TCP1 Posted February 27, 2009 Share Posted February 27, 2009 This is a fictional diary based on the Cornellverse database provided with TEW2008. The only modifications are 3 relationships. Any reference to any real persons, alive or dead is usually a coincidence... but sometimes not. This opening post contains all of the background information for the diary. After this the show reports will be done in a simplistic fashion, which should save time, whilst increasing enjoyment. this will take the form of a 'Booker's Diary' with comments about certain things working, or not working as the case may be. Thanks have to go to Adam Ryland for creating this awesome game, but also to infinitywpi and BriFidelity, who wrote the two diaries that inspired this diary to be written in the first place. The Beginning http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TCP.jpg When I was a kid, I used to think life would be so simple. Work hard at school, go to a good University, get a good job, meet a good woman, have great kids and die content. I was wrong. I worked hard, I got to University, I got a great job in marketing and I met a good woman. Things seemed to be too good to be true, and they were. I discovered that my wife was cheating on me with a man she’d met at my work Christmas party. I’m getting ahead of myself here; let me tell you what it is I do. As I mentioned I work in marketing, and part of my job involves dealing with foreign sports stars who are trying to make an impact in the United Kingdom. They come to my firm, and I sort them out with the best VIP tickets, tell them where to go and what to do. It’s more agency and PR than marketing, but whatever pays the bills, and it did pay the bills. Paid them very well in fact! Anyway, during the frankly debaucherous Christmas party, my wife disappeared with a great big hulk of a man. Being the naturally untrustworthy man I am, I followed them and caught them in the act… on my desk no less. I squared up to the filthy swine (well my face was buried firmly in his chest) and gave him a piece of my mind. He responded by giving me a piece of his fist. I woke up a week later in a hospital bed. Apparently, I’d been in a coma and according the letters on my bed, my company, God bless them, had released me after the giant man accused me of starting the fight. My wife, it appeared had run off back to the States with him and left me with keys to our penthouse and a picture of us from our wedding day. How sweet of her! This brings me to 3 months ago. Now, having worked in the city for as long as I have, you meet people. People of note. People who know how to work the system. An old friend of mine, Lee Bambino had contacted me and told me how his wrestling career was going and how I’d taken the break-up. ‘How did you know?’ I asked, apparently it was all over the internet. Upon hearing about this, Lee suggested having my legal representation contact SWF and explain that you were going to sue for assault. ‘They’ll definitely settle, they always do, and it’s easier for them to do that!’ I was intrigued, and got straight on the phone with my lawyer. I was informed that it seemed like I had a case, especially with the backwards American legal system, so me and my lawyer flew to America to fight and hopeful cash in on my own misfortunes... New York City was dirty, obnoxious and loud. Needless to say, I loved it. I was holed up in the Chelsea International Hostel and had been preparing the case for weeks with my legal team. We were ready for the first round of hearings when I received the phone call. "Hello, is this Tom Patrick?" "Yes, who's this?" "Hi, my name is Richard Eisen. I promote a wrestling business called Supreme Wrestling Federation..." "So you’re the man I'm suing? I don't think we should be talking like this." "Yes yes, shut up a second and let me speak... This will cause some untold damage to my company's reputation, and I'd like to avoid that if possible? I was wondering if you'd consider a settlement out of court." Bingo, this guy sounded rude and crass, but the fact of the matter is, he was looking to pay me off, which is exactly what I was after. "I would consider an offer." I wanted to play it cool, and not snap at the first sign of trouble. "Good, I'd like to invite you to my corporate headquarters to discuss the matter, it's 2614, 11th and Main. Are you free today, I'd like to get this debacle sorted before we go to court?" "I'll be there at 4.00pm." "Good, don't be late. I hate people who are late!" This