Post by Jules on Mar 13, 2012 20:27:29 GMT -4
Date: Thursday 8th Match 2012
Location: the venue of Thursday Night Overdrive
It had been two hours since the show had gone off air and the live audience at filed out of the Rupp Arena full of anticipation and excitement for what was to come in just over two weeks at Rasslemania. For the Overdrive Megastars it gave them 17 days to recuperate, heal their bodies, and ensure they are fully prepared for the biggest night of their careers. It is the one night that the APW management have been working towards ever since the Rasslemania VII post-show party shut down; for C.J. Gates it is the culmination of all his hard work over the last twelve months; for APW legends Level-One and Sally Talfourd it is the opportunity to resurrect their own unique brand of magic one last time; for those striving to prove the dominance of either Overdrive or Asylum this night is the chance to establish their career here in APW.
For John Dionysus Rasslemania had come to symbolise many things: identity, belonging, self-overcoming, recognition, respect, survival.
But the weeks of build-up had taken its toll on his body and his mind; the malevolence of Michael Harris had broken his body and left in doubt his participation in the event. The APW Xtreme Championship belt meant a great deal to John Dionysus, but the threat of Michael Harris extended beyond that to the very survival of his career itself. There could be no doubt about it, Michael Harris wanted to end not only John Dionysus’ short reign as the Xtreme Champion, but to end John Dionysus himself.
What better way could there be to impress the management than to take another man out? Not to beat him, but to subject him to total physical and mental destruction – this was Michael Harris’ aim, driven on by his own narcissism and lust for power. For a man like Harris, someone like John Dionysus was not an object to overcome and defeat, but a barrier than needed to be destroyed beyond recognition and restoration.
Yet John Dionysus had allowed Michael Harris to seize the initiative in this rivalry. From the very moment Harris had struck that first blow he had succeeded in slowly dismantled Dionysus’ body and methodically chipped away at his mind. There was no doubt: Michael Harris was in John Dionysus head.
As John Dionysus limped to his car and tried to fight the pain throbbing from his heavily strapped ribs, to him Rasslemania had ceased to be about something like belonging, identity or recognition....it had become all about pride.
Pride
noun
1. a high or inordinate opinion of one’s own dignity, importance, merit, or superiority, whether as cherished in the mind or as displayed in bearing, conduct, etc.
“You’re in danger of becoming obsessive.”
John Dionysus looked up from the computer screen at his agent Vern Wheeler who had uttered these words. Since accompanying Dionysus to last week’s edition of Overdrive Wheeler had not returned to his home in Portland. Dionysus had been happy to accommodate Wheeler for a few days as he recovered from the bruising to his ribs sustained at the hands of Michael Harris, but Dionysus had the feeling the agent had overstayed his welcome.
Dionysus turned back to his computer and continued his research. Wheeler shook his head, walked across and pushed down the screen on the laptop.
“What are you doing?”
“You need to stop this. You’ve been on that computer for three days straight. If I knew you were looking at porn I wouldn’t care, but I know every day search is on the same topic: Michael Harris.”
“What is your problem, Vern? I’m trying to prepare for my match at Rasslemania?”
“No, you are obsessing about your opponent.”
“So what! This guy has been obsessed with me for weeks now; obsessed with breaking my body just to make some kind of statement.”
“Guess what? It worked.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s in your head.”
“And you’re trying my damn patience.”
Dionysus knew Wheeler was right, he knew that Michael Harris had succeeded in infiltrating his mind to the point that all Dionysus could think about was Harris, his repeated attacks, and how much he wanted to enact some kind of retribution at Rasslemania.
“Listen to me Vern,” Dionysus began, this time with a calmer tone. “I need to do this. I need to find out what this Harris is all about, I need to find out what makes him tick, try and find some weakness.”
“No, what you need to do is beat the guy at Rasslemania. You’re not going to beat this guy by researching his career and his life story; you’re not writing the man’s biography, you’re wrestling him.”
“If I get my way I’ll be the one writing his wrestling obituary.”
“There you go, that’s the spirit. Sitting at this computer trying to find out what days of the week Michael Harris washes his hair, or what filling he prefers in his sandwiches....”
“Don’t try and be glib with me Vern,” Dionysus interjected. “You know damn well that isn’t what I am doing.”
“Well, you might as well, it sure would be a sight more interesting than watching all those matches of him from way back then, or trawling the internet for this or that soundbite from some promo he cut in some backyard wrestling promotion in the late 90s.”
“You’re doing it again.”
“Yeah, you’re right, but it’s because this whole enterprise is ridiculous. You didn’t become the Xtreme Champion by sitting at a computer screen and analysing your opponents, you did it in the ring, by being prepared to get the job done in the ring.”
“Well, training is off limits this week; doctor’s orders.”
“Fine, but do something more constructive with your time. Geez John, when was the last time you did something that wasn’t wrestling related?”
Dionysus thought about it, he didn’t need to though because the realisation instantly struck him that it had been longer than he could remember since he had done anything removed from his career as a professional wrestler.
“If you can’t do any training, why don’t we go down to Vegas, blow off some steam...you know what I mean?”
Wheeler winked, Dionysus snorted and shook his head.
“Come on John!” Wheeler pleaded. “What is wrong with you? Can’t you see what this guy has done to you? You just beat the Overdrive Champion and all you can think about is some guy who hasn’t beat you and has to resort to cheap shots to get your attention.”
“It’s not the man’s cheap shots that bother me; it’s the pride he takes in that kind of action.”
Wheeler sat down and exhaled heavily. “And that bothers you why?”
Dionysus eyed his agent suspiciously, the answer seemed obvious to him.
“Because that’s not how I go about doing things.”
Wheeler gestured with his hands for Dionysus to continue.
“I earned that Championship belt, and I didn’t have to go around delivering cheap shots or making sneak attacks. I got the belt through hard graft in the ring. All Michael Harris did was talk some smack about why I don’t deserve it, and proceed to attack me like a sly snake.”
“Right, but it worked didn’t it?”
