Post by KASH on Feb 3, 2017 1:58:31 GMT -5
We find Kash back on US soil, the European tour with his other company finally over. How he hated Germany; just something about the place that felt old, heavy. A thickness in the air that just pushes you down. He’s sitting in the living room of his new digs in Miami, his girlfriend, Lacey Vicious, is on the couch beside him.
Kash: Glad Hellsgate’s in Tampa this week. An hour flight back, rest up for a few days then back to Japan…
Lacey: Wait, what?
Kash: Hun, you knew when we got together, I’m all over the place. Literally. Wrestling for two companies, I was going to have to be everywhere. The Japan tour is only another few weeks, then things will be easier.
Kash kisses Lacey on the forehead.
Kash: Listen, I have to head up and check out the new training space, likely cut my promo for them while I’m there.
Lacey: You also have to do one up for your match with Ripley.
Kash: Already done.
Lacey: When did you do that?
Kash: Okay, haven’t filmed it yet, but I can rattle off all the crap I want to say about him in no time. Hell, probably film his while I’m at it. Kill two birds. I love you, I’ll be back later. You should probably work on yours as well.
Kash grabs his gear bag and out the door he goes, leaving Lacey visibly frustrated.
Let’s get the elephant in the room out of the way, shall we? You KNOW Tucker and Chase are going to jump all over it, the loss to Tillman. Truth, fourth wall time, I got a slap on the wrist from the powers that be because I didn’t hype the match. Fact is, Tillman’s a good kid, and he could probably go far, but he isn’t great. He’s honestly not much to write home about, so I chose not to hype him. So, Tillman, you got an issue with that, I got two words and a finger for ya and you’d be best to stay the hell out of my way.
And Devlin, if I was out of line in what I just said, I got two words and a finger for ya too. I ain’t here to please you, I’m here to whoop somebody’s ass and this time ‘round I got two. One calls himself ‘Perfect Chaos’ and the other calls himself ‘The Wrestling God’.
Really, what in the blue monkey hell is with people with such grandiose names? Perfect this, God that. Ya’ll gonna look real damn stupid when I put the boots to ya and pin ya 1-2-3.
RC Tucker, we’ll start with you. Mr. Perfect Chaos. I’m sure it’s a cool little nickname to sell some damn merch, but your name don’t make no sense. Perfect chaos, my ass. You talk about knowing enough and seeing enough to know how to get to the top and stay there, yet by the looks of ya, ya barely got out of college and you’re still greener than baby shit! First of all, Tucker, the best thing you can learn in this business is the gift of gab. Ya gotta talk the people into them seats so they’re invested in you, and you ain’t got it. Let me tell ya about knowing enough and seeing enough. I’ve been in this damn business a long time. I’ve seen some truly great guys and I’ve seen the drizzling shits. Hell, I can name you two guys in this here company to give you the benchmark of what I’m talking about.
Mikhail Reinhardt, probably one of, if not, the best I have seen in this industry in the last 10 years. Couple of months back, he and I stood toe to toe, nose to nose, and tore the roof off the place in one of the most brutal Buried Alive matches ever witnessed. I may have pulled out the win that night, but I knew I got lucky in that match. Listen to that man on the stick. He and I built up that match for months… with just words. By the time the match came around, we had to back those words up, and we did. As for the drizzling shits, well, ya got John Blade. Same promo every week, same match every week. You get nothing new out of John Blade, he’s stale and formulaic.
The point I’m trying to make to ya, Tucker, is that if you want to sell yourself, ya need to learn to talk, and ya ain’t getting it. You’ve got your mindset of “I ain’t gotta say shit because I say everything in the ring’. Fine. What happens a few years down the road when you can’t do them moves anymore? How you gonna sell a match, how you gonna sell an opponent? You’ll be no better than a John Blade. You also gotta have a bit of an attitude if you’re gonna survive this business. You’re cocky but you come across too thin. I ain’t buying it, and if I ain’t buying in, it means ya ain’t selling.
Now, you look at someone like Anton Chase, that guy gets it. He’s been around, he’s got some road grit on him and it shows. Chase can sell. Chase can talk people into seats. Chase even has the attitude. Calling himself a Wrestling God is a bit of a stretch, especially considering he came up short as of late in his quest for gold.
Chase, I’ll give you respect for the career you’ve had up until now, but your star is starting to fade. You’re reaching your expiration date, and you’re too damn stupid not to see it. Your manager sees it, but he ain’t got the heart to tell you, his prodigal son. He still looks at you like a meal ticket and can’t bring himself to admit that your run is over. It happens to all of us at one time or another. Sometimes you get a lucky break you can ride a little longer, but sometimes you get to the point where lacing them boots ain’t worth it anymore.
I’ve been there. This ain’t a pretty face anymore, this body can still go but it’s a little slower, I got limitations to what I can do. I had to walk away from the business for a few years because I truly felt I was done. I was hurting, I was falling apart. Then I found the break I needed and I stepped back in the business, the same business that tried its damndest to kill me and damned near succeeded. You ain’t figured that out yet, and I’m telling ya, man to man, you best figure it out soon before this business comes to collect.