guy was clearly a rude *******, but it really didn't bother me. If you work in marketing, you meet bosses like him all the time. All I knew was there was a settlement awaiting me, all I had to do was take it... Eisen Towers I walked through security into the frankly, enormous, hallways of SWF (apparently wrestling promotions always abbreviate their names) and I was flabbergasted that a company that provided a solely wrestling product could be so profitable. Some of these offices were bigger than mine. I turned one of the elongated hallways and walked straight into an absolute monster of a man. "Oh I'm sorry" I whimpered looking up at this giant. The Champ http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/RunawayTrain.jpg "Why are you sorry? Did you walk into me on purpose?" His voice boomed so loudly, I swear my teeth trembled. "I'm sorry, I just, I mean me..." "Ha-ha I'm only yanking ya. You must be new. What's your name? You probably recognise me from TV, so no need for an introduction is there?" He beamed and tilted his head back to resemble a famous statue. I looked at him blankly. Slightly crestfallen, he continued "I'm Runaway Train; I'm a multi-time World Champion." He grinned unapologetically. "Oh" I said "Well done... but if you don't mind me asking, isn't it all fake?" Train's face went from grinning to what appeared to be rage. "Wow, you must be champion because of your acting ability. You look like you're really annoyed..." I remember thinking to myself as I was suspended by the neck, pinned up against a wall by an over 6'7" wrestler called 'The Runaway Train' that my life definitely wasn't turning out the way I'd hoped. "Let him down Train." I fell crashing to the floor and landed in an unsightly heap. Train bent over me and threatened me one more time before leaving. I got to my feet and ran over and hugged the man who seemingly had control over the monster. "Thank you, thank you, Goodness, I thought he was, I mean I, this place its crazy and everybody is huge and I'm just trying to get to Mr. Eisen's and..." "Calm down dude, you're going a mile a minute. What's your name?" "Oh sorry, I'm Tom Patrick." "Nice to meet you Tom Patrick, I'm Joey Minnesota." The Nice Guy http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/JoeyMinnesota.jpg I chatted with Joey Minnesota for about 10 minutes. He seemed like a cool guy actually. He told me how the 'boys' sweat and bleed for the business and gave me a little insight into his background. Apparently he'd made a name for himself at a little company called New York City Wrestling (NYCW I figured out, using the initials rule of wrestling promotions, is it sad that I took great joy in that?). The company was run by a haggard old wrestler called 'The Stomper' who ran a promotion that 'harked back to the old school mentality of wrestling’s past.' I didn't really know what that entailed, so I assumed it has to do with midgets and bearded women. After NYCW he'd jumped to TCW and now finally had signed for SWF. Joey informed me, that just like in any business there is politicking and manipulation, but it was mainly the business of the bookers and promoters, whereas, with a few exceptions, the boys' all stuck together. The way he talked about it made me slightly jealous that I'd never been part of something like that. You see I'd never really had that many friends or been part of something personal and rewarding. Joey eventually pointed out Mr. Eisen's office and made his excuses and left. I knocked on the door and a growling voice boomed back, "Who knocks in this business, getcha a** in here!" I turned the doorknob and entered... The Proposal http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/Richard20Eisen_altFIN.jpg I entered the office of Mr. Eisen and made sure to be very respectful and polite, although his course manner made me feel very uncomfortable. Despite this, he has a fascinating man, and I really struggled to not get taken in by his story-telling and rough worldly ways. It was clear how he'd managed to build this entertainment empire, his natural charisma was astounding. There was a brief bit of chit-chat before he dived into business. "So, the way I see it, one of my boys has liberated a lonely housewife from the clutches of a dull husband, who hence worth will be known as... you. But in order to avoid a big trial, I'm willing to settle to make this go away. If it got out, my biggest babyface could be ruined." I wondered what the hell a babyface was. Some kind of mask worn by