcast ends. They’ve always respected the barriers between this ring and everything else outside it. This time is different. It’s more than “just a show” to these people.
{ Verona sighs. }
Roberto Verona: All of this… the ring, the branding, the props… they’re all inconsequential. Mere objects. When the Council burned our property the consequences were merely a few expensive repairs and a grovelling apology to the Russian government. When Spike Kane crucified Xavier Cross the price we paid were a few free outreach programmes to pander to a few local church groups. Every single threat we’ve faced before… the cost has been things that can be easily replaced. This time? The collateral is far greater.
Jessica Reed: You mean me and Hannah? I know you work hard to protect us but…
{ Roberto shakes his head. }
Roberto Verona: It isn’t just you two, although I’d go to the ends of the earth to keep you safe. It is more than that Jessica. These bastards don’t just threaten you two… they threaten everything I have built, everything I’ve poured my heart and soul into…
Jessica Reed: But you just said…
Roberto Verona: That the bricks and mortar can be replaced? I know. It isn’t about that, it isn’t even about the company name or our image… it’s about what this company represents, what it stands for. When I walked out of that court room in Chicago and gave up bounty hunting all those years ago, it is because I lost faith in justice. I saw how the gears could be greased and the lofty ideals of equality before the eyes of the law was nothing more than window dressing. I know what it feels like to be sold something and then see the ugliness beneath the veneer, to realise that your hope was nothing more than an illusion.
{ Verona points around the arena. }
Roberto Verona: All of this… this is just window dressing… what truly matters is the vision I sold every single one of those people in the locker room. A wrestling promotion that is truly equal. One where women aren’t valued as lesser than men. One where it didn’t matter what your name was but about what you did between these ropes. One where anybody could succeed, a platform for those willing to believe in themselves. That is what is at stake here, that is what I am fighting to protect… yet…
{ Jess raises an eyebrow quizzically. }
Jessica Reed: Yet?
Roberto Verona: I can see the doubt in every body’s eyes. I can see that when they look at me they see a billionaire who is only desperate to protect his pocket. Even worse, I can see that others have no hope left, look around you, how many faces do you recognise? Half the staff have been replaced because those who have been here since the beginning no longer trusted us to protect them from all this. I’m hardly a believer… but they’ve lost their faith… and I am worried that it may eventually be too late to get it back.
{ Roberto sighs again, this time more heavily. }
Roberto Verona: Everybody thinks this is about whether or not the company will survive… the truth is, that’s a delusion. IWF will exist... the name, the brand… all of it… but how can I look any new talent in the eye and promise them a vision which has died right in front of them live on weekly television? How can I promise them an even playing field when they’ll have heard all the rumours through the grape vine on the independent circuit about what is going on backstage? How can I sell them hope when all I have for them is despair?
{ Verona bows his head as the pair stand side by side silently. A moment passes before slowly Jessica reaches out a hand, placing it over Verona’s as our scene fades to black. }
Roberto Verona: If you want to sneak up on me you could at least try to look a little inconspicuous.
{ The figure stops in their tracks as Verona looks over his shoulder before turning around completely. }
Roberto Verona: Drop the hood, you’re not a hitwoman.
{ the figure raises their arms and slowly removes the hood, revealing a head of blonde hair as we see it is none other than Jessica Reed. }
Jessica Reed: How did you know it was me?
Roberto Verona: You mean besides the Chewbacca hoodie and sweatpants I’ve seen you wear a thousand times? I could practically smell you coming.
Jessica Reed: Hey!
Roberto Verona: It also helps if you don’t walk out of your rehabilitation sessions when the physicians have my number of speed dial. I’ve been expecting you to show up all day.
Jessica Reed: Yeah… about that…
Roberto Verona: You’ll never be in any condition to slap the bitch out of Rowan McDonnough if you shirk on your recovery, Jess. She isn’t here, either, for the record, the Pack and Age of Gods are barred from the building until show time.
Jessica Reed: She isn’t why I am here.
Roberto Verona: Then why are you here?
Jessica Reed: To see how you’re doing.
Roberto Verona: I’m fine.
Jessica Reed: Sure you are. That’s why you have two ice giants protecting my sister and you’re paying armed guards to stand outside the physios when they get me to bend and stretch like an elderly person.
