Post by Mike Laszlo on Jun 15, 2013 15:58:30 GMT
As I watched the promos for this week’s Heavyweight Title match at Bloody Assizes, I was a little let down by the fact that nobody seems to be in their right mind this weekend.
Everyone is talking a good game, don’t get me wrong…well everyone accept Seth Evans.
That boy has his thoughts so twisted, and his truths so halved that his diatribe became nothing more than the ramblings of a fool whose only direction will be straight down.
This Sunday on Pay Per View is a time of celebration. It is the quintessential step to putting NCW to rest in the annals of time where it becomes nothing more than memories.
I could boast how I held two titles simultaneously, I don’t.
I could boast how I held those two titles longer than anyone ever, I don’t.
That’s not what this Sunday is about.
Bloody Assizes is the official stamp on the IWF. It means that this company is here. It means that this company has made it to the promise land for a wrestling promotion. It means that the IWF is indeed for real.
So why dwell on the past?
Why for the last few weeks, does everyone who has come up against me mention the fact that I lost three opportunities to the NCW World Title?
Who cares?
Facts are facts, but this isn’t there. By the way, just to set the record straight for those of you too stupid to look it up on this fancy new concept called the Internet, no name mentioned SETH EVANS, but I won the second match between the COO of this company and myself, but whatever.
The lack of understanding confounds me to believe that some of you are nothing more than Neanderthals dragging your knuckles on the ground in an attempt to make yourselves look like more, when in fact you may even be less than that.
To hear the words you speak, all of you, disappoints me.
The fact that you all can hear something but not understand it, disappoints me.
You hear the things I say and you misrepresent them in your own mind to make your own point because let’s face it you’re too unoriginal to simply come up with something on your own. You can’t wake up one morning and flip the switch on to activate the brain cells that swish around in the empty space that is your heads.
I don’t want you to misunderstand this so I will make it as plain and simple for you all as I can.
There is no disrespecting the abilities of the people who perform in this company, even that of Seth Evans. As a performer, you are all the best of the best; otherwise you would not survive in this company. You would not be competing this Sunday on a grand marquis Pay Per View; and for the other men involved in the Heavyweight Title match, you SURE AS HELL would not be competing against me for the Heavyweight Title in a Scramble Match.
We can all say we’re better than the other, and in some cases, like mine, that may absolutely be the case, but the fact is that we go out there; we put on a show, and this Sunday, representing the Heavyweight Division, we STEAL THE SHOW!
That is the goal. We aren’t wrestling this Sunday simply to prove that we are the best, we are wrestling to prove that our division is THE BEST and whoever wins, me, is the best OF THE BEST!
The fifteen pounds of gold strapped to a leather belt is just that, a belt. Its meaning however, the symbolization that is possesses is so much more. It is a representation of this company. It is the crown jewel that so many wish to obtain. It is what I strive for. It means that you are, as long as you hold it, the best that the company has to offer within those ranks. It proves for me, that I am what I have always said I am, better than the rest.
Right now I tell you this. Sunday night at Bloody Assizes, I SHOW YOU THIS!
====================
Title: Don’t Get It Twisted
Location: Cleveland, Ohio
Time: 11:08 PM Local Time
The sun was out, the birds were chirping, flowers were colorful, and rabbits pounced through a bit of grass. All that was wonderful, but where we were was dark; dimly lit by a swinging overhead light. The pounding of metal weights, one on top of the other in repetition echoed throughout the hollow halls. Where others were enjoying the summer day, we were training. Side by side with Alexis, the two of us worked away on sets of weight lifting, mine considerably more than hers due to her slight frame, but she was certainly working away at it. She was doing it to get better, as was I, but I was also doing it in preparation. We had been here for almost three hours, working our asses off, doing our best to be in that much better shape. She wanted to get out as did I, but we couldn’t.
