- Event: Chaos 024
”Be persistent, be persistent, they say. But please, do not mistake being a pest for being persistent.
– Nike Thaddeus
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So here we are – only a week out from March to Glory, my first big show since coming back, the first one in several years. I won’t lie and say this means nothing to me. It means everything. It doesn’t really even matter who else is in the ring with me. It’s not about them. I have myself to answer to.
No one has brutalized me in wrestling the way I’ve brutalized myself.
I appreciate you, Joe Bergman. I do. I know you don’t think I do, or maybe you don’t care. Maybe you think this is all just some turn-a-phrase wordplay. But I appreciate you. I remember how things used to be. Two times you held the World Championship. You and I were destined for a clash in Alcatraz for that title. We did the work. We pushed each other to a point where one big moment was in our sights. That is until Cecilworth Farthington wormed his way into things.
Now I love Cecilworth like a brother.
But that moment was meant for you and me, and it was taken away from us. Instead, we had to watch as he took the spotlight from me and the belt from you. We had to take it, and we did. You’re a man of your word. I trust that about you. You can be assured that if Joe Bergman says he will do a thing, that thing will get done. So I know that when you get involved with big blue, and you angrily fire back at GOD about the way you’ve been treated, you mean that. I know you mean it.
You’re misguided though. Because as honorable as you may be, it turns out in the end that honor isn’t necessarily the endgame. I should know. I made a career out of disavowing honor and simply doing whatever it took to be the man. I did it, over and over. I have no moral high ground to tell you how to live your life. But I can spot a fraud a mile away. You’re a fool, Joe. But you’re no fraud.
As it turns out, everyone in this match is a Hall of Famer.
Everyone, but me.
Not me.
I don’t deserve that honor, not yet. Maybe not ever, who knows? But everyone else has already been immortalized next to the likes of Mike Best, Max Kael, Christopher America, Cecilworth Farthington…
I’m the orphan child begging for more.
I have more to live for than red versus blue. I am full-blown red all the way, but that reality is simply incidental. It is not the primary of my existence. I’m here by the grace of GOD. That’s why he has my loyalty. It’s not for money. I’ve got money. It’s not for power. I’ve had power and it’s overrated. It’s not even for championships. I’ve been promised absolutely nothing. But it is about my own opinion of myself. The kind of thing I would have discarded as foolishness ten years ago haunts every one of my thoughts.
Have you ever been unable to live with yourself, Joe? I wonder. I’m guessing not. You seem like such a good guy, such a sweet lovable fighter for the people. Seems you made all the right decisions right from the very beginning.
I did not.
I made every selfish, arrogant, raging lunatic decision and it led me to a place where I was intensely and utterly disgraced. Disgraced. No one else can make you feel that way, Joe. You look inward and find your own judgment of yourself, and mine found me lacking egregiously. I might as well be nothing. Not a champion, not a hall of famer, not even a professional wrestler, unless I go into the ring and reprove all of it. I might as well be a fresh-faced young lion walking into the Tokyo airport and flying back to the states to begin my career. Because everything between that moment and now – – as far as what matters, none of it does. Doesn’t matter at all. All that matters is today. We are promised nothing else.
So where does that leave me, then? It leaves me here, with you, with Stevens, with the Starr of Jattlantis… It leaves me right there, today, and in two days I have a therapy session in that ring. I’m continuing to work out what will ultimately become of me. Will that include the HOTv Title? Will it include the Tag Team titles? Will it include neither?
One step at a time.
Wouldn’t you agree as well, Mr. Stevens? My old enemy and fellow Texan. You have never looked beyond the moment either. And, you’ve been so eager to always forget the past. No matter how many matches you lose, you speak as though you’ve never lost one. Only promised today. Maybe I’ve finally found the one way we’re actually alike. Then again, here I am owning my reality while you continue to deny yours.
I don’t know how many times a man has to lose before even the most stubborn optimist finally gives up, but I suppose it’s only a matter of time before you can tell us. How many times have we been in a ring together, Scott? A fair amount. How many times have you won? Have you ever won? I confess I don’t know the answer to that. But I feel like I’d remember if I had ever lost to you. I know I remember almost all of the other times I’ve lost in my career. But I don’t remember losing to you.
I think it’s nice that your claim to fame, that being your narcissistic stubbornness and complete break with what’s actually happening around you, is keeping you relevant right now. It turns out that it’s getting you an HOTv title opportunity at March to Glory, too.
But of course, first, we have ourselves a warm-up. One must always warm up properly before sprinting into battle. And this will do that very nicely.
I have a checkered history with Jatt Starr, my newfound partner. But I’m starting to like the guy. I thought the jokes were corny and lame in the beginning, to be honest. But now upon looking back I must admit that most of that was me blindly defending a friend against his jabs, a friend who it turns out, would not defend me in the same way.
So fuck that.
New lease on life, a new partner.
And maybe, new championships.
We’ll see.
But if there’s one thing I know for sure, one thing I would bet every penny I have on, it’s that the time will come when the tables are turned. Everyone who looked down their noses at me, everyone who rejoiced in my downfall. All of those people who went through their lives accomplishing exactly jack shit or worse yet, who benefitted from my behavior and my success. Yeah, I have a long memory, a long long memory.
