Post by Marcus Thomas Brody, M! T! B!! on Mar 16, 2011 1:21:08 GMT
So this is what it's like to be a champion? Painful jubilance? Where your mind feels nothing but joy, happiness and rainbows, yet your body feels nothing but excruciating agony. A sense of pain that doesn't return to you until the adrenaline of competition and the euphoria of victory subside.
It had been a hectic night for me. I'd started the night in the car park with my tag partner, James Stall, returning the shark I'd stolen as part of my Empire initiation to Camisado and James Bohne which then turned into an intense brawl. After that I'd tied with James Bohne in the Jealousy Battle Royal after one hell of a contest, and that led to Commissioner Predator putting me in a Lost Heroes League preview match with James Bohne that I won after another hard-fought contest. But that wasn't the whole of my night, I still had the Tag Team Gauntlet match for the newly created FWF Unified Tag Team Championships and James (Stall, that is, not Bohne) and I had the misfortune of drawing the first entry, heavily stacking the odds against us. Somehow the rookies with a championship history that, well, didn't exist outlasted five other teams, with eighty championships between them all (seven of them Heavyweight Championships!) to actually win the gauntlet and our first championships. I'd been running on adrenaline through my matches until the new gold belt had been handed to me when the euphoria kicked in. My gaze was anchored on the glistening centreplate, even as I helped James to the back.
Unfortunately for James, he had no time to take in our win, for he was back out there moments later for his Jealousy semi-final with "The" Ross Walker, so once he was gone I took to a bench and just sat there with the belt in my hands, fixatedly staring. I didn't bother to shower or change, I just sat there and stared, not paying attention to anything else at all. I'd heard smatterings of ooh-ing and ahh-ing from some of the guys in the back and finally a round of applause but I never once looked up from the title. That was until...
???: Did you just watch that?
MTB: Huh?
I looked up from my championship for the first time that night to see clothes that were royal blue with dirty purple splotches engulfing it, with arms that were caked in scar tissue and seemingly fresh blood, and a mess of congealed blood, sweat and tears that appeared to be smiling perched on top. There stood The Predator himself. Not Mr. Predator who took my training to the next level and not Commissioner Predator who would be in control over the Lost Heroes League, but the legend himself, THE Predator.
The Predator: That's a no, then.
Shit! How could I have missed Predator versus Pain!? He's going to get angry, and judging by the state he looked, I wouldn't like it when he's angry. To my amazement, his smile never faltered, he took a glance at the belt and set himself down at my side, still looking at it.
The Predator: Don't worry, I understand. Take it in, kid. It's not every day you win your first big one. May I?
He gestured to the belt, and I could only muster a nod, before handing it to him. He held it up in the air, and sighed a fairly nostalgic sigh.
The Predator: You know you've made it the moment you hold one of these. It feels like like yesterday when I had my first. October 1st 2000; my 28th birthday. It was a Tag Team title, just like yours. With your father, too. And, do you know what I did?
MTB: No.
The Predator: Exactly what it looks like you did. I sat in the locker room, and just sat there. I sat there and looked at the belt. Nothing else. Just looked at it. I took it in.
He placed the belt back in my hands and I could see a look of pride in his eyes. It was as if he felt like he was passing the torch to me, as if he knew how good I was.
The Predator: Well done, kid. You deserve it.
And then he did something I don't remember him doing ever. He patted me on the back. As he got up to leave, I couldn't help but finally speak.
MTB: How was your match? Did you win?
He smirked.
The Predator: Just watch it when you can. Your dad's taped it.
He turned to leave again, but once more I interrupted.
MTB: Why'd you put me in that match before?
He stayed silent.
MTB: Go on? Why?
The Predator: Another time. Just take it in, kid. Take it in.
And with that, he was gone. I was alone in the locker room with just my newly won championship belt for company. The easy part was over: winning the championship. Now it was time for the hard part: keeping it. But I never even got a chance to defend it.
Fast-forward to the present day. Six months had passed since I'd had my first taste of gold in FWF, and James and I had never defended the titles. Why is that, you ask? And what have I been up to these last six months? To be honest, I don't know. I'm not clued up on the goings on. All we knew was just days after Jealousy, we got e-mails saying that FWF was going into hiatus again, and that we'd be told when FWF was back. I knew something was up. I asked my dad but he wouldn't tell me. I tried calling James since Chairman Pain is his uncle but he didn't answer. Mr. Predator was busy filming some documentary on food. No one could answer me. No one! And I was livid. I'd gone and gained a shitload of momentum, and what happened with it? Nothing! What was I supposed to do with all this talent? The Predator himself said I've already made it! What was I to do? The answer came to me like a light being switched on, and one name sprang to mind: I got my phone and made the call. There was an answer:
???: Sandy Strachon.
