Post by Mike Laszlo on Jul 21, 2013 13:00:24 GMT
There’s a lot that has happened this week and a lot that has been said by all parties involved in this Heir To The Throne tournament. Do you know what they all have in common besides the fact that they are merely empty words spoken by desperate men?
They all make me laugh.
From Cable to Joe, to the man who will stand across the ring from me in the Semi-Final match this Sunday Lex Sense. They did as I predicted and each in their own way tried his absolute hardest to break my mental will. That’s what we do around here isn’t it?
Yes?
No?
I vote no.
I vote no because that’s not what I try to do during the week. I wait til the show, more specifically the match, and I break you mentally as well as physically.
So as the banter went on and on, I listened and heard one thing in common between the two men in the other semi-final match and I have to admit that I did chuckle quite a bit on the inside. You see, both Cable and Joe have said that they hope Lex breaks me. They hope he wins so that they can take on the so-called monster and prove their worth.
That’s their fantasy. You two can continue on with that little fairy tale all you want, just don’t forget to turn the page to the chapter that the rest of us live in…reality.
The reality of things is that the two of you know that if I stepped into the ring with either one of you in a one on one affair that the results would be catastrophic for either of you. We would get in the ring and I would outperform you in every aspect of the compound word. That and that alone is the true reason that either of the two of you want Lex to beat me Sunday Night. It has nothing to do with “wanting to be the best” or “wanting to settle old scores”. Because if that is indeed what this was about, then you two would have to wait in line because I have a score of my own to settle with the behemoth.
That said, I tell you to issue your challenges to Lex some other time, preferably not my time because only then will they matter. Your illusions of superiority and grandeur all come crashing down in a flaming heap before your feet as you fail to meet both the mental and physical challenge that is the Heir To The Throne Tournament, and as you sit their beaten…defeated, remember this day to its smallest of details, for this is the day that your delusions began to dissolve along with any and all relevance you may possess.
You can hope for the giant all you want, but when you’re done beating up each other, and one of you happens to be the unlucky son of a bitch to find himself in the finals with me, know that right here and now, on this day, this very second, I am letting you know that the road to the Imperial Title goes through one man and one man only…Mike Laszlo.
====================
Title: What Needs To Be Done
Location: Cleveland, Ohio
Time: 7:25 AM Local Time
Dennis Lancerelli: GET UP! BELIEVE IN YOURSELF! YOU’RE THE ONLY DAMN ONE WHO DOES!
He had just blasted me with a straight, stiff kick to the face that knocked me on my ass. He was trying to push across a point with his words, each one fueling me to get back to my feet. Each word was to be used as motivation both now and this Sunday.
Dennis Lancerelli: YOU’RE A LOSER! YOU LOST TO VERONA THREE STRAIGHT TIMES YOU ARROGANT ASS!
Those words, you know, the same repetitive thing that everyone and their mother has used literally since the day I got here…safe to say…they pissed me off. I got up from the mat and was taunted some more.
Dennis Lancerelli: OH SO THAT’S WHAT GETS TO YOU LOSER!
Before he could say another word, I charged in, only to be sidestepped, but then caught myself on the ropes and blasted Dennis in the face with a kick of my own. The difference being…he was out cold.
Mike Laszlo: D?
I looked down at the man as he laid their unconscious. I’ll never tell him this personally, but a smile arose on my face. I knew that the aggression that made me who I was before had returned. Before today, since the IWF’s inception I had always “sparred” with people. I never actually beat them down. I never went for the kill. This time was different. This time he taunted me with his ignorant words as did the competitors in the Heir to the Throne. He ate his words and so will they. Looking down, and not bothering to help him, even though he was a friend, I took the gloves off and tossed them over the top rope. I started to slowly remove the tape from my wrists before I heard a groan. Slowly I turned and looked over my right shoulder to see the fallen man rising to his feet.
Dennis Lancerelli: D-d-damn man. Did you really have to kick my head off?
Mike Laszlo: Yes.