I have a list, and it’s extensive.
Eventually, they’ll be reaching their hands out and up asking for my hand, asking for my help, but they won’t get it. They’ll get a swift kick in the teeth under my fucking boot, that’s what they’ll get.
Maybe that’s what I’ll practice this week. Now that’s an idea ain’t it Joe? Scottie? Maybe this is the perfect chance to put the faces of my enemies on a mental image of your heads, and when I get in the ring this weekend, maybe I stomp the ever-living fuck out of both of you. It’s Madison Square Garden, and the whole world will be watching. So yeah. Maybe I bash your fucking brains in. Maybe you two don’t make it to March to Glory. That’s an idea. Yeah, maybe.
Guess we’ll see.
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”It was revolting that I had been like that. Shameful. Disgraceful, in the old-time sense of the word. And what was even worse? That I could now see myself so wretchedly clearly. I had changed, I recognized bitterly. I hated that I could see myself as I was. What a terrible thing to know. I would never be able to not know it, to forget it. I didn’t see how I could ever forgive them for that.”
– Cate Tiernan
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Chaos 23
February 19, 2023
“Still nothing?”
Dan Ryan’s longtime personal assistant, Phyllis stood at the doorway of his dressing room in Pittsburgh.
He was still looking down at his cell phone, but then tossed it over to a small duffle bag on the floor by a locker. He hadn’t been booked this week but had been involved in a little team-building moment out in the ring. But that only required standard street clothes, so he found himself in the dressing room, alone with his thoughts. Far, far too much alone.
“Nothing.” He said, tossing a glance her way.
“I’m sure they’ll come around in time. Be patient.”
He buried his face in his hands in frustration, then shook it off and sat straight up, looking at her as he spoke.
“Every single woman in my life has tossed me out the fuckin’ window. My wife isn’t speaking to me. My daughter practically disowned me for what happened. My ‘best friend’ is well… obviously not my best friend. Not even a friend.”
She smiled a half-hearted smile. “I can imagine that doesn’t feel very good.”
“I’m not even mad at them, Phyllis. It’s just…”
He stopped and shook his head.
“I don’t like this feeling of loss I’m feeling right now. I’ve never felt this, and it fucking sucks.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” she said, cocking her head slightly to one side. “You never bothered to let yourself feel anything.”
“Phyllis, feelings make…”
She interrupted and finished his sentence.
“…you weak. Yes, you’ve always said that. But here you are. Do you feel strong?”
He stared up at her and thought about what she had said. His eyes started to fall away from her, staring at a bunch of nothing as the words sunk in. He stood up and paced across the room, back and forth, until finally stopping near the entrance to the showers, and bowing his head against the wall.
Phyllis stepped fully into the room and pulled the dressing room door closed behind her.
“The way I see it, you have two choices. You can live your life the way you’ve always lived it, or you can pull a full-blown one-eighty and do something different. You’ve always prided yourself on being a ‘badass’, on being the toughest guy in the room. That works great in a fight. It doesn’t work all that great when you’re talking about the people who you care about the most, assuming you actually truly care about them.”
His head snapped up and he stared hard right at her.
“I can’t believe you would even suggest something like that. Are you suggesting I don’t love my family, Phyllis?”
The look on his face could have sliced through steel. He stared at her and waited for an answer. She measured her words carefully but frowned while delivering them.
“I’m aware that you love your family, Dan. What I’m getting at is whether or not you’ve considered for yourself whether your family or your career is more important to you. How many times have you retired and come back? How many times have you taken shortcuts without regard for how it affects anyone else? That’s what you did with Cecilia. That’s why you’re staying in an empty house these days when you’re not on the road. That’s why you’re in this position. The question, only question that matters… is, what is important to you, not to Dan Ryan the wrestler. What is important to Dan Ryan, the man?”
He stood there, but his expression softened. After a moment he walked back over by the lockers, reached down and picked up the duffel bag, then slung it over his shoulder. Turning, he walked toward the door, where he paused and put a hand on Phyllis’ shoulder. He looked down at her and she looked up.
“I guess I need to figure that out, and that’s gonna take time. I suppose I’ve made enough unanswered phone calls for now. I suppose they’ve got their own sorting out to do. In the meantime, I have a job again, and I don’t intend on blowing it.”
She smiled up at him but said nothing.
He patted her on the shoulder, then turned and opened the door to leave. “We’re in New York City next week.”
Phyllis returned to professional mode.
“Shall I book the usual?”
He stopped and looked back one last time. “Yes, of course. Get yourself a nice room, too.”
She remained deadpan.
“You spoil me.”
A smirk played at the corner of her mouth, and Dan started to get one of his own. He nodded in acknowledgment.
“Thanks for still being here, Phyllis.”
Before she could respond, he was out the door and had closed it behind him. Phyllis pulled her phone out and tapped away, one eyebrow raised, then smiled to herself.
“Think I’ll fly first class.”
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”Man may have discovered fire, but women discovered how to play with it.”
– Candace Bushnell