View Full Version : ST. LOUIS 2ND: Beast vs. Joe Average

11-21-05, 02:03 AM
The Alpha Male vs. the former fast food employee

Beast Beat

Joe Average Beat
Ken Cloverleaf

The Guy
11-21-05, 01:49 PM

The noise splattered against the gray concrete in the alley behind some old building.


There, with just the soft hum of a sixty-watt bulb, he stood bent over alone. He felt like his insiders were being ripped from his body through his mouth. Everything hurt, even making sounds., hell even thinking hurt him at this point.

“I-I can’t-argh! I can’t do this!”

A mixture of blood and vomit came from his mouth like a running river. He tried to stop, as it left like his ribs were being crushed by a Boa, but he could not stop. Again and again he hurled on the concrete, unable to even stand up straight. Finally it stopped and fatigue started to rear it’s ugly head. Dropping down, he sat crouching against the cool brick building and enjoyed the cold sensation over his sore body.

“How did I think I could do this?” Joseph asked himself, laying one hand over his face and covering his eyes.

The man known as Joe Average had just won his first singles match against a man no one said he could beat. The critics doubted him, his opponent laughed at him, and Vegas made him the underdog. But he won. However, at this moment, he felt like anything but a winner. Most would be ecstatic after winning their first real match, but Joe could barely move a muscle. The match, no it was no match; it was a beating, took such a toll on his body that after the match he never even made it out of the parking lot before he fell over and started puking his brains out. The show had actually ended a little over an hour ago but Joe had still not found the strength to lift himself up and make it to his car.

“You look like dog ****. Did you know that? Pathetic.”

At first Joe had figured it would be his ex-wife. After all, after the divorce he had yet to find a bigger ***** than her. But the voice was male and clearly not that of his ‘darling’ ex. Joe had to use what strength he had left to look up at the person degrading him. To his surprise it was the man from the gym, the professional wrestler.

“Here give me your hand and get your ass off the ground. You look like a damn hobo,” Chris ordered, extending his arm out for Joe.

Grabbing his arm, Joe was surprised by how easy it was for Storm to lift him off the ground. It barely looked like he tried. That is what years of wrestling training did. Joe just knew it. Though deep down he wondered if he would ever be able to reach that level, or if he was just going to end each match by puking his brains out in the parking lot.

Chris threw one of Joe’s arms over his shoulder and helped carry his weight. “Let’s get you something to eat, you look like crap.”

Joe could only mutter a half laugh. He felt like getting some sleep rather than eating as he still did not think he could hold anything down. Still, he allowed Storm to drag him along toward the parked car. After all, Joe was not worried about his own car. He knew he would have to return to this building one more time, this time to face the man called Beast.

“You can open your own damn door, I’m not some butler for you,” said Chris, who released Joe and got into the car on the driver’s side.

Joe opened his door and flopped down into the passenger side. Closing his eyes he hardly even minded when Chris turned on the radio to ESEN AM Radio. The remaining results wooed Joe to sleep as the voices of Tom Holzerman and Steve Murray broadcasted over the radio.

Slowly the car started to come to a stop. Joe lazily opened his eyes to see the bright signs of heaven; a Denny’s. “Now don’t think I’m doing all this crap because I plan to train you or some ****.” A smirk spread over Chris’ face, “I just owe you for shutting up Ken Cloverleaf after talking all that crap.”

The two pulled themselves from the car and entered the Denny’s. Taking a seat in a booth toward the back (as Joe usually preferred to sit in the back), the looked over their menus.

“You know though, I am surprised you made it to round two. I must admit I lost fifty cool ones on you there. But Cloverleaf was all talk and no bite.” Chris gave a laugh at his own joke, unaware that Joe gave barely a smile. He was too busy trying direct his focus on the menu and away from the aches and sores that infested his body.

When the waitress arrived the two ordered their food and handed off their menus. Chris looked across the table to Joe and gave a smile, “and so tell me, just how do you plan to beat Beast? He for one, sees like he will be more of a challenge than Ken ever was.”

Joe frowned over his toast and eggs. He was just grateful he had survived the first round. Spreading a bit of egg over his toast, he took a large bite. “I don’t know, maybe try the same thing?”

“Meaning you get your ass handed to you until you catch a lucky break? I doubt Beast will be stupid enough to be as arrogant as Cloverleaf was.”

Though it was truth, that did not stop it from being any harder to take. “…” Joe had been fresh out of ideas.

Chris knew the look. The empty eyes of a green wrestler who knew his back was against the wall. “I said I wouldn’t train you unless you won and I stick by my word. However, I have a few tapes on Beast. It is a few CWF tapes, some A1E stuff, and EPW. Watch that and you’ll have an idea of what to expect. It may help you reverse some of his moves.”

