View Full Version : MEXICO CITY: James Irish vs. Fusenshoff

02-05-07, 08:31 AM
A1E World Heavyweight Champion up against one-half of MBE's International Icons.

First round matchup to be held at the Autry Center, Houston, TX on Rice U.'s campus. No RP limit, RP deadline is Sunday, February 11th at 11:59:59 PM (give or take a second).

02-06-07, 03:04 AM
The camera fades in to a shot of Fusenshoff with his head down staring into a Labatt’s Blue in a bar outside of Edmonton, Alberta. He’s been sitting there so long his ass cheeks are implanted into the stool. Everyone in the bar has given him a wide birth- they’ve seen him in this bar before.

Fusenshoff: “The guy no one’s heard of gets a chance to raise skeptical eyebrows.

“Sometimes all it takes is a chance moment when the tide breaks and the stars misalign for an out of luck loser to take down one of the greatest names in sports history.

“Think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable night. Life has a way of giving you exactly what you offer it. What I’ve given my life is nothing but grief, pain and a helluva lot of anger.

Fusenshoff takes a drink of his lager and goes back to mumbling into its mouth.

“I think about all the opportunity I had growing up and the fact that I’ve left it all for dead on the side of the road. The first link that bound me to the life I lead came on my 19th birthday. My first night drinking wasn’t the last, but it was the only night I didn’t drink to drown my sorrows. It was the night I drove home with my kid sister in the car next to me. She called me after some asshole tried to make her his flavor of the night. That was a memorable night for him too, because he picked the wrong guy’s sis.

“I think about that ride home every night and wonder why I didn’t slow down when the pedal hit the floor through the corner of my poor, darling little sister’s life. The car was totaled, my life got totaled, and her life was toast.

“Now in between the endless nights of inebriation I spend those precious daylight hours in therapy. That time is spent in front of thousands of people chanting my opponent’s names. It’s the best way to relieve stress for twenty minutes or more when all I hear are the boos from the crowd of angry witnesses and the bones breaking on my opponent.

“James, you have a lot to live for. You’re holding that big belt and leading a life most wrestlers only dream of. Think about that when you wiggle through those ropes. Think about the millions of your fans watching and the thousands chanting your name. Think of all you have in the world to lose.

“Then take a look at the man standing in the opposite corner and remember what you see. It’ll tell you now that it’ll be the antithesis of the life you lead now. I’m the man you’ve seen walking the streets when you ask yourself how someone can live their lives without hope. What happens to a man when he’s too dignified to kill himself and too sorry to give a damn about living?

“You’ll find out soon.”

02-07-07, 09:59 PM
Fade in to Chinese Buffet/Take-Out place. An attractive young Chinese-American woman stands at the door, greeting guests... pan left to James Irish and Erin Flanagan just sitting down with their food, and James starts to unwrap a fortune cookie.

JIrish: Y'know, these aren't even Chinese. Same as a lot of dishes at these take-out places. Hell, in China they call these silly things "American Fortune Cookies!"

Erin: I don't take much stock in fortunes, lad.

JIrish: Aw, it's just silly fun, really. The kind of fun the world needs more of, I say.

James opens his cookie, takes out the message, and munches down the cookie pieces while reading his fortune. His munching gets slower as he reads it, while a perplexed look appears on his face.

JIrish: What the crap?? Erin, read this, and tell me if it makes any sense to you.

Erin takes the fortune, and raises an eyebrow when she sees what it says.

Erin: "What happens to a man when he's too dignified to kill himself and too sorry to give a damn about living?" Isn't that...

JIrish: Yeah, it's what that crazy Fusenhoff character just said in reference to our First Round TEAM Tournament match. Sounded like something I would have said when I was wearing that stupid black mask and outfit and calling myself Negat1ve One... if I was high on bad mushrooms at the time. Or maybe he found it at the bottom of bottle number thirty seven one night. Now, let me tell you something, Dusseldorf, if you think you can just befuddle me with crazy riddles, you've got another thing coming. In fact...

James holds out his right hand, and a gold-colored cane with a question mark on the top is thrown for him to catch. Then James reaches behind himself and pulls out a green bowler hat with a purple band on it, also with a question mark in the front.

JIrish: ... riddles are something I enjoy. Here's a good one for you...

"Though spelling's not our strongest case
we have depth jams to pheed your phace
Our music's loose and phree and trippy
Come see our show, it's damn skippy!"*

Erin: Lad... the match?

JIrish: Oh, right.

James removes the hat, and gets somewhat more serious... for him.

JIrish: So, Hasselhoff, you want to play the rookie card, huh? That you've got nothing to lose? You have exactly as much to lose as I do in this match, buddy boy. My title's not on the line. And, hell, this is the first frickin' round! Talk to me at round three, or the regional finals for that matter, if either of us make it that far, about having something to lose! If you think you're good enough to topple me and break me into many tiny little pieces, let me tell you this now. An entire parade of veteran wrestlers have tried to destroy me. All have failed. And you think you can succeed? Try me.