Dionysus looked confused. Wheeler sighed and spelt it out for his client.
“He got what he wanted, he got a match with you at Rasslemania with the title on the line. He got inside your head and he broke you down with his repeated outbursts and his attacks, can’t you see that. He had been playing you for weeks and you sang every song he wanted you to sing.”
“He took a shortcut to a title shot.”
“Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. That’s just how you’re seeing it.”
“No, that’s how it is. On top of that he runs his mouth about being ‘The Untouchable One’, about his hardcore legacy, his accusation that I am an illegitimate champion etc. Okay, let’s say you’re right and he did play me, and he got what he wanted. But that’s as far as it goes: when we get to Rasslemania I’m going to prove to Harris that in spite of all of his conceit, in spite of the fact he may have used some cheap psychology to get a shot at me, if you try to burn me the way has tried do in recent weeks there are consequences.”
Wheeler smirked and gave out a short chuckle.
“So there it is,” Wheeler began. “That’s the crux of the matter.”
Dionysus’ facial expression asked the question, Wheeler continued through his smirk.
“Is it really Michael Harris who is guilty of conceitedness here? Or is it you John?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Don’t be so defensive. The stone cold truth of the matter John is that your pride is hurt by all of this. You’re annoyed that somebody like Michael Harris had the audacity to make a play at you, but not only to make a play but to strike with repeated success and show everyone just how vulnerable you are.”
Dionysus did not answer; it was difficult to accept his own guilt. He knew that he probably had been arrogant in his attitude towards Harris. It had angered him that Harris should just come into APW and try to throw his weight around the way he did; it was not the way Dionysus did or had done things, and he has always prided himself by act in accordance with some appropriate ethical code, even in a business as renowned for back-stabbing as professional wrestling. He carried himself this way because he wanted to be something more, something that could be looked up. Up until now he hadn’t realised how smug and holier-than-thou this sounded.
“John, you have to realise what you’re into and the position you find yourself in. This isn’t some socialist democracy you’re involved in, it’s not even meritocratic. Nobody on the roster is looking up to you with admiration; they look at you like a despotic oligarch with a huge target on your back. You are a member of the empowered elite and you have something a guy like Michael Harris wants and he is willing to do anything to take it from you.”
Wheeler chuckles to himself then continues.
“Did you think APW was some kind of wrestling feudalism, where the peasants like Michael Harris come begging for a favour and a title shot? It’s ‘might is right’, you take what you can get and give nothing in return. Johnny, I know you have your ‘code of ethics’ or whatever, and that is admirable, it will make you a good man and probably a great champion, but only if you accept the fact that 90% of the guys you are competing with are egotistical, greedy, bloodthirsty animals scrapping for very scarce resources in the form of Championship gold. You don’t have to embrace that culture, but you have to accept there are plenty who will, and that pedestal you’ve put yourself on has blocked your view of what is really going on beneath you. That blindness and your pride will cost you that title if you don’t let it go.”
Dionysus became lost in thought. He had believed in what he was trying to achieve. In short it was to be a successful wrestler, something he had failed to do in the preceding fifteen years of his career, but he wanted to do as a man who people looked to for inspiration, not simply as some guy who won a few titles. For Dionysus that is what being an icon was, being something that transcended your mere existence as a wrestler or as an athlete, it was the self-transformation into an ideal or a principle.
Maybe it was arrogance that led him to such thoughts, maybe Wheeler was right and it was Dionysus who was the conceited person, not Harris.
Did Dionysus demand respect from Harris though? He did, but then this would be earned in the ring; that he was pretty certain of, even if the man never admitted.
However, did Dionysus expect Harris to pay him homage as Wheeler implied? That was a much more difficult question to answer, and an enquiry Dionysus was at this point afraid to engage with.
One thing he did know, however, was that he would have to accept he had probably been too proud up to this point, even to the point where he may have underestimated the threat Michael Harris posed. Harris’ actions in recent weeks, as unscrupulous and callous as Dionysus thought they were, were not to be balked at; this was a man who seriously threatened the existence of John Dionysus’ wrestling career – he had to be taken seriously.
If he wasn’t one thing was certain: it would be a lot more than Dionysus’ pride hurt at Rasslemania.
Pride
noun
2. pleasure or satisfaction taken in something done by or belonging to oneself or believed to reflect credit upon oneself: civic pride.
APW.com previews the much anticipated Xtreme Championship at Rasslemania.
The next stop on our road to Rasslemania preview takes in the views of the conflict between John Dionysus and Michael Harris for the APW Xtreme Champion. While the focus of APW’s grandest night rightfully rests upon the burning issues of who will come out the other end as the company’s current dominant force, and the settling of old legendary scores, hidden deep amongst the mid-card is this match which may offer the fan a glimpse into the future of APW.
It has been a while since the Xtreme Title has been of such singular importance in APW, but slowly the momentum has shifted in its favour. The gossip from the locker room is that both John Dionysus and Michael Harris are highly thought of, and already the corridors of power are awash with hopes and projections of what these two may produce under the company’s colours. This match may give us the nudge as to which of these two has succeeded in convincing the gatekeeper of his admission.
This key for the Xtreme Championship, a much-maligned Championship in the current context of the APW roster, but one that has served well, and has been served well by, many an APW legend in the past. The issue here is as much about this Championship’s status within APW as it is about the burgeoning ambitions of the respective combatants.
When John Dionysus claimed ‘the title nobody wanted’ in APW’s first ever Ultimate-X match shortly after the Survive & Conquer pay-per-view few batted an eyelid, let alone paid much notice to the fact that a title that was good enough for APW greats such as us John Green, Jason Royce, Branden Harvey and the recently returned Pence Weatherlight had found itself a new champion. But as Dionysus’ name has increased in stock following a series of impressive performances on Overdrive, so too has that of the belt around his waist.
However, the resurrection of the Xtreme Championship has not been a singular action and at this point in our story enters the antagonist Michael Harris. By no means a rookie in wrestling terms, and while past accolades in alien environments may count for very little in APW, early performances suggest Harris is a man with the weaponry to reach the summit here in APW. Not only has the self-proclaimed Untouchable One proven himself an equal amongst such pillars of the APW community as Keaton Saint and the current Overdrive Champion Terry Marvin, he has successfully manipulated his target in order to create this golden opportunity.