Joe stared on with amazement. He had never thought of that. Though the idea of watching hour after hour of footage bored Joe, it was a far greater idea than taking some beating at the hands of the six-six and two hundred-ninety pound Beast.

“The tapes are in my car, I’ll give them to you when I drop you back off at the Savvis Center.” Chris held his hand up for the check then turned back to Joe, giving him another sly grin. “Oh and Joseph, I would watch out for that Absolution. It looked to be a rather nasty move.”

The two paid for their food and got back into Chris’ car where Joe was given the tapes.

“I would suggest watching the tapes at the arena then seeing if one of the TEAM officials can get you access to the gym so you can work on what you saw. I’m sure they will be able to hook you up on a TV and VCR.” Joe nodded in agreement as he tried to shuffle around the countless tapes he held in his hands.

“Uh thanks” he said, having completely forgotten about the aches and pains covering his body (Denny’s can do that to you).

And with an idea of how he may combat the man called Beast, Joe turned away from Storm and entered the Savvis Center in search of a place to watch the tapes. Luckily his road agent Clarence Days was there to greet him. The conversation mostly consisted of Days telling Joe how he got lucky and how the match reminded him of when he was a wrestler. Somehow all the matches reminded Clarence of when he was a wrestler. It wasn’t until Joe insisted that he had to watch the tapes that Days finally left him alone. But would film study and a little over a week in the gym be enough for Joe to overcome the odds for a second time? Time will tell.

11-23-05, 02:37 AM
Inside an Athens hotel room, Beast is propped up in bed, a book in his lap. A real thick book. "The Hobbit" - deluxe edition, fresh off of Amazon.ca. Beast flips a couple pages, and then closes the book in semi-frustration, and puts it down on the stand beside the bed.

Beast: Damn, I don't know how anyone can read the way he writes. I'll stick to the movies.

Let's talk about something else, shall we?

Mr. Average. Joe Average.

The name in itself is a story. Just your everyday run-of-the-mill-local-yokel-small-town-boy-makes-it-big fairy tale Well, as they say in the movies, you're not in Kansas anymore, Toto.

Mr. Average, you're going to find out this week that there's a huge difference between myself and Mr. Cloverleaf. The main difference being that Mr. Cloverleaf is a self-absorbed ego-maniac and doesn't know his own limitations. The man makes rookie mistakes, and then doesn't know how to get out of it. There won't be any opportunities for the school boy roll up.

However, let's be honest. We all make mistakes. Being the rookie you are, you have made them, and will make them. I have made them and will make more.

But the difference is what you do once you make those mistakes.

Mr. Cloverleaf gets himself pinned.

On the other hand, I made a hobby of overcoming mistakes and held on to the EPW World Heavyweight Championship for 10 months because of it.

You can barely walk now, Mr. Average... what happens when you step into the ring with a beast?

Please don't take this as overconfidence - I take each and every opponent as seriously as a title match - but if you barely survived an encounter with Cloverleaf, you're in for a long hospital stay once you've faced me. Your wrestler friend did have some sage advice -study. Watch all the footage. Look up the records. Get some time in the gym. Watch all the footage again, and make sure you've found every little chink in my armor.

I guarantee you there are precious few.

And then, when you're done all that, I invite you to watch the match - nay, street fight - between myself and Dan Ryan this past week. Study every weapon... watch every blow... take in all the damage that was done to the human body in that fight.

Then ask yourself... "How the hell did he get back up?"

Or more importantly... "What the hell do I have to do to KEEP him down if none of that worked?"

If you can find the answer to that, Mr. Average, you will have found Utopia.

Problem is, you have to figure all that out while you're getting tossed around the ring like a rag doll.

The story is over, Mr. Average. The final chapter is here. The fairytale ride through TEAM will be over when you face me in the ring. I'll move on in the tourament, and at least you can go back to your average life and tell all your friends that at least you got beat by the best.

Beast reaches over and shuts the light off, and the view is plunged into darkness.

The Guy
11-23-05, 11:46 AM
He sat in his hotel room looking over the coffee table. There seemed to be countless bills shattered over the table. Slowly, Joe’s head started to drop down, the result of hours of film study. He tried to keep himself awake (the mass amount of Dunkin Donut cups were evidence of that) but he could only do so much and before he could stop himself, Joseph Franklin fell face first onto the coffee table and went to sleep on his mail.


Several hours later Joe was waken by the phone ringing. Rubbing his face, he pulled his head off the table and turned to answer the phone. “Joe! Joe! It’s Clarence. Are you awake?”

“Well I am now,” Joe said, holding back a yawn. “Something you need?”

“Yeah, your scrawny ass at the arena in thirty minutes! I secured you some ring time to work on the stuff from film study.”

