[Fade in on a small hotel room somewhere in South Carolina. It's the night before REBEL Pro Wrestling holds their Notorious show, and Sean Robinson is spending what may be his last night with the REBEL Carolinas Championship belt. The strap is sitting folded on a nearby end table, and Sean lies on the queen-sized hotel bed, watching TV. He looks over at the camera, and mutes Sportscenter.]
"Why hello there. You may not know me, but I know who you are. You're fans of TEAM Wrestling. You're used to seeing names like Ravager, a man I've faced in the ring before, names like Dan Ryan, who I've seen wrestle a couple of times, names like Cameron Cruise. I'll be the first to admit, I know little to nothing about my opponent in the first round of this tournament. But I do know this. He's probably long-winded."
[Sean sits up on the bed, and swings his legs around over the side, putting his feet on the floor.]
"He's going to show up sometime before our match, and he's going to gab on and on about how I'm the underdog, about how I'd better remember who the higher seed is, and how he's seeded higher than me for a reason. Blah, blah, blah. Meanwhile, I'm going to be focusing my efforts on actually scouting him, instead of trying to out-talk him. Because as everyone knows, talking doesn't win matches. These things aren't fought in front of a camera. Okay, they are. That was... Can we do that again? Just rewind it, and... No? Okay, whatever. I'll roll with it."
[He stands and picks up the belt, slinging it over his left shoulder.] "Anyway. Cameron Cruise... Like I said, this isn't about which one of us is more eloquent, or which one of us is a snappier dresser, or who drives a cooler car, or who plays the fastest game of solitaire. It's just you, and me, in that ring. And anything can happen in there. A seven can upset a two. A one can fall to an eight. Seedings mean nothing. They're a popularity contest, really. I just watched a guy, who I've seen take on three opponents at once, be forced to win a match just to get into this tournament. And now, because a couple of schmucks couldn't put on a match, he has to win his entry again, even though he was already in. So before you decide to talk me to death, just remember that it's not about which one of us looks more dominant on paper, or which one of us is the better public speaker. It's about wrestling. Results, in the ring. That's all that matters."
"Finally, someone who has the right mindset, the right idea about how to succeed in this business. It's just too bad that this year it's going to be me."
(Fadein, Cameron Cruise standing in front of a mirror, dressed in a sharp Black-and-White Armani suit, with his favorite trademark "Anarchy" shades on, and his hair slicked back. On one shoulder he holds the CSWA Presidential title and on the other shoulder he holds the Empire Pro Intercontinental title and in his right hand he holds a contract with his signature at the bottom and at the top reads "Number One Contender to the A1E World Heavyweight Championship, but in his left hand he holds a folded steel chair that has the letters "Property of New Frontier Wrestling" imprinted on the back.)
CRUISE: Sometimes when you get into a tournament of this magnitude, it's good to know the man you're facing, not just in the first round, but at any point in the event. Other times it couldn't make one bit of difference who it is, but in this case I'm happy to say that it isn't the latter.
In this case it's a pleasure to meet you Sean, and judging personally by your promo I can see that you and I (Cruise signals to the camera and back at himself a couple times), we share alot of similar views about things in this business, again especially pertaining to the Team Invitational Tournament, or The Tit, if you will.
We've faced some of the same opponents, so going into it I'm sure that our styles won't differ too much.
(Cruise tosses aside the chair as it bangs on the floor.)
That right there means that I know I shouldn't have to expect alot of that in this match. The only exception to that I'd have Sean, is that being that I've been in this business for almost fifteen years, sure I might not be the quickest one out of bed in the morning...I've had my fair share of bumps, bruises, and lacerations.
But I'm a ring veteran and a "Mat wrestler" and skilled "Technician", so I know just exactly what it is I need to do to keep up with you younger bucks out there.
So you'll have to pardon my not taking kindly to your assumption.
We are however, not competing to be a "Number One Contender" to ANYTHING in this company, so obviously we both know that this (holding up the contract), makes very little difference as well.
(Cruise sets the contract off to the side.)
Here's where things get alittle tricky, Sean.
See. I KNOW you're the underdog in this match.
I KNOW that I'm rated higher than you, if anything, just what I've brought with me today PROVES that.
(Cruise tosses aside both titles.)
But by all means scout me Sean, because I'm going to do the same to you; it's "Wrestling basics 101", and believe it or not...a good wrestler will do that if he wants to get the upper hand.
And being that we probably both share the same ideals, it probably goes without saying that you do right?? I thought so too, myself.
(Piece by piece, Cruise starts to loosen up and remove his suit, first the shades, then the jacket, then the tie, etc.)
I've got a High School diploma and a College degree, but believe you me, I'm not going to any "Wine Mixers" and sampling anything remotely close to Es-car-go. I'd just as soon go out for a burger and fries at the nearest "Jack-In-The-Box" and head off to the nearest football or basketball game, after all....
