Survival of the Fittest
Apr 9, 2016 7:23:24 GMT -5
Post by Lou on Apr 9, 2016 7:23:24 GMT -5
Journal Entry #808
04/09/2016
So much of what I have written about in this journal has revolved around survival. Combating my addictions. The things that made me the horrible person I have been...finding a way through them, over them, whatever it takes to clear my conscious, save my soul, and allow me to be a good father to my son.
But today’s entry isn’t about all that. 808 days clean says I don’t have to write about my weaknesses for one day. Today’s entry needs to be about the only thing that has ever really given me strength: wrestling.
For nearly 16 years now, I’ve spilled all my sweat and all my blood for the sport I love. All in the pursuit of meaningless leather straps and the admiration of a few thousand people an evening who would surely give two shits less about me should I tweet something they don’t agree with or enjoy the occasional episode of Keeping Up with The Kardashians. More than family, more than sex...wrestling is what fuels my entire existence and brings me true joy, and in less than one week, I have an opportunity to pad my stats, etch my name into the record books once again and bolster my ego.
The Gold Rush Rumble.
I know I’m not the favorite to win this thing. There are more likeable names on the entry list: SSTC, Johnny Karma, Jimmy Page, Salem Cartier. All competitors who have been here. All competitors who have really become a part of this place, become household names.
I relish playing the underdog role. I’ve always believed I’m best with the cards stacked against me. A brick wall in my path. It leaves me with one option: flip the damn table over and run through that wall.
My dream has been to win the FGA World Championship. To take my name from being a highly prized commodity on the FGA roster to a well-respected competitor who backed up all that talk and all that past success by leaving his mark on one of the best promotions in the world. I must win the Gold Rush Rumble to get my shot at turning that dream into reality.
.
.
.
Ricky Valero is running. Sweat pours down his bare chest as his Nike training sneakers clap against the dirt and gravel beneath his feet. He’s deep in thought as the music blares into his ears through the buds connected to his iPhone currently strapped to his left bicep.
A lot weighs heavily on his mind today, and everyday really. Most of which has been his own doing, but after months of embattled depression, there seems to be a light at the end of the tunnel.
His tenure in FGA has been strong thus far, and while the Gold Rush Rumble is added stress, it’s welcome stress he basks in. Sure right now, he’s been something of a hermit. Keeping to himself. Focusing. Training. Preparing for what he perceives to be a huge opportunity for him to make his breakthrough, flip FGA on its ear and change the whole landscape as it currently stands.
He clicks the pause button on his iPhone and lets out a deep breath as he continues jogging.
“I can do this,” he whispers to himself. “I will inhale confidence and exhale doubt. I am a survivor, a warrior who has overcome so much, who continues to overcome so much...Everything I do, it’s not just for me. It’s not just to better myself. It’s to make a better life for my son. For my family...Sal, Angelina, Abi, Dom, Nick, Frankie...to shed the negative image our parents made for us, and to build one others can look fondly upon the Valero name with.”
The path takes a sharp hook through a trail of overhanging trees that block out the sunlight with the exception of a few small gaps here and there. He reminisces about his parents. Now both deceased, there was a time, though brief, when they loved Ricky and his siblings. Him and Sal, at least anyway. Angelina was still a baby when they abandoned her and Ricky in the Staten Island neighborhood of Stapleton one November afternoon. Sal was long gone, and Ricky was forced to fend for himself and his three-year-old sister.
They made it out. They bounced from relative to relative, but nothing ever felt like home. Rejected and looking for an outlet, Ricky’s addiction to painkillers and cocaine started when he was just a junior in high school. Anything he could stick up his nose, he would.
“You don’t have to be what your parents were,” he continues. “You’re better than them. Smarter than them. Stronger than them. Their example is of what you never want to be. Never WILL be.”
For him every victory in the ring was a victory in life. But he had learned that even positive things can develop into a dangerous addiction--at least he had learned this recently. His desperate desire to be loved by the fans and to be triumphant inside the squared circle had become a dark part of him and cast aside his own family...his late ex-wife, his own seven-year-old son, and his ex-girlfriend Mayu Ito. All of the great things in his life had become secondary to wrestling. And he knows, though wrestling had been his first love, that there were so many more important things in life he had left behind for too long.
None had ever made him realize it the way his breakup with Mayu did though. That span from July 8th to February 16th had been the best of his life. She had shown him the world and its purpose outside the ring. For the first time, he had met his match in a counterpart, and she forced him to be a man.