Joe wanted to just hang up the phone and go back to sleep. “But Clarence, I was just at the arena a few hours ago watching the tapes. I’m spent! I need some sleep man. I’ve been going for the past twenty hours straight.” It was true too; Joe had been so nervous that he hadn’t been able to sleep. Combine that with the exhaustion from wrestling and the hours of film study, Joe was ready for a pillow and sheets.

“Hey look Joe;” Clarence said soothingly, “it was hard getting the ring free. There are fifteen other superstars that want to win this thing, and each of them has locked up time in the ring. This is the only chance I had.” There was a moment of pause for the information to sink in. “So get a taxi or cab and meet me at the gym entrance in thirty.”

Then Days hung up. He never even bothered to see if Joe would argue the point. Giving a heavy sigh, Joe knew it was useless. If he ever wanted to become a famous professional wrestler he was going to have to make sacrifices like this. He knew life as a wrestler would not be an easy one.

“How much has Beast given up to be here? How much blood and sweat has he given to make the second round?” Joe thought to himself as he lifted himself from the couch. He hoped everyone was this green when they started wrestling, though he knew some of them had undoubtedly come from famous wrestling families or such. Joe did not have that luxury. At the age of thirty-four, Joe was trying to enter a world he barely knew existed.

Entering the bathroom of his hotel room, Joe turned on the faucet, and splashed cold water against his face in an attempt to wake himself up. As he looked up from the water, he saw his reflection in the mirror. The sight disgusted him. His right eye was swollen and bruised, his cheek had a small cut on it, and his face looked like he had lost a fight with a jackhammer. It was not the usually well-groomed Joseph Franklin he was use to by any means.

Joe had to push aside his troubles and went down to the lobby to call for the cab that would bring him to the Savvis Center. If luck would be with him later, his next trip would be to his current residence, New York City and on to Madison Square Garden.

After a short wait for the cab and a couple more to get to the arena (which was not far from the hotel as was), Joe stepped out to see Clarence Day waiting for him. Days had a large greasy smile on his face, a sign Joe had learned meant that whatever news Days had, it would be bad for Joe.

“Great news, kid!,” Days shouted as he greeted him. Joe finally noticed that Clarence had been holding something in his hand. “I’ve got Beast’s latest comments about the match. Epicenter express mailed me the tape.”

Giving a sigh, Joe knew it would be worthless to argue. Truth be told, Joe hadn’t been worried about what Beast had to say. He pretty much figured it would be similar to all the trash Cloverleaf had talked. How Joe was a loser, how he had no experience, how it was a fluke he was even in the tournament, how he was going to be beating, blah blah blah. It made Joe wonder if all the steroid and drug usage he heard about in wrestling made them feel the need to explain how they would rip their opponents limb from limb.

Regardless Days had Joe watch the tape before he would allow him in the ring. Though Joe was dead on for the most part, seeing the tape still made him increasing nervous. He knew Beast would talk about hurting him but actually seeing the physical presence of Beast still made him worry about his personal safety. Granted Ken Cloverleaf was larger than Joe, but Beast was far larger than even Cloverleaf. With two-hundred and ninety pounds of muscle on him, there were many ways Beast was able to hurt Joe.

At that point Joe felt like just packing it up and going home. If he barely got by Ken, what chance did he have against a monster of a man like Beast? He turned away to leave but the tape ended and Days clamped a hand down on Joe’s shoulder.

“And who’s ready from some serious training from a former TAG TEAM CHAMPION OF THE WORRRLLLDDD!” Days yelled, loud enough so that anyone ever remotely in the area was able to hear him. He puffed out his chest and held a large grin on his face, as if he had just won the belts again. “Now lets get you in that ring so we can show Beast just who he is messing with!”

Joe sighed, knowing there was no way to get out of it. He allowed Clarence to lead the way toward the ring, following a step behind. When Joe saw that bright smile on Days’ face he realized that he wasn’t just wrestling for himself in this tournament. He was representing every underdog that ever was a sure lost. To people like Days, who would never see the lights of glory again, Joe was their second chance. Maybe, just maybe, they could have just a bit of his success if he won. Because he was, after all, just like the rest of them. He worked at a crappy job, had a horrible boss, and was forced to save every last penny in hopes of making ends reach.

Yeah, just like everyone else. He really was the average Joe. That’s why they call him Joe Average. And that is why he would not, and could not let Beast trample all over him. He had to go out there and give it his all. He had to put Beast to his limits, and to Beast’s limits. If not than he feared he would be letting down every blue collar guy that had to work the nine to five. And Joe refused to do that.

“Beast, get ready, because I’m coming for your ass.”

