Post by Roberto Verona on Jan 31, 2016 1:34:52 GMT
So, the time has finally come.
I suppose the audience is waiting with baited breath, frozen with the anticipation of whether I will sell five years of friendship down the river for the sake for fifteen minutes of soundbites in a facile attempt gain a psychological advantage.
Desperate to see cracks in the administration which rules with an iron fists.
Well, sorry to disappoint you all, but I’m not in the business of lying through my teeth and turning my back on my principles for speculative gains. As much as you would love to hear me tear Jake Conway apart in a poetic betrayal, I’m not going to give you the satisfaction. I’ll save the cutting criticism for men who truly warrant it, men who are well above their station.
Men I do not consider my friend.
If you want to call that favouritism, please, feel free. It’d be imbecilic of you to do so, but let’s be honest, at this stage only fools waste their time misinterpreting my intentions to further their own ends.
Jake “The Ace” Conway deserves his opportunity this weekend far, far more than anybody who has demanded it since I relinquished this belt from the despotic grip of a criminal you all deemed fit for execution. I needn’t concoct an elaborate and complex mirage to discredit his accomplishments because, whether you like it or not.
I show respect to those who’ve earned the right.
And, Jake, regardless of our personal feelings, I cannot deny that you deserve to be stood across that ring from me this Sunday. Some will point to how you clinched this spot, exploiting the actions of Spike Kane, whilst I would simply point out your enduring loyalty to this business and this company, your stellar win percentage record and your revolutionary Man of Steel championship reign.
I’m not a man who will argue against that.
Make no mistake, you deserve to be in this match, if not for the reasons above alone, but for all the times you’ve been consistently overlooked, because let’s face it, that is the defining description of your career. For years, you’ve been seen as the dependable hand who will show up, do your job well, but never somebody the establishment need trouble itself with considering to be a potential face of the company.
Promoter after promoter has seen fit to relegate you to supporting act, depriving you of your chance in the spotlight for whatever excuse they could muster.
Well, I made a promise and I’m a man of my word. That is why, at Metamorphosis, a pay per view which holds a dear place in your heart, you will finally be given the opportunity to enjoy the fruits of your extensive labours and prove to the world that you have what it takes to be more than a reliable cog in the machine, but that you can be the man who turns the key.
All you have to do is overcome the elephant in the room; you’re going to have to beat the living daylights out of the man you consider your best friend in this business, the man who you helped shape into an icon just as much as Xander Famularo, Adam Knite and Kelly Fox.
But then, you were never a man who did things easily.
You were never a man who requested handouts.
And that is why I always respected you, when so many others deemed it fit to overlook you because, for them, it was easier to let you sink into your comfortable role as a family man than it ever was to truly invest in you, you never stopped trying to be the best you could be and simply cashed in your loyalty card.
You never tried to live on your previous accomplishments, you never played the political game to get ahead, you went out there, whether they liked you or hated you, and did your job to the fullest because you’re a God damn professional.
And this weekend, you will finally reap the rewards of your hard earned labour.
Finally, it’s time for Jake “The Ace” Conway to step onto the stage he earned access to years ago, it’s time to step up and prove to the world that you have what it takes to take what you want and finally be given the respect you so richly deserve.
The only problem is, to do so, you need to vanquish the monster you had a hand in creating.
You have to defeat me.
I suppose the audience is waiting with baited breath, frozen with the anticipation of whether I will sell five years of friendship down the river for the sake for fifteen minutes of soundbites in a facile attempt gain a psychological advantage.
Desperate to see cracks in the administration which rules with an iron fists.
Well, sorry to disappoint you all, but I’m not in the business of lying through my teeth and turning my back on my principles for speculative gains. As much as you would love to hear me tear Jake Conway apart in a poetic betrayal, I’m not going to give you the satisfaction. I’ll save the cutting criticism for men who truly warrant it, men who are well above their station.
Men I do not consider my friend.
If you want to call that favouritism, please, feel free. It’d be imbecilic of you to do so, but let’s be honest, at this stage only fools waste their time misinterpreting my intentions to further their own ends.
