- Messages
- 30
- Points
- 18
Tommy Cash. Oliver Queen.
Have you felt pain? I bet you might have, being in this business and all - but let me tell you one thing. No-one has suffered pain like I have suffered pain.
Not just physical pain. That emotional kind. The kind that leaves scars not on your skin but on your mind and soul. The kind that never heal. I can’t describe with words how much pain they cause me each day…
Each hour…
Each minute…
Each breathing second.
No word in the dictionary can describe what it does for me - so instead this Sunday let me be an artist. Let me paint you a picture. Let the mat be our canvas, my hands be the brushes and my evil mind be my muse.
Rage, rage against the dying of the lig -
Have you felt pain? I bet you might have, being in this business and all - but let me tell you one thing. No-one has suffered pain like I have suffered pain.
Not just physical pain. That emotional kind. The kind that leaves scars not on your skin but on your mind and soul. The kind that never heal. I can’t describe with words how much pain they cause me each day…
Each hour…
Each minute…
Each breathing second.
No word in the dictionary can describe what it does for me - so instead this Sunday let me be an artist. Let me paint you a picture. Let the mat be our canvas, my hands be the brushes and my evil mind be my muse.
Rage, rage against the dying of the lig -
“Jonathan! I told you to leave your little sister alone!”
“mam i never touched her i swear…”
“he tried to pull my braces out mummy!”
“no i didnt!”
“ow he hit me mam he hit me!”
“im hitting you because youre a snitch and snitches get stitches!"
“Jonathan where on earth have you heard that fr- Gareth! For petes sake, I told you to keep an eye on the kids whilst I Skyped Alun!”
“I was only on the toilet for ten minutes!”
“are you talking to uncle alun mum”
“Well, you could have waited till I was finished! We were only having a quick catch up!”
“Not being funny love, that couldn’t have waited.”
“mam i never touched her i swear…”
“he tried to pull my braces out mummy!”
“no i didnt!”
“ow he hit me mam he hit me!”
“im hitting you because youre a snitch and snitches get stitches!"
“Jonathan where on earth have you heard that fr- Gareth! For petes sake, I told you to keep an eye on the kids whilst I Skyped Alun!”
“I was only on the toilet for ten minutes!”
“are you talking to uncle alun mum”
“Well, you could have waited till I was finished! We were only having a quick catch up!”
“Not being funny love, that couldn’t have waited.”
Alun sighed heavily as he drank his now cold cup of tea watching the farce that Shakespeare himself wish he could have written.
“Oh, don’t be so disgusting!”
“mum ask uncle alun if hes had a mcdonalds yet?”
“Oh, Johnny. Maisy. Come with Dad now, it’s time for bed.”
“mum has he had a mcdonalds yet ive heard its massive over there jack in my class said he had a big mac that was bigger than his head when he went to america.”
“Come on. Bed’
“But-”
“mum ask uncle alun if hes had a mcdonalds yet?”
“Oh, Johnny. Maisy. Come with Dad now, it’s time for bed.”
“mum has he had a mcdonalds yet ive heard its massive over there jack in my class said he had a big mac that was bigger than his head when he went to america.”
“Come on. Bed’
“But-”
“Bed. Now.”
The door to the study slammed shut. Small voices of protest against the failing attempts of trying to implement authority in basic parenting could be heard beyond its thin wooden wall. Alun and his sister Gwen turned to each other and both shared a look at each other before they each broke into a light chuckle.
“It’s like I never left.”
“Sorry about that, Alun. Maisy got braces this weekend and now Jonathan is jealous because she’s had all the attention this week but also because now he think’s she’s closer to being a robot than he’ll ever be. Trust me, I love them but some nights in this house I wish I could run off to the other side of the world like you did. Don't want to swap places do you?”
Alun smiled knowingly.
“Well, let’s see how this Sunday goes and I’ll let you know.”
“Oh, sorry Alun you were reading your promo thingy weren't you. Go on, where were you with that?”
“Ah, doesn’t matter. To be honest I think when I was reading it out I could see it needs some work - "
“Yeah, it was a bit shit.”
Alun’s face dropped.
“…well, maybe it needs a bit more work than I thought”.
Gwen’s face dropped.