11-25-05, 03:49 AM
Beast, sitting in the locker room of a local gymnasium, drenched with sweat. He's just finished a monster workout, his breathing still a little hard, body covered in sweat, muscles still rippling from the effort. He pulls his second boot off, and sits back against the wall.

Beast: Joe, you disappoint me. You really do. Here you are, turning the corner and getting ready to step into the ring in the biggest match of your career, and you're already out of gas. Have you ever heard the phrase "work smarter, not harder?" I know you've got a lot to do. You're getting into the ring with probably the biggest guy you've ever faced - I'm just guessing, but I think I can read you pretty well. You're nervous. You don't want to **** up. And you're petrified that after the pounding you're going to take, you're going to come out of this match about three inches thinner than when you came into it.

It's ok, man. I know you've got a lot to do. Tape to watch. Training to do. Reports to read. There's a lot that goes into readying yourself for a match these days.

But it's not a sprint to the finish. It's a marathon. You don't get out there and blow your load right out of the gate and then have nothing left for the big finish.

I'm guessing you probably have that problem with the women, too

But you obviously have no idea what you're getting into. And quite frankly, Joe, you're acting like a big *****. You asked what I've been through to be here? This past week - namely hell and back. But's not just the matches, Joe. It's not the street fights. It's not just the training, it's the personal appearances, it's the traveling, the autograph sessions, the contract signings, the commercials and endorsement work - it never ends.

And if you think you've got it tough just squeaking by Ken Cloverleaf and then preparing to face me, then you're in for an awful long career.

This is your shot, Joe. This is your chance to step into a tournament featuring talent the world over and make your mark. You've got to do everything in your power to make sure you're seen as one of the very BEST, but if you balk at anything - even for a second - you're done. You either charge in and take the bull by the horns, or turn around and walk out the damned door, because this business isn't for you.

Do you know what your little segment told me? You're a *****. You're a whiner. A complainer. A coddled man approaching who doesn't have a clue exactly what it is he's gotten himself into, and now that you've bitten off more than he can chew, you're having second thoughts. You're tired, Joe, and that just made my job in week 2 a hell of a lot easier. I'll just toss you around the ring for half an hour, and then when you're all spent, take the easy pin.

Dammit, Joe! You're a wrestler, not a burger flinger! Step up and take your shot! Don't whine about it! You can sleep when you're dead!

But wait a minute... you're not just doing this for you... you're doing this for your trainer. You're doing this for all the Average Joe's that never stepped up to take their shots. They're all living vicariously through you, is that it? What a freaking disappointment. The hopes and dreams of DOZENS riding on your shoulders, and you're willing to just turn around and walk back out the door to save your hide from the beating that I am about to impose on you.

But no, oh no. You're going to push yourself to the limit. You're going to take me to my limits.

What a crock of ****.

Did you WATCH the tapes, Joe? Did you SEE what Dan Ryan put me through last week? Dan Ryan is one of the best wrestlers to ever walk the face of this earth, and he couldn't keep me down. Dig up some more tapes of A1E. Watch the Hell in the Cell matches I've been in. Watch the martial arts fights, or the octagon match. Watch the match where we had barbed wire ropes and our fists wrapped in glass.

I don't have a limit.

You're green. You're ****ting your pants just THINKING of stepping into the ring with me. What's going to happen when you actually climb through those ropes and stand in my shadow? If you're lucky, you'll faint, and I'll just put my foot on your chest for the 1-2-3.

If you're unlucky, you'll end up eating hospital food through a straw for the next month and a half. I hope you have insurance.

Quite frankly, Joe, there's nothing that's going to stop me from taking this tournament, especially not a burger flipper who doesn't have his head on straight. You're coming for my ass, huh?

Brother, my ass is for output only, and I'm going to **** all over you in that ring.It may be cliched, but I will beat you to within an inch of your life, and at that very moment, you're going to ask yourself whether you truly made the right decision.

I'm not coming for your ass, Joe. I'm coming for your career.


The Guy
11-29-05, 05:40 PM
“That ****ing arrogant prick!”

Now Joe Franklin was not a man to curse. He rarely, if ever, used any curse words. When he did it would be the small time players, your “hell, crap, and damns”. But sitting on the apron of the wrestling ring, Joe watched the tape of Beast’s latest promo.

It disgust Joe. He had thought he had reached the very limits of an ego against Ken Cloverleaf, but Beast was making him seem humble. Beast just oozed his confidence that he was so sure he would win. He brushed off everything Joe had worked for like it was little to nothing. If Joe trained for two hours, Beast trained for three. If Joe gave blood and sweat, Beast went tooth and nail. Hell in a Cell, Hardcore, Ironman, blah, blah, blah. And the man’s sperm cured cancer.

Joe rolled to his side and back into the ring, under the bottom rope. “Get in the ring Days, if Beast wants me to test him, then I’ll put his ass in line behind Cloverleaf!”

