Post by F. Styles on Oct 22, 2016 14:24:28 GMT -5
Buckhead. East Atlanta. Where the movers and shakers of the A reside. Rappers, ball players, CEO's, chairmen and women of boards....they all have the a home here. Some more than one. You see those chicks from Love & Hip Hop: Atlanta out here. This is where they roam. This is NOT where you would find a professional wrestler.
Now...if you move towards the center of the city...the incubator, so to speak...you would find a pro wrestler there. You'd find one that just finished a world tour with the biggest wrestling show in the world. One that pays the best, gets the best ratings, and unlike other global programs, actually remembers the actual sport of wrestling. You would find this gentleman getting a few pickup games in at Georgia State, looking like he should be at the D-League showcase in Vegas instead of putting his body on the line each week in tights and boots, but while he likes basketball...he was born to wrestle.
You would find him running the streets that he grew up on, getting that cardio in. Don't always need that fancy workout equipment to make a body strong. Sometimes all you need are the streets and a will to succeed. Money too...cause clothes and shoes ain't free. Every now and again he'll go west on I-20 across the state line and visit his mentor for skill refinement, but this kid is his own man, doing it his own way.
He isn't some brat who talks on their random accomplishments in little local companies, then brag like he actually did something great. He doesn't need to claim that "they" have it in for him when he takes a loss, or make bullshit excuses to gain a morsel of respect.
He doesn't pretend to be some God on earth, nor does he think he's the be all end all of this business. At least, not yet.
Most importantly, he doesn't have to portray himself as a myriad of different things. He never had to hide behind some false character to ward off the pain from a dead tormentor and a cracked out whore of a mother. He's seen plenty of lost bros, cousins, friends and enemies in this concrete jungle. Blood bubbling up from the hard concrete, hot bullets piercing flesh...the cold steel in his hand as he pulls the trigger to survive. He is a survivor and a champion. He's Redemption's newest and potentially greatest star.
I see the front page of a well known wrestling magazine and I see that they got it mostly right. The best wrestlers in the business could work the mic better than a comedian, yet be a 10 move or less wrestler between the ropes. Everybody's got their story to tell...but that's all they are...just spoken words on a screen and braggards of having a thousand moves in their arsenal. That's all you are to me Kaylee and Alicia...you're just talk. All you talk about is what you're gonna do. That you're gonna win this, that you're gonna be the next champion...please. Just quit while you're ahead. We both know you're not capable of beating either myself or my "subhuman" partner. There's no name change, no new persona, no breakthrough in training with your man that will make you anything more than what you are.
Not good enough.
You don't have the fire ladies. Maybe once upon a time, when you held that gold in that little fed you started at, you had it, but now you're just a few glowing embers looking for that spark to ignite once more. And at Glory, Silas and I will stomp out whatever spark you were hoping to get from this match.
Freddie Styles is his own man, and unlike you, that's all I need to succeed.
Now...if you move towards the center of the city...the incubator, so to speak...you would find a pro wrestler there. You'd find one that just finished a world tour with the biggest wrestling show in the world. One that pays the best, gets the best ratings, and unlike other global programs, actually remembers the actual sport of wrestling. You would find this gentleman getting a few pickup games in at Georgia State, looking like he should be at the D-League showcase in Vegas instead of putting his body on the line each week in tights and boots, but while he likes basketball...he was born to wrestle.
You would find him running the streets that he grew up on, getting that cardio in. Don't always need that fancy workout equipment to make a body strong. Sometimes all you need are the streets and a will to succeed. Money too...cause clothes and shoes ain't free. Every now and again he'll go west on I-20 across the state line and visit his mentor for skill refinement, but this kid is his own man, doing it his own way.
He isn't some brat who talks on their random accomplishments in little local companies, then brag like he actually did something great. He doesn't need to claim that "they" have it in for him when he takes a loss, or make bullshit excuses to gain a morsel of respect.
He doesn't pretend to be some God on earth, nor does he think he's the be all end all of this business. At least, not yet.
Most importantly, he doesn't have to portray himself as a myriad of different things. He never had to hide behind some false character to ward off the pain from a dead tormentor and a cracked out whore of a mother. He's seen plenty of lost bros, cousins, friends and enemies in this concrete jungle. Blood bubbling up from the hard concrete, hot bullets piercing flesh...the cold steel in his hand as he pulls the trigger to survive. He is a survivor and a champion. He's Redemption's newest and potentially greatest star.
I see the front page of a well known wrestling magazine and I see that they got it mostly right. The best wrestlers in the business could work the mic better than a comedian, yet be a 10 move or less wrestler between the ropes. Everybody's got their story to tell...but that's all they are...just spoken words on a screen and braggards of having a thousand moves in their arsenal. That's all you are to me Kaylee and Alicia...you're just talk. All you talk about is what you're gonna do. That you're gonna win this, that you're gonna be the next champion...please. Just quit while you're ahead. We both know you're not capable of beating either myself or my "subhuman" partner. There's no name change, no new persona, no breakthrough in training with your man that will make you anything more than what you are.
Not good enough.
You don't have the fire ladies. Maybe once upon a time, when you held that gold in that little fed you started at, you had it, but now you're just a few glowing embers looking for that spark to ignite once more. And at Glory, Silas and I will stomp out whatever spark you were hoping to get from this match.
Freddie Styles is his own man, and unlike you, that's all I need to succeed.
