Post by Mike Machado on Jun 15, 2013 19:01:59 GMT
“First, we’re going to talk about the heir to the throne battle royal.”
“But I won’t be in the Battle Royal if I win the Cruiserweight Title…”
Machado is on the outside of the IWF training ring, leaning up against the apron – looking up at Gib who is inside the ring.
“Let’s be honest, you’re probably not going to win the Cruiserweight Title.”
“Why do you say that, Gib?”
“You didn’t even know it was reverse ladder match. Hell, Mike – you didn’t even know who your opponents were. How the hell do you go into a match and not know who all of your opponents are!”
Machado cringes at the criticism.
“To be fair, Bushido is a ninja… it’s kind of his job to be stealthy.”
“He is not a ninja; he’s a samurai – and more importantly he’s a cruiserweight professional wrestler; something I hope to turn you into.”
“I’m going to be a ninja!?”
Gib walks in a small circle, breathing deeply and calming himself.
“Get in the ring, Machado.”
Machado slides under the ring ropes and into the training ring energetically. He does a quick warm-up “spin kick” and lets out his best Bruce Lee “WAHHH!”
“Stop it. You’re listening, I am teaching.”
“Yes, sensei; paint the fence, side-to-side.”
“Like I said, we’re focusing on the Battle Royal. Now – you don’t have to win the battle royal Machado. You have to finish in the top 8 in order to make it into the tournament.”
“Top 8? Pshhh, no problem, Gib!”
“Yes, it is a problem. Most of the men in that ring have the capacity to injure you.”
“Please don’t go into grave detail about my death again…”
“We’re talking, shallow water-filled grave.”
Machado looks down at his feet.
“Now, that I have your attention. Your strategy in this battle royal will not be to pin anyone. Or submit anyone, or attempt in any way to win the match.”
“I don’t understand?”
“You’re going to run away. You’re going to duck and dodge your way into a corner somewhere we people aren’t trying to end your life. You’re going to wait for your opportunity to strike…”
“And then the jumping swan-kick? Brilliant!”
“No! You’re going to let your opportunity to strike pass, and then you’re going to hide some more. If you end up as one of the final two people in the ring, you’re going to pray to whatever god you’ve chosen that your opponent has had a leg amputated during the match or something.”
“Oh…okay…”
“Now, it’s come to my attention that you believe yourself to be fairly good at running away.”
“I am.”
“I’m pretty goddamn good at catching people.”
“I feel like I know where this is headed…”
“You ready?”
Machado nods, goes to the middle of the ring and sits Indian style with his eyes closed.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re playing duck-duck-goose, right?”
Gib finally loses his patience and takes off toward Machado. Machado rolls quickly underneath the ropes and outside of the ring.
“Not bad, Mike… but how long do you think you can stay away from me?”
Gib moves with unexpected quickness to the outside, Machado attempts to slide back into the ring, but Gib catches his foot and pulls him back to the outside. Gib takes a swing at Machado, who manages to duck and move to the side.
“If I catch you I swear to god…”
Machado slides into the ring, looking panicked.
“Murder! I know! Jesus Christ you’re a violent man.”
The heir to the throne, eh?
More simply, it’s the road to become the Imperial Champion of this organization; the top of the pile, the king of the hill.
Now, three weeks ago if someone told you that Mike Machado would be mentioned in the same sentence as the top of this organization, I imagine that you would laugh. Hell, half of you probably still are laughing…
But I’ve been on a mission. I’ve been on a world tour – showing people what it means to underestimate me. I’ve been in the ring with former champions of all shapes and sizes, and I’ve shown them that I am not to be taken lightly. It’s costly to ignore me, and if you overlook me for even a second, you can end up in the might of mediocrity before you even know what hit you.
That’s all it takes. Just three short seconds, and suddenly I’m not such a joke anymore.
Ignore me if you’d like, chase me at your peril. I’ll have you all know that Gib chased me around for a solid straight hour before he caught me. We aren’t going to go into the power-wedgie that he gave me when he got his hands on me; we’ll just say that I’ve been training exhaustively for this match.
There are going to be a lot of hungry opponents going into that ring at Bloody Assizes – crowding that ring for the battle royal – hoping to become the next heir to the throne…
Let me give all of you a little advice – if you don’t see me with that Cruiserweight title around my waist, you had damn well better keep your eye on me for the rest of the night.
It’s time to ascend to the next level of competition. No longer will I be laughed at, ignored, treated as a side-show. No. One way or another, this Sunday I’m going to be in the spotlight. I’m either leaving with that Cruiserweight title secured around my waist, or I’m leaving with a spot inside the Heir to the Throne tournament.
For lots of you – it may just be another pay per view. For me, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to steal the show.