He did not have the years of training. He did not have the natural flair or talent. But he had a heart and desire that many had forgotten about.

“A Cinderella Story in the making” they called him. He was the every day man that entered the world of steroids and blood. Lights, fame, fans, and glory awaited him if he was able to prove that he was no fluke against Ken. Joe had no plans of letting any of them down.

Bouncing off the ropes, Joe ducked a Clothesline attempt from Clarence and came off the opposite ropes. He went for a Lou Threz Press but was caught and brought down with a snapping Spinebuster. Joe’s eyes glazed over as he stared up at the lights. Pain shot up the entire length of his spine. A slight burning sensation went through his arms and hands, making them feel numb.

Clarence got up and left out a hand for Joe, “come on now, lets take a break. You’re too upset to focus.”

Joe slapped away his hand, he would not be helped to his feet. He refused to admit defeat. He turned to his stomach and pulled himself to his base. A look of pain washed over his face as he sat up. “No,” Joe told him, “I’m good.”

Kneeling in front of Joe, Days pulled a bent cigarette from his breast pocket and tucked it between his lips. “Boy, I’ve seen road kill that looked better than you do.” Days pulled a lighter from his shoe (kept it there during matches since it was safer than in a back pocket) and lit the cancer stick. “You want to beat Beast, hell I know it, but killing yourself before the match will only make it all the easier for him to pick ya apart.”

Though Joe did not want to admit it, he knew Clarence was right. He was hell bent on trying to prove to Beast that he could be tough too, that he completely ignored the signs his body was sending him, telling him to slow down.

“Look, we’ve gone over the moves for a few hours now,” Days told him while exhaling a cloud of smoke, “we’ll wrap it up by doing another hour of film study and then you can go back to the hotel for some rest.” Knowing it was for the best, Joe nodded and rolled out of the ring.

The film study went as usual. Joe sat in one of the back locker rooms watching an old projector play off the chipped white wall before him. The current match was one of Beast’s newer match. It was the one he kept insisting Joe watch, the match that was suppose to put the fear of God into Mr. Franklin.

“He’s not bad,” came a voice from behind Joe. Though he had not heard it many times before, Joe still recognized the man. Chris Storm walked into the room and took a seat to finish watching the match.

Joe watched the tape, and as he did the color faded away from him. By the end he was white-washed as one could get. His stomach tossed and turned, he felt like he had been lost at sea for hours. A bitter, bile taste filled his mouth. Joe had to admit that, in most likelihood, Beast would beat him. Feeling the cold grips of defeat grapping hold of him, Joe looked to Chris for some offers of savior.

“He might even be better than Ken Cloverleaf, not technically, but all-around.” It was not the words of encouragement Joe had hoped for. “But he is beatable.” Joe’s eyes grew ten-times as wide. “He is no Bret Hart. He is no Mick Foley. He is no Steve Austin. He is solid all-around but that also means he isn’t perfect anywhere. You can beat him. You just have to catch him when he’s off.”

That sounded easier said than done for poor Joe, who still had barely any wrestling knowledge. Joe gave a sigh, watching as Chris stood up and clapped a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Go back to the hotel and get some rest.”

It was the same advice Clarence had given him. Deciding it would be best to listen to the two seasoned vets, Joe grabbed his tattered gym bag and followed Chris out of the arena. As he stepped into the cool and crisp air, Joe stepped back and looked at the Savvis Arena. Soon it would be the last he would see of the place. After that it would be either on to New York City and Madison Square Garden or to home. Only one person was left to decide which path Joe would take, himself.

“I’m not ready to go home yet Beast.”

12-01-05, 12:43 PM
We're taken inside a local gymnasium. Inside, Beast is in the ring training with a local rookie. They've obviously been there for a

while. Both men are sweaty and breathing hard. The rookie manages to nail Beast in the mouth with a couple of jabs, then steps back and obviously telegraphs a big right hand, but Beast sees it coming, and ducks underneath, before spinning around and
damn near taking the head of the rookie off with a real stiff clothesline. The rookie does a 360 in mid-air and crashes to the mat. Beast reaches down and offers the rookie his hand, and hoists him back up to his feet.

Beast: Look, if you show the other guy what you're going to do before you do it, you're going to get caught. You have to sharp and crisp, not loose and slow, you got me?

The rookie answers in the affirmative.

Beast: Excellent. Good. Go get an ice pack for that neck.

The rookie shakes Beast's hand and leaves the ring, but slowly and in a lot of pain. Beast walks over to the ropes before noticing a TEAM camera crew.

TCC: Beast, can we get a few words from you about Joe Average and his latest comments?

Beast: Sure, why not?

Beast leans forward and rests on the top rope, folding his massive arms over the cord.