Your manager, Wood, best let you figure it out before the business comes to collect. We don’t need another statistic on our hands.
Thing is, boys, I know I ain’t perfect, and I know I definitely ain’t no god. I’m a simple kinda man, just like that Skynyrd song. I’ve been lucky enough in my career to have achieved almost everything I wanted to. I could hang up my boots for good tomorrow and I’d be happy with the goals I’ve achieved. Thing is, I still love this business of wrassling. Chase talks about nobody having the passion for the sport like he does, and I say you’re full of crap. You can go around the world, learn all the styles; Japanese style, strong style, lucha, submission, all of it. You can grow up dreaming of being in the business and being blessed you lived the dream. However, you want to talk heart, you want to talk passion, none of you have stood where I have.
I’ve lived a gypsy’s life for twenty years; I’ve burnt out more car engines and tires than a race-car driver running up and down the roads all over this continent. I’ve flown billions of miles in my career, criss-crossed the globe hundreds of times and I’m probably underestimating that number. Lived in my car, stolen gas to get to the next show, slept on cardboard boxes, having to wash myself in fast-food bathrooms. I did it all because my heart wouldn’t allow me to do anything else. I had such a passion, such a need to be in that ring. It didn’t matter if it was 12 people, 1200, 12000, I went out there every night, won some, lost most, but I wouldn’t quit. I had to keep going.
I’ve sat in thousand of locker rooms, sometimes you come across the same guys. You can’t help but laugh because they’ll say “damn, I can’t believe I’m still doing this”, and you look at some of them, and you wonder the same thing. They’re nothing but shells. You hear stories about this wrestler killing himself willingly, they had nothing left and they couldn’t get out. You get some whose life has been taken over by drugs and alcohol just so they can function. I’ve lost a few brothers in arms along the way, makes you second-guess yourself. Makes you ask whether you’re next.
After twenty years, two retirements, broken bones, and way more concussions that I could count, I’m still here. Difference between me and them is that I choose to still be here, because I can still go. I can still achieve goals I set for myself, my biggest one right now being the New Gen championship. And it starts with beating the two of you.
I’ve said this a hundred times, and it bears repeating here. I’ve destroyed gods in my time and I’ve buried the devil himself. The loss to Tillman was a formality, never look at that as a sign of weakness. I know I can beat the two of you, and truthfully I already have. Nothing either of you have to offer, both on the stick or in that ring, can match the intensity, the passion, the chaos that exudes from me.
Tucker, Chase… run.
Kash: Glad Hellsgate’s in Tampa this week. An hour flight back, rest up for a few days then back to Japan…
Lacey: Wait, what?
Kash: Hun, you knew when we got together, I’m all over the place. Literally. Wrestling for two companies, I was going to have to be everywhere. The Japan tour is only another few weeks, then things will be easier.
Kash kisses Lacey on the forehead.
Kash: Listen, I have to head up and check out the new training space, likely cut my promo for them while I’m there.
Lacey: You also have to do one up for your match with Ripley.
Kash: Already done.
Lacey: When did you do that?
Kash: Okay, haven’t filmed it yet, but I can rattle off all the crap I want to say about him in no time. Hell, probably film his while I’m at it. Kill two birds. I love you, I’ll be back later. You should probably work on yours as well.
Kash grabs his gear bag and out the door he goes, leaving Lacey visibly frustrated.
Let’s get the elephant in the room out of the way, shall we? You KNOW Tucker and Chase are going to jump all over it, the loss to Tillman. Truth, fourth wall time, I got a slap on the wrist from the powers that be because I didn’t hype the match. Fact is, Tillman’s a good kid, and he could probably go far, but he isn’t great. He’s honestly not much to write home about, so I chose not to hype him. So, Tillman, you got an issue with that, I got two words and a finger for ya and you’d be best to stay the hell out of my way.
And Devlin, if I was out of line in what I just said, I got two words and a finger for ya too. I ain’t here to please you, I’m here to whoop somebody’s ass and this time ‘round I got two. One calls himself ‘Perfect Chaos’ and the other calls himself ‘The Wrestling God’.
Really, what in the blue monkey hell is with people with such grandiose names? Perfect this, God that. Ya’ll gonna look real damn stupid when I put the boots to ya and pin ya 1-2-3.
RC Tucker, we’ll start with you. Mr. Perfect Chaos. I’m sure it’s a cool little nickname to sell some damn merch, but your name don’t make no sense. Perfect chaos, my ass. You talk about knowing enough and seeing enough to know how to get to the top and stay there, yet by the looks of ya, ya barely got out of college and you’re still greener than baby shit! First of all, Tucker, the best thing you can learn in this business is the gift of gab. Ya gotta talk the people into them seats so they’re invested in you, and you ain’t got it. Let me tell ya about knowing enough and seeing enough. I’ve been in this damn business a long time. I’ve seen some truly great guys and I’ve seen the drizzling shits. Hell, I can name you two guys in this here company to give you the benchmark of what I’m talking about.
