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The GodSend Returneth

Chad

The Godfather
Staff member
Joined
Mar 17, 1988
Messages
3,928
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Website
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You've got this promotions two godsends... Hornet and my brother, Mark Windham... both mysteriously nowhere to be found, but no doubt watching at home, knowing that they'd never be able to compete.
--Troy Windham​

------------------------------
"What did we care, any one of the three of us, where we sat or how we lived, when youth throbbed hot in our veins, and our souls were all aflame with the possibilities of life?"
--Sir Arthur Conan Doyle​

(One week ago, CSWA owner Stephen Thomas was standing in front of a golden statue in the CSWA Hall of Fame. One display next to the statue commemorates the formation of the UNIFIED World Championship, a task that took two years. Another display gives the run-down of the Hall of Famers accomplishments, a litany that includes 50 championships in the CSWA and out, an ULTRATITLE Championship, the longest-reigning CSWA World Title holder, a three-time UNIFIED Champ. Even to the biggest wrestling fan and amateur historian there are a few listed that are surprising -- an AAWC Universal Title, a WWR North American belt. For a man who has spent the bulk of his eighteen years in the sport in the CSWA, the jumble of letters on the wall is intriguing, at the very least.

A man sits on the turnbuckles in the nearby ring that serves as a center to the Hall's displays. It's the original ring that CS Enterprises borrowed, then eventually purchased, to start the CSWA in the warehouse that once stood on this spot. Around the ring, the displays and statues commemorate some of those who came up through the company -- Mark Windham, once a great champion and friend before he went over the edge; Mike Randalls, never a friend but once a partner and the most intensely focused wrestler he's ever known; Eli Flair, the most updated exhibit and one of the few men in this business that he's ever called friend... but not for years.

The camera crew from upstairs is finished setting up. He takes one more look at the golden statue and almost laughs out loud. If that's Hornet, then who is this sitting inside this old ring? The old Hornet... before Windham's treachery, before treachery of his own, before Ivy left him, before the painkillers got hold of him... the 'old' Hornet was so... so... young. And the 38-year old inside the ring is not.)

"Young men want to be faithful, and are not; old men want to be faithless, and cannot..."
--Oscar Wilde​

So one week ago, Stephen Thomas comes down from the penthouse and announces that, out of nowhere, it's time for ANNIVERSARY. And that in one swift stroke of supposed genius, he's decided that there will be one match... in which everything in the CSWA is on the line.

Not to ruin anybody's day, but he's a few months late. As most of you know, the CSWA's anniversary date was back in March... not that it's ever stopped he and Merritt from using it to make a buck in the past. Hell, we've had ANNIVERSARY in July, ANNIVERSARY in October, ANNIVERSARY on New Year's Eve... why stop now?

In fact, if I recall, this past ANNIVERSARY, most of us were finally making it back home from the latest of Thomas's shenanigans. Much like the shipmates on the Minnow, our three-day cruise turned into a castaway stay on "Thomas's Island," where we got to see Thomas and a midget relive their "Odd Couple" moments. And so the CSWA is stuck with the bill for a cruise ship and several hundred passengers who went through one of the more harrowing experiences of their lives.

And all that screams, "It's time for ANNIVERSARY!", doesn't it?

Then comes the announcement. The one week a year that I'm scheduled to be out of the country. But I don't want to get all paranoid on you... it might wad up Lindsay Troy's panties again, although I hear Troy's doing that personally these days. So I fly back in from Bucharest, start listening to the messages on the machine... "Are you in?", "Why haven't you been on TV?", "Did Thomas finally get rid of you?"

Then I turn on the TV. Troy's on every channel, every talk show, even hocking some sort of combination grill-and-panty-warmer on the Home Shopping Network. And not only him, but "Masked Ryan," tag team champ... I mean US Champ, Kin Hiroshi, even Phoenix and JA are in the mix. And not only *them*, but rocks have mysteriously turned over revealing K-9, Lawrence Stanley, Troy Douglas, Jason Payne... and even Eli Flair.

