Post by Savage on Nov 5, 2019 10:40:01 GMT -6
Produced in association with ShoBox, a Division of Showtime.
Narrated by: Tony Savage
The place is dead quite right now. There's a few groundskeepers doing maintenance on this gaudy Colosseum moving like cogs to keep this billion dollar machine going. This would be the third time a Falcons fan would step on the turf in Cowboy country. The last two times; 100k plus were watching me put in work for Danny's Mac's outfit.
Better days then. But that's not a story I want to tell today.
Today, I'd like to talk about evolution. I'm the first subject of this experiment in wrestling Darwinism.
Shobox was kind enough to send a crew to film me training here. On top of my ring duties, Elite FC brought me on as a Heavyweight contender in the boxing ring. Golden Viper, the Armed Forces Champ, back in the sport of kings. Nothing like Fight Night; that pageantry, that hype...
The rituals associated with it. Some folks don't respect the rituals of the fight game. They're only in it for a bit of paper and a new accessory to keep their pants up.
Hope that dig wasn't too settle. Seems these days, you have to yank a person by their collar and scream it in their face.
But ritual is important in fighting. This isn't just some payday or a platform for your clothing line. Whether it's slapping on gloves, climbing a steel cage, or waging war in a bloodbath as I'm about to do, it takes a level of liturgy and reverence for the upcoming battle. There's a procedure you have to undergo to be worthy of shining under the hot lights.
I didn't always respect my religion. I paid for my sins almost as much as I prospered from my works. Dumb beefs, squabbles with other companies, and personal troubles are an unfortunate rite of passage. But how does a creature evolve if it's not tested by its environment. or the predators that dwell in it?
Misfortune forges you just a much as fighting, or these agility ladder drills that has the sweat rolling down my skin. The things I learned to do, not to do, from disaster strengthen me more than any physical workout. Those failures made me value the sacraments one must follow to succeed in combat sports again. That's why I don't bemoan, but proclaim, it's my duty to train while others present their meandering lives on television. Why I push the issue, like I did at the end of Inferno, instead of waiting for the powers that be to feed me. This isn't just me trying to be one of the best in combat sports again...
This is me repaying everything the game gave me. Me, proving to it I'm still worthy to practice the religion.
Because, as I look around me, scan this behemoth shrine to prime time sports, I miss preaching in front of crowds like this.
I lost my religion once. Now, I'm back in the fold, and getting better and better than the golden years. Because wrestling is that rare theology...where evolution is embraced, part of the Gospel.
Pick up the pace, Antonio!
"Antonio"s throat is parched, and his legs are cooked pasta right now. Subtitles are translating what Tony's ears already deciphered: YOU were the one that wanted to do 4 hours of cardio and footwork. You brought this on your dumb self. But with his wheels feeling as they're falling off, he keeps pushing. Every inch of drumstick meat is throbbing when Arturo Gonzales blows the horn. Tony's workout gear is soaked and reeking, his hair a sopping mop-head. Boxing training adds a whole new dimension to fitness. When he peels off that shirt, all that strain is paying off. The guy is a wall of iron with scars for graffiti. And not that puffy gym swole, either. Lean, tightly packed muscle with enough gas in the tank to go longer than most grapplers dare drive.
He had to sacrifice a bit of weight and power for balance, and his coach lets him know he's still miles away from his destination.
You're getting fast, but that upper body is still stiff as a board. You have to loosen that core up...
Tony's still cooling down, getting that heart rate down. A third of that bottle of water is dumped on his head for coolant.
Fu...*checks himself*...yeah, I know. Old habit. Been so use to tossing people around...
I know. Still, we've got less than a month before Vegas, and if your feet are still bricks, you're gonna have problems. Oh, you been eating...
Mano, I told you I'm not eating that junk. Liver? Nasty. You cook that sh...stuff...this is harder than I thought...
Arturo grins a bit; privy to a secret joke. It smells like somebody lit a pile of dead dogs and tires on fire.
You'll be thanking me later in a fight. All that iron in the meat helps with blood clotting. keeps you from leaking blood all over the place.
Tony couldn't disagree with the logic. But liver...yecch!
I have to go. Sparring session tomorrow.
Still getting his heart rate down, Tony nods, playfully throwing shadow punches at the grizzled old Cuban.Estaré allí!
He was standing dead center on that blue Cowboys star. He thought about pulling a Terrel Owens and pop a Jesus pose, but, he wisely thought better. These 'Boys fans are a twitchy lot. Instead, he surveyed the surrounds, and smiled as more water poured down his throat.
Saw in one of Mumble Rapper's shoots he's got this habit of lurking about the GCWA arena before a match. Wow, how original. Then again, this guy likes to contaminate himself with the city water. Or stumble around Dallas like Cactus Jack in some bad 90's skit from one of those rigged federations. Hey, whatever. Wrestlers don't like to leave their comfort zone, expand their horizons.