Mikhail Reinhardt, probably one of, if not, the best I have seen in this industry in the last 10 years. Couple of months back, he and I stood toe to toe, nose to nose, and tore the roof off the place in one of the most brutal Buried Alive matches ever witnessed. I may have pulled out the win that night, but I knew I got lucky in that match. Listen to that man on the stick. He and I built up that match for months… with just words. By the time the match came around, we had to back those words up, and we did. As for the drizzling shits, well, ya got John Blade. Same promo every week, same match every week. You get nothing new out of John Blade, he’s stale and formulaic.
The point I’m trying to make to ya, Tucker, is that if you want to sell yourself, ya need to learn to talk, and ya ain’t getting it. You’ve got your mindset of “I ain’t gotta say shit because I say everything in the ring’. Fine. What happens a few years down the road when you can’t do them moves anymore? How you gonna sell a match, how you gonna sell an opponent? You’ll be no better than a John Blade. You also gotta have a bit of an attitude if you’re gonna survive this business. You’re cocky but you come across too thin. I ain’t buying it, and if I ain’t buying in, it means ya ain’t selling.
Now, you look at someone like Anton Chase, that guy gets it. He’s been around, he’s got some road grit on him and it shows. Chase can sell. Chase can talk people into seats. Chase even has the attitude. Calling himself a Wrestling God is a bit of a stretch, especially considering he came up short as of late in his quest for gold.
Chase, I’ll give you respect for the career you’ve had up until now, but your star is starting to fade. You’re reaching your expiration date, and you’re too damn stupid not to see it. Your manager sees it, but he ain’t got the heart to tell you, his prodigal son. He still looks at you like a meal ticket and can’t bring himself to admit that your run is over. It happens to all of us at one time or another. Sometimes you get a lucky break you can ride a little longer, but sometimes you get to the point where lacing them boots ain’t worth it anymore.
I’ve been there. This ain’t a pretty face anymore, this body can still go but it’s a little slower, I got limitations to what I can do. I had to walk away from the business for a few years because I truly felt I was done. I was hurting, I was falling apart. Then I found the break I needed and I stepped back in the business, the same business that tried its damndest to kill me and damned near succeeded. You ain’t figured that out yet, and I’m telling ya, man to man, you best figure it out soon before this business comes to collect.
Your manager, Wood, best let you figure it out before the business comes to collect. We don’t need another statistic on our hands.
Thing is, boys, I know I ain’t perfect, and I know I definitely ain’t no god. I’m a simple kinda man, just like that Skynyrd song. I’ve been lucky enough in my career to have achieved almost everything I wanted to. I could hang up my boots for good tomorrow and I’d be happy with the goals I’ve achieved. Thing is, I still love this business of wrassling. Chase talks about nobody having the passion for the sport like he does, and I say you’re full of crap. You can go around the world, learn all the styles; Japanese style, strong style, lucha, submission, all of it. You can grow up dreaming of being in the business and being blessed you lived the dream. However, you want to talk heart, you want to talk passion, none of you have stood where I have.
I’ve lived a gypsy’s life for twenty years; I’ve burnt out more car engines and tires than a race-car driver running up and down the roads all over this continent. I’ve flown billions of miles in my career, criss-crossed the globe hundreds of times and I’m probably underestimating that number. Lived in my car, stolen gas to get to the next show, slept on cardboard boxes, having to wash myself in fast-food bathrooms. I did it all because my heart wouldn’t allow me to do anything else. I had such a passion, such a need to be in that ring. It didn’t matter if it was 12 people, 1200, 12000, I went out there every night, won some, lost most, but I wouldn’t quit. I had to keep going.
I’ve sat in thousand of locker rooms, sometimes you come across the same guys. You can’t help but laugh because they’ll say “damn, I can’t believe I’m still doing this”, and you look at some of them, and you wonder the same thing. They’re nothing but shells. You hear stories about this wrestler killing himself willingly, they had nothing left and they couldn’t get out. You get some whose life has been taken over by drugs and alcohol just so they can function. I’ve lost a few brothers in arms along the way, makes you second-guess yourself. Makes you ask whether you’re next.
After twenty years, two retirements, broken bones, and way more concussions that I could count, I’m still here. Difference between me and them is that I choose to still be here, because I can still go. I can still achieve goals I set for myself, my biggest one right now being the New Gen championship. And it starts with beating the two of you.
I’ve said this a hundred times, and it bears repeating here. I’ve destroyed gods in my time and I’ve buried the devil himself. The loss to Tillman was a formality, never look at that as a sign of weakness. I know I can beat the two of you, and truthfully I already have. Nothing either of you have to offer, both on the stick or in that ring, can match the intensity, the passion, the chaos that exudes from me.
Tucker, Chase… run.