But there's still more? It's a litany of the great and not-so (I'm not telling which is which) between "Heat Vacuum" Eron, "Eli Flair angled me my one good title" Xias, Nova, John Doe, Karl Brown, Daymon, Zell Hunter, and a whole lot of rooks and journeymen that I haven't seen before.

And just for kicks, we've got the newest member of the Windham family, Lindsay Troy-Windham.. hell, all I needed to know she was a Windham was the way she always decided to stick her nose in my business even when she wasn't wrestling in the CSWA or NFW... and the latest man to walk around with a CSWAwrestlingStore.com version of the UNIFIED Title, Professor Tremendous.

Did I hit everybody? Oh...I almost forgot President Poop's too entrants.. aptly named The Mexican Toiletries. I imagine they'll be managed by Dr. Guggen and that guy who liked to roll the "Wheelbarrow of Justice" around.

With all that name-dropping out of the way, let's see where to start... well, I could spend another thirty minutes like most of you talking about this title and that promotion... or I could spend some more time telling Kin Hiroshi why he's not fit to walk around with the US Title and how he couldn't handle me at PRIMETIME.

Or I could just do like everybody else and start with Troy. (The husband, that is.)

A year ago, Troy, I almost stood up and applauded you. At CSWA17, for the first time in a long time, you stepped up to a challenge other than Eli Flair, and it looked like you realized the importance of what you had done. Despite looking like the "Slacker" of old early on, you cut through the UNIFIED Tournament like a (Slack)knife, then went on to do something that not many can claim, you pinned Dan Ryan on the biggest stage in the sport.

But then you did something that I could've been proud of. You stood up and acknowledged the fans. You stood up and acknowledged your opponent... you even offered him a rematch whenever he wanted it. You stood up like man spoke from your heart... something that very few in the sport have ever done in front of a crowd like that. You talked about coming back from injuries that you didn't think you could recover from. You thanked the people who had supported your career.

And you talked about RESPECT. Your desire for it. Your need for it. Most of all, from your brother. Then when he came out, you took the UNIFIED World Title, the huge prize you had just won, and you strapped it around your brother's waist.

And you signed your death warrant.

Along with it, you almost signed the CSWA's. Everything had been built up to crowning a new UNIFIED Champion. The Thomas screw-ups of the past -- especially stripping Ryan and strapping Melton -- were supposed to be wiped away. You were supposed to stand up to all-comers.

And instead you ended up back in the hospital. Your career in jeopardy, the belt in Mark's hands, and arenas cancelling left and right.

"It's too violent."
"You've got no draw up top."
"I'm not letting Mark Windham in here, he's too unpredictable."

So Thomas decided that he'd float his own boat, so to speak, hiring a cruise liner and using that as his way to run shows on the cheap. And so, in the dead of winter, you stowed away, ready to make your big surprise, ready to reclaim the UNIFIED Title and try to make up for being the worst draw the league ever had as the UNIFIED Champ.

But instead of the glimpse of the Champ-That-Could-Be, we got the Troy Windham of old. Instead of "Mr. CSWA," we got "The Epitome." The man who refused to defend the title against Mark Windham or Dan Ryan. The man who was so scared of being injured again that he wouldn't face down the Windham Curse. The man who once had offered a rematch to Dan Ryan, now couldn't be bothered to even defend the title on the whole Cruise.

And now we've got the Troy Windham is so sure of himself that he's offered a promise, no, a GUARANTEE... that he'll walk out of one of Thomas's concoctions intact and with the title around his waist.

Then again, I forgot. Troy Windham never went through some of the other CS-nightmares. The WHEEL of DEATH. The FIREHOUSE Match. The House of Pain. No, you somehow avoided those and then got baptism by fire against Eli, sacrificing yourself on the altar of Extreme and almost killing yourself to try and prove that you deserved RESPECT.

Now you've got time to call out not only the other thirty-some-odd in this match, but some who haven't shown up. Did you really expect your brother to show up in a match where he can't run in and try and break your neck for what, the seventh time? For Mr. "Lost Soul" to actually show up in a match where he can't claim all the glory for himself?

