Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Mar 22, 2017 0:48:42 GMT
When you agree to do something a certain way, there's an expectation that you'll be held to your words. When you sign a contract, you're being held to the terms of that contract. Professional wrestling's no different. You sign a match, you agree to do things a certain way. Sometimes, you'll agree to things you don't necessarily want or believe in, just to get that match, and you've got to labor under those conditions that you put on yourself. I asked for a God of Steel Match with Spike Kane because I wanted one last shot to get into his head, to snap him out of his condition. I've agreed to matches with stipulations I didn't want because the end outcome was worth it to me. Did I shy away from them? No. I squared up, and I did what I had to.
If you asked a random person off the street if they'd like to spend hundreds of days a year on the road, away from home, traveling all over the world, working late nights and early mornings, waking up in a new hotel room seemingly every day, bruising themselves, bleeding, twisting and suffering...if you asked them if they'd do that to themselves, chances are they'd say no. But we have to. That's why we're in this business. We're here because we can do what it takes to make it to the top. The Roulette is a high mountain to summit, but I want to be on top again, and if I'm going to get there, I have to climb that mountain.
I've wrestled matches like this before. I'm not completely clueless, I know what to expect. But...I have a match earlier in the night. Not just any match, a God of Steel match. It's going to be a question of whether either of us even gets to the ring. I'm going to use every ounce of strength in my body, every bit of defiance and anger and dedication I can muster, to make that happen, because I don't want to wait another year. I've put in my time, I've done my duty. Now's the moment where it all finally pays off.
Week in, week out, I put my shoulder to the plow and I bull forward, and I see people leapfrog me in line for shots at the big time because they've cooked up a reason to get the champion angry at them. Every time that happens, it eats at me. Every single time. That's not how we're supposed to do things, that's not the way this goes. We're athletes, we're competitors, we're supposed to fight for everything we get! Muhammad Ali talked a mountain of trash, but when he got in the ring, he backed it up! He didn't contrive his way into a World Title fight, he went out there and against the hate of the world he MADE THEM recognize his worth!
I don't have to fight that. I don't have to fight his fight, God bless him. I have my own fight uphill, a fight against a perception that settled in a long time ago and I haven't been able to shatter no matter how hard I fight. The Roulette gives me a chance to spin the wheel and strike it just right. I'll need luck, I'll need every single bit of skill I have, and I'll need to fight like a man possessed, but I promise...from the bottom of my heart, that is exactly what you'll get from me.
It's what I do. It's who I am. I don't believe in half-measures, not in times like this. We fight hard, we fight clean, we fight with all we have, and we do what we're meant to, the way it's been for decades. That's the thing that I don't think a lot of people get anymore. We're not just making this up as we go. We are the heirs to a tradition that stretches back to the turn of the century, and no matter how much we reinvent the wheel, we're still standing on the stones they laid. Still between the ropes, still trying to prove who the better competitor is...same as it ever was.
And you know what? If that makes me old-fashioned, so be it. If that means I do things that endanger myself for the sake of doing them properly, I'll gladly suffer through that. I would rather be right than smart ten times out of ten. So yeah, maybe entering the Roulette isn't smart. But the chance to set the Imperial Title on a proper course, to set things straight?
That's the right thing to do. And that's what I'm doing.
Andrew and Danielle walk into a coffee shop in St. Louis, Danielle looking professional as usual and Andrew opting for a more casual look. As they enter the shop, a young man stands up from one of the tables, offering a handshake to both of them with a smile. "Andrew, Danielle, so good to meet you. I'm Mick Pridewell, with The Pulse Wrestling. Please, sit down."
Andrew pulls out two chairs from the table that Pridewell was sitting at, offering one to Danielle. She grins, rolling her eyes as she sits down, and Andrew takes the other. Pridewell settles in across from the two, placing an iPad and a small microphone down on the table. He gestures to it with a smile. "Just so transcription later is easier. Do you mind?"
Andrew and Danielle look to each other, and Andrew shrugs. "No, I don't see why we would. This is an interview, right? We're supposed to get our words down."
