From Christchurch...
Sept 19, 2016 8:44:04 GMT -5
Post by Ethan Thompson II on Sept 19, 2016 8:44:04 GMT -5
Christchurch, New Zealand is a long, long way away from the glitz and glamour of California. It’s a city of three-hundred something thousand people, third largest in New Zealand.
And for Ethan Thompson II, it’s home in a way that no other place could be.
“They call it the Garden City,” the man himself says, walking down a street clad in his usual finest – a well-tailored suit with well-polished shoes. “I grew up a few blocks from here. My dad was a bartender at a pub a few blocks away before he became a pro wrestler.”
His dad was Ethan Thompson, the (Cowardly) Lion of Christchurch and (alleged) Knight of the British Empire. His dad was many other things, but all that mattered to Ethan was that his father was. Past tense, now resting comfortably in a cemetery leaving the family to pick up the pieces.
“Gods, why am I even doing this,” he asks, himself as much as those watching. “This is far too sentimental, but it is a piece of who am I, as much as what I do in a ring. This is where I come from. When I was a kid, I harbored fantasy of joining the All Blacks. That never happened, but I’ve had the chance to make my name internationally just like they have.”
Ethan flashes a self-conscious smile. His entire manner is different from the press conference; he’s far less snooty, far less arrogant, and far less in control of himself.
“I wanted you all to see this, though,” Ethan says, taking a deep breath. “I wanted you to see where I came from. To see who I am, because it reveals a simple truth about the world that far too many people simply ignore.”
Ethan’s steady gait stops, and he squares his shoulders. Apparently, he thinks that what he has to say is important.
“Assholes,” Ethan says, with a gleam in his eye, “are people too. We have families, loves, ambitions. We do not spend every waking moment of our days deciding how to make you miserable – it simply comes naturally to us.”
Thompson shrugs offhandedly. For Ethan, being an asshole really is easy as breathing sometimes.
“I am going to arrive in California and show the entire world what I’ve been working on these past three months. My father looked me square in the eyes on his deathbed and challenged me to be better than he ever was. That means nothing but bad things for you all, but above all else? It means that Mexico City’s favorite son is going to be on the receiving end of the sorts of beatings that get written about in epic ballads and, well…Californian police reports.”
Oh yes, he knows his history, too. He’s a well-read little shit.
“So don’t hate me, 3GW, because I’m this ruggedly handsome. Don’t hate me because I have on my arm a woman the likes of which you’d all sacrifice your spleen for. Don’t hate me because I will, in time, European uppercut and otherwise bludgeon my way to the top of this company – and rest assured that while there will be plenty of Glitz, Glamour, and Glory, there will also be a trail of broken noses and faces rubbed into the mat. I promise that much.”
For months, he has trained for this moment – and though his words are soft and spoken in New Zealand-accented Queen’s English, one look into his eyes and at the line of his jaw show a determination for violence that he had simply lacked before.
“No, don’t hate me for those things. Hate me because, at the end of the day? I am talented enough to back up each and every one of those boasts. Pablo will be the first to discover that. He’s good – and he will annoy the dickens out of me with his flash pins – but I am better. Simple facts for simple minds.“
Simplicity is, in many ways, its own art. Why use elaborate pinning holds when you can hit someone in the face?
“I’m not one to dwell on the past – not mine, nor that of my opposition. I could care less about Lion’s Den FC or the people in it. All that I care about is seeing how long Pablo can withstand the most relentless assault that I can manage. No more will I be content to use pretty words to garner attention. Instead, it will be ugly deeds that will be the proof of who Ethan Thompson II is, and the danger that he poses to each and every misbegotten soul who steps into the ring with him. See you in California, Pedro. Lord willing, for you, it will be a brief meeting.”
(Fin.)
And for Ethan Thompson II, it’s home in a way that no other place could be.
“They call it the Garden City,” the man himself says, walking down a street clad in his usual finest – a well-tailored suit with well-polished shoes. “I grew up a few blocks from here. My dad was a bartender at a pub a few blocks away before he became a pro wrestler.”
His dad was Ethan Thompson, the (Cowardly) Lion of Christchurch and (alleged) Knight of the British Empire. His dad was many other things, but all that mattered to Ethan was that his father was. Past tense, now resting comfortably in a cemetery leaving the family to pick up the pieces.
“Gods, why am I even doing this,” he asks, himself as much as those watching. “This is far too sentimental, but it is a piece of who am I, as much as what I do in a ring. This is where I come from. When I was a kid, I harbored fantasy of joining the All Blacks. That never happened, but I’ve had the chance to make my name internationally just like they have.”
Ethan flashes a self-conscious smile. His entire manner is different from the press conference; he’s far less snooty, far less arrogant, and far less in control of himself.
“I wanted you all to see this, though,” Ethan says, taking a deep breath. “I wanted you to see where I came from. To see who I am, because it reveals a simple truth about the world that far too many people simply ignore.”
Ethan’s steady gait stops, and he squares his shoulders. Apparently, he thinks that what he has to say is important.
“Assholes,” Ethan says, with a gleam in his eye, “are people too. We have families, loves, ambitions. We do not spend every waking moment of our days deciding how to make you miserable – it simply comes naturally to us.”
Thompson shrugs offhandedly. For Ethan, being an asshole really is easy as breathing sometimes.
“I am going to arrive in California and show the entire world what I’ve been working on these past three months. My father looked me square in the eyes on his deathbed and challenged me to be better than he ever was. That means nothing but bad things for you all, but above all else? It means that Mexico City’s favorite son is going to be on the receiving end of the sorts of beatings that get written about in epic ballads and, well…Californian police reports.”
Oh yes, he knows his history, too. He’s a well-read little shit.
“So don’t hate me, 3GW, because I’m this ruggedly handsome. Don’t hate me because I have on my arm a woman the likes of which you’d all sacrifice your spleen for. Don’t hate me because I will, in time, European uppercut and otherwise bludgeon my way to the top of this company – and rest assured that while there will be plenty of Glitz, Glamour, and Glory, there will also be a trail of broken noses and faces rubbed into the mat. I promise that much.”
For months, he has trained for this moment – and though his words are soft and spoken in New Zealand-accented Queen’s English, one look into his eyes and at the line of his jaw show a determination for violence that he had simply lacked before.
“No, don’t hate me for those things. Hate me because, at the end of the day? I am talented enough to back up each and every one of those boasts. Pablo will be the first to discover that. He’s good – and he will annoy the dickens out of me with his flash pins – but I am better. Simple facts for simple minds.“
Simplicity is, in many ways, its own art. Why use elaborate pinning holds when you can hit someone in the face?
“I’m not one to dwell on the past – not mine, nor that of my opposition. I could care less about Lion’s Den FC or the people in it. All that I care about is seeing how long Pablo can withstand the most relentless assault that I can manage. No more will I be content to use pretty words to garner attention. Instead, it will be ugly deeds that will be the proof of who Ethan Thompson II is, and the danger that he poses to each and every misbegotten soul who steps into the ring with him. See you in California, Pedro. Lord willing, for you, it will be a brief meeting.”
(Fin.)