“You are not perfect, and that’s OKAY. Nobody is. We all make mistakes. What’s important is that you learn from them. Learn from them and grow. Learn to forgive and understand that others need time to forgive you as well. Learn to understand that not all friends or loved ones will forgive you. What you did to Mayu...how you treated Jessica, your brother, even your son...they are not obligated to forgive you if they choose not to. Accept it and move on like an adult. Love life, in the good and the bad, and appreciate each moment for its uniqueness.”
Ricky had found that infusing more positivity into his life, even having conversations with himself like this, did so much for his mood. It eased his pains and combated the temptations that still haunted him over two years since kicking his drug habit. Having now also dropped alcohol, the temptation had come back full force, but he was surviving.
“You are great,” he whispers once more. “And whether it’s in the ring, in a relationship, in fatherhood, or just in life, you must never quit. You must never give up no matter how hard things get. You are great, Ricky...just keep fighting for everything you believe in.”
Finally, he stops running. Breathing heavily, he lifts his hands over his head and walks a few steps as he admires the wooded scenery that surrounds him.
As his eyes set back on the path, he sees his ex-girlfriend Mayu waiting for him at the end of the trail backlit by the sunlight peering out from beyond the trees. His stomach does a full 630° senton into his lower intestines and bursts into butterflies that send tingles throughout his body. He smiles as their eyes meet and starts jogging toward her. He can’t help but adore her gentle features and the way her personality pops even as she just stands there. There is an unmistakable air about her though, he can sense it as he draws closer, the nervous awkwardness. The not-so-hidden insecurities that struggle to stay burrowed within her cheeks.
He can tell she wants to be more with him. She wants things to be like they were before. Before he cheated. Before he lied. Before he left her. But she’s not ready to trust him again just yet. That kills him inside.
He loves her, and he’s going to do everything he can to make her happy again.
.
.
.
(rec)
Wearing an Annie Zellor "GRRRRRRRFACE" t-shirt, Ricky Valero appears on screen with his trademark smirk stretched across his face. Perched atop the railing from the patio of his suite at The Hotel Hershey, he is looking out across the courtyard.
“I think Ernest Hemingway said it best when he wrote ‘The world breaks everyone, and afterward, many are strong at the broken places.’ The Gold Rush Rumble is a test of willpower. It tests how far one can bend, pushes them to the limit and then sees how much further they’re willing to go. It’s merciless. Unforgiving. And though everyone might enter with the same odds, only the most talented, most determined competitors have a real chance.”
He sweeps his legs from atop the railing and drops down to the concrete patio. We follow him over a nearby chair, where he takes a seat, slouched back deep with a bottle of water in hand.
“But at the end of it all, when every other competitor has been eliminated from the ring, only one remains. Strong. Triumphant. Victorious. Broken? Certainly. But that person’s resiliency, their heart, their dissatisfaction with anything less than conquest in one of the most challenging moments of their career is what drives them. It’s what enables them to stand tall--or at least taller than those who’ve departed the ring--and take pride in what they’ve endured, what they’ve overcome, and the strength they gained in such a grueling, demanding contest.
In the company of those who will join me inside that ring, it’s going to take everything I have and more. I know that. One look at the list of individuals competing in the Gold Rush Rumble should leave everyone in awe. It’s stacked. And with everyone vying for a shot at the FGA World Championship, you just know it’s going to be a warzone from the first bell.
Going in, I don’t think I’m a major favorite. Even with the tag gold around my waist, there are others I guess folks see as better options. I can appreciate that. Coming off a loss to Johnny Cannon, all momentum I wanted to have rolling into this thing with an undefeated record was squandered. Regardless of how he beat me, he did beat me. Cannon is one of 29 opponents I must overcome, and that loss gives him the upper hand on paper. There are others in this match with more to support their ensuing claims for why they will win. Former champs, current champs, rising stars, imposing mammoths and ticking time bombs...everyone has a story and we’re all homed in on the same target.
There’s something special about flying under the radar...not having quite as big a bullseye on your back. Sure, everyone in that match will be looking to toss me out, but their focus is going to square on the big dogs from the get go. The Jimmy Pages, Tony Carmines, etc. etc. Those seem to be the people most feared in this match for one reason another. The two I mentioned specifically, because one’s an unpredictable psychopath and the other because of the brotherhood he’s constructed. SSTC was good alone, but with Cannon and Danny Diamond behind him, he looks near unstoppable. But as with all strong forces, one of those members HAS to be the leader, and there might come a point in this rumble when that person comes to light, and I have a feeling the other two aren’t going to take nicely to their perceived position on the totem pole.”