Normally I would just go, but I wanted to show her dedication. I wanted to show her that things weren’t just glitz and glamor. I wanted to show her the sacrifice required to do what I do.
Alexis Caffrey: How much longer are we going to be here?
Mike Laszlo: Until we go.
Alexis Caffrey: Babe, it’s a gorgeous day outside and we’re wasting it away in here. We’ve been here for the better part of three hours.
Mike Laszlo: You wanted this not me. This is what I do. This is how I prepare for something as big as the Heavyweight Scramble Sunday.
Alexis Caffrey: I understand that, and trust me, I do want it. I want it really bad.
Mike Laszlo: Then these are the sacrifices made. Do you think I want to be here? I’d much rather be relaxing in the pool with you and Britney, but this is what needs to be done. I’m better than every person I walk into that ring with tomorrow night, but only if I’m focused and in peak, optimum, condition.
I knew she understood. She wasn’t an idiot. I could also tell that the training was getting to her. Sweat glistened her gorgeous body at every visible part, and she was sucking down water like there was no tomorrow. As I finished the last Military Press, I hung the weights back over my shoulders with the help of a spotter from the gym and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, letting my hands dangle between. Sweat dripped down from my forehead, splashing off the cement floor as I took in a few breaths and swallowed a swig of my Lemonade Gatorade. I looked over at her, and despite the fatigue, despite the want to be somewhere else, she had started another set of reps. It made me proud that she understood what it took, and that she wanted it. A smile cracked my face, but she didn’t notice as she was gritting her teeth for what would be her final lift. I stood up from my seat and helped her place the bar behind her. The last lift was a struggle as I’m sure her arms felt like Jello. I motioned the spotters away as she took a chug of water. I helped her up from her seat and looked into her eyes. She had understood everything I said, but she really did want to go.
Mike Laszlo: I’m proud of you.
Alexis Caffrey: Why?
Mike Laszlo: You absorbed that. You made the sacrifice and you pushed on. So now, we can go.
Alexis Caffrey: Really?
Mike Laszlo: Yeah. Come on.
We started walking toward our bags, each of us picking them up off the bench and slinging them over our shoulders. She looked at me with a grin as she understood what was happening.
Alexis Caffrey: I get it.
Mike Laszlo: Get what?
Alexis Caffrey: What this was all about.
Mike Laszlo: Good. You get that my business, despite what it may seem, isn’t all glitz and glamor. There’s hard work and sacrifice put in on a daily occurrence. You realize that the term, blood, sweat, and tears isn’t just a cliché.
Alexis Caffrey: Yup.
Mike Laszlo: Good. Now don’t get me wrong, there’s perks to this job that go beyond anything you’ve ever experienced. You get to travel the world and do what many seldom even get a taste of doing. Sure there’s risk, but overall…I wouldn’t change a damn thing.
With what seemed like the last of her remaining physical strength she pushed herself up on her tip toes and gave me a kiss.
Alexis Caffrey: I love you. I wouldn’t change a thing about you either.
Mike Laszlo: I love you too, and the feeling is certainly mutual.
The two of us smiled at one another as I draped my good arm over her shoulder, pulling her in as we walked out the door into that bright, sunshiny day that I explained earlier.
====================
What I talked about before, the whole not disrespecting the abilities spiel, I wasn’t lying a single bit. All of that is true. The person though, that’s completely different.
The person behind the abilities is what makes the “superstar” in this business. That’s where I can disrespect you all I want, and you can do nothing but listen to it. I can take the names of the four men and dissect the character of each, dragging some though the mud while respecting the others, only to knock them down a peg or two because that’s what I do, and do well.
You can sit there with misguided half-truths, and you can ramble on about what you think is best, but it is all meaningless to me in the grand scheme of things. Again, and this time in the case of Andrew Jacobsen, you misconstrue what it is I’m trying to get across.
