Post by Dean Wolf on Oct 13, 2019 22:58:46 GMT -5
October 13, 2019
John Paul Jones Arena
Charlottesville, Virginia
Dean Wolf is in a backstage production area standing next to a TV that displays the paused visage of Smith Jones. The image is unpaused and we hear Smith say these words.
“I am the apex of APW. Do what you’ve got to do. I understand. I laid a challenge down and you had no choice but to accept. That’s what champions do. I hold the gold that EVERYONE covets. Deep in your viscera, you know that I’m right. This Monday Night Metal, you are set to appear in your very first one on one main event match because of ME. I don’t believe I’ve gotten a thank you from you yet.”
Dean Wolf: Thank you? You want a thank you from me?
He laughs.
Dean Wolf: No, I don’t think I’m going to do that. I don’t think I’m the one that needs to do the thanking, Smitty. I think the only person that needs to be thankful around here is you- to me.
Yeah, you should be doing that instead of running me down, my title down, and the entire hardcore division down.
Now, you’re probably sitting there saying “Why would I ever thank you?” It’s because I’m the guy that got you to stop the motivational speaking tour you were on. And I’m not just making this up out of thin air. You said it live on camera. You gave me credit for getting you out of that motivational speaking kick you were on. And what happened once you did that? You became more focused. You won the Alpha Showdown, which led you on a path to eventually becoming the World Champion; so you at least can thank me for being in the main event of Ascension and Supremacy.
Of course, I don’t really expect you to thank me. I expect you to keep being a prick. I expect you to keep holding your nose up in the air, thinking you’re better than everybody else, thinking that people like me, who fought for my Hardcore Championship, are just bums.
But you know what the funny thing is about bums? When you see one on the street, you judge that person and sum up his life in about two seconds. Most people would. It’s human nature. “He’s lazy. He’s a drunk. He’s an addict. He’s mentally ill. He’s a dreg of society. He should be shipped up and sent away.” And you can think all of that because you’re at a higher status in life than him. Your position gives you the right to look down on that person and cast aspersions.
But what if you ended up in a dark alley one night and were encountered by that same bum? And he wanted something you had and was ready to hurt you real bad for it? What then? At that point, it doesn’t matter who you are. It doesn’t matter what social class you belong to. It doesn’t matter what you and him possess. There’s no more inequality. You’re on equal footing and you better fight or prepare to get seriously injured.
Smitty, right now you see me as the bum because I hold the Hardcore Title and yourself as the first-class guy because you hold the World Title. You think you have the right to sit on your throne and denigrate me. And let me tell you something- you have no way to justify that line of thinking, because I’ve already proven that when you and I square off against each other, I’m better than you. How’s that for inequality?
But it’s fine, because I’m gonna make you look like a bigger fool than you’ve already made yourself look with all your comments about me, the Hardcore Title, and everybody that has fought for it. It ain’t just me and ZMAC you insulted. You also insulted our current North American Champion, Spartan. Is he beneath you because he once held this title? The guy is a freak of nature, a superathlete, and I was honored to fight him for this title. I’m honored that he and I had what I consider to be the match of 2019, the first classic of APW. You want to tell him that he’s just a flake for fighting for the Hardcore Title?
What about all the other people that fought in AC for this title, like Masuda Jubei. You know, the FIRST World Champion, the guy that beat you at Ascension, the guy that I bet would have beaten you again if he hadn’t have died. Was he a flake because he wanted the Hardcore Championship?
What about Bodacious? I hate him almost as much as I hate ZMAC, but was he a flake for pulling out all the stops to earn my title?
No. None of them were. I may not like most of them, but I respect the fact that they wanted to win my title, that they wanted a seat at the table of kings, just like me.
You have no such respect. You have no reverence for the part of this sport that I represent right now, and it’s a damn shame. Hardcore wrestling may involve relaxed rules. It may be more bloody and violent than your traditional wrestling match. It may involve weapons. It may allow falls to be counted anywhere. It may not involve wrist locks and intricate submissions. It may not display technical masterpieces. It may not be your cup of tea.
Whatever it is and whatever it isn’t, hardcore has been a part of this sport, and it’s been a part of this sport since before the death matches in Japan. Before C4 and barbed wire were installed in the ring. Before young 18 to 34-year-old men gathered in dark, danky bingo halls to hand weapons to their favorite wrestlers and chant “HE’S HARDCORE! HE’S HARDCORE!”