Or Craig Miles? Craig's too busy trying to prove he can pull "the big one" over on everybody to do anything but run his mouth when called on. And I doubt that the "Cocky One" is going to show up any place I am unless it's his home turf and he's got explosives built into the ring.

Boogie Smallz? The man's passed out in a crackhouse somewhere, his wallet picked over, begging for one more hit.

Beast? Didn't he just do a movie?

Eddie Mayfield? The man's too busy doing Miles' wife... or was that PRETENDING to do Miles' wife... or was that PRETENDING but REALLY DOING Miles' wife... and arguing about a belt that nobody's shown up for (except Tom Adler) in thirteen years.

Michael Manson? Please -- he's got his own little Alice-In-Wonderland world going in the NFW complete with a whole field of goats for him to (bleep). After what I did to him in the "Bamboo Cage" match, or whatever it was called... hell, the NFW wouldn't even show it because it didn't put him over, he's certainly not gonna show up in the CSWA where I can really show him up.

Doc Silver? It's not 1995 and Doc can't book himself into the UNIFIED Title (although I hear he's still trying). Unless he's got enough chloroform and blow darts to bring down an entire ring, I don't think we have to worry about everybody's favorite old fart.

The only things you've got in common with Joe Namath, Troy, are that you both like to get wasted and treat women like whores. If you're dumb enough to GUARANTEE a victory in a match with forty people in it, some of whom you've never wrestled against, then you've gone further over the edge than I'd ever believe.

It means, Troy, that you're closer to becoming your BROTHER than I ever thought possible.

I helped you put that strap around your waist once because the alternative was unthinkable. If I have to help take it away to make sure you don't become a monster like Mark... then I'll do it in a heartbeat.

You're able enough to win, Troy. You could cut through forty people just like you did sixteen a year ago. But that doesn't mean you're GOOD enough.

And it doesn't mean you deserve our respect.

(As the camera pulls back, Hornet hops down from the turnbuckle and climbs through the ropes, leaving the spotlight on the mat's retro CSWA logo.)​
 
Last edited:

GreggG

Moderator
Joined
Jan 1, 2000
Messages
807
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(CUT TO: Troy Windham, cradling his CSWA Unified Championship, in his state-of-the-art television studo.)

TROY: Lord knows I'm not the type to go talking about God... since I already am one. But right now, I'm going to do something none of you have ever seen me do before, and that's genuflect before a higher power.

(Troy gets down on one knee and cups his hands in prayer.)

The reason I'm doing this is simple... because the day I've been dreaming for has finally arrived... the day that I will finally destroy the legacy of Hornet forever.

Hornet, don't get me wrong. I'm not like one of the countless others who thought they'd get the best of you, only to see you ruin their careers. I'm not a guy like Jim Williams, Hornet. I'm not Wall, Hornet. I'm not Degadeath or Dream Machine any of the other guys long dispatched to the annals of lame gimmicks you sold the **** out of to make a quick buck.

"Yeah, Jim. That's great that you burnt me with a branding iron. I'm going to make sure you stay a main eventer for a real long time."

Hornet, critiicizing me. The same guy who made a career of building up low-grade talent and then destroying them, all to keep his name on top of the sheets, all to keep his name on top to a bunch of folks who didn't know any better.

"Hey, hey Sammy... can you put the prescription in your name? It'd be really bad for business, and for your salary, if the sheets got word that I was popping 45 somas a night."

Your criticisms of my business practices are besides the point -- I'm sure the second mortgage was just to help with those Greensboro property taxes, and not because of any royalty checks not coming in like they once did.

Y'see Hornet, you're the most dishonest person in this history's industry. Your BIIIIG long awaited turn on the fans? Let's talk about what that was REALLY about, Hornet. How long did it take you before you couldn't ignore the chants from the cheap seats anymore.

"Hornet Sucks! Hornet Sucks!"

