Post by Chuck Matthews on Jul 16, 2017 11:59:20 GMT -5
Chuck Matthews: “It isn’t all that often I’m at a loss for words. I mean, yeah, I don’t talk a whole lot leading up to matches. Usually, I don’t need to. I have my own way of preparing for things, my own way of training, my own way of competing, and when it comes to the competition itself, I let my work in the ring speak for itself.
But you don’t know that, do you?
See… you folks here in Redemption haven’t seen me in a while, have you? I walked out on my match with Ashleigh Grimes, I took the last event off so I could attend my old company’s exposition, now I’m getting back into the groove and preparing for a match this week against Mr. Aurelio. Now, normally, I think you know how I’ve been playing things. Walk out, talk about how trivial this match is, talk about what a waste of my valuable time it is to fight this dude, talk about how smart I am, you know the drill. And I think people have come to expect that from me since my arrival in Redemption. Throwing a match at WrestleForce, walking out at my last appearance… hell, even my first round here, I autopiloted my way through it and watched Harmony take a pin. And yeah, there are those die-hard fans that know me better than that. There are a fair number of the RW faithful, I’m sure, who recognize that this is the tip of the iceberg. This isn’t the REAL Chuck Matthews, this is some sort of public image, this is Chuck’s masterful manipulation of perception, this is Chuck making you look at his right hand while he works with his left, and soon, you’ll see exactly what he’s been planning.
But most of you don’t know that.
It’s a bit of a souring realization, really, when you acknowledge that the things you used to do don’t quite carry weight anymore. Sure, I’m still a successful competitor. I don’t think anyone-….. well, I don’t think any reasonably intelligent person will contest that. Any company I walk into, I’ll emerge as a champion. Shit, the last couple go-arounds, it barely took a month before they were throwing their champions at me, hoping they could figure out a way to beat me. So much for that.
But even that isn’t really… it’s not good enough. It’s not my standard. I used to be right up there with the best competitors in the world. And that’s the problem. I’ve never really believed in this nonsense, that there is some single ‘best wrestler’ that is the one greatest person on the planet right here and now. That’s the thing about this sport: There’s all these different styles, all these different disciplines. People have strengths. Weaknesses. Different methods of reaching an end result. Shit, I can tell you right now, I have a tough time beating those speedy, acrobatic types.
No… when I came into this business, I didn’t set out to be “the best.” I didn’t think such a thing existed. I still don’t. No, I had a particular set of talents, I recognized those talents, and I set out to be the very best at THAT particular style. I got into this business to be the smartest man in wrestling.
And I succeeded.
Holy Lord Jesus, I succeeded. Seven years ago, I was winning world championship after world championship, I was winning big matches, brutal matches, where millions of people watched, where millions of people knew my name. I was all over the world, I was on the talk shows. I remember that feeling of disbelief and awe, walking through Times Square in 2010 and seeing my face lighting up the city. I had MADE it. I DID it. No, I didn’t ever think I would be the best wrestler in the world, but I had gotten into the business to be the smartest, and in doing so, my name was right up there with the top stars this industry had to offer.
And somewhere down the line, I lost that. I didn’t get hurt. I didn’t have some drug-fueled racist tirade that destroyed my career. Shit, truthfully, I really didn’t compete at a lesser level. No… my attitude changed. I was a man who had lived my dream at a young age.
That’s the problem.
We all have our aspirations, our dreams. We spend our entire lives reaching for it, hoping to attain it, and for most of us, it’s a lifelong commitment. It’s the carrot at the end of the stick, egging us on, encouraging us to take one more step, wake up for one more day. It makes us better. It gives us a goal, something to strive for, something to work for. But what happens when we reach it? We spend all this time chasing a star but we never really know what we would do if we ever caught one.
Let me tell you: Everything else feels meaningless. Nothing you do ever seems to measure of to what you’ve done. Life happens to you, and you just coast through it. You just sort of….. exist.
Maybe that’s why I came to Redemption. Maybe that’s why I’ve been half-assing my matches for the last few years. I could be doing anything with my time. I could be working on the latest innovations and technology. I could be curing diseases. Making world-changing discoveries. A couple weeks ago, I attended my old company’s exposition, and I was shown the possibility of going into politics. Would you believe, before I was competing, I almost became a priest?
There is nothing in this world that I could not do. There is no career path unattainable. There is no dream I could chase that I wouldn’t eventually attain. And yet…. I choose to remain here. Why? Why do I continue to compete, knowing there’s nothing more for me here? I’ve conquered this mountain. My flags dot the summit, and yet, here I stand, and I just can’t leave it alone.
There must be a reason.
My time away, at the expo, showed me some things. Reminded me of some things. It brought some harsh realities to light that maybe I’ve ignored for too long. Maybe it’s time to move on from these things that have held me back…. Made me this empty shell, this half-assed, watered-down Chuck Matthews, and not the Smartest Man in Wrestling that dominated this business, outsmarted any man or woman put in front of him, and became the gold standard in this business.