One way or another, I’m not leaving Chicago without having my hand raised.
“But I won’t be in the Battle Royal if I win the Cruiserweight Title…”
Machado is on the outside of the IWF training ring, leaning up against the apron – looking up at Gib who is inside the ring.
“Let’s be honest, you’re probably not going to win the Cruiserweight Title.”
“Why do you say that, Gib?”
“You didn’t even know it was reverse ladder match. Hell, Mike – you didn’t even know who your opponents were. How the hell do you go into a match and not know who all of your opponents are!”
Machado cringes at the criticism.
“To be fair, Bushido is a ninja… it’s kind of his job to be stealthy.”
“He is not a ninja; he’s a samurai – and more importantly he’s a cruiserweight professional wrestler; something I hope to turn you into.”
“I’m going to be a ninja!?”
Gib walks in a small circle, breathing deeply and calming himself.
“Get in the ring, Machado.”
Machado slides under the ring ropes and into the training ring energetically. He does a quick warm-up “spin kick” and lets out his best Bruce Lee “WAHHH!”
“Stop it. You’re listening, I am teaching.”
“Yes, sensei; paint the fence, side-to-side.”
“Like I said, we’re focusing on the Battle Royal. Now – you don’t have to win the battle royal Machado. You have to finish in the top 8 in order to make it into the tournament.”
“Top 8? Pshhh, no problem, Gib!”
“Yes, it is a problem. Most of the men in that ring have the capacity to injure you.”
“Please don’t go into grave detail about my death again…”
“We’re talking, shallow water-filled grave.”
Machado looks down at his feet.
“Now, that I have your attention. Your strategy in this battle royal will not be to pin anyone. Or submit anyone, or attempt in any way to win the match.”
“I don’t understand?”
“You’re going to run away. You’re going to duck and dodge your way into a corner somewhere we people aren’t trying to end your life. You’re going to wait for your opportunity to strike…”
“And then the jumping swan-kick? Brilliant!”
“No! You’re going to let your opportunity to strike pass, and then you’re going to hide some more. If you end up as one of the final two people in the ring, you’re going to pray to whatever god you’ve chosen that your opponent has had a leg amputated during the match or something.”
“Oh…okay…”
“Now, it’s come to my attention that you believe yourself to be fairly good at running away.”
“I am.”
“I’m pretty goddamn good at catching people.”
“I feel like I know where this is headed…”
“You ready?”
Machado nods, goes to the middle of the ring and sits Indian style with his eyes closed.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re playing duck-duck-goose, right?”
Gib finally loses his patience and takes off toward Machado. Machado rolls quickly underneath the ropes and outside of the ring.
“Not bad, Mike… but how long do you think you can stay away from me?”
Gib moves with unexpected quickness to the outside, Machado attempts to slide back into the ring, but Gib catches his foot and pulls him back to the outside. Gib takes a swing at Machado, who manages to duck and move to the side.
“If I catch you I swear to god…”
Machado slides into the ring, looking panicked.
“Murder! I know! Jesus Christ you’re a violent man.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The heir to the throne, eh?
More simply, it’s the road to become the Imperial Champion of this organization; the top of the pile, the king of the hill.
Now, three weeks ago if someone told you that Mike Machado would be mentioned in the same sentence as the top of this organization, I imagine that you would laugh. Hell, half of you probably still are laughing…
But I’ve been on a mission. I’ve been on a world tour – showing people what it means to underestimate me. I’ve been in the ring with former champions of all shapes and sizes, and I’ve shown them that I am not to be taken lightly. It’s costly to ignore me, and if you overlook me for even a second, you can end up in the might of mediocrity before you even know what hit you.
That’s all it takes. Just three short seconds, and suddenly I’m not such a joke anymore.
Ignore me if you’d like, chase me at your peril. I’ll have you all know that Gib chased me around for a solid straight hour before he caught me. We aren’t going to go into the power-wedgie that he gave me when he got his hands on me; we’ll just say that I’ve been training exhaustively for this match.
There are going to be a lot of hungry opponents going into that ring at Bloody Assizes – crowding that ring for the battle royal – hoping to become the next heir to the throne…
Let me give all of you a little advice – if you don’t see me with that Cruiserweight title around my waist, you had damn well better keep your eye on me for the rest of the night.
It’s time to ascend to the next level of competition. No longer will I be laughed at, ignored, treated as a side-show. No. One way or another, this Sunday I’m going to be in the spotlight. I’m either leaving with that Cruiserweight title secured around my waist, or I’m leaving with a spot inside the Heir to the Throne tournament.
For lots of you – it may just be another pay per view. For me, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to steal the show.
One way or another, I’m not leaving Chicago without having my hand raised.
Well howdy there pardner.