Post by Teeps on Mar 11, 2022 15:07:57 GMT -5
Stepping from his private chartered plane at Halifax Stanfield airport, Chris Card notes the pre-organized camera crew filming his arrival and takes a long, slow breath of the cool Canadian air. He strides confident down the steps onto his metaphorical native soil. Card takes a slow, deliberate walk towards the crew and unconsciously flattens out a couple of creases from the arms of his tailored suit. Card addresses the camera directly, as if speaking to his fans.
Chris Card: I’m home.
There is a note of pride in Card’s voice. Not forced, not fake, at least ot so the viewer could tell. Card has always kept his emotions exceptionally close to his chest so it’s difficult to tell if he is being genuine at any moment. Maybe this time he is.
Chris Card: Halifax, Nova Scotia how I have missed you. There’s nothing better than finishing a world spanning tour, wrestling in front of an appreciative crowd in the Orient and… a crowd in New York, nothing better at all than coming home to Hallington with the title I have been defending. It’s one thing to claim you’re the best. It’s a different kettle of Nova Scotian fresh caught Atlantic Salmon to prove it.
Card slides a leather bag off his shoulder and unzips it, sliding out the CWA World Heavyweight Championship. He lifts it up and holds it, plate directly facing into the camera.
Chris Card: I rarely claim my own greatness. That line of thinking leads to complacency, it leads to a dulling of your wrestling intuition. The second you think you’re unbeatable you are at your very most vulnerable. People tell me that I’m the best wrestler in the world every day of my life. I’m not. There are a thousand wrestlers in a thousand federations. Scrapping and fighting to get noticed in high school gyms and armouries or headlining the biggest football stadiums, in traditional strongholds of wrestling like Mexico and Japan or being the biggest fish in a small pond in emerging markets. I cannot claim to be the best because I cannot guarantee it and I deal in certainties.
Card thrusts the belt forwards, jabbing its glistening plate forwards.
Chris Card: But this belt? It tells you that at this present time, at this present moment I am the best wrestler across the CWA Network. I’m not overstating my own excellence in order to unsettle a future opponent and I’m certainly not doing it to inflate my own ego. This belt marks me out as the best, right here, right now. And that should, theoretically, command a modicum of respect.
Sliding the belt carefully back into the bag, Card clears his throat and continues, his tone metered, slow. Cold as ever as if his veins ran with pure ice.
Chris Card: And yet all I’ve heard is the clamouring of upstarts and wannabes. All wanting to be the next at bat to swing for my 10 lbs of gold. I’ve had to listen to people who have not EARNED a shot tell me directly that they’re coming for me. There is quite a queue forming for people who would like a shot at my title. Some legitimate, some not so much. Well, children, let me explain something to you. Don’t target me when you haven’t earned the right to face me. Work hard on earning that shot. The challenge lies in front of you. And if you look over its shoulder at me? You’re going to fail the challenge you actually have.
Card takes pause for a second to produce a monogrammed silver case from his pocket, flip it open and carefully slide out a cigar. He places it to his lips and reaches into his pockets for his cigar cutter snips the end off of the Cuban. Finally Card swaps his cutter for a Zippo and uses the ligther to fire up the end, taking a couple of quick puffs to get it going.
Chris Card: Jeff Stevens. I never usually give advice for free. But I like you, kid. So consider what would have been idle wrestling chatter at the majority of people as genuine food for thought. You were born to be a champion. You have the genetics. the training, the raw talent. Everything a wrestler should have. But does that give you the RIGHT to hold my title belt. No. There’s only two things that gives you that right.
With the Cigar in his right hand, Card holds his left hand out, fist balled up before slowly extending his index finger skywards.
Chris Card: One, pinning me.
And then his middle finger, placed closely enough to the first so as not to be misinterpreted as a peace sign.
Chris Card: Two, submitting me.
Card places his hand back by his side and takes a long draw on the cigar, puffing out the smoke into the Halifax air.