No, hardcore has been around professional wrestling since before you and I were even born. Go back and take a look at the photo of the greats. Get on a computer and search up old videos from yesteryear. You’ll see them, the legends, the torchbearers, the guys who wrestled in TV studios, back when wrestling promotions served a regional area instead of the national landscape. Look at what those men did to each other.
Images of wrestlers from back in the day pop up on screen.
Dean Wolf: Look at how they brutalized each other. Blood. Chairs. Blinding powder. Bull ropes.
These were men who knew how to wrestle. These were men that knew holds. These were men that held world championships. These were men who in some cases had been great amateur grapplers.
But yet, when the time came, they were also hardcore. They didn’t look down on the use of weapons to settle their scores or to see who the better man was. No, they knew that it was a style of wrestling that had its place and its purpose. Plus, the fans got a kick out of it, and in a sport where money was the deciding factor in most decisions, they weren’t about to sneeze at a payday just because they were challenged to fight dirty.
They never just said “I’m a technical wrestler. I was a champion in college. I don’t do this garbage.” No. They were versatile. Just like they had to adapt to the different territories they wrestled in, just like they had to adapt to the different opponents they faced, they also had to adapt to the different styles of wrestling they were required to fight because they knew that was the best thing for this business. They knew that it was the best thing for this sport.
Would you be willing to look at those men, those legends, those bedrocks of this sport, in the face and tell that they were circus clowns for getting a little dirty in that ring from time to time? I hope not.
And I hoped that it would be the same with the hardcore wrestlers of today, but you’ve proven yourself too stupid to realize what hardcore wrestling means to this sport. Just like those legends spearheaded technical wrestling and pure grappling, they were also the forebearers of the hardcore style, and because of their influence, hardcore wrestling has enriched this sport. Its enriched the cards that its been placed on. It’s drawn people into the arenas. It’s drawn people to buy wrestling shows on pay-per-view. It’s supported the main event matches. It’s been in the main event. It’s part of the fiber of this sport. Without the growth and the popularity of the hardcore style over the last 25 years, professional wrestling wouldn’t be the great institution that it is today.
He shakes his head.
Dean Wolf: My words are probably falling on deaf ears. You probably aren’t comprehending a word I’m saying. Or maybe you just don’t care. You’re so blinded by the vision of wrestling that you see that you can’t see the forest for the trees. You don’t see the big picture. Wrestling is at its best when there’s variety. Wrestlers are at their best when they’re versatile in more than one style.
You just seem to want everything to be the same, and you seem bent on destroying a part of this sport simply because you don’t like it. You demonize and vilify a part of this sport that the fans enjoy and has a rich history because something inside you says that it weighs this business down.
You’re a fascist. You’re want everything to be uniform. You want everything in professional wrestling to be in your image. Now that you’re the champion, you believe that you’re a god that lords over APW. One week as champion, not even a single title defense, and you’re looking to radically change this sport into something that nobody wants and nobody asked for.
Anybody that doesn’t agree with or buy in to your image needs to be sent away, needs to be banished from the squared circle. You want clones. You want cookie cutter wrestlers. You want a roster full of Smith Joneses. You want everybody to talk like you, walk like you, fight like you, be like you. You’re no better than the corporate wrestling promoter who strips their most popular wrestler of his or her uniqueness just to satisfy their own tastes. That’s you. That’s the type of person you are; and you are the worst thing for this business. You are a cancer. You’re not interested in making this sport better. You’re not interested in promoting all aspects of it. You’re just interested in having professional wrestling be what you want, everyone and everything else be damned.
I worked under somebody who wanted to craft an institution in his own vision. He was my old boss, Bernard Core. He saw things wrong with America and pinpointed the educational system as the reason for its decline. Yeah, America has problems. The educational system has problems. However, he thought he had all the answers. Actually, there was only one answer that he thought would make the difference:
Standardization.
Everything being the same. Everyone being the same. Every kid learning the same way. Every kid thinking the same way. Every teacher teaching the same way. Every school and every state carrying out the same policies. No creativity. No room for other ideas. No innovations. Just his way and only his way.
He created a school, The Core Institute, to be the laboratory of his methods. He hired me to be his muscle, to make sure that the sameness that he wanted was carried out every day in the halls of his institution. The young men that entered that school came in as vibrant, enthusiastic kids. After a week there, they weren’t happy anymore. They weren’t imaginative anymore. They were robots. They were parrots. They were institutionalized. They were fearful of going against the system. They were miserable. A whole generation of kids brainwashed and controlled by a man who thought he was doing right by them and America.