Fade out, as James realizes his food has gone cold.

* Copyright 2004 Asymmetric Productions

02-08-07, 02:30 AM
Fade in to see Fusenshoff on a small plane flying over corn fields and farms. He has another man wearing a parachute strapped to his back. Fusenshoff is sky diving. His tandem instructor won’t shut up behind him.

Tandem Diving Instructor: “So you’re a wrestler huh? I might have heard of you. I watch A1E all the time.”

Fusenshoff: “Don’t bet on it. I’m in MBE, but I’m wrestling the A1E World Heavyweight Champion very soon.”

Tandem Diving Instructor: “No way! You’re wrestling James Irish! I can’t believe it. Hey can you get me his autograph?”

Fusenshoff: “Sorry. Left my James Irish signed Blarney Stone souvenir at home man.”

Tandem Diving Instructor: “Well I’d wish you luck, but I’d rather see your shoulders on the mat for three seconds if you’re going up against James Irish, no offence.”

Fusenshoff grins to himself- a look rarely seen on his usually grimacing visage. Maybe the plan will work after all.

Fusenshoff: “James, I have to ask you a favor. I need you to explain to me exactly when I said that I’ve got nothing to lose. Apparently the hardships my British ancestors put your great-great grandparents through had an effect on the family bloodline. I said I have little to live for… there’s a big difference.

“You, on the other hand, have your beautiful friend Erin you drag around everywhere. You have millions of devotees willing to buy your latest tee shirt. You have eating fried dog and other Chinese delicacies to look forward to because your lifestyle and income have afforded you these opportunities.

“People care if you win or lose… if you live or die…

“Before I left home a decade ago the last words my mother spoke to me were these…

‘You’re a hollow shell often mistaken for a man. I pity your soul for its inability to grieve and lay your burdens to rest.’

“I’ll never forget these words because I see myself in them when I glare into the mirror every stupid and wasteful morning. I’d wake up with a tear when daylight I don’t deserve to witness pierces through my window, if sadness were still a facet of my being.

“Instead on those days when I’m not scheduled to face off against World Champions and savvy veterans that mention their accolades and conquers whenever the opportunity arises, I stumble to my dresser to chase ethanol with Advil.

“The morning or the day we meet I’ll rise and pass my vices as I walk out the door. You’re fortunate for the moments you have every day to look forward to. I have moments that I can bear sobriety because releasing my rage in that ring is the only thing that sustains my will to strut and fret on this stage called life.”

After a few moments pass a man opens the door of the plane and Fusenshoff’s sky diving instructor speaks up.

Diving Instructor: “Okay pal, now grab that bar above your head and on the count of three just drop out of the plane. I’ll grab your wrist halfway down and bring it to the cord handle to release the parachute. You just pull and we’ll have about 40 seconds before we land. Remember to lift your knees to your chest so you don’t do a face plant into the ground at the bottom… 3… 2… 1…”

Fusenshoff falls out of the plane with the tandem instructor strapped to his back. Twenty second later the man grabs his wrist, but Fusenshoff doesn’t move his hand to the cord handle. The instructor goes to pull the cord himself when Fusenshoff grabs his arm to stop him.

Instructor: “What the hell’s wrong with you! You’re gonna kill us!”

Fusenshoff and the instructor struggle in the air as they’ve nearly reached the point of no return. The instructor has been trained to handle this situation and brings his free arm around to choke Fusenshoff. At this elevation Fusenshoff nearly loses consciousness and the cord is pulled. They float to the earth with the diving instructor spouting obscenities. He rips himself free of Fusenshoff faster than any other jumper in his life.

Instructor: “Get help you crazy asshole, and get the hell off my property!”

The camera fades out to Fusenshoff pulling his flask out of his breast pocket while sitting in the grass.

Fusenshoff: Well, it was worth a shot.

02-10-07, 02:43 PM
Fade in to a long hotel corridor. Nice, freshly vacuumed carpeting, brass decorations, a mirror at the end of the hall, it's all a pretty nice place. At the end of the corridor, we see a door open, and the camera walks there to find James Irish stepping out, but turns back to the door.

JIrish: Hey, Erin? It's taping time again. You coming?

Erin's voice comes from in the room.

Erin: Sorry, lad, but this'll probably be a minute. Negotiating with EPW ain't exactly walkin' in a garden.

JIrish: Alright, Erin. Take as much time as you need.

James shrugs to himself and walks out of the hotel room, closing the door.

JIrish: As selfish as this sounds, I hate it when this happens. Wrestling is really too serious for it's own good, I think. I try, I really do, to make it a little more fun and get people to laugh a bit. Then someone like you, Fusenshoff, comes along and just makes me stop dead in my tracks, take notice, and wonder if I'm fighting a battle I simply cannot win.

James starts to walk casually, and motions for the camera to follow him.