Pridewell nods obligingly, tapping a button on the iPad, and begins to speak a little louder and a little more clearly. "I'm here today with two of the Imperial Wrestling Federation's more recognizable talents, the "North Star" Andrew Jacobsen, and his manager and—girlfriend? Did I get that right?—girlfriend Danielle Chase. Thanks for being here."
Danielle nods, leaning in with a slight smirk on her face. "Glad to be here. I just want to make it clear, I'm here today in my capacity as Mr. Jacobsen's manager. No personal details this time, sorry."
Pridewell snaps his fingers, a mock-disappointed look on his face. "Oh well. That's not why we're here, right? Andrew, coming up this Sunday we've got one of the biggest pay-per-views of the year, High Stakes. You've got double billing, going up against Spike Kane in a God of Steel match for the Man of Steel Championship, and as if that wasn't enough you're in the thirty-man Roulette Match for a shot at main-eventing the biggest event of the wrestling calendar, Night of the Immortals."
Andrew takes a deep breath at the mention of the God of Steel match, and Danielle leans in again, thinking quickly. "Let's focus on the Roulette. The Man of Steel Championship match is important, naturally, but we don't want to give away too much before the match itself. Just rest assured that Andrew is preparing intently for that title opportunity."
Pridewell nods, blinking slowly before resuming his train of thought. "Fair enough. Andrew, we've only seen you in one Roulette Match before, in 2015, and to be frank, your performance wasn't what people expected of you. What can we expect to see differently this year?"
Andrew clears his throat, taking the chance to speak up. "Honestly, I'm in a much different place than I was two years ago. I've got my head on straight, and I've spent a lot more time working on my conditioning. If you enter a match like the Roulette, you need to be able to ensure that you're not going to run yourself ragged out of the gate. Pretty basic, but if you don't have the basics you don't have anything."
Finally seeming to get things on the rails, Pridewell nods calmly. "Makes a lot of sense. We've got an open field this year. Is there anyone in particular you'd point to as an early pick? Besides yourself, of course, and this is for both of you."
Andrew nods, chuckling a little. "I think Devlin Raine could be a huge underdog. You don't win a tournament like the Cruiserweight Invitational by collecting bottle caps, and he's really tough to gameplan for. Anyone who underestimates him is going to be taking a trip over the top rope. And, as always, I think we're due for a return from the greatest Imperial Champion of all time, Davey Ortega."
Pridewell laughs, and Danielle rolls her eyes, leaning in. "If Andrew weren't involved, I'd be putting money down on Nighthawk. Everyone sleeps on his ability, but this is the sort of long-form showcase he thrives on. We know he can go an hour in the ring with one of the finest technical wrestlers in the world. What happens if he draws a late number? And maybe I'm biased. Maybe...but that doesn't change my vote."
Pridewell nods again, checking his notes. "Andrew, this one's for you in particular. You've had something of a personal renewal since you returned to IWF last year, really doubling down on your core values. What spurred that?"
Andrew shrugs. "Well, obviously part of it has to do with the time I spent in Japan, away from IWF. The first match I had with a Japanese promotion...the crowds are so different there. I wasn't sure what to expect, boos, cheers, what have you. What I noticed was how my opponents reacted. It was an eight-man tag match, and every time I was in there, it felt like they were trying to push my ribs through my back. I could barely breathe at the end of it all, and when I got backstage, I asked why they had been hammering me that way. Kenshiro—Kenshiro Sato, great guy—told me it was because some of them were angry about how I had been behaving in the States and on the last tour IWF did of Japan."
"Really?" Pridewell's eyebrows go up, and Andrew laughs to himself at the reaction. "They did it to teach you a lesson?"
"Absolutely." Andrew nods. "It wasn't just because I'd been loud and disrespectful, it was because I'd been that way after I'd acted like a role model before. They weren't as angry that I'd been a jerk, but that I'd been inconsistent. Let me tell you, I earned a lot of welts on those tours, and every single night I'd do the same thing. I'd thank them for our match, I'd make sure I collected all my stuff, and then I'd help the ring crew break down the ring and get everything loaded back onto the truck before we left."
Pridewell seems surprised by this revelation, unable to help but dig further. "Why'd you do that? You weren't getting paid, were you?"