Jake “The Ace” Conway deserves his opportunity this weekend far, far more than anybody who has demanded it since I relinquished this belt from the despotic grip of a criminal you all deemed fit for execution. I needn’t concoct an elaborate and complex mirage to discredit his accomplishments because, whether you like it or not.
I show respect to those who’ve earned the right.
And, Jake, regardless of our personal feelings, I cannot deny that you deserve to be stood across that ring from me this Sunday. Some will point to how you clinched this spot, exploiting the actions of Spike Kane, whilst I would simply point out your enduring loyalty to this business and this company, your stellar win percentage record and your revolutionary Man of Steel championship reign.
I’m not a man who will argue against that.
Make no mistake, you deserve to be in this match, if not for the reasons above alone, but for all the times you’ve been consistently overlooked, because let’s face it, that is the defining description of your career. For years, you’ve been seen as the dependable hand who will show up, do your job well, but never somebody the establishment need trouble itself with considering to be a potential face of the company.
Promoter after promoter has seen fit to relegate you to supporting act, depriving you of your chance in the spotlight for whatever excuse they could muster.
Well, I made a promise and I’m a man of my word. That is why, at Metamorphosis, a pay per view which holds a dear place in your heart, you will finally be given the opportunity to enjoy the fruits of your extensive labours and prove to the world that you have what it takes to be more than a reliable cog in the machine, but that you can be the man who turns the key.
All you have to do is overcome the elephant in the room; you’re going to have to beat the living daylights out of the man you consider your best friend in this business, the man who you helped shape into an icon just as much as Xander Famularo, Adam Knite and Kelly Fox.
But then, you were never a man who did things easily.
You were never a man who requested handouts.
And that is why I always respected you, when so many others deemed it fit to overlook you because, for them, it was easier to let you sink into your comfortable role as a family man than it ever was to truly invest in you, you never stopped trying to be the best you could be and simply cashed in your loyalty card.
You never tried to live on your previous accomplishments, you never played the political game to get ahead, you went out there, whether they liked you or hated you, and did your job to the fullest because you’re a God damn professional.
And this weekend, you will finally reap the rewards of your hard earned labour.
Finally, it’s time for Jake “The Ace” Conway to step onto the stage he earned access to years ago, it’s time to step up and prove to the world that you have what it takes to take what you want and finally be given the respect you so richly deserve.
The only problem is, to do so, you need to vanquish the monster you had a hand in creating.
You have to defeat me.
{ A large fire crackles inside an ornate stone fireplace flanked by a row of bookshelves, filled to the brim with extensive literature. Outside the wind howls violently as rain lashes against the window panes, contrasting with the total tranquillity in which the IWF COO, Roberto Verona, finds himself. Verona reclines on a large sofa, his feet resting on a nearby oak table, his feet inches away from a glass of red wine as he clenches a book in his hand. A few moments past before he looks up, noticing his partner Hannah Reed approaching him, her face solemn. Verona rests the book beside him, shifting his focus to Hannah. }
Roberto Verona: What’s the matter?
{ Hannah sits down beside him, placing her head on his shoulder as he adjusts himself to make her more comfortable. }
Hannah Reed: Oh… nothing.
Roberto Verona: Come on, I know you, something is wrong.
{ Hannah sighs. }
Hannah Reed: Are you sure you’re ready for this? Regardless of your ability to remove emotion from your matches and focus on your goals, we both know this weekend is different. It’s easy to detach your hatred for men like Renee Pleasant from the importance of ensuring you defeat them, it’s not so easy to detach your long term friendship from your desire to retain the Imperial Championship.
{ Verona nods. }
Roberto Verona: Perhaps not. However, I owe it to Jake to not submit myself to granting him special treatment.
Hannah Reed: What do you mean?
Roberto Verona: I know Jake. I know how much his pride would be wounded if he got any inclination that I had allowed myself to become emotionally involved in this match and for whatever reason that detracted from my ability to perform on the night. He may capitalise on that and win, but deep down he would never be satisfied if he believed that he had become the Imperial Champion against a conflicted man.