a wrestler perhaps? I decided not to ask too many questions. Negotiations, you see, much like a game of poker is all about concealing your strength or weakness at the table. Currently I felt very weak. “Well, Mr. Eisen..." "Call me Dicky Mac." "Well, Mr. Eisen" he frowned "My life has been utterly ruined by that jerk. I don't even know his name, and yet I've lost my wife, my job and now all my money is tied up in this case. It's going to have to be a very good offer, I'm sure you'll agree." Mr. Eisen sat there for a minute and just stared at me. He absent-mindedly played with a coin in his hand, but his eyes never left me. I stared straight back, hoping not to show any kind of weakness, but the pressure was too much. The silence was deafening and I could feel myself blurting out that the case was a joke, and if I were him I wouldn't pay. I. Couldn't. Hold. It. In. Any. More... Eisen slammed the coin on the table and stood up. "OK kid, you clearly mean business so here's what I propose..." Thank God he spoke, I was about to shoot myself in the proverbial foot. "I'll pay you every penny on a year’s salary for you, plus I'll expense your trip over here and any legal fees spent up to this very second. That's monetary reimbursement for you. Now, as for your job, I'd normally just dump you in my marketing department and let you rot, but there's something about you, in your eyes, that says to me it'd be more fun to do this..." This was quite a proposal so far, but what else could he possibly have in mind? "According to your ex-wife, you have quite the knack for organisation and good old fashioned story-telling. Normally this wouldn't mean a thing, but you're determined too, I like that. It's rare to have someone willing to spend their last pennies to come to a foreign land and try and beat an invincible foe." I knew that was hyperbole, but from where I currently sat, he really did seem invincible. "So, what then? A spot on my writing team perhaps? Well, I could never give you a job without seeing what you can do. I'd be ridiculed. So I have shares in a little company in New York." "Is that New York City Wrestling? Owned by the Stamper, where Joey Minneanapolis used to work?" I loved the fact that I'd incorporated some new wrestling knowledge into a business situation. It made me feel smart. Although something seemed amiss. Mr. Eisen stared at me in silence for a few seconds. "Yeah" he said slowly "That's pretty much the one." He paused again for a few more seconds, before shaking his head and continuing "So as I said, I own a 40% stake in company. It's not worth much, but it allows me to take the top workers and send my youngsters there. Obviously I've kept it hush-hush, because the fans would turn on the promotion if they knew the 'Big Bad Wolf' from SWF had a stake in their precious promotion. What I suggest, is that you go down there and take the 'Book' and I'll see what you can do? You know what the book is don’t you?" "Of course I do." I lied. "Excellent. Then it's settled then? We have a deal." I looked at 'Tricky Dicky' Eisen (as I'd nicknamed him in my mind), he seemed too eager to palm this 'book,' whatever it was onto me. I felt it was a setup of sorts. "No deal Tricky Dick... I mean, Mr Eisen. I want all 40% of your stake in the company. Owning that part of a company will give me something to put my creative and organisational skills to the test. Then I'll write this 'book' and if you like my work after 4 months, you make me head of your writers?" Mr. Eisen Scowled. "I can't make you head writer on my..." "What's wrong Tricky... chicken?" Was that a good idea? He looked like he was going to rip my arms off. "Fine. 40%, but you pay for flights and legal help to set it up, this gravy train is closed. After 4 months, I won't the option to buy back that 40% from you at its market value, and if you did well I'll give you a very well-paid job. Now, do we have a deal?" I looked him in the eye and smirked. "We certainly do!" New York City I woke up bleary on Sunday morning and rubbed my eyes. The ceiling had brown stains all over it and there was the smell of stale cigarettes and alcohol in the air. My head thumped. My vision cleared and I desperately tried to remember what had happened the night before. I suddenly had a nightmare that I'd entered the world of wrestlingwit no knowledge or expertise . I chuckled to myself. Thank God that hadn't happened. I leant over and took a swig of my drink, but instantly spat it out again. Cigarette buts littered the flat