Post by Spencer Adams on Mar 10, 2021 22:31:51 GMT -5
Little more than a month ago, I took this championship off the waist of a man who towered over me and whose very mission statement as its holder was to assert dominance with that size and complete lack of mercy. Matthias was someone who was supposed to define the division he lorded over for the foreseeable future. His mistake was looking at Spencer Adams and deciding that was his target. Week after week, attack after attack..Matty Mintzel tried his damndest to beat me out of this profession. In one night, I sent Mintzel packing. I beat a supposed face of hardcore out of the division. In doing so, I took everything that was his and made it mine.
You know, it’s kinda crazy that this match is just now happening. You’ve been with this company for nearly as long as I have and at this point, you’re really one of the only originals on the roster. The people in that locker room and those in the stands, they look at you as a staple of Action Wrestling. Yet, all this time and we’ve...never really crossed paths, have we? I’ve been able to square off with just about everyone who walks through those doors and I mean, hell..I’ve dunked TFK’s head in the toilet about a half dozen times. Sure, we’ve seen each other around and faced off in a rumble or two, but Claire Hawkins versus Spencer Adams is a first for us.
Have you stopped and thought about why that is though? Everything happens for a reason, right? We aren’t just here by the drop of a couple of Bingo balls. So, what is it? Is it because the booking team was keeping this one in the backpocket for when they wanted to sell out a random Clash in fucking Meridian, Mississippi or is it because they were keeping someone’s best interest in mind for the better part of three years? Surely the distance put between us hasn’t been to benefit me.
Ms. Hawkins, let’s call it what it is. One of us is a future hall of famer, a multi-time holder of anything that shines or holds value in this company, and the undisputed biggest name on the roster. The other..well, it’s Claire Hawkins. I win big matches and I win a hell of a lot of them. You do not. I hold victories over multiple current hall of famers who I’ve since surpassed in accomplishments and tenure...you do not. I step up to the big threats and I stand ground until they either back down or see themselves out of that locker room for good..you do NOT.
See, you’re not just lacking in overall accomplishment relative to the amount of time that you’ve spent lacing them up for Action Wrestling, you’re lacking in skin that’s calloused. You are, by all accounts, a fairweather fighter and that is exactly what everyone at that roundtable treats you as when they add your name to a weekly lineup. They see the on-again, off-again tendencies you have with working for extended stretches of time and they usually make the right choice, to keep you in hour one where you can look cool and valuable against Bam Beefer or current day Jayson Price.
You haven’t appeared across a ring from Spencer Adams, because I’m overwhelming for people who have what it takes to hang and downright paralyzing for those who don’t. You can’t handle the demand that comes with residency underneath the bright lights, so you gather some twigs and you gather some dead grass and you make your little nest in a spot where even the slightest glow is blocked out. In those curtain jerker adjacent matches, you stay protected by the branches that rest above you. You can get in front of the camera and flex your poker face, but ultimately, you and everybody else understands that you require security.
What made them change their minds, I don’t know. Perhaps a slip in better judgement, because this sure as shit isn’t anywhere in the range of tossing somebody a bone. What I do know is that you are the queen of niche who lives in a cardboard castle where you are served enough winnable matches to keep you in fifty fifty territory so that when the time comes to meet the quota of feeding you to a fast rising TV champion once a month, it seems justified to do so. In that spot, your stardom neither freezes nor boils and you just stay lukewarm.
You remain there, because every trait you possess is represented by someone else with more talent and intrigue that is already doing just fine in those higher branches. There are women more talented, edgelords whose vague ramblings hold better attention, and incoming talent that manages to make bigger statements in months or even weeks than you ever have. This is a loud sport full of loud personalities and you are the church mouse that spends most of its days going unnoticed as it moves around.
The TV title division is where we’ve seen you put your blood, sweat, and tears into beating transitional champions and rookies prone to growing pains, because you can hit little more than a softball pitch. Here? In the main event against Spencer Adams? You aren’t just a fish out of water, they may as well have taken you straight from the bowl and dropped you off in the middle of the desert. In winning this belt, I redefined a division. I changed the very definition of hardcore. This now means longevity and it’s going to stay that way. There is no extended stay up here for you, only Claire Hawkins going in and out the front door like Grampa Simpson. You try to open this book, I slam it shut. There is no room for optimism, because this is where reality smacks you square in the fucking face. My advice? Pray for a better tomorrow.