MTB: Hello, Mr. Strachon, it's Marcus Thomas Brody.
Sandy Strachon: Please, MTB... why so formal? Call me Sandy.
For those who don't know, Sandy Strachon is one of the world's top media moguls. He was the founder of UCW and made everyone in the company a star, from my dad "The Human Suplex Machine" Marcus Brody right down to Jack "The Steel" Woody. But of course, you're more familiar with his eldest son, Sam Strachon, FWF's antagonistic play-by-play man. He was also one of the most hated men around. I knew for a fact my dad despised him. Yet Sandy was supportive of me, and knew I could be a star. He could see my greatness.
MTB: Oh okay, Sandy.
Sandy Strachon: So what's up, MTB?
MTB: It's about FWF.
Sandy Strachon: Ah yeah, heard about that. It'll be a while before they're back up and running. You'll be needing some work, won't you?
MTB: How did you know?
I could hear a chortle on the other end of the line.
Sandy Strachon: I just do, MTB. Say, how about lunch on Thursday? My treat. We can talk business then. Noon at Pinnochio's. If you plan on drinking, bring your own booze.
MTB: I'll bear that in mind, Sandy.
Now, since I lived at home, I had to tell my dad where I'm going, and since my dad absolutely detests Sandy, I couldn't tell him I'm going to meet him, can I? I could say I'm going to the gym. No, we have one in the house. I could say I'm going to the shops. No, he'd want me to get him stuff. James Stall wasn't even in the country. How about meeting a girl? No chance he'd have bought that. Plus he'd have given me "the talk" which I definitely didn't want. Seemed like a case of winging it. Thursday came, and I just decided to put on a shirt and jeans, since it had been a fairly warm September so far, and walk out, when my dad boomed behind me:
Marcus Brody: Where are you going?
MTB: Just out.
Here it was. Here comes his strict ruling.
Marcus Brody: Okay, Junior. Don't be too late.
What? I was stunned. He was never like this. I'd expected him to be all inquisitive, but he was just shrugging it off and letting me go out. Something must've been up.
MTB: Don't worry, I won't.
I walked down to town centre, bought a few bottles of Brothers strawberry cider, and headed to Pinnochio's. It was a tiny Italian restaurant that looked really dingy on the outside, yet was well decorated. We had to bring our own booze since the place had no license. I arrived early to find Sandy waiting for me at a table.
Sandy Strachon: Ah, MTB. Good to see you, man.
He stood and shook my hand. My I'd forgotten how thick those eyebrows were. He gestured for me to sit and handed me a menu.
Sandy Strachon: This place is off the chain, MTB. You've gotta get the wings first. They're awesome.
MTB: And the mains are mostly pizza?
Sandy Strachon: Obviously. It's called Pizzeria Pinnochio, not Fish-and-Chips-eria Pinnochio.
He turned his attention to a waiter, and ordered for me. Didn't even ask me. But when the wings and a sizeable pizza loaded with olives, mushrooms, spicy beef, chicken and pepperoni arrived, I knew I could trust his judgment. After a bit of food, and some of the drinks, talk got to business.
Sandy Strachon: So you want to do something now FWF's shut?
MTB: Yeah.
Sandy Strachon: Good. I've got something for you. I've got connections who can really hype you as a big deal, and I think you've got the talent to back it up. You'll be going around the country, and making a bigger name for yourself than you already have. But first, we need an image for you. The straight-man wrestler may have worked for your dad, but that's so early 90s. This is 2011 People want charisma. People want flamboyance. People want someone epic. People don't want Marcus Thomas Brody. People want M! T! B! You saw it yourself in the club the other week. When "Livin' on a Prayer" came on, you owned that dancefloor. You put the energy and character into your performances in the ring that you showed there and your star will rise so fast that you not only break the sound barrier, you break the light barrier! In fact... that song fits you perfectly. You don't want to come out to the UCW theme forever, do you?
MTB: I guess I don't.
Sandy Strachon: Good. That settles it. You're coming out to Bon Jovi. And throw in a couple of those shapes you were busting when you enter. Like the slide. When you did that in Subspace, the place went nuts. You should do it when you get in the ring. Brilliant! That's that settled.
Wow, I couldn't even get a word in. Not that I'm complaining. His points were actually very good. We finished our meal soon after and within days I was booked on a British wrestling "Super Show" with stars from many of the territories. Sandy had even managed to score me a UKAW United Kingdom Heavyweight Championship match for the show. UKAW were one of the top independent promotions in Britain, and I was already being penned for a Championship match. All felt well until I got another call from Sandy.