I always thought that whole camping out at the spot pre Fight Night was trope. Besides, why gawk over the house you currently live in, when you can check out the home you dream of calling home?
Yeah, he missed playing in venues like this. 100k fans rolling over you like a tsunami with that energy; that is a feeling no drug could match. he wanted to bring that vibe to the G. And he wanted to bring the fed to this house, at least, for a visit or two on PPV's.
Don't get me wrong; I respect Duce, I do. He's a young cat that's done some pretty good things in the biz already. Hell, even scoped out that match with Zolton in CWF.
Wouldn't you know it; a wrestler who ACTUALLY scouts his opposition instead of firing blind. I'll mess around and start a trend. Zolton; God, I haven't seen that guy in years. Sheesh, a third of that roster is Boardwalk Wrestling alumni. Doc Smith, my boy Ataxia (Sedition for life, you crazy bas...person!) and my customized punching bag Sean Fuller. Heck, even saw Danny B lurking around on the roster. Ah, good times in Jersey, those were...
All these feds, and this biz really is a small world.
Those guys, even Sean's stupid self, they were pros. Not afraid to push envelopes and do what it took to be a cut above the rest of the Spandex wearing kids. Wish I could say the same for some of this roster. Don't get me wrong; there's quite a bit of talent in Dallas, but...
I just can't help but notice a severe lack of desire to grow past what they are, what they do. Maybe that's why I came here in the first place; to kick-start an evolutionary process. It's because of what I've done in the last few brief weeks that people are really beginning to take notice of the fed. The "new guy"Crushing opposition in the ring. Maddog; had to retrain that puppy. Look at him now; one fight with me, and that guy is revved up. Quite proud of him, actually. Took that chin checking like a true Southern man and got his act together. Adi and Fisher, I dunno. I hope their jaws aren't stained glass. Through me, we took a mid-card match and made it fight of the night.
Newcomer of the month, undefeated. And what I did last Inferno, Duce got to come along on a trip that changed the atmosphere of High Rollers. The North American title fight coming up...
That, folks, is the true main event. The final table at the Word Series of Poker. Big money round.
All that, because I made it so. I'm not downplaying what Duce has done. He's been doing good. Admittedly, some of his competition hasn't been the best. Lindsey, what a dud. And Lusus isn't quite the Gorgon he makes himself out to be. Like Mike Tyson back in the day, Duce has been monstrous against, well, iffy opposition.
But now, Evander Holyfield is next on the card. And I'm a whole different beast. I look different, train different, conduct myself in a way no GCWA does. While everybody else is content to go with the flow, I make waives. The man that can adjust his style while others remain stuck on their "I do me" kick.
That's why I drive Lambos on tour while Duce putzes around in rental Fords. Wear custom clothes while our N.A. champ is in off the rack mode. That's why I'm here building the G in my image, while Duce putzes around from town to town, being happy with what management gives him. I'm even on the path to do something with Elite Boxing no wrestler has done before; one day contend, and win, the World Heavyweight boxing championship.
I, I am evolution. The guy that's helped build or rebuild organizations for people like Mike Pettis, Kaden Kessler, and even that bald Canuck in EWC. I'm the guy that starts trends. Who starts ruling the jungle the moment he steps foot.
I'm Charles Darwin with a right cross that'll knock your heart out of its chest.
Unsanctioned match; I like it. I love it. Another match to add to the collection of brawls in prisons, slaughterhouses, and cages. Stored right next to 60 minute slog-fests and global tournaments.
Another scalp to add to the trophy room.
Look around you, Duce. Tony spins around, pointing out how massive this venue is.This is the habitat this creature's used to living in. This is the place I dream of taking GCWA during the big shows. This is the money and the hype I envision us going. And it begins when I pummel you, Mumble Rapper up and down the arena, take his shiny, and see if that whooping makes him a true hip hop artist...
Or you pulls an Adi and drops the mic.
Choice is yours, pal. Either you move up the food chain...
Or you're the next meal.
He chuckles as he grabs the phone from the bag, and shoots a text to his wife.
Check my homework, babe. Told ya I could spit on the mic without profanity.
The rest of the text, well...
That's something only husband and wife are privilege to!
(Word Count: 1886. Good luck, Duce. #OOC)
Tony couldn't disagree with the logic. But liver...yecch!
I have to go. Sparring session tomorrow.
Still getting his heart rate down, Tony nods, playfully throwing shadow punches at the grizzled old Cuban.Estaré allí!