There’s a difference between not respecting and not caring. I respect the opinions of each and every person alive, either in that locker room or sitting in those seats of the arena. Every single person in the world is entitled to their opinion. That’s why you as a competitor can disagree with me. That’s why the people as fans get to boo or cheer me depending on their taste. This though is where I tell it like it is. I don’t have to care about it, and I don’t.
At the end of the day, when I lay in my bed next to my girlfriend, I don’t think of the boos or the cheers. I don’t lay there and stare at my ceiling thinking of the opinions you spew about me, because they really don’t matter.
To use the old saying: “An opinion is like an asshole, everybody has one.”
To listen to your opinions, and the opinions of anyone else; to subject myself to that; to bend myself to your wills would be uncharacteristic, and that’s not what I’m about.
I don’t go out to the ring and try to impress you. I don’t pass through that curtain and do what “THEY” want me to do. I walk down that ramp and I do what I want to do. I prove my superiority. That is why the opinions don’t matter, because they have no effect on me.
Wrestling is very contradictory. There’s the good, the bad, and the in between, or as we call them, “tweeners”. I relish the fact that I don’t fit the mold that this type of society has portrayed upon us. I am not good, I am not bad, I just am.
Media portrays us as wrestlers to be the villain, to be the hero, to be the role model. I will flat out deny any of it because I am none of those three. I don’t ask the parents of this world to look upon me as something they want their children to become, because that doesn’t fit my mold. If they allow their kids to do as I do, and speak as I speak, that’s on them. The only thing that does is make their child seem intelligent.
The difference between the four other men in this match and myself is that while opinion may sway them one way or another, and media may guide others to feel one way or another about them, none of it applies to me. Opinions don’t change the direction to my objective. I do what I want, anytime I want.
You can like it if you want to.
You can respect it, if you want to.
You can despise it…if you want to.
It makes no difference to me because I’m going to do it anyway.
It doesn’t matter if my actions create enemies. It doesn’t matter if it makes people love or hate me. All that matters is that my actions allow me to succeed my goal.
My goal this Sunday is to become the Heavyweight Champion of this World, and there’s not a damn thing on this or any other planet that’s going to stop me.
Everyone is talking a good game, don’t get me wrong…well everyone accept Seth Evans.
That boy has his thoughts so twisted, and his truths so halved that his diatribe became nothing more than the ramblings of a fool whose only direction will be straight down.
This Sunday on Pay Per View is a time of celebration. It is the quintessential step to putting NCW to rest in the annals of time where it becomes nothing more than memories.
I could boast how I held two titles simultaneously, I don’t.
I could boast how I held those two titles longer than anyone ever, I don’t.
That’s not what this Sunday is about.
Bloody Assizes is the official stamp on the IWF. It means that this company is here. It means that this company has made it to the promise land for a wrestling promotion. It means that the IWF is indeed for real.
So why dwell on the past?
Why for the last few weeks, does everyone who has come up against me mention the fact that I lost three opportunities to the NCW World Title?
Who cares?
Facts are facts, but this isn’t there. By the way, just to set the record straight for those of you too stupid to look it up on this fancy new concept called the Internet, no name mentioned SETH EVANS, but I won the second match between the COO of this company and myself, but whatever.
The lack of understanding confounds me to believe that some of you are nothing more than Neanderthals dragging your knuckles on the ground in an attempt to make yourselves look like more, when in fact you may even be less than that.
To hear the words you speak, all of you, disappoints me.
The fact that you all can hear something but not understand it, disappoints me.
You hear the things I say and you misrepresent them in your own mind to make your own point because let’s face it you’re too unoriginal to simply come up with something on your own. You can’t wake up one morning and flip the switch on to activate the brain cells that swish around in the empty space that is your heads.
I don’t want you to misunderstand this so I will make it as plain and simple for you all as I can.
There is no disrespecting the abilities of the people who perform in this company, even that of Seth Evans. As a performer, you are all the best of the best; otherwise you would not survive in this company. You would not be competing this Sunday on a grand marquis Pay Per View; and for the other men involved in the Heavyweight Title match, you SURE AS HELL would not be competing against me for the Heavyweight Title in a Scramble Match.