Andrew shakes his head. "Paid? No. I wasn't getting paid, but I was definitely earning something for my work. I was earning back their respect. I needed to do that, not just so I could stop wincing whenever I put on a shirt but because I wanted to prove to them and myself that I could be the man I needed to be again."
Danielle nods approvingly, and Pridewell scrolls through his notes again. "Alright. Danielle, what's it been like being on the road as a manager again?"
Danielle blinks, momentarily surprised, and speaks up with a pleased note in her voice. "Well, it's great to be doing my job. I'd feel bad if I was drawing a paycheck to sit at home and watch TV. On a serious note, being on the road is unlike any other experience in the world. I've managed competitors in boxing, in mixed martial arts, and the travel schedule is completely different. I missed it, if I'm being honest. Thank you for asking."
Pridewell nods, flashing what in most situations might be able to pass itself off as a charming grin but falls somewhat flat. "One last question, for both of you, and this one's not really related. I know both of you are avid sports fans. NCAA predictions. Any thoughts?"
Danielle speaks first, wearing what could charitably be described as a mischievous grin. "Wisconsin is taking it all. Believe in the underdog."
Andrew looks over at Danielle, an expression of betrayal written across his face. "Arizona, and we're getting a divorce."
Danielle collapses into giggling, her smile truly malicious at this point. "We're not married, and I'm joking. UCLA's taking it. Honest prediction."
Pridewell grins, nodding. "Andrew Jacobsen, Danielle Chase, thank you both so much for joining me today." he reaches out, tapping the iPad again before looking up with a grin. "Alright! That went pretty well, didn't it?"
Andrew nods, shooting a hurt look over at Danielle, who just snickers again. "Yeah, it did. I think I need to fire my manager now, I appreciate the screening."
Danielle rolls her eyes. "Right, of course you do. Well, if you'll excuse us, I have a cranky Gopher I need to keep on schedule. Have to do my job, after all."
Pridewell nods, and all three stand up, exchanging handshakes. "Again, it was a pleasure."
"Absolutely. Have a great day." Andrew nods to Pridewell, and the two walk back out of the coffee shop, turning and heading down the street towards their rental car. As they clear earshot of the coffee shop, Andrew looks over to Danielle. "Wisconsin? Really? You have GOT to be kidding me..."
Danielle looks like she's about to reply, but just bursts out laughing again, shaking her head as she walks. Andrew rolls his eyes, and Danielle reaches over, tousling Andrew's hair playfully as we fade out on the couple walking down the street.
If you asked a random person off the street if they'd like to spend hundreds of days a year on the road, away from home, traveling all over the world, working late nights and early mornings, waking up in a new hotel room seemingly every day, bruising themselves, bleeding, twisting and suffering...if you asked them if they'd do that to themselves, chances are they'd say no. But we have to. That's why we're in this business. We're here because we can do what it takes to make it to the top. The Roulette is a high mountain to summit, but I want to be on top again, and if I'm going to get there, I have to climb that mountain.
I've wrestled matches like this before. I'm not completely clueless, I know what to expect. But...I have a match earlier in the night. Not just any match, a God of Steel match. It's going to be a question of whether either of us even gets to the ring. I'm going to use every ounce of strength in my body, every bit of defiance and anger and dedication I can muster, to make that happen, because I don't want to wait another year. I've put in my time, I've done my duty. Now's the moment where it all finally pays off.
Week in, week out, I put my shoulder to the plow and I bull forward, and I see people leapfrog me in line for shots at the big time because they've cooked up a reason to get the champion angry at them. Every time that happens, it eats at me. Every single time. That's not how we're supposed to do things, that's not the way this goes. We're athletes, we're competitors, we're supposed to fight for everything we get! Muhammad Ali talked a mountain of trash, but when he got in the ring, he backed it up! He didn't contrive his way into a World Title fight, he went out there and against the hate of the world he MADE THEM recognize his worth!
I don't have to fight that. I don't have to fight his fight, God bless him. I have my own fight uphill, a fight against a perception that settled in a long time ago and I haven't been able to shatter no matter how hard I fight. The Roulette gives me a chance to spin the wheel and strike it just right. I'll need luck, I'll need every single bit of skill I have, and I'll need to fight like a man possessed, but I promise...from the bottom of my heart, that is exactly what you'll get from me.
