We open on a pair of very well worn cowboy style wrestling boots. Overall the boots are white and are accentuated with red designs on the toes, heels, around the ankle and tops, and emblazoned with red firebirds.
“Take a good look at these boots.”
One boot slightly droops over on the other. On the red straps on the sides are white lettering. Some of the letters have come off over time, but looking them both over, you can piece together that these boots once said 'ALEXANDER' up the outsides of both.
“These boots have seen a lot of action over the years. In and out of hundreds of rings in thousands of matches. These boots have been in nearly every country on earth. They've been seen by millions around the world, but just look at them... simple looking boots.”
Faded, stained and worn nearly to pieces these simple boots just sit there filling the screen.
“They don't look like much. Thread-bare, stained with sweat and blood, but it's funny how a simple pair of boots can symbolize so much. You idiots out there see that these aren't just your ordinary boots, these are the boots that my father wore throughout his wrestling career. These boots were on his feet for hundreds of matches. These boots walked over the best of the best in the wrestling business for years. These boots made some of the best of the best in the wrestling world for years. These boots have been seen on TV and live in pretty much every major company that's been around in the wrestling business, including right here in the NWA.”
The camera finally pulls back to reveal Blade Alexander sitting in a chair directly behind the boots.
Blade: “It' easy to say that my dad was all about this business. It's what you people saw every week on a number of wrestling programs. There were times when he'd be on four or five nights a week on different programs for different promotions all over the world. Back in those days the most time I got to spend with my dad was the same that all you people did, just tuning in to see him on TV.”
Blade's eyes don't leave his father's boots.
Blade: “The only days off he got were due to injury, and those were usually spent doing rehab, just biding his time to get back into the ring. Wrestling was my dad's life. He was dedicated to being the best in the world, and when he was in that ring, he was.”
“But here's the thing... My dad never made excuses. He didn't make promises he couldn't keep. He'd never say he'd be at my sporting events. He didn't promise he'd make my graduations. He knew from the beginning that they were promises that he probably couldn't keep. Don't get me wrong, when he was around he was a great dad, but usually he wasn't around. I didn't get it then, and for a while I hated him for it. I get it now.”
“My dad wouldn't promise me things he couldn't deliver even when I cried and swore because he was a different kind of man, someone you don't really see too often these days. He was a man of his word. He was also a man that set goals for himself and would stop at nothing and sacrifice anything to accomplish those goals.”
“Dad was rewarded for his hard work and his sacrifices many times over. He held titles and championships all over the world. He's even held some of the NWA titles. He's been everywhere and done everything, and when that happens a man's goals in life begin to change. His focus shifts. My dad once told me that there comes a day when the titles cease to mean what they once did. Gold loses it's luster, and all that's left is a father's love for his children.”
“When that time came for my dad he hung up his boots. He didn't have anything left to prove in the ring, so he came home to catch up on the other side of life that he had missed all those long years on the road.”
Blade finally raises his cold blue eyes from the worn wrestling boots of his father to finally look into the camera.
Blade: “When my dad finally came home he really came home. We all moved out of Arizona and back to the place he was born, back to the place he met my mother, to the place I was born. My dad came home swearing to be a better father to his children and a better husband to his was, and in a manner that would make Charles Dickens proud he lived up to his word. I helped my dad build the house he lives in now and I'm glad I did. Personally it was one of the best things we ever did. It gave us the time to get past our own issues and come to understand each other better...”
He stands, stepping over his father's boots into the foreground.
Blade: “But all of that just makes for some very boring TV time, the likes of which you'd see from Misty or Spike whatever her husband is, or JT Underwood or any of those other nameless talentless idiots SCW has brought in to try and make their little promotion into something more.”
“What makes it relate now is it's a cautionary tale for the latest boring talent acquisition in Steven Kline. Pay heed, Kline. Go back and watch me tell that story over again, but this time, just like an 80's cartoon, listen to the lesson in the end.”
