Post by freak on Oct 5, 2010 14:55:42 GMT -6
Jack Clinton has since returned from San Antonio and is at a hotel somewhere in Fort Worth.
Isn't it amazing the levels some people will stoop to just to try and get you away from your focus? I'm sure you all saw what Robert Ravencroft tried to pull- coming into my dressing room trying to make himself look all big and bad. Remember how I said he was annoying? There was the reason why. He's like a little kid...barging into places he doesn't need to be barging into, running around like a moron, talking a big game he doesn't need to be talking, thinking that just because history dictates things to be a certain way it automatically means that said certain way applies to me. Well, nothing could be further from the truth, and ol' Robbie Raven doesn't seem to understand that.
You talk about being the #1 contender, but you aren't. I don't recognize you as the number one contender. I recognize you as a guy that I'd fight on Onslaught just to get a title defense in. I recognize you as the Big Boss Man to my Big Show at Armageddon 1999. It's irrelevant to me. It's like Goldberg wrestling Barry Darsow on WCW Saturday Night when he was the WCW World Heavyweight Champion. The only difference is that Myke Rhines doesn't know enough about the business to realize that this isn't the kind of match that you put on to headline a pay-per-view. But then again, it'll be just a higher profile embarrassment for you when I win...so maybe it isn't that bad after all.
You keep concerning yourself with what Versus Vince is going to do in the match. Versus Vince is going to be there for one reason and one reason only...I need a cornerman and he's one of the few people left in this company that hasn't turned their back on me for no reason or completely forgotten what I've done for them. You're not facing Versus Vince. You're facing Jack Clinton. The Texas Heavyweight Champion and perhaps the best damn Texas Heavyweight Champion of all time. You don't need to concern yourself with anything except that.
As far as your being worried over what's happened to Vince's friends, let me let you in on a little secret. In the entirety of my wrestling career, I've been in the ring with bigger, badder, and better than you. I've wrestled inside cages, prison cells, in parking lots, almost anything you can think of. I've been set on fire, nearly had both my eyes gouged out, broke more bones than I would ever care to admit, have had more than a few undocumented concussions, left more blood in rings than a blood bank gets in donations every year, and have nearly lost my life at least twice...and you know what happened? I was right back in it the next time out. You see, I told you this earlier, Robbie. I'm not the same kind of person you've been wrestling. In fact, I'm a threat to your well being that you need to start taking a lot more seriously than you already are.
Now, as far as being focused is concerned, you make it seem like there's nothing keeping you from becoming Texas champ. Yet all I see is a mention or two from you about the match and the rest of the time dressing down your sister and her boyfriend. I mean, come on. This is what a so-called number one contender does? When I was first contending for the Texas Heavyweight Championship I left my focus on the man I was facing for the title. No outside distractions, no family drama. One thing mattered and one thing only. It's a concept that, unfortunately, I don't think you're able to grasp right now. You're too busy calling your sister a pig and threatening her boyfriend with eviction from your house- which I can't imagine existing in a livable condition- to worry about the Texas Championship. And that's okay. That's just fine with me.
You know why, Robert? Because it just proves that you're never going to get ahead in life. You're gonna be the same old broken down guy who never got ahead because he didn't think far ahead enough. Everyone will have either left or disowned you and you'll be forced to roam the streets bumming it, looking for places to stay. It'll be like the song "Like A Rolling Stone", only this time the fall from grace will be swifter, harsher, and harder than anyone could possibly imagine. I know you're just gonna deny those facts and write me off as another jealous person trying to block you from getting what you believe is rightfully yours...even though the truth is that you only fail due to your own actions.
Your mind is in a million different places this week. Mine is on a single track...keep my title by whatever means necessary. You go ahead and keep thinking about all that other crap that has nothing to do with the match. Keep on worrying about potential screwups. You're obviously stuck on that and I don't think there's any way that you'll get off of it in time. Keep on worrying about what's in my corner, even though it's of little concern to you. Keep on worrying about what you think gives you any sort of advantage against a 7 foot, 355 pound, carved from stone, hard as steel, freak of human nature. Let your brain wander to whatever places you want it to.
It's not going to change anything. When we get in that ring, you become Apollo Creed to my Ivan Drago. It's gonna be quick, painful, and brutal. I'm going to beat you to within an inch of your worthless life, and it's going to be such a disgusting scene that your sister, who you claim loves you and respects you so much, is going to have no choice but to throw in that towel...and maybe I won't even stop then. Maybe I'll just keep right on beating you. Or I may show you just a little bit of mercy.
If I were you, I'd hope that I did...I'd hate to see your first shot at the Texas Heavyweight Championship come on the same night you have to retire due to the injuries you suffer and then join the likes of the Switch Stallions and Lucky Kage, your so-called trophies.