Dennis Lancerelli: What the hell for?
Mike Laszlo: Purpose. Understanding.
Dennis Lancerelli: Understanding of what?
Mike Laszlo: Merciless…ruthless…AGGRESSION.
Dennis Lancerelli: Well you have that down packed.
Mike Laszlo: Do I?
Dennis Lancerelli: You literally just knocked me out in a sparring match.
Mike Laszlo: That’s what needs to be done. The war of words is coming to an end. This Sunday is what it is all about. That night starts a new era for both the IWF and myself.
Dennis Lancerelli: Whatever you say.
He turned to exit the ring. His discouraging words were enough to piss me off just a little bit more. I walked across the ring, tape dangling from my limbs, spun him around, lifted him in the air, and delivered the Malicious Intent with a stiff knee that actually connected flesh with his jaw. He was out as he fell backwards, through the ropes, and through a table positioned on the outside that had the water bottles and towels on it. The commotion caused a stir as Alexis came running down to see what was going on.
Alexis Caffrey: What the…oh my God.
She rushed to his aid and tried her best to wake him up. She popped up off the ground and ran into the bathroom area. From the medicine cabinet she pulled some smelling salt and waved it past his nostrils. After a moment he came to and started to stir. She looked up at me as he struggled to return to a state of normalcy.
Alexis Caffrey: What the hell was that?
Mike Laszlo: Aggression. I didn’t like what was coming out of his mouth.
Alexis Caffrey: Oh, so if I criticize you, are you going to stick your knee in my face too?
Mike Laszlo: Of course not. This isn’t a big deal. Let it be.
Alexis Caffrey: Let it be? You just knocked him unconscious, and broke a table in the basement.
She didn’t understand what was going on. She has never had something as much on the line as I did this Sunday. I want that Imperial Title so badly that I’m willing to step in that ring with Lex Sense and take him places he’s never gone before. I can’t hesitate…I WON’T hesitate.
Mike Laszlo: I’ll buy a new table.
Alexis Caffrey: That’s your concern? The table? What about your friend?
Mike Laszlo: I’ve knocked him out plenty of times. He’ll get over it.
Dennis gets back to his feet and shakes his head from side to side in an attempt to dislodge the cobwebs. He puts his hand on her shoulder and nods affirmatively.
Dennis Lancerelli: It’s okay. This is what I’ve been trying to coax out of him since Tuesday. This is what he needed. He cared too much when in the end, he need not care at all. This is what I wanted, and I knew the consequences.
I could tell she was worried. After all, she had never seen me in this frame of mind before. I’ve always been one to work hard, but lately I’ve taken it to a whole new level, one she has yet to experience. She looked at both of us and then shook her head.
Alexis Caffrey: You guys are nuts.
She then rolled under the bottom rope and got to her feet. She walked up to me as I continued to breathe heavy from the strenuous workout. She put her hands on my chest as it pushed out and retracted with each breath I took. She looked in my eyes, and for a moment, there were no words spoken. No words were needed. She stood on her tip toes and gave me a kiss. Slowly she lowered herself down, not removing her gaze from me the entire time.
Alexis Caffrey: Just be careful.
Mike Laszlo: I will.
She got out of the ring and headed back up the steps, all along, staring at me cautiously as if I had just killed a man in front of her. As the door closed, I looked down at Dennis who after a minute, had a smile on his face.
Dennis Lancerelli: You know she cares about you right?
Mike Laszlo: I do. What’s your point?
Dennis Lancerelli: My point is, let her be your anchor. Let her keep you down to earth. I’ve watched your promos, and I have to say that you are the most arrogant asshole I’ve ever seen. People beat you and you still proclaim to be the best. People have bested you and yet you are still better. It doesn’t make sense dude. These people in IWF, the ones who watch, sure some of them know your past, but until you prove it to them here…in this place, you’re nothing.
Mike Laszlo: Did that fall knock all your brain cells loose?
