Post by Tony Savage on Sept 18, 2022 12:47:20 GMT -5
“No such thing as a perfect promo, Carson. No perfect wrestler, no perfect style. My sport’s basically a blank page or canvas. You can do whatever you want. It’s a sandbox world.”
Vero Beach, Florida
Couple days a week, Tony does conditioning training courses for CAPC (Champions Advantage Performance Center) down in Florida. It’s a bit inconvenient for him, considering he lies primarily in London or on the road…
Plus he’s a born Georgia boy, and Georgians generally try to avoid anything Florida. Especially Floridians. They come up to ATL, drive like shit, and bring their foolishness with. Tony read about some dude from Miami trying to smuggle an alligator into a strip club in his hometown. These people are kind of nuts. Dealing with wrestlers and their dysfunctions is enough; he doesn’t need to marinate himself in more crazy than necessary.
So there’s no way in hell he’d live here full time. But he Airbnb’s a small house when he does show up for his side gig, and his neighbor is alright. His kid, on the other hand, Tony really liked.
Carson Bell was 13 years old, and until 2 years ago, when a freak traffic accident injured his mother and left Carson in a wheelchair for the remainder of his life, wanted to be a wrestler. He loved the sport, loved the lingo and the action. He really loves the fact one of the most famous wrestlers on Earth crashes next door for a few days every week. Carson always picked Tony’s brain about the sport, always inquired about the workings in the ring and behind the curtain. Kid could be a great backstage employee someday; he is pretty knowledgeable about the game.
The kid wants to learn, and Tony is more than happy to share what he learned, as he was grilling kiddo a burger on the deck, and some tuna steak for himself.
“There are SO many ways to approach a promo. I mean, the shit I’ve seen over the years on screen…you just never know what truly works. Things I think are wild and stupid sometimes get over when fans see it. Sometimes promos you think are guaranteed fire don’t get the love. It’s never cut and dried what fans will want to see.”
“So, there’s no formula or rule book for it?”
“Not really, but…”
He flips the meat on the grill and gets a burger bun ready for Carson. "There are fundamentals like everything. Can't drop threes in the NBA until you learn how to dribble. Let me give you an example."
"First off, the recap. Since it's been a minute, people might need to catch up. So...'
"For those that don't know, Jacob Koening's punk ass put his suicide note on wax when he jumped me. Bitch didn't double tap me like Zombieland, so now I'm coming back from the dead to eat him alive. Pussy ass shit. Fucker knew he couldn't bomb on me face to face, so I get Pearl Harbored. You know what happened later down the road with those folks, like Koening gonna find out..."
Tony balls his fist and cracks his knuckles: "Fat Man and Little Boy gonna nuke that ass. Koening gonna need to legally change his name to Hiroshima after I run into his ass in the locker. So, there...recap covered. Basic chore like checking air in tires, but it's necessary sometimes. Next..."
He's flipping the peppers and onions and checking the meat. "Now, explaining motivations. People need to know why you stepping in that ring besides i like beating people up for money and free screen time..."
"Well, losing almost 3 months to a bullshit injury, not to mention TWO titles in two companies because of this incident and nearly having my career shortened is good motivation to get back to business. 3 months of sitting on the sideline watching other players you can run circles around eating good while my ass is on the couch in a cervical halo bored off my ass and making my wife worry her ass off...yup...real hot fire under my ass right now. I don't have to tell you of all people, Carson, how frustrating it is watch your plans and your future messed up because some asshole hurt you because they were doing something stupid. You want lettuce with your burger, onions?"
"No tomato, please." Carson shook he head and drank his Baja Blast as he took mental notes.
"Don't blame you; these things are trash. Should have went to another store to pick them up." Tony puts his tuna on a side warmer while he preps Carson's burger and hooks him up with some fries. Anyways..."