Sandy Strachon: MTB, my boy. Just been reading through the rules of the UKAW UK title... how many silver trophies have you won?
MTB: Three.
There was a hesitant pause.
Sandy Strachon: Ah. That's a snag. You need six to be eligible.
MTB: When's the Super Show?
I could hear Sandy clicking away at a computer, looking for the answer.
Sandy Strachon: February 19th. You've got less than six months to go. Plenty of time to get three trophies....
Ah, my birthday... The time had passed by fairly quickly. By the time my 22nd birthday arrived I'd won the three trophies. Sure, I could go into details, but they're nothing noteworthy. The people I faced were so vanilla and so green it was starting to get boring. I needed better competition. Hell, I was doing dance moves between wrestling moves to try and get the crowds behind me. Sandy had been working hard marketing me, and it hadn't been long before posters started featuring me as the main attraction. My dad was even impressed by the amount of wrestling I'd been doing. Of course, he didn't know about my business relationship with Sandy.
February 25th finally came and I was all set for my match. Except for one teeny, tiny little thing.
MTB: My opponent! Who's my opponent!? Shit!
All this time wrestling and I didn't even keep track of who the British champion is. I punched the wall with frustration and sighed. How much use was training when I don't even know who I'm facing? But wait, wasn't my first match in FWF against a mystery opponent? I'd been taught to prepare for the unknown... oh crap... Unknown... could it be him? Either way it's time to shine.
The keyboard opening of "Livin' on a Prayer" soothed in through the arena and, like it did in the clubs, I felt myself getting pumped. The adrenaline was rushing and I could hear the crowd stirring with excitement. I stood with my arms out and my back to the curtain. The curtain raised and a light hit me. The song got going and I turned and got my first look at this arena. Sure, it wasn't as big as the arenas I'd been in with FWF but it was still pretty damn big, and this crowd were really for me. It wasn't like the polite "son of a legend" responses I'd been getting in FWF; these people paid their money to see me. And you know what? It felt good. I danced my way to the ring, and got to the ring in time for Richie Sambora's guitar solo. Time for the air guitar! And of course that means one thing... Whammy! Powerslide! Pop! In fact, the biggest pop I'd ever received. They love me. They really love me.
I spent a moment waiting for my opponent. I'd half expected Marilyn Manon's "Fight Song" but, thankfully, some indy song played. That's not Unknown. Part of me had expected that. What I hadn't expected was...
MTB: Chuft Guy!!!!
Out through the curtain, he came, with cargo shorts and fluorescent t-shirt, the gold around his waist. He's 37. I'm 22 today. I've got youth on my side. He's past his prime. This isn't 2002 anymore. This is 2011. His time is up, and it's time I showed him. It's time I beat another ex-UCW guy... He got in the ring and held the belt in my face.
Chuft Guy: Are you ready, doood?
Well no, I didn't even know he was champ. I couldn't let him know that.
MTB: Ready as I'll ever be.
Chuft Guy: That's good. Now give it all you've got.
The bell rang and we locked up. I used my strength advantage to get the upper hand with a headlock. Bad move as he reversed it into a headlock of his own, and my, did it hurt? I felt the blood to my legs getting cut off and my knees weakening. I couldn't let myself get to the floor. That's where he shines. I could hear Chuft's voice in my ear.
Chuft Guy: Come on. This all you've got?
MTB: No.
I started fighting the headlock using adrenaline and the clapping of the crowd to give me strength.
Chuft Guy: Really? Is this it?
I fought it some more. I got my arms around his waist.
MTB: No.
Chuft Guy: You sure? This all?
MTB: NOOOOOOOO!!!
I used the strength I had to drop him with a side suplex. That released the hold. Now he was down. He's a veteran. He'll try and find a way to get me to the mat. He uses his back to get his leverage. Target that. I struck his back with my knees and I could hear he felt them. I went to the mat and put him in a waistlock. I lifted him and hit a German Suplex and bridged it for a two count. I caught Chuft saying something to me as he got to his feet.
Chuft Guy: Not bad. But it's gonna take more than that to beat me, homeslice.
