Post by shawnwarstein on Oct 6, 2022 23:33:53 GMT -5
“As it always happens, someone with a microphone and podcast, somewhere deep within their parents' basements, will inevitably ask the same old sorry ass trope of a question…”
“Why wrestling? What drove you to this profession?”
The near empty glass is held loosely by my fingertips. The Amber liquid inside swirling around the one large ice cube inside. It clings to the side of the glass. Not a single drop of condensation on the outside.
“How fucking pathetic. A surface level question. It’s a thinly veiled attempt to make yourself feel like you're digging deeper. You might as well be using a Fisher-Price shovel on clay to dig a grave.”
The single ice cube spins around the glass before I lift it towards my lips. I gently set the glass down and lick the last remnants from my lips.
“Anyone who says they are doing this for the ‘love’ of the sport or because it’s where they belong, they are just liars. They are lying to you, me, but most importantly, themselves. Everyone is in this for the same exact reason.”
“Money.”
“But not just money. Jealousy is a major contributor to this industry. Everyone wants what the other person has. They see people out there jet setting, partying and living a grand ole life, and think to themselves.”
“Why not me?”
“Already a defeatist attitude, but close to the point actually. If not them, then who? Who would people look towards to know the goings on in the world? No. It should be you. You should stand tall and stand out. Show the world that you are the North Star. That you are the GOAT. Show everyone and anyone willing to listen…”
“That I am the one to watch. That I am the one that is going to be the torch bearer for a new generation of wrestlers in this industry.”
A slight chuckle from Shawn and he glances over at the empty glass. He holds it up and rattles the ice cube around.
“Much like this glass it’s empty. It’s all for nothing. So much money to go around, yet all of you don't have enough. All the glitz and glamor, and still you crave more. People setting up their own shows to put themselves over. Others are content with going with the flow.”
“That’s where I come into play.”
Shawn goofily smiles and waves at the camera.
“I am the flow of this industry. Where I go… eyes follow. I am the blood that pumps through this industry. I walked away for a decade. Never looked back. Hell, I didn't even give anyone a simple Sayonara.”
“I had accomplished everything I had set out to do before I was 25 years old. I walked away in good-ish health, if not without a few extra vices, but I left on my own terms.”
“For nearly ten years I didn’t think about this lifestyle. I was off living my own life. Then something caught my eye.”
“People disparaging my name. MY ACCOMPLISHMENTS. I’ll admit my ego… was slightly bruised. Even then I knew what I had to do. I had to come back and remind mother fuckers just who I am.”
The camera zooms out and behind Shawn are all the titles and accolades he’s gotten in the three years he’s been back. Scrolling from title to title, award to award. A small smirk forms in the corner of his mouth.
“I tried walking away. I tried giving it all up. I hoped that someone would pick up the torch after I left.”
“I was wrong.”
“It was dropped more times than most wrestlers have been dropped on their heads. The damn torch has a bad case of CTE.”
“I came back to hold the mirror back at the industry that gave me so much and to show the world who the frauds really are. To give back what it has given me and maybe a glimmer of hope in the desolate world of wrestling. To carry the torch for a generation of people unwilling or unable to carry it. People who would rather let the past die than acknowledge it.”
“So to answer the original question. Why am I a wrestler?”
“Easy.”
“If not me then who else will carry this burden?”
Shawn reaches over and grabs a bottle of bourbon and begins to pour it in the glass. Once he’s done he gives the camera a ‘cheers’ as it fades to black.
“Why wrestling? What drove you to this profession?”
The near empty glass is held loosely by my fingertips. The Amber liquid inside swirling around the one large ice cube inside. It clings to the side of the glass. Not a single drop of condensation on the outside.
“How fucking pathetic. A surface level question. It’s a thinly veiled attempt to make yourself feel like you're digging deeper. You might as well be using a Fisher-Price shovel on clay to dig a grave.”
The single ice cube spins around the glass before I lift it towards my lips. I gently set the glass down and lick the last remnants from my lips.
“Anyone who says they are doing this for the ‘love’ of the sport or because it’s where they belong, they are just liars. They are lying to you, me, but most importantly, themselves. Everyone is in this for the same exact reason.”
“Money.”
“But not just money. Jealousy is a major contributor to this industry. Everyone wants what the other person has. They see people out there jet setting, partying and living a grand ole life, and think to themselves.”
“Why not me?”
“Already a defeatist attitude, but close to the point actually. If not them, then who? Who would people look towards to know the goings on in the world? No. It should be you. You should stand tall and stand out. Show the world that you are the North Star. That you are the GOAT. Show everyone and anyone willing to listen…”
“That I am the one to watch. That I am the one that is going to be the torch bearer for a new generation of wrestlers in this industry.”
A slight chuckle from Shawn and he glances over at the empty glass. He holds it up and rattles the ice cube around.
“Much like this glass it’s empty. It’s all for nothing. So much money to go around, yet all of you don't have enough. All the glitz and glamor, and still you crave more. People setting up their own shows to put themselves over. Others are content with going with the flow.”
“That’s where I come into play.”
Shawn goofily smiles and waves at the camera.
“I am the flow of this industry. Where I go… eyes follow. I am the blood that pumps through this industry. I walked away for a decade. Never looked back. Hell, I didn't even give anyone a simple Sayonara.”
“I had accomplished everything I had set out to do before I was 25 years old. I walked away in good-ish health, if not without a few extra vices, but I left on my own terms.”
“For nearly ten years I didn’t think about this lifestyle. I was off living my own life. Then something caught my eye.”
“People disparaging my name. MY ACCOMPLISHMENTS. I’ll admit my ego… was slightly bruised. Even then I knew what I had to do. I had to come back and remind mother fuckers just who I am.”
The camera zooms out and behind Shawn are all the titles and accolades he’s gotten in the three years he’s been back. Scrolling from title to title, award to award. A small smirk forms in the corner of his mouth.
“I tried walking away. I tried giving it all up. I hoped that someone would pick up the torch after I left.”
“I was wrong.”
“It was dropped more times than most wrestlers have been dropped on their heads. The damn torch has a bad case of CTE.”
“I came back to hold the mirror back at the industry that gave me so much and to show the world who the frauds really are. To give back what it has given me and maybe a glimmer of hope in the desolate world of wrestling. To carry the torch for a generation of people unwilling or unable to carry it. People who would rather let the past die than acknowledge it.”
“So to answer the original question. Why am I a wrestler?”
“Easy.”
“If not me then who else will carry this burden?”
Shawn reaches over and grabs a bottle of bourbon and begins to pour it in the glass. Once he’s done he gives the camera a ‘cheers’ as it fades to black.