{ Hannah tightens her grip, wrapping her arms around Verona tightly. }
Hannah Reed: Then you know what you need to do.
Roberto Verona: I’ve known since the moment I made my promise that when that bell rings I would have to look at Jake, not as the man who helped change my career, not as one of the only men I can truly call my friend, but as just another opponent preparing to do everything it takes to deprive me of my Imperial Championship. I owe him nothing less, ironically, than my complete and utter devotion to ensuring that his dreams go up in smoke.
{ Hannah pauses momentarily, a worried look painted across her face. }
Roberto Verona: What’s wrong?
Hannah Reed: I’m just worried whether this will change anything.
Roberto Verona: You mean if I lose?
{ Hannah shakes her head. }
Hannah Reed: Not necessarily. I’m worried how Jake will react if he gets so far, only to fall up short against your, yet equally I’m worried how you will feel if you should fail to defend your belt. Don’t forget, I was there when you departed NCW and despite your best attempts to bury yourself in your work for the transition, I could see how much it pained you. I just don’t want to see you two drift apart into your own melancholies before you’ve poured so much into this.
Roberto Verona: You’re worried that defeat will break one of us?
Hannah Reed: In a sense… yes.
{ Verona pauses, trying to find the correct words in his mind. He leans down, grabbing his glass of wine in his hand firmly before taking a sip. }
Roberto Verona: I can’t deny it’s a possibility, but equally we wouldn’t be the men we are if we didn’t pour everything we had into this. Our prides may be bruised for some weeks, I have no doubt, but ultimately we have to break the others spirit if we want to give each other the respect we both deserve. The consequences of which we are free to deal with when they come, but as long as we give each other our all, it’ll have no effect on our friendship.
{ Verona kisses Hannah on the forehead gently. }
Roberto Verona: Nor will it affect your friendship with Kathy.
Hannah Reed: How did you….
{ Hannah rolls her eyes. }
Hannah Reed: Right, right, you know me just as well as I know you…. I get it. Still, we’ve finally found a place we are comfortable, it’s bad enough worrying about you and Jess, I didn’t want to lose the only other stability in our lives.
Roberto Verona: Don’t worry about Jake and Kathy, our pride isn’t something that can’t be repaired over several… several, bottles of the finest liquor in our cellar.
{ Verona pauses. }
Roberto Verona: And don’t worry about Jess, either.
Hannah Reed: It’s my job to worry, she’s my little sister and despite people’s disbelief to the contrary, you’re my boyfriend. She barely speaks to me these days and she refuses to even talk about you.
Roberto Verona: She’ll cope, in her own unique granted, but cope nonetheless. Besides she may not see it this way yet, but if my being a heartless bastard frees her of the chains she placed around herself since that injury and gets her back doing what she loves, then it was for the best.
{ Hannah laughs. }
Hannah Reed: Trust you to have a justification for your total bastardry, even when it comes to those you care about.
Roberto Verona: I have an explanation for everything, it’s why you fell in love with me.
{ Hannah lifts her head up with feigned indignation. }
Hannah Reed: Is that so?
Roberto Verona: Well, that and my massive heart and my deep compassion for others.
{ Verona pauses as they both stare at each other before bursting into laughter. Hannah slowly lays her head down again as the pairs jubilation slowly fades away into a satisfied silence, though as Hannah beams from ear to ear Verona’s face becomes a picture of deep thought at Verona thinks to himself… }
Roberto Verona: This weekend… to achieve what I want, to give Jake what he needs… I must break one of my dearest friends and that… that is no laughing matter.
{ Verona stares blankly for a moment before he spots Hannah slowly beginning to look up at him. Quickly, he masks his concern with a smile as the pair begin to lay close next to one another and our scene slowly fades to black. }
We both knew this day would come.
When you locked eyes on me and realised my true potential, deeming me worthy of your guidance before I took what I learnt from you and went on to dominate this business, we both knew that the day would come that the master, and his apprentice would have to stand toe to toe, both in their prime.
And see who the better wrestler was.