Roberto Verona: They’re for your safety.
Jessica Reed: Oh really, I could never have guessed.
Roberto Verona: If you’re going to be snarky…
{ Jessica rolls her eyes. }
Jessica Reed: If you’re going to dodge the question, Bertie, I’ve got all the time in the world the shadow you until you finally break.
Roberto Verona: Do we really have to do this? And don’t call me Bertie.
{ Jessica nods her head. }
Jessica Reed: Yup. I mean, if you’re going to cry we can always go to somewhere less public…
Roberto Verona: I’m fine, Jessica.
Jessica Reed: Really? Is that why you’re having to contain Spike and Dean inside that things this weekend? All this extra security too? The protection details for me, Hannah and the big wigs in the sky boxes? You don’t need to pretend to be a hard ass around me.
{ Verona sighs. }
Roberto Verona: You’re really making my regret hiring those guys to tail you…
Jessica Reed: Whose being snarky now?
Roberto Verona: You’re not going to let this lie, are you?
Jessica Reed: Nope.
{ Roberto shakes his head and turns around, walking towards the ring apron before leaning on it. Jessica slowly joins him, standing by his side. }
Roberto Verona: The truth is, I’m worried. We’ve been under threat before, but nothing like this. Everybody else… they’ve merely turned up when the cameras start to roll and the chaos soon dissipates when the broadcast ends. They’ve always respected the barriers between this ring and everything else outside it. This time is different. It’s more than “just a show” to these people.
{ Verona sighs. }
Roberto Verona: All of this… the ring, the branding, the props… they’re all inconsequential. Mere objects. When the Council burned our property the consequences were merely a few expensive repairs and a grovelling apology to the Russian government. When Spike Kane crucified Xavier Cross the price we paid were a few free outreach programmes to pander to a few local church groups. Every single threat we’ve faced before… the cost has been things that can be easily replaced. This time? The collateral is far greater.
Jessica Reed: You mean me and Hannah? I know you work hard to protect us but…
{ Roberto shakes his head. }
Roberto Verona: It isn’t just you two, although I’d go to the ends of the earth to keep you safe. It is more than that Jessica. These bastards don’t just threaten you two… they threaten everything I have built, everything I’ve poured my heart and soul into…
Jessica Reed: But you just said…
Roberto Verona: That the bricks and mortar can be replaced? I know. It isn’t about that, it isn’t even about the company name or our image… it’s about what this company represents, what it stands for. When I walked out of that court room in Chicago and gave up bounty hunting all those years ago, it is because I lost faith in justice. I saw how the gears could be greased and the lofty ideals of equality before the eyes of the law was nothing more than window dressing. I know what it feels like to be sold something and then see the ugliness beneath the veneer, to realise that your hope was nothing more than an illusion.
{ Verona points around the arena. }
Roberto Verona: All of this… this is just window dressing… what truly matters is the vision I sold every single one of those people in the locker room. A wrestling promotion that is truly equal. One where women aren’t valued as lesser than men. One where it didn’t matter what your name was but about what you did between these ropes. One where anybody could succeed, a platform for those willing to believe in themselves. That is what is at stake here, that is what I am fighting to protect… yet…
{ Jess raises an eyebrow quizzically. }
Jessica Reed: Yet?
Roberto Verona: I can see the doubt in every body’s eyes. I can see that when they look at me they see a billionaire who is only desperate to protect his pocket. Even worse, I can see that others have no hope left, look around you, how many faces do you recognise? Half the staff have been replaced because those who have been here since the beginning no longer trusted us to protect them from all this. I’m hardly a believer… but they’ve lost their faith… and I am worried that it may eventually be too late to get it back.
{ Roberto sighs again, this time more heavily. }
Roberto Verona: Everybody thinks this is about whether or not the company will survive… the truth is, that’s a delusion. IWF will exist... the name, the brand… all of it… but how can I look any new talent in the eye and promise them a vision which has died right in front of them live on weekly television? How can I promise them an even playing field when they’ll have heard all the rumours through the grape vine on the independent circuit about what is going on backstage? How can I sell them hope when all I have for them is despair?
{ Verona bows his head as the pair stand side by side silently. A moment passes before slowly Jessica reaches out a hand, placing it over Verona’s as our scene fades to black. }
I’m patently aware of the pressure on my shoulders.