Dennis Lancerelli: Far from it. You have every gift a wrestler can ask for. Every gift a man could ask for. You’re talents inside that ring are so great that I believe if you reach your ceiling, there’s not a man on that roster who can touch you.
Mike Laszlo: I thought we weren’t inflating my ego. You’re not doing too great a job.
Dennis Lancerelli: I’m not saying this to inflate your ego Mike. I’m saying it because it is the truth. You can out wrestle anybody when you apply yourself. You can brawl with the best of them. We all know damn well that you can talk your way out of or into any situation you see fit. One of the obstacles you have yet to overcome is yourself. You need that sense of balance. That sense of groundedness. You need humility. You can talk up the game all you want, but if you can’t play, it means nothing. Wrestling isn’t about who can be the most brash. It’s not about who can boast the most. Wrestling is the art of performing, and to be the best, you go out there in front of thousands of people, or hundreds of people and you take those God given gifts, and use them to the highest of your ability. Only then will you truly be able to call yourself…the best.
I stand in the center of the ring ripping off the remaining pieces of tape from my arms as the words spoken sink into the pores of my brain. The information processed quicker than any computer could ever do. I understood what he was saying. I got “IT” as they say. Now it was time to apply “it”.
Mike Laszlo: You know you sounded like a fortune cookie right?
Dennis Lancerelli: Shut up. Let’s get something to eat.
The mood was quickly lightened as I exited the ring. The two of us headed up the stairs as the scene faded on a plaque on the wall.
”The battle isn’t what it’s about. The war is what must be won.”
====================
Perceptions are a funny thing. What people perceive of one another is based on observation, judgment, and opinion. There are some in this world who try mercilessly to shove their opinions down the throat of others only to in the end cause judgment upon themselves.
For weeks on end, every opponent I’ve had since the beginning of IWF has mentioned the fact that I had three straight opportunities at a World Title only to fail each time to capture the gold. Hell, there have been times, like last week, that I wasn’t even on the card, and yet it was still mentioned. The perception is that because I failed those three times, I am worthless. I’m the one guy who can talk with the best of them, but when it comes down to it, I’m nothing more than a punching bag for those who see themselves as superior.
Perception is skewed. The perception of me is certainly skewed. You see for three months I tried my hand at beating a man that dominated an entire company for the better part of a year, and I ask unto all of these ignorant people with their opinions of me…where were you? Where was your opportunity to do better? How did you do better? Let’s take this week for instance. The other three men in this tournament. Joe Everyman?
Where were you?
How did you fair against that same man?
You didn’t?
You didn’t get a shot?
You didn’t get a shot because I hogged the lime light?
You didn’t get a shot because there was no better challenger than myself for three straight months?
Surely you would have done better though right?
You, who couldn’t muster a single victory over inferior competition until last week would have done better than me. You would have beaten that man and lived the glorious life.
Joe, I’ve heard your opponent, and I’ve heard mine, and I’ve heard everyone else you have faced since you joined the IWF. They believe in you Joe. They believe you can achieve what you set out to achieve so many years ago. They believe that you can climb that mountain top, stand at the peak and raise that Imperial Title high over your head.
I don’t.
I don’t believe in you Joe. This is the truth and it hurts more than anything you’ve ever been or ever will be put through for the rest of your entire life.
YOU AREN’T GOOD ENOUGH JOE!
You weren’t then and you aren’t now.
You can climb the mountain all you want, but you will never reach the peak.
You will never stake your claim as the best professional wrestler in the entire world.
For you see Joe, as long as you’ve been here, there’s always been somebody better. As much as you’ve reached summits of the mountain, there’s always been someone at the next step to take his foot and shove it squarely back in your face, sending you plummeting to the rocky base of the mountain. Each time you get back to your feet and you keep going. Your “heart” keeps you going. It’s admirable in the eyes of a few, or in your case, the many. To those who matter, at least those who will tell you to your face…it’s stupid.
The world wants to believe in Joe Everyman.
The world wants you to climb that mountain and stake your flag into the ground.
