Post by Jules on Jul 6, 2012 7:43:31 GMT -4
The Final Test ǀ Part 2
(T4TB #2)
*
Chapter V
non irretitis lapides
(Leave no stones unturned)
(T4TB #2)
*
Chapter V
non irretitis lapides
(Leave no stones unturned)
T4TB Audio Blog #4: On The Asylum.
It isn’t an elusive fact that Test For The Best is more than just a set-up to determine Overdrive’s breakout star. However, there is a real danger here that I will imbalance the equation, and in so doing fail to find the proper solution. In short, let’s not forget about the others in this tournament.
The Asylum has burst wide open and the inmates are flocking in this direction. Batten down the hatches, put away all your valuables, hide the children, because this one isn’t going to be pretty.
The Asylum has burst wide open and the inmates are flocking in this direction. Batten down the hatches, put away all your valuables, hide the children, because this one isn’t going to be pretty.
The Madman.
My understanding of the history of Asylum is that there are fewer sons of bitches tougher than Rico Casteel. By extension the pool of candidates Rico Casteel could trust with his back will be spread even thinner. That somebody as bone hard as Rico Casteel could trust and rely on a man like Mike Morrison for so long speaks volumes. Factor in the fact that no person, to my knowledge, has ever physically dismantled Rico Casteel the way Mike Morrison did a couple of months ago, then you have fearsome proposition.
The problem with madmen is the madness. It brings with it certain worries since a man who considers himself in possession of sanity can never reliably read or predict the thinking of the insane – the mere idea is a logically impossibility – but it’s not that I may not be able to read Mike Morrison that worries me. I pride myself on the ability to adapt to a variety of situations. If nothing else, the Xtreme Champion’s bread and butter is the willingness to accommodate and adapt to unforeseen events.
No, the problem with the madman is not his lack of predictable methodology; it is his apparent non-reliance on any sort of paradigm. After all, that is what madness is, right? If I am to face Mike Morrison it is not the beating I fear – I’ve taken plenty of these in my time and it is my willingness to get back up that has brought me here – it is instead the kind of beating he will bring.
There are plenty of people in APW and this business who profess they are motivated by harming others. This is a combat sport, and I know I am going to have to hurt my opponent if I am going to win, but beyond its necessity for victory, violence is no virtue for me. I leave the bloodlust to the sadists of this world while I concern myself with winning. However, even the sadist is easily understood because his paradigm is pain, whereas the madman conforms not even to this.
The problem then is not so much the inability to predict the madman’s actions, but the impossibility of understanding his motivation, since it is liable to shift like the wind, its ends as unknowable as the unfathomable expanse of the universe.
All of this said, I don’t much care for the thoughts shared by others that Mike Morrison lacks what it takes to win this whole thing. The only fact I need to be concerned with is that Mike Morrison has a history of violence that cannot be matched and it cannot be understood. His song sheet bears the notes of a completely different hymn, written a totally alien language.
Fear what you can’t understand? You’re damn right.
The problem with madmen is the madness. It brings with it certain worries since a man who considers himself in possession of sanity can never reliably read or predict the thinking of the insane – the mere idea is a logically impossibility – but it’s not that I may not be able to read Mike Morrison that worries me. I pride myself on the ability to adapt to a variety of situations. If nothing else, the Xtreme Champion’s bread and butter is the willingness to accommodate and adapt to unforeseen events.
No, the problem with the madman is not his lack of predictable methodology; it is his apparent non-reliance on any sort of paradigm. After all, that is what madness is, right? If I am to face Mike Morrison it is not the beating I fear – I’ve taken plenty of these in my time and it is my willingness to get back up that has brought me here – it is instead the kind of beating he will bring.
There are plenty of people in APW and this business who profess they are motivated by harming others. This is a combat sport, and I know I am going to have to hurt my opponent if I am going to win, but beyond its necessity for victory, violence is no virtue for me. I leave the bloodlust to the sadists of this world while I concern myself with winning. However, even the sadist is easily understood because his paradigm is pain, whereas the madman conforms not even to this.