Every single week I am expected to walk down that ramp and perform and that doesn’t just mean to put on a good show, but to be at the top of my game. If I lose I am expected to give whoever my opponent may be the biggest challenge of their careers, to drive them to limits they didn’t believe they could reach and catapult them to stardom. If I win, I am expected to do so without even breaking a sweat, it has almost become routine at this point.
Either I dominate, or I force a once in a life time performance out of a proverbial rising star.
I don’t have the luxury of finding myself inside those ropes, I have to switch it on and give everyone what they’re expecting whether I wrestled last week or last year. For all the gravitas I may carry it comes with a burden few other men truly understand, beyond perhaps Angel or Spike Kane. When I strap on a pair of boots, I have to lead by example, I have to be the definition of greatness against which the newest crop of names may be measured, I have to set the tone for everybody else to follow.
If Roberto Verona simply doesn’t show up one week it isn’t just a footnote.
It’s a headline.
I am symbol of this company and its reputation, and the reputation of it’s employees, are defined by my ability to give everybody what they paid to see, whether that is in the ring myself or through the careful booking of my myriad of assets. I can’t afford to have “off weeks”, I can’t simply have a bad day, I have to be at my peak day in day out, or else question begin to be asked. I have to not only fulfil expectations, but surpass them…
Yet in all of this, people forget one very simple thing.
Anything can happen inside those ropes.
The margins are far closer than people are willing to admit, the gulf in class between me and even you Gilmore isn’t quite as gargantuan as people want to portray. Certainly not with regards to what we can do inside that ring. If we boiled everything down to pure technical ability people would be surprised by how little there is between a man like you and a man like me. Each and every one of has trained years to perfect our ability inside that ring.
If that was the only metric involved, things would be far closer than they are.
There’s a reason why when I was sat in the back alongside Cable Arcane watching your previous matches, James, that neither one of us even so much as raised an eyebrow when you accomplished victories over people that everyone else assumed you had little to no chance of picking up points over. It’s because we understand that the only thing that truly divides us isn’t what we can do with our bodies, but what we do with our minds.
Anybody who thinks James Gilmore isn’t every bit as talented as anybody else inside those ropes in this company simply doesn’t understand how this business works.
Matches aren’t decided by who can apply the smoothest drop toe hold or the most vicious back breaker, it’s decided by those who know when to deploy them. All it takes is a simple lapse in concentration or a poorly judged clothesline and a James Gilmore is more than capable of dispatching a Dean Harper or a Jayson Matthews, if he capitalises on it. And credit where it is due, Gilmore, after months of crippling disappointment you finally managed to apply yourself and pick up some notable victories.
Victories which put you on par with me. At least as far as the point tallies are concerned.
I’m happy for you, Gilmore. You can pick your jaw up off the floor at your own leisure but despite what everybody thinks, I have only ever wanted the best for the talents I employ. If you buy into the idea that I invest in people, even like you, merely for you to fail on a weekly basis then you’re grossly misinformed.
I don’t put my reputation on the line on a whim.
You could simply believe that the only reason I hired you was because Messrs Gaither and McFly were quite insistent that you were worth the investment, perhaps it was a favour or maybe I even lost a bet, but beneath all of the dirt sheet conspiracies a simple truth remains. I hired you, Gilmore, because I saw something in you that I felt could be honed into a viable asset.
Nothing more, nothing less.
You’re no different to the other unpolished diamonds I’ve unearthed during my tenure at the head of this company, though it is pertinent to remember that very little separates you from the lumps of coal either. If your signature is etched on an IWF contract that is an endorsement of my belief in you, whether you fulfil that belief is contingent on a number of factors but the responsibility for your success is always in the hands of one person, and one person only.
Yourself.
All I do, once the ink is dry, is provide you the platform. It’s up to you to define how you will be remembered, all the fancy video packages and montages are merely a by-product of your own endeavour. The very fact that the media production team will be playing a video highlighting your recent victories and selling you in a positive light, James, it because you finally made good on some of the potential that I bought into.
Which is why I won’t be making the mistake of underestimating you this Sunday.