Beast: You think I'm an arrogant prick, Joe? ****, kid, you haven't seen anything yet. Just wait till I get wound up.

Beast winks into the camera and continues.

Beast: Whoops. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to curse. (pause). Wait a minute. I'm not sorry. Joe, if you can't take the heat, then stay out of the f*cking kitchen. You're in the big leagues now, son, and if you can't talk a little trash with the big boys, then you don't deserve to be here. Hell, if you don't like me, just wait until you meet a guy like Haven, where he'll call you a f(bomb) rabbit every 2.69 seconds.

Such is the territory, Joe. You chose to get into the wrasslin' game, and profesisonal wrestlers are a bunch of hardened, rough bastards. We're a little rough around the edges, so you'll have to forgive us if we don't put on our Sunday's best and talk about tea and crumpets every time we step in front of a camera.

Nope, we'd much rather talk about caving your head in and f*cking your girlfriend in front of your carcass.

Arrogant? Maybe just a little.

Confident? You're damn skippy.


Nah, I don't think so.

I mean, sure Joe... you're the big Cinderella story of the TEAM Tournament. You're the nobody that's written in as the Disney wrestling feel-good moment of the year. The nobody that no one thought could last 10 seconds in the ring with a bunch of seasoned warriors. The little guy that would turn heads by even getting past the first round, and be the ultimate dark horse to win the whole thing.

Sorry, Cinderella. The glass slipper's broken and it's five minutes until midnight.

You may have gotten by Ken Cloverleaf, but really, Joe, what did that accomplish? Beating Ken Cloverleaf is like me taking my morning paper into the bathroom and taking a huge ****.

It just happens.

But now, you're up against a man - nay, a Beast - that has been through wars in the professional wrestling world that would end the careers of normal humans. That rookie that I was training in the ring just a few moments ago? He's got more courage and will to go on in his f*cking pinky toe than you do, Joe. We've been in this ring for the last three hours, and this kid has been getting killed with move after move, and he just kept getting back up and wanting more. THAT'S a kid that's going to go far in this business.

And here you are crumbling under a spinebuster from a washed up hack who's greatest acheivement was letting someone else carry him to tag team gold.

You're hurt, Joe. You're beat up. You may have wanted to get back up, but you just couldn't. There's a difference between wanting something, Joe, and just bearing down and willing your body to do it, no matter how much it complains, creaks, or groans.

That's the mark of a Champion, Joe, and that's something you just don't have.

But your friend Chris was right. I may be confident, but I'm not arrogant enough to call myself invincible. Sure, I can be beaten. I've been beaten before, and I'll be beaten again.

That being said, Joe, let me tell you this...

It takes a special breed of man to do it. The list of people that have been able to pin my shoulders to the mat or make me submit is a very short one. It takes an athlete of tremendous ability, heart, and character to tame the Beast, Joe, and those three characteristics are three things that you... just... don't... have. Hell, junior, you watched me take punishment that you can't even fathom, and you all but puked your guts out in horror.

You know, Joe. You just know. You know that deep down, you don't have it in you to deliver that kind of punishment. You don't have the strength or ability of Dan Ryan to be able to pull off what he did. You're too much of a p*ssy to inflict the kind of damage that was done in that match.

You don't have the killer instinct, and little ballerina, that just means that you don't have enough.

What's killing you the most, is not the spinebuster Mr. Miyagi hit you with. It's not going to be all the devastation I bring to the ring week. What's eating you up inside is that you know in your mind, and in your heart that you don't have what it takes.

But I gotta give you brownie points for showing up, anyway.

You may not be ready to go home yet, Joe, but quite frankly, you don't have a choice. You're not going to Madison Square Garden.

Just consider yourself lucky if it's not the intensive care unit.

See ya, Cinderella.

The camera fades out as Beast gets off the ropes and exits the ring.

The Guy
12-01-05, 06:41 PM
V/O: In the following story, Wrestling Insider takes a look at a Cinderella story in the making. It is the first ever TEAM Invitational Tournament and many of the best signed up to be the first winner of the Chad Merritt Trophy. World Champions, seasoned veterans, and favorites to win all joined. And among them? One man who didn’t fit the bill. He doesn’t have the superstar look or the family background. Yet despite all his disadvantages he still managed to topple the highly favored Ken Cloverleaf and advance to the second round. Now the wrestling world watches to see what he will do next.

Joe: It’s actually kind of surprising for me, really. I’ve never been a part of something like this before. I mean my past job was in retail and I’ve never really had any formal training. But now people I barely know at waiting outside the arena and cheer for me when I go in for my training. My hotel has received countless messages of people wishing me luck. *laughs* I’ve even had a few offers of marriage from some lovely ladies.