The problem then is not so much the inability to predict the madman’s actions, but the impossibility of understanding his motivation, since it is liable to shift like the wind, its ends as unknowable as the unfathomable expanse of the universe.
All of this said, I don’t much care for the thoughts shared by others that Mike Morrison lacks what it takes to win this whole thing. The only fact I need to be concerned with is that Mike Morrison has a history of violence that cannot be matched and it cannot be understood. His song sheet bears the notes of a completely different hymn, written a totally alien language.
Fear what you can’t understand? You’re damn right.
The Revolutionist.
Nobody wants to play second fiddle in this business. It is after all a business dominated by egos and every ego demands of itself that solitary position at the top of the pyramid.
I know what it means to break free of shackles and to taste the liberation of your own achievements. Therefore I know exactly how Chaz Dillinger is feeling, I know exactly how he is looking at Test For The Best.
This isn’t just about getting another shot at the World Title. This is about showing the world he is not just some chucklehead playing ‘follow the leader’. This is about proving to the world that a true revolutionist stands alone.
Chaz, I can see you desperately trying to step out from the massive egos you have so far in your career hidden behind. I respect you for that because let’s be honest, nobody has any time for a lackey that skulks in the shadow behind his master. But Chaz, even you must be questioning whether this is really your domain.
I can’t help but notice a mismatch between your tremendous successes outside the wrestling ring, and your lack of anything within it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen you wrestle and I know you have talent – you’ve got more variations of suplexes and holds to twist the human body into positions even a contortionist would shrink at – but somewhere something has gone amiss.
Look at your career: just weeks after signing to the company you gave up a World Title shot to your then paymaster Nathaniel Havok, who, in turn, tried to give you the Xtreme Title I now hold; then you’re Tap Out Title run failed, and from that you somehow gained a second World Title shot only to fall short. I can see you’re trying Chaz, but it strikes me that maybe you’re just more suited to the role of lieutenant than you are to the role of general.
This tournament is simply about more than that: it is about finding wrestlers who can drive this company forward; wrestlers who the fans to look at and respect. I can’t see a man who polishes the boots of a politician as fitting that profile.
You’re good Chaz, but like most of your APW career, this may just be a level too far.
I know what it means to break free of shackles and to taste the liberation of your own achievements. Therefore I know exactly how Chaz Dillinger is feeling, I know exactly how he is looking at Test For The Best.
This isn’t just about getting another shot at the World Title. This is about showing the world he is not just some chucklehead playing ‘follow the leader’. This is about proving to the world that a true revolutionist stands alone.
Chaz, I can see you desperately trying to step out from the massive egos you have so far in your career hidden behind. I respect you for that because let’s be honest, nobody has any time for a lackey that skulks in the shadow behind his master. But Chaz, even you must be questioning whether this is really your domain.
I can’t help but notice a mismatch between your tremendous successes outside the wrestling ring, and your lack of anything within it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen you wrestle and I know you have talent – you’ve got more variations of suplexes and holds to twist the human body into positions even a contortionist would shrink at – but somewhere something has gone amiss.
Look at your career: just weeks after signing to the company you gave up a World Title shot to your then paymaster Nathaniel Havok, who, in turn, tried to give you the Xtreme Title I now hold; then you’re Tap Out Title run failed, and from that you somehow gained a second World Title shot only to fall short. I can see you’re trying Chaz, but it strikes me that maybe you’re just more suited to the role of lieutenant than you are to the role of general.
This tournament is simply about more than that: it is about finding wrestlers who can drive this company forward; wrestlers who the fans to look at and respect. I can’t see a man who polishes the boots of a politician as fitting that profile.
You’re good Chaz, but like most of your APW career, this may just be a level too far.
The Survivor.
