Post by Jake Keeton on May 25, 2013 6:01:09 GMT
Who is Jake Keeton? Well, that all depends on who you ask. If you asked the average nCw fan or 90% of the former roster members who never ventured outside nCw during its storied history I’m just a guy that made a few lackluster appearances there and lost more than he won. If you ask real wrestling fans who believe there was more than one major U.S promotion or guys like Brad Kane, Cable Arcane, Spike Kane, Joe Everyman, and Rob Diamond all of which I’ve been in the ring with you’ll probably get a variety of answers but I guarantee the consensus is that I’m a tough son of a bitch that comes to fight every single time and will never ever back down.
I understand that most of the IWF locker room is in mourning over the closure of nCw and see IWF as nothing more than a continuation of nCw with a new name. I see it as anything but, I see it as a new beginning, I see it as a chance to prove anyone who is basing their opinion of me solely on what they saw of me in nCw dead fuckin’ wrong. I didn’t come here to relive my past glory in other promotions or to chase down some old rival because of unfinished business, I came here to do what I do better than any other person walking this planet… wrestle.
Monday night on the debut episode of Sacrifice I’ll be locked inside a cage with three other men, with the goal being to escape the cage before anyone else. Now I’ll admit this will only be my second match of 2013, which normally would have me a little bit nervous, but then I looked and saw the names listed across from mine and legitimately did a spit take cause this is gonna be a walk in the park. I was genuinely offended at the lack of talent that the IWF brass were sticking me in the ring with but then I realized they simply wanted to showcase the man who will be the face of the promotion. I could wrestle a broomstick and make it look better than Joe Everyman so I’m sure I can make these three turds look like gold.
I’m only familiar with one of the sacrificial lambs so I’ll start with him. Freakke, we’ve never been in the ring together although we both worked for Revolution Pro Wrestling. I was the first World Champion, held the belt twice during the 6 months the company ran and was the poster boy for RPW. You were…the exact opposite. You were a joke and looked at by every member of the roster as an easy win. In fact, in my bitter rivalry with Matt Wilkins, Matt and I were to choose our opponents the week before our big matchup. While Matt chose the toughest possible opponent for me, I chose you Freakke because I wanted him to win and I wanted him to win easily because then he would have nothing to complain about when I beat his ass the next week which is exactly what I did. I’m aware that you held multiple titles in nCw, but I can’t for the life of me understand how unless it was a different guy under that face paint than the worthless sack of shit that I’m aware of. In my opinion you’re less of a factor than either of the other guys in this match and I’m going to walk right through you.
Next up is the ever so Mediocre, Mike Machado. Mike you’re a failure at life but you’ve succeeded at one thing and that’s making me laugh. That’s something to be commended for because I’m generally an asshole that doesn’t like my wrestling mixed with laughter. I don’t care if you ever win a match in IWF, which you certainly won’t this week, but I hope they keep you around for a long time cause I’m an uptight prick who could use a good laugh every once in a while. Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way, I’m gonna make you shit your pants Mikey. See I like the logic you used in trying to figure out your chances of winning this match but I can tell you with 100% certainty that you have 0% chance of winning because while you may be used to running for your life, you can’t run if you’re unconscious. You’re assuming that because you’ve spent your entire career running away from people that you’re gonna have a speed advantage but not only am I the best wrestler alive, I can promise you that I’m the fastest man you’ve ever been in the ring with and I won’t have one problem catching you. Once I do, I’m gonna suplex you clean out of your boots and leave you exactly how you probably fall asleep every night, curled up in the fetal position whimpering like a small child.
Last but not least is the unknown variable, John Rherring. John, I began my career wearing a mask just like you. I wasn’t trying to be mysterious, and had nothing to hide. I was 19 years old and masked wrestlers were really popular at that time. I was really over at the flea markets and Army Depots I was wrestling at but then one day I realized if I was ever going to make it to a show where the other wrestlers actually had real wrestling gear instead of jeans and tennis shoes and there were more than 25 people in the crowd I needed to be myself. I took the mask off because I wanted my victims to remember the face of the man who was about to put their lights out and add another loss to their record. I don’t care what you’re hiding John, in fact I don’t care about you at all. I’m going to beat you. You’re just another name on the roster that doesn’t stand out and doesn’t intimidate me in the least. I’m sure they’ll be people on the edge of their seats in anticipation of what your secrets are but I’m not buying what you’re selling. By the time you reveal anything I’ll be well beyond competing against the likes of you and I’ll be walking around with another shiny gold belt securely around my waist. Which one is a topic for another day, I’ll have’em all at one point or another though.
