5/4/2012: You showed me something, GEKIDO. You really showed me something in Chicago Ridge. I'm not talking about what you did to Tianlong, who, thanks to you, will go down as the shortest-lived Wrestle Factory grad of all time. That young man's entire wrestling career lasted 65 seconds because of you. No, you showed me something else entirely.
You want to sully our name? You've got some secrets you want to expose? You want the world to know something? Me too.
Three of you are Jose and the two Franks. You're wash-outs. Quitters. Rather than tough it out, show some heart, and stick things through, just before your pro debuts you threw in the towel and vanished into the ether. Did you complete your training somewhere else? Or maybe you couldn't hack that either and you quit again. Took the easy road...which is exactly what you're doing now.
While I haven't figured out who you other two are, I do know the Franks and Jose. Well enough to spot the way you still dip your shoulder blade into an arm drag, Jose. How many hours were spent at my Wrestle Factory trying to correct your sloppy technique? Here we are, all these years later, and I guess you still haven't been bothered to clean up your game. Never thought I'd see that in a CHIKARA ring.
But of course, that is exactly the point. You don't belong in a CHIKARA ring. You haven't earned it. The Colony, Jigsaw, Eddie Kingston, Hallowicked...the list of people that have earned it goes on and on. They had the heart. They made the committment. They made the sacrifices. Not you three, and I'm betting the same is true of you other two losers as well. Birds of a feather, they say.
If pro-wrestling was easy, everyone would do it. But it's not. It takes time. It takes hard work. It takes persistence. It takes passion. And if you don't have, can't muster, or otherwise fail to invent those things then simply put you don't have what it takes to be a professional wrestler. You certainly don't have what it takes to graduate from my Wrestle Factory. And you don't deserve to take up one pixel of space on the CHIKARA roster page either.
You failures think because you write some blogs, send some tweets, post a few videos and then try to politic your way to what everyone else scraped and sweated for that somehow that's just OK? Why do you get a pass? Because Derek Sabato likes the cut of your jib? Because Wink Vavasseur is a softie for a sob story?
Well pin your ears back you wash-outs, and listen well. The CHIKARAverse is populated by men and women who give their all not just when the lights are shining brightly upon them and the world is paying attention. They give their all at every practice, on every road trip, in every sparring session, and at every live event in any way the day demands. They don't whine and complain and cry about it on Twitter or on message forums. They don't find some back door to sneak through so as to circumvent the right way of doing things. No, they are made of sterner stuff than that. They respect the way things are done. Each and everyone of them. And just seeing your pictures alongside theirs on the roster page has my stomach doing moonsaults.
I take immense pride in my proteges, the men and women I have trained these last 10+ years. And your presence here makes a mockery of that. The notoriety we enjoy today, the global fan-following...we didn't always have that. Certainly not when I last saw the likes of you, GEKIDO. Things were tough in the early days. We barely survived month to month. You walked away.
But look at CHIKARA now. No wonder you're jealous. No wonder you're filled with spite. Because if you had the guts, if you had the heart, if you had the cojones to stick it out, maybe it would have been you atop Mount CHIKARA. But I doubt it.
You ask Eddie Kingston. Our Grand Champion. The man atop the mountain. Ask him about the painfully hot nights spent on the canvas tied in knots at the Wrestle Factory. I've seen him scream in agony. You know why? Because I'm the one that made him scream. And someone cut from a different cloth might look back at something like that and call it abuse. They might call it inhuman. The tests he endured. The things I put him through. You ask Eddie Kingston. Ask him if he regrets a moment of it. Ask him if he went home and cried to his friends about how hard, how challenging, how taxing it was to become a professional wrestler. You ask him and you know what?
He'll look at that golden belt of his. And he'll get that half-smirk that works it's way across his face. And he'll backfist the taste right out of your mouth. Be glad the first thing you five pieces of crap did was take me out of the game. I hope that bit of therapy was worth it. Because there are five men in your future that will do more than avenge me. They will teach you the lesson I never did.