Post by Anwaar Saad on Jun 18, 2015 12:04:58 GMT -6
The Difference
I inhaled the great ball of cancerous chemicals, before breathing out as it dispersed into the maelstrom of abyssal blackness. Or, in short, I smoked a fag in a run down street in Tijuana, watching the occasional cars go past. You know what the difference between those two sentences were? Let's go into it for just a moment. You got professional wrestling, then you've got the extremely extensive collection of both ancient teachings and modern adaptations all mixed into one in the world of mixed martial arts. Both sports have a variety of different styles and teachings, but one thing will always be different. Why wrestling loses legitimacy but gains increasing mainstream attention. In mixed martial arts, there is only one way to go about it, one mentality.
I... am going to beat the ever-living shit out of you.
No fancy flips, no pointless 'hyping up of the crowd', none of what I said in that first sentence of making things seem more than they actually are. In wrestling, you have to feed off the crowd to win, you have to be exciting. You are collectively working together to put on the most intriguing fight of your lives, drawing in the audiences. Opposed to the crowd paying to see you and them getting whatever the hell they are going to get, you have to make sure they go home and think "Man, those to fought each other to the very end, that was fun to watch!" This is where the former 'Lion Cub', 'Young Lion', 'Prince of the Jungle', became the fully fledged and grown King of the Jungle and longest-reigning, undisputed Middleweight and Light Heavyweight champion of the giants of eastern MMA, ALPHA-1, by 'beating the ever-living shit out of you' and still making it entertaining. So, that is why you should pay attention to the arrival of Anwar Saad, because I have skills that no one here can match. However...
"By the way, you're in the opening match of the night against a dude called Craig "The Hammer" Hannigan."
I spluttered as I heard this voice on the other side of the phone line, inadvertently insult me, coughing on my own smoke before throwing it on the ground and crushing it with the heel of my shoe. WHAT?! How could this pathetic camel-herder place me on the- Oh, I forgot to actually say what I was thinking. Ah-hem...
"WHAT?! How could this pathetic camel-herder-"
"Look, I can see why you're upset, but at least you have easy pickings, right? This guy is an absolute nobody and if I am mistaken and he's a somebody, he's one of the least liked people on the roster! Plus, he's a bit scrappy and has little to put you away with if you stick with the team at your gym's game plan. Trust me on this, don't bail out and you'll be ready in no time for the main roster."
"But on the opening match?" I groan through clenched teeth, making a scene of my obvious disgust. "That is a insult, a blatant one at that."
"You know that this wasn't an insult. I hate to break it to you but this inflated... ego of yours..."
"What was that?"
"It doesn't matter, all I'm saying is you need to see through and realise that he is placing you at the beginning of the card as an attraction to the event. Plus it is an obvious spot for a debut-ee, to test your mettle and see how you handle a crowd of hundreds that are eager to see some action."
"They want action? I'll show them action. You're going to see the most bloody and brutal display of action you'll ever see inside a squared ring. The distinct white canvas that inhabits it will run red with the blood of the so called hammer... of whom I will swap roles with. My fist will be the hammer and he will be my nail, with the floor being what I'm nailing him to."
"...sounds great. Whatever you do, don't fuck it up. This is your big break."
"His skull will be a big break."
"Yes, fantastic, good, you do whatever you want as long as you and I make some money. Ciao."
He hung up. Who the fuck says 'ciao' anyway? Typical camp, rich and white guys do. I thought this to myself as I gazed across the desolate street I was standing on, where there wasn't much to describe apart from it was practically empty, save for a few groups on the other side of the road who I eyed wearily and cautiously. If they tried shit, I was ready.
But unfortunately, my excitement was short lived as they swiftly moved on... this is getting kinda boring. OH! Yes, our dear friend Craig. What is there to be said about Craig? The fact I'm struggling to think of things to say just proves how irrelevant you are to my situation, considering I'll dominate you and leave, most likely never interacting with you again. You look like you're gonna spend your life having one epiphany after another, if you can call it that, always thinking you've finally figured out what's holding you back and how you can finally be productive and creative, to turn you wrestling career and life around. Got some fucking news for you buddy - nothing will ever change. The cycle of mediocrity isn't due to some imaginary obstacle. It's Craig Hannigan. The thing standing in the way of your dreams is that the person having them is you. A pathetic excuse for a human being.
Best part is. You won't escape it. You'll keep falling victim to others, including the man speaking to you right now, Anwar Saad. It's an unfortunate way of life I'm afraid. Some people are born... no, scratch that. I was born out of nothing in a cot of shit and thorn, scratch and clawed my way to the top and I earned it. You haven't evolved and have placed yourself in that cot of shit and thorn with no way out. Such a shame eh? Such a shame...
That is the difference between you and me.