I wonder if I can climb that mountain once more. Reclaim my spot, set up my camp, and this time, don’t come back down.
I think I’ve found myself a new challenge.
Alright, Redemption. Let’s see what you can do.”
But you don’t know that, do you?
See… you folks here in Redemption haven’t seen me in a while, have you? I walked out on my match with Ashleigh Grimes, I took the last event off so I could attend my old company’s exposition, now I’m getting back into the groove and preparing for a match this week against Mr. Aurelio. Now, normally, I think you know how I’ve been playing things. Walk out, talk about how trivial this match is, talk about what a waste of my valuable time it is to fight this dude, talk about how smart I am, you know the drill. And I think people have come to expect that from me since my arrival in Redemption. Throwing a match at WrestleForce, walking out at my last appearance… hell, even my first round here, I autopiloted my way through it and watched Harmony take a pin. And yeah, there are those die-hard fans that know me better than that. There are a fair number of the RW faithful, I’m sure, who recognize that this is the tip of the iceberg. This isn’t the REAL Chuck Matthews, this is some sort of public image, this is Chuck’s masterful manipulation of perception, this is Chuck making you look at his right hand while he works with his left, and soon, you’ll see exactly what he’s been planning.
But most of you don’t know that.
It’s a bit of a souring realization, really, when you acknowledge that the things you used to do don’t quite carry weight anymore. Sure, I’m still a successful competitor. I don’t think anyone-….. well, I don’t think any reasonably intelligent person will contest that. Any company I walk into, I’ll emerge as a champion. Shit, the last couple go-arounds, it barely took a month before they were throwing their champions at me, hoping they could figure out a way to beat me. So much for that.
But even that isn’t really… it’s not good enough. It’s not my standard. I used to be right up there with the best competitors in the world. And that’s the problem. I’ve never really believed in this nonsense, that there is some single ‘best wrestler’ that is the one greatest person on the planet right here and now. That’s the thing about this sport: There’s all these different styles, all these different disciplines. People have strengths. Weaknesses. Different methods of reaching an end result. Shit, I can tell you right now, I have a tough time beating those speedy, acrobatic types.
No… when I came into this business, I didn’t set out to be “the best.” I didn’t think such a thing existed. I still don’t. No, I had a particular set of talents, I recognized those talents, and I set out to be the very best at THAT particular style. I got into this business to be the smartest man in wrestling.
And I succeeded.
Holy Lord Jesus, I succeeded. Seven years ago, I was winning world championship after world championship, I was winning big matches, brutal matches, where millions of people watched, where millions of people knew my name. I was all over the world, I was on the talk shows. I remember that feeling of disbelief and awe, walking through Times Square in 2010 and seeing my face lighting up the city. I had MADE it. I DID it. No, I didn’t ever think I would be the best wrestler in the world, but I had gotten into the business to be the smartest, and in doing so, my name was right up there with the top stars this industry had to offer.
And somewhere down the line, I lost that. I didn’t get hurt. I didn’t have some drug-fueled racist tirade that destroyed my career. Shit, truthfully, I really didn’t compete at a lesser level. No… my attitude changed. I was a man who had lived my dream at a young age.
That’s the problem.
We all have our aspirations, our dreams. We spend our entire lives reaching for it, hoping to attain it, and for most of us, it’s a lifelong commitment. It’s the carrot at the end of the stick, egging us on, encouraging us to take one more step, wake up for one more day. It makes us better. It gives us a goal, something to strive for, something to work for. But what happens when we reach it? We spend all this time chasing a star but we never really know what we would do if we ever caught one.
Let me tell you: Everything else feels meaningless. Nothing you do ever seems to measure of to what you’ve done. Life happens to you, and you just coast through it. You just sort of….. exist.
Maybe that’s why I came to Redemption. Maybe that’s why I’ve been half-assing my matches for the last few years. I could be doing anything with my time. I could be working on the latest innovations and technology. I could be curing diseases. Making world-changing discoveries. A couple weeks ago, I attended my old company’s exposition, and I was shown the possibility of going into politics. Would you believe, before I was competing, I almost became a priest?
There is nothing in this world that I could not do. There is no career path unattainable. There is no dream I could chase that I wouldn’t eventually attain. And yet…. I choose to remain here. Why? Why do I continue to compete, knowing there’s nothing more for me here? I’ve conquered this mountain. My flags dot the summit, and yet, here I stand, and I just can’t leave it alone.
There must be a reason.
My time away, at the expo, showed me some things. Reminded me of some things. It brought some harsh realities to light that maybe I’ve ignored for too long. Maybe it’s time to move on from these things that have held me back…. Made me this empty shell, this half-assed, watered-down Chuck Matthews, and not the Smartest Man in Wrestling that dominated this business, outsmarted any man or woman put in front of him, and became the gold standard in this business.
I wonder if I can climb that mountain once more. Reclaim my spot, set up my camp, and this time, don’t come back down.
I think I’ve found myself a new challenge.
Alright, Redemption. Let’s see what you can do.”