It's what I do. It's who I am. I don't believe in half-measures, not in times like this. We fight hard, we fight clean, we fight with all we have, and we do what we're meant to, the way it's been for decades. That's the thing that I don't think a lot of people get anymore. We're not just making this up as we go. We are the heirs to a tradition that stretches back to the turn of the century, and no matter how much we reinvent the wheel, we're still standing on the stones they laid. Still between the ropes, still trying to prove who the better competitor is...same as it ever was.
And you know what? If that makes me old-fashioned, so be it. If that means I do things that endanger myself for the sake of doing them properly, I'll gladly suffer through that. I would rather be right than smart ten times out of ten. So yeah, maybe entering the Roulette isn't smart. But the chance to set the Imperial Title on a proper course, to set things straight?
That's the right thing to do. And that's what I'm doing.
Andrew and Danielle walk into a coffee shop in St. Louis, Danielle looking professional as usual and Andrew opting for a more casual look. As they enter the shop, a young man stands up from one of the tables, offering a handshake to both of them with a smile. "Andrew, Danielle, so good to meet you. I'm Mick Pridewell, with The Pulse Wrestling. Please, sit down."
Andrew pulls out two chairs from the table that Pridewell was sitting at, offering one to Danielle. She grins, rolling her eyes as she sits down, and Andrew takes the other. Pridewell settles in across from the two, placing an iPad and a small microphone down on the table. He gestures to it with a smile. "Just so transcription later is easier. Do you mind?"
Andrew and Danielle look to each other, and Andrew shrugs. "No, I don't see why we would. This is an interview, right? We're supposed to get our words down."
Pridewell nods obligingly, tapping a button on the iPad, and begins to speak a little louder and a little more clearly. "I'm here today with two of the Imperial Wrestling Federation's more recognizable talents, the "North Star" Andrew Jacobsen, and his manager and—girlfriend? Did I get that right?—girlfriend Danielle Chase. Thanks for being here."
Danielle nods, leaning in with a slight smirk on her face. "Glad to be here. I just want to make it clear, I'm here today in my capacity as Mr. Jacobsen's manager. No personal details this time, sorry."
Pridewell snaps his fingers, a mock-disappointed look on his face. "Oh well. That's not why we're here, right? Andrew, coming up this Sunday we've got one of the biggest pay-per-views of the year, High Stakes. You've got double billing, going up against Spike Kane in a God of Steel match for the Man of Steel Championship, and as if that wasn't enough you're in the thirty-man Roulette Match for a shot at main-eventing the biggest event of the wrestling calendar, Night of the Immortals."
Andrew takes a deep breath at the mention of the God of Steel match, and Danielle leans in again, thinking quickly. "Let's focus on the Roulette. The Man of Steel Championship match is important, naturally, but we don't want to give away too much before the match itself. Just rest assured that Andrew is preparing intently for that title opportunity."
Pridewell nods, blinking slowly before resuming his train of thought. "Fair enough. Andrew, we've only seen you in one Roulette Match before, in 2015, and to be frank, your performance wasn't what people expected of you. What can we expect to see differently this year?"
Andrew clears his throat, taking the chance to speak up. "Honestly, I'm in a much different place than I was two years ago. I've got my head on straight, and I've spent a lot more time working on my conditioning. If you enter a match like the Roulette, you need to be able to ensure that you're not going to run yourself ragged out of the gate. Pretty basic, but if you don't have the basics you don't have anything."
Finally seeming to get things on the rails, Pridewell nods calmly. "Makes a lot of sense. We've got an open field this year. Is there anyone in particular you'd point to as an early pick? Besides yourself, of course, and this is for both of you."
Andrew nods, chuckling a little. "I think Devlin Raine could be a huge underdog. You don't win a tournament like the Cruiserweight Invitational by collecting bottle caps, and he's really tough to gameplan for. Anyone who underestimates him is going to be taking a trip over the top rope. And, as always, I think we're due for a return from the greatest Imperial Champion of all time, Davey Ortega."