Bernard Core used wrestling to help spread his theories and to promote his school, and he was as strict about wrestling as he was about education. Like you, Smitty, he decried hardcore wrestling. He decried wrestlers that were unconventional. He was a NCAA D-III Heavyweight Champion when he wrestled in college, and he just couldn’t believe that there was any way but his way when it came to this sport.
He had some success in the ring. His first few weeks in WCF, he went undefeated. Nobody could touch him. Then, he went up against his first big challenge: Mikey eXtreme, one of the best hardcore wrestlers there’s ever been. One of the best WRESTLERS there’s ever been. A one time WCF World Champion, I might add; but when Core went up against him, he was the United States Champion. Headmaster Core got a shot at the U.S. Title, but he treated Mikey eXtreme like a joke because he looked dirty and liked to carry around a Singapore cane. The first time they stepped into the ring, Core couldn’t beat him. They went to a draw. The second time they went at it, it was a weapons match, and Core couldn’t get the job done. In fact, Mikey won with a submission. Bernard Core, who was a great technical wrestler, didn’t put the time into adapting to Mikey eXtreme’s style. He thought it was beneath him. It wasn’t a part of what he thought wrestling could be, and he got embarrassed, especially because he lost to a submission move.
Biff Mustache comes to mind when I think of Bernard Core, too. I know a lot of people aren’t fans of Biff Mustache or his hypersexual family, but Biff could fight. Biff could wrestle. Most people just didn’t see it because they were preoccupied by Biff’s predilections for dick jokes, and that included Headmaster Core. He thought Biff was an abomination to wrestling, that he was just some sideshow act that crawled out of a brothel and could never be taken seriously. When Core went up against Biff in the Sixth Dimension Tournament that aired on the WCF Network, Core thought it was just going to be a night off. He thought that Biff’s sophomoric nature meant an automatic victory. You know what ended up happening? That son of a bitch Biff Mustache caught the Headmaster in a small package and got the three count.
The point of me relating all of this to you is that everything in life is better when there’s variety, and that includes wrestling. People who force others to live only by one standard don’t typically survive very long. People tend to get fed up with dictators and rigid totalitarians. Men with tunnel vision don’t see the challenges that come up in their periphery, and that causes their downfall.
I didn’t expect to be the Hardcore Champion when I first entered APW. I had my eyes on the Junior Heavyweight Title, just like you did. That slipped through my hands. I had my eyes further down the road on the World Championship, but nobody was offering me the shot at that title. Then the call went out for challengers for the Hardcore Championship and I took it, and I adapted, and I won. If I had been like you and looked down on the opportunity, I wouldn’t be in the position I’m in now, and maybe you don’t envy where I’m at because you hold the World strap, but that doesn’t bother me. I’m creating a legacy with this title. I’m doing what I’m doing better than anybody else is doing it right now, and I’m having fun doing it. It’s making me more versatile. Most importantly, it’s making me appreciate a rich aspect of this sport that you’ve misguidedly stopped caring about.
And like I told you last week, my eyes are still on that World Championship, and if I beat you tomorrow on Metal, in the kind of match that you demand, I’ll have my claim to fight for it.
But even if I don’t beat you, my Hardcore Title will still be here.
Hardcore wrestling will still be here.
The hardcore division will still be here.
And most importantly...
I’ll still be here.
The camera stays on Wolf's serious face as the promo fades to black.
:Knock knock:
In a modest house in Centereach, NY, a typical suburban scene takes place. Kids running around, screaming like little banshees. Dog barking. Piles of mail stacked up, being knocked over by said wild kids and dog.
:Knock knock:
The children, Clifford, Richard, and Stella, are playing a game of hide and seek that would best be played outside.
:Knock knock:
Clifford is the closest to the door when he hears the impatient knocking of the caller on the other side.
Clifford: I’ll get it!
He opens the door and looks through the screen at a strange adult.
Chris Swenson: Hey there, buddy. Is your dad home?
The little boy, like most young kids, doesn't know what to say and just stares like a dunce.
Chris Swenson: Um, hello? I said, is your dad home?
The little boy’s dad yells to him as he approaches the door.
Joe Fager: Clifford!
He makes it to the door and doesn’t even acknowledge the visitor. He berates his son instead.
Joe Fager: What did I tell you about answering the door for strangers?!
Chris Swenson: Hey, Joe.
Joe looks up at the uninvited guest and makes a face like he’s seen a ghost.
Joe Fager: Chris?
Chris Swenson: Yep. It's me.
Joe Fager: What the hell are you doing here?
Chris Swenson: Good way to greet an old friend. It's been a long time. Got time to talk?