The action continued for a few more minutes. I couldn't remember it all, though. He got some offence and some neat reversals. I got some offence and some neat reversals. I whipped him into the corner and set up up in a tree of woe. And just then, I had an idea. I spun to the centre of the ring, and warmed the crowd with some air guitar before charging and sliding my knee into Chuft Guy's face. He crumpled to the mat. I helped him up and immediately lifted him, bounced his legs off the ropes and dropped him with a Slingshot Suplex. I went for a cover. 1... 2... he kicked out. I went for a knee drop but he rolled out of the way and caught my legs. He held my legs up, and stepped over with his left leg whilst the crowd yelled "French!" He stepped the other over. "Toast!" But... before he could drop for the "Pop!" I grabbed him by the head and hit him with a low suplex. I kept hold of him, and ducked behind him to hit a German Suplex. I lifted him, turned him and hit a normal suplex, then kept his head locked in my arm. I lifted him again, hooked his leg and dropped him with a Fisherman's Suplex. I bridged that into a pin. 1... 2... 3! The bell rang and I'd done it. My music hit, and I could hear the crowd chanting "MTB! MTB! MTB!" The referee handed me the gold that was adorned with a large Union Flag in the centre. So this was a singles title. Damn this felt good. Chuft got up and patted me on the back as he left.
Chuft Guy: Good job, Bro... Mark was right about you. You really are great.
MTB: He said that.
Chuft Guy: Yup. And happy birthday.
I went back to my hotel afterwards and stared at the belt for ages. All of a sudden, I got a text. It was my dad: "FWF's back. You're in Blizzard match on March 16th. Happy birthday BTW" My heart rose. This was the chance I needed. Not only was I one half of the FWF Unified Tag Team Champions, and the United Kingdom Heavyweight Champion of the United Kingdom Association of Wrestling, and now I was in the Blizzard match with a chance to go to Genesis VIII to become World Champion! It felt so good, I danced around the room and celebrated with a bottle of wine, and before I went to bed in the early hours of the morning, I opened the window and screamed for all to hear on the streets of London:
MTB: I'm the champion! I'm the best! I'm the best, damn it! I'm M! T! B!
What a birthday that was. March 16th arrived in no time at all and I found myself in the locker room having last minute preparations when my phone rang. The caller ID read: "Sandy Strachon"
MTB: Yello...
Sandy Strachon: Yo, MTB. Just wanted to wish you luck for Blizzard. Not that you need it...
MTB: Thanks.
Sandy Strachon: Do you know who's in the match?
MTB: I think I've got a few ideas. Ross is in there, I know that. As is James Stall. And a few minor names and some guys past their prime.
Sandy Strachon: I've heard some of them. We've got Camisado...
MTB: Beat him.
Sandy Strachon: James Bohne.
MTB: Beat him.
Sandy Strachon: The Meds.
MTB: Beat them. Some of the guys I've heard are in it were in the Jealousy Battle Royal and I co-won that.
Sandy Strachon: Co-won? Just say you won it. I think you eliminated half of them too. Listen, MTB. This is your time to shine. You've beaten a lot of the guys in this match, you have experience in the over-the-top environment, and you've come a long way in the past six months. It's safe to say you're one of the favourites in this one.
MTB: Yeah you're right. I'm talented. I'm young. I'm a champion. I'm MTB. This is it. I win this match, and I'm main-eventing Genesis! And it's all thanks to you, Sandy.
Sandy Strachon: Don't mention it. Now go finish getting ready.
MTB: Alright. We'll talk later, Sandy.
I hung up and thought for a moment about this match. This was the biggest match of my career so far. I win this and it's off to Genesis I go. There's a couple of former champions in there but that's fine. I've beaten many a former champion. Hell, I'd beaten five of them to win the Tag Titles. 22 years old and main-eventing Genesis. Sounds good to me. I then caught a shadow lurking behind behind me, and his voice was one I'd known all my life.
???: Sandy, huh, junior?
I turned and it was my dad, "The Human Suplex Machine" Marcus Brody. He was dressed to compete as well in his royal blue singlet and black shorts, and he reeked of hair dye.
MTB: Dad...
Marcus Brody: So he's the reason you've made a name for yourself...
He looked disappointed.
MTB: Yeah. He's done wonders for my career.
Marcus Brody: It's not all smoke, mirrors and dancing, junior. And you'd better control that ego too. Sandy's a right bastard, so watch it.
MTB: But dad, I don't see what your problem is with him. He's a top guy. He's done wonders for my confidence. He's made me my own person. I'm no longer just the son of Marcus Brody. I'm MTB. Now if you excuse me, I've got a big match to focus on.
Marcus Brody: Well let's hope your flashiness doesn't stop you giving it your all. In fact, I'll make sure you do.
MTB: And why's that, dad?
My dad's disappointment turned to mild amusement and he turned to the door.
Marcus Brody: Because you're not the only Brody in the Blizzard match. You've beaten The Breakfast Table. You've beaten Jack "The Steel" Woody. You've beaten Dynamite D. You've beaten Chuft Guy. Let's see if you can beat your old man.