You know, it’s kinda crazy that this match is just now happening. You’ve been with this company for nearly as long as I have and at this point, you’re really one of the only originals on the roster. The people in that locker room and those in the stands, they look at you as a staple of Action Wrestling. Yet, all this time and we’ve...never really crossed paths, have we? I’ve been able to square off with just about everyone who walks through those doors and I mean, hell..I’ve dunked TFK’s head in the toilet about a half dozen times. Sure, we’ve seen each other around and faced off in a rumble or two, but Claire Hawkins versus Spencer Adams is a first for us.
Have you stopped and thought about why that is though? Everything happens for a reason, right? We aren’t just here by the drop of a couple of Bingo balls. So, what is it? Is it because the booking team was keeping this one in the backpocket for when they wanted to sell out a random Clash in fucking Meridian, Mississippi or is it because they were keeping someone’s best interest in mind for the better part of three years? Surely the distance put between us hasn’t been to benefit me.
Ms. Hawkins, let’s call it what it is. One of us is a future hall of famer, a multi-time holder of anything that shines or holds value in this company, and the undisputed biggest name on the roster. The other..well, it’s Claire Hawkins. I win big matches and I win a hell of a lot of them. You do not. I hold victories over multiple current hall of famers who I’ve since surpassed in accomplishments and tenure...you do not. I step up to the big threats and I stand ground until they either back down or see themselves out of that locker room for good..you do NOT.
See, you’re not just lacking in overall accomplishment relative to the amount of time that you’ve spent lacing them up for Action Wrestling, you’re lacking in skin that’s calloused. You are, by all accounts, a fairweather fighter and that is exactly what everyone at that roundtable treats you as when they add your name to a weekly lineup. They see the on-again, off-again tendencies you have with working for extended stretches of time and they usually make the right choice, to keep you in hour one where you can look cool and valuable against Bam Beefer or current day Jayson Price.
You haven’t appeared across a ring from Spencer Adams, because I’m overwhelming for people who have what it takes to hang and downright paralyzing for those who don’t. You can’t handle the demand that comes with residency underneath the bright lights, so you gather some twigs and you gather some dead grass and you make your little nest in a spot where even the slightest glow is blocked out. In those curtain jerker adjacent matches, you stay protected by the branches that rest above you. You can get in front of the camera and flex your poker face, but ultimately, you and everybody else understands that you require security.
What made them change their minds, I don’t know. Perhaps a slip in better judgement, because this sure as shit isn’t anywhere in the range of tossing somebody a bone. What I do know is that you are the queen of niche who lives in a cardboard castle where you are served enough winnable matches to keep you in fifty fifty territory so that when the time comes to meet the quota of feeding you to a fast rising TV champion once a month, it seems justified to do so. In that spot, your stardom neither freezes nor boils and you just stay lukewarm.
You remain there, because every trait you possess is represented by someone else with more talent and intrigue that is already doing just fine in those higher branches. There are women more talented, edgelords whose vague ramblings hold better attention, and incoming talent that manages to make bigger statements in months or even weeks than you ever have. This is a loud sport full of loud personalities and you are the church mouse that spends most of its days going unnoticed as it moves around.
The TV title division is where we’ve seen you put your blood, sweat, and tears into beating transitional champions and rookies prone to growing pains, because you can hit little more than a softball pitch. Here? In the main event against Spencer Adams? You aren’t just a fish out of water, they may as well have taken you straight from the bowl and dropped you off in the middle of the desert. In winning this belt, I redefined a division. I changed the very definition of hardcore. This now means longevity and it’s going to stay that way. There is no extended stay up here for you, only Claire Hawkins going in and out the front door like Grampa Simpson. You try to open this book, I slam it shut. There is no room for optimism, because this is where reality smacks you square in the fucking face. My advice? Pray for a better tomorrow.