V/O: Despite all of it Joe tries to remain humble, unlike many of his fellow wrestlers. While they praise their past accomplishments, Joe is in the ring working toward his future.

Joe: Funny story, Clarence Day, my road agent for the tournament, was showing me some moves and I tried to move where I run to the corner and jump onto the top rope for a Backflip or something. Well I ran into the corner and when I jumped onto the top pad I slipped and came crashing down on my back. Gave myself a good bruise on the back of my head.

V/O: Through his hard work, Joe has made a new friend, one who has acted as a teacher to the young student.

Joe: I don’t know much about Chris Storm, since I never followed wrestling before, but from what I understand is he has his own list of awards and impressive victories. I guess he’s sort of taking me under is wing, though he won’t formally train me. He just gives me lots of advice on my opponents and how to maximizes my training.

V/O: Training which has been especially grueling for Joseph Franklin, otherwise known as Joe Average.

Joe: The biggest disadvantage I feel I have is my lack of conditioning. Needless to say flipping burgers and ticketing diapers is no wrestling training. The only workouts I got before this was when I would take the fifteen minute walks to work. More than a few times Days has had to stop my training so I could be looked over by a doctor. When I first started learning out to hit the ropes properly I accidentally damaged my bladder and I was pissing blood all day. It hurt horribly, much worst than anything I had happen in the ring.

V/O: Joe is determined though, a determination that will not waiver despite how massive his opponent is or how dismay his chances maybe.

Joe: Yeah I’m the ultimate underdog I guess you could say. I hear Vegas had me at like 200-1 or something in my match against Cloverleaf. My understanding is that my odds against Beast haven’t been much better. A fluke is what I am hearing. Hopefully I can prove them all wrong and beat Beast. I can’t go home right now, not having working so hard. I’ve given up everything I knew to try and be a professional wrestler. I lost my wife, my kids, my home, my car, my job, you name it. That is why I can’t stop fighting, why I won’t give up. This is all I have left. I may have failed in the Infinite Gauntlet, but I refuse to fail here.

V/O: But it won’t be an easy task against an opponent as confident as Beast has been. With the knowledge of Joe’s win over Cloverleaf, it is unlikely Beast will make the same mistake.

Joe: That Beast guy has been running his mouth nonstop. From what I understand our match is the talked about bout in Round Two. But all that trash talking he’s been doing has just been backfiring. Every time he tells me how he’ll bring the pain, I work that much harder. With each threat or praise, I give another hour in the gym. He can stomp a mudhole in a rookie all he wants. It won’t worry me. I’ve been doing my homework. Beast can’t possibly learn an entirely new style of wrestling within the time before our match. And besides, he doesn’t seem to understand just how desperate I am. I’ve already fallen. I can’t get any lower. Losing wouldn’t just be some statistic in my career like it would be for Beast, losing would be the end of my career.

V/O: And so he trains. With every fiber in his body, Joe works to improve himself. But will it be enough. Can the Cinderella Man do it again or will he finally meet his final dance? TEAM Wrestling and ESEN present the TEAM Invitational Tournament!

12-03-05, 07:06 PM
A TEAM interview set. A brick wall, a pretty crappy brick wall, actually. There's chunks cracked off and missing. There's graffiti all over it. A TEAM logo is spray painted across the middle of it. Beast stands in front of the interview set.

Beast: The mark of a Champion.

It's not something you develop over time. It's not something that you have "a little bit of", and you develop over time.

You're either born with it, or you don't have it. The Wayne Gretzky's of the world are given a gift. They either recognize it right away and nurture it and become a superstar, like Wayne did, or you languish for years in the junior or minor leagues, before retiring without anyone knowing who you are.

Sure, you might get called up for a game or two, and you might spend a few minutes in the limelight, but everyone around you soon realizes that this life is something you're not quite cut out for, and you get sent packing down to the minors, where your opponents will haunt you for the rest of your career, taunting you for not being able to make it.

You might have given up everything. An education. A proper job. Friends. Family. A life. You might have walked away from everything in order to pursue your dream.

And to have it all come crashing down around you the second you realize that you're just not Championship material. You may have failed multiple times, only to pick yourself back up... and fail again.

That hurts.

You're left in a state of confusion. You don't know where to go, what to do next.

Believe it or not, Joe, I was once like you. Entering the world of professional wrestling, never doing it before. Not having any training. Not knowing what to do. I was a young hockey player with some talent, a guy who everyone thought was going to make the big leagues - and who knows - maybe even win a Stanley Cup.

And I did fairly well. I played well in the juniors. Made it to the minor leagues, and did well enough there. Or at least I thought. After a couple years, I got the call. I was going to go to the Show. I showed up, and lasted all of two practices. I never even got to play in a NHL game. The guys there were bigger. They were faster. They were stronger. And I just couldn't keep up. I was getting killed against the boards, and getting outskated.