Johnny Knuckles and I share something in common. Call it belligerence, call it stupid, call it whatever you want, but some people just don’t know when they are beaten; some people just cannot grasp that something is quite simply out of their reach.
This is why I wrestle. After fifteen years my mind will just not accept the lessons of the body: despite the efforts of every opponent I have faced, as well as my own shortcomings, I cannot stop what I am doing; I cannot stop striving for that something is has always been beyond my reach.
If you succeed it’s called belligerence and determination, or if you’re more romantically inclined ‘heroic courage’; if you fail then it’s just plain stupidity.
I get the impression that both myself and Johnny Knuckles are at the same juncture: are we about to take the path to ‘heroic courage’, or are we still walking our way to planet stupid?
Johnny, I read somewhere recently that you have been trying to beat Jason Kash for nearly a decade. I spent the last fifteen years trying to defeat myself, and I nearly succeeded, so I know what it means to lose out to long-term rival – but never to have won and to keep going? Like I said that is either incredibly admirable or simply farcical.
Nevertheless, the winds of history do shift and I watched from the back as you stunned the whole business with probably the best performance of the whole Survive & Conquer match. To make the final four was some achievement when you consider not just the quantity, but the quality of that field. It gave you, it gave us all, reason to believe that maybe after a decade of trying 2012 would finally be the year Johnny Knuckles came good.
However, the evidence is that Survive & Conquer was your peak. I’ve seen you twice since try and fail to gain that elusive victory over Jason Kash. And while the class of 2012 will know that Johnny Knuckles pushed Jason Kash closer than any man or woman had done before, the tide of history will sweep that fact away and all that will remain will be that Jason Kash beat all comers.
Now, I’m not going to tell you to give up on that dream, Johnny; that would be unbecoming of me, plus history suggests you wouldn’t give a second’s thought to a word I said on the matter since I’m sure I’m not the first to utter the words ‘maybe it’s just not in you to beat Jason Kash’. If you did you wouldn’t be half the man you are, and you wouldn’t be standing here dreaming of Shockwave and another match with Jason Kash.
However Johnny, for every drop of motivation inside your bones I carry two. You think you have a lot to lose, I have everything to lose. We’ve both made our names on durability, but there the comparison ends. Test For The Best is not just about who can survive, it is about who can conquer, and as the evidence suggests in that respect you always come up short.
This is why I wrestle. After fifteen years my mind will just not accept the lessons of the body: despite the efforts of every opponent I have faced, as well as my own shortcomings, I cannot stop what I am doing; I cannot stop striving for that something is has always been beyond my reach.
If you succeed it’s called belligerence and determination, or if you’re more romantically inclined ‘heroic courage’; if you fail then it’s just plain stupidity.
I get the impression that both myself and Johnny Knuckles are at the same juncture: are we about to take the path to ‘heroic courage’, or are we still walking our way to planet stupid?
Johnny, I read somewhere recently that you have been trying to beat Jason Kash for nearly a decade. I spent the last fifteen years trying to defeat myself, and I nearly succeeded, so I know what it means to lose out to long-term rival – but never to have won and to keep going? Like I said that is either incredibly admirable or simply farcical.
Nevertheless, the winds of history do shift and I watched from the back as you stunned the whole business with probably the best performance of the whole Survive & Conquer match. To make the final four was some achievement when you consider not just the quantity, but the quality of that field. It gave you, it gave us all, reason to believe that maybe after a decade of trying 2012 would finally be the year Johnny Knuckles came good.
However, the evidence is that Survive & Conquer was your peak. I’ve seen you twice since try and fail to gain that elusive victory over Jason Kash. And while the class of 2012 will know that Johnny Knuckles pushed Jason Kash closer than any man or woman had done before, the tide of history will sweep that fact away and all that will remain will be that Jason Kash beat all comers.