You know, Jake, you presented an interesting juxtaposition between needing this belt to satisfy some core principle and simply wanting this belt to fulfil a function. The only problem was, despite everything you know about me and everything you taught me, you made a fundamental error in your judgement with regards to the necessity of this belts function within my life.
The one thing that could prove fatal when you step into the ring with the man you helped mould.
You’re correct, I don’t need this belt to accomplish what I’ve deemed as necessary in this company’s overall direction and ethos, no do I need this belt to really prove anything to anybody else because my accomplishments do speak for themselves. However, where you’re wrong is in your assessment for exactly why I carry this belt over my shoulder and in all honesty, it’s not a mistake I blame for making.
You assume that I merely want to wear this title as some sort of trinket to lord over the roster, an ornate carrot to dangle on a stick just out of reach as I starve them of the very last piece of motivation that was keeping them going.
That couldn’t be further from the truth.
You know me well enough by now to realise that if I merely wanted to traumatise and deprive my enemies of the opportunity to call themselves “champion” I can be far more creative and, if the situation warrants it, sadistic. There’s so many way to kill what is left inside of the idealistic bright eyed dreamer, simply depriving them of silverware by taking it for myself pales in comparison.
I don’t just want to be Imperial Champion, I need to be.
I need this championship over my shoulder because fundamentally, at my core before anything else, I am a professional wrestler. I need this belt because, contrary to whether I may or may not be secure in my own abilities and accomplishments this simplistic piece of leather of gold plate is, if nothing else, a symbol. The Imperial Championship symbolises, to the world, that I, Roberto Verona, am standing tall at the peak of our profession and anybody who desires to argue to the contrary is forced to stand toe to toe with me and prove that assertion incorrect.
You spoke a lot about what you taught me, Jake, and I won’t deny it, you forced me to learn to adapt to this business or perish but you also taught me something far more valuable.
The importance of being selfish.
Everybody sees you differently, some see you as a grizzled veteran and others see you as a sadist for hire, but I’ve always seen you in a different light. I’ve always seen you as the man who is selfish enough to realise what you want from life, regardless of who else it may hurt or offend.
You were selfish enough to dedicate yourself to your family in the prime of your career, you were selfish enough to determine that a highly paid part time position was more beneficial for your health and happiness and, more recently, you were selfish enough to demand recompense in the form of a title shot that matched your value to this company and your recent in-ring accomplishments.
Throughout your career, you’ve been selfish enough to put yourself and those you care about first, ahead of those who perhaps could have advanced your career in the short term. You taught me that ultimately, what matters, is that I do what I want with my life, no matter the consequences and critics be damned.
So I stopped writing cheques and biting my tongue and I started doing what I always did best. What I always lived for. Fuelling my desire to prove to the world just how damn good I am and revolutionising this business from the front lines not the office, and for that, I required a symbol.
The symbol I wear over my shoulder.
I needed to prove a point to myself that, despite my absence, I could still lace up my boots and prove to the world what a true professional wrestler looks like and that true change needs men like me. A man who takes what he wants, when he wants, in whatever way he damn so pleases. That this business wasn’t limply surrendering itself to an entitled elite who holds companies hostage to their demands because somehow they’ve managed to sell the lie that they cannot survive without them.
So this weekend, I also need to do everything in my power to beat you.
I need to prove to the world that it’s still possible for two men who deserve to be on the ultimate platform to go out there, fight with everything they have in their soul, beat each other black and blue until one of them cannot stand any longer.
I need this belt to be wrapped around the waists of men who can restore people’s faith in the apex of professional wrestling, who will create change by their actions, not their wishes.
Luckily for me, I have the consolation that if I should fail, I will be passing that torch to the only man who I trust completely to be capable of accomplishing that goal. A man who I know needs to be Imperial champion just as much as I do, for whatever his personal motivations.
The man who never doubted me.
The man who always believed in me.
The man who, no matter what happens inside that ring on Sunday, I am proud to call my friend.
When you locked eyes on me and realised my true potential, deeming me worthy of your guidance before I took what I learnt from you and went on to dominate this business, we both knew that the day would come that the master, and his apprentice would have to stand toe to toe, both in their prime.
