Well, here we are.
Mike Best, the HOW World Champion, the last man to hold the HOFC belt prior to the DeNucci Cup ushering in the title’s return, easily one of the favorites heading into this entire tournament…and now, you’re in my sights.
If you think I’m gonna give you a verbal blowjob over your past accomplishments, then you clearly haven’t figured out my methods by now…and that would be a damn shame, because you wouldn’t be the first to underestimate me in this tournament.
No, I think it’s time to pull out…the playbook.
See, I’ve been paying close attention to the way most of you operate during the course of this tournament, and I’ve noticed a series of patterns that repeat themselves. It starts with these goofy little promos y’all put out, and ends with the same redundant behavior in every match you compete in week after week.
Don’t believe me?
I went through two rounds of idiots trying to tear me down with the same basic insults and jabs, thinking they’d get under my skin. What they did instead was inspire me to work harder, bust my ass just a little more in training, all so I can shut them the hell up…I took their playbook and tore it all to shreds.
I swept Hannibal Frost away in the first round, running him out of this company altogether in the process. I did that. Simon Loveless and Steve Solex both tried disrespecting me in the following rounds, and I exposed them for the frauds and failures they were. I did that.
And now, it’s your turn.
So what’d ya got for me, Michael? What brilliant scheme have you got cooked up in YOUR playbook?
Are you gonna talk shit about my beliefs, when you come out to the ring having your music sing your literal hallelujahs and proclaim yourself the Son of GOD in the midst of a godless society? Are you gonna point out that I’m the last of the outsiders coming for your throne, Captain Obvious? Are you gonna spout off stupid pop culture references to give yourself a laugh?
None of that shit is gonna fly this time around, not by a long shot. I expect better of you.
I know all about the three stints you had with that HOFC title, and even the time you decided to parade around with it in 2019 just because you could. I’m not even gonna bother repeating your history to you Mike, because you don’t deserve that much hype.
You act all high and mighty as you plowed your way through the first three rounds AND defend your World title in the same span of the past month and a half. It’s just a shame that your playbook is starting to wear a little thin.
You went through Kostoff, you beat Conor Fuse, and ya even managed to knock out the only other outsider that mattered in this tournament in Clay Byrd…but the bullshit you went through with Cancer Jiles last week shows the cracks in your armor.
Look at everything you had going for you last week, Mikey…and you still had to scrape by with a draw.
A fucking draw, Michael.
And now you’ve gotta deal with Jiles again, in a steel cage. Good job setting yourself up for failure.
So here’s what I’m gonna do for ya. I’m going to take your playbook, tear every page out, and throw that piece of shit in the bin where it belongs. Then, when we step inside that cage, I’m going to break that precious knee of yours and dismantle you piece by piece…and present you as an offering to my goddess. With your body and spirit broken, I’m going to punch my ticket to the finals at March to Glory.
I’m looking to do you a favor by giving you less work to do in New York, but just barely…after all, whatever scraps my goddess finds displeasing will be left for Jiles to pick at.
As you can probably guess by now, this tournament has left me feeling a bit sour and a bit salty at times…but tearing you apart in that cage, seeing the beginning of the end of Michael Lee Best…that will put a sweet taste back in my mouth.
In a land where ad nauseum reigns supreme, it is time to walk off the beaten path. In a world that thrives on status quo, it’s time to spread the good word…and the word is chaos.