Callous opportunism I hear you cry? Maybe so, but even the most polarised reader cannot deny that Michael Harris has done his part in restoring pride to a belt that until a few weeks ago looked merely the token promotional gesture to a man in John Dionysus who many clearly saw a brighter future.
Herein lies the importance of this match: it is not an egotistical squabble between two wrestlers; it is not the final pay-off in a long-lasting rivalry; it is not about providing invitation to the party to a future star. No, in this columnist’s mind, this bout is all about the pride of the championship itself. It is a struggle between two men who fight not for what lies beyond the Xtreme Championship, but for the right and the honour to represent the Xtreme amongst the highest and grandest at the table.
This match is not about gimmicks, but about something that is unique, something that does not fit in somewhere in the hierarchy, but stands alone, and shines like a jewel, as something that has full worth in itself.
The pride is returning to the Xtreme in APW because men like John Dionysus and Michael Harris lay their lives down to fight for it.
Pride
noun
3. a becoming or dignified sense of what is due to oneself or one's position or character; self-respect; self-esteem.
“What does the APW Xtreme Championship belt mean to you?”
John Dionysus was sat across from the psychologist. Dionysus’ visits were infrequent, and mostly at the insistence of his agent Vern Wheeler. They were always met with a measure of resistance by Dionysus, and today’s charade was all about passive-aggressive.
“What do all those certificates that adorn your office wall mean to you?”
The question was asked by Dionysus with no small measure of sarcasm.
“This session is not about me Mr. Dionysus, but would it satisfy your prejudices if I told you they were about power.”
“That would depend on whether that was honesty.”
“We are not here to discuss my integrity. I should not have to remind you that it was your choice to walk through the door of my office and sit in my $750 leather chair. Nobody has compelled you to come, in spite of your latent protestations to the contrary.”
There was a silence; uncomfortable for Dionysus, routine for the psychologist. He had grappled with much fiercer and much more complex patients. John Dionysus, to the psychologist’s mind, was a simple case of inferiority complex masked as laissez faire bravado.
“So Mr. Dionysus, do you have an answer to my question?”
“Is ‘power’ the answer you are looking for?”
The psychologist shrugged his shoulders. This jostling could continue like this for the whole hour he thought, it made no difference if this man wanted to try and waste the psychologist’s time with these desperate attempts at being exasperating; if Dionysus were to walk out now or carry on this game for another fifty minutes the charge would be the same.
Silence descended upon the office. The psychologist could see the effect was more profoundly felt by the man sat across from him; the psychologist decided to cast aside his cynicism and extend an olive branch.
“They are a symbol of accomplishment and respect.”
“Come again,” was Dionysus’ terse response.
“The certificates. They are symbol of my professional accomplishments, therefore they incite respect and inspire trust and assurance in every person who walks through my door.”
“Do they give you a feeling of pride?”
“Yes. They are a mark of the many years of hard work and sacrifice I have given in order to find myself in this position.”
“As a man who owns an office with a $750 leather chair?”
“If you want to think of it that way,” the psychologist said without any irony, continuing after a brief pause. “But it is more than that: the certificates and this office are a symbol of my esteem in my professional community. People are inspired by credentials, they are comforted by expertise.”
Dionysus gave no response; the psychologist studied him hard and after a few seconds played his hand.
“I’m sure a man of your professional background can readily understand that.”
“Well it’s not my job to buy people’s confidence; I’m just a fighter and an athlete, nobody is looking for me to help them with their problems.”
“The example is an analogy Mr. Dionysus...”
Before the psychologist could finish he was interrupted by the Xtreme Champion.
“But I know what you mean by sacrifice.”
The psychologist smiled: the fish had taken the bait; the rapport had been established.
“Is that what the Xtreme Championship belt means to you?”
“In a word: yes.”
“What have you sacrificed to get it?”
“On the surface, for this belt I have sacrificed very little. But it represents everything I’ve had to sacrifice in my life and my career to be able to get to the point where I could win the belt.”
“Does it make up for what you feel was previously lost.”
“Make up for it? Not quite. Believe there are dark voids in my soul that no amount of titles or wins can fill.” Dionysus paused for a few seconds, the psychologist was happy to let him think and continue at his own pace. “But it certainly validates a lot of the choices I made along the way.”
“Do you feel pride in your achievement?”
This was again the crux of the matter. John Dionysus had spent a lot of time recently thinking about pride. Not a few days ago he had discussed ‘his pride’ with his agent and the matter was fresh in his mind. He had left that conversation pained by the thought he his ‘bad pride’ had somehow blinded him and made him weaker, more exposed to the advances of Michael Harris. However, was this the same thing? Was any pride he felt here another inhibitor of his development?
“I feel proud that I have managed to overcome so much to get here. If you asked me twelve months ago whether I thought I would be defending a Championship belt at the biggest pay per view of year for one of the wrestling’ industry’s top promotions I would have called you an idiot. But here I stand, so I guess, yeah, I kind of feel proud about that fact.”
“Well done to you Mr. Dionysus. I do know your history, and I would agree that you have overcome much to get to where you are. But I have another question for you.”
“Go ahead.”
“Since our last consultation I have been following your progress on television, I have seen the attacks that have been instigated against you. The psychology of the situation is interesting, and this week you broke. For weeks Michael Harris had provoked you and you did not buckle, you took his repeated offences against you like a true stoic, but not this week.”
Dionysus smiled inside: he had a feeling this would come; it wouldn’t have surprised him if Wheeler had briefed the shrink beforehand. Dionysus decided to second guess the snake.
“You want to know whether Michael Harris has damaged my pride?”
The psychologist smiled in affirmation.
“Of course he did. Three times I was left in a black hole of pain at his hands. He outsmarted and he emasculated me three weeks in a row. Of course he shook my pride and bruised not only my ribs, but also my soul.”