"Little secret about real good wrestlers is, we're real restless people. We don't even like waiting in fucking line at the store without crawling out of our skin because we're folks always seeking constant motive. Moving forward is the only speed we know, and when the brakes get hit suddenly it disrupts us. People sit around stewing in frustration, feeling sorry for themselves and finding reasons to grind axes. Nah, not me. All I thought about was what I need to do to heal up, and get back to doing what I do in there night in and night out."
"And what's that, Tony?" Carson asks before he chews on his meal.
"Be awesome every time I step on canvas. Like I've done for years. I know it's not exactly the most intricate and original incentive to fight back from adversity, but sometimes you don't need a chainsaw to get the job done. Just a scalpel. Another tip about wrestlers is they tend to make shit WAAAAAY too complicated."
His meal is done, and he plates it up. He sits across from Carson and starts eating.
"Next part: match and company hype. Gotta get the marks juiced up to tune in. Something along the lines of blah blah blah Monday, blah blah blah Clash in Orlando! Tony Savage returns...yadda yadda yadda...get Paramount Plus now (Paramount LOVES it when you shout them out)!"
"Nothing to do with the fact you rep them in the UK now that Britain gets access to the service?"
"Easy Peasy side quid in the pocket, young padawan!" He cuts a slap of fish and chews on it before continuing. "After that, depending on your moral alignment and willingness to get notice, either shout out or diss the local sports team. I can't really this time; Orlando Magic are too bad to lift up, and knocking them at this point's like fist fighting a toddler. That's just cruel. After that, you can freestyle. Jokes, threats, hype up or drag your adversary, maybe bring in a celebrity to do a skit...shit...it's your world. Make it anyway you want. But in the end, the most FUNDAMENTAL aspect of a promo is to tell the truth. And the truth of the matter in this case for me is I'm facing an opponent this week who chronically does THIS SHIT when it's time to hit the game winner when it really counts."
Tony crushes a Mountain Dew can, and bricks that shot against the rim of his rubbish can intentionally.
"I'd explain in full detail that is a metaphor on how Black and Mild smokes in the ring. Every time since he's been here, he always drops the ball when it truly counts. Odin ate him in the end like candy: John becomes a Sour Patch Kid about it. The guy drops opportunity after opportunity. Grinds hard in the regular season, but can't Steph Curry it in the playoffs. I'd bring up this cat always talking about how things are gonna change, only for history to repeat itself. How he likes to claim he's not a guy you can just roll over, but still gets sped past anyways. How he says he's just one step away from the next level..."
"Then his legs give out and he falls on his face near the finish line. Because that's truth. Months of clinical observation, and that's the diagnosis I'd give to him. Guy's got a problem choking like he needs to hire somebody to constantly give him the Heimlich maneuver. He's not bad in the ring, not a bad dude. But..."
"I'd have to explain what separates men like me from him. How I change and evolve to get the job done, while he does that same 2 step every week on air. How I did in less time in AW what he can only dream to do. Why there's a reason this company is hyping my return to the blue and yellow brand with the same enthusiasm McDonald's does when the McRibb's back on the menu. Or how maybe, just maybe...."
"Remind him while he's being stifled time and time again by anybody with a remotely excellent resume, that Tony Savage is so good, they literally had to send the top guy in the company to break my streak! And if Gerald had a problem putting me down, what's a guy like Black gonna do?"
He finishes his steak, and washes it down with a icy glass of tea. "After that, the finish. Recap, final statement, throw in the catchphrase if you got one. Basic shit. Once you learn the fundamentals of promo, then you can build on it. Throw in the production pizazz, break out the props or whatever. That's the thing about cutting promos; there's always a different way to approach them."
"Like cutting a promo without realizing you just cut a promo, Tony?"
Tony put his cup down and chuckled. Carson had been recording the whole thing on his iPhone the entire time. He passes Carson the fries.
"Kid, it won't be in the ring, but you might have a future in this biz. That was slick. If Black and Mild chokes on his own smoke cloud in that ring on Monday against me, like he tends to around the really good ones...'