He smirks.
“Everything’s a numbers game once you step into a match like this. Obviously, having comrades can be beneficial. But the first moment you think someone has your back is the very moment they’ll swing the knife, and then, it’s too late for you. Friendships mean nothing within the confines of the squared circle. Everyone wants a shot at the FGA World Championship, and I promise you, they will do everything they can to make it happen for themselves. That’s life. When shit’s hit the fan and you got a family starving at home, NOTHING should ever stand in your way.
It should be never different for anyone inside that ring during the Gold Rush Rumble. We’re all hungry. We all gotta eat. Whoever wants it the most is the one who will jump through every hoop and do everything imagine and unimaginable--no matter how ruthless it might be. No matter who you must take out in the process. SSTC knows that. He’s hoping Cannon and Diamond know that. Luke Jackson better know that. You hope they understand it’s nothing personal against them, but at the end of the day, you’re not going to sleep without food in your belly.
I have a big appetite. I’m not happy with just being Tag Team Champ, and I won’t be happy with lasting long in the rumble. I’ve established myself here. Now, it’s time to take the next step forward. It’s time to ante up and get the hell up that ladder more quickly than others expected. It’s time to firmly entrench myself as one of the best in FGA and contend for the gold that brought me here in the first place.
For a minute, I lost sight of that. I think I got a little complacent, felt a little good about myself because Luke and I were carrying belts. But that loss to Cannon two weeks ago...that was the bitchslap I needed. A wake-up call to refocus. To push harder, to push further, and keep pushing with that title shot now within my grasps...and the grasps of 29 other competitors.”
He chuckles.
“No one ever said anything in life was easy. And dammit, if I’m going to win this rumble I know it’s not going to be easy. All that talent...man, all that talent in this match.”
He shakes his head, a little bit in awe as he goes through his foes in his head.
“Just about anyone can win. Having been in this business as long as I have been now, I know how it important it is to win. I know what it means to be the top dog in a company of this stature. I know how quickly such an achievement can elevate someone who may have been a nobody one night prior and in a few short months, before you ever even know it, that person is the “IT” grappler in the sport.”
He scoffs, shaking his head once more.
“Some would call them an ‘overnight sensation’, but I’ve never liked that term. It’s not that person’s fault others were too blind to see that greatness was right in front of them. Sometimes a great competitor merely doesn’t get the opportunity to gain the spotlight, but when they’re put in a position, like the one I find myself with at the Gold Rush Rumble, they seize it, they cherish it, they hold it close and they SHINE. The Gold Rush Rumble is my chance to shine. It’s my chance to capture the spotlight, place all eyes on me and leave them with no doubt: Ricky Valero is exactly what he said he was when he first got here.
I told you I was one of the best to ever grace a wrestling ring. I told you that I knew the best talent in the world wrestled for FGA, and that if I was going to continue to stake my claim as one of the best in the world, I was going to need to prove it amongst the best here. I also told you that I WOULD prove it. I told you there would be NO doubt by the time I was done, that I knew it would take some time to do it, but dammit, I’d be at the top of the ladder before any of you ever even knew it.”
Valero cracks a slight grin before clearing his throat.
“Say hello to ‘before you knew it’. Say hello to ‘you never saw it coming’. The underdog you all never projected would make an impact so quickly, I’m standing right here. And maybe others feel I shouldn’t even show up. There have to be a few out there, right? It definitely feels that way. Karma, Page, SSTC, Salem Cartier, Savannah Taylor...one of them probably has this in the bag, right? Pack it up and head back to Manhattan, right?”
He snickers.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to back down. Because while I might not have the odds in my favor, I thrive off the disrespect of my detractors. My career has been defined by doubt. By those who didn’t believe I could accomplish what I set out to do. Sure, there were times when I failed, but more often than not, I leaped every obstacle en route to triumph. I did it here in FGA in less than two months time. No one believed Luke and I could overcome our differences. And for anyone who knows our history, you know we have a lot of differences. Still, we linked up in the Deuces Wild Tag Team Tournament. We remained a cohesive unit throughout and we stand proudly before you today as the reigning, defending FGA World Tag Team Champions! We’ve had our issues, too, but we’re better friends than ever before and the tag team division has been put on notice: we are not a team to take lightly!
