Post by Cyrus Daniels on Mar 25, 2016 20:29:53 GMT
Wasted potential.
This is all each of you has ever seen me as.
I've been doing this for a handful of years compared to most of the rest of you, and damn near every wrestling promoter that has ever paid me to do what I do in that ring has done so only because they saw a novelty act. They just see a giant, a freak of nature, a big nasty brutish bald headed bastard...
Most of you, if you were in my position, would be offended by that because each of you see yourselves as wrestlers.
I don't, and I never have. I'm not a professional wrestler, I am a fighter. I'm a brawler at best and a thug at worst.
I openly embrace the fact that I've never had any formal training in your sport. I've never felt the need frankly. I don't need to be trained how to punch some loud-mouthed prick in the face, and for most of you that alone is enough to justify why I should have no place in this Roulette.
However loosely you choose to define this whole thing, it is still a professional wrestling match, and as such should only be won by somebody like you rather than somebody like me. Each of you have convinced yourself that only a real professional wrestler can win a thing like this, not a sideshow attraction like me.
For many of you, this is your business, not mine, and it never has been. For many of you, I'm not an athlete, I'm just a crim, and for that, I don't deserve my place in this match. That's why I'm going to enjoy making it much further in this thing than any of you expect.
I will outlast all of you, the professional wrestlers. I will outlast men who have been born and bred for this business. I will go beyond men who have trained their whole lives for moments like these, men who come into this carrying their own legacies and men who have been trained by their idols.
Not because I'm a proficient professional wrestler, but rather because I know how to throw somebody, especially if their stupid enough to get in my way.
How much wrestling skill and formal training does it really take to toss somebody over a rope, anyway?
There is no finesse to something so simple, and I think more of you know that than any of you want to admit, or else none of you would be as convinced as you all are that you can keep cheap acts like me out of seizing an opportunity like this. That's why this isn't as much about earning it as it is about stealing it from each of you.
If it just so happens that in the process of robbing each of you of your professional dreams, I take my place as the only legitimate challenger Roberto Verona will ever come face to face with, then hey, that's just how it's got to be.
He brought me back and let me run through this company on my own terms, that is how I will enter this match and that's exactly how I will leave this match too.
And when it's all over, it will not be my potential that will be in doubt, but rather all of yours.
Time was precious. It was a gift. Something worth cherishing...
These were the thoughts that were running through Cyrus Daniel's head as he jogged whilst wearing a weighted vest strapped across his chest. Today the whole exercise was more about trying to clear his head than it was about anything else.
He hadn't thought about his mother in years, and he wasn't even sure why her memory troubled him now.
She was a bitch who made her own life choices and by extension her own prison.
It wasn't his problem all those years ago, and it damn sure wasn't his problem now.
Especially since she was dead.
A life wasted, squandered and sacrificed.
Cyrus shakes his head as he keeps right on running.
This is all each of you has ever seen me as.
I've been doing this for a handful of years compared to most of the rest of you, and damn near every wrestling promoter that has ever paid me to do what I do in that ring has done so only because they saw a novelty act. They just see a giant, a freak of nature, a big nasty brutish bald headed bastard...
Most of you, if you were in my position, would be offended by that because each of you see yourselves as wrestlers.
I don't, and I never have. I'm not a professional wrestler, I am a fighter. I'm a brawler at best and a thug at worst.
I openly embrace the fact that I've never had any formal training in your sport. I've never felt the need frankly. I don't need to be trained how to punch some loud-mouthed prick in the face, and for most of you that alone is enough to justify why I should have no place in this Roulette.
However loosely you choose to define this whole thing, it is still a professional wrestling match, and as such should only be won by somebody like you rather than somebody like me. Each of you have convinced yourself that only a real professional wrestler can win a thing like this, not a sideshow attraction like me.
For many of you, this is your business, not mine, and it never has been. For many of you, I'm not an athlete, I'm just a crim, and for that, I don't deserve my place in this match. That's why I'm going to enjoy making it much further in this thing than any of you expect.
I will outlast all of you, the professional wrestlers. I will outlast men who have been born and bred for this business. I will go beyond men who have trained their whole lives for moments like these, men who come into this carrying their own legacies and men who have been trained by their idols.
Not because I'm a proficient professional wrestler, but rather because I know how to throw somebody, especially if their stupid enough to get in my way.
How much wrestling skill and formal training does it really take to toss somebody over a rope, anyway?
There is no finesse to something so simple, and I think more of you know that than any of you want to admit, or else none of you would be as convinced as you all are that you can keep cheap acts like me out of seizing an opportunity like this. That's why this isn't as much about earning it as it is about stealing it from each of you.
If it just so happens that in the process of robbing each of you of your professional dreams, I take my place as the only legitimate challenger Roberto Verona will ever come face to face with, then hey, that's just how it's got to be.
He brought me back and let me run through this company on my own terms, that is how I will enter this match and that's exactly how I will leave this match too.
And when it's all over, it will not be my potential that will be in doubt, but rather all of yours.
Time was precious. It was a gift. Something worth cherishing...
These were the thoughts that were running through Cyrus Daniel's head as he jogged whilst wearing a weighted vest strapped across his chest. Today the whole exercise was more about trying to clear his head than it was about anything else.
He hadn't thought about his mother in years, and he wasn't even sure why her memory troubled him now.
She was a bitch who made her own life choices and by extension her own prison.
It wasn't his problem all those years ago, and it damn sure wasn't his problem now.
Especially since she was dead.
A life wasted, squandered and sacrificed.
Cyrus shakes his head as he keeps right on running.
Well howdy there pardner.