And with that, he was gone.Fantastic. Not only was I in a position to win Blizzard, I could eliminate my dad to do it too. Excellent. It's the perfect opportunity to show that I'm no longer just Brody's kid and that I only got in because of that. I'll show them all. They shall know that I am my own person and not in my father's shadow! And they will know that I am... MTB.[/color]
It had been a hectic night for me. I'd started the night in the car park with my tag partner, James Stall, returning the shark I'd stolen as part of my Empire initiation to Camisado and James Bohne which then turned into an intense brawl. After that I'd tied with James Bohne in the Jealousy Battle Royal after one hell of a contest, and that led to Commissioner Predator putting me in a Lost Heroes League preview match with James Bohne that I won after another hard-fought contest. But that wasn't the whole of my night, I still had the Tag Team Gauntlet match for the newly created FWF Unified Tag Team Championships and James (Stall, that is, not Bohne) and I had the misfortune of drawing the first entry, heavily stacking the odds against us. Somehow the rookies with a championship history that, well, didn't exist outlasted five other teams, with eighty championships between them all (seven of them Heavyweight Championships!) to actually win the gauntlet and our first championships. I'd been running on adrenaline through my matches until the new gold belt had been handed to me when the euphoria kicked in. My gaze was anchored on the glistening centreplate, even as I helped James to the back.
Unfortunately for James, he had no time to take in our win, for he was back out there moments later for his Jealousy semi-final with "The" Ross Walker, so once he was gone I took to a bench and just sat there with the belt in my hands, fixatedly staring. I didn't bother to shower or change, I just sat there and stared, not paying attention to anything else at all. I'd heard smatterings of ooh-ing and ahh-ing from some of the guys in the back and finally a round of applause but I never once looked up from the title. That was until...
???: Did you just watch that?
MTB: Huh?
I looked up from my championship for the first time that night to see clothes that were royal blue with dirty purple splotches engulfing it, with arms that were caked in scar tissue and seemingly fresh blood, and a mess of congealed blood, sweat and tears that appeared to be smiling perched on top. There stood The Predator himself. Not Mr. Predator who took my training to the next level and not Commissioner Predator who would be in control over the Lost Heroes League, but the legend himself, THE Predator.
The Predator: That's a no, then.
Shit! How could I have missed Predator versus Pain!? He's going to get angry, and judging by the state he looked, I wouldn't like it when he's angry. To my amazement, his smile never faltered, he took a glance at the belt and set himself down at my side, still looking at it.
The Predator: Don't worry, I understand. Take it in, kid. It's not every day you win your first big one. May I?
He gestured to the belt, and I could only muster a nod, before handing it to him. He held it up in the air, and sighed a fairly nostalgic sigh.
The Predator: You know you've made it the moment you hold one of these. It feels like like yesterday when I had my first. October 1st 2000; my 28th birthday. It was a Tag Team title, just like yours. With your father, too. And, do you know what I did?
MTB: No.
The Predator: Exactly what it looks like you did. I sat in the locker room, and just sat there. I sat there and looked at the belt. Nothing else. Just looked at it. I took it in.
He placed the belt back in my hands and I could see a look of pride in his eyes. It was as if he felt like he was passing the torch to me, as if he knew how good I was.
The Predator: Well done, kid. You deserve it.
And then he did something I don't remember him doing ever. He patted me on the back. As he got up to leave, I couldn't help but finally speak.
MTB: How was your match? Did you win?
He smirked.
The Predator: Just watch it when you can. Your dad's taped it.
He turned to leave again, but once more I interrupted.
MTB: Why'd you put me in that match before?
He stayed silent.
MTB: Go on? Why?
The Predator: Another time. Just take it in, kid. Take it in.
And with that, he was gone. I was alone in the locker room with just my newly won championship belt for company. The easy part was over: winning the championship. Now it was time for the hard part: keeping it. But I never even got a chance to defend it.
***
Fast-forward to the present day. Six months had passed since I'd had my first taste of gold in FWF, and James and I had never defended the titles. Why is that, you ask? And what have I been up to these last six months? To be honest, I don't know. I'm not clued up on the goings on. All we knew was just days after Jealousy, we got e-mails saying that FWF was going into hiatus again, and that we'd be told when FWF was back. I knew something was up. I asked my dad but he wouldn't tell me. I tried calling James since Chairman Pain is his uncle but he didn't answer. Mr. Predator was busy filming some documentary on food. No one could answer me. No one! And I was livid. I'd gone and gained a shitload of momentum, and what happened with it? Nothing! What was I supposed to do with all this talent? The Predator himself said I've already made it! What was I to do? The answer came to me like a light being switched on, and one name sprang to mind: I got my phone and made the call. There was an answer:
???: Sandy Strachon.
MTB: Hello, Mr. Strachon, it's Marcus Thomas Brody.
