Post by Phil Atken on Apr 6, 2013 21:27:22 GMT -4
Atken: It's just me. It's just me and me alone. No Dirk, no Hank, no Saul. I felt like APW offering me this time in front of one of their ever so precious cameras after they done there gosh dang darn it rootin' tootin' best to ignore my very existence for the past would be a good time for some solid reflection. A time, as some may say, to get some things off of my mind. I've never been a fan of the saying myself, to get them off your mind to remove them as knowledge and if there's one thing I wish to cling on to, if there's one thought I hope to have to continue lingering within this dear ole noggin of mine it's how this company decided to treat the man who OVER CAME IT ALL to climb to the top of the ladder. I've been silent for a long time now and I got all those thoughts just swirling around there, I understand that perhaps my story is begging to be told and yet some would rather that I just fade away. Some would like to pretend that the Phil Atken era of Asylum didn't exist, after all, mines isn't a face that you can plaster across the buses of Toronto. Well you could, it'd just be ill advised and may cause some kind of public disorder citation.
Phil Atken ladies and gentleman, the man former World Heavyweight Champion, lingering around in an office chair, a glass of whisky by his side. Keepin' it fresh and simple for more likely budgeting concerns, Phil sits in front of the window of his hotel accommodation, the night sky twinkling behind him. I mention this because night sky scenes are very pretty, all them pretty stars. It's all very lovely.
Atken: Yet, despite my understanding about what a company wants to look towards in terms of image, it still says a lot about this company, if indeed not the whole industry that you can immediately forget a man like me. I mean, I have pinned former World Heavyweight Champion after former World Heavyweight Champion in the middle of that ring, hell, a few of 'em even give me the courtesy of tapping out, slapping that mat hard as they screamed out in pain. They tapped out because there was no other way out, they knew they were beaten and they knew they were beaten by me. One of those who holds that honour just hightailed it out of the Asylum with MY World Heavyweight Championship in tow. Michael Callahan must've BEGGED for that trade, he must have been on bended knee to get away from the show, to try and establish a new legacy because as much as I admire Keaton Saint, hell, he took everything I hold dear away from me at a moment I wasn't expecting, he knew when to strike and he struck hard but he can't win the big one when the pressure is on.
No one expected him to leave that pre-Rasslemania Asylum as champion, including me, a sin for which I paid dearly. Hoisted by my own hubris. For months I stood in front of all of you, in front of the whole roster and I lead a cause. I lead a meaningful cause, I had purpose, I had motivation, I had drive. I had SOMETHING to prove. I was there to prove that when science battles faith, science is the victory EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. Yet I entered that Asylum not with the game plan but with a belief in destiny. I thought it was my destiny to return to Rasslemania a year after I was humilated by the hands of Julius Farquhar and return as the man who would finally slay the myth of the Callahan Dynasty, that our beloved longest reigning champion could not survive outside of his comfort zone. I let a belief in fate conquer logic, I know I should've scouted Saint, I should've trained harder, focused longer and should have entered that match as I did at Survive and Conquer. I didn't, I let faith be my guide, I knew what the company wanted, I knew they wanted me and Callahan one last time, I just had to trust that everything would work for the best. I turned my back on my own advice and it cost me dearly, a moment that sunk in as a lay there watch Keaton Saint hoist the only thing in the world I held dear high above his head.
Phil takes a few sips out of his whisky glass and scratches his knee, because why not.
Atken: Yet when the weight of expectation begins to take hold with the pressure of performance, Keaton Saint crumbles. He crumbled against Terry Marvin on multiple occasions and he certainly crumbled against Michael Callahan with all of this industries eyeballs baring down on him. He took what was mine but he didn't own it, he didn't believe it was his himself and he never got to establish it as his own. It was taken from him before he could even slap on a Saint nameplate, it was taken from Asylum and thanks to Keaton Saint, I will never get the chance to destroy the mystique around the political fraudster once and for all. No, now he gets to travel on the Overdrive bus, tossing out the same tall tales. I understand that the man who once tried to run Asylum as his own anti-abortion tool is now looking to be the hero of the brand. I weep for this industry sometimes, I really do.