Now, I’m not going to tell you to give up on that dream, Johnny; that would be unbecoming of me, plus history suggests you wouldn’t give a second’s thought to a word I said on the matter since I’m sure I’m not the first to utter the words ‘maybe it’s just not in you to beat Jason Kash’. If you did you wouldn’t be half the man you are, and you wouldn’t be standing here dreaming of Shockwave and another match with Jason Kash.
However Johnny, for every drop of motivation inside your bones I carry two. You think you have a lot to lose, I have everything to lose. We’ve both made our names on durability, but there the comparison ends. Test For The Best is not just about who can survive, it is about who can conquer, and as the evidence suggests in that respect you always come up short.
The Last Magician.
Let anyone out there say that professional wrestling is a man’s world, and I’ll refer you to Sally Talfourd.
I’m not afraid to admit my shock upon signing for APW to learn that a female wrestler was amongst its all-time elite competitors. I wouldn’t say I felt threatened or devalued as a wrestler to hear that a woman had risen to the top of APW, but let’s just say my wrestling education was mostly carried out in places where promoters saw a narrow focus for the fairer sex.
But Sally Talfourd needs no introduction; her reputation and her accomplishments precede her, not just because she has made a success of herself in a male-dominated sport, but because that success came at the expense of one of the best this company will ever have to offer: Lester ‘Level-One’ Only. Add to that her many of other successes in past Survive & Conquer matches, Test For The Best and Extreme tournaments, as well as headlining countless APW pay-per-views.
Let’s not beat about the bush here, Sally Talfourd is a wrestler of stratospheric proportions.
However, it has been a long time since Sally Talfourd held the top prize in this company, and while her performances this year on Asylum have merited the widespread belief that she is still among the elite, and deserves to be considered one of the favourites, there are question marks lurking.
Nobody is going to doubt her stellar performance at Rasslemania VIII in defeating Level-One, but given the history of that rivalry motivation would not have been difficult to locate. If ever there was an opponent that was going to raise Sally Talfourd’s level it’s Lester Only. Since then Sally Talfourd has barely suffered a loss on Asylum, taking down every man who thought he only had to turn up to squash a measly 145lbs woman, and while this is impressive and probably the envy of every Asylum Megastar, you can’t neglect Sally Talfourd’s submission to Michael Callahan at Mayhem.
I can’t escape the notion that twelve months ago Sally Talfourd would have found a way to escape that hold; that her mind and her will would have refused to allow her body to give up the way it did. I’m not saying here that Sally Talfourd is no longer an elite performer, I’m simply suggesting there are questions about whether she is as elite as she was. Winning matches on Asylum is one thing, winning three matches in one night involving nine of the best wrestlers in the world right now is something else entirely. The question is whether ‘The Last Magician’ can pull one last rabbit out of the hat.
I have no doubt Sally Talfourd still possesses the motivation, but there is always a point in every warrior’s life when the body can no longer support the mind and the desire. When that happens and you begin to start falling short, there is a thought that ‘once short, always short’.
Nevertheless, I know Sally Talfourd will not be lacking in desire, I expect she will be as prepared as any of us, and she will be flying to Chicago expecting to win Test For The Best and prove that those lurking question marks have no further right to stalk her.
I hope Sally Talfourd does and feels all of this. I hope we see the best of Sally Talfourd in Chicago because if I am the one facing her I would ask for and expect nothing less. That’s right, I want to see the Sally Talfourd that endured and overcame Level-One in a barbaric steel cage match, not the one that went quietly into the night against Michael Callahan.
I want all that because this is my test, my final test, and I want it set against the very best.
*
Chapter VI
bis vincit qui se vincit in victoria
(He conquers twice who conquers himself in victory)
I’m not afraid to admit my shock upon signing for APW to learn that a female wrestler was amongst its all-time elite competitors. I wouldn’t say I felt threatened or devalued as a wrestler to hear that a woman had risen to the top of APW, but let’s just say my wrestling education was mostly carried out in places where promoters saw a narrow focus for the fairer sex.
