Post by Mike Machado on Jun 23, 2013 15:21:29 GMT
Sometimes, we do all that we can to overcome our weaknesses. Sometimes we put it all on the line - we pour our hearts, our souls, our staches into something… and it just isn’t enough.
It wasn’t enough to win the Cruiserweight title. Keeton saw to that.
It wasn’t enough to win the Battle Royal, either; too much momentum for Lex Sense’s big debut.
My efforts just weren’t enough to overcome the mediocrity that I’ve been saddled with. Sure, I’ve improved. I put on a show – I brought out a whole new moveset in the cruiserweight match. I pulled out all the stops, took all the risks… and in the end it was all for naught.
The universe is a funny thing, though. I didn’t have enough last Sunday, but this Monday I get another chance. I get the man of the hour – Lex Sense in the ring.
Honestly, I’m terrified.
It’s not really fair to call Lex the man of the hour, because he’s hardly a man. He’s a pain machine. He has one purpose in life, and it’s to cause others as much discomfort as he possibly can before he moves on.
I don’t think that I can beat Lex Sense.
I do plan to survive him.
This Monday we find out what happens when an unstoppable force runs into an immortal object.
I won’t stay down, Lex. You can bring all the pain you want – and when you turn around you’ll find me right back on my feet.
“I’m here to see Juan Carlos Domingo.”
Machado stands awkwardly in the entrance of a run-down building. Behind him the busy street threatens to wash him away if he takes a step backward. A very large Latino man stands in front of him, leaning on the doorway and blocking Machado’s entrance.
“Juan Carlos doesn’t take visitors, gringo.”
“It’s Machado, Mike Machado; nice to meet you!”
Machado sticks his hand out, looking for a handshake. The large man looks down at the hand and then back up into Machado’s face.
“I said get lost.”
“You don’t understand. I need Mr. Domingo to teach me how to wrestle in the traditional luchador style that is native to your people.”
“Did you just say “my people”? You’re lost little man. You need to get out of here before you make me anymore angry than I already am.”
“I brought cervazas!”
Machado pulls a six-pack of Corona from behind his back.
“Are you serious? You know what you little motherfu..”
The offended man starts to come out of the doorway, probably to attempt murder, but suddenly a hand reaches around him and pats him on the side.
“Let the little man through. He’s obviously got cojonoes, let’s see if he has any talent.”
The huge man reluctantly steps inside the building, and a much smaller one emerges from behind him. Shorter than, Mike – even.
“You said it was Machado, right? C’mon in, Machado. Leave the beer. This is a drug and alcohol free gym.”
Machado shrugs, puts the beer onto the ground and then steps inside the building, and the door closes slowly behind him.
Cable – I admire you, too.
You seem to have a whole lot going on in your life. I’ll forgive you for confusing me with Freakke.
Honestly, we’re not so different – me and him.
And Cable, we’re not so different, me and you.
We’re both struggling to find ourselves; struggling to make an identity in this scary new world that is the IWF. You’re trying to overcome the insurmountable shadow that is Angel, and I’m trying to shed this notion that I’m nothing but a mediocre joke.
Which one do you think is more painful?
How many of your opponents were happy to see your name opposite theirs? How many of them have called you a name other than your own?
Here’s the thing, Cable. We both know that Lex has this incredible momentum coming into this match. I’m sure that deep down, neither one of us is exactly ecstatic to get into the ring with him.
Do you know what that means?
One of us is probably going to get pinned.
I’m not saying it’s a forgone conclusion; I’m just being realistic, here.
It won’t be me.
I might not win this match, but I will not lose it.
“Let’s see what you got, then – Mike!”
Juan Carlos rests on the ring apron outside the ring, looking in where Machado stands next to the huge doorman he met earlier.
“I’m here because I don’t have much – Juan Carlos!”
The match has garnered the attention of the entire gym. There are 15-20 people scattered around the outside of the ring, the ones in the back craning their necks to see inside.
“I need to know what you know before I can teach you anything new.”