They want you to succeed.
That’s what “they” want.
What I want, if for Joe Everyman to get kicked in the face one more time. I want him to fall to the base of the mountain where there’s a mirror sitting. I want him to take a look in that mirror and ask himself, “Why?” Then when the answer finally hits you square in the face; when you realize that you just aren’t good enough; I want you to take your tail and tuck it between your legs. I want you to turn around. I want you to leave.
The story of Joe Everyman will come to a crashing halt, and I will be there to enjoy every minute of it.
That brings me to the man who has the chance to start your downfall, Cable Arcane.
Your approach of things is rather unsettling. You say you care not of my past, but brought up my “stumbles” almost immediately. We won’t contradict that anymore will we?
Here’s the facts Jack and they play into the fantasy world rather nicely.
You know I’m a threat; you just don’t want to fully admit it, because it’s not what you want.
You want to live in fairy tale land where the knight in shining armor defeats the evil monster. You want to be the knight who takes down the dragon known as Lex Sense.
As noble as that may be, it just can’t be truth. It is the imagination of a green, up and comer with notions of grandeur and recognition.
Mere weeks ago you were a Tag Team Specialist wanting to prove himself to the world. You came out of Angel’s academy blazing fire. You were then taken out of your element and thrust into the spotlight. You were entered into the Battle Royal and given the opportunity to do something much grander then winning the Tag Titles with the help of another.
You were and have been given the opportunity to etch your name in gold as the first ever Imperial Champion. The chance to rise through the ranks like no other before you has ever done. The chance to prove that you are worthy of being called the top dog.
Facts are facts though.
You’re not worthy. Your name will not be etched in stone let alone gold as anything. When the IWF closes its doors in a distant time, far beyond any of our careers, your name will only be written in the smallest of type, the slightest of fonts as a footnote of what is to come. An era that is not to be stopped yet should be distinguished from any other in every way.
You’ve made it this far and for that, I commend you. Your skills are good, but they are not great. To be the Imperial Champion, to be the best, you have to beat the best. You can’t…I will.
This brings me to my opponent this Sunday in the Semi-Finals…Lex Sense.
The new beast that I once knew, yet now have not a clue, right?
It’s hilarious, the whole illusions of grandeur, the proposal of claiming to be something that one is not.
Lex, the other two in this tournament view you as the monster. They view you as the bad guy who stole their candy and now they want it back. One wants to face you because you’re an inexplicable monster, and he wants to be the one to bring you down. The other wants to face you to avenge some wrong done to him some time ago. I have no grand reason to fight you.
You’re a mammoth of a man with unwavering power, who could go on a tear like none other, and yet I plan on doing with you what I’ve done with everyone else, standing across that ring from you and competing.
The other two in this match view you as a myth, a figment of something lost to each. I view you as a man. The reason I want to fight you Lex…you’re the man on the card across from me. The ledger says Mike Laszlo versus Lex Sense, and that alone is reason enough for me to hear my music play, step through that curtain, and stare into your eyes, knowing full well that this Sunday is going to be a battle.
You make these outrageous claims of being the personification of all things light and dark, good and evil, black and white. Lex, your portrayal has no base.
This isn’t the world of comics. This isn’t some sitcom on television.
The facts are just that…facts.
There is no good and evil, no light and dark, there just is. I exist in the realm of gray. The realm where black and white can mix, and often do to create situations and scenarios that go far beyond the simple terms of black and white.
You say you’re not Spike Kane, not Roberto Verona, and you’re right…they’re better than you.
They’re on a level that you only wish you could ascend to.
They’re on a level I PLAN to ascend to.
This Sunday, your empire that you built on the victims you’ve piled up comes crashing down like a load of bricks when I add the roof to your household. I plant you on the top of that heap and watch as it all crumbles to the ground. Then I move on and defeat whoever survives from the other Semi-Final match; and you know what you’ll be Lex…do you?
Nothing, because your just the other name that sits across from mine on the card.