But Sally Talfourd needs no introduction; her reputation and her accomplishments precede her, not just because she has made a success of herself in a male-dominated sport, but because that success came at the expense of one of the best this company will ever have to offer: Lester ‘Level-One’ Only. Add to that her many of other successes in past Survive & Conquer matches, Test For The Best and Extreme tournaments, as well as headlining countless APW pay-per-views.
Let’s not beat about the bush here, Sally Talfourd is a wrestler of stratospheric proportions.
However, it has been a long time since Sally Talfourd held the top prize in this company, and while her performances this year on Asylum have merited the widespread belief that she is still among the elite, and deserves to be considered one of the favourites, there are question marks lurking.
Nobody is going to doubt her stellar performance at Rasslemania VIII in defeating Level-One, but given the history of that rivalry motivation would not have been difficult to locate. If ever there was an opponent that was going to raise Sally Talfourd’s level it’s Lester Only. Since then Sally Talfourd has barely suffered a loss on Asylum, taking down every man who thought he only had to turn up to squash a measly 145lbs woman, and while this is impressive and probably the envy of every Asylum Megastar, you can’t neglect Sally Talfourd’s submission to Michael Callahan at Mayhem.
I can’t escape the notion that twelve months ago Sally Talfourd would have found a way to escape that hold; that her mind and her will would have refused to allow her body to give up the way it did. I’m not saying here that Sally Talfourd is no longer an elite performer, I’m simply suggesting there are questions about whether she is as elite as she was. Winning matches on Asylum is one thing, winning three matches in one night involving nine of the best wrestlers in the world right now is something else entirely. The question is whether ‘The Last Magician’ can pull one last rabbit out of the hat.
I have no doubt Sally Talfourd still possesses the motivation, but there is always a point in every warrior’s life when the body can no longer support the mind and the desire. When that happens and you begin to start falling short, there is a thought that ‘once short, always short’.
Nevertheless, I know Sally Talfourd will not be lacking in desire, I expect she will be as prepared as any of us, and she will be flying to Chicago expecting to win Test For The Best and prove that those lurking question marks have no further right to stalk her.
I hope Sally Talfourd does and feels all of this. I hope we see the best of Sally Talfourd in Chicago because if I am the one facing her I would ask for and expect nothing less. That’s right, I want to see the Sally Talfourd that endured and overcame Level-One in a barbaric steel cage match, not the one that went quietly into the night against Michael Callahan.
I want all that because this is my test, my final test, and I want it set against the very best.
*
Chapter VI
bis vincit qui se vincit in victoria
(He conquers twice who conquers himself in victory)
At the heart of the United Arena stood a fully-assembled wrestling ring. The home of the iconic Chicago Bulls basketball franchise is empty save two individuals who stand in the centre of the ring. It was the day before Test For The Best and occupying the APW ring at this time were current Xtreme Champion and Test For The Best participant John Dionysus, and his younger half-brother Francis.
“So this it,” Francis began, looking around at the vast emptiness, “your theatre of dreams.”
“It’s not exactly Fenway Park.”
“Ain’t that the truth, brother.”
Francis watched Dionysus survey the arena, check the tautness of the ropes with his hands, then by bouncing his back against them, before finally demonstrating a bit of shadow boxing.
“So tell me, Johnny, are you nervous?”
Dionysus stopped and looked quizzically at his half-brother.
“Do I look nervous?”
Francis shrugged and turned away. Dionysus found this response very odd, but went back to his routine of familiarising himself with the ring and the venue. Half a minute passed before Francis, leaning on the ropes, turned to his older half-sibling.
“Just think of all the great names that have made their trade and entertained millions in this place.”
Dionysus nodded; it certainly wasn’t short on iconic moments, and as if reading Dionysus’ mind Francis began to recall some of the great and famed names associated with the United Arena.
“Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen, Ron Harper, Dennis Rodman, Phil Jackson, Jeremy Roenick...”