I’m sure there are others going into this match who feel the same way I do. There are plenty of darkhorse candidates we would all be idiots to discount going in. Aries Reed and GRENDEL have certainly made their presence felt. I wouldn’t sleep on Fujiko Mine. Izzy Anders too. Yun Goeun, Annie Zellor, Molly Reid, and even the surprise entrants of PGR and TGH. They all have a bone to pick in this one. They all have a horse in this race. And just like me, they have the benefit of playing the underdog. Flying under the radar and keeping a low profile heading in. Hell, Cami D, K-Hard, Ruby Tyler, Mark Storm, Nero and Nero Darling, Chris Vector, Arik Blayde, Zorro del Castillo and Sara Cochran are in this match, too. Evangelista is making her return. Who knows? We all have good reasons to be confident despite that. I just think I have a better shot than the rest of them--no matter when I enter this match.
So let the fools in this match overlook me. Let them set their sights on eliminating the individuals they deem to be their greatest threats. Me, I’m there to survive and I’m there to win. That means eliminating everyone who stands in my path and doing everything I possibly can to ensure I myself remain in the ring and never allow someone get the drop on me and send me over the top ropes. If we’re being blunt, there’s nothing on paper that distinguishes me from anyone else. These types of matches are unpredictable and as such, it’s everyone’s match to lose. One simple mistake. One inkling of remorse for something you must do, and you can forget about it. You’re done. Finished. And that FGA World Championship is that much further from ever truly resting in your hands.”
He says while motioning with his hands out in front of him as if he is holding the title belt this very moment.
“I’ve devoted my life to this sport. Given it everything I have ever had and more to achieve so much. All that drives me is the touch of leather around my waist or resting on my shoulder, those gold plates shining in the spotlights and sparkling with the pyrotechnics. I will leave no room for error. It doesn’t matter to me whether I walk in there #1 or #30, I MUST leave the winner. I MUST leave with a shot at the FGA World Champion at All-Star Showdown V in my pocket. There simply is no other option.”
“And I’m ready.”
With a wink and a smirk, we fade to black.
04/09/2016
So much of what I have written about in this journal has revolved around survival. Combating my addictions. The things that made me the horrible person I have been...finding a way through them, over them, whatever it takes to clear my conscious, save my soul, and allow me to be a good father to my son.
But today’s entry isn’t about all that. 808 days clean says I don’t have to write about my weaknesses for one day. Today’s entry needs to be about the only thing that has ever really given me strength: wrestling.
For nearly 16 years now, I’ve spilled all my sweat and all my blood for the sport I love. All in the pursuit of meaningless leather straps and the admiration of a few thousand people an evening who would surely give two shits less about me should I tweet something they don’t agree with or enjoy the occasional episode of Keeping Up with The Kardashians. More than family, more than sex...wrestling is what fuels my entire existence and brings me true joy, and in less than one week, I have an opportunity to pad my stats, etch my name into the record books once again and bolster my ego.
The Gold Rush Rumble.
I know I’m not the favorite to win this thing. There are more likeable names on the entry list: SSTC, Johnny Karma, Jimmy Page, Salem Cartier. All competitors who have been here. All competitors who have really become a part of this place, become household names.
I relish playing the underdog role. I’ve always believed I’m best with the cards stacked against me. A brick wall in my path. It leaves me with one option: flip the damn table over and run through that wall.
My dream has been to win the FGA World Championship. To take my name from being a highly prized commodity on the FGA roster to a well-respected competitor who backed up all that talk and all that past success by leaving his mark on one of the best promotions in the world. I must win the Gold Rush Rumble to get my shot at turning that dream into reality.
.
.
.
Ricky Valero is running. Sweat pours down his bare chest as his Nike training sneakers clap against the dirt and gravel beneath his feet. He’s deep in thought as the music blares into his ears through the buds connected to his iPhone currently strapped to his left bicep.
A lot weighs heavily on his mind today, and everyday really. Most of which has been his own doing, but after months of embattled depression, there seems to be a light at the end of the tunnel.