You are no myth.
You are no legend.
To me, you’re nothing but a stepping stone in my ascent to greatness.
They all make me laugh.
From Cable to Joe, to the man who will stand across the ring from me in the Semi-Final match this Sunday Lex Sense. They did as I predicted and each in their own way tried his absolute hardest to break my mental will. That’s what we do around here isn’t it?
Yes?
No?
I vote no.
I vote no because that’s not what I try to do during the week. I wait til the show, more specifically the match, and I break you mentally as well as physically.
So as the banter went on and on, I listened and heard one thing in common between the two men in the other semi-final match and I have to admit that I did chuckle quite a bit on the inside. You see, both Cable and Joe have said that they hope Lex breaks me. They hope he wins so that they can take on the so-called monster and prove their worth.
That’s their fantasy. You two can continue on with that little fairy tale all you want, just don’t forget to turn the page to the chapter that the rest of us live in…reality.
The reality of things is that the two of you know that if I stepped into the ring with either one of you in a one on one affair that the results would be catastrophic for either of you. We would get in the ring and I would outperform you in every aspect of the compound word. That and that alone is the true reason that either of the two of you want Lex to beat me Sunday Night. It has nothing to do with “wanting to be the best” or “wanting to settle old scores”. Because if that is indeed what this was about, then you two would have to wait in line because I have a score of my own to settle with the behemoth.
That said, I tell you to issue your challenges to Lex some other time, preferably not my time because only then will they matter. Your illusions of superiority and grandeur all come crashing down in a flaming heap before your feet as you fail to meet both the mental and physical challenge that is the Heir To The Throne Tournament, and as you sit their beaten…defeated, remember this day to its smallest of details, for this is the day that your delusions began to dissolve along with any and all relevance you may possess.
You can hope for the giant all you want, but when you’re done beating up each other, and one of you happens to be the unlucky son of a bitch to find himself in the finals with me, know that right here and now, on this day, this very second, I am letting you know that the road to the Imperial Title goes through one man and one man only…Mike Laszlo.
====================
Title: What Needs To Be Done
Location: Cleveland, Ohio
Time: 7:25 AM Local Time
Dennis Lancerelli: GET UP! BELIEVE IN YOURSELF! YOU’RE THE ONLY DAMN ONE WHO DOES!
He had just blasted me with a straight, stiff kick to the face that knocked me on my ass. He was trying to push across a point with his words, each one fueling me to get back to my feet. Each word was to be used as motivation both now and this Sunday.
Dennis Lancerelli: YOU’RE A LOSER! YOU LOST TO VERONA THREE STRAIGHT TIMES YOU ARROGANT ASS!
Those words, you know, the same repetitive thing that everyone and their mother has used literally since the day I got here…safe to say…they pissed me off. I got up from the mat and was taunted some more.
Dennis Lancerelli: OH SO THAT’S WHAT GETS TO YOU LOSER!
Before he could say another word, I charged in, only to be sidestepped, but then caught myself on the ropes and blasted Dennis in the face with a kick of my own. The difference being…he was out cold.
Mike Laszlo: D?
I looked down at the man as he laid their unconscious. I’ll never tell him this personally, but a smile arose on my face. I knew that the aggression that made me who I was before had returned. Before today, since the IWF’s inception I had always “sparred” with people. I never actually beat them down. I never went for the kill. This time was different. This time he taunted me with his ignorant words as did the competitors in the Heir to the Throne. He ate his words and so will they. Looking down, and not bothering to help him, even though he was a friend, I took the gloves off and tossed them over the top rope. I started to slowly remove the tape from my wrists before I heard a groan. Slowly I turned and looked over my right shoulder to see the fallen man rising to his feet.
Dennis Lancerelli: D-d-damn man. Did you really have to kick my head off?
Mike Laszlo: Yes.
Dennis Lancerelli: What the hell for?
Mike Laszlo: Purpose. Understanding.
Dennis Lancerelli: Understanding of what?