Machado looks apprehensive, but determined. He marches to the middle of the ring.
“Jose – remember what we talked about, before? You want to beat the guy, but avoid injuring him permanently.”
Mike looks out to Juan Carlos.
“Wait, has he killed a man or something? I’m not sure I’m still okay with this…”
Machado doesn’t have a choice – as Jose is only feet away. The other members of the gym crowd around the ring more closely, turning this into an impromptu lumberjack match.
“Let’s dance, then!”
Machado runs toward Jose, and ducks a monstrous clothesline. He kicks him in the back of the leg, but Jose barely notices as he turns around and clobbers Machado with a huge right hand. Machado falls to the ground in a heap.
“Sorry Juan Carlos, I didn’t mean it…”
Jose turns around to apologize for ending the match so fast, but doesn’t notice that Machado has managed to get back to his feet. Machado taps Jose on the shoulder from behind, and as he turns around Machado throws an Arm-Dragon. Jose hits the mat and rolls to his feet reflexively, but Machado is already on top of him with the might-of-mediocrity. He rolls up Jose tight, and there’s no way out.
“Uno, Dos, Tres – let him go”
Machado releases the small package and Jose is back up to his feet quickly.
“That’s a bitch-ass move!”
Jose towers over Machado again. Mike looks behind him, trying to find an escape route, but the men on the outside don’t seem too friendly toward him either.
“He’s right, muchacho! Small packages are not wins in this gym.”
Mike gulps and turns to face Jose, yet again. He attempts a standing drop-kick, but the huge man shrugs it off easily. He grabs Machado off the ground and in an impressive display of power lifts him straight up into a powerbomb. He drops to cover him, but Machado kicks out immediately.
“That’s enough.”
Juan Carlos ends the match prematurely. Jose doesn’t look too happy about it, and the groans from the outside indicate that the spectators aren’t thrilled either.
“We need to talk. Let’s go to my office.”
A lot of people question this “new man” that they see in me.
The fact is it’s nothing new.
It’s always been here, somewhere… lurking in the background; Overshadowed by Jason Blair, or Mike Honcho, or Phillip Burns.
But underneath all of the smiles, all of the laughs and even underneath the mustache there is my desire to succeed here. I came to this sport, not to take second place. Not to be someone of note… I came here to win.
I came here to become famous; become a star.
What better way to accomplish this, then an Imperial championship around my waist?
You’re the man to beat now, Lex. First it was Jake Keeton, and now it’s you.
It’s never me.
It never has been - and the only way I will ever be the man to beat is if I beat men like you.
“Juan Carlos…”
“Call me Juan. It’s just Juan.”
Juan rests with his dirty and worn shoes on his desk. Machado sits in a chair in front of him, slightly uncomfortable.
“Juan… thank you for seeing me.”
“You really do suck. You know that, right?”
Machado immediately gets out of his chair and walks toward the desk.
“Juan, people have been telling me that I suck for my entire goddamn life. I’m sick and tired of it…”
Machado slams his hands down on the desk. Juan sits motionless, slightly amused.
“You may be sick and tired of it, and you’re obviously very angry… but that doesn’t make you suck any less.”
Machado spins around quickly, headed toward the door.
“I can make you suck less.”
Mike pauses as he reaches the door and turns around to face Juan.
“How?”
Juan gets out of his chair, and walks up to Machado.
“I can teach you how to wrestle. Wrestling is easy.”
Machado balks at the statement.
“You don’t have natural talent, but you have something that nobody else in this building has. You have passion.”
“Yeah, yeah – I’ve heard it all before, Juan. You know what? I don’t even need this.”
“You’re going to get yourself hurt, amigo. You step into that ring with that attitude, and without the skills to back it up, and someone is going to end your career before it can even begin.”
Mike walks back into the middle of the room.
“Fine then, teach me.”
Juan walks back to his desk, sits down, and puts his feet back on the desk.
“Not today – not when you’re like this.”
“Useless.”