JIrish: Okay, so you didn't say you had nothing to lose, but honestly, man. What was I supposed to think? You made this big grand point about how much I had to lose, and that story about your sister, which honestly and truthfully was heart-wrenching. So much so I didn't dare make mention of it before. I've got a sister, myself, and I don't know what I'd do if... well... I'd rather not think about it. My point is, even if you didn't say you had nothing to lose, you sure acted that way to my admittedly easily deceived eyes and ears.

So Fusenshoff, no more jokes. No more name calling, no more gags, no more props, no more set pieces, none of it. You want to become the man everyone wishes would forgive himself and put his past behind him, but can't work up the willpower to do it? Fine. I won't try to help you the right way, because I highly doubt there's anything I could offer you that you'd accept from the man you'll be facing in the ring. "You can lead a horse to water," and all that. I may be a bit of a bleeding heart, but I know human mentality well enough that trying to help someone who apparently is willing to not only put his own life into the hands of fate... but someone else's as well.

James stops short and angrily stares at the camera, speaking through gritted teeth.

JIrish: If that's not a wake-up call to me, then I don't know what is. Hell, I'm surprised MBE didn't give you a pink slip after that little stunt.

He starts walking again, the anger slowly starting to drain as he speaks.

JIrish: I have seen some MBE tapes since they re-opened. You're talented, Fusenshoff, I'll give you that much. But if you don't get your brain out of that mental black hole you've let it slip into, you'll just be another Jake Roberts, only without the legacy behind him. The very last thing this business needs. I may have misread your intentions and mentality earlier, but I'm not about to make that mistake again.

So tell me truthfully, Fusenshoff. If you're so callous that you'd attempt to do what you did with that parachuting instructor, why did you even commit to this tournament? I'm not going to make an attempt to psychoanalyze you, I just want an honest answer out of you. Because human beings are nothing if not a complete mess of contradictions of actions and beliefs, and making sense of that one is more than I care to bother with. I know you don't owe me anything, but that's never stopped me before.

James stops at the elevator, and presses the "down" button.

JIrish: Now understand one last thing. I understand that instructor gave you an inch, and you tried to take far more than a mile from him. You won't even get so much as a millimeter from me.

The elevator door opens, and James steps in while the segment fades to black.

02-11-07, 10:37 PM
Fade in as Fusenshoff is walking through a park in Houston, TX by himself, as usual. He is smoking a cigarette with his head down and his flask in the other hand. As he passes a streetlight a couple is smiling and laughing together. They both notice Fusenshoff passing by as their facial expressions change to a look of concern and the woman tightens their locked arms.

Fusenshoff: “I don’t get it James. I’m really not that confusing of a guy. If you really didn’t want to psychoanalyze me, you failed miserably. I haven’t heard someone mention so much about my personality, demeanor and character since a judge in Piedmont, North Dakota declared me not guilty of homicide charges.

“I can understand why a happy-go-lucky guy like you might be very disturbed and confused when fate brings you toe-to-toe with a guy like me.

“It’s so much easier to just cringe and change the channel on the television when guys like me are on the news. You think I want to ‘become the man everyone wishes would forgive himself’…. Man, you’ve got a lot to learn. The last thing I want is anyone interfering in my life. In fact, I’ve purposely avoided contact with anyone that cares enough to ask me anything besides what beer I’d like and what my brand of cigarettes is.

“I’m going to make a rare exception for you and tell you why I’ve committed to this tournament, since you’re so interested.

“It’s because drinking, vomiting and beating the hell out of people are the only things I’ve been good at for over a decade. It’s all I care about. Think about it James. If you weren’t the role model for every red blooded young man who’s a fan of wrestling… if you weren’t the poster boy for A1E… if you didn’t have your houses and boats and cars and all those people who love you… don’t you think you’d need something to get you through the day, week, month, year, lifetime?

“I mean if I didn’t have wrestling then God only knows where I’d likely be buried right now. It could be anywhere in the world, maybe even Houston’s local cemetery.

“Wrestling is the only blessing of my life.

“I thought that would probably be obvious, but apparently I’m a little too complicated for you. You even mentioned your worry that you’re fighting a battle you cannot win. Say it ain’t so James…

“I’d hate for that bell to ring and see you in the opposite corner ready to go. Then as we square off you see something in my movements, in my face, that you’ve ever seen before. You wonder if it has anything to do with my history or my lifestyle. It doesn’t fit your psychoanalysis and then it happens…

“You hesitate…

“It’s the worst thing you can do as a wrestler, as an athlete, as a competitor. Something spooks you and you’re as good as toast.

“I don’t want that James. Sure I want to move on in this tournament, but even more than that, I want to fight you at your best. That’s why I’ll be sobered up for tomorrow night. I’ve fought men that were no match for me and the lack of satisfaction has led me to drink even more. So if you’re so worried about my mental health and stability then do us both a favor let’s make this a battle we can both be proud of.

“To answer your question as simply as I can; it’s what I’ve committed to this whole thing for.”

Fusenshoff finishes off the last of his flask and tucks it away in his jacket. Fade out as Fusenshoff walks out into the darkness of the park in Houston.