Post by BLAKE JONES on Oct 5, 2013 11:36:25 GMT -6
February 23rd, 2012
GWA Post-PPV Press Conference
Chicago, Illinois
GWA Post-PPV Press Conference
Chicago, Illinois
The cameras flashed here and there, catching me off guard and causing my eyes to be blinded. I sat in the seat at the left end of the table, the seat to my right empty, though my tag partner should have been occupying it. The tag title I held laid out at the front of the table along with all the other titles. The words of the reporters mixed together as each one of them raised a hand up to ask our boss questions as he stood behind the podium, a big smile on his face. He looked around at every single person out there, deciding who to pick first to ask him any questions.
After a few seconds, the boss pointed to a blonde woman, somewhere in her late 30s. She had a real stern look about her, almost like that strict teacher you used to have in school. She held a notepad in her right hand and wore a black dress suit as she lowered her left hand.
Boss: You.
Woman Reporter: Jessica Chase, Springfield Wrestling Observer. What is the plan after such a great PPV for the next show?
The boss gave her a slight grin before looking over at all the champions, including myself. He then turned his direction back to the female reporter.
Boss: Well, I wanted to save this for a few more days, but I guess there's no greater place than here. At the next show, every single GWA title will be on the line.
Lots of clapping from the reporters and nearby fans. Most of the champions didn't bring their hands together for that announcement, but I did. I always loved a fight and I still do, so that show was a way for me and Blaine to show that we truly deserved those tag titles that we held around our waist.
Boss: The tag team champions, the Wild Things, will face former tag champions, the Outlaws!
I clapped once more. That was exactly the match I wanted at the time, knowing that the Outlaws wouldn't stop bitching and moaning until we truly gave them that title shot. Knowing that they would continue to call us paper champions, because we never truly defeated them. That we were nothing more than contenders and pretenders. Facing the Outlaws and beating them would solidify our names as champions.
A couple of hands rise up from the audience and the boss points to a nearby Caucasian man with a mustache similar to Luigi's from Super Smash Bros. The man holds no notepad and has no tape recorder. He is also wearing a grey suit with a white dress shirt and a silver tie.
Boss: Yes, you?
Male Reporter: Um, I have a few questions for one half of the tag team champions, Blake Jones.
The fact that someone had a question for me caught me completely by surprise. I nodded my head before leaning forward and speaking to the microphone set up in front of me.
Blake Jones: Shoot.
Male Reporter: I can't help but notice that your tag team partner is not here right now. Do you know why?
At the time, I didn't. I had called Blaine early in the morning and told him to come to the press conference early, but he never picked up the phone. So, I then called him an hour before the press conference, but got the same thing all over again. My call went straight to voice mail, where I left him one with a bit of an urgent tone behind it. Finally, five minutes until the press conference, I called him once more, this time leaving an angrier message as I was absolutely ticked.
And there I was, by myself, with my tag partner seeming to have fallen off of the face of the earth. There I was, having to answer for his absence like I was his damn babysitter.
Blake Jones: I have no clue where my tag partner and fellow champion is, bud. He's probably out there still partying about the title victory and all. He is the "Wild" and I am the "Thing".
I laughed, accompanied by many other laughs from the reporters and nearby fans. I scratched the back of my head as I leaned back in my seat, hoping that the answer would be good enough to go to the next question and avoid the awkwardness. I looked at the male reporter who asked me the question and he shrugged his shoulders as he looked back over at me, waiting for the others to quiet down so he could ask his next question.
Male Reporter: Okay. How do you feel about this latest match and your first defense of the tag titles against the Outlaws?
I sighed as I leaned forward once more, speaking right into the mic while keeping my eye contact with the male reporter. This answer would have been better if Blaine had been there, but he wasn't. I was.
Blake Jones: I look forward to the match and the chance to kick both Outlaws in their faces. I look forward to proving them wrong and showing them that the Wild Things can be a solid team and can be tag team champions for a long, long time. Consider this a match that helps the Wild Things prove themselves as your new GWA tag team champions.
I remember that there were a couple of clapping hands and even a few cheers from the fans as I leaned back up against my seat once more, the back of my green GWA t-shirt making a weird noise as I did so. A couple of other reporters wrote down my last answer as I watched the male reporter look at the others once more before looking back at me. The camera behind him is running and seems to be one of his co-workers.
Male Reporter: Final question. Any people on the roster you want to face sometime in the near future?
Blake Jones: Nope. I don't care who I face. I'll bring the fight to them and if they win, they win. Would I like to face some people more than others? Sure. But, I am a professional. I face whoever I am told to face and I do it with pleasure.
My cellphone in my right pocket began to ring as I quickly reached for it and pulled it out. I looked out at the fans and reporters before looking at the caller ID. I did not recognize the number, but I looked back over at the people in attendance, nodding my head as I got up from my seat.
Blake Jones: Sorry. Have to take this call. My apologies, folks.
I quickly left the table and walked far away enough to where I could pick up the phone and have no one else hear what the other person on the other line would say to me. When I accepted the call, I did not expect the other voice on the other line at all.