Sandy Strachon: Please, MTB... why so formal? Call me Sandy.
For those who don't know, Sandy Strachon is one of the world's top media moguls. He was the founder of UCW and made everyone in the company a star, from my dad "The Human Suplex Machine" Marcus Brody right down to Jack "The Steel" Woody. But of course, you're more familiar with his eldest son, Sam Strachon, FWF's antagonistic play-by-play man. He was also one of the most hated men around. I knew for a fact my dad despised him. Yet Sandy was supportive of me, and knew I could be a star. He could see my greatness.
MTB: Oh okay, Sandy.
Sandy Strachon: So what's up, MTB?
MTB: It's about FWF.
Sandy Strachon: Ah yeah, heard about that. It'll be a while before they're back up and running. You'll be needing some work, won't you?
MTB: How did you know?
I could hear a chortle on the other end of the line.
Sandy Strachon: I just do, MTB. Say, how about lunch on Thursday? My treat. We can talk business then. Noon at Pinnochio's. If you plan on drinking, bring your own booze.
MTB: I'll bear that in mind, Sandy.
Now, since I lived at home, I had to tell my dad where I'm going, and since my dad absolutely detests Sandy, I couldn't tell him I'm going to meet him, can I? I could say I'm going to the gym. No, we have one in the house. I could say I'm going to the shops. No, he'd want me to get him stuff. James Stall wasn't even in the country. How about meeting a girl? No chance he'd have bought that. Plus he'd have given me "the talk" which I definitely didn't want. Seemed like a case of winging it. Thursday came, and I just decided to put on a shirt and jeans, since it had been a fairly warm September so far, and walk out, when my dad boomed behind me:
Marcus Brody: Where are you going?
MTB: Just out.
Here it was. Here comes his strict ruling.
Marcus Brody: Okay, Junior. Don't be too late.
What? I was stunned. He was never like this. I'd expected him to be all inquisitive, but he was just shrugging it off and letting me go out. Something must've been up.
MTB: Don't worry, I won't.
I walked down to town centre, bought a few bottles of Brothers strawberry cider, and headed to Pinnochio's. It was a tiny Italian restaurant that looked really dingy on the outside, yet was well decorated. We had to bring our own booze since the place had no license. I arrived early to find Sandy waiting for me at a table.
Sandy Strachon: Ah, MTB. Good to see you, man.
He stood and shook my hand. My I'd forgotten how thick those eyebrows were. He gestured for me to sit and handed me a menu.
Sandy Strachon: This place is off the chain, MTB. You've gotta get the wings first. They're awesome.
MTB: And the mains are mostly pizza?
Sandy Strachon: Obviously. It's called Pizzeria Pinnochio, not Fish-and-Chips-eria Pinnochio.
He turned his attention to a waiter, and ordered for me. Didn't even ask me. But when the wings and a sizeable pizza loaded with olives, mushrooms, spicy beef, chicken and pepperoni arrived, I knew I could trust his judgment. After a bit of food, and some of the drinks, talk got to business.
Sandy Strachon: So you want to do something now FWF's shut?
MTB: Yeah.
Sandy Strachon: Good. I've got something for you. I've got connections who can really hype you as a big deal, and I think you've got the talent to back it up. You'll be going around the country, and making a bigger name for yourself than you already have. But first, we need an image for you. The straight-man wrestler may have worked for your dad, but that's so early 90s. This is 2011 People want charisma. People want flamboyance. People want someone epic. People don't want Marcus Thomas Brody. People want M! T! B! You saw it yourself in the club the other week. When "Livin' on a Prayer" came on, you owned that dancefloor. You put the energy and character into your performances in the ring that you showed there and your star will rise so fast that you not only break the sound barrier, you break the light barrier! In fact... that song fits you perfectly. You don't want to come out to the UCW theme forever, do you?
MTB: I guess I don't.
Sandy Strachon: Good. That settles it. You're coming out to Bon Jovi. And throw in a couple of those shapes you were busting when you enter. Like the slide. When you did that in Subspace, the place went nuts. You should do it when you get in the ring. Brilliant! That's that settled.
Wow, I couldn't even get a word in. Not that I'm complaining. His points were actually very good. We finished our meal soon after and within days I was booked on a British wrestling "Super Show" with stars from many of the territories. Sandy had even managed to score me a UKAW United Kingdom Heavyweight Championship match for the show. UKAW were one of the top independent promotions in Britain, and I was already being penned for a Championship match. All felt well until I got another call from Sandy.
Sandy Strachon: MTB, my boy. Just been reading through the rules of the UKAW UK title... how many silver trophies have you won?
MTB: Three.
There was a hesitant pause.