Ain't nothing like sitting next to Jack Nicholson at a game, hell, the things he says are a hoot.
(Cruise now stands tall in his boxer shorts and pulls out car keys from one of the pockets of his suit. On the key ring displays the logo of a Mercedes Benz.)
A parting gift from my ex-wife, albeit, we're not together but for the sake of keeping a normal relationship...Mercy...her name is Mercedes but she likes her close friends to call her "Mercy"...we try and remember the other's birthday and send each other something to go with a card during the holiday season.
Whether it's Christmas, Hannukah, Kwanzaa or Cinco De Mayo, it's in the spirit of things, but you get my point.
However the fact is Sean, I have and love these things, because I know how to take care of myself just as well as I do inside of the ring. Sure, it paints the picture of me being a complete ass and for me that's okay.
But can you really blame me and my success for attempting to live my life comfortably??
Again, it's like we're of two minds, I'm sure we share the same opinion.
So here's the bottom line:
I don't care that you're seeded Seventh, and I could care even less that I'm seeded second. Like you said, seeds in a tournament like this mean absolutely nothing.
But what does have my attention is that on one specific piece of paper, there are rules that specify that if I want to advance to the next round and keep going, I'm going to have to get passed you first.
And rest assured, I'm going to do everything within my power to do just that very thing. Not because I'm more decorated or a better dresser, because that's no where near a factor in this case.
But I've got experience, Sean, and I'm going to use that experience to drive my endurance in this match so that I make sure that I'm the one that comes out on top.
I'm not gloating but when it comes down to it, but for me, being better at wrestling?? It's a way of life.
This week when we meet in the first round of the Team Invitational Tournament, I'm going to show you why and it'll be a REALITY CHECK Sean, and it's going to be one that you just...won't like.
March 5, 1770: A British officer involved in the occupation of Boston is accosted by snowballs after being accused of not paying his bill at a local wigmaker's shop. A British private joins the fray, striking a Bostonian in the head with the butt of his musket. This attracts more angry locals, prompting the British regiment stationed in the area to send a squad of soldiers to keep order. The mob grew to three to four hundred colonials. A private was struck with a club, and fired his musket, prompting the other soldiers to do the same. Eleven Bostonians were shot, five of them died. The aftermath of the incident helped spark the American Revolution.
June 11, 1837: A company of Yanke firefighters collided with an Irish funeral procession on Broad Street, starting a melee which would come to be known as the Broad Street Riot. Over one thousand people were involved at the height of the fracas, vandalizing houses, breaking into homes, and hurling rocks and other items at each other, finally being broken up when the military was called in.
June 14, 1962 to January 4, 1964: Over the course of a year and a half, Albert DeSalvo gains entry to the apartments of thirteen single women, sexually assaulting and then murdering them in their homes. DeSalvo was the prime suspect, and after being caught, he confessed to the crimes. Despite this, the police are still unconvinced that DeSalvo committed all the murders himself, the majority of the press and public believe that Albert was the one and only Boston Strangler. DeSalvo spent the rest of his life in prison, aside from a short time out after a prison break. He was never convicted of the murders. His confession was enough for the judge, as DeSalvo was never even put on trial for the crimes.
April 16, 2009: The most heated rivalry in the National Hockey League comes to the postseason for the 32nd time. Two Original Six rivals, the Boston Bruins and Montreal Canadiens, square off in the Eastern Conference Quarterfinals. The Bruins are the top seed, and the Habs are the eighth seed, but in a matchup like this, seeding goes out the window. Anything can happen. The Bruins take game one at home, and the aftermath nearly sets the Garden alight. After an empty net goal to seal the game for the Bruins, an overzealous Bostonian seizes an opportunity, grabbing Alexei Kovalev's stick as it pokes through a hole in the glass meant for cameras. Kovalev and the fan have a brief tug-of-war over the stick, until a Montreal native charges the Bruins fan, knocking him to the ground and freeing the stick from his grasp. Another man takes a running leap onto the pile, throwing haymakers at the Canadiens fan, trying to help his fellow Bostonian. Security breaks up the fight, and all three are charged with disorderly conduct.
This is the story of the third man in.
[Fade in on a jail cell in downtown Boston. A blond man sits on a bench. His hair is a desheveled mess, hanging down into his face. His Bruins jersey is rumpled, and the left arm is wet from the elbow down, presumably soaked in beer. There's a large cut on his cheek, which has been sealed with Crazy Glue by a medic who happened to be at the precinct during the booking. The man looks up, and his now-familiar face turns from a half-drunken scowl to a large grin.]
"REBEL FANS! No, wait. That's not right..."
[He stops and thinks, pushing the hair back from his face.]
"Oh, right. TEAM FANS! How are ya? I'm doing great, thanks for asking. Hell of a game, eh? If the Habs think they can come into our building and take game one, they've got another thing coming. Hopefully I'll be able to get out of here in time to see game two on Saturday. Season tickets, man, season tickets."