“Oh, that’s not what you meant by that was it?”
“Nah, not really.”
“Oh.”
There was a pause. The tension could have filled the entire three thousand, three hundred and thirty one miles that spread from Alun’s modest New York studio flat to Gwen’s modest terrace house in Caerphilly.
“Well, I’ve said it now haven’t I?”
“Was it that bad? I mean, yeah I wasn’t thinking it was Catcher in the Rye but I didn’t think it was…well…shit.”
“Alun I had no idea what you were talking about. All a bit doom and gloomy weren’t it?”
“That’s how they all cut promo’s over here, it’s all material like that. All ‘I was born in the darkness and if you consider turning the light switch on I’ll cut your ear off’ and stuff like that. I need to adapt to what’s around me, don’t I?”
“And were you going to use a Dylan Thomas quote at the end then? Don’t tell me you were going to make that your catchphrase or something?”
“No, of course not. Well. Maybe. I don’t know. Okay yeah, yeah I was.”
“What, is that going to be your new character out there? ‘Fear me, I did well in my English exams in High School. I can soliloquy rings around you’?”
Alun sighed, staring back at the notes he had spent the entire morning in a coffee shop slaving over. He at one point had some pride in his work today, but the judgement had now filled him doubt. He was even beginning to question whether the four dollars he had spent on that chai latte he thought was really nice was actually worth the cost value and if anything the steep price had made him to overvalue a mediocre hot drink.
“You’re overthinking this whole debut thing, aren’t you?”
“This is big, Gwen. I need to hit the ground running here. I’m not fighting in that bingo hall in Bristol. These guys ran a show in a sold out stadium in Rome last week. If I don’t stand out here then we might as well swap.”
“Don’t be daft now…”
“Triple threat as well? They haven’t made it easy.”
“You’ve fought in triple threats before, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, but…”
“And you won those triple threats, if I remember correctly?”
“Some of them, yeah.”
“Well there you go, what’s there to be scared about?”
Alun sighed. Underneath his tiny desk he could feel his right foot shuffle nervously. He eyes darted around his keyboard, trying to avoid eye contact.
“I just want to do myself proud, Gwen.”
“You’re not going to change your life in one match, Alun. If you lose to either one of those two are you just going to run back here and work in the chippy with me?”
Alun eyes shot back to the attention of his sister.
“No.”
“Then just be yourself. It was being yourself that got you the damn contract in the first place. Speak for yourself, don’t try to match what those other guys are saying. Speak as Alun Wyn Jones, fight as Alun Wyn Jones and when you win let that announcer scream your name.”
Alun smirked, shaking his head slowly.
“You sure you don’t want to come live over here? Could do with some of those pep talks.”
“You don’t need me in your ear everyday. We’re all proud of you Alun. You got this.”
“ow!”
“let me have them!”
“Jonathan get back upstairs!”
Gwen’s shut her eyes, her hands clenched.
“Go on, that’s a situation that calls for mum if I ever heard one. You got this.”
“Fuck off you cheeky shit.”
The two laughed. Then, with the sound of a beep she was gone.
Alun leant back in his chair and imagined the chaos that must have been going in that house so many miles away from where he was. Without the aid of internet video messaging the distance now felt vast and the loneliness he felt in his small, cramp room he now called home became larger. He needed to distract himself of the growing arms that isolation where threatening to strange himself with - an activity of some sort, a task. He looked back at the notepad. He read over his words. They now seemed unrecognisable from what he saw them as before. Who was this man, he thought.
Tear out the page. Turn into a ball. Throw it away, never to be unfurled.
Grab the pen. Start again.
~~~~~
So - Tommy. Oliver. Let’s be honest here guys. First match in this company and they haven’t made it easy have they? A triple threat - wow.
I don't know how you two are treating this, but for me this match is about making our first time in the spotlight count. A wise man once told me that the worst thing you can do in life is to make a bad first impression. Like red wine on a newly laid white carpet - no matter how many times you scrub it it’ll never truly disappear.
It doesn’t matter how many times you meet someone. It doesn’t matter how kind, courteous, generous or loving to that person you are in time. Heck, you could even worship them in a godlike manner and bow at their feet - if you let yourself down on that first time you met them then that impression will stick with you as long as you know that person - for the rest of your life, till the day you die.