It would be easy for me to stand here and simply dismiss you as a minor nuisance masquerading as a potential threat. I could simply go through a laundry list of complete cock ups you’ve made and make a mockery of the myriad of bizarre outbursts you’ve forced everyone around you to endure. Hell, I could even just stand here and do a point by point comparison of our achievements before verbally eviscerating you for making some sort of social media faux pas, after all, that is the story of our entire collective history thus far.
Yet… this fight is different.
I’m not just stepping out from behind that curtain to beat a valuable lesson into you this week, instead I am stepping out there to see just how much you’ve learned from them. We’re not facing off inside that squared circle because you said something utterly inane, we’re facing off for valuable points in the Heir to the Throne and an opportunity to cement our places in the elimination rounds. This isn’t an inconsequential humbling any more, James, it’s far more serious than that.
Which is why I am able to confidently stand in front of this camera, look you square in the eyes and tell you that I have absolutely every faith in myself to come out victorious this weekend.
I’ve given you your dues, James, and well earned they are too but this weekend you’re not stepping inside the ring with men who are still honing their craft, you’re stepping inside that ring with somebody who has perfected his. The reason I have all these expectations upon my shoulders Gilmore is not just because it’s my name etched in gold plate and screwed to the head office of this company but because of the journey I took to pay for every single brick, from the foundations upwards.
I have proved to the world that I have everything that is required to have those expectations placed upon me, the stark reality is that you have far too many unanswered questions left to find explanations for.
Explanations you’re now expected to provide.
For the first time in your entire career people are now looking at you and instead of seeing a perennial loser, they’re seeing a man who has made a number of bold statements. Yet that is all they are, James, statements. Small blips on a collective psyche that has previously written you off at every turn, if you want to start making waves you need to demonstrate you’re capable of registering more than a passing interest.
Every week you have been able to walk to that ring a complete underdog, nobody has ever expected more from you than to simply show up, lay on your back and take a pounding from better men. You’ve spent your entire career been the punchline to everybody else’s joke and whilst I remain the clear favourite this week you can’t rely on people expecting nothing from you anymore.
You need to demonstrate, win or lose, that your recent renaissance isn’t just a fluke. I don’t give a damn what you come out with this week or the next, the only talking I care about is the talking you do inside that ring, week in, week out.
That is how men like me went from opening up shows headlined by complete jokes in bingo halls to being the biggest names in professional wrestling and filling huge arenas. It was never by merely turning up and winning, James, those who merely place stock in their ability to rack up a number of victories in matches where the margins are miniscule always inevitably get found out when they come up against somebody wily enough to exploit their own errors.
Every single icon in this business created their legacies because they demonstrated their ability to answer all the questions that were asked of them.
It’s a fallacy to assume that everything just landed in our laps, the reality is that we had to face the same adversities as every single one of you, the only difference is that when we stepped up the plate and failed we regrouped, learned from our mistakes and proved to the world that we weren’t just flavours of the month.
If the only lesson you’ve learned from a few victories is the ability to puff your chest out and claim yourself capable with the benefit of a little more statistical advantage, then you’ve learned nothing. Anybody can win a few matches, Gilmore, but now you have a few more questions to answer.
Can James Gilmore capitalise on that momentum and secure an even bigger scalp from a Hall of Famer? Even if he can’t achieve a victory can James Gilmore show enough in defeat and push Roberto Verona to the limit and make him really work for that victory? Even more importantly… how will James Gilmore respond if he fails?
The final question is perhaps the most important of all.
The best of us always have an answer. If you beat me this week, James, I will dust myself down, take pride that you’ve finally stepped up the plate, ignore the inevitable jokes at my expense and continue my mission to save this company from the forces which look to consume it for the benefit of men like you. I will learn from whatever mistake it is I make to provide you that opening to ensure that when the pressure is on next time, I don’t make it again.
But what will you do?
Will you slink off back to your Twitter account and engage in yet another gimmick change in a desperate attempt to remove the stench of failure that lingers around you?
Will you just brush it off as what happens when you step in the ring with somebody of my calibre?
Or will you learn how men like me take those fine margins in technical ability and apply everything we have learned from this business with our raw determination and guile to make sure that the next time you step in the ring with me it will be your hand getting raised?
It’s time we found out what you’re truly made of.
Heir to the Throne.