I opened with a question and hopefully by now you can form your own opinion. I’m sure Freakke, Machado, and Rherring will be able to answer it after Monday night without hesitation. Who am I?
I’m Jake Keeton and I’m a wrestler. It’s all I’ve ever been and all I’ll ever be.
Hollywood. It’s not as glamorous as you think. Most of the celebrities have moved and the houses are all boarded up. The scene opens to a White Chevy Cruze that’s obviously a rental car pulling up in front of one of the few places that isn’t vacant. Sitting behind the wheel of the small car is Jake Keeton, dressed in jeans, a gray Marshall Tucker Band henley t-shirt and his ever present Aviator shades. Jake pulls a wadded up piece of paper out of the pocket of his jeans and gets out of the car and looks up at the luxury condos he’s parked in front of. He walks up the stairs to the 5th floor and knocks on the front door of one of the condos and an African American man in his mid to late 30’s wearing a $3000 Armani suit answers the door with a toothy smile.
Man: Jake Keeton, my favorite client!
The man opens the door and Jake walks into the well decorated home.
Jake: I’m your only client Jules.
Julius King was one sleazy son of a bitch. His production company went under after two actors were injured on the set and he moved from production to talent management.
Julius: True, but you’re paying me enough that you’re all I need. So what brings you out here?
Jake: I’m going back to work; I got a match Monday in Chicago.
Julius: Great! I been tryin’ to find you some juicy roles out here but I don’t think you’re cut out for Hollywood, dawg. No offense.
Jake shoots him a confused look.
Jake: How does me going back to work benefit you? It means I’m no longer going to need your services.
Julius lets out a hysteric almost evil laugh.
Julius: Oh Jake, you poor dumb redneck, it’s not up to you whether or not you need my services. That contract you signed with me was for three years and didn’t say one word about me only being your agent when it comes to acting roles.
You can almost see the anger growing on the face of the multi-time World Champion.
Jake: What are you trying to say?
Julius: What I’m tryin’ to say is I own your ass, son.
Jake clinches his fists doing all he can not to strike the scum bag in front of him.
Julius: You wanna hit me?
Jake: You bet your ass I do, but I’m not going to cause I don’t want to go to jail. How can you be of any service to me if I’m wrestling? I certainly don’t need a mouth piece; I’ve always been able to talk for myself.
Julius: I’ll think of something, maybe I’ll accompany you to the ring and make sure you win your matches.
Jake: I don’t want that, or need it.
Julius: It’s not about what you want; it’s about what the King wants. Even if I don’t do one damn thing, I still get 40% of what you make for the duration of our contract and you signed it back at the end of January so your ass is stuck with me.
Jake: This is bullshit Jules, I got a family.
Julius: Oh I’ve seen that fine ass wife of yours…
Jake steps towards the slightly taller man and slides the sunglasses down on the tip of his nose.
Jake: Do you want me to murder you right here in your living room? If not I suggest you never say something like that again because I will toss you out that window.
Julius: But you know it’s true…
Jake takes another step forward and Julius stumbles backwards landing on his ass.
Jake: I ain’t fuckin’ kidding man, I’m gonna hurt you if you say one more word about my wife.
Julius just sits there, with a sinister smile.
Julius: Aight dawg, I won’t say nothing else.
Julius stands up and dusts himself off.
Julius: Look, you’re stuck with me cause you didn’t read the fine print. We can either make this a pleasant business relationship and try to be friends or you can keep on hatin’ me and I can make your life miserable. The choice is yours but either way I’m getting’ paid.
Julius extends his hand.
Jake: If you keep your mouth in check maybe we can make it work, but my family is not to know about this under any circumstances.
Julius: How you gonna explain almost half your lay checks being gone?
Jake: I’ll think of something.
Jake shakes his hand, squeezing hard and pulling him close.
Jake: Just watch what you say, I got a bit of a temper.
Julius: I can see that, I guess that’s a good thing in your line of work.
Jake lets him go.