Sandy Strachon: Ah. That's a snag. You need six to be eligible.
MTB: When's the Super Show?
I could hear Sandy clicking away at a computer, looking for the answer.
Sandy Strachon: February 19th. You've got less than six months to go. Plenty of time to get three trophies....
Ah, my birthday... The time had passed by fairly quickly. By the time my 22nd birthday arrived I'd won the three trophies. Sure, I could go into details, but they're nothing noteworthy. The people I faced were so vanilla and so green it was starting to get boring. I needed better competition. Hell, I was doing dance moves between wrestling moves to try and get the crowds behind me. Sandy had been working hard marketing me, and it hadn't been long before posters started featuring me as the main attraction. My dad was even impressed by the amount of wrestling I'd been doing. Of course, he didn't know about my business relationship with Sandy.
***
February 25th finally came and I was all set for my match. Except for one teeny, tiny little thing.
MTB: My opponent! Who's my opponent!? Shit!
All this time wrestling and I didn't even keep track of who the British champion is. I punched the wall with frustration and sighed. How much use was training when I don't even know who I'm facing? But wait, wasn't my first match in FWF against a mystery opponent? I'd been taught to prepare for the unknown... oh crap... Unknown... could it be him? Either way it's time to shine.
The keyboard opening of "Livin' on a Prayer" soothed in through the arena and, like it did in the clubs, I felt myself getting pumped. The adrenaline was rushing and I could hear the crowd stirring with excitement. I stood with my arms out and my back to the curtain. The curtain raised and a light hit me. The song got going and I turned and got my first look at this arena. Sure, it wasn't as big as the arenas I'd been in with FWF but it was still pretty damn big, and this crowd were really for me. It wasn't like the polite "son of a legend" responses I'd been getting in FWF; these people paid their money to see me. And you know what? It felt good. I danced my way to the ring, and got to the ring in time for Richie Sambora's guitar solo. Time for the air guitar! And of course that means one thing... Whammy! Powerslide! Pop! In fact, the biggest pop I'd ever received. They love me. They really love me.
I spent a moment waiting for my opponent. I'd half expected Marilyn Manon's "Fight Song" but, thankfully, some indy song played. That's not Unknown. Part of me had expected that. What I hadn't expected was...
MTB: Chuft Guy!!!!
Out through the curtain, he came, with cargo shorts and fluorescent t-shirt, the gold around his waist. He's 37. I'm 22 today. I've got youth on my side. He's past his prime. This isn't 2002 anymore. This is 2011. His time is up, and it's time I showed him. It's time I beat another ex-UCW guy... He got in the ring and held the belt in my face.
Chuft Guy: Are you ready, doood?
Well no, I didn't even know he was champ. I couldn't let him know that.
MTB: Ready as I'll ever be.
Chuft Guy: That's good. Now give it all you've got.
The bell rang and we locked up. I used my strength advantage to get the upper hand with a headlock. Bad move as he reversed it into a headlock of his own, and my, did it hurt? I felt the blood to my legs getting cut off and my knees weakening. I couldn't let myself get to the floor. That's where he shines. I could hear Chuft's voice in my ear.
Chuft Guy: Come on. This all you've got?
MTB: No.
I started fighting the headlock using adrenaline and the clapping of the crowd to give me strength.
Chuft Guy: Really? Is this it?
I fought it some more. I got my arms around his waist.
MTB: No.
Chuft Guy: You sure? This all?
MTB: NOOOOOOOO!!!
I used the strength I had to drop him with a side suplex. That released the hold. Now he was down. He's a veteran. He'll try and find a way to get me to the mat. He uses his back to get his leverage. Target that. I struck his back with my knees and I could hear he felt them. I went to the mat and put him in a waistlock. I lifted him and hit a German Suplex and bridged it for a two count. I caught Chuft saying something to me as he got to his feet.
Chuft Guy: Not bad. But it's gonna take more than that to beat me, homeslice.
The action continued for a few more minutes. I couldn't remember it all, though. He got some offence and some neat reversals. I got some offence and some neat reversals. I whipped him into the corner and set up up in a tree of woe. And just then, I had an idea. I spun to the centre of the ring, and warmed the crowd with some air guitar before charging and sliding my knee into Chuft Guy's face. He crumpled to the mat. I helped him up and immediately lifted him, bounced his legs off the ropes and dropped him with a Slingshot Suplex. I went for a cover. 1... 2... he kicked out. I went for a knee drop but he rolled out of the way and caught my legs. He held my legs up, and stepped over with his left leg whilst the crowd yelled "French!" He stepped the other over. "Toast!" But... before he could drop for the "Pop!" I grabbed him by the head and hit him with a low suplex. I kept hold of him, and ducked behind him to hit a German Suplex. I lifted him, turned him and hit a normal suplex, then kept his head locked in my arm. I lifted him again, hooked his leg and dropped him with a Fisherman's Suplex. I bridged that into a pin. 1... 2... 3! The bell rang and I'd done it. My music hit, and I could hear the crowd chanting "MTB! MTB! MTB!" The referee handed me the gold that was adorned with a large Union Flag in the centre. So this was a singles title. Damn this felt good. Chuft got up and patted me on the back as he left.
