Post by Teeps on Oct 18, 2021 17:52:02 GMT -5
Aft deck, Card 3, Halifax Harbour. Chris Card is seated on deck with the sun beaming down from above and the crisp morning air causing his breath to condense into light clouds in the sunlight. There is a familiar glint in his eye as he reaches down for an ornate wooden case and produces one of his trademark Cuban cigars, snips the end off with a black cigar cutter, places it to his lips and casually slides a match from a tray, striking it one handed and lighting the end with a fulsome puff on it.
Card smiles at the camera, possibly warmly (it’s always hard to tell), and breathes out a much thicker cloud.
Chris Card: You were expecting something else?
Now Card’s smile is a broad grin, settling into the comfortable surroundings of his home town while not having to give up the little luxuries has has been so accustomed to, his yacht, his cigars. No whisky because drinking at this hour of the morning sets a bad precedent. It’s there on the ship, of course, but strictly for afternoon libations.
Chris Card: When I was in my late teens I left this town. I started around the US and Canada as a professional wrestler, took a couple of years out to study at the Rotman School of Management at U of T, got married to a wonderful wife, made some savvy business investments and got a nice little place in Toronto. I made my name through wrestling and my fortune through investments. But I always knew that Halifax was my home. Whether I was main eventing Pay Per Views back when they were an actual thing or watching profits roll into my bank account I always knew I’d come back to my Haligonian people.
Card holds the cigar away from his mouth and takes a big gulp of the Atlantic air before returning to smoking again.
Chris Card: And then I got a call when my previous employer closed. Well, I got two calls. I could have taken the money, hell, a younger me would have ALWAYS taken the money. But that offer to come and wrestle in my home country, not just Canada but in the damn Maritimes. It spoke to me. I remember the crowd going insane when I did a guest spot as a referee here. And the reaction for my debut? Stronger. There was something tangible in the air that night. The Met may have changed its name but it’s still the Halifax Metro Center to me. It’s still the arena I went to see the Oilers, and the Citadels as a kid. I’ve wrestled at MSG, I’ve wrestled in huge outdoor stadiums but to hear “Welcome home!” being chanted at The Met, it sparked something in me.
Card flicks the collected ash into a monogrammed ashtray on a small table beside him
Chris Card: So here we are. I make my NPW in-ring debut at The Met. Neo James Carner. A fellow wordsmith and intellectual. I fear you Carner. I genuinely fear your abilities. You are going to prove a difficult and dangerous challenge the second, the very second…
Theatrically checking his gold watch, Card chuckles to himself for EXACTLY one second.
Chris Card: They have wrestling matches decided by games of Scrabble. Now don’t see this as me looking past your obvious in ring talent, Jim…
There is a heavy emphasis on that last “Jim”.
Chris Card: But I used to say I’m here to make statements not friends. Against you? I’m making friends by being the guy to step up and put the side of my boot through the head of the ReVenant snake. And I don’t need to make friends this side of the Bay of Fundy because I’m among friends already. From Black Point to Clark’s Harbour, I’m surrounded by people who value my presence. I don’t need to ally myself with the human controversy magnet Keith Williams and the walking sophomoric joke Rob Garcia to beat people. I beat people because I’m very…
Beat.
Chris Card: Very good at what I do. And what I do isn’t that hard to describe. I set about my opponents with a game plan that has been ring tested and well worn. I have practised the things I’m good at and things that I’m not? They get dropped. And it’s that ruthless efficiency that’s going to prove the difference between us, Jim. You never saw a move you didn’t like. You pride yourself on having a massive arsenal of offense in your closet. But you lack focus and you’re too damn proud to admit that you’ve made mistakes. You’re the first draft of a really good novel and you’re too wrapped up in your own genius to hire an editor.
There is almost a teacherly note to Card’s voice as he criticises Carner’s rather scattergun approach to wrestling. It’s nothing new to Chris Card but so little is after 20+ years in the business.
Chris Card: So this is how I see it going down, Jim. I’m going to walk out of the ring after our match. My arms are going hurt. My head’s going to hurt. My legs are going to hurt. My ribs are going to hurt.
Card pauses one more time, leaving a little space to let his next sentence fully hit home.