FTB.
Isn't it amazing the levels some people will stoop to just to try and get you away from your focus? I'm sure you all saw what Robert Ravencroft tried to pull- coming into my dressing room trying to make himself look all big and bad. Remember how I said he was annoying? There was the reason why. He's like a little kid...barging into places he doesn't need to be barging into, running around like a moron, talking a big game he doesn't need to be talking, thinking that just because history dictates things to be a certain way it automatically means that said certain way applies to me. Well, nothing could be further from the truth, and ol' Robbie Raven doesn't seem to understand that.
You talk about being the #1 contender, but you aren't. I don't recognize you as the number one contender. I recognize you as a guy that I'd fight on Onslaught just to get a title defense in. I recognize you as the Big Boss Man to my Big Show at Armageddon 1999. It's irrelevant to me. It's like Goldberg wrestling Barry Darsow on WCW Saturday Night when he was the WCW World Heavyweight Champion. The only difference is that Myke Rhines doesn't know enough about the business to realize that this isn't the kind of match that you put on to headline a pay-per-view. But then again, it'll be just a higher profile embarrassment for you when I win...so maybe it isn't that bad after all.
You keep concerning yourself with what Versus Vince is going to do in the match. Versus Vince is going to be there for one reason and one reason only...I need a cornerman and he's one of the few people left in this company that hasn't turned their back on me for no reason or completely forgotten what I've done for them. You're not facing Versus Vince. You're facing Jack Clinton. The Texas Heavyweight Champion and perhaps the best damn Texas Heavyweight Champion of all time. You don't need to concern yourself with anything except that.
As far as your being worried over what's happened to Vince's friends, let me let you in on a little secret. In the entirety of my wrestling career, I've been in the ring with bigger, badder, and better than you. I've wrestled inside cages, prison cells, in parking lots, almost anything you can think of. I've been set on fire, nearly had both my eyes gouged out, broke more bones than I would ever care to admit, have had more than a few undocumented concussions, left more blood in rings than a blood bank gets in donations every year, and have nearly lost my life at least twice...and you know what happened? I was right back in it the next time out. You see, I told you this earlier, Robbie. I'm not the same kind of person you've been wrestling. In fact, I'm a threat to your well being that you need to start taking a lot more seriously than you already are.
Now, as far as being focused is concerned, you make it seem like there's nothing keeping you from becoming Texas champ. Yet all I see is a mention or two from you about the match and the rest of the time dressing down your sister and her boyfriend. I mean, come on. This is what a so-called number one contender does? When I was first contending for the Texas Heavyweight Championship I left my focus on the man I was facing for the title. No outside distractions, no family drama. One thing mattered and one thing only. It's a concept that, unfortunately, I don't think you're able to grasp right now. You're too busy calling your sister a pig and threatening her boyfriend with eviction from your house- which I can't imagine existing in a livable condition- to worry about the Texas Championship. And that's okay. That's just fine with me.
You know why, Robert? Because it just proves that you're never going to get ahead in life. You're gonna be the same old broken down guy who never got ahead because he didn't think far ahead enough. Everyone will have either left or disowned you and you'll be forced to roam the streets bumming it, looking for places to stay. It'll be like the song "Like A Rolling Stone", only this time the fall from grace will be swifter, harsher, and harder than anyone could possibly imagine. I know you're just gonna deny those facts and write me off as another jealous person trying to block you from getting what you believe is rightfully yours...even though the truth is that you only fail due to your own actions.
Your mind is in a million different places this week. Mine is on a single track...keep my title by whatever means necessary. You go ahead and keep thinking about all that other crap that has nothing to do with the match. Keep on worrying about potential screwups. You're obviously stuck on that and I don't think there's any way that you'll get off of it in time. Keep on worrying about what's in my corner, even though it's of little concern to you. Keep on worrying about what you think gives you any sort of advantage against a 7 foot, 355 pound, carved from stone, hard as steel, freak of human nature. Let your brain wander to whatever places you want it to.
It's not going to change anything. When we get in that ring, you become Apollo Creed to my Ivan Drago. It's gonna be quick, painful, and brutal. I'm going to beat you to within an inch of your worthless life, and it's going to be such a disgusting scene that your sister, who you claim loves you and respects you so much, is going to have no choice but to throw in that towel...and maybe I won't even stop then. Maybe I'll just keep right on beating you. Or I may show you just a little bit of mercy.
If I were you, I'd hope that I did...I'd hate to see your first shot at the Texas Heavyweight Championship come on the same night you have to retire due to the injuries you suffer and then join the likes of the Switch Stallions and Lucky Kage, your so-called trophies.
FTB.