"I dunno if I can say the same for him!"
Vero Beach, Florida
Couple days a week, Tony does conditioning training courses for CAPC (Champions Advantage Performance Center) down in Florida. It’s a bit inconvenient for him, considering he lies primarily in London or on the road…
Plus he’s a born Georgia boy, and Georgians generally try to avoid anything Florida. Especially Floridians. They come up to ATL, drive like shit, and bring their foolishness with. Tony read about some dude from Miami trying to smuggle an alligator into a strip club in his hometown. These people are kind of nuts. Dealing with wrestlers and their dysfunctions is enough; he doesn’t need to marinate himself in more crazy than necessary.
So there’s no way in hell he’d live here full time. But he Airbnb’s a small house when he does show up for his side gig, and his neighbor is alright. His kid, on the other hand, Tony really liked.
Carson Bell was 13 years old, and until 2 years ago, when a freak traffic accident injured his mother and left Carson in a wheelchair for the remainder of his life, wanted to be a wrestler. He loved the sport, loved the lingo and the action. He really loves the fact one of the most famous wrestlers on Earth crashes next door for a few days every week. Carson always picked Tony’s brain about the sport, always inquired about the workings in the ring and behind the curtain. Kid could be a great backstage employee someday; he is pretty knowledgeable about the game.
The kid wants to learn, and Tony is more than happy to share what he learned, as he was grilling kiddo a burger on the deck, and some tuna steak for himself.
“There are SO many ways to approach a promo. I mean, the shit I’ve seen over the years on screen…you just never know what truly works. Things I think are wild and stupid sometimes get over when fans see it. Sometimes promos you think are guaranteed fire don’t get the love. It’s never cut and dried what fans will want to see.”
“So, there’s no formula or rule book for it?”
“Not really, but…”
He flips the meat on the grill and gets a burger bun ready for Carson. "There are fundamentals like everything. Can't drop threes in the NBA until you learn how to dribble. Let me give you an example."
"First off, the recap. Since it's been a minute, people might need to catch up. So...'
"For those that don't know, Jacob Koening's punk ass put his suicide note on wax when he jumped me. Bitch didn't double tap me like Zombieland, so now I'm coming back from the dead to eat him alive. Pussy ass shit. Fucker knew he couldn't bomb on me face to face, so I get Pearl Harbored. You know what happened later down the road with those folks, like Koening gonna find out..."
Tony balls his fist and cracks his knuckles: "Fat Man and Little Boy gonna nuke that ass. Koening gonna need to legally change his name to Hiroshima after I run into his ass in the locker. So, there...recap covered. Basic chore like checking air in tires, but it's necessary sometimes. Next..."
He's flipping the peppers and onions and checking the meat. "Now, explaining motivations. People need to know why you stepping in that ring besides i like beating people up for money and free screen time..."
"Well, losing almost 3 months to a bullshit injury, not to mention TWO titles in two companies because of this incident and nearly having my career shortened is good motivation to get back to business. 3 months of sitting on the sideline watching other players you can run circles around eating good while my ass is on the couch in a cervical halo bored off my ass and making my wife worry her ass off...yup...real hot fire under my ass right now. I don't have to tell you of all people, Carson, how frustrating it is watch your plans and your future messed up because some asshole hurt you because they were doing something stupid. You want lettuce with your burger, onions?"
"No tomato, please." Carson shook he head and drank his Baja Blast as he took mental notes.
"Don't blame you; these things are trash. Should have went to another store to pick them up." Tony puts his tuna on a side warmer while he preps Carson's burger and hooks him up with some fries. Anyways..."