The man who claimed to have sold out every arena in this country, hearing those chants get louder. I mean, what's to lose? Why NOT turn heel? The merch stopped moving long ago. The Hornet plush dolls stockpiling high in some warehouse in Winston-Salem. The T-shirts now found on the countless racks of Salvation Army thrift stores in every ghetto on the east.

"I'll GIVE them a reason to chant Hornet Sucks!"

It was just business. Nothing personal.

Y'see, Hornet, here's the underlying deal of your whole promo right there.

When did the chants start? And when did they get really loud?

It was when I burst on the scene, my man.

Yeah, I know I usually dress in the heel locker room. But there was always that certain segment of the audience that didn't boo me, Hornet. They EMBRACED me.

And their chants got louder and louder as I got bigger and bigger.

And why is that, Hornet?

Because everything you represent... everyone in your generation... you, my brother and everyone else who came before me -- you don't represent those people. You're a transparent clown who used everyone to protect his spot.

Me? I'm who the fans wish they could be. Not some phony hero who charges $20 at the dirtmall for a Poloroid. I'm the guy who talks smack, gets the girl, lives in the nightlife and does whatever he damn well pleases, without giving one care in the world what one person says about him.

Hornet, you say I'm not Mr. CSWA anymore?

Son, I'm more of the CSWA then you'll EVER understand. These fans don't want your Zubaz pants and your arm tassles and your face paint anymore.

They want the guy who likes the bands they do, the guy who hangs out with The Strokes, the guy who wasn't using Believe It Or Not I'm Walking On Air as his theme music unironically well into the 21st century.

Beverly Hills... that's where they want to be. Living in Beverly. That's why, my man, I get the screams and the chants even when I steal titles after stowing away on a ship, when I marry women against their will, when I use all my dirty tricks to ensure that I remain on top.

That's why, Hornet, this event is sold out. Why it's the buzz of the professional wrestling world. Everyone wants to see if someone can knock me off the hill... and everyone knows that if they don't, they're going to see me gain my rightful spot as the greatest who has EVER lived.

Hornet, I said when I was 19 that I was the voice of my generation. My generation has arrived. 18-35, pal. That's the only demographic that matters. That's who buys the tickets. That's who buys the PPV's. Yours is subscribing to AARP newsletters and wondering about lawn care techniques.

Hornet, my generation got over you a long time ago.

At Gold Rush, I'm going over you, too.

I saved this league once, the time you raised my hand. I'm saving it again.

This time, I won't LET you raise my hand.

Instead, I'm going to spit right in your face.

(FTB)
 

Chad

The Godfather
Staff member
Joined
Mar 17, 1988
Messages
3,928
Points
36
Website
thecswa.com
Make Your Choice

(Hornet is down the hall from his original promo, now apparently in the middle of what was once Merritt (now CSWA) Auditorium. He's running the ropes, shirt off, as the camera crew comes in this time. He kneels down near the center of the ring, in the middle of the CSWA logo, and faces the camera, which is still outside the ropes.)

Destroy my legacy, Troy? You're holding my legacy in your hands. You're holding the belt that I went door-to-door for, that I wrestled night after night for, in your hands. It may be by the grace of God that you're the UNIFIED Champion, but it's by the Herculean effort of Hornet, the one you called a Godsend, that you've got anything to strap around your waist.

You know better, Troy. You were breaking into the business when Jim Williams did THIS (points to the faded scar near his hairline) to me with a branding iron. The same business that your brother and I broke you into, that we trained you for. I was there the day you held your first Greensboro title, and I saw the same tears in your eyes that came last year at ANNIVERSARY when you won that UNIFIED strap.

And I was proud. Almost as proud as your big brother. But I also saw the emergence of "The Slacker" after you lost that belt. You decided that if working that hard wasn't enough to keep the belt around your waist for all-time, then it wasn't worth it.

And what about those HACKS I built up to keep my name on top, Troy? Where's GUNS today? What about WALL? Degadeth? Lex Vicious? Dream Warrior? Or even your brother? Where are they all? They're all sitting at home on piles of money that I helped them make.