His tenure in FGA has been strong thus far, and while the Gold Rush Rumble is added stress, it’s welcome stress he basks in. Sure right now, he’s been something of a hermit. Keeping to himself. Focusing. Training. Preparing for what he perceives to be a huge opportunity for him to make his breakthrough, flip FGA on its ear and change the whole landscape as it currently stands.
He clicks the pause button on his iPhone and lets out a deep breath as he continues jogging.
“I can do this,” he whispers to himself. “I will inhale confidence and exhale doubt. I am a survivor, a warrior who has overcome so much, who continues to overcome so much...Everything I do, it’s not just for me. It’s not just to better myself. It’s to make a better life for my son. For my family...Sal, Angelina, Abi, Dom, Nick, Frankie...to shed the negative image our parents made for us, and to build one others can look fondly upon the Valero name with.”
The path takes a sharp hook through a trail of overhanging trees that block out the sunlight with the exception of a few small gaps here and there. He reminisces about his parents. Now both deceased, there was a time, though brief, when they loved Ricky and his siblings. Him and Sal, at least anyway. Angelina was still a baby when they abandoned her and Ricky in the Staten Island neighborhood of Stapleton one November afternoon. Sal was long gone, and Ricky was forced to fend for himself and his three-year-old sister.
They made it out. They bounced from relative to relative, but nothing ever felt like home. Rejected and looking for an outlet, Ricky’s addiction to painkillers and cocaine started when he was just a junior in high school. Anything he could stick up his nose, he would.
“You don’t have to be what your parents were,” he continues. “You’re better than them. Smarter than them. Stronger than them. Their example is of what you never want to be. Never WILL be.”
For him every victory in the ring was a victory in life. But he had learned that even positive things can develop into a dangerous addiction--at least he had learned this recently. His desperate desire to be loved by the fans and to be triumphant inside the squared circle had become a dark part of him and cast aside his own family...his late ex-wife, his own seven-year-old son, and his ex-girlfriend Mayu Ito. All of the great things in his life had become secondary to wrestling. And he knows, though wrestling had been his first love, that there were so many more important things in life he had left behind for too long.
None had ever made him realize it the way his breakup with Mayu did though. That span from July 8th to February 16th had been the best of his life. She had shown him the world and its purpose outside the ring. For the first time, he had met his match in a counterpart, and she forced him to be a man.
“You are not perfect, and that’s OKAY. Nobody is. We all make mistakes. What’s important is that you learn from them. Learn from them and grow. Learn to forgive and understand that others need time to forgive you as well. Learn to understand that not all friends or loved ones will forgive you. What you did to Mayu...how you treated Jessica, your brother, even your son...they are not obligated to forgive you if they choose not to. Accept it and move on like an adult. Love life, in the good and the bad, and appreciate each moment for its uniqueness.”
Ricky had found that infusing more positivity into his life, even having conversations with himself like this, did so much for his mood. It eased his pains and combated the temptations that still haunted him over two years since kicking his drug habit. Having now also dropped alcohol, the temptation had come back full force, but he was surviving.
“You are great,” he whispers once more. “And whether it’s in the ring, in a relationship, in fatherhood, or just in life, you must never quit. You must never give up no matter how hard things get. You are great, Ricky...just keep fighting for everything you believe in.”
Finally, he stops running. Breathing heavily, he lifts his hands over his head and walks a few steps as he admires the wooded scenery that surrounds him.
As his eyes set back on the path, he sees his ex-girlfriend Mayu waiting for him at the end of the trail backlit by the sunlight peering out from beyond the trees. His stomach does a full 630° senton into his lower intestines and bursts into butterflies that send tingles throughout his body. He smiles as their eyes meet and starts jogging toward her. He can’t help but adore her gentle features and the way her personality pops even as she just stands there. There is an unmistakable air about her though, he can sense it as he draws closer, the nervous awkwardness. The not-so-hidden insecurities that struggle to stay burrowed within her cheeks.
He can tell she wants to be more with him. She wants things to be like they were before. Before he cheated. Before he lied. Before he left her. But she’s not ready to trust him again just yet. That kills him inside.
He loves her, and he’s going to do everything he can to make her happy again.
.
.
.
(rec)
Wearing an Annie Zellor "GRRRRRRRFACE" t-shirt, Ricky Valero appears on screen with his trademark smirk stretched across his face. Perched atop the railing from the patio of his suite at The Hotel Hershey, he is looking out across the courtyard.