Mike Laszlo: Merciless…ruthless…AGGRESSION.
Dennis Lancerelli: Well you have that down packed.
Mike Laszlo: Do I?
Dennis Lancerelli: You literally just knocked me out in a sparring match.
Mike Laszlo: That’s what needs to be done. The war of words is coming to an end. This Sunday is what it is all about. That night starts a new era for both the IWF and myself.
Dennis Lancerelli: Whatever you say.
He turned to exit the ring. His discouraging words were enough to piss me off just a little bit more. I walked across the ring, tape dangling from my limbs, spun him around, lifted him in the air, and delivered the Malicious Intent with a stiff knee that actually connected flesh with his jaw. He was out as he fell backwards, through the ropes, and through a table positioned on the outside that had the water bottles and towels on it. The commotion caused a stir as Alexis came running down to see what was going on.
Alexis Caffrey: What the…oh my God.
She rushed to his aid and tried her best to wake him up. She popped up off the ground and ran into the bathroom area. From the medicine cabinet she pulled some smelling salt and waved it past his nostrils. After a moment he came to and started to stir. She looked up at me as he struggled to return to a state of normalcy.
Alexis Caffrey: What the hell was that?
Mike Laszlo: Aggression. I didn’t like what was coming out of his mouth.
Alexis Caffrey: Oh, so if I criticize you, are you going to stick your knee in my face too?
Mike Laszlo: Of course not. This isn’t a big deal. Let it be.
Alexis Caffrey: Let it be? You just knocked him unconscious, and broke a table in the basement.
She didn’t understand what was going on. She has never had something as much on the line as I did this Sunday. I want that Imperial Title so badly that I’m willing to step in that ring with Lex Sense and take him places he’s never gone before. I can’t hesitate…I WON’T hesitate.
Mike Laszlo: I’ll buy a new table.
Alexis Caffrey: That’s your concern? The table? What about your friend?
Mike Laszlo: I’ve knocked him out plenty of times. He’ll get over it.
Dennis gets back to his feet and shakes his head from side to side in an attempt to dislodge the cobwebs. He puts his hand on her shoulder and nods affirmatively.
Dennis Lancerelli: It’s okay. This is what I’ve been trying to coax out of him since Tuesday. This is what he needed. He cared too much when in the end, he need not care at all. This is what I wanted, and I knew the consequences.
I could tell she was worried. After all, she had never seen me in this frame of mind before. I’ve always been one to work hard, but lately I’ve taken it to a whole new level, one she has yet to experience. She looked at both of us and then shook her head.
Alexis Caffrey: You guys are nuts.
She then rolled under the bottom rope and got to her feet. She walked up to me as I continued to breathe heavy from the strenuous workout. She put her hands on my chest as it pushed out and retracted with each breath I took. She looked in my eyes, and for a moment, there were no words spoken. No words were needed. She stood on her tip toes and gave me a kiss. Slowly she lowered herself down, not removing her gaze from me the entire time.
Alexis Caffrey: Just be careful.
Mike Laszlo: I will.
She got out of the ring and headed back up the steps, all along, staring at me cautiously as if I had just killed a man in front of her. As the door closed, I looked down at Dennis who after a minute, had a smile on his face.
Dennis Lancerelli: You know she cares about you right?
Mike Laszlo: I do. What’s your point?
Dennis Lancerelli: My point is, let her be your anchor. Let her keep you down to earth. I’ve watched your promos, and I have to say that you are the most arrogant asshole I’ve ever seen. People beat you and you still proclaim to be the best. People have bested you and yet you are still better. It doesn’t make sense dude. These people in IWF, the ones who watch, sure some of them know your past, but until you prove it to them here…in this place, you’re nothing.
Mike Laszlo: Did that fall knock all your brain cells loose?
Dennis Lancerelli: Far from it. You have every gift a wrestler can ask for. Every gift a man could ask for. You’re talents inside that ring are so great that I believe if you reach your ceiling, there’s not a man on that roster who can touch you.