Pridewell laughs, and Danielle rolls her eyes, leaning in. "If Andrew weren't involved, I'd be putting money down on Nighthawk. Everyone sleeps on his ability, but this is the sort of long-form showcase he thrives on. We know he can go an hour in the ring with one of the finest technical wrestlers in the world. What happens if he draws a late number? And maybe I'm biased. Maybe...but that doesn't change my vote."
Pridewell nods again, checking his notes. "Andrew, this one's for you in particular. You've had something of a personal renewal since you returned to IWF last year, really doubling down on your core values. What spurred that?"
Andrew shrugs. "Well, obviously part of it has to do with the time I spent in Japan, away from IWF. The first match I had with a Japanese promotion...the crowds are so different there. I wasn't sure what to expect, boos, cheers, what have you. What I noticed was how my opponents reacted. It was an eight-man tag match, and every time I was in there, it felt like they were trying to push my ribs through my back. I could barely breathe at the end of it all, and when I got backstage, I asked why they had been hammering me that way. Kenshiro—Kenshiro Sato, great guy—told me it was because some of them were angry about how I had been behaving in the States and on the last tour IWF did of Japan."
"Really?" Pridewell's eyebrows go up, and Andrew laughs to himself at the reaction. "They did it to teach you a lesson?"
"Absolutely." Andrew nods. "It wasn't just because I'd been loud and disrespectful, it was because I'd been that way after I'd acted like a role model before. They weren't as angry that I'd been a jerk, but that I'd been inconsistent. Let me tell you, I earned a lot of welts on those tours, and every single night I'd do the same thing. I'd thank them for our match, I'd make sure I collected all my stuff, and then I'd help the ring crew break down the ring and get everything loaded back onto the truck before we left."
Pridewell seems surprised by this revelation, unable to help but dig further. "Why'd you do that? You weren't getting paid, were you?"
Andrew shakes his head. "Paid? No. I wasn't getting paid, but I was definitely earning something for my work. I was earning back their respect. I needed to do that, not just so I could stop wincing whenever I put on a shirt but because I wanted to prove to them and myself that I could be the man I needed to be again."
Danielle nods approvingly, and Pridewell scrolls through his notes again. "Alright. Danielle, what's it been like being on the road as a manager again?"
Danielle blinks, momentarily surprised, and speaks up with a pleased note in her voice. "Well, it's great to be doing my job. I'd feel bad if I was drawing a paycheck to sit at home and watch TV. On a serious note, being on the road is unlike any other experience in the world. I've managed competitors in boxing, in mixed martial arts, and the travel schedule is completely different. I missed it, if I'm being honest. Thank you for asking."
Pridewell nods, flashing what in most situations might be able to pass itself off as a charming grin but falls somewhat flat. "One last question, for both of you, and this one's not really related. I know both of you are avid sports fans. NCAA predictions. Any thoughts?"
Danielle speaks first, wearing what could charitably be described as a mischievous grin. "Wisconsin is taking it all. Believe in the underdog."
Andrew looks over at Danielle, an expression of betrayal written across his face. "Arizona, and we're getting a divorce."
Danielle collapses into giggling, her smile truly malicious at this point. "We're not married, and I'm joking. UCLA's taking it. Honest prediction."
Pridewell grins, nodding. "Andrew Jacobsen, Danielle Chase, thank you both so much for joining me today." he reaches out, tapping the iPad again before looking up with a grin. "Alright! That went pretty well, didn't it?"
Andrew nods, shooting a hurt look over at Danielle, who just snickers again. "Yeah, it did. I think I need to fire my manager now, I appreciate the screening."
Danielle rolls her eyes. "Right, of course you do. Well, if you'll excuse us, I have a cranky Gopher I need to keep on schedule. Have to do my job, after all."
Pridewell nods, and all three stand up, exchanging handshakes. "Again, it was a pleasure."
"Absolutely. Have a great day." Andrew nods to Pridewell, and the two walk back out of the coffee shop, turning and heading down the street towards their rental car. As they clear earshot of the coffee shop, Andrew looks over to Danielle. "Wisconsin? Really? You have GOT to be kidding me..."
Danielle looks like she's about to reply, but just bursts out laughing again, shaking her head as she walks. Andrew rolls his eyes, and Danielle reaches over, tousling Andrew's hair playfully as we fade out on the couple walking down the street.
Well howdy there pardner.