"Little secret about real good wrestlers is, we're real restless people. We don't even like waiting in fucking line at the store without crawling out of our skin because we're folks always seeking constant motive. Moving forward is the only speed we know, and when the brakes get hit suddenly it disrupts us. People sit around stewing in frustration, feeling sorry for themselves and finding reasons to grind axes. Nah, not me. All I thought about was what I need to do to heal up, and get back to doing what I do in there night in and night out."
"And what's that, Tony?" Carson asks before he chews on his meal.
"Be awesome every time I step on canvas. Like I've done for years. I know it's not exactly the most intricate and original incentive to fight back from adversity, but sometimes you don't need a chainsaw to get the job done. Just a scalpel. Another tip about wrestlers is they tend to make shit WAAAAAY too complicated."
His meal is done, and he plates it up. He sits across from Carson and starts eating.
"Next part: match and company hype. Gotta get the marks juiced up to tune in. Something along the lines of blah blah blah Monday, blah blah blah Clash in Orlando! Tony Savage returns...yadda yadda yadda...get Paramount Plus now (Paramount LOVES it when you shout them out)!"
"Nothing to do with the fact you rep them in the UK now that Britain gets access to the service?"
"Easy Peasy side quid in the pocket, young padawan!" He cuts a slap of fish and chews on it before continuing. "After that, depending on your moral alignment and willingness to get notice, either shout out or diss the local sports team. I can't really this time; Orlando Magic are too bad to lift up, and knocking them at this point's like fist fighting a toddler. That's just cruel. After that, you can freestyle. Jokes, threats, hype up or drag your adversary, maybe bring in a celebrity to do a skit...shit...it's your world. Make it anyway you want. But in the end, the most FUNDAMENTAL aspect of a promo is to tell the truth. And the truth of the matter in this case for me is I'm facing an opponent this week who chronically does THIS SHIT when it's time to hit the game winner when it really counts."
Tony crushes a Mountain Dew can, and bricks that shot against the rim of his rubbish can intentionally.
"I'd explain in full detail that is a metaphor on how Black and Mild smokes in the ring. Every time since he's been here, he always drops the ball when it truly counts. Odin ate him in the end like candy: John becomes a Sour Patch Kid about it. The guy drops opportunity after opportunity. Grinds hard in the regular season, but can't Steph Curry it in the playoffs. I'd bring up this cat always talking about how things are gonna change, only for history to repeat itself. How he likes to claim he's not a guy you can just roll over, but still gets sped past anyways. How he says he's just one step away from the next level..."
"Then his legs give out and he falls on his face near the finish line. Because that's truth. Months of clinical observation, and that's the diagnosis I'd give to him. Guy's got a problem choking like he needs to hire somebody to constantly give him the Heimlich maneuver. He's not bad in the ring, not a bad dude. But..."
"I'd have to explain what separates men like me from him. How I change and evolve to get the job done, while he does that same 2 step every week on air. How I did in less time in AW what he can only dream to do. Why there's a reason this company is hyping my return to the blue and yellow brand with the same enthusiasm McDonald's does when the McRibb's back on the menu. Or how maybe, just maybe...."
"Remind him while he's being stifled time and time again by anybody with a remotely excellent resume, that Tony Savage is so good, they literally had to send the top guy in the company to break my streak! And if Gerald had a problem putting me down, what's a guy like Black gonna do?"
He finishes his steak, and washes it down with a icy glass of tea. "After that, the finish. Recap, final statement, throw in the catchphrase if you got one. Basic shit. Once you learn the fundamentals of promo, then you can build on it. Throw in the production pizazz, break out the props or whatever. That's the thing about cutting promos; there's always a different way to approach them."
"Like cutting a promo without realizing you just cut a promo, Tony?"
Tony put his cup down and chuckled. Carson had been recording the whole thing on his iPhone the entire time. He passes Carson the fries.
"Kid, it won't be in the ring, but you might have a future in this biz. That was slick. If Black and Mild chokes on his own smoke cloud in that ring on Monday against me, like he tends to around the really good ones...'
"I dunno if I can say the same for him!"