Machado storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Juan laughs quietly to himself, watching Mike leave the gym.
“See you next week, amigo.”
It wasn’t enough to win the Cruiserweight title. Keeton saw to that.
It wasn’t enough to win the Battle Royal, either; too much momentum for Lex Sense’s big debut.
My efforts just weren’t enough to overcome the mediocrity that I’ve been saddled with. Sure, I’ve improved. I put on a show – I brought out a whole new moveset in the cruiserweight match. I pulled out all the stops, took all the risks… and in the end it was all for naught.
The universe is a funny thing, though. I didn’t have enough last Sunday, but this Monday I get another chance. I get the man of the hour – Lex Sense in the ring.
Honestly, I’m terrified.
It’s not really fair to call Lex the man of the hour, because he’s hardly a man. He’s a pain machine. He has one purpose in life, and it’s to cause others as much discomfort as he possibly can before he moves on.
I don’t think that I can beat Lex Sense.
I do plan to survive him.
This Monday we find out what happens when an unstoppable force runs into an immortal object.
I won’t stay down, Lex. You can bring all the pain you want – and when you turn around you’ll find me right back on my feet.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I’m here to see Juan Carlos Domingo.”
Machado stands awkwardly in the entrance of a run-down building. Behind him the busy street threatens to wash him away if he takes a step backward. A very large Latino man stands in front of him, leaning on the doorway and blocking Machado’s entrance.
“Juan Carlos doesn’t take visitors, gringo.”
“It’s Machado, Mike Machado; nice to meet you!”
Machado sticks his hand out, looking for a handshake. The large man looks down at the hand and then back up into Machado’s face.
“I said get lost.”
“You don’t understand. I need Mr. Domingo to teach me how to wrestle in the traditional luchador style that is native to your people.”
“Did you just say “my people”? You’re lost little man. You need to get out of here before you make me anymore angry than I already am.”
“I brought cervazas!”
Machado pulls a six-pack of Corona from behind his back.
“Are you serious? You know what you little motherfu..”
The offended man starts to come out of the doorway, probably to attempt murder, but suddenly a hand reaches around him and pats him on the side.
“Let the little man through. He’s obviously got cojonoes, let’s see if he has any talent.”
The huge man reluctantly steps inside the building, and a much smaller one emerges from behind him. Shorter than, Mike – even.
“You said it was Machado, right? C’mon in, Machado. Leave the beer. This is a drug and alcohol free gym.”
Machado shrugs, puts the beer onto the ground and then steps inside the building, and the door closes slowly behind him.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cable – I admire you, too.
You seem to have a whole lot going on in your life. I’ll forgive you for confusing me with Freakke.
Honestly, we’re not so different – me and him.
And Cable, we’re not so different, me and you.
We’re both struggling to find ourselves; struggling to make an identity in this scary new world that is the IWF. You’re trying to overcome the insurmountable shadow that is Angel, and I’m trying to shed this notion that I’m nothing but a mediocre joke.
Which one do you think is more painful?
How many of your opponents were happy to see your name opposite theirs? How many of them have called you a name other than your own?
Here’s the thing, Cable. We both know that Lex has this incredible momentum coming into this match. I’m sure that deep down, neither one of us is exactly ecstatic to get into the ring with him.
Do you know what that means?
One of us is probably going to get pinned.
I’m not saying it’s a forgone conclusion; I’m just being realistic, here.
It won’t be me.
I might not win this match, but I will not lose it.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Let’s see what you got, then – Mike!”
Juan Carlos rests on the ring apron outside the ring, looking in where Machado stands next to the huge doorman he met earlier.
“I’m here because I don’t have much – Juan Carlos!”
The match has garnered the attention of the entire gym. There are 15-20 people scattered around the outside of the ring, the ones in the back craning their necks to see inside.
“I need to know what you know before I can teach you anything new.”
Machado looks apprehensive, but determined. He marches to the middle of the ring.