Jake: Sometimes. Look I gotta catch a flight soon cause I wanna get home for at least a day before I head to Chicago. I’ll be in touch.
Julius: Oh you’ll hear from me before I hear from you, a good agent keeps up with his clients every move.
Jake: Great, see ya.
Julius: Oh yes you will, for a long time.
Jake exits the condo and the scene fades out as he walks back to the car.
I understand that most of the IWF locker room is in mourning over the closure of nCw and see IWF as nothing more than a continuation of nCw with a new name. I see it as anything but, I see it as a new beginning, I see it as a chance to prove anyone who is basing their opinion of me solely on what they saw of me in nCw dead fuckin’ wrong. I didn’t come here to relive my past glory in other promotions or to chase down some old rival because of unfinished business, I came here to do what I do better than any other person walking this planet… wrestle.
Monday night on the debut episode of Sacrifice I’ll be locked inside a cage with three other men, with the goal being to escape the cage before anyone else. Now I’ll admit this will only be my second match of 2013, which normally would have me a little bit nervous, but then I looked and saw the names listed across from mine and legitimately did a spit take cause this is gonna be a walk in the park. I was genuinely offended at the lack of talent that the IWF brass were sticking me in the ring with but then I realized they simply wanted to showcase the man who will be the face of the promotion. I could wrestle a broomstick and make it look better than Joe Everyman so I’m sure I can make these three turds look like gold.
I’m only familiar with one of the sacrificial lambs so I’ll start with him. Freakke, we’ve never been in the ring together although we both worked for Revolution Pro Wrestling. I was the first World Champion, held the belt twice during the 6 months the company ran and was the poster boy for RPW. You were…the exact opposite. You were a joke and looked at by every member of the roster as an easy win. In fact, in my bitter rivalry with Matt Wilkins, Matt and I were to choose our opponents the week before our big matchup. While Matt chose the toughest possible opponent for me, I chose you Freakke because I wanted him to win and I wanted him to win easily because then he would have nothing to complain about when I beat his ass the next week which is exactly what I did. I’m aware that you held multiple titles in nCw, but I can’t for the life of me understand how unless it was a different guy under that face paint than the worthless sack of shit that I’m aware of. In my opinion you’re less of a factor than either of the other guys in this match and I’m going to walk right through you.
Next up is the ever so Mediocre, Mike Machado. Mike you’re a failure at life but you’ve succeeded at one thing and that’s making me laugh. That’s something to be commended for because I’m generally an asshole that doesn’t like my wrestling mixed with laughter. I don’t care if you ever win a match in IWF, which you certainly won’t this week, but I hope they keep you around for a long time cause I’m an uptight prick who could use a good laugh every once in a while. Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way, I’m gonna make you shit your pants Mikey. See I like the logic you used in trying to figure out your chances of winning this match but I can tell you with 100% certainty that you have 0% chance of winning because while you may be used to running for your life, you can’t run if you’re unconscious. You’re assuming that because you’ve spent your entire career running away from people that you’re gonna have a speed advantage but not only am I the best wrestler alive, I can promise you that I’m the fastest man you’ve ever been in the ring with and I won’t have one problem catching you. Once I do, I’m gonna suplex you clean out of your boots and leave you exactly how you probably fall asleep every night, curled up in the fetal position whimpering like a small child.
Last but not least is the unknown variable, John Rherring. John, I began my career wearing a mask just like you. I wasn’t trying to be mysterious, and had nothing to hide. I was 19 years old and masked wrestlers were really popular at that time. I was really over at the flea markets and Army Depots I was wrestling at but then one day I realized if I was ever going to make it to a show where the other wrestlers actually had real wrestling gear instead of jeans and tennis shoes and there were more than 25 people in the crowd I needed to be myself. I took the mask off because I wanted my victims to remember the face of the man who was about to put their lights out and add another loss to their record. I don’t care what you’re hiding John, in fact I don’t care about you at all. I’m going to beat you. You’re just another name on the roster that doesn’t stand out and doesn’t intimidate me in the least. I’m sure they’ll be people on the edge of their seats in anticipation of what your secrets are but I’m not buying what you’re selling. By the time you reveal anything I’ll be well beyond competing against the likes of you and I’ll be walking around with another shiny gold belt securely around my waist. Which one is a topic for another day, I’ll have’em all at one point or another though.