Atken holds up a picture of a crying Indian.
Atken: He weeps for this industry too. Then again he also weeps about littering, he's a sensitive soul, I'm sure he makes a fine husband. The point being, Callahan tailed it not because of a lust for competition but because he knows there's a man who can beat him who was waiting in the wings. A man who he stood across from, a man he had to surrender to, a man who should've be owed his rightful rematch but instead now has been cast down the ladder once more, a man who is expected to be used to elevate the next golden boy on his path to excellence.
When will this place learn that I'm not the guy you do that with, I'm not Mr. Dangerous. You want to give your next iconic Megastar a little exhibition of his skills, throw him up against that schmuck. God knows I'm awestruck any time he manages to actually make his way down to the ring, every more when he picks up a victory because someone who has crashed to the bottom rung of this place slipped on an unfortunately placed banana peel. We work in a bewildering place sometimes.
Christian Kane, I once got you confused with the very talented actor Christian Kane, I think it has something to do with the names. Still, the truth is, with a name like that, you caught my attention, mostly because right up until your debut I was still expecting that actor to walk out to the ring. That dude is hella buff so I reckoned he could pull it off. He does all them fight scenes on Leverage and I think he done a couple in Angel too, I'm sure he would make a great wrestler. It was however enough to catch my attention Christian. I knew you were destined to move from Meltdown at a rapid pace, you had the look, you had the build, you had the confidence, I believe that the kids these days would say that you were pretty damn swag. Whatever that means. You caught my attention and that is a rare thing to do Christian, I'm not entirely sure what happens on Overdrive most of the time, does that one guy still have rabies because I really think that is really pushing it in terms of a healthy work environment. I'm surprised whoever is running that Titanic hasn't steered it right into the iceberg. Is it still Rebel because he'd be drunk enough to smash that show right into the ground. Sorry, got caught up in some kind of accidental cross brand smack talk there, no idea how that happened.
Christian, I don't pay attention to many in this company, to me, they all play that same tired game. They talk about heart, they talk about dedication, they think that they deserve to win just because they show a little bit of hustle. They foolishly believe that soul will lead them to victory over mind and to be honest, that just bores me. I'm tired of that cliché because it has been fired at me so many times. I didn't deserve to be champion because I took a few shortcuts, I didn't deserve to be champion because I was cold and calculating, they felt that they could fell me by sheer will power alone. Bailey, Kash, Talfourd and even Callahan thought that due to their dedication to training and to suffering for this art that they would be able to take down the man who got to the top through using one single tool.
Phil taps top of his skull in the brainal region of his mindskullbrain.
Atken: Those who come up here and talk about being the best wrestler, they don't interest me, they don't show the insight worthy of holding a position at the top. They are not ones who could ever benefit from my teachings. Yet you Christian, sure you may have the looks but you understand this game better than they do and I suppose that's why it is going to hurt me just a smidge when I have to use you as a tool on Sunday. I wish we hadn't been forced to collide dearest CK, I would've loved to watch you climb the ranks, I would have cheered on your victory as the next Tap Out or Suicidal champion, I would've gladly watched your star rise and grow brighter with every passing Asylum. Perhaps you would've been ready to take up my cause when my wrestling boots finally get stuffed away in a cupboard and I become a family man. In so many ways, you are the perfect vessel to represent the truth of wrestling, you don't hide behind vague platitudes, you don't pander, you know what you want and you know how best to get there.
And yet, Christian, I sadly have to send you hurtling down to the bottom of the ladder at a time when you should be establishing yourself as a true force on Asylum. I almost feel like we're breaking up before a relationship could even blossom when I tell you that it isn't you, it's me. Please don't blame yourself for what I inflict upon you in Uruguay. I wish they could have given me anyone else upon my return to Asylum and yet the cards have already been dealt and we must make do with the hands we have. You have been cast in a quite unfortunate role, unfortunate for you, unfortunate for me. Hey, at least I'm living up to the moniker this time around.