Dionysus paused before adding.
“However, nothing he did or could do damaged and curbed my pride as much as what I did to myself. The truth of the matter is that I allowed those attacks to go unchecked, and I allowed Michael Harris to slowly chip away at my body and my pride until I was pushed to the brink. I know what it has done and how it reflects on how people in my organisation perceive me.”
“When it comes to Rasslemania, is your motive revenge?”
“Not at all: revenge would be totally wrongheaded; revenge would be my conceit taking charge of me. The pride I talked to you about was not the pride of conceit, which is the same pride that allowed me give Michael Harris free license, and also desires some kind of recompense. I believe Nietzsche called it ressentiment, as the psychologist I’m sure you understand that better than I do.”
The psychologist smiled and nodded his head in respect at Dionysus’ self-analysis. The Xtreme Champion continued.
“I’m proud not of the honour the Championship belt bestows upon me, but that I am the man who has been chosen to restore honour to the belt. I know that probably sounds a little bit conceited, but I believe there is a subtle difference. The way I look at it, doc, is that I have a responsibility to the title and as long as I ignored a guy like Michael Harris I was failing to meet that responsibility. When I look at it now I know I should have met this challenge head on right away and nipped it in the bud weeks ago.”
“Maybe your conceit got the best of you, what with Rasslemania so close on the horizon.”
“Maybe doc, maybe.”
“Tell me, what is this responsibility you speak of?”
“Quite simply, it is to be the champion this title deserves. If I’m being completely honest here I have to confess that maybe I have been a little bit wrapped up in the pride of being the champion, rather than being a champion to be proud of. I know one thing I certainly haven’t done is convey to the APW fans just how important this championship belt is to me, and not because I get to walk around the place like a Terry Marvin and tell everyone great I am because I am the Champion, but because the belt’s very purpose demands I become a great champion.”
“And that is you, not Michael Harris?”
“It can never be a man like Michael Harris, even you must see that?”
The psychologist shrugs his shoulders to indicate he is not committed to an opinion either way and draws the focus back to Dionysus.
“So you see yourself as the crusader who will restore honour to a title whose reputation promotes a lack of valour?”
“There is honour even amongst thieves.”
The psychologist doffs his head as if to say ‘touche’.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to convince anybody I’m some kind of white knight. After all, I am a guy who came back to wrestling for his own motivations and to achieve my own goals. I want to be the Xtreme Champion and I do want to people to think of me as someone who made this Championship belt relevant again. If that is conceited then I guess I am guilty as charged, but I want it done the right way. I’m not going to cede to the strongarm tactics of men like Michael Harris who want to take it all and give nothing in return.”
Dionysus stops again and thinks for a few seconds before he finishes this part of the conversation with: “I want this to be the start of a legacy that puts the Xtreme Championship belt back at the heart of APW competition, not one that subjugates it to the whims and follies of men like Michael Harris.”
I’m proud to call myself the Xtreme Champion here in APW.
I’m not proud because it confers honour and status on me. I won’t lie that such things do have their benefits, but the source of my pride runs deeper than that.
I don’t carry the Championship belt around with me because I think it entitles me to say ‘I’m the best’, or even that ‘I’m better than such and such’. I leave these conceited delusions to men like Terry Marvin who seem to claim the championship’s value results from his holding it. For me this Championship tells me that I have overcome myself; I have battled long and hard over many years just to get to this position, and that I am able to hold a title has prestigious as an APW one makes me proud of the fact I succeeded in overcoming some of my many shortcomings and barriers that have always blocked my way.
I know the Xtreme Championship represents a certain set of ideals and disciplines, and as long as I am the man who holds it I will always do my utmost to adhere to and respect this championship’s unique perimeters. But by doing so does it mean I am the world’s best Xtreme wrestler? The funny thing is, I don’t even consider myself an Xtreme wrestler, let alone the world’s best.
Michael Harris does believe he is the man who should hold that prestigious title.
But here’s the thing: I don’t believe that, nor do I believe Michael Harris really believes that, nor do I believe Michael Harris really cares about that title.
Michael, you’ve made a pretty big deal while you’ve been here of trying to convince everyone you are a big deal. Whether you are or whether you aren’t is not my position to judge, but actions speak louder than words as you so sagely put it to me, and your actions do not fill me with any confidence in your claim.
Don’t get me wrong Michael, I know you are a great competitor. I’ve watched you very closely in recent weeks, I’ve shared the ring with you, I’ve been left reeling in agony by you, so I know exactly what you are capable of. But it takes more to being a big deal than calling out a guy, which you never had the decency or the stones to do with me, or simply exposing his vulnerability to cheap shot after cheap shot.
Here’s the thing Michael: I never figured why you picked me. You’re ‘The Untouchable One’, in your own words you are simply better than me , yet you came after me. You’ve told me that the idea of me being Xtreme Champion makes you feel sick, that I cannot handle the heat you bring, and that the Xtreme Championship belt will look a whole lot better around your waist than it does around mine.
Maybe you’re right Michael, but I just cannot align in my own mind what you say and what you do. I’ve asked myself the same question for the past three weeks: why did you target me if you have so much contempt for me? You claim it’s because you want the Xtreme Championship, but I think the truth is that you thought I was an easy target. You came into APW and you wanted to cover yourself in some glory, but instead of aiming high you aimed low. Easy money, right?
The only problem is that you picked a man who was never going to lie down and let you walk right on into his house. I may not be a C.J. Gates or a Terry Marvin, but I am no man’s bitch. You thought you could bully me and strongarm your way to this title, well I’ll give you some credit, you did rattle my cage a little and you succeeded in getting the better of me on more than one occasion. But when it comes to Rasslemania you’re going to see that claiming the Xtreme title will not be the walkover you always believed it would be.
Our time is coming and when that bell rings I know that when we’ve both given and lost everything in that ring only one thing remains: pride. While you, Michael, fight for your own, I will struggle for the pride of the championship itself, and the principle that I believe drives our sport: that great champions are better men, not just men who want to better themselves.