“Being that you're seem like a complete idiot, I'll spell that lesson out for you now. My dad had the good sense to stay retired when he stepped away to focus on other things in his life. When he cared more about his kids than title belts, he stepped away and stayed away.”
“You said let's not make this personal Kline, so let me just give you this one piece of advice from one guy to another: Don't be stupid. You want to get back into the ring to relive whatever former glory you had? You're going to get hurt, and on January 8th, I'm going to be the one to hurt you. It's not personal. It's just a matter of opportunity. You're in the wrong place at the wrong time. You want some successful comeback, chose another path. This one's not for you.”
“You're getting into the ring being fueled by nostalgia. You want to hear the fans chant you name one more time, but here's the thing buddy, these fans don't remember you. They don't care about you, but they know all about me.”
“You're getting back into the ring but you're thinking about your kids piano recitals, little league games, kindergarten finger paintings or whatever they do, but I'm only thinking about kicking your ass. You think you're ready, but then you go think about something else. You want to see your kids do great things, but I'm going to be thinking about doing great things myself.”
“Unlike some of these other guys, I'm glad I'm getting you in your big return match. If you hadn't noticed by now, I've grown up around this business, I know how these things go. You're at your best right now. You're name still has that cache, the older fans that followed you back in the day still know who you are, they still have that spark of interest in you. They know what you did and what you used to be capable of doing. They want to see you come back and do your thing against guys like me. But you're going to fail. That's not egotism. It's not cockiness. It's just harsh reality. This isn't some great Hollywood tale where you come back and it's like you've never left. You're old. You haven't got that desire anymore. You're going to fail.”
He smirks.
Blade: “I don't expect you to take my word it. It's already there in what you say. I heard you drone on like some idiot about fair play and the best man and all that crap. Who really believes all that shit anyway? I know you don't. Look at your own bio. Who are you trying to fool? Look at that thing. Your bio reads like you're some big cocky cock badass, yet you come on camera and spout some horseshit about following the rules and being such a good wrestler and may the best man win. First of all, you couldn't beat me on your best day. Second of all... What the fuck? Fairness and honesty? Shove it up your ass pal. This is professional wrestling. The rules are just lose guidelines set in place for us to overlook for the sake of entertainment. I beat the SCW Champion in a Haunted House match and you want a good clean contest? You know this isn't the Olympics right?”
“If I even think I have the chance to do something to you to get an edge in this match, I'm going to take it.”
“Take a look at this...”
Blade reaches down inside one of his fathers boots and pulls out a stainless steel chain.
Blade: “My dad kept this in his boot in every match he was ever in. Whenever he got or needed to use it, he did. You see Steven, my dad taught me how to be a man and all that, but he also taught me all about this business and how you get to the top. You talk about being the best and doing what's right, but what's right in wrestling, what's right in SCW is whatever it takes to put people like you, the talentless, charisma-less fools in your place to so this business can be pulled out of the downward spiral that you people have put it into. When I came into SCW I made the world a promise that I was going to make the big moves, that I was going to do things that mattered. Over the last few weeks I've been pushed back and allowed it to happen. I've allowed those morons that run SCW into the ground to cast me aside and push me into the roles that they wanted. You're the last straw Steve. You think this is your big comeback, but you're out here lying to everyone, most of all yourself.”
“You see SCW as your opportunity. You see this as the place to comeback, and for the past while it's looked that way. Solid wrestling, but not great. Characters that don't really compel an audience one way or another. This is supposed to be SIN CITY Wrestling. It's supposed to be the cutting edge of professional wrestling, pushing the sport past all boundaries it's ever known. Months ago I made a promise to be that man. January 8th I finally give SCW what was promised to them. Steven Kline, when you're laying in a daze, looking up at the lights wondering what happened, hand unshaken, the wrestling fantasy you thought you were coming back to crumbling around you, just remember it wasn't personal. It was just another bad decision by the people in charge of SCW.”
Fade.