It's quite simple Mr. Kane, this company tried to forget about me, they tried to bury me beneath the ground, they didn't let me step foot in Toronto. I should've been there, that Rasslemania moment should have been mine, I should have been standing tall as the fireworks went kaboom and kablammo around me, firmly established as THE World Heavyweight Champion, the GREATEST World Heavyweight Champion the brand has and will ever see. Instead, I wasn't even on the show. Not even allowed to warm up the crowd, it was like the high point of my career never even happened to these people. They were already playing with their new toys and I was discarded to the Island of Misfit Toys, never to return but as it turns out, I built myself a damn boat. I built myself a damn boat and rowed the hell off of that island and Christian, this misfit toy, he's just a little bit peeved that he was abandoned and left for dead. He's just a little bit on edge about the entire thing if I'm honest with you.
So I have returned, I have returned with one goal in mind, I will tear this place down with my bear hands, piece by piece until it is left as the wreck that they thought I was. I thought I could educate APW, I thought I could lift the discourse, that I could allow rationality and sanity prevail. I tried to protect the talent from danger, I tried to get the Megastars to stop trusting blindly in faith and yet the company ended up consuming me, no matter how hard I tried to fight it. It hurts to think a man like Stefan Raab got to push his agenda against our dear leader at Rasslemania, an agenda that serves nothing but himself. I'm altruistic, I wanted to help, I wanted to turn this place into the shining beacon of what wrestling SHOULD be.
So I've been stuck thinking about APW Christian, I've been stuck thinking about how to change it, how to get it to become what I want to see. Someone once told me to become the change you want, or maybe that was a movie I watched... some indian dude rambling on for ages... really boring now I think about it. I tried to follow that message, I became the change I wanted, I embodied everything that should have been, I became THE champion of the company and yet I still didn't matter, I still couldn't impact the place, despite the gold glistening off my waist, no one wanted to listen.
Now though, now I just wish to inflict a little bit of damage to this place, now I want to just give them that ping of panic when they realise that this time around, they can't stop me, that they regret giving me the chance to get off the island, Christian. Sadly, that pain has to begin with you, not out of my choice but out of the companies' decisions. They are the ones who have sent you to the slaughter. They have been the ones to guide you into the abattoir. They wanted to rise your flag through me, sadly though I have to set it alight instead. I need to give out the warning shot, it's just common courtesy.
Please just remember as you nurse your wounds, I am not the man to blame for what is to come.
Phil Atken ladies and gentleman, the man former World Heavyweight Champion, lingering around in an office chair, a glass of whisky by his side. Keepin' it fresh and simple for more likely budgeting concerns, Phil sits in front of the window of his hotel accommodation, the night sky twinkling behind him. I mention this because night sky scenes are very pretty, all them pretty stars. It's all very lovely.
Atken: Yet, despite my understanding about what a company wants to look towards in terms of image, it still says a lot about this company, if indeed not the whole industry that you can immediately forget a man like me. I mean, I have pinned former World Heavyweight Champion after former World Heavyweight Champion in the middle of that ring, hell, a few of 'em even give me the courtesy of tapping out, slapping that mat hard as they screamed out in pain. They tapped out because there was no other way out, they knew they were beaten and they knew they were beaten by me. One of those who holds that honour just hightailed it out of the Asylum with MY World Heavyweight Championship in tow. Michael Callahan must've BEGGED for that trade, he must have been on bended knee to get away from the show, to try and establish a new legacy because as much as I admire Keaton Saint, hell, he took everything I hold dear away from me at a moment I wasn't expecting, he knew when to strike and he struck hard but he can't win the big one when the pressure is on.