*
Location: the venue of Thursday Night Overdrive
It had been two hours since the show had gone off air and the live audience at filed out of the Rupp Arena full of anticipation and excitement for what was to come in just over two weeks at Rasslemania. For the Overdrive Megastars it gave them 17 days to recuperate, heal their bodies, and ensure they are fully prepared for the biggest night of their careers. It is the one night that the APW management have been working towards ever since the Rasslemania VII post-show party shut down; for C.J. Gates it is the culmination of all his hard work over the last twelve months; for APW legends Level-One and Sally Talfourd it is the opportunity to resurrect their own unique brand of magic one last time; for those striving to prove the dominance of either Overdrive or Asylum this night is the chance to establish their career here in APW.
For John Dionysus Rasslemania had come to symbolise many things: identity, belonging, self-overcoming, recognition, respect, survival.
But the weeks of build-up had taken its toll on his body and his mind; the malevolence of Michael Harris had broken his body and left in doubt his participation in the event. The APW Xtreme Championship belt meant a great deal to John Dionysus, but the threat of Michael Harris extended beyond that to the very survival of his career itself. There could be no doubt about it, Michael Harris wanted to end not only John Dionysus’ short reign as the Xtreme Champion, but to end John Dionysus himself.
What better way could there be to impress the management than to take another man out? Not to beat him, but to subject him to total physical and mental destruction – this was Michael Harris’ aim, driven on by his own narcissism and lust for power. For a man like Harris, someone like John Dionysus was not an object to overcome and defeat, but a barrier than needed to be destroyed beyond recognition and restoration.
Yet John Dionysus had allowed Michael Harris to seize the initiative in this rivalry. From the very moment Harris had struck that first blow he had succeeded in slowly dismantled Dionysus’ body and methodically chipped away at his mind. There was no doubt: Michael Harris was in John Dionysus head.
As John Dionysus limped to his car and tried to fight the pain throbbing from his heavily strapped ribs, to him Rasslemania had ceased to be about something like belonging, identity or recognition....it had become all about pride.
*
ǀ part one ǀ
Pride
noun
1. a high or inordinate opinion of one’s own dignity, importance, merit, or superiority, whether as cherished in the mind or as displayed in bearing, conduct, etc.
“You’re in danger of becoming obsessive.”
John Dionysus looked up from the computer screen at his agent Vern Wheeler who had uttered these words. Since accompanying Dionysus to last week’s edition of Overdrive Wheeler had not returned to his home in Portland. Dionysus had been happy to accommodate Wheeler for a few days as he recovered from the bruising to his ribs sustained at the hands of Michael Harris, but Dionysus had the feeling the agent had overstayed his welcome.
Dionysus turned back to his computer and continued his research. Wheeler shook his head, walked across and pushed down the screen on the laptop.
“What are you doing?”
“You need to stop this. You’ve been on that computer for three days straight. If I knew you were looking at porn I wouldn’t care, but I know every day search is on the same topic: Michael Harris.”
“What is your problem, Vern? I’m trying to prepare for my match at Rasslemania?”
“No, you are obsessing about your opponent.”
“So what! This guy has been obsessed with me for weeks now; obsessed with breaking my body just to make some kind of statement.”
“Guess what? It worked.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s in your head.”
“And you’re trying my damn patience.”
Dionysus knew Wheeler was right, he knew that Michael Harris had succeeded in infiltrating his mind to the point that all Dionysus could think about was Harris, his repeated attacks, and how much he wanted to enact some kind of retribution at Rasslemania.
“Listen to me Vern,” Dionysus began, this time with a calmer tone. “I need to do this. I need to find out what this Harris is all about, I need to find out what makes him tick, try and find some weakness.”
“No, what you need to do is beat the guy at Rasslemania. You’re not going to beat this guy by researching his career and his life story; you’re not writing the man’s biography, you’re wrestling him.”
“If I get my way I’ll be the one writing his wrestling obituary.”
“There you go, that’s the spirit. Sitting at this computer trying to find out what days of the week Michael Harris washes his hair, or what filling he prefers in his sandwiches....”
“Don’t try and be glib with me Vern,” Dionysus interjected. “You know damn well that isn’t what I am doing.”
“Well, you might as well, it sure would be a sight more interesting than watching all those matches of him from way back then, or trawling the internet for this or that soundbite from some promo he cut in some backyard wrestling promotion in the late 90s.”
“You’re doing it again.”
“Yeah, you’re right, but it’s because this whole enterprise is ridiculous. You didn’t become the Xtreme Champion by sitting at a computer screen and analysing your opponents, you did it in the ring, by being prepared to get the job done in the ring.”
“Well, training is off limits this week; doctor’s orders.”
“Fine, but do something more constructive with your time. Geez John, when was the last time you did something that wasn’t wrestling related?”
Dionysus thought about it, he didn’t need to though because the realisation instantly struck him that it had been longer than he could remember since he had done anything removed from his career as a professional wrestler.
“If you can’t do any training, why don’t we go down to Vegas, blow off some steam...you know what I mean?”
Wheeler winked, Dionysus snorted and shook his head.
“Come on John!” Wheeler pleaded. “What is wrong with you? Can’t you see what this guy has done to you? You just beat the Overdrive Champion and all you can think about is some guy who hasn’t beat you and has to resort to cheap shots to get your attention.”
“It’s not the man’s cheap shots that bother me; it’s the pride he takes in that kind of action.”
Wheeler sat down and exhaled heavily. “And that bothers you why?”
Dionysus eyed his agent suspiciously, the answer seemed obvious to him.
“Because that’s not how I go about doing things.”
Wheeler gestured with his hands for Dionysus to continue.
“I earned that Championship belt, and I didn’t have to go around delivering cheap shots or making sneak attacks. I got the belt through hard graft in the ring. All Michael Harris did was talk some smack about why I don’t deserve it, and proceed to attack me like a sly snake.”
“Right, but it worked didn’t it?”
Dionysus looked confused. Wheeler sighed and spelt it out for his client.