But what about the boys that helped you get to the dance, Troy? Where's MJ Dean now? Running a bar in Chapel Hill that *I* helped him buy, not you. Where's Shane Matthews? Did he ever climb outta that garbage can you rolled him down the hill in?

You've made a career of diving into the fray, pissing off as many people as possible, and then getting your ass kicked and running away with your tail between your legs, Troy. You're worried about my painkiller problem, Troy? One I faced up to publicly and had to fight through publicly? What about your little "hiatuses" to deal with a series of statutory rape charges, when you were supposedly shooting on "7th Heaven?"

And now, 'champ,' let's not rewrite history, shall we? I sold out a 100,000-plus seat arena in YOUR HOMETOWN as a babyface just before I turned heel. And night after night sold the same arenas out after I took that branding iron and plunged it into the head of Mark Vizzack. And "TROY2K" didn't show up and make a splash on the scene until you decide to reveal a little secret about me. Your fame didn't come from your prowess in the ring, 'champ,' it came from the fact that you decided to tell your brother I was sleeping with his EX-wife.

See, I've never pretended to be perfect, Troy. No matter how squeaky-clean Merritt and Thomas wanted me to be, I never could be. And no matter how dirty and crooked they wanted me to be, I couldn't do that either. I had to find my own path, my own way to live with myself, my triumphs and my mistakes. I've lived more of my life in front of a camera than any reality TV star... and it's been more real, more honest, than anything you've ever put out there, Mr. Beverly Hills.

When you held out that title, when you teared up, thanked everyone and then strapped that title around your brother's waist... that was the most real you've ever been on-camera. I saw the same look on your face as I did after your first match, when you ran up to Mark and asked him how you did. You just wanted him to be proud of you. Just wanted to hear a "good job."

It's time to face up and realize that Mark's never gonna do that, Troy. For whatever reason, he's too far gone, too mired in his own pain and perceived slights to ever see you as a brother again, let alone to be PROUD of you for anything you do. And that hurts me as much as it does you, Troy. But I've learned to live with it.

You talked about destroying my legacy, Troy. But the fact is, you're part of that legacy. From the day Mark allowed you in the ring and you begged to feel the Scorpion Deathlock... to your first title... to your first rejection.

You've got a choice to make, just like your brother did. And so do I. After Mark put you back in the hospital, after he took that strap that you now have, I said on that ridiculous ship that my sole goal was to take that UNIFIED Title away from him. Now you've got it back, and you'll step into a ring eight-on-one to defend it, and to prove that you're not a fluke, to show that you've got the staying power and stake a claim as one of the greatest of all time.

But to do that, you're going to have to be real, Troy. You're going to have to give up "Mr. Beverly Hills" and bring back "Mr. CSWA." You're going to have to realize that not even blowing through this match is going to make Mark proud of you or bring your parents back.

So if, even after all that, you decide that your goal, that your true desire, is to "destroy my legacy," then I've only got one choice. And that's to end this God-forsaken Windham saga once and for all.

Make your choice, Troy. And I'll make mine.
 

GreggG

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Joined
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Messages
807
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(CUT TO: "The Big Man On Campus" JJ DeVille, stadning in front of the Dean Edwards Smith Center in Chapel Hill, the home of the University of North Carolina Tar Heels. JJ is holding his trig textbook and is wearing his NC State varsity jacket.)

JJ: I'm used to not getting any respect or credit. Jay Smash date rapes the former girl of my dreams on national television, I mention my past relations with her, no mention. JA, a no-name without any chance in hell of winning this thing, I'm a throwaway mention on his LiveJournal. Other competitors are attempting to use my billing, The Ultimate Cinderella Story, without so much of a diss lobbed my way. Dan Ryan, he can't be bothered. Hell, even Troy Windham, whom I know better than anyone in the field, the man I gave the last CSWA loss to... he drops my name once and then moves on to spar with the "talent" who've joined the league for Gold Rush.