I got sent back down to the juniors. But I never reported. I knew I wasn't going to be happy unless I was going to be the best. I just knew that no matter how hard I worked, no matter how hard I trained... that I was never going to be the best. There was always going to be someone bigger, stronger, or faster than I was. I wasn't going to make it.

So I went back to what I was doing. I went back to school, and worked odd jobs, even though I didn't need it. I always had dad's money if I needed it.

But I never stopped working. I never stopped trying to better myself. I hit the weights. I worked out like a madman every moment I could when I wasn't studying or working. I learned all about nutrition, and I learned how to build my body. There wasn't going to be anyone bigger or stronger than me anymore.

And then it happened.

My family was going through a rough time. We'd taken in my cousin, who wasn't getting along with her own parents. But we found out why. She was ruining her life dealing with this horrible human being who we'd felt corrupted her in every way. And she was going to marry him.

I had found my calling. I was going to hunt him down and prevent him from doing any further damage to her, or to my family. Only thing is, I didn't know where to find them. Then, one day, I turned on the television to watch this new wrestling company. A1E. A1 Entertainment.

And there he was. And I knew what I had to do.

I had to become a professional wrestler. I had to get to him.

So I worked. I redoubled my training efforts. I watched video until my eyes bled. I built my own ring and trained myself.

And I was GOOD.

I didn't slip on the top turnbuckles. I didn't run the ropes and hurt my bladder... although that's a pretty impressive acheivement, considering when you hit the ropes, depending on your height, you're hitting your lower back, or upper back and shoulders. I didn't have to take breaks because I was out of shape. I may have looked like a superstar, but I sure as hell didn't have the all-American boy upbrining or family life.

I got to A1E, and destroyed the man I was after. But, a funny thing happened.

I'd found my gift.

And I let it loose.

I started destroying everyone else, too. I honed my skills. I became a monster, an unstoppable force. And that's not being arrogant. Look at the record books. I've won more matches than anyone else in A1E history. I became a multiple title holder. A multiple-time World Champion over different promotions.

I'd succeeded where no one ever thought possible.

And I continue to succeed to this day.

That's because I have the mark of a Champion. I didn't know when to give up. I didn't want to. I didn't know how. This wasn't the junior hockey leagues. This was the big time.

And now here we are in TEAM. The second round of a tournament where competitors from the wrestling world over. The Champions will rise to the top.

And the weaker-thans will fall away.

I am a Champion, Joe. You are a weaker-than. You ARE the ultimate underdog, as you put it. It's David vs. Goliath all over again, except this time, Joe, a slingshot just isn't going to cut it. It's obvious that you don't have the skills to compete with me in the ring. You proved that against Cloverleaf. You're going to need a tank to run me over and put me down.

But you've got the ultimate weapon, though, haven't you? What was it you said? I'm not going to be able to learn an entirely new style of wrestling in one night? Who do you think you are, Nova? Did you invent something that no one's seen before? I highly doubt it, Joe. I've faced dozens of different styles over the last five years in three different promotions, and I've beaten them all, Joe. There's only so much you can do in a ring, Joe. From the standard North American power monsters, brawlers, and master technicians, to the high flying cruiserweights of Mexico and all the lucha libre greatness they bring, to the crazy, psychotic Japanese infatuation with destroying the human body.

I've seen and done it all, Joe. Unless you can levitate and throw me around the ring with telekinesis, there's not a hell of a lot you can bring to the table that I haven't seen or been successful against.

And you want to talk desperation? You think that because you're desperate to make a name for yourself, that that's going to be ENOUGH to get by me? That losing this match is just going to be a statistic? A footnote in my career? Then you REALLY don't understand what you're getting yourself into. If you think that I've got nothing to lose in this match, then you're as stupid as I thought you were for getting into this business. I am one of the favored competitors to win this entire tournament, Joe. I have a level that I hold myself to. What do you think that my opponents in A1E, and EPW are going to think if I come out of this match with a loss to a greenhorn like you? I am the number one contender to two different World Heavyweight Championships at this time, and a loss to you would destroy all the hard work I have put into getting those shots. A loss to you would make a wrestler of my caliber the laughing stock of professional wrestling.

A loss to you would kill my career, Joe, so don't even THINK of playing the desperate card.

But just think, Joe.

When this match is over, you'll be free to find your true calling, cause it sure as hell isnt professional wrestling. Take the loss like a man and move on with your life.

Don't give yourself a false sense of hope, and dreams of things to come.

You're at the end of your road. Props to you for getting this far, but sometimes you just have to realize that you're not cut out for something and stop wasting your life in pursuit of something you can never attain.

Fade to black.