Post by Deleted on Mar 16, 2016 11:54:00 GMT
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Sloppy, Jason.
Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy.
Since when do you trust clowns? More importantly, since when do you trust clowns that you know are up to no good and that you know are aligned with someone who isn’t very nice?
And yet, when you see them out there promising you cake, you go to them like a gullible idiot, when you know it’s probably a trap? Why? Because you don’t want to lose face in front of your fans? What fans? The ones who were booing you out of the building because they like the guy who beat?
Yeah…the whole thing was a mess, from start to finish. I deserved that beatdown, just for being stupid enough to walk out there in the first place. And sure, AEX got their receipt later that night, but still…sloppy, Jason. Very sloppy.
And now, I’m in a match with the same guy who beat me down then, the same guy who already defeated my tag team partner. Frank ‘D. C.’ Wiland. Someone I could respect, if it wasn’t for his attitude. Frank is the type who walks into a company thinking he's owed a shot, thinking that just because he’s him, he can get whatever he wants. He was never taught humility. Probably never had to work for his goals. He’s the exact opposite of me – which is probably why Tiger thought putting me in a Street Fight against him would be a good idea.
What neither Tiger nor Frank know, though, is that I have pride too. I don’t ever let it take over, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there. To me, being a Champion is about more than holding a belt. Being a Champion means working harder than you did when you were trying to get there - because, as Spider-Man taught me growing up, with great power comes great responsibility. As a Champion, you’re the face of an entire company. You’re the one people look up to. Kids. Teenagers. You have to look the part. You can’t afford to let your opponents intimidate you into doubting yourself.
That’s what both Tiger and Wiland have wrong. They think I’m afraid of them. They think beating me down, playing mind-games, or whatever strategy they come up with next is going to rattle me. They don’t see that they’re only making it worse. That every threat, every odd they stack against me, every trick they try to pull, only makes me more determined. Determined not to let them win. Determined to prove I deserve the belt around my waist. Determined to endure, and survive, and overcome the odds. Just like I always have. Just like I always will.
Because I’m more than a Vanilla Midget.
More than a goofy flavoring-themed flippy guy in a mask.
More than a poor boy from Indiana running away from his past.
I'm a Champion.
The Champion.
The Pollomania Supremo Champion.
And on March 23rd…I plan to live up to that name.
Final Word Count: 495