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Post by PANGAEA on May 13, 2015 18:59:09 GMT
 -v-  World War Tournament: Quarter Final [Single Match] Cesar Salazar vs. Jake Mandell |
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Post by Jake Mandell on May 14, 2015 15:37:10 GMT
Cesar Salazar...
The greatest wrestler that I have yet to face. You've flown around the globe, you've won championships and you've made a name for yourself in Mexico and even in America. We are flying to Germany where the auto mobile and the first ever computer was created. A land of creation and innovation.
So what the fuck are you doing, flying thousands of miles to go there for?
I mean, I'm a fan of you. I've studied your tapes while I've been on my own journey while I try and climb the ladder that all of us are trying to climb. I've watched your tapes and studied your matches as you went on to become a champion. I remember the Cesar Salazar of old, the man that managed too entertain fans despite his obvious lack of talking ability.
At your very first event in Pangy, you beat up some poor kid who wanted to become a professional gamer for a living. Is that what you have become now, Cesar? You have to beat up wimps to get off?
Because while I admit that I'm not the best in the ring nor am I the best on the microphone, I try and give the fans as much as I can. I try and give them their 20 dollars worth.
Excuse me, 20 euros worth.
But you? You've become a shadow of your former self. You truly disgust me, and I've seen a lot of disgusting things. I mean, I once saw a man and a pig an...
Gettin' off topic.
So you beat the piss outta this poor kid and you have the fuckin' nerve to celebrate? You celebrate in the center of the ring while the fans boo the shit out of him. You have to inflate your fuckin' ego because you weren't the man you were 10 years ago. You said in your last promo that you want to wrestle our generation but in reality you just want to prove a point: that you are better than the rest of us.
But that isn't true. And I'm gonna prove it. I'm gonna do exactly what you did to Armada at Chapter 1 and that's slap the piss outta you. I'ma slap the piss outta you and then I'm gonna pin you. I'll be laughing while I do it.
Maybe after I do that I'll hit you with a chair for good measure. Lord knows you've taken enough bumps, and I'm thinking your brain might still be scrambled from whatever type of head trauma you've suffered. Maybe I can fix that. Or maybe I'm just looking for an excuse.
I've been through glass and I've landed in thumb tacks, but this tournament that Pangy has entered me in is my first chance to prove that my hard work has actually paid off. Becoming the first champion of this place signifies that I've actually gotten somewhere in this business, and I'll have beaten someone that actually matters. Not being beaten by some gimp in a mask.
I respected you, Cesar, and you betrayed me. I would love for nothing more than for you to bring your best.
Because I know that you've faced psychopaths and "plainly violent men" and that description seems to fit me just fine.
But you're older now. You're slower. I think you know that and so do I. I may be facing Cesar Salazar but I am not facing 'THE' Cesar Salazar. I'm not facing the man that took those beatings and came out on top. I'm not facing the man that held many Undisputed titles that proved he was one of the best around the globe. The type of competitor that only 4 generations of wrestlers could breed.
No, I'm facing 'The' Cesar Salazar who beats the shit out of a fucking school boy just for his own self gratification. I'm facing 'The' Cesar Salazar who has had to scale down his wrestling repertoire to make sure that he doesn't land on his back the wrong way and become paralyzed. I'm facing a disappointment.
I may have lost last week but I was never pinned nor was I even submitted. I took the best of what the gimp had to offer and I never stayed down for longer than 10 seconds. I may have gained a loss on my record but that loss did so much more for me than your win.
The Blake family dominated that last event, and they made sure that their presence was felt as Brooklyn and Avalon were in both the final and semi-final, respectively. I bet that fucking burns, doesn't it? Cesar Salazar isn't a headliner anymore. He isn't a main event attraction. He just watches the world go by, clinging on for what he used to have.
Well Cesar, before we face off I want you to think about all the things you used to have. All those undisputed belts and those accomplishments. I want you to think long and hard about that shit. Really relive your memories.
Because I'm gonna drop you on your fuckin' head.
And after that, you'll soon be forgettin' what you used to have.
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Post by Cesar Salazar on May 20, 2015 1:59:27 GMT
A champion surpasses all competitive rivals, yes, but the champion I wish to be and have been before is a promoter of honor, dedication and technique. I do not sneer nor look down from an imaginary mountaintop. Owning the golden belt means you're the one temporarily wearing jewelry among your peers. That's it.
I'm surprised my recent in-ring actions confuse you, Jake, or sent mixed signals. I did not intend to embarrass Armada when I kicked blood out of his face – that was an unfortunate result. I meant to kick a little lower but alas my aim isn't quite what it used to be. But what of Armada's gaming habits? He was inside a professional ring in front of a global audience. There are inherent dangers in entering this sport, but his willingness deserves respect. And I do not agree with the audience member that snickered. When I celebrated, I did so on the turnbuckle in a vulnerable moment. It was my first victory in three years.
I don't know what to make of you linking Germany's automobile and computer history to our match other than your argument in the classification of what was invented first by whom? Is this a way to call me uncreative? Do you feel one must be creative against you? I figured by watching your previous triple threat you're unafraid to do what works in punching and manhandling. This is a caveman strategy. Man at his basics.
Instead of a club, you threaten to bash me over the head with a steel chair. No need, Jake, I'm dazed enough by your promo riddled with contradictions. You respect me for my discipline but now you don't respect me for schooling a trickster. You chastise me for alleged sadism but you gleefully intend to wound me. You imply Pangaea hosts in Germany to create innovative talent, and yet you rely on trite, toothless aggression that didn't even earn you a win last chapter.
I'm picking apart your thinking as effortless as I chop limbs in the ring. That's always been my way. But I cannot underestimate you, no matter the ease of this response. Olethros is a challenge yet to come for me, but I know how hard he is. And when he admits respect for your survival, as it were, after merely tossing you outside the ring, that's revealing. Fans know you may not articulate potent points nor outwrestle psychology, but you swing hard and those shots devastate when they land.
And that's what I look forward to most. Armada never could threaten me as you might. And you rightly point out my deep history with your violent type. Last week's win felt good for the sake of it, but this win would speak truer to the question of me continuing at a Champion level in this sport.
“Yesterday Salazar could match blow for blow, hold for hold, jump and fly, bump and lay in wreckage, but what can Salazar do today? Yesterday was then, and this is now.” say my critics. Do I rile in protest? No. They could be right. Hundreds of other classic athletes past their prime and suffering mid-life crisis (or so diagnosed by the media) lumber across their respective playing fields. I honestly don't want to be the same, but I'm not the same until I know where's my end.
You, Jake, can be my end. This isn't strictly about another advancement in a tournament. That's the goal and narrative of most of these other matches, but here in this battle of old versus young, idol versus admirer, brain versus brawn, there's a deeper theme tracking my journey, and right now it's most visible. Who am I? The greatest wrestler you have yet to face, or the broken shell wherein all the specialness died? Help me answer this, and I'll help you make the fans' payment worthwhile.
Because the famous bits of my career were against men like you. Our styles clash. Pure wrestler versus hardcore thuggery. Could this be our sport's good versus evil trope? Time deems this story endless and complicated. We may not be the Main Event – the headliner of Chapter II, but our battle could instigate the promise of world war: total annihilation.
Praise be to the survivor of this match.
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