No one expected him to leave that pre-Rasslemania Asylum as champion, including me, a sin for which I paid dearly. Hoisted by my own hubris. For months I stood in front of all of you, in front of the whole roster and I lead a cause. I lead a meaningful cause, I had purpose, I had motivation, I had drive. I had SOMETHING to prove. I was there to prove that when science battles faith, science is the victory EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. Yet I entered that Asylum not with the game plan but with a belief in destiny. I thought it was my destiny to return to Rasslemania a year after I was humilated by the hands of Julius Farquhar and return as the man who would finally slay the myth of the Callahan Dynasty, that our beloved longest reigning champion could not survive outside of his comfort zone. I let a belief in fate conquer logic, I know I should've scouted Saint, I should've trained harder, focused longer and should have entered that match as I did at Survive and Conquer. I didn't, I let faith be my guide, I knew what the company wanted, I knew they wanted me and Callahan one last time, I just had to trust that everything would work for the best. I turned my back on my own advice and it cost me dearly, a moment that sunk in as a lay there watch Keaton Saint hoist the only thing in the world I held dear high above his head.
Phil takes a few sips out of his whisky glass and scratches his knee, because why not.
Atken: Yet when the weight of expectation begins to take hold with the pressure of performance, Keaton Saint crumbles. He crumbled against Terry Marvin on multiple occasions and he certainly crumbled against Michael Callahan with all of this industries eyeballs baring down on him. He took what was mine but he didn't own it, he didn't believe it was his himself and he never got to establish it as his own. It was taken from him before he could even slap on a Saint nameplate, it was taken from Asylum and thanks to Keaton Saint, I will never get the chance to destroy the mystique around the political fraudster once and for all. No, now he gets to travel on the Overdrive bus, tossing out the same tall tales. I understand that the man who once tried to run Asylum as his own anti-abortion tool is now looking to be the hero of the brand. I weep for this industry sometimes, I really do.
Atken holds up a picture of a crying Indian.
Atken: He weeps for this industry too. Then again he also weeps about littering, he's a sensitive soul, I'm sure he makes a fine husband. The point being, Callahan tailed it not because of a lust for competition but because he knows there's a man who can beat him who was waiting in the wings. A man who he stood across from, a man he had to surrender to, a man who should've be owed his rightful rematch but instead now has been cast down the ladder once more, a man who is expected to be used to elevate the next golden boy on his path to excellence.
When will this place learn that I'm not the guy you do that with, I'm not Mr. Dangerous. You want to give your next iconic Megastar a little exhibition of his skills, throw him up against that schmuck. God knows I'm awestruck any time he manages to actually make his way down to the ring, every more when he picks up a victory because someone who has crashed to the bottom rung of this place slipped on an unfortunately placed banana peel. We work in a bewildering place sometimes.
Christian Kane, I once got you confused with the very talented actor Christian Kane, I think it has something to do with the names. Still, the truth is, with a name like that, you caught my attention, mostly because right up until your debut I was still expecting that actor to walk out to the ring. That dude is hella buff so I reckoned he could pull it off. He does all them fight scenes on Leverage and I think he done a couple in Angel too, I'm sure he would make a great wrestler. It was however enough to catch my attention Christian. I knew you were destined to move from Meltdown at a rapid pace, you had the look, you had the build, you had the confidence, I believe that the kids these days would say that you were pretty damn swag. Whatever that means. You caught my attention and that is a rare thing to do Christian, I'm not entirely sure what happens on Overdrive most of the time, does that one guy still have rabies because I really think that is really pushing it in terms of a healthy work environment. I'm surprised whoever is running that Titanic hasn't steered it right into the iceberg. Is it still Rebel because he'd be drunk enough to smash that show right into the ground. Sorry, got caught up in some kind of accidental cross brand smack talk there, no idea how that happened.
Christian, I don't pay attention to many in this company, to me, they all play that same tired game. They talk about heart, they talk about dedication, they think that they deserve to win just because they show a little bit of hustle. They foolishly believe that soul will lead them to victory over mind and to be honest, that just bores me. I'm tired of that cliché because it has been fired at me so many times. I didn't deserve to be champion because I took a few shortcuts, I didn't deserve to be champion because I was cold and calculating, they felt that they could fell me by sheer will power alone. Bailey, Kash, Talfourd and even Callahan thought that due to their dedication to training and to suffering for this art that they would be able to take down the man who got to the top through using one single tool.