Or merely a pretender.
Every single week I am expected to walk down that ramp and perform and that doesn’t just mean to put on a good show, but to be at the top of my game. If I lose I am expected to give whoever my opponent may be the biggest challenge of their careers, to drive them to limits they didn’t believe they could reach and catapult them to stardom. If I win, I am expected to do so without even breaking a sweat, it has almost become routine at this point.
Either I dominate, or I force a once in a life time performance out of a proverbial rising star.
I don’t have the luxury of finding myself inside those ropes, I have to switch it on and give everyone what they’re expecting whether I wrestled last week or last year. For all the gravitas I may carry it comes with a burden few other men truly understand, beyond perhaps Angel or Spike Kane. When I strap on a pair of boots, I have to lead by example, I have to be the definition of greatness against which the newest crop of names may be measured, I have to set the tone for everybody else to follow.
If Roberto Verona simply doesn’t show up one week it isn’t just a footnote.
It’s a headline.
I am symbol of this company and its reputation, and the reputation of it’s employees, are defined by my ability to give everybody what they paid to see, whether that is in the ring myself or through the careful booking of my myriad of assets. I can’t afford to have “off weeks”, I can’t simply have a bad day, I have to be at my peak day in day out, or else question begin to be asked. I have to not only fulfil expectations, but surpass them…
Yet in all of this, people forget one very simple thing.
Anything can happen inside those ropes.
The margins are far closer than people are willing to admit, the gulf in class between me and even you Gilmore isn’t quite as gargantuan as people want to portray. Certainly not with regards to what we can do inside that ring. If we boiled everything down to pure technical ability people would be surprised by how little there is between a man like you and a man like me. Each and every one of has trained years to perfect our ability inside that ring.
If that was the only metric involved, things would be far closer than they are.
There’s a reason why when I was sat in the back alongside Cable Arcane watching your previous matches, James, that neither one of us even so much as raised an eyebrow when you accomplished victories over people that everyone else assumed you had little to no chance of picking up points over. It’s because we understand that the only thing that truly divides us isn’t what we can do with our bodies, but what we do with our minds.
Anybody who thinks James Gilmore isn’t every bit as talented as anybody else inside those ropes in this company simply doesn’t understand how this business works.
Matches aren’t decided by who can apply the smoothest drop toe hold or the most vicious back breaker, it’s decided by those who know when to deploy them. All it takes is a simple lapse in concentration or a poorly judged clothesline and a James Gilmore is more than capable of dispatching a Dean Harper or a Jayson Matthews, if he capitalises on it. And credit where it is due, Gilmore, after months of crippling disappointment you finally managed to apply yourself and pick up some notable victories.
Victories which put you on par with me. At least as far as the point tallies are concerned.
I’m happy for you, Gilmore. You can pick your jaw up off the floor at your own leisure but despite what everybody thinks, I have only ever wanted the best for the talents I employ. If you buy into the idea that I invest in people, even like you, merely for you to fail on a weekly basis then you’re grossly misinformed.
I don’t put my reputation on the line on a whim.
You could simply believe that the only reason I hired you was because Messrs Gaither and McFly were quite insistent that you were worth the investment, perhaps it was a favour or maybe I even lost a bet, but beneath all of the dirt sheet conspiracies a simple truth remains. I hired you, Gilmore, because I saw something in you that I felt could be honed into a viable asset.
Nothing more, nothing less.
You’re no different to the other unpolished diamonds I’ve unearthed during my tenure at the head of this company, though it is pertinent to remember that very little separates you from the lumps of coal either. If your signature is etched on an IWF contract that is an endorsement of my belief in you, whether you fulfil that belief is contingent on a number of factors but the responsibility for your success is always in the hands of one person, and one person only.
Yourself.
All I do, once the ink is dry, is provide you the platform. It’s up to you to define how you will be remembered, all the fancy video packages and montages are merely a by-product of your own endeavour. The very fact that the media production team will be playing a video highlighting your recent victories and selling you in a positive light, James, it because you finally made good on some of the potential that I bought into.
Which is why I won’t be making the mistake of underestimating you this Sunday.