Mr. Hornet, I wasn't expecting you to mention me at all. I mean, why would you? You're THE all-time legend in this industry. You're the man who MADE the title Troy is cradling right now, the man who built the CSWA, the man who made it possible for a guy like me to make a living as a professional wrestler. Mr. Hornet, I wasn't even a teenager, but I still knew the importance of what I was seeing. My uncle and me, we had second tier seats at the Merrit Auditorium, right in my native Greensboro, when I watched you and Wall go at it for 90 plus minutes. The Dream Match. The Greatest Match Ever. Mr. Hornet, you made it possible for a kid from Lindley Park to dream the dream. That one day, I could be a professional wrestler. That one day, I could have everyone wearing my face paint and chanting my name.

So, thank you, Mr. Hornet for all that you've done.

And, thank you, Hornet... IF THAT IS INDEED YOUR REAL NAME... for what you're about to do for my career.

Y'see, I wasn't expecting you to come out here and do anything but talk about our good friend Troy. As you said before, the entire world seems to be talking about him right now -- or, at least, he's talking to the entire world. But you seem to have forgotten something, Hornet. That's, y'know, the 30-some-odd other wrestlers in this thing. Everyone in the world wants a crack at Troy, Hornet. Everyone in the world wants to wear the belt you made, even if it's just for one night, Hornet.

And everyone else wants it a little bit more than you do.

Now, Hornet, you probably remember me from the brief time we shared a CSWA locker room together -- actually, well... no, we never shared a locker room together. You were too good for that, weren't you, Hornet? Too good to change with the guys sharing a Days Inn room after the show. Too good to be seen with the likes of a Greensboro Champion. Well, I was too good for them, also -- that's why I got to change in the Playboys Party Bus, so long as Troy'n'Eddy didn't catch me.

Maybe that's why I'm also not like the 30-other guys in this thing who are apparently too scared to mention your name in a promo.

"Oh god, I'd better not mention him! If he finds out, my career will be over! I'd better not even make eye contact with Hornet! Man, I wonder if he needs someone to lace his boots for him?"

Hornet, not only am I not afraid to mention your name on national television... I'm also not afraid to say this.

If we end up in the same ring at Gold Rush, Hornet, when you wake up after you unknowingly crashed and fell to the floor from the ring above, the first thing you're going to see is me, because I'm the person who is going to toss your ass out.

I know all about the legend, Hornet. I know all about the myth, Hornet.

And I am absolutely not afraid of you. Not like everyone else.

Plus, Hornet. I've beaten Troy Windham. You haven't.

Hornet, I'm the guy who worshipped you as a kid, the guy you sent the form letter fan mail back to. The little brat waiting for you after a show at the Merrit Aud, hoping to get an autograph that never came. I'm the guy from the locker room, with the unfortunate perm and the music taste nearly as bad as yours, hoping for a few seconds of your time, so you can impart me with the advice that made you who you are, only to see you brush me off since I'm not carrying the right pain pills.

And I'm the Ultimate Cinderella Story. The guy without the prom date, the kid shoved into the lockers, the guy who couldn't even hit a move on "Luscious" Lance Leizure... and I'm walking out of Gold Rush as the new Unified Champ.

And, Hornet, I intend on going through you to do it.

The lack of respect I have from my peers? No one mentioning my name? No one thinking I'm a threat to win this damn thing?

There won't be anymore of that when I shock the hometown crowd and displace their fallen hero.

Hornet, I don't get along with Troy Windham too much anymore... but he taught me a lot, and there's one thing I happen to agree with him.

If I get the chance, I'm going to spit in your face.

After all, the Duke kids and you Chapel Hill boys always get your way.

Now the BMOC from NC State in Raleigh is going to get his.

(JJ walks past a statue of Dean Smith, wearing a NC State hat. Then he walks past a statue of Michael Jordan, wearing a NC State varsity jacket. Then JJ walks past a statue of UNC grad Hornet (Class of '29), who is wearing both the hat and matching jacket. FTB.)
 

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