“He got what he wanted, he got a match with you at Rasslemania with the title on the line. He got inside your head and he broke you down with his repeated outbursts and his attacks, can’t you see that. He had been playing you for weeks and you sang every song he wanted you to sing.”
“He took a shortcut to a title shot.”
“Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. That’s just how you’re seeing it.”
“No, that’s how it is. On top of that he runs his mouth about being ‘The Untouchable One’, about his hardcore legacy, his accusation that I am an illegitimate champion etc. Okay, let’s say you’re right and he did play me, and he got what he wanted. But that’s as far as it goes: when we get to Rasslemania I’m going to prove to Harris that in spite of all of his conceit, in spite of the fact he may have used some cheap psychology to get a shot at me, if you try to burn me the way has tried do in recent weeks there are consequences.”
Wheeler smirked and gave out a short chuckle.
“So there it is,” Wheeler began. “That’s the crux of the matter.”
Dionysus’ facial expression asked the question, Wheeler continued through his smirk.
“Is it really Michael Harris who is guilty of conceitedness here? Or is it you John?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Don’t be so defensive. The stone cold truth of the matter John is that your pride is hurt by all of this. You’re annoyed that somebody like Michael Harris had the audacity to make a play at you, but not only to make a play but to strike with repeated success and show everyone just how vulnerable you are.”
Dionysus did not answer; it was difficult to accept his own guilt. He knew that he probably had been arrogant in his attitude towards Harris. It had angered him that Harris should just come into APW and try to throw his weight around the way he did; it was not the way Dionysus did or had done things, and he has always prided himself by act in accordance with some appropriate ethical code, even in a business as renowned for back-stabbing as professional wrestling. He carried himself this way because he wanted to be something more, something that could be looked up. Up until now he hadn’t realised how smug and holier-than-thou this sounded.
“John, you have to realise what you’re into and the position you find yourself in. This isn’t some socialist democracy you’re involved in, it’s not even meritocratic. Nobody on the roster is looking up to you with admiration; they look at you like a despotic oligarch with a huge target on your back. You are a member of the empowered elite and you have something a guy like Michael Harris wants and he is willing to do anything to take it from you.”
Wheeler chuckles to himself then continues.
“Did you think APW was some kind of wrestling feudalism, where the peasants like Michael Harris come begging for a favour and a title shot? It’s ‘might is right’, you take what you can get and give nothing in return. Johnny, I know you have your ‘code of ethics’ or whatever, and that is admirable, it will make you a good man and probably a great champion, but only if you accept the fact that 90% of the guys you are competing with are egotistical, greedy, bloodthirsty animals scrapping for very scarce resources in the form of Championship gold. You don’t have to embrace that culture, but you have to accept there are plenty who will, and that pedestal you’ve put yourself on has blocked your view of what is really going on beneath you. That blindness and your pride will cost you that title if you don’t let it go.”
Dionysus became lost in thought. He had believed in what he was trying to achieve. In short it was to be a successful wrestler, something he had failed to do in the preceding fifteen years of his career, but he wanted to do as a man who people looked to for inspiration, not simply as some guy who won a few titles. For Dionysus that is what being an icon was, being something that transcended your mere existence as a wrestler or as an athlete, it was the self-transformation into an ideal or a principle.
Maybe it was arrogance that led him to such thoughts, maybe Wheeler was right and it was Dionysus who was the conceited person, not Harris.
Did Dionysus demand respect from Harris though? He did, but then this would be earned in the ring; that he was pretty certain of, even if the man never admitted.
However, did Dionysus expect Harris to pay him homage as Wheeler implied? That was a much more difficult question to answer, and an enquiry Dionysus was at this point afraid to engage with.
One thing he did know, however, was that he would have to accept he had probably been too proud up to this point, even to the point where he may have underestimated the threat Michael Harris posed. Harris’ actions in recent weeks, as unscrupulous and callous as Dionysus thought they were, were not to be balked at; this was a man who seriously threatened the existence of John Dionysus’ wrestling career – he had to be taken seriously.
If he wasn’t one thing was certain: it would be a lot more than Dionysus’ pride hurt at Rasslemania.
*
ǀ part two ǀ
Pride
noun
2. pleasure or satisfaction taken in something done by or belonging to oneself or believed to reflect credit upon oneself: civic pride.
APW.com previews the much anticipated Xtreme Championship at Rasslemania.
The next stop on our road to Rasslemania preview takes in the views of the conflict between John Dionysus and Michael Harris for the APW Xtreme Champion. While the focus of APW’s grandest night rightfully rests upon the burning issues of who will come out the other end as the company’s current dominant force, and the settling of old legendary scores, hidden deep amongst the mid-card is this match which may offer the fan a glimpse into the future of APW.
It has been a while since the Xtreme Title has been of such singular importance in APW, but slowly the momentum has shifted in its favour. The gossip from the locker room is that both John Dionysus and Michael Harris are highly thought of, and already the corridors of power are awash with hopes and projections of what these two may produce under the company’s colours. This match may give us the nudge as to which of these two has succeeded in convincing the gatekeeper of his admission.
This key for the Xtreme Championship, a much-maligned Championship in the current context of the APW roster, but one that has served well, and has been served well by, many an APW legend in the past. The issue here is as much about this Championship’s status within APW as it is about the burgeoning ambitions of the respective combatants.
When John Dionysus claimed ‘the title nobody wanted’ in APW’s first ever Ultimate-X match shortly after the Survive & Conquer pay-per-view few batted an eyelid, let alone paid much notice to the fact that a title that was good enough for APW greats such as us John Green, Jason Royce, Branden Harvey and the recently returned Pence Weatherlight had found itself a new champion. But as Dionysus’ name has increased in stock following a series of impressive performances on Overdrive, so too has that of the belt around his waist.
However, the resurrection of the Xtreme Championship has not been a singular action and at this point in our story enters the antagonist Michael Harris. By no means a rookie in wrestling terms, and while past accolades in alien environments may count for very little in APW, early performances suggest Harris is a man with the weaponry to reach the summit here in APW. Not only has the self-proclaimed Untouchable One proven himself an equal amongst such pillars of the APW community as Keaton Saint and the current Overdrive Champion Terry Marvin, he has successfully manipulated his target in order to create this golden opportunity.
