Post by Hammersteiner on May 16, 2019 22:19:08 GMT -5
Hammerstein, Holly, Zoe, and Brian Shelzi sit at a table in The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf coffee shop in LAX Airport, waiting for his boarding call. The tension is as thick as the foot traffic through the terminals.
I don't understand why you feel the need to do this, Hammer.
Brian Shelzi takes a sip from his cup of coffee, trying in vain to calm his frustrated and worried mind.
Explain to me, where's the upside in this? You bled buckets just a few nights ago in Montreal and I'd say it's a sure thing you will in this match, too. You're the Unified World Heavyweight Champion, for crying out loud. You don't need to put yourself in these ridiculous sideshow matches. They're spectacles for the sake of being spectacles. The people who enjoy these kinds of matches are the same people who go to The Indy 500 hoping to see a fiery crash. How can you advance the brand doing a match like this?
Hammerstein gives Shelzi the side eye as he finishes his herbal tea. Holly sits, feeding Zoe and pretending not to hear the conversation.
The brand? What the hell do ya mean, the brand, Brian?
Shelzi rubs his eyes, his frustration growing.
Look, Hammer. The fans in Japan love you. They admire you for your “fighting spirit.” You're a bankable brand, right now. But, when your body is used up from being in shit show matches against guys like this Tiger Mask Undead, these same fans will step over your bloody, broken corpse on their way to the merchandise table to buy someone else's brand. But, if you let me do my job as your manager, I can guide and direct the Hammerstein brand into the upper echelon of this sport. You're the Unified World Champion. I can negotiate your opponents. Better, higher paying matches, against opponents that I hand pick to boost the Hammerstein brand.
Hammerstein glares at his manager.
Fuckin tomato cans?
Shelzi shakes his head.
Enhancement talent. Wrestlers who, though good, are still easily beatable. I can set this up for you. MAX-J, Millennium, SSW, you name it. The Hammerstein brand will go through the roof. You won't have to kill yourself night after night. When you come off the road, you'll actually be able to enjoy home time with Holly and Zoe.
Holly looks at her husband, then back down at Zoe.
Hammerstein shakes his head, his fists clenched. Shelzi puts up his hand.
Look, I know you live for the fight. I know that feeling. I experienced it myself. But you have to get all you can get while you can. You gotta cash in on your name while you still have a marketable name.
Hammerstein stands up, his legs push his chair backwards into the next table, causing Holly to jump.
Cash in? Ya mean sell out. Fuck this, Brian. I'm not listenin to this right now. We can talk about it on the flight to Osaka.
Shelzi stays in his seat.
No, Hammer. If you do this, you do it without me. I don't know that you can beat this guy, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he can do a lot of damage to you...and your brand.
Hammerstein looks at Shelzi, then at Holly.
Can ya believe this guy, Babe?
Holly lays the now sleeping Zoe in her carrier.
I think he's right, Hammie. Not about everything, but about this thing that's wearing Eli's mask. There's something about him. Something that I can't put my finger on, but I feel it. I feel something dark, something cold, and it scares the hell outta me, Hammie.
Hammer looks at his wife with disbelief.
Ya don't think I can beat him either, do ya?
Holly looks at him, the fear evident in her eyes.
Hammie, I...no. I don't know. All I know is I haven't been this scared for you before.
Hammerstein walks over to his family, kisses his index and middle fingers, and gently lays them on his sleeping daughter's forehead. Hammer looks his wife in the eyes.
I'll be home soon, Babe, just as pretty as ever.
The American Monster smiles goofily at Holly, who can't help but smile back.
You'd better.
The couple share a kiss, and Hammerstein walks toward the boarding area for his flight, the lack of confidence shown by his wife and manager sure to be gnawing at him for the entirety of the flight to Osaka.
**********
Hammerstein stands in front of a black Maximum Japan banner that hangs from the outside wall of the Osako-jo Center, site of his Dog Collar Deathmatch with Tiger Mask Undead. On his right shoulder rests the Lions Road World Heavyweight Championship, on his left the MAX-J Heavyweight Championship, the two belts that make up The Unified World Heavyweight Championship. The haggard expression on his face is a sure sign of jet lag, and of the importance of his message that he would come straight from the airport to deliver it.
Ya know, a friend of mine once talked about the weight of being a champion. I never really gave her words much thought until recently, when certain events have made me realize just how right she was. Bein a champion, no matter what or where the championship is, carries a huge weight along with it.
Hammerstein runs his fingers through his hair, his hand stopping at the back of his head. He holds it there for a moment, then sighs.
I'm constantly under the microscope, constantly under scrutiny. Losses, even when they're in other companies where these titles aren't being defended, are showcased far more here than the wins in those same territories. Even the slightest hint of weakness is thrown into the spotlight. My worthiness as Champion is forever bein called into question, even when the title isn't on the line. Pressures, questions, and doubts, from without and even from within my circle, push down upon my shoulders.
At times, it gets almost unbearable. The burdens get larger, and the weight gets heavier, even though my shoulders and back stay the same size.
But never once have I asked that the weight be taken off me. Because I've come too goddamn far, worked too goddamn hard, and bled and paid the price too goddamn much to reach the point that the weight could be placed upon my shoulders. I don't want it removed. Because only the Champion can carry this weight.
Hammerstein's eyes burn and well up, his voice cracks with raw emotion.
And carry that weight I sure as hell will. And when that weight pushes me the fuck down, ya can bet your last dollar that I will get the fuck back up and I will continue to carry that fuckin weight.