Chris Card: But you are going to be barely able to draw breath.
Another suck on the cigar brings another thick cloud of smoke out from Card’s lips. Card finishes his promo not with a flourish but a simply, coldly delivered statement.
Chris Card: And I am going to walk out victorious.
FIN
Card smiles at the camera, possibly warmly (it’s always hard to tell), and breathes out a much thicker cloud.
Chris Card: You were expecting something else?
Now Card’s smile is a broad grin, settling into the comfortable surroundings of his home town while not having to give up the little luxuries has has been so accustomed to, his yacht, his cigars. No whisky because drinking at this hour of the morning sets a bad precedent. It’s there on the ship, of course, but strictly for afternoon libations.
Chris Card: When I was in my late teens I left this town. I started around the US and Canada as a professional wrestler, took a couple of years out to study at the Rotman School of Management at U of T, got married to a wonderful wife, made some savvy business investments and got a nice little place in Toronto. I made my name through wrestling and my fortune through investments. But I always knew that Halifax was my home. Whether I was main eventing Pay Per Views back when they were an actual thing or watching profits roll into my bank account I always knew I’d come back to my Haligonian people.
Card holds the cigar away from his mouth and takes a big gulp of the Atlantic air before returning to smoking again.
Chris Card: And then I got a call when my previous employer closed. Well, I got two calls. I could have taken the money, hell, a younger me would have ALWAYS taken the money. But that offer to come and wrestle in my home country, not just Canada but in the damn Maritimes. It spoke to me. I remember the crowd going insane when I did a guest spot as a referee here. And the reaction for my debut? Stronger. There was something tangible in the air that night. The Met may have changed its name but it’s still the Halifax Metro Center to me. It’s still the arena I went to see the Oilers, and the Citadels as a kid. I’ve wrestled at MSG, I’ve wrestled in huge outdoor stadiums but to hear “Welcome home!” being chanted at The Met, it sparked something in me.
Card flicks the collected ash into a monogrammed ashtray on a small table beside him
Chris Card: So here we are. I make my NPW in-ring debut at The Met. Neo James Carner. A fellow wordsmith and intellectual. I fear you Carner. I genuinely fear your abilities. You are going to prove a difficult and dangerous challenge the second, the very second…
Theatrically checking his gold watch, Card chuckles to himself for EXACTLY one second.
Chris Card: They have wrestling matches decided by games of Scrabble. Now don’t see this as me looking past your obvious in ring talent, Jim…
There is a heavy emphasis on that last “Jim”.
Chris Card: But I used to say I’m here to make statements not friends. Against you? I’m making friends by being the guy to step up and put the side of my boot through the head of the ReVenant snake. And I don’t need to make friends this side of the Bay of Fundy because I’m among friends already. From Black Point to Clark’s Harbour, I’m surrounded by people who value my presence. I don’t need to ally myself with the human controversy magnet Keith Williams and the walking sophomoric joke Rob Garcia to beat people. I beat people because I’m very…
Beat.
Chris Card: Very good at what I do. And what I do isn’t that hard to describe. I set about my opponents with a game plan that has been ring tested and well worn. I have practised the things I’m good at and things that I’m not? They get dropped. And it’s that ruthless efficiency that’s going to prove the difference between us, Jim. You never saw a move you didn’t like. You pride yourself on having a massive arsenal of offense in your closet. But you lack focus and you’re too damn proud to admit that you’ve made mistakes. You’re the first draft of a really good novel and you’re too wrapped up in your own genius to hire an editor.
There is almost a teacherly note to Card’s voice as he criticises Carner’s rather scattergun approach to wrestling. It’s nothing new to Chris Card but so little is after 20+ years in the business.
Chris Card: So this is how I see it going down, Jim. I’m going to walk out of the ring after our match. My arms are going hurt. My head’s going to hurt. My legs are going to hurt. My ribs are going to hurt.
Card pauses one more time, leaving a little space to let his next sentence fully hit home.
Chris Card: But you are going to be barely able to draw breath.
Another suck on the cigar brings another thick cloud of smoke out from Card’s lips. Card finishes his promo not with a flourish but a simply, coldly delivered statement.
Chris Card: And I am going to walk out victorious.
FIN