beer. That was strange, I didn't even smoke. I rolled out of bed and walked over to the dresser and looked at the sad, desheviled figure looking back. There was a large blacky-brown lump on my head. I rubbed it on instinct, but recoiled at the shooting pain going through my head. I had a sudden flashback: I was in a bar pleading with someone to smash a barstool on my head. Strange. That doesn't sound like me. I looked closely at the bump and had another flash. "Do it, do it. Yeah, now what do I say? I'm hardcore, I'm hardcore!" My face scrunched up, I was trying to figure out why I'd done that. Then, without warning the bathroom door knob twisted and the door swung open. I spun round and what I saw was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, with a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. "Hey honey!" She obviously knew who I was, but the who the hell was she? "Or should I say... Hubby!" My eyes widened to a point where I thoguht they might fall out and my jaw hit the ground. I looked at the t-shirt she was half-wearing and on it was some kind of graffiti scrawl. I winced slightly as I narrowed my eyes to read what it said: 'Cheer for Beer - Vote Hathaway' The Girl http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/FernHathaway.jpg "Uh, heh, hi there." "Hey sweety, how's the head? You were really going for it last night you know? I don't think I've ever seen someone keep up with Land Mass before." Who the hell was Land Mass? Who calls their child Land Mass? Why did I get the impression he was not a normal person? "Then when the guys convinced you to have a chair smashed over your head. That was hilarious, you took it really well. I think you've got some of their respect... well... except Stomper. But he's an old coot anyw..." Stomper? Why did I recognise that name? It sounded a bit like Stamper, the name of my new business partner, but... Oh God. "Is Stomper the owner of NYWF?" "Hehehe, you mean NYCW. And yes, that's the guy. Wow, you really don't remember do you?" I looked at the gorgeous woman blankly, more transfixed by her looks than what she was saying. "Well what happened was you arrived at the Weston High School Gym with Joey Minnesota. You both stank of booze, but you offered to take everyone on the roster out for drinks to celebrate your new position within the promotion..." Then it all came flooding back. I'd met Joey outside SWF Towers, or whatever it was called, and he'd congratulated me on my settlement and offered to come with me to meet the guys because he still had some 'stroke' (I'm really going to need to find out what all these words mean) there and would love to catchup with some old friends. We'd hopped into a limo with Runaway Train, who'd explained to me that I should never refer to what they do as fake. They put their bodies on the line every night, just for an opportunity to entertain and make a living. His words were so heartfelt I almost forgot they were coming from a guy who could crush my skull like a cantaloupe. They'd given me a brief rundown on NYCW: It had been formed in 1988 by The Stomper (I really needed to remember that name) and apaprently 'harked back to an older era of wrestling.' Someone else had said the same thing to me I'm sure, oh god, why did I drink, my memory is shot to pieces. They played to an 'Old School' crowd who loved stories more than the qulaity of wrestling. the company whoever had been in a bit of trouble recently and was struggling financially and the crowd levels were at record lows. Wonderful, I think I've been sent down the river without a paddle on this. Joey and Train had joined me in celebrating and plied me and themselves with champagne, to the point where we'd reached this horrible rundown school gymnesium. Joey and I had got out of the limo, but Train thought better of it, he didn't want to get into trouble the same way Kurt Laramee had. I remember wondering you Kurt Laramee was, but quickly forgot whn I cast my eyes on her. Fern Hathaway. She was dressed as a school girl, and Joey introduced us "Tom, this is Fern. You'll like her... all the guys like her!" He wasn't wrong, she was stunning. We'd convinced the guys to come to a bar on 5th street to celebrate, and with the exception of this wrinkled old guy, everyone had been very enthusiastic. Then it gets a bit sketchy. I definately drank a lot, and me and this man-mountain had done shots at the bar (Was this the elusive Land Mass?) and then... Damn it! I'd proposed to Fern. I remember her face, she looked