I opened with a question and hopefully by now you can form your own opinion. I’m sure Freakke, Machado, and Rherring will be able to answer it after Monday night without hesitation. Who am I?
I’m Jake Keeton and I’m a wrestler. It’s all I’ve ever been and all I’ll ever be.
Hollywood. It’s not as glamorous as you think. Most of the celebrities have moved and the houses are all boarded up. The scene opens to a White Chevy Cruze that’s obviously a rental car pulling up in front of one of the few places that isn’t vacant. Sitting behind the wheel of the small car is Jake Keeton, dressed in jeans, a gray Marshall Tucker Band henley t-shirt and his ever present Aviator shades. Jake pulls a wadded up piece of paper out of the pocket of his jeans and gets out of the car and looks up at the luxury condos he’s parked in front of. He walks up the stairs to the 5th floor and knocks on the front door of one of the condos and an African American man in his mid to late 30’s wearing a $3000 Armani suit answers the door with a toothy smile.
Man: Jake Keeton, my favorite client!
The man opens the door and Jake walks into the well decorated home.
Jake: I’m your only client Jules.
Julius King was one sleazy son of a bitch. His production company went under after two actors were injured on the set and he moved from production to talent management.
Julius: True, but you’re paying me enough that you’re all I need. So what brings you out here?
Jake: I’m going back to work; I got a match Monday in Chicago.
Julius: Great! I been tryin’ to find you some juicy roles out here but I don’t think you’re cut out for Hollywood, dawg. No offense.
Jake shoots him a confused look.
Jake: How does me going back to work benefit you? It means I’m no longer going to need your services.
Julius lets out a hysteric almost evil laugh.
Julius: Oh Jake, you poor dumb redneck, it’s not up to you whether or not you need my services. That contract you signed with me was for three years and didn’t say one word about me only being your agent when it comes to acting roles.
You can almost see the anger growing on the face of the multi-time World Champion.
Jake: What are you trying to say?
Julius: What I’m tryin’ to say is I own your ass, son.
Jake clinches his fists doing all he can not to strike the scum bag in front of him.
Julius: You wanna hit me?
Jake: You bet your ass I do, but I’m not going to cause I don’t want to go to jail. How can you be of any service to me if I’m wrestling? I certainly don’t need a mouth piece; I’ve always been able to talk for myself.
Julius: I’ll think of something, maybe I’ll accompany you to the ring and make sure you win your matches.
Jake: I don’t want that, or need it.
Julius: It’s not about what you want; it’s about what the King wants. Even if I don’t do one damn thing, I still get 40% of what you make for the duration of our contract and you signed it back at the end of January so your ass is stuck with me.
Jake: This is bullshit Jules, I got a family.
Julius: Oh I’ve seen that fine ass wife of yours…
Jake steps towards the slightly taller man and slides the sunglasses down on the tip of his nose.
Jake: Do you want me to murder you right here in your living room? If not I suggest you never say something like that again because I will toss you out that window.
Julius: But you know it’s true…
Jake takes another step forward and Julius stumbles backwards landing on his ass.
Jake: I ain’t fuckin’ kidding man, I’m gonna hurt you if you say one more word about my wife.
Julius just sits there, with a sinister smile.
Julius: Aight dawg, I won’t say nothing else.
Julius stands up and dusts himself off.
Julius: Look, you’re stuck with me cause you didn’t read the fine print. We can either make this a pleasant business relationship and try to be friends or you can keep on hatin’ me and I can make your life miserable. The choice is yours but either way I’m getting’ paid.
Julius extends his hand.
Jake: If you keep your mouth in check maybe we can make it work, but my family is not to know about this under any circumstances.
Julius: How you gonna explain almost half your lay checks being gone?
Jake: I’ll think of something.
Jake shakes his hand, squeezing hard and pulling him close.
Jake: Just watch what you say, I got a bit of a temper.
Julius: I can see that, I guess that’s a good thing in your line of work.
Jake lets him go.
Jake: Sometimes. Look I gotta catch a flight soon cause I wanna get home for at least a day before I head to Chicago. I’ll be in touch.
Julius: Oh you’ll hear from me before I hear from you, a good agent keeps up with his clients every move.
Jake: Great, see ya.
Julius: Oh yes you will, for a long time.
Jake exits the condo and the scene fades out as he walks back to the car.
Well howdy there pardner.