Chris Card: So every second… scratch that every MILLISECOND of time you spend thinking about what you’re going to do with that belt after you’ve won it is time wasted. Never presume you’re going to win a match. I don’t. I go in with the full knowledge that I can lose and I take steps to avoid that. I have plans upon plans that I can execute and I’m not afraid to call an audible if I see something that I can exploit. If my weeks of careful study of an opponent is proving ineffective, I have the capability to improvise and maybe my strongest suit is that to the viewer, I love you guys but you’re not able to tell what was actually part of the plan from the very beginning.
The tone gets a little less avuncular, a little more serious as Card continues.
Chris Card: Ask Rob Riot how good I am at your catch-as-catch-can sty le of wrestling. How very…
Dramatic pause.
Chris Card: …VERY frustrating trying to out wrestle Chris Card is. Ask him about the counters, the reversals, the escapes. Ask him about how hard it is to maintain control against someone with as much experience in combat sports as I have. Ask him about what happens about going hold for hold with a man who earned the nickname “Technical Perfection.” I wasn’t born this way, Jay. I worked hard to get it. And I’m not stopping working hard to improve myself every single day.
Now Card picks up the pace a little, getting a little head of steam behind his words. It’s not nervousness or agitation, it’s merely that in order to make a point sometimes you just have to let the thoughts flow and these are gushing forth like a river.
Chris Card: Every moment of your life has primed you to win a championship. I have no doubt, not one single doubt that the time will come when you will. But is this your time? Well, that’s all going to be decided in the ring. But if you think for one second I’m going to hold anything back, and think for a few seconds on what THAT means, because I see all this potential in you then you’re going to get a long hard dose of reality. It wouldn’t be proper or ethical to go easy on you, Jay. This is professional wrestling. We learn through trials. And you may think I’m the biggest challenge you’ve ever faced but trust me, nothing, NOTHING will prepare you for that first meeting of my foot with your ribcage.
Card raises a knee as if to throw a kick but stops himself, not wanting to mess the line of his suit up. The force which he throws his leg around is far more used to wrestling tights or loose MMA shorts. Maybe a Gi.
Chris Card: You’re coming into my home stadium, wrestling my style and trying to win what is currently my belt. I am going to walk down Barrington, turn left up Argyll and walk through the doors of the Met and later than night we are going to have the best damn match of your career. And when my fans are cheering for the result, win or lose I will shake your hand. Because we Haligonians know how to treat our guests.
Card drops into his full East Coast accent to finish the promo.
Chris Card: We’ll be talkin’
Chris Card: I’m home.
There is a note of pride in Card’s voice. Not forced, not fake, at least ot so the viewer could tell. Card has always kept his emotions exceptionally close to his chest so it’s difficult to tell if he is being genuine at any moment. Maybe this time he is.
Chris Card: Halifax, Nova Scotia how I have missed you. There’s nothing better than finishing a world spanning tour, wrestling in front of an appreciative crowd in the Orient and… a crowd in New York, nothing better at all than coming home to Hallington with the title I have been defending. It’s one thing to claim you’re the best. It’s a different kettle of Nova Scotian fresh caught Atlantic Salmon to prove it.
Card slides a leather bag off his shoulder and unzips it, sliding out the CWA World Heavyweight Championship. He lifts it up and holds it, plate directly facing into the camera.
Chris Card: I rarely claim my own greatness. That line of thinking leads to complacency, it leads to a dulling of your wrestling intuition. The second you think you’re unbeatable you are at your very most vulnerable. People tell me that I’m the best wrestler in the world every day of my life. I’m not. There are a thousand wrestlers in a thousand federations. Scrapping and fighting to get noticed in high school gyms and armouries or headlining the biggest football stadiums, in traditional strongholds of wrestling like Mexico and Japan or being the biggest fish in a small pond in emerging markets. I cannot claim to be the best because I cannot guarantee it and I deal in certainties.
Card thrusts the belt forwards, jabbing its glistening plate forwards.
Chris Card: But this belt? It tells you that at this present time, at this present moment I am the best wrestler across the CWA Network. I’m not overstating my own excellence in order to unsettle a future opponent and I’m certainly not doing it to inflate my own ego. This belt marks me out as the best, right here, right now. And that should, theoretically, command a modicum of respect.
Sliding the belt carefully back into the bag, Card clears his throat and continues, his tone metered, slow. Cold as ever as if his veins ran with pure ice.