“All legends,” Dionysus chipped in absent-mindedly.
“Not to mention Britney Spears, Lady Gaga, Oprah Winfrey...”
Dionysus cut a sharp look at his half-brother; Francis chuckled.
“You’re such a dope sometimes.”
“I bet you wouldn’t mind adding your name to that illustrious list,” Francis suggested with a smile, then added, “try and channel the spirit of ’97.”
“I’d take a win at the buzzer any day.”
“You’d take a win. Period.”
“True,” came the monotone response from Dionysus, his mind apparently elsewhere. Francis studied his older half-brother and asked again.
“Are you nervous?”
Dionysus snapped out his daydream and after a shake of the head responded to his half-brother.
“You asked me that already.”
“Yeah, and you didn’t answer.”
Dionysus’ brow furrowed with confusion.
“It’s okay to be nervous, John. You’ve got the weight of history on your back. Some pretty big shoes to walk in around here.”
“It’s not history I’m concerned with,” Dionysus paused, “it’s the weight of expectation.”
“Then I guess you’re just going to have to deliver.”
“And if I don’t.”
“Then you don’t.”
Francis shrugged; it was more of a ‘happy-go-lucky’ sort of gesture rather than a dismissive one.
“It isn’t that simple,” Dionysus responded. “It’s not just what I expect of myself. It’s you, it’s Vern, people in the back, not to mention twenty-something thousand people who will surround this ring tomorrow and demand something,” Dionysus paused, “spectacular. Not to mention millions of people watching around the world.”
“But you’ve had this pressure before.”
“No,” Dionysus said with an ironic smile, “nothing like this. Before I was just a chump who got lucky and won a few Xtreme matches. Now,” he trailed off.
“But, “ Francis filled in, “you’re more than just that now. You’re not just an Xtreme Champion, you’re the fucking Xtreme Champion. You’ve elevated that belt way beyond what anybody else would dare or dream to do.”
“Precisely,” Dionysus interjected; Francis wore an expression of confusion which Dionysus read and answered. “Now I’m something more. Now the people believe and they expect from me.”
“And?”
“And what if I can’t deliver?”
“Then so what? You can’t see the future, John, so stop being a pussy about it.”
They fell into an awkward silence and after 10 ten excruciating seconds Francis spoke again.
“Look, it’s like Schrödinger’s Cat”
Dionysus cut Francis a look that said “what the heck are you talking about?”
“Schrödinger’s Cat – you must know it.”
Dionysus shook his head.
“Schrödinger was a scientist of some such, and he wanted explain some interpretation of quantum mechanics, I think?”
Dionysus looked blankly at his half-brother, who shrugged his shoulders and continued.
“Anyway, this guy, Schrödinger, proposed a thought experiment whereby you imagine a cat locked in a box with a vial of poison that breaks open at a random time. The idea Schrödinger proposed was that until the box is open the cat should be thought of as both alive and dead.”
Dionysus looked at his half-brother in total disbelief: “What is the point,” he asked.
“The point is, big brother, that tomorrow night can be thought of as both a success and a failure for you. The only way you’re going to find out which is to stop wondering about it, and crying about it like a bitch, and just get on with it when the time comes.”
Dionysus looked at his brother and smiled; for a 17-year old kid, Dionysus thought, he wasn’t just a dumb punk kid.
“That’s good, Francis, very good,” Dionysus said with a smile. “But where do you get that stuff from? I didn’t know you were into quantum physics.”
“I’m not,” Francis answered, “but I love The Big Bang Theory.”
The expression on Dionysus face betrayed that he didn’t get the pop-culture reference. Francis dismissed it with a wave of the hand and watched his brother turn away to once again stare into the empty space of the arena, the body language and the silence suggesting Dionysus was once again lost in pensive thought.
“We’re all really proud of you,” Francis added to break the silence. Dionysus turned around and gave his younger half-brother a quizzical look.