Were you chewing gum with your mouth open? You’ll forever be considered disgusting. Didn’t hold the door open for them to walk through? Then you are rude. Talk about yourself too much? Arrogant. Drop something? Clumsy. Didn’t put on enough deodorant? Smelly. Make a bad joke? Plain unfunny. I could go on, but for the sake of all our anxieties I’ll stop.
After this Sunday, when that bell rings - EAW's first impression for two of us will be as losers.
Doesn’t matter where our paths in this company may lead us in this company. We could all easily become the world champion in a few years or don’t get asked to return the week after. Either way it goes, only one of us can get that head start and begin with that all important victory. The other two will have to wait another week before we can prove ourselves once more. I mean, you could lose valiantly I suppose. That’s the best worst case scenario. Be the unlucky guy who could’ve easily won but couldn’t break the winning pin for whatever reason.
Yeah you didn’t win, but at least your not the bum who actually gets pinned, I feel sorry for which one of you two who that honour is going to fall too.
Sorry. I’ve just realised. Here I am giving all this talk of first impression’s and I haven’t even greeted you both properly. How rude of me, sorry I haven’t had to do one of these promos like this before. You can really just go on tangents in these things can you? No wonder why everyone else seems to bring up their dark family history in these things.
Let’s start with you Tommy Cash - from what I’m told you’re this rich play boy. You drive fancy cars, wear designer suits and your shower has a cash money setting for you to bathe in. For the record, I’m actually really pleased you’re in this match because basically from what I gather you’re someone who if I was back home I would I call a massive Tory. Which is great for me - because I hate Tories. Sorry to confuse you with the British political system in a wrestling promo, but I was brought up in a household where the three rules were to always say please and thank yous, to always eat my greens and that if you ever saw a Tory that you must hit them on sight.
I swear - that smug, privileged smirk you have adorned on your face is all I’m going to need to set me off when that bell goes. I don’t even know if you know what I’m even talking about when I call you that word, but in short I’ve got a right hand whose just raring to make friends with your chin. Like, best friends. They are going to become well connected by the end of this match. Get it? Because I’m going to punch you silly - think of it like I’m Bernie Sanders and I just really hate the fact your rich.
As for you Oliver Queen. You’re…cool man. You seem like a nice guy. I’m sorry, the office didn’t really give me much about who you are sorry man. They said something about you being a ‘hero at night’ - like, are you actually a superhero? I don’t get it. I mean, if you are that’s cool I suppose. I mean, I don’t suppose you have superpowers so do you do a Batman-esque gig? A vigilante? You do know there’s actually a guy here called The Vigilante don’t you? Are you like crime fighting buddies or enemies? I don’t know you could call me Stan Lee because I think I just booked your first PPV match right there.
Jokes aside, you’re a mysterious fellow Queen. I’ve seen a million Tommy Cash’s in my time stumbling out of cocktail bars after two Mojito’s but you - I don’t know whether I met someone like you. You’re the one I’m going to be studying this match. Your heart and determination could overcome the power of two men alone - or I could be completely wrong and misjudged you. You very well could be just be a cosplayer. If you are I hope you got a sick cape for your ring entrance. That would be fun to see...
Now, before I leave you two. Allow me to introduce myself.
My name’s Alun Wyn Jones. I’m twenty seven years old. I’d say I identify more as Welsh than I would British. I voted Jeremy Corbyn in the last election and yes I’am still bitter about it. My favourite band is the post-punk-noise band The Fall. My favourite film is Dead Man’s Shoes directed by Shane Meadows. In my free time I check out local coffee shops and art galleries. I still don't, won't and will never understand American Football.
Also, in the ring, my brain works at the speed of a hundred computers working at once. My kicks will rattle your spin The back of my hand can produce chops that sound like thunder. Connecting with my elbow will be akin to a car crash at the exact point of impact and I punch so hard that it will send you so far back that you will appear in your grandmothers wedding photos.
Basically - after this first match either of you two might become my mortal enemies or, let's dream here, the greatest of allies. However, you will forever know going forward not to
f u c k w i t h m e .
I look forward to meeting you both.