Blaine: Blake, you have to help me...
Blake Jones: Blaine? Where the hell have you been? I've been calling you-
Blaine: I haven't had my phone with me for hours now. Blake, something bad happened last night. I need you to go talk to our boss.
I looked behind me and saw our boss standing behind the podium, a smile on his face. I was so confused, not understanding the tone behind Blaine's voice.
Blake Jones: Blaine, what the hell happened? Talk to me.
The next answer I would have never expected in my life.
Blaine: I-I-I killed a guy.
Blake Jones: You what?!
Blaine: I hit a construction worker. I was drunk as hell, dude. I'm so screwed right now!
I sighed, wanting to throw my phone at the nearest wall here in the ballroom we were holding our conference in. I was just so angry with what stupid shit my partner had pulled.
Blake Jones: Alright. Calm the hell down. I'll try and go talk to the boss and see what we can do. Okay? Just breathe and keep yourself calm. No point in worrying about things when you can;t do anything.
Blaine: Alright, thanks.
I quickly ended the call before shutting the screen of my phone off and slipping it back into my pocket. I sighed once more before turning around and heading back into the room where we were holding the press conference, knowing that I was probably about to make a boneheaded mistake and interrupt my boss and this entire thing, even though I have good reason to.
I take a deep breath before entering the room, some of the eyes in the room immediately focusing on me, including my boss's. Whatever question was being asked or answered has been stopped as I make my way towards my boss, focusing only on him as I hear murmurs and whispers from the people in attendance. My boss looked at me with curiosity as I walked up to him and lowered my voice to a whisper.
Blake Jones: Um, I find out where Blaine is...and you're not going to like it.
The boss's head tilted slightly as he raised his left eyebrow up in curiosity, many things going throughout his mind.
Boss: What are you talking about? Where is he?
Blake Jones: Considering he ran over a construction worker last night while driving drunk, I'm going to assume...
I looked over at the audience once more before looking back over at my boss, who seemed to be very annoyed with the latest news.
Blake Jones: ...prison.
Boss: SON OF A BITCH!
The boss quickly looked over at the fans and reporters, trying to regain his composure as he flashed them a smile.
Boss: Unfortunately, we will have to be cutting this press conference short. I apologize for the inconvenience, folks.
As the reporters and fans began to get out of their seats, grumbling and whispering with one another. My boss turned to me once more, releasing a sigh.
Boss: Blake, I'm sorry.
Blake Jones: What? Why?
The boss pointed over to my seat at the table. No, he was pointing at the tag title in front of it. As soon as I knew what he meant, I turned to him and shook my head. I couldn't believe it. So many months of working my ass off and this is how it was supposed to end? This was not fair.
Boss: I have to vacate the tag titles, Blake. I'm sorry.
Months of work and it came down to the tag titles being vacated and it wasn't my fault. How many more times were my partners going to let me down? How many more times would I put my trust in the wrong person?
After a few seconds, the boss pointed to a blonde woman, somewhere in her late 30s. She had a real stern look about her, almost like that strict teacher you used to have in school. She held a notepad in her right hand and wore a black dress suit as she lowered her left hand.
Boss: You.
Woman Reporter: Jessica Chase, Springfield Wrestling Observer. What is the plan after such a great PPV for the next show?
The boss gave her a slight grin before looking over at all the champions, including myself. He then turned his direction back to the female reporter.
Boss: Well, I wanted to save this for a few more days, but I guess there's no greater place than here. At the next show, every single GWA title will be on the line.
Lots of clapping from the reporters and nearby fans. Most of the champions didn't bring their hands together for that announcement, but I did. I always loved a fight and I still do, so that show was a way for me and Blaine to show that we truly deserved those tag titles that we held around our waist.
Boss: The tag team champions, the Wild Things, will face former tag champions, the Outlaws!
I clapped once more. That was exactly the match I wanted at the time, knowing that the Outlaws wouldn't stop bitching and moaning until we truly gave them that title shot. Knowing that they would continue to call us paper champions, because we never truly defeated them. That we were nothing more than contenders and pretenders. Facing the Outlaws and beating them would solidify our names as champions.
A couple of hands rise up from the audience and the boss points to a nearby Caucasian man with a mustache similar to Luigi's from Super Smash Bros. The man holds no notepad and has no tape recorder. He is also wearing a grey suit with a white dress shirt and a silver tie.
Boss: Yes, you?
Male Reporter: Um, I have a few questions for one half of the tag team champions, Blake Jones.
The fact that someone had a question for me caught me completely by surprise. I nodded my head before leaning forward and speaking to the microphone set up in front of me.
Blake Jones: Shoot.
Male Reporter: I can't help but notice that your tag team partner is not here right now. Do you know why?
At the time, I didn't. I had called Blaine early in the morning and told him to come to the press conference early, but he never picked up the phone. So, I then called him an hour before the press conference, but got the same thing all over again. My call went straight to voice mail, where I left him one with a bit of an urgent tone behind it. Finally, five minutes until the press conference, I called him once more, this time leaving an angrier message as I was absolutely ticked.