[He stands, and walks to the bars.]
"What's a guy gotta do to get a beer around here!?"
[The cop guarding the cells yells something down the row, but by the time it gets to the end of the block, it's unintelligible.]
"Figures. Get tossed in the drunk tank, and can't even get a beer. How's a guy supposed to keep his playoff buzz going in this kind of atmosphere?"
[Sean walks back to the cot, and lays down. He stares at the ceiling as he talks in the general direction of the camera.]
"This is one hell of a week. I win the REBEL Carolinas Championship, I get to see the Sox open their season, I defend my title, the Bruins take game one of the playoffs, and then I get arrested for defending another citizen. One of these things is not like the others... One of these things just isn't the same..."
[He sings the last two lines, and the cop at the other end yells down again, but again it's just a garbled mess of syllables.]
"And now I get the week off in REBEL. Don't know why, but I'm not complaining. Another week as champ without having to defend the belt, and another week to rest up before my match in the TEAM tournament. Speaking of which. I'm sure Cameron's never seen the inside of a jail cell before now, mister hoity toity, fast cars and faster women, Gucci and Gabbana. But let me give him a bit of insight. When you're in here, behind bars, you get to thinking. Not "how did I get in here" like the cliche from the movies. Mostly just stuff like "I'm hungry, I wonder if I've got any ramen left at home" or "I wonder if Cameron Cruise has ever had ramen", just goofy stuff, really. But sometimes you get a real gem of a thought. One of those thoughts that knocks you on your ass and makes you think "holy hell, that's a really good question". And this time, here's what I got when I pulled that slot-machine arm of thinking. "What am I fighting for?" Not in life, or even just in my general career. In this tournament. I haven't heard any word of a big prize, or a TEAM TOURNAMENT CHAMPIONSHIP BELT. It mostly seems like it's just for pride.
Which makes me wonder, Cameron. Why are you here? It seems to me like you're proud enough for eight or nine people, with your fancy sunglasses and fancier watch. Why are you even in this tournament?"
[The cop comes to the front of the cell, and raps his nightstick on the bars.]
"Robinson. You made bail. Let's go."
[Sean hops up from the cot, and walks out of the frame. The picture goes to black as the sounds of a Boston jail fade away.]
"You see, this is what happens when you get talent to compete in a tournament like this that just happens to a fan of Hockey as well."
(Fadein, Cameron Cruise dressed in blue jeans, a "Tennessee Volunteers" Football jersey, and his trademark black Anarchy shades.)
CRUISE: Kinda like my ol' man told me when I was kid: "I give ya the tools, you got the books, and what do you do...you eat the books."
At least that's what I think he said. He said alot of things but at the same time he was abit of a bottle chaser if you know what I mean. But that's fine, the fact is that we're coming up on a match soon where I have to take on a man more focused on what hockey team is doing and getting involved somewhere where he shouldn't be, and not on the task at hand.
Preparing to face a man like me in the first round of the Team Invitational Tournament.
But the thing is Sean, I may not know what it's like to be IN a jail cell, and that's okay. That's why we have guys like you to do it for me, because I'm not that STUPID to get involved in anything like that.
I've got better things to do with my time then to sit on my ass and think what I COULD be doing instead of actually doing it.
I've made the same argument to another man competing in this tournament, and I've even sent him to jail myself, and it's quite a simple reason why.
You do the Crime, you do the Time.
In this instance, you got arrested at least for Disorderly Conduct and the consequences were spending time in jail. You don't have anyone to blame but yourself and because of that, it's going to cost you in one way or another. You didn't get arrested for defending another citizen, you got arrested for fighting as well as Public Intoxication. There's a subtle difference Sean, and to an outside party like myself...it doesn't exactly make you look any better.
You want to know why I'm here, even though I thought it was made clear the last time; it's not about the clothes or the accessories.
All those things are just what's superficial for me, but it's nice to have don't get me wrong. When it comes down to it though Sean...
It's superfluous when it gets to be time to step in the squared circle.
It's about what you can do in the ring, and I know what I can do...but do you??
I'm in this tournament to see if I can do better than I did in the 2008 version of the same event, which I'm sure you'll agree with me...is the same reason for everyone else returning to compete as well.
But if you don't know what you want to do or why you're even here...then personally I'm going to take that as an excuse to do you a favor by getting you out of here in the first round.
Because nobody likes a tag-a-long, Sean, and that's what's precisely what you look like. But don't you worry, after you exit the 2009 Team Invitational Tournament, you're going to have to find something else to do because you'll have plenty of time to do it.
I don't NEED to be in this tournament, Sean, I want to be.
And if you don't share the same thing in that respect, then trust me when I tell you that this is going to be a REALITY CHECK that you just...won't like.
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