Phil taps top of his skull in the brainal region of his mindskullbrain.
Atken: Those who come up here and talk about being the best wrestler, they don't interest me, they don't show the insight worthy of holding a position at the top. They are not ones who could ever benefit from my teachings. Yet you Christian, sure you may have the looks but you understand this game better than they do and I suppose that's why it is going to hurt me just a smidge when I have to use you as a tool on Sunday. I wish we hadn't been forced to collide dearest CK, I would've loved to watch you climb the ranks, I would have cheered on your victory as the next Tap Out or Suicidal champion, I would've gladly watched your star rise and grow brighter with every passing Asylum. Perhaps you would've been ready to take up my cause when my wrestling boots finally get stuffed away in a cupboard and I become a family man. In so many ways, you are the perfect vessel to represent the truth of wrestling, you don't hide behind vague platitudes, you don't pander, you know what you want and you know how best to get there.
And yet, Christian, I sadly have to send you hurtling down to the bottom of the ladder at a time when you should be establishing yourself as a true force on Asylum. I almost feel like we're breaking up before a relationship could even blossom when I tell you that it isn't you, it's me. Please don't blame yourself for what I inflict upon you in Uruguay. I wish they could have given me anyone else upon my return to Asylum and yet the cards have already been dealt and we must make do with the hands we have. You have been cast in a quite unfortunate role, unfortunate for you, unfortunate for me. Hey, at least I'm living up to the moniker this time around.
It's quite simple Mr. Kane, this company tried to forget about me, they tried to bury me beneath the ground, they didn't let me step foot in Toronto. I should've been there, that Rasslemania moment should have been mine, I should have been standing tall as the fireworks went kaboom and kablammo around me, firmly established as THE World Heavyweight Champion, the GREATEST World Heavyweight Champion the brand has and will ever see. Instead, I wasn't even on the show. Not even allowed to warm up the crowd, it was like the high point of my career never even happened to these people. They were already playing with their new toys and I was discarded to the Island of Misfit Toys, never to return but as it turns out, I built myself a damn boat. I built myself a damn boat and rowed the hell off of that island and Christian, this misfit toy, he's just a little bit peeved that he was abandoned and left for dead. He's just a little bit on edge about the entire thing if I'm honest with you.
So I have returned, I have returned with one goal in mind, I will tear this place down with my bear hands, piece by piece until it is left as the wreck that they thought I was. I thought I could educate APW, I thought I could lift the discourse, that I could allow rationality and sanity prevail. I tried to protect the talent from danger, I tried to get the Megastars to stop trusting blindly in faith and yet the company ended up consuming me, no matter how hard I tried to fight it. It hurts to think a man like Stefan Raab got to push his agenda against our dear leader at Rasslemania, an agenda that serves nothing but himself. I'm altruistic, I wanted to help, I wanted to turn this place into the shining beacon of what wrestling SHOULD be.
So I've been stuck thinking about APW Christian, I've been stuck thinking about how to change it, how to get it to become what I want to see. Someone once told me to become the change you want, or maybe that was a movie I watched... some indian dude rambling on for ages... really boring now I think about it. I tried to follow that message, I became the change I wanted, I embodied everything that should have been, I became THE champion of the company and yet I still didn't matter, I still couldn't impact the place, despite the gold glistening off my waist, no one wanted to listen.
Now though, now I just wish to inflict a little bit of damage to this place, now I want to just give them that ping of panic when they realise that this time around, they can't stop me, that they regret giving me the chance to get off the island, Christian. Sadly, that pain has to begin with you, not out of my choice but out of the companies' decisions. They are the ones who have sent you to the slaughter. They have been the ones to guide you into the abattoir. They wanted to rise your flag through me, sadly though I have to set it alight instead. I need to give out the warning shot, it's just common courtesy.
Please just remember as you nurse your wounds, I am not the man to blame for what is to come.