“Mom, Vern, Charlie, me,” Francis continued, “we’re all proud of what you’ve done. Turning your life around like that, getting here, and competing at this level.”
Dionysus was surprised at this outburst.
“Mom,” he questioned.
“Yeah, she even told me she’s ordered the pay-per-view; got all the neighbours coming round.”
Dionysus smiled. “Then I’ll try to win this for mom, right?”
“No John,” Francis, wearing a serious expression, replied, “win it for you.”
*
Chapter VII
ad victoriam
(To victory)
Chapter VII
ad victoriam
(To victory)
T4TB Audio Blog #5: On John Dionysus.
This is it. This is the time. No turning back.
Fear. Nervousness. Excitement. Hope. These are just some of the emotions and feelings I’m experiencing this week, and I have no doubt my opponents, actual and potential, are going through the same thing and will do so tenfold over the next days.
Everybody is a threat in my eyes, every single one of the competitors at Test For The Best stands a chance in my eyes. But what about me?
I am John Dionysus. I am the APW Xtreme and CWC South American Champion.
But what does this mean?
I know there are those on the roster who will choose to dismiss the Xtreme Championship belt I carry with me; I know they somehow feel they can condescend this championship and this division, dismiss it as some tawdry affair for half-wits and bloated, overweight brawlers who offer little more than a talent for surviving chair shots to the head.
I know who those wrestlers are and I also know they know nothing about what it means – what it demands – to be an Xtreme Champion.
I’ll be straight with you, I thought the exact same thing myself. I thought of myself as a wrestler, I set out to prove my worth according to the traditions of this sport, and they did not include brawling with pipes, folded chairs, and trash cans. However, one thing I know about Xtreme wrestling these days is that if you’re going to survive you have to learn on the job...quickly.
Experience has taught me, yes I can take more than my fair share of the punishment; yes, I do have a talent for being beaten with weapons and surviving. However, my experience as Xtreme Champion has taught me that I am more than just a wrestler; it has taught me that I am more than simply the ‘average Joe Roster’ who wants nothing more than to be the best wrestler in the world. The Xtreme Championship has helped me to evolve because it has taught what I dare not acknowledge about myself: I am a survivor; more than that, I am not just a wrestler, but a fighter.
Some of you may not appreciate the difference, but I assure you it is there and it is stark. Sadly, it’s a truth that is only recognised when you’re kneeling in the middle of the ring while another person tries to knock your brains out of the building with whatever implement he can lay his hands on, and you have four words sounding out a mantra inside your head...
I WILL NOT QUIT.
No matter what happens, no matter the sacrifice, or the blood that has to be shed.
That is why I can fill myself with confidence going into this tournament. I know there are other champions and past champions, and I know they have had what it takes to win. But they have also tasted the fall.
I had to fall and I had to fall long and land hard before I could climb again. But the point is that no matter the adversity, no matter how low I am dragged, I know I can rise again. This is exactly what I have been doing for the past twelve months. I can survive and rise and conquer.
Everything has prepared me for this moment. The last fifteen years. The past year. The past six months in APW. The Xtreme Championship. Ascension Tournament. Last Man Standing. The CWC South American Championship.
All of this has brought me to this moment. It has shown me that I can compete among the best; I can be the best of the best. I can take every shot the world and my opponent can throw at me and get up again.
Everything Michael Harris could muster I overcame...twice!
The sneers of my peers I overcame to make the Xtreme Title proud again.
Defeat to Kurt Noble at Ascension put me down, but still I rose again like a phoenix to defeat five others and become CWC South American Champion at Ascension Finale.
Steve Stryker. Keaton Saint. A.C. Smith. Terry Marvin. Chaz Dillinger. Mike Morrison. Johnny Knuckles. Sally Talfourd.
All obstacles I have to overcome to stand alone, to rise above.
All obstacles I will overcome because this is what I do, this is what I am.