confused, but was obviously drunk too. "You're the new boss, I can't say no to you, I wouldn't be a good employee if I said no would I?" "Exactly!" I'd idiotically replied. Then... nothing. then, this morning. "You alright sweet cheeks? You ready to go down to the gym to chat with the boys in the cold light of day?" "What?" I snapped louder than I planned to. "Awww, come on now, we both know you've got to assess the boys abilities and see if there are any changes to be made. Personally I think some of the boys are overpaid and not bringing enough to the table to justify their presence. I'll be your wingman and let you know what I think. You'll be fine." Surely no one could be this nice straight away? Could they? Well at least she knew the guys, but Joey's words rang in my ears briefly 'She loves all the guys...' What did he mean by that? My head hurt too much to care about that now. All i had to do now is focus my sight, bandage my head and go back to the gym. We got into a rent-a-car (not quite the limo from last night) and drove a few blocks south to the Weston Gym. It looked worse than I remember. Some kids were outside shooting cans with BB guns, but they ran when we arrived. I got to the main door, which was a faded from years of sunlight and on it was a piece of paper. The paper read: NYCW Training In Progress, absolutely no interruptions... unless you're the dumb-ass from last night. In which case prepare for the worst day of your life. Signed Stomper! I opened the door and walked in... The Locker Room (well dirty gym at the very least) http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/TheStomper.jpg What I discovered upon my entry was one of the most rag-tag groups of misfits I had ever seen. Seriously? Where had Stamper, I mean Stomper got these guys from the bargain basement 80s cliche wrestler department in Macy's? There was a slight murmour around the group, which slowly died down as I made my presence known. There were a few whispers, and then the enormous man in the corner started to clap and grin. Within seconds everybody was clapping and laughing and wooping. It was clearly a slightly sarcastic response, but I was man enough to take it. Hell I even cracked a smile and gave a little presidential wave. "CUT THAT OUT YOU MORONS!" I slightly rough-around-the-edges character hobbled through the sea of muscle. He had a messy goatee and huge valleys in his forhead. Something in my head clicked and I immediately knew who this had to be. "Mr. Stamper, it's an honour and a priv..." The group erupted into hyeena-like laughter, and it wasn't until Fern grabbed me by the shoulder and whispered in my eye, that I knew what I'd done wrong. "Sorry, Mr. Stomper, it's an honour and a priv..." "Cut the bull-sh*t son. After last nights display, I don't think you know the meaning of the word honour. I watched as a young man, who clearly needs to get laid..." "Looks to me like mission accomplished boss" hollered a black man with an enormous purple hat in the background staring right at Fern. Stomper spun around and marched straight up to the physically imposing man and stood face-to-face and spoke at a barely audible sound. "Perhaps, Mr. Bling, or Mr. Phunk, or whatever ridiculous name you go by this minute. Perhaps if you'd cut that smart-mouth a few months ago, Steve wouldn't be our current World Champion." There was a joint inhalation of air. Clearly that was a sore point with this Mr. Bling. His face screwed up and he was almost crying with tears of rage. "Oh no he didunt, oh yes he did!" came a rather squeeky shout from a young blonde girl sitting on the turnbuckle in the ring. This was met with groans and even one person slapping their forhead. Stomper and Bling stood face-to-face for a short while. a large man wearing star spangled banner shorts took a step behind Stomper and faced Bling. Bling cast an eye up briefly, took a deep breath and a step back. Stomper smiled and spun back to face me. Whatever he was, there was clearly no messing with the Stomper, or at the least the aged American hero. Stomper came up to me. "No listen to me kid. I don't like you, I don't think you know the code of wrestling and I think you look down on us." "He definately looks down on you boss." shouted another old looking guy, slumped into a foldaway chair. No one joined the man in laughing. Stomper continued to face me and drew breath. "So, you stay outta my way and try not to sink the business and I'll leave you alone. We need to have a private meeting away from