“I think Ernest Hemingway said it best when he wrote ‘The world breaks everyone, and afterward, many are strong at the broken places.’ The Gold Rush Rumble is a test of willpower. It tests how far one can bend, pushes them to the limit and then sees how much further they’re willing to go. It’s merciless. Unforgiving. And though everyone might enter with the same odds, only the most talented, most determined competitors have a real chance.”
He sweeps his legs from atop the railing and drops down to the concrete patio. We follow him over a nearby chair, where he takes a seat, slouched back deep with a bottle of water in hand.
“But at the end of it all, when every other competitor has been eliminated from the ring, only one remains. Strong. Triumphant. Victorious. Broken? Certainly. But that person’s resiliency, their heart, their dissatisfaction with anything less than conquest in one of the most challenging moments of their career is what drives them. It’s what enables them to stand tall--or at least taller than those who’ve departed the ring--and take pride in what they’ve endured, what they’ve overcome, and the strength they gained in such a grueling, demanding contest.
In the company of those who will join me inside that ring, it’s going to take everything I have and more. I know that. One look at the list of individuals competing in the Gold Rush Rumble should leave everyone in awe. It’s stacked. And with everyone vying for a shot at the FGA World Championship, you just know it’s going to be a warzone from the first bell.
Going in, I don’t think I’m a major favorite. Even with the tag gold around my waist, there are others I guess folks see as better options. I can appreciate that. Coming off a loss to Johnny Cannon, all momentum I wanted to have rolling into this thing with an undefeated record was squandered. Regardless of how he beat me, he did beat me. Cannon is one of 29 opponents I must overcome, and that loss gives him the upper hand on paper. There are others in this match with more to support their ensuing claims for why they will win. Former champs, current champs, rising stars, imposing mammoths and ticking time bombs...everyone has a story and we’re all homed in on the same target.
There’s something special about flying under the radar...not having quite as big a bullseye on your back. Sure, everyone in that match will be looking to toss me out, but their focus is going to square on the big dogs from the get go. The Jimmy Pages, Tony Carmines, etc. etc. Those seem to be the people most feared in this match for one reason another. The two I mentioned specifically, because one’s an unpredictable psychopath and the other because of the brotherhood he’s constructed. SSTC was good alone, but with Cannon and Danny Diamond behind him, he looks near unstoppable. But as with all strong forces, one of those members HAS to be the leader, and there might come a point in this rumble when that person comes to light, and I have a feeling the other two aren’t going to take nicely to their perceived position on the totem pole.”
He smirks.
“Everything’s a numbers game once you step into a match like this. Obviously, having comrades can be beneficial. But the first moment you think someone has your back is the very moment they’ll swing the knife, and then, it’s too late for you. Friendships mean nothing within the confines of the squared circle. Everyone wants a shot at the FGA World Championship, and I promise you, they will do everything they can to make it happen for themselves. That’s life. When shit’s hit the fan and you got a family starving at home, NOTHING should ever stand in your way.
It should be never different for anyone inside that ring during the Gold Rush Rumble. We’re all hungry. We all gotta eat. Whoever wants it the most is the one who will jump through every hoop and do everything imagine and unimaginable--no matter how ruthless it might be. No matter who you must take out in the process. SSTC knows that. He’s hoping Cannon and Diamond know that. Luke Jackson better know that. You hope they understand it’s nothing personal against them, but at the end of the day, you’re not going to sleep without food in your belly.
I have a big appetite. I’m not happy with just being Tag Team Champ, and I won’t be happy with lasting long in the rumble. I’ve established myself here. Now, it’s time to take the next step forward. It’s time to ante up and get the hell up that ladder more quickly than others expected. It’s time to firmly entrench myself as one of the best in FGA and contend for the gold that brought me here in the first place.
For a minute, I lost sight of that. I think I got a little complacent, felt a little good about myself because Luke and I were carrying belts. But that loss to Cannon two weeks ago...that was the bitchslap I needed. A wake-up call to refocus. To push harder, to push further, and keep pushing with that title shot now within my grasps...and the grasps of 29 other competitors.”
He chuckles.
“No one ever said anything in life was easy. And dammit, if I’m going to win this rumble I know it’s not going to be easy. All that talent...man, all that talent in this match.”
He shakes his head, a little bit in awe as he goes through his foes in his head.
“Just about anyone can win. Having been in this business as long as I have been now, I know how it important it is to win. I know what it means to be the top dog in a company of this stature. I know how quickly such an achievement can elevate someone who may have been a nobody one night prior and in a few short months, before you ever even know it, that person is the “IT” grappler in the sport.”