Callous opportunism I hear you cry? Maybe so, but even the most polarised reader cannot deny that Michael Harris has done his part in restoring pride to a belt that until a few weeks ago looked merely the token promotional gesture to a man in John Dionysus who many clearly saw a brighter future.
Herein lies the importance of this match: it is not an egotistical squabble between two wrestlers; it is not the final pay-off in a long-lasting rivalry; it is not about providing invitation to the party to a future star. No, in this columnist’s mind, this bout is all about the pride of the championship itself. It is a struggle between two men who fight not for what lies beyond the Xtreme Championship, but for the right and the honour to represent the Xtreme amongst the highest and grandest at the table.
This match is not about gimmicks, but about something that is unique, something that does not fit in somewhere in the hierarchy, but stands alone, and shines like a jewel, as something that has full worth in itself.
The pride is returning to the Xtreme in APW because men like John Dionysus and Michael Harris lay their lives down to fight for it.
*
ǀ part three ǀ
Pride
noun
3. a becoming or dignified sense of what is due to oneself or one's position or character; self-respect; self-esteem.
“What does the APW Xtreme Championship belt mean to you?”
John Dionysus was sat across from the psychologist. Dionysus’ visits were infrequent, and mostly at the insistence of his agent Vern Wheeler. They were always met with a measure of resistance by Dionysus, and today’s charade was all about passive-aggressive.
“What do all those certificates that adorn your office wall mean to you?”
The question was asked by Dionysus with no small measure of sarcasm.
“This session is not about me Mr. Dionysus, but would it satisfy your prejudices if I told you they were about power.”
“That would depend on whether that was honesty.”
“We are not here to discuss my integrity. I should not have to remind you that it was your choice to walk through the door of my office and sit in my $750 leather chair. Nobody has compelled you to come, in spite of your latent protestations to the contrary.”
There was a silence; uncomfortable for Dionysus, routine for the psychologist. He had grappled with much fiercer and much more complex patients. John Dionysus, to the psychologist’s mind, was a simple case of inferiority complex masked as laissez faire bravado.
“So Mr. Dionysus, do you have an answer to my question?”
“Is ‘power’ the answer you are looking for?”
The psychologist shrugged his shoulders. This jostling could continue like this for the whole hour he thought, it made no difference if this man wanted to try and waste the psychologist’s time with these desperate attempts at being exasperating; if Dionysus were to walk out now or carry on this game for another fifty minutes the charge would be the same.
Silence descended upon the office. The psychologist could see the effect was more profoundly felt by the man sat across from him; the psychologist decided to cast aside his cynicism and extend an olive branch.
“They are a symbol of accomplishment and respect.”
“Come again,” was Dionysus’ terse response.
“The certificates. They are symbol of my professional accomplishments, therefore they incite respect and inspire trust and assurance in every person who walks through my door.”
“Do they give you a feeling of pride?”
“Yes. They are a mark of the many years of hard work and sacrifice I have given in order to find myself in this position.”
“As a man who owns an office with a $750 leather chair?”
“If you want to think of it that way,” the psychologist said without any irony, continuing after a brief pause. “But it is more than that: the certificates and this office are a symbol of my esteem in my professional community. People are inspired by credentials, they are comforted by expertise.”
Dionysus gave no response; the psychologist studied him hard and after a few seconds played his hand.
“I’m sure a man of your professional background can readily understand that.”
“Well it’s not my job to buy people’s confidence; I’m just a fighter and an athlete, nobody is looking for me to help them with their problems.”
“The example is an analogy Mr. Dionysus...”
Before the psychologist could finish he was interrupted by the Xtreme Champion.
“But I know what you mean by sacrifice.”
The psychologist smiled: the fish had taken the bait; the rapport had been established.
“Is that what the Xtreme Championship belt means to you?”
“In a word: yes.”
“What have you sacrificed to get it?”
“On the surface, for this belt I have sacrificed very little. But it represents everything I’ve had to sacrifice in my life and my career to be able to get to the point where I could win the belt.”
“Does it make up for what you feel was previously lost.”
“Make up for it? Not quite. Believe there are dark voids in my soul that no amount of titles or wins can fill.” Dionysus paused for a few seconds, the psychologist was happy to let him think and continue at his own pace. “But it certainly validates a lot of the choices I made along the way.”
“Do you feel pride in your achievement?”
This was again the crux of the matter. John Dionysus had spent a lot of time recently thinking about pride. Not a few days ago he had discussed ‘his pride’ with his agent and the matter was fresh in his mind. He had left that conversation pained by the thought he his ‘bad pride’ had somehow blinded him and made him weaker, more exposed to the advances of Michael Harris. However, was this the same thing? Was any pride he felt here another inhibitor of his development?
“I feel proud that I have managed to overcome so much to get here. If you asked me twelve months ago whether I thought I would be defending a Championship belt at the biggest pay per view of year for one of the wrestling’ industry’s top promotions I would have called you an idiot. But here I stand, so I guess, yeah, I kind of feel proud about that fact.”
“Well done to you Mr. Dionysus. I do know your history, and I would agree that you have overcome much to get to where you are. But I have another question for you.”
“Go ahead.”
“Since our last consultation I have been following your progress on television, I have seen the attacks that have been instigated against you. The psychology of the situation is interesting, and this week you broke. For weeks Michael Harris had provoked you and you did not buckle, you took his repeated offences against you like a true stoic, but not this week.”
Dionysus smiled inside: he had a feeling this would come; it wouldn’t have surprised him if Wheeler had briefed the shrink beforehand. Dionysus decided to second guess the snake.
“You want to know whether Michael Harris has damaged my pride?”
The psychologist smiled in affirmation.
“Of course he did. Three times I was left in a black hole of pain at his hands. He outsmarted and he emasculated me three weeks in a row. Of course he shook my pride and bruised not only my ribs, but also my soul.”