Chris Card: And yet all I’ve heard is the clamouring of upstarts and wannabes. All wanting to be the next at bat to swing for my 10 lbs of gold. I’ve had to listen to people who have not EARNED a shot tell me directly that they’re coming for me. There is quite a queue forming for people who would like a shot at my title. Some legitimate, some not so much. Well, children, let me explain something to you. Don’t target me when you haven’t earned the right to face me. Work hard on earning that shot. The challenge lies in front of you. And if you look over its shoulder at me? You’re going to fail the challenge you actually have.
Card takes pause for a second to produce a monogrammed silver case from his pocket, flip it open and carefully slide out a cigar. He places it to his lips and reaches into his pockets for his cigar cutter snips the end off of the Cuban. Finally Card swaps his cutter for a Zippo and uses the ligther to fire up the end, taking a couple of quick puffs to get it going.
Chris Card: Jeff Stevens. I never usually give advice for free. But I like you, kid. So consider what would have been idle wrestling chatter at the majority of people as genuine food for thought. You were born to be a champion. You have the genetics. the training, the raw talent. Everything a wrestler should have. But does that give you the RIGHT to hold my title belt. No. There’s only two things that gives you that right.
With the Cigar in his right hand, Card holds his left hand out, fist balled up before slowly extending his index finger skywards.
Chris Card: One, pinning me.
And then his middle finger, placed closely enough to the first so as not to be misinterpreted as a peace sign.
Chris Card: Two, submitting me.
Card places his hand back by his side and takes a long draw on the cigar, puffing out the smoke into the Halifax air.
Chris Card: So every second… scratch that every MILLISECOND of time you spend thinking about what you’re going to do with that belt after you’ve won it is time wasted. Never presume you’re going to win a match. I don’t. I go in with the full knowledge that I can lose and I take steps to avoid that. I have plans upon plans that I can execute and I’m not afraid to call an audible if I see something that I can exploit. If my weeks of careful study of an opponent is proving ineffective, I have the capability to improvise and maybe my strongest suit is that to the viewer, I love you guys but you’re not able to tell what was actually part of the plan from the very beginning.
The tone gets a little less avuncular, a little more serious as Card continues.
Chris Card: Ask Rob Riot how good I am at your catch-as-catch-can sty le of wrestling. How very…
Dramatic pause.
Chris Card: …VERY frustrating trying to out wrestle Chris Card is. Ask him about the counters, the reversals, the escapes. Ask him about how hard it is to maintain control against someone with as much experience in combat sports as I have. Ask him about what happens about going hold for hold with a man who earned the nickname “Technical Perfection.” I wasn’t born this way, Jay. I worked hard to get it. And I’m not stopping working hard to improve myself every single day.
Now Card picks up the pace a little, getting a little head of steam behind his words. It’s not nervousness or agitation, it’s merely that in order to make a point sometimes you just have to let the thoughts flow and these are gushing forth like a river.
Chris Card: Every moment of your life has primed you to win a championship. I have no doubt, not one single doubt that the time will come when you will. But is this your time? Well, that’s all going to be decided in the ring. But if you think for one second I’m going to hold anything back, and think for a few seconds on what THAT means, because I see all this potential in you then you’re going to get a long hard dose of reality. It wouldn’t be proper or ethical to go easy on you, Jay. This is professional wrestling. We learn through trials. And you may think I’m the biggest challenge you’ve ever faced but trust me, nothing, NOTHING will prepare you for that first meeting of my foot with your ribcage.
Card raises a knee as if to throw a kick but stops himself, not wanting to mess the line of his suit up. The force which he throws his leg around is far more used to wrestling tights or loose MMA shorts. Maybe a Gi.
Chris Card: You’re coming into my home stadium, wrestling my style and trying to win what is currently my belt. I am going to walk down Barrington, turn left up Argyll and walk through the doors of the Met and later than night we are going to have the best damn match of your career. And when my fans are cheering for the result, win or lose I will shake your hand. Because we Haligonians know how to treat our guests.
Card drops into his full East Coast accent to finish the promo.
Chris Card: We’ll be talkin’