Chuft Guy: Good job, Bro... Mark was right about you. You really are great.
MTB: He said that.
Chuft Guy: Yup. And happy birthday.
I went back to my hotel afterwards and stared at the belt for ages. All of a sudden, I got a text. It was my dad: "FWF's back. You're in Blizzard match on March 16th. Happy birthday BTW" My heart rose. This was the chance I needed. Not only was I one half of the FWF Unified Tag Team Champions, and the United Kingdom Heavyweight Champion of the United Kingdom Association of Wrestling, and now I was in the Blizzard match with a chance to go to Genesis VIII to become World Champion! It felt so good, I danced around the room and celebrated with a bottle of wine, and before I went to bed in the early hours of the morning, I opened the window and screamed for all to hear on the streets of London:
MTB: I'm the champion! I'm the best! I'm the best, damn it! I'm M! T! B!
What a birthday that was. March 16th arrived in no time at all and I found myself in the locker room having last minute preparations when my phone rang. The caller ID read: "Sandy Strachon"
MTB: Yello...
Sandy Strachon: Yo, MTB. Just wanted to wish you luck for Blizzard. Not that you need it...
MTB: Thanks.
Sandy Strachon: Do you know who's in the match?
MTB: I think I've got a few ideas. Ross is in there, I know that. As is James Stall. And a few minor names and some guys past their prime.
Sandy Strachon: I've heard some of them. We've got Camisado...
MTB: Beat him.
Sandy Strachon: James Bohne.
MTB: Beat him.
Sandy Strachon: The Meds.
MTB: Beat them. Some of the guys I've heard are in it were in the Jealousy Battle Royal and I co-won that.
Sandy Strachon: Co-won? Just say you won it. I think you eliminated half of them too. Listen, MTB. This is your time to shine. You've beaten a lot of the guys in this match, you have experience in the over-the-top environment, and you've come a long way in the past six months. It's safe to say you're one of the favourites in this one.
MTB: Yeah you're right. I'm talented. I'm young. I'm a champion. I'm MTB. This is it. I win this match, and I'm main-eventing Genesis! And it's all thanks to you, Sandy.
Sandy Strachon: Don't mention it. Now go finish getting ready.
MTB: Alright. We'll talk later, Sandy.
I hung up and thought for a moment about this match. This was the biggest match of my career so far. I win this and it's off to Genesis I go. There's a couple of former champions in there but that's fine. I've beaten many a former champion. Hell, I'd beaten five of them to win the Tag Titles. 22 years old and main-eventing Genesis. Sounds good to me. I then caught a shadow lurking behind behind me, and his voice was one I'd known all my life.
???: Sandy, huh, junior?
I turned and it was my dad, "The Human Suplex Machine" Marcus Brody. He was dressed to compete as well in his royal blue singlet and black shorts, and he reeked of hair dye.
MTB: Dad...
Marcus Brody: So he's the reason you've made a name for yourself...
He looked disappointed.
MTB: Yeah. He's done wonders for my career.
Marcus Brody: It's not all smoke, mirrors and dancing, junior. And you'd better control that ego too. Sandy's a right bastard, so watch it.
MTB: But dad, I don't see what your problem is with him. He's a top guy. He's done wonders for my confidence. He's made me my own person. I'm no longer just the son of Marcus Brody. I'm MTB. Now if you excuse me, I've got a big match to focus on.
Marcus Brody: Well let's hope your flashiness doesn't stop you giving it your all. In fact, I'll make sure you do.
MTB: And why's that, dad?
My dad's disappointment turned to mild amusement and he turned to the door.
Marcus Brody: Because you're not the only Brody in the Blizzard match. You've beaten The Breakfast Table. You've beaten Jack "The Steel" Woody. You've beaten Dynamite D. You've beaten Chuft Guy. Let's see if you can beat your old man.
And with that, he was gone.Fantastic. Not only was I in a position to win Blizzard, I could eliminate my dad to do it too. Excellent. It's the perfect opportunity to show that I'm no longer just Brody's kid and that I only got in because of that. I'll show them all. They shall know that I am my own person and not in my father's shadow! And they will know that I am... MTB.[/color]