And see who the better wrestler was.
You know, Jake, you presented an interesting juxtaposition between needing this belt to satisfy some core principle and simply wanting this belt to fulfil a function. The only problem was, despite everything you know about me and everything you taught me, you made a fundamental error in your judgement with regards to the necessity of this belts function within my life.
The one thing that could prove fatal when you step into the ring with the man you helped mould.
You’re correct, I don’t need this belt to accomplish what I’ve deemed as necessary in this company’s overall direction and ethos, no do I need this belt to really prove anything to anybody else because my accomplishments do speak for themselves. However, where you’re wrong is in your assessment for exactly why I carry this belt over my shoulder and in all honesty, it’s not a mistake I blame for making.
You assume that I merely want to wear this title as some sort of trinket to lord over the roster, an ornate carrot to dangle on a stick just out of reach as I starve them of the very last piece of motivation that was keeping them going.
That couldn’t be further from the truth.
You know me well enough by now to realise that if I merely wanted to traumatise and deprive my enemies of the opportunity to call themselves “champion” I can be far more creative and, if the situation warrants it, sadistic. There’s so many way to kill what is left inside of the idealistic bright eyed dreamer, simply depriving them of silverware by taking it for myself pales in comparison.
I don’t just want to be Imperial Champion, I need to be.
I need this championship over my shoulder because fundamentally, at my core before anything else, I am a professional wrestler. I need this belt because, contrary to whether I may or may not be secure in my own abilities and accomplishments this simplistic piece of leather of gold plate is, if nothing else, a symbol. The Imperial Championship symbolises, to the world, that I, Roberto Verona, am standing tall at the peak of our profession and anybody who desires to argue to the contrary is forced to stand toe to toe with me and prove that assertion incorrect.
You spoke a lot about what you taught me, Jake, and I won’t deny it, you forced me to learn to adapt to this business or perish but you also taught me something far more valuable.
The importance of being selfish.
Everybody sees you differently, some see you as a grizzled veteran and others see you as a sadist for hire, but I’ve always seen you in a different light. I’ve always seen you as the man who is selfish enough to realise what you want from life, regardless of who else it may hurt or offend.
You were selfish enough to dedicate yourself to your family in the prime of your career, you were selfish enough to determine that a highly paid part time position was more beneficial for your health and happiness and, more recently, you were selfish enough to demand recompense in the form of a title shot that matched your value to this company and your recent in-ring accomplishments.
Throughout your career, you’ve been selfish enough to put yourself and those you care about first, ahead of those who perhaps could have advanced your career in the short term. You taught me that ultimately, what matters, is that I do what I want with my life, no matter the consequences and critics be damned.
So I stopped writing cheques and biting my tongue and I started doing what I always did best. What I always lived for. Fuelling my desire to prove to the world just how damn good I am and revolutionising this business from the front lines not the office, and for that, I required a symbol.
The symbol I wear over my shoulder.
I needed to prove a point to myself that, despite my absence, I could still lace up my boots and prove to the world what a true professional wrestler looks like and that true change needs men like me. A man who takes what he wants, when he wants, in whatever way he damn so pleases. That this business wasn’t limply surrendering itself to an entitled elite who holds companies hostage to their demands because somehow they’ve managed to sell the lie that they cannot survive without them.
So this weekend, I also need to do everything in my power to beat you.
I need to prove to the world that it’s still possible for two men who deserve to be on the ultimate platform to go out there, fight with everything they have in their soul, beat each other black and blue until one of them cannot stand any longer.
I need this belt to be wrapped around the waists of men who can restore people’s faith in the apex of professional wrestling, who will create change by their actions, not their wishes.
Luckily for me, I have the consolation that if I should fail, I will be passing that torch to the only man who I trust completely to be capable of accomplishing that goal. A man who I know needs to be Imperial champion just as much as I do, for whatever his personal motivations.
The man who never doubted me.
The man who always believed in me.
The man who, no matter what happens inside that ring on Sunday, I am proud to call my friend.
Well howdy there pardner.