He was standing dead center on that blue Cowboys star. He thought about pulling a Terrel Owens and pop a Jesus pose, but, he wisely thought better. These 'Boys fans are a twitchy lot. Instead, he surveyed the surrounds, and smiled as more water poured down his throat.
Saw in one of Mumble Rapper's shoots he's got this habit of lurking about the GCWA arena before a match. Wow, how original. Then again, this guy likes to contaminate himself with the city water. Or stumble around Dallas like Cactus Jack in some bad 90's skit from one of those rigged federations. Hey, whatever. Wrestlers don't like to leave their comfort zone, expand their horizons.
I always thought that whole camping out at the spot pre Fight Night was trope. Besides, why gawk over the house you currently live in, when you can check out the home you dream of calling home?
Yeah, he missed playing in venues like this. 100k fans rolling over you like a tsunami with that energy; that is a feeling no drug could match. he wanted to bring that vibe to the G. And he wanted to bring the fed to this house, at least, for a visit or two on PPV's.
Don't get me wrong; I respect Duce, I do. He's a young cat that's done some pretty good things in the biz already. Hell, even scoped out that match with Zolton in CWF.
Wouldn't you know it; a wrestler who ACTUALLY scouts his opposition instead of firing blind. I'll mess around and start a trend. Zolton; God, I haven't seen that guy in years. Sheesh, a third of that roster is Boardwalk Wrestling alumni. Doc Smith, my boy Ataxia (Sedition for life, you crazy bas...person!) and my customized punching bag Sean Fuller. Heck, even saw Danny B lurking around on the roster. Ah, good times in Jersey, those were...
All these feds, and this biz really is a small world.
Those guys, even Sean's stupid self, they were pros. Not afraid to push envelopes and do what it took to be a cut above the rest of the Spandex wearing kids. Wish I could say the same for some of this roster. Don't get me wrong; there's quite a bit of talent in Dallas, but...
I just can't help but notice a severe lack of desire to grow past what they are, what they do. Maybe that's why I came here in the first place; to kick-start an evolutionary process. It's because of what I've done in the last few brief weeks that people are really beginning to take notice of the fed. The "new guy"Crushing opposition in the ring. Maddog; had to retrain that puppy. Look at him now; one fight with me, and that guy is revved up. Quite proud of him, actually. Took that chin checking like a true Southern man and got his act together. Adi and Fisher, I dunno. I hope their jaws aren't stained glass. Through me, we took a mid-card match and made it fight of the night.
Newcomer of the month, undefeated. And what I did last Inferno, Duce got to come along on a trip that changed the atmosphere of High Rollers. The North American title fight coming up...
That, folks, is the true main event. The final table at the Word Series of Poker. Big money round.
All that, because I made it so. I'm not downplaying what Duce has done. He's been doing good. Admittedly, some of his competition hasn't been the best. Lindsey, what a dud. And Lusus isn't quite the Gorgon he makes himself out to be. Like Mike Tyson back in the day, Duce has been monstrous against, well, iffy opposition.
But now, Evander Holyfield is next on the card. And I'm a whole different beast. I look different, train different, conduct myself in a way no GCWA does. While everybody else is content to go with the flow, I make waives. The man that can adjust his style while others remain stuck on their "I do me" kick.
That's why I drive Lambos on tour while Duce putzes around in rental Fords. Wear custom clothes while our N.A. champ is in off the rack mode. That's why I'm here building the G in my image, while Duce putzes around from town to town, being happy with what management gives him. I'm even on the path to do something with Elite Boxing no wrestler has done before; one day contend, and win, the World Heavyweight boxing championship.
I, I am evolution. The guy that's helped build or rebuild organizations for people like Mike Pettis, Kaden Kessler, and even that bald Canuck in EWC. I'm the guy that starts trends. Who starts ruling the jungle the moment he steps foot.
I'm Charles Darwin with a right cross that'll knock your heart out of its chest.
Unsanctioned match; I like it. I love it. Another match to add to the collection of brawls in prisons, slaughterhouses, and cages. Stored right next to 60 minute slog-fests and global tournaments.
Another scalp to add to the trophy room.
Look around you, Duce. Tony spins around, pointing out how massive this venue is.This is the habitat this creature's used to living in. This is the place I dream of taking GCWA during the big shows. This is the money and the hype I envision us going. And it begins when I pummel you, Mumble Rapper up and down the arena, take his shiny, and see if that whooping makes him a true hip hop artist...
Or you pulls an Adi and drops the mic.
Choice is yours, pal. Either you move up the food chain...
Or you're the next meal.
He chuckles as he grabs the phone from the bag, and shoots a text to his wife.
Check my homework, babe. Told ya I could spit on the mic without profanity.
The rest of the text, well...
That's something only husband and wife are privilege to!
(Word Count: 1886. Good luck, Duce. #OOC)