Dionysus paused before adding.
“However, nothing he did or could do damaged and curbed my pride as much as what I did to myself. The truth of the matter is that I allowed those attacks to go unchecked, and I allowed Michael Harris to slowly chip away at my body and my pride until I was pushed to the brink. I know what it has done and how it reflects on how people in my organisation perceive me.”
“When it comes to Rasslemania, is your motive revenge?”
“Not at all: revenge would be totally wrongheaded; revenge would be my conceit taking charge of me. The pride I talked to you about was not the pride of conceit, which is the same pride that allowed me give Michael Harris free license, and also desires some kind of recompense. I believe Nietzsche called it ressentiment, as the psychologist I’m sure you understand that better than I do.”
The psychologist smiled and nodded his head in respect at Dionysus’ self-analysis. The Xtreme Champion continued.
“I’m proud not of the honour the Championship belt bestows upon me, but that I am the man who has been chosen to restore honour to the belt. I know that probably sounds a little bit conceited, but I believe there is a subtle difference. The way I look at it, doc, is that I have a responsibility to the title and as long as I ignored a guy like Michael Harris I was failing to meet that responsibility. When I look at it now I know I should have met this challenge head on right away and nipped it in the bud weeks ago.”
“Maybe your conceit got the best of you, what with Rasslemania so close on the horizon.”
“Maybe doc, maybe.”
“Tell me, what is this responsibility you speak of?”
“Quite simply, it is to be the champion this title deserves. If I’m being completely honest here I have to confess that maybe I have been a little bit wrapped up in the pride of being the champion, rather than being a champion to be proud of. I know one thing I certainly haven’t done is convey to the APW fans just how important this championship belt is to me, and not because I get to walk around the place like a Terry Marvin and tell everyone great I am because I am the Champion, but because the belt’s very purpose demands I become a great champion.”
“And that is you, not Michael Harris?”
“It can never be a man like Michael Harris, even you must see that?”
The psychologist shrugs his shoulders to indicate he is not committed to an opinion either way and draws the focus back to Dionysus.
“So you see yourself as the crusader who will restore honour to a title whose reputation promotes a lack of valour?”
“There is honour even amongst thieves.”
The psychologist doffs his head as if to say ‘touche’.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to convince anybody I’m some kind of white knight. After all, I am a guy who came back to wrestling for his own motivations and to achieve my own goals. I want to be the Xtreme Champion and I do want to people to think of me as someone who made this Championship belt relevant again. If that is conceited then I guess I am guilty as charged, but I want it done the right way. I’m not going to cede to the strongarm tactics of men like Michael Harris who want to take it all and give nothing in return.”
Dionysus stops again and thinks for a few seconds before he finishes this part of the conversation with: “I want this to be the start of a legacy that puts the Xtreme Championship belt back at the heart of APW competition, not one that subjugates it to the whims and follies of men like Michael Harris.”
*
I’m proud to call myself the Xtreme Champion here in APW.
I’m not proud because it confers honour and status on me. I won’t lie that such things do have their benefits, but the source of my pride runs deeper than that.
I don’t carry the Championship belt around with me because I think it entitles me to say ‘I’m the best’, or even that ‘I’m better than such and such’. I leave these conceited delusions to men like Terry Marvin who seem to claim the championship’s value results from his holding it. For me this Championship tells me that I have overcome myself; I have battled long and hard over many years just to get to this position, and that I am able to hold a title has prestigious as an APW one makes me proud of the fact I succeeded in overcoming some of my many shortcomings and barriers that have always blocked my way.
I know the Xtreme Championship represents a certain set of ideals and disciplines, and as long as I am the man who holds it I will always do my utmost to adhere to and respect this championship’s unique perimeters. But by doing so does it mean I am the world’s best Xtreme wrestler? The funny thing is, I don’t even consider myself an Xtreme wrestler, let alone the world’s best.
Michael Harris does believe he is the man who should hold that prestigious title.
But here’s the thing: I don’t believe that, nor do I believe Michael Harris really believes that, nor do I believe Michael Harris really cares about that title.
Michael, you’ve made a pretty big deal while you’ve been here of trying to convince everyone you are a big deal. Whether you are or whether you aren’t is not my position to judge, but actions speak louder than words as you so sagely put it to me, and your actions do not fill me with any confidence in your claim.
Don’t get me wrong Michael, I know you are a great competitor. I’ve watched you very closely in recent weeks, I’ve shared the ring with you, I’ve been left reeling in agony by you, so I know exactly what you are capable of. But it takes more to being a big deal than calling out a guy, which you never had the decency or the stones to do with me, or simply exposing his vulnerability to cheap shot after cheap shot.
Here’s the thing Michael: I never figured why you picked me. You’re ‘The Untouchable One’, in your own words you are simply better than me , yet you came after me. You’ve told me that the idea of me being Xtreme Champion makes you feel sick, that I cannot handle the heat you bring, and that the Xtreme Championship belt will look a whole lot better around your waist than it does around mine.
Maybe you’re right Michael, but I just cannot align in my own mind what you say and what you do. I’ve asked myself the same question for the past three weeks: why did you target me if you have so much contempt for me? You claim it’s because you want the Xtreme Championship, but I think the truth is that you thought I was an easy target. You came into APW and you wanted to cover yourself in some glory, but instead of aiming high you aimed low. Easy money, right?
The only problem is that you picked a man who was never going to lie down and let you walk right on into his house. I may not be a C.J. Gates or a Terry Marvin, but I am no man’s bitch. You thought you could bully me and strongarm your way to this title, well I’ll give you some credit, you did rattle my cage a little and you succeeded in getting the better of me on more than one occasion. But when it comes to Rasslemania you’re going to see that claiming the Xtreme title will not be the walkover you always believed it would be.
Our time is coming and when that bell rings I know that when we’ve both given and lost everything in that ring only one thing remains: pride. While you, Michael, fight for your own, I will struggle for the pride of the championship itself, and the principle that I believe drives our sport: that great champions are better men, not just men who want to better themselves.
*