He scoffs, shaking his head once more.
“Some would call them an ‘overnight sensation’, but I’ve never liked that term. It’s not that person’s fault others were too blind to see that greatness was right in front of them. Sometimes a great competitor merely doesn’t get the opportunity to gain the spotlight, but when they’re put in a position, like the one I find myself with at the Gold Rush Rumble, they seize it, they cherish it, they hold it close and they SHINE. The Gold Rush Rumble is my chance to shine. It’s my chance to capture the spotlight, place all eyes on me and leave them with no doubt: Ricky Valero is exactly what he said he was when he first got here.
I told you I was one of the best to ever grace a wrestling ring. I told you that I knew the best talent in the world wrestled for FGA, and that if I was going to continue to stake my claim as one of the best in the world, I was going to need to prove it amongst the best here. I also told you that I WOULD prove it. I told you there would be NO doubt by the time I was done, that I knew it would take some time to do it, but dammit, I’d be at the top of the ladder before any of you ever even knew it.”
Valero cracks a slight grin before clearing his throat.
“Say hello to ‘before you knew it’. Say hello to ‘you never saw it coming’. The underdog you all never projected would make an impact so quickly, I’m standing right here. And maybe others feel I shouldn’t even show up. There have to be a few out there, right? It definitely feels that way. Karma, Page, SSTC, Salem Cartier, Savannah Taylor...one of them probably has this in the bag, right? Pack it up and head back to Manhattan, right?”
He snickers.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to back down. Because while I might not have the odds in my favor, I thrive off the disrespect of my detractors. My career has been defined by doubt. By those who didn’t believe I could accomplish what I set out to do. Sure, there were times when I failed, but more often than not, I leaped every obstacle en route to triumph. I did it here in FGA in less than two months time. No one believed Luke and I could overcome our differences. And for anyone who knows our history, you know we have a lot of differences. Still, we linked up in the Deuces Wild Tag Team Tournament. We remained a cohesive unit throughout and we stand proudly before you today as the reigning, defending FGA World Tag Team Champions! We’ve had our issues, too, but we’re better friends than ever before and the tag team division has been put on notice: we are not a team to take lightly!
I’m sure there are others going into this match who feel the same way I do. There are plenty of darkhorse candidates we would all be idiots to discount going in. Aries Reed and GRENDEL have certainly made their presence felt. I wouldn’t sleep on Fujiko Mine. Izzy Anders too. Yun Goeun, Annie Zellor, Molly Reid, and even the surprise entrants of PGR and TGH. They all have a bone to pick in this one. They all have a horse in this race. And just like me, they have the benefit of playing the underdog. Flying under the radar and keeping a low profile heading in. Hell, Cami D, K-Hard, Ruby Tyler, Mark Storm, Nero and Nero Darling, Chris Vector, Arik Blayde, Zorro del Castillo and Sara Cochran are in this match, too. Evangelista is making her return. Who knows? We all have good reasons to be confident despite that. I just think I have a better shot than the rest of them--no matter when I enter this match.
So let the fools in this match overlook me. Let them set their sights on eliminating the individuals they deem to be their greatest threats. Me, I’m there to survive and I’m there to win. That means eliminating everyone who stands in my path and doing everything I possibly can to ensure I myself remain in the ring and never allow someone get the drop on me and send me over the top ropes. If we’re being blunt, there’s nothing on paper that distinguishes me from anyone else. These types of matches are unpredictable and as such, it’s everyone’s match to lose. One simple mistake. One inkling of remorse for something you must do, and you can forget about it. You’re done. Finished. And that FGA World Championship is that much further from ever truly resting in your hands.”
He says while motioning with his hands out in front of him as if he is holding the title belt this very moment.
“I’ve devoted my life to this sport. Given it everything I have ever had and more to achieve so much. All that drives me is the touch of leather around my waist or resting on my shoulder, those gold plates shining in the spotlights and sparkling with the pyrotechnics. I will leave no room for error. It doesn’t matter to me whether I walk in there #1 or #30, I MUST leave the winner. I MUST leave with a shot at the FGA World Champion at All-Star Showdown V in my pocket. There simply is no other option.”
IT’S GAME TIME BABY!
“And I’m ready.”
With a wink and a smirk, we fade to black.