A man goes on a long, arduous journey, seeking to find his place in the world.
Along the way, he picks up a few trinkets for his collection, like trophies to brag over.
In his mind, he is the greatest thing to ever walk this planet.
But he is a lonely man, with no one to listen to his boasting.
He continues the tiresome trek, hoping that the destination will be worth the misery.
Eventually, he finds himself at the end of the road, a bag full of accolades and accomplishments…and all for naught.
There is no one waiting with open arms.
No one around to listen to him gloat over his success.
No one to watch him bask in his glory.
And without an audience, that is no glory at all.
His head hanging low in shame, he turns back and makes the even more dreadful journey home.
A place of comfort.
Where he can live inside his own head for the rest of his days.
He can look in the mirror and pat himself on the back, remarking on how great he thinks he is.
He returns to this place, only to find that the locks have been changed.
Struggling to get back into his safe space, he eventually breaks in…and finds that someone has moved in during his time away.
There is no place like home…but this home is no place for him.
Does any of this ring a bell, Brian?
You’ve been on a long, winding road the past few months.
Floundering in your attempts to regain the HOTv Championship after losing it to Jeffery James Roberts, never quite capturing the same magic as when you beat Steve Solex for it.
Lost as you desperately seek to find literally anything to latch onto, to get yourself out of a rut.
To get your wheels to stop spinning in place, and actually move forward with your life.
Trying not to be made obsolete as others ascend to the place you feel you belong.
But this is where you belong, Hollywood.
Stuck in this hole of self-doubt.
Clawing at any and all opportunities to make a name for yourself again.
All the while bragging every chance you get about all the accomplishments you once gained.
We get it, Brian.
You’re a future Hall of Famer.
I won’t even argue that logic.
But while you cling onto the accolades of your past like rusted trophies, the rest of the world has moved on.
No one is willing to listen to your empty gloating.
No one wants to look at all the titles you used to have.
Because all that matters is what’s happening right now.
And right now, with no one willing to put up with your boring “I used to be somebody” speeches, you find yourself making the dreadful trek back to this place of comfort.
Hope you don’t mind that I made a few changes while you were gone.
I took down all the mirrors so you can’t have your own personal cheering section.
All the fancy trophies you collected? I’ve taken them off the shelves, so you have nothing to look at with fondness.
All the walls are stripped bare.
And now you can see this place for what it is meant to be.
Welcome back, Brian Hollywood.
There is no comfort awaiting you here, just misery.
Because months of spinning my own wheels has made me a bitter man, Brian.
I’ve been down a road like this, with nothing to show for it.
And I am taking back my pride.
One fight, one name at a time.
I respectfully put Chris Kostoff in his place, driving away the legend to earn my way into this year’s War Games match.
And what did you do?
Dropped the ball once again against JJR, and watched as he punched his ticket.
Still fighting that impossible fight, of being somebody again.
So here we are, with two shows left before heading to the Ukraine…and one of us is right at home.
The other is trying to break back in, scrambling to find solace in this uncertain time.
But there can be only one occupant here, Brian Hollywood.
And I’m sending you right back out onto the road.
I was even nice enough to pack your bags for you.
All those accolades you brag about are stashed away where they belong.
And I will be sending you on your merry way.