It would be easy for me to stand here and simply dismiss you as a minor nuisance masquerading as a potential threat. I could simply go through a laundry list of complete cock ups you’ve made and make a mockery of the myriad of bizarre outbursts you’ve forced everyone around you to endure. Hell, I could even just stand here and do a point by point comparison of our achievements before verbally eviscerating you for making some sort of social media faux pas, after all, that is the story of our entire collective history thus far.
Yet… this fight is different.
I’m not just stepping out from behind that curtain to beat a valuable lesson into you this week, instead I am stepping out there to see just how much you’ve learned from them. We’re not facing off inside that squared circle because you said something utterly inane, we’re facing off for valuable points in the Heir to the Throne and an opportunity to cement our places in the elimination rounds. This isn’t an inconsequential humbling any more, James, it’s far more serious than that.
Which is why I am able to confidently stand in front of this camera, look you square in the eyes and tell you that I have absolutely every faith in myself to come out victorious this weekend.
I’ve given you your dues, James, and well earned they are too but this weekend you’re not stepping inside the ring with men who are still honing their craft, you’re stepping inside that ring with somebody who has perfected his. The reason I have all these expectations upon my shoulders Gilmore is not just because it’s my name etched in gold plate and screwed to the head office of this company but because of the journey I took to pay for every single brick, from the foundations upwards.
I have proved to the world that I have everything that is required to have those expectations placed upon me, the stark reality is that you have far too many unanswered questions left to find explanations for.
Explanations you’re now expected to provide.
For the first time in your entire career people are now looking at you and instead of seeing a perennial loser, they’re seeing a man who has made a number of bold statements. Yet that is all they are, James, statements. Small blips on a collective psyche that has previously written you off at every turn, if you want to start making waves you need to demonstrate you’re capable of registering more than a passing interest.
Every week you have been able to walk to that ring a complete underdog, nobody has ever expected more from you than to simply show up, lay on your back and take a pounding from better men. You’ve spent your entire career been the punchline to everybody else’s joke and whilst I remain the clear favourite this week you can’t rely on people expecting nothing from you anymore.
You need to demonstrate, win or lose, that your recent renaissance isn’t just a fluke. I don’t give a damn what you come out with this week or the next, the only talking I care about is the talking you do inside that ring, week in, week out.
That is how men like me went from opening up shows headlined by complete jokes in bingo halls to being the biggest names in professional wrestling and filling huge arenas. It was never by merely turning up and winning, James, those who merely place stock in their ability to rack up a number of victories in matches where the margins are miniscule always inevitably get found out when they come up against somebody wily enough to exploit their own errors.
Every single icon in this business created their legacies because they demonstrated their ability to answer all the questions that were asked of them.
It’s a fallacy to assume that everything just landed in our laps, the reality is that we had to face the same adversities as every single one of you, the only difference is that when we stepped up the plate and failed we regrouped, learned from our mistakes and proved to the world that we weren’t just flavours of the month.
If the only lesson you’ve learned from a few victories is the ability to puff your chest out and claim yourself capable with the benefit of a little more statistical advantage, then you’ve learned nothing. Anybody can win a few matches, Gilmore, but now you have a few more questions to answer.
Can James Gilmore capitalise on that momentum and secure an even bigger scalp from a Hall of Famer? Even if he can’t achieve a victory can James Gilmore show enough in defeat and push Roberto Verona to the limit and make him really work for that victory? Even more importantly… how will James Gilmore respond if he fails?
The final question is perhaps the most important of all.
The best of us always have an answer. If you beat me this week, James, I will dust myself down, take pride that you’ve finally stepped up the plate, ignore the inevitable jokes at my expense and continue my mission to save this company from the forces which look to consume it for the benefit of men like you. I will learn from whatever mistake it is I make to provide you that opening to ensure that when the pressure is on next time, I don’t make it again.
But what will you do?
Will you slink off back to your Twitter account and engage in yet another gimmick change in a desperate attempt to remove the stench of failure that lingers around you?
Will you just brush it off as what happens when you step in the ring with somebody of my calibre?
Or will you learn how men like me take those fine margins in technical ability and apply everything we have learned from this business with our raw determination and guile to make sure that the next time you step in the ring with me it will be your hand getting raised?
It’s time we found out what you’re truly made of.
Heir to the Throne.
Or merely a pretender.
Well howdy there pardner.