Mike Laszlo: I thought we weren’t inflating my ego. You’re not doing too great a job.
Dennis Lancerelli: I’m not saying this to inflate your ego Mike. I’m saying it because it is the truth. You can out wrestle anybody when you apply yourself. You can brawl with the best of them. We all know damn well that you can talk your way out of or into any situation you see fit. One of the obstacles you have yet to overcome is yourself. You need that sense of balance. That sense of groundedness. You need humility. You can talk up the game all you want, but if you can’t play, it means nothing. Wrestling isn’t about who can be the most brash. It’s not about who can boast the most. Wrestling is the art of performing, and to be the best, you go out there in front of thousands of people, or hundreds of people and you take those God given gifts, and use them to the highest of your ability. Only then will you truly be able to call yourself…the best.
I stand in the center of the ring ripping off the remaining pieces of tape from my arms as the words spoken sink into the pores of my brain. The information processed quicker than any computer could ever do. I understood what he was saying. I got “IT” as they say. Now it was time to apply “it”.
Mike Laszlo: You know you sounded like a fortune cookie right?
Dennis Lancerelli: Shut up. Let’s get something to eat.
The mood was quickly lightened as I exited the ring. The two of us headed up the stairs as the scene faded on a plaque on the wall.
”The battle isn’t what it’s about. The war is what must be won.”
====================
Perceptions are a funny thing. What people perceive of one another is based on observation, judgment, and opinion. There are some in this world who try mercilessly to shove their opinions down the throat of others only to in the end cause judgment upon themselves.
For weeks on end, every opponent I’ve had since the beginning of IWF has mentioned the fact that I had three straight opportunities at a World Title only to fail each time to capture the gold. Hell, there have been times, like last week, that I wasn’t even on the card, and yet it was still mentioned. The perception is that because I failed those three times, I am worthless. I’m the one guy who can talk with the best of them, but when it comes down to it, I’m nothing more than a punching bag for those who see themselves as superior.
Perception is skewed. The perception of me is certainly skewed. You see for three months I tried my hand at beating a man that dominated an entire company for the better part of a year, and I ask unto all of these ignorant people with their opinions of me…where were you? Where was your opportunity to do better? How did you do better? Let’s take this week for instance. The other three men in this tournament. Joe Everyman?
Where were you?
How did you fair against that same man?
You didn’t?
You didn’t get a shot?
You didn’t get a shot because I hogged the lime light?
You didn’t get a shot because there was no better challenger than myself for three straight months?
Surely you would have done better though right?
You, who couldn’t muster a single victory over inferior competition until last week would have done better than me. You would have beaten that man and lived the glorious life.
Joe, I’ve heard your opponent, and I’ve heard mine, and I’ve heard everyone else you have faced since you joined the IWF. They believe in you Joe. They believe you can achieve what you set out to achieve so many years ago. They believe that you can climb that mountain top, stand at the peak and raise that Imperial Title high over your head.
I don’t.
I don’t believe in you Joe. This is the truth and it hurts more than anything you’ve ever been or ever will be put through for the rest of your entire life.
YOU AREN’T GOOD ENOUGH JOE!
You weren’t then and you aren’t now.
You can climb the mountain all you want, but you will never reach the peak.
You will never stake your claim as the best professional wrestler in the entire world.
For you see Joe, as long as you’ve been here, there’s always been somebody better. As much as you’ve reached summits of the mountain, there’s always been someone at the next step to take his foot and shove it squarely back in your face, sending you plummeting to the rocky base of the mountain. Each time you get back to your feet and you keep going. Your “heart” keeps you going. It’s admirable in the eyes of a few, or in your case, the many. To those who matter, at least those who will tell you to your face…it’s stupid.
The world wants to believe in Joe Everyman.
The world wants you to climb that mountain and stake your flag into the ground.
They want you to succeed.
That’s what “they” want.