And here in Osaka, Tiger Mask Undead, non-title, I'm gonna bring the full force of that weight right down on ya, and you'll fall, just like your master GRIM did.
Because ya don't have it in ya to carry that weight.
I don't understand why you feel the need to do this, Hammer.
Brian Shelzi takes a sip from his cup of coffee, trying in vain to calm his frustrated and worried mind.
Explain to me, where's the upside in this? You bled buckets just a few nights ago in Montreal and I'd say it's a sure thing you will in this match, too. You're the Unified World Heavyweight Champion, for crying out loud. You don't need to put yourself in these ridiculous sideshow matches. They're spectacles for the sake of being spectacles. The people who enjoy these kinds of matches are the same people who go to The Indy 500 hoping to see a fiery crash. How can you advance the brand doing a match like this?
Hammerstein gives Shelzi the side eye as he finishes his herbal tea. Holly sits, feeding Zoe and pretending not to hear the conversation.
The brand? What the hell do ya mean, the brand, Brian?
Shelzi rubs his eyes, his frustration growing.
Look, Hammer. The fans in Japan love you. They admire you for your “fighting spirit.” You're a bankable brand, right now. But, when your body is used up from being in shit show matches against guys like this Tiger Mask Undead, these same fans will step over your bloody, broken corpse on their way to the merchandise table to buy someone else's brand. But, if you let me do my job as your manager, I can guide and direct the Hammerstein brand into the upper echelon of this sport. You're the Unified World Champion. I can negotiate your opponents. Better, higher paying matches, against opponents that I hand pick to boost the Hammerstein brand.
Hammerstein glares at his manager.
Fuckin tomato cans?
Shelzi shakes his head.
Enhancement talent. Wrestlers who, though good, are still easily beatable. I can set this up for you. MAX-J, Millennium, SSW, you name it. The Hammerstein brand will go through the roof. You won't have to kill yourself night after night. When you come off the road, you'll actually be able to enjoy home time with Holly and Zoe.
Holly looks at her husband, then back down at Zoe.
Hammerstein shakes his head, his fists clenched. Shelzi puts up his hand.
Look, I know you live for the fight. I know that feeling. I experienced it myself. But you have to get all you can get while you can. You gotta cash in on your name while you still have a marketable name.
Hammerstein stands up, his legs push his chair backwards into the next table, causing Holly to jump.
Cash in? Ya mean sell out. Fuck this, Brian. I'm not listenin to this right now. We can talk about it on the flight to Osaka.
Shelzi stays in his seat.
No, Hammer. If you do this, you do it without me. I don't know that you can beat this guy, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he can do a lot of damage to you...and your brand.
Hammerstein looks at Shelzi, then at Holly.
Can ya believe this guy, Babe?
Holly lays the now sleeping Zoe in her carrier.
I think he's right, Hammie. Not about everything, but about this thing that's wearing Eli's mask. There's something about him. Something that I can't put my finger on, but I feel it. I feel something dark, something cold, and it scares the hell outta me, Hammie.
Hammer looks at his wife with disbelief.
Ya don't think I can beat him either, do ya?
Holly looks at him, the fear evident in her eyes.
Hammie, I...no. I don't know. All I know is I haven't been this scared for you before.
Hammerstein walks over to his family, kisses his index and middle fingers, and gently lays them on his sleeping daughter's forehead. Hammer looks his wife in the eyes.
I'll be home soon, Babe, just as pretty as ever.
The American Monster smiles goofily at Holly, who can't help but smile back.
You'd better.
The couple share a kiss, and Hammerstein walks toward the boarding area for his flight, the lack of confidence shown by his wife and manager sure to be gnawing at him for the entirety of the flight to Osaka.
**********
Hammerstein stands in front of a black Maximum Japan banner that hangs from the outside wall of the Osako-jo Center, site of his Dog Collar Deathmatch with Tiger Mask Undead. On his right shoulder rests the Lions Road World Heavyweight Championship, on his left the MAX-J Heavyweight Championship, the two belts that make up The Unified World Heavyweight Championship. The haggard expression on his face is a sure sign of jet lag, and of the importance of his message that he would come straight from the airport to deliver it.
Ya know, a friend of mine once talked about the weight of being a champion. I never really gave her words much thought until recently, when certain events have made me realize just how right she was. Bein a champion, no matter what or where the championship is, carries a huge weight along with it.
Hammerstein runs his fingers through his hair, his hand stopping at the back of his head. He holds it there for a moment, then sighs.
I'm constantly under the microscope, constantly under scrutiny. Losses, even when they're in other companies where these titles aren't being defended, are showcased far more here than the wins in those same territories. Even the slightest hint of weakness is thrown into the spotlight. My worthiness as Champion is forever bein called into question, even when the title isn't on the line. Pressures, questions, and doubts, from without and even from within my circle, push down upon my shoulders.
At times, it gets almost unbearable. The burdens get larger, and the weight gets heavier, even though my shoulders and back stay the same size.
But never once have I asked that the weight be taken off me. Because I've come too goddamn far, worked too goddamn hard, and bled and paid the price too goddamn much to reach the point that the weight could be placed upon my shoulders. I don't want it removed. Because only the Champion can carry this weight.
Hammerstein's eyes burn and well up, his voice cracks with raw emotion.
And carry that weight I sure as hell will. And when that weight pushes me the fuck down, ya can bet your last dollar that I will get the fuck back up and I will continue to carry that fuckin weight.
And here in Osaka, Tiger Mask Undead, non-title, I'm gonna bring the full force of that weight right down on ya, and you'll fall, just like your master GRIM did.
Because ya don't have it in ya to carry that weight.