“Jose – remember what we talked about, before? You want to beat the guy, but avoid injuring him permanently.”
Mike looks out to Juan Carlos.
“Wait, has he killed a man or something? I’m not sure I’m still okay with this…”
Machado doesn’t have a choice – as Jose is only feet away. The other members of the gym crowd around the ring more closely, turning this into an impromptu lumberjack match.
“Let’s dance, then!”
Machado runs toward Jose, and ducks a monstrous clothesline. He kicks him in the back of the leg, but Jose barely notices as he turns around and clobbers Machado with a huge right hand. Machado falls to the ground in a heap.
“Sorry Juan Carlos, I didn’t mean it…”
Jose turns around to apologize for ending the match so fast, but doesn’t notice that Machado has managed to get back to his feet. Machado taps Jose on the shoulder from behind, and as he turns around Machado throws an Arm-Dragon. Jose hits the mat and rolls to his feet reflexively, but Machado is already on top of him with the might-of-mediocrity. He rolls up Jose tight, and there’s no way out.
“Uno, Dos, Tres – let him go”
Machado releases the small package and Jose is back up to his feet quickly.
“That’s a bitch-ass move!”
Jose towers over Machado again. Mike looks behind him, trying to find an escape route, but the men on the outside don’t seem too friendly toward him either.
“He’s right, muchacho! Small packages are not wins in this gym.”
Mike gulps and turns to face Jose, yet again. He attempts a standing drop-kick, but the huge man shrugs it off easily. He grabs Machado off the ground and in an impressive display of power lifts him straight up into a powerbomb. He drops to cover him, but Machado kicks out immediately.
“That’s enough.”
Juan Carlos ends the match prematurely. Jose doesn’t look too happy about it, and the groans from the outside indicate that the spectators aren’t thrilled either.
“We need to talk. Let’s go to my office.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A lot of people question this “new man” that they see in me.
The fact is it’s nothing new.
It’s always been here, somewhere… lurking in the background; Overshadowed by Jason Blair, or Mike Honcho, or Phillip Burns.
But underneath all of the smiles, all of the laughs and even underneath the mustache there is my desire to succeed here. I came to this sport, not to take second place. Not to be someone of note… I came here to win.
I came here to become famous; become a star.
What better way to accomplish this, then an Imperial championship around my waist?
You’re the man to beat now, Lex. First it was Jake Keeton, and now it’s you.
It’s never me.
It never has been - and the only way I will ever be the man to beat is if I beat men like you.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Juan Carlos…”
“Call me Juan. It’s just Juan.”
Juan rests with his dirty and worn shoes on his desk. Machado sits in a chair in front of him, slightly uncomfortable.
“Juan… thank you for seeing me.”
“You really do suck. You know that, right?”
Machado immediately gets out of his chair and walks toward the desk.
“Juan, people have been telling me that I suck for my entire goddamn life. I’m sick and tired of it…”
Machado slams his hands down on the desk. Juan sits motionless, slightly amused.
“You may be sick and tired of it, and you’re obviously very angry… but that doesn’t make you suck any less.”
Machado spins around quickly, headed toward the door.
“I can make you suck less.”
Mike pauses as he reaches the door and turns around to face Juan.
“How?”
Juan gets out of his chair, and walks up to Machado.
“I can teach you how to wrestle. Wrestling is easy.”
Machado balks at the statement.
“You don’t have natural talent, but you have something that nobody else in this building has. You have passion.”
“Yeah, yeah – I’ve heard it all before, Juan. You know what? I don’t even need this.”
“You’re going to get yourself hurt, amigo. You step into that ring with that attitude, and without the skills to back it up, and someone is going to end your career before it can even begin.”
Mike walks back into the middle of the room.
“Fine then, teach me.”
Juan walks back to his desk, sits down, and puts his feet back on the desk.
“Not today – not when you’re like this.”
“Useless.”
Machado storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Juan laughs quietly to himself, watching Mike leave the gym.
“See you next week, amigo.”
Well howdy there pardner.