We can all say we’re better than the other, and in some cases, like mine, that may absolutely be the case, but the fact is that we go out there; we put on a show, and this Sunday, representing the Heavyweight Division, we STEAL THE SHOW!
That is the goal. We aren’t wrestling this Sunday simply to prove that we are the best, we are wrestling to prove that our division is THE BEST and whoever wins, me, is the best OF THE BEST!
The fifteen pounds of gold strapped to a leather belt is just that, a belt. Its meaning however, the symbolization that is possesses is so much more. It is a representation of this company. It is the crown jewel that so many wish to obtain. It is what I strive for. It means that you are, as long as you hold it, the best that the company has to offer within those ranks. It proves for me, that I am what I have always said I am, better than the rest.
Right now I tell you this. Sunday night at Bloody Assizes, I SHOW YOU THIS!
====================
Title: Don’t Get It Twisted
Location: Cleveland, Ohio
Time: 11:08 PM Local Time
The sun was out, the birds were chirping, flowers were colorful, and rabbits pounced through a bit of grass. All that was wonderful, but where we were was dark; dimly lit by a swinging overhead light. The pounding of metal weights, one on top of the other in repetition echoed throughout the hollow halls. Where others were enjoying the summer day, we were training. Side by side with Alexis, the two of us worked away on sets of weight lifting, mine considerably more than hers due to her slight frame, but she was certainly working away at it. She was doing it to get better, as was I, but I was also doing it in preparation. We had been here for almost three hours, working our asses off, doing our best to be in that much better shape. She wanted to get out as did I, but we couldn’t.
Normally I would just go, but I wanted to show her dedication. I wanted to show her that things weren’t just glitz and glamor. I wanted to show her the sacrifice required to do what I do.
Alexis Caffrey: How much longer are we going to be here?
Mike Laszlo: Until we go.
Alexis Caffrey: Babe, it’s a gorgeous day outside and we’re wasting it away in here. We’ve been here for the better part of three hours.
Mike Laszlo: You wanted this not me. This is what I do. This is how I prepare for something as big as the Heavyweight Scramble Sunday.
Alexis Caffrey: I understand that, and trust me, I do want it. I want it really bad.
Mike Laszlo: Then these are the sacrifices made. Do you think I want to be here? I’d much rather be relaxing in the pool with you and Britney, but this is what needs to be done. I’m better than every person I walk into that ring with tomorrow night, but only if I’m focused and in peak, optimum, condition.
I knew she understood. She wasn’t an idiot. I could also tell that the training was getting to her. Sweat glistened her gorgeous body at every visible part, and she was sucking down water like there was no tomorrow. As I finished the last Military Press, I hung the weights back over my shoulders with the help of a spotter from the gym and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, letting my hands dangle between. Sweat dripped down from my forehead, splashing off the cement floor as I took in a few breaths and swallowed a swig of my Lemonade Gatorade. I looked over at her, and despite the fatigue, despite the want to be somewhere else, she had started another set of reps. It made me proud that she understood what it took, and that she wanted it. A smile cracked my face, but she didn’t notice as she was gritting her teeth for what would be her final lift. I stood up from my seat and helped her place the bar behind her. The last lift was a struggle as I’m sure her arms felt like Jello. I motioned the spotters away as she took a chug of water. I helped her up from her seat and looked into her eyes. She had understood everything I said, but she really did want to go.
Mike Laszlo: I’m proud of you.
Alexis Caffrey: Why?
Mike Laszlo: You absorbed that. You made the sacrifice and you pushed on. So now, we can go.
Alexis Caffrey: Really?
Mike Laszlo: Yeah. Come on.
We started walking toward our bags, each of us picking them up off the bench and slinging them over our shoulders. She looked at me with a grin as she understood what was happening.