I survive.
I thrive.
I conquer.
I demand that I become the best.
All the doubt, it ends in Chicago. Fifteen years of hurt and pain and suffering, it ends in Chicago. The grasping of greatness, it begins in Chicago.
Not for APW. Not for the people. Not for a cause, an ideal, or a principle. Not for the Championship.
But for me.
Fear. Nervousness. Excitement. Hope. These are just some of the emotions and feelings I’m experiencing this week, and I have no doubt my opponents, actual and potential, are going through the same thing and will do so tenfold over the next days.
Everybody is a threat in my eyes, every single one of the competitors at Test For The Best stands a chance in my eyes. But what about me?
I am John Dionysus. I am the APW Xtreme and CWC South American Champion.
But what does this mean?
I know there are those on the roster who will choose to dismiss the Xtreme Championship belt I carry with me; I know they somehow feel they can condescend this championship and this division, dismiss it as some tawdry affair for half-wits and bloated, overweight brawlers who offer little more than a talent for surviving chair shots to the head.
I know who those wrestlers are and I also know they know nothing about what it means – what it demands – to be an Xtreme Champion.
I’ll be straight with you, I thought the exact same thing myself. I thought of myself as a wrestler, I set out to prove my worth according to the traditions of this sport, and they did not include brawling with pipes, folded chairs, and trash cans. However, one thing I know about Xtreme wrestling these days is that if you’re going to survive you have to learn on the job...quickly.
Experience has taught me, yes I can take more than my fair share of the punishment; yes, I do have a talent for being beaten with weapons and surviving. However, my experience as Xtreme Champion has taught me that I am more than just a wrestler; it has taught me that I am more than simply the ‘average Joe Roster’ who wants nothing more than to be the best wrestler in the world. The Xtreme Championship has helped me to evolve because it has taught what I dare not acknowledge about myself: I am a survivor; more than that, I am not just a wrestler, but a fighter.
Some of you may not appreciate the difference, but I assure you it is there and it is stark. Sadly, it’s a truth that is only recognised when you’re kneeling in the middle of the ring while another person tries to knock your brains out of the building with whatever implement he can lay his hands on, and you have four words sounding out a mantra inside your head...
I WILL NOT QUIT.
No matter what happens, no matter the sacrifice, or the blood that has to be shed.
That is why I can fill myself with confidence going into this tournament. I know there are other champions and past champions, and I know they have had what it takes to win. But they have also tasted the fall.
I had to fall and I had to fall long and land hard before I could climb again. But the point is that no matter the adversity, no matter how low I am dragged, I know I can rise again. This is exactly what I have been doing for the past twelve months. I can survive and rise and conquer.
Everything has prepared me for this moment. The last fifteen years. The past year. The past six months in APW. The Xtreme Championship. Ascension Tournament. Last Man Standing. The CWC South American Championship.
All of this has brought me to this moment. It has shown me that I can compete among the best; I can be the best of the best. I can take every shot the world and my opponent can throw at me and get up again.
Everything Michael Harris could muster I overcame...twice!
The sneers of my peers I overcame to make the Xtreme Title proud again.
Defeat to Kurt Noble at Ascension put me down, but still I rose again like a phoenix to defeat five others and become CWC South American Champion at Ascension Finale.
Steve Stryker. Keaton Saint. A.C. Smith. Terry Marvin. Chaz Dillinger. Mike Morrison. Johnny Knuckles. Sally Talfourd.
All obstacles I have to overcome to stand alone, to rise above.
All obstacles I will overcome because this is what I do, this is what I am.
I survive.
I thrive.
I conquer.
I demand that I become the best.
All the doubt, it ends in Chicago. Fifteen years of hurt and pain and suffering, it ends in Chicago. The grasping of greatness, it begins in Chicago.
Not for APW. Not for the people. Not for a cause, an ideal, or a principle. Not for the Championship.
But for me.