What I want, if for Joe Everyman to get kicked in the face one more time. I want him to fall to the base of the mountain where there’s a mirror sitting. I want him to take a look in that mirror and ask himself, “Why?” Then when the answer finally hits you square in the face; when you realize that you just aren’t good enough; I want you to take your tail and tuck it between your legs. I want you to turn around. I want you to leave.
The story of Joe Everyman will come to a crashing halt, and I will be there to enjoy every minute of it.
That brings me to the man who has the chance to start your downfall, Cable Arcane.
Your approach of things is rather unsettling. You say you care not of my past, but brought up my “stumbles” almost immediately. We won’t contradict that anymore will we?
Here’s the facts Jack and they play into the fantasy world rather nicely.
You know I’m a threat; you just don’t want to fully admit it, because it’s not what you want.
You want to live in fairy tale land where the knight in shining armor defeats the evil monster. You want to be the knight who takes down the dragon known as Lex Sense.
As noble as that may be, it just can’t be truth. It is the imagination of a green, up and comer with notions of grandeur and recognition.
Mere weeks ago you were a Tag Team Specialist wanting to prove himself to the world. You came out of Angel’s academy blazing fire. You were then taken out of your element and thrust into the spotlight. You were entered into the Battle Royal and given the opportunity to do something much grander then winning the Tag Titles with the help of another.
You were and have been given the opportunity to etch your name in gold as the first ever Imperial Champion. The chance to rise through the ranks like no other before you has ever done. The chance to prove that you are worthy of being called the top dog.
Facts are facts though.
You’re not worthy. Your name will not be etched in stone let alone gold as anything. When the IWF closes its doors in a distant time, far beyond any of our careers, your name will only be written in the smallest of type, the slightest of fonts as a footnote of what is to come. An era that is not to be stopped yet should be distinguished from any other in every way.
You’ve made it this far and for that, I commend you. Your skills are good, but they are not great. To be the Imperial Champion, to be the best, you have to beat the best. You can’t…I will.
This brings me to my opponent this Sunday in the Semi-Finals…Lex Sense.
The new beast that I once knew, yet now have not a clue, right?
It’s hilarious, the whole illusions of grandeur, the proposal of claiming to be something that one is not.
Lex, the other two in this tournament view you as the monster. They view you as the bad guy who stole their candy and now they want it back. One wants to face you because you’re an inexplicable monster, and he wants to be the one to bring you down. The other wants to face you to avenge some wrong done to him some time ago. I have no grand reason to fight you.
You’re a mammoth of a man with unwavering power, who could go on a tear like none other, and yet I plan on doing with you what I’ve done with everyone else, standing across that ring from you and competing.
The other two in this match view you as a myth, a figment of something lost to each. I view you as a man. The reason I want to fight you Lex…you’re the man on the card across from me. The ledger says Mike Laszlo versus Lex Sense, and that alone is reason enough for me to hear my music play, step through that curtain, and stare into your eyes, knowing full well that this Sunday is going to be a battle.
You make these outrageous claims of being the personification of all things light and dark, good and evil, black and white. Lex, your portrayal has no base.
This isn’t the world of comics. This isn’t some sitcom on television.
The facts are just that…facts.
There is no good and evil, no light and dark, there just is. I exist in the realm of gray. The realm where black and white can mix, and often do to create situations and scenarios that go far beyond the simple terms of black and white.
You say you’re not Spike Kane, not Roberto Verona, and you’re right…they’re better than you.
They’re on a level that you only wish you could ascend to.
They’re on a level I PLAN to ascend to.
This Sunday, your empire that you built on the victims you’ve piled up comes crashing down like a load of bricks when I add the roof to your household. I plant you on the top of that heap and watch as it all crumbles to the ground. Then I move on and defeat whoever survives from the other Semi-Final match; and you know what you’ll be Lex…do you?
Nothing, because your just the other name that sits across from mine on the card.
You are no myth.
You are no legend.
To me, you’re nothing but a stepping stone in my ascent to greatness.
Well howdy there pardner.