Alexis Caffrey: I get it.
Mike Laszlo: Get what?
Alexis Caffrey: What this was all about.
Mike Laszlo: Good. You get that my business, despite what it may seem, isn’t all glitz and glamor. There’s hard work and sacrifice put in on a daily occurrence. You realize that the term, blood, sweat, and tears isn’t just a cliché.
Alexis Caffrey: Yup.
Mike Laszlo: Good. Now don’t get me wrong, there’s perks to this job that go beyond anything you’ve ever experienced. You get to travel the world and do what many seldom even get a taste of doing. Sure there’s risk, but overall…I wouldn’t change a damn thing.
With what seemed like the last of her remaining physical strength she pushed herself up on her tip toes and gave me a kiss.
Alexis Caffrey: I love you. I wouldn’t change a thing about you either.
Mike Laszlo: I love you too, and the feeling is certainly mutual.
The two of us smiled at one another as I draped my good arm over her shoulder, pulling her in as we walked out the door into that bright, sunshiny day that I explained earlier.
====================
What I talked about before, the whole not disrespecting the abilities spiel, I wasn’t lying a single bit. All of that is true. The person though, that’s completely different.
The person behind the abilities is what makes the “superstar” in this business. That’s where I can disrespect you all I want, and you can do nothing but listen to it. I can take the names of the four men and dissect the character of each, dragging some though the mud while respecting the others, only to knock them down a peg or two because that’s what I do, and do well.
You can sit there with misguided half-truths, and you can ramble on about what you think is best, but it is all meaningless to me in the grand scheme of things. Again, and this time in the case of Andrew Jacobsen, you misconstrue what it is I’m trying to get across.
There’s a difference between not respecting and not caring. I respect the opinions of each and every person alive, either in that locker room or sitting in those seats of the arena. Every single person in the world is entitled to their opinion. That’s why you as a competitor can disagree with me. That’s why the people as fans get to boo or cheer me depending on their taste. This though is where I tell it like it is. I don’t have to care about it, and I don’t.
At the end of the day, when I lay in my bed next to my girlfriend, I don’t think of the boos or the cheers. I don’t lay there and stare at my ceiling thinking of the opinions you spew about me, because they really don’t matter.
To use the old saying: “An opinion is like an asshole, everybody has one.”
To listen to your opinions, and the opinions of anyone else; to subject myself to that; to bend myself to your wills would be uncharacteristic, and that’s not what I’m about.
I don’t go out to the ring and try to impress you. I don’t pass through that curtain and do what “THEY” want me to do. I walk down that ramp and I do what I want to do. I prove my superiority. That is why the opinions don’t matter, because they have no effect on me.
Wrestling is very contradictory. There’s the good, the bad, and the in between, or as we call them, “tweeners”. I relish the fact that I don’t fit the mold that this type of society has portrayed upon us. I am not good, I am not bad, I just am.
Media portrays us as wrestlers to be the villain, to be the hero, to be the role model. I will flat out deny any of it because I am none of those three. I don’t ask the parents of this world to look upon me as something they want their children to become, because that doesn’t fit my mold. If they allow their kids to do as I do, and speak as I speak, that’s on them. The only thing that does is make their child seem intelligent.
The difference between the four other men in this match and myself is that while opinion may sway them one way or another, and media may guide others to feel one way or another about them, none of it applies to me. Opinions don’t change the direction to my objective. I do what I want, anytime I want.
You can like it if you want to.
You can respect it, if you want to.
You can despise it…if you want to.
It makes no difference to me because I’m going to do it anyway.
It doesn’t matter if my actions create enemies. It doesn’t matter if it makes people love or hate me. All that matters is that my actions allow me to succeed my goal.
My goal this Sunday is to become the Heavyweight Champion of this World, and there’s not a damn thing on this or any other planet that’s going to stop me.
Well howdy there pardner.