the morons. Come back here tomorrow and we'll talk." With that he left, knocking the slumped man in the chair on his backside, which made the rest of the roster laugh. He stormed into a small office and slammed the door shut. Everyone still left looked at me, clearly waiting for me to take over. This was some pressure. What on earth did I expect to happen? Think about your office experience Patrick dammit I thought to myself. "OK, for those that don't know, my name is Tom Patrick and I'm your new book-reader." There was some scattered giggling, but the American hero put pay to that with one glance. "What I think would be a good idea is if I met you all one at a time. You, Mr. Bling is it? Can you please setup 2 chairs in the middle of the ring and the rest of you form a queue." Bling clearly wasn't prepared for that request. He sneered. "It's Grandmaster Phunk to you... boss." He dryly replied. "Cheerleader! Sort out the chairs." The young blonde struggled with 2 chairs and awkwardly slid them into the ring. I looked to Phunk as if to imply that I thought he should help, but he didn't budge. This was clearly going to be more difficult than I thought. "Right, we'll go alphabetically. Anyones name begin with A?" A huge man who I now recognised as Land Mass put his hand up and looked around nervously. A huge muscular man smacked him in the arm. "Not you dumb-ass! I'll go. They call me American Machine." Interview with American Machine http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/AmericanMachine.jpg "Nice to meet you Machine America," "It's American Machine." "Of course it is, lovely. So tell me about yourself." "I'm American Machine. I'm one half of the tag team the American Patriots with Whistler..." "Whistler?" "He's the guy who got Phunk to stand down." "Respected is he?" "Yeah, he's something of a locker room leader. People look up to him because of his age and experience." "I see. so what can you do?" "Beg ya pardon?" "What do you do? Are you a top-rope jumping type?" "A cruiserweight?" "Yeah if you want to put a label on it?" "No... boss. I'm a regular wrestler. Generally I get the crowd interested by being the patriotic babyface with an imposing physique." "Babyface?" "Yeah, you know... babyface... face... a good guy!" "Right, of course. Just testing. Errr, well that's great thanks, and errr, nice to meet you American Maniac." "Machine!" "Ummm, yes Machine. Thanks. Can I have the next wrestler please?" Interview with Sammy the Shark, Rodger Dodger and Honest Frank http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/SammyTheShark.jpghttp://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/RogerDodger.jpghttp://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/HonestFrank.jpg "Hello, it's a plesure to meet you all, but I'm sure I asked for one at a time." "You certainly did. But my proteges here don't go anywhere without me. They're like the kids I never had. Well, obviously a stud like me has kids. but I prefer these two. That's why I'm always here." "Right. That's a little harsh on your real kids isn't it?" "If you had kids in prison, you'd learn to stop caring too." "Yeah, I... WHAT? Prison?" "Yup, fell in with a wrong crowd. My fault really, but they do insist on being just like daddy. Still, rather them than me I guess." "That's horrible!" "I know, fancy jumping on the sword to save your old man. Nevermind, these two aren't gonig to make that mistake are you?" "..." "..." "That's right. It's all about training and their upbringing isn't it?" "Fern mentioned that you three are probably our strongest on the stick, which I've deduced means microphone. But, to be honest I can't see these two having any sort of charisma at all, I mean..." "Don't let their discipline fool you. Boys, do you thing!" "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS, CHILDREN OF ALL AGES, NYCW PROUDLY BRINGS TO YOU, IT'S SOON TO BE TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS OF THE WOOOOOOOOORLD, i AM THE SHARK, SAMMY C." "AND I'M THE DODGER RODGER C." "AND WE ARE... THE STING." "AND IF YOU'RE NOT DOWN WITH THAT, I'VE GOT TWO WORDS FOR YA... BUZZ OFF!" "Wow... That was.. INCREDIBLE! How'd they.. he he, look at my I'm giggling. Truly impressive. so, are you like their manager?" "No, no, no. Out there I'm a singles wrestler, these guys don't need me. It's only back here that I teach them." "Well, fantastic! Truly, amazing. Thanks for your time." "No problem." "Wow. errr, next please." Interview with Michael Bull