And there I was, by myself, with my tag partner seeming to have fallen off of the face of the earth. There I was, having to answer for his absence like I was his damn babysitter.
Blake Jones: I have no clue where my tag partner and fellow champion is, bud. He's probably out there still partying about the title victory and all. He is the "Wild" and I am the "Thing".
I laughed, accompanied by many other laughs from the reporters and nearby fans. I scratched the back of my head as I leaned back in my seat, hoping that the answer would be good enough to go to the next question and avoid the awkwardness. I looked at the male reporter who asked me the question and he shrugged his shoulders as he looked back over at me, waiting for the others to quiet down so he could ask his next question.
Male Reporter: Okay. How do you feel about this latest match and your first defense of the tag titles against the Outlaws?
I sighed as I leaned forward once more, speaking right into the mic while keeping my eye contact with the male reporter. This answer would have been better if Blaine had been there, but he wasn't. I was.
Blake Jones: I look forward to the match and the chance to kick both Outlaws in their faces. I look forward to proving them wrong and showing them that the Wild Things can be a solid team and can be tag team champions for a long, long time. Consider this a match that helps the Wild Things prove themselves as your new GWA tag team champions.
I remember that there were a couple of clapping hands and even a few cheers from the fans as I leaned back up against my seat once more, the back of my green GWA t-shirt making a weird noise as I did so. A couple of other reporters wrote down my last answer as I watched the male reporter look at the others once more before looking back at me. The camera behind him is running and seems to be one of his co-workers.
Male Reporter: Final question. Any people on the roster you want to face sometime in the near future?
Blake Jones: Nope. I don't care who I face. I'll bring the fight to them and if they win, they win. Would I like to face some people more than others? Sure. But, I am a professional. I face whoever I am told to face and I do it with pleasure.
My cellphone in my right pocket began to ring as I quickly reached for it and pulled it out. I looked out at the fans and reporters before looking at the caller ID. I did not recognize the number, but I looked back over at the people in attendance, nodding my head as I got up from my seat.
Blake Jones: Sorry. Have to take this call. My apologies, folks.
I quickly left the table and walked far away enough to where I could pick up the phone and have no one else hear what the other person on the other line would say to me. When I accepted the call, I did not expect the other voice on the other line at all.
Blaine: Blake, you have to help me...
Blake Jones: Blaine? Where the hell have you been? I've been calling you-
Blaine: I haven't had my phone with me for hours now. Blake, something bad happened last night. I need you to go talk to our boss.
I looked behind me and saw our boss standing behind the podium, a smile on his face. I was so confused, not understanding the tone behind Blaine's voice.
Blake Jones: Blaine, what the hell happened? Talk to me.
The next answer I would have never expected in my life.
Blaine: I-I-I killed a guy.
Blake Jones: You what?!
Blaine: I hit a construction worker. I was drunk as hell, dude. I'm so screwed right now!
I sighed, wanting to throw my phone at the nearest wall here in the ballroom we were holding our conference in. I was just so angry with what stupid shit my partner had pulled.
Blake Jones: Alright. Calm the hell down. I'll try and go talk to the boss and see what we can do. Okay? Just breathe and keep yourself calm. No point in worrying about things when you can;t do anything.
Blaine: Alright, thanks.
I quickly ended the call before shutting the screen of my phone off and slipping it back into my pocket. I sighed once more before turning around and heading back into the room where we were holding the press conference, knowing that I was probably about to make a boneheaded mistake and interrupt my boss and this entire thing, even though I have good reason to.
I take a deep breath before entering the room, some of the eyes in the room immediately focusing on me, including my boss's. Whatever question was being asked or answered has been stopped as I make my way towards my boss, focusing only on him as I hear murmurs and whispers from the people in attendance. My boss looked at me with curiosity as I walked up to him and lowered my voice to a whisper.
Blake Jones: Um, I find out where Blaine is...and you're not going to like it.
The boss's head tilted slightly as he raised his left eyebrow up in curiosity, many things going throughout his mind.
Boss: What are you talking about? Where is he?
Blake Jones: Considering he ran over a construction worker last night while driving drunk, I'm going to assume...
I looked over at the audience once more before looking back over at my boss, who seemed to be very annoyed with the latest news.
Blake Jones: ...prison.
Boss: SON OF A BITCH!
The boss quickly looked over at the fans and reporters, trying to regain his composure as he flashed them a smile.
Boss: Unfortunately, we will have to be cutting this press conference short. I apologize for the inconvenience, folks.
As the reporters and fans began to get out of their seats, grumbling and whispering with one another. My boss turned to me once more, releasing a sigh.
Boss: Blake, I'm sorry.
Blake Jones: What? Why?
The boss pointed over to my seat at the table. No, he was pointing at the tag title in front of it. As soon as I knew what he meant, I turned to him and shook my head. I couldn't believe it. So many months of working my ass off and this is how it was supposed to end? This was not fair.
Boss: I have to vacate the tag titles, Blake. I'm sorry.
Months of work and it came down to the tag titles being vacated and it wasn't my fault. How many more times were my partners going to let me down? How many more times would I put my trust in the wrong person?