http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/MichaelBull.jpg "Hello, nice to meet you. I'm Tom Patrick, and judging by your shirt, you're the referee. Michael Bull is it?" "..." "Right ok, I hear you don't take any BS from anyone?" "No." "Excellent, that's good for a referee. Without the strong authority the place would descend into chaos, am I right?" "..." "Heh heh, don't want the inmates running the asylum do we?" "No." "You're not one for small talk are you?" "No." "FANTASTIC. Well, ahem, is there anything you'd like to ask me?" "No." "Ok then. NEXT!" Interview with Wiley Coyote http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/WileySteinway.jpghttp://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/CoyoteDynamite.jpg "Hello. So you're my number one contenders to the tag belts then?" "Certainly seems that way." *spits tobacco* "That's... lovely. How long have you been wrestling?" "Long time." "Yup, LONG TIME." *spits tobacco* "What do you feel you bring to the tag ranks?" "We've been a team for a long time." "Yup, LONG TIME!" "And we've done well ,reasonably speaking. Well ,we're gonna be champs ain't we?" "Yup, Champs!" "OK. If you don't mind me saying, you seem quite old. Can you still perform to your best in the ring?" "Yup, LONG TIME WE WRESTLED." "We can still go. We may look like a Southern hick has had babies with his cousin, but we still gots some moves." "Yup, moves." *spits tobacco* "OK, but if I were to bring in a younger tag team. Could you hold up your end of the bargain. "Yup, LONG TIME!" "Yup." *spits tobacco* "I see. Any other tag teams you'd like to work with?" "Nope." "OK, thanks for coming." Interview with Whistler http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/Whistler.jpg "Ahhh, so you must be Whistler? I've heard that you're a respected presence in the locker room?" "I certainly like to make sure the boys don't get too ahead of themselves. I keep them outta trouble... relatively speaking." "Good, well they certainly are characters." "What exactly do you mean by that?" "Well, they're, not your run of the mill people." "..." "What I mean to say is, they seem like a good bunch." "Hmmm, yeah. There be some trouble-makers, but I keep them in line good and proper and make sure the old fella doesn't have any trouble. His heart ain't so good you see. So anything I can do to make it easier. I'll do it." "Well that's commendable. Let me be honest with you. I'm new to wrestlign and I don't really know the ins and outs. I'm trying not to offend anyone, but it's a bit tricky, because everyone reacts in such vastly different ways. Do you think you could help me out?" "Depnds." "Depends on what? I really do want to make it work." "Depends on whether you really want it. When I started, my first training session, my ankle was broken on purpose. I got it bandaged and came straight back. So my trainer broke my other ankle. But I came back. He systematically broke each limb possible, but I kept coming back. After 6 months, he accepted that I wanted it, so he agreed to train me. so let me ask you, would you keep coming back?" "No, I'd probably try and sue him." "HAHAHAHA. Well, City Slicker, if nothing else you're funny. But I get the feeling you'll never be one of the boys. You're just a suit whose out of his depth." "That's true, I am out of my depth, which is why I'm hoping you'll help me. If not for me, for the company, for the boys and for the old man. What do you say?" "I guess, for the sake of old man... ah hell, ok. You have to come to my house tonight and I'll start your education. But, if you bail or quit, I'll make you pay." "And if you do, I'll probably try and sue hahaha." "Hahahaha, funny suit ain't yah. na, it'll be too tough to sue with no arms or legs to call your own." *gulp* "Nice talking with ya and I'll see you tongiht." Interview with Grandmaster Phunk http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/GrandmasterPhunk.jpg "Grandmaster Bling, nice to meet you at last." "We met." "Really, when?" "Last night." "Oh." "Hee hee, who do you think it was convince Fern to get on wit you?" "That was you?" "Pimp by name, pimp by nature." "I thought your name was Bling." "Used ta be. Now I'ms Phunk... The Grandmaster Phunk to ya. Now let me tell ya bouts me. I'm the biggest star this promotion has. I'm bigger than Flash, bigger dan Whistler. Hell's I'm bigger than Gods, know whats I'm saying. I'm the Pimp Mac Daddy Phunkmeister General. Da ladies come to please me, to hug and tug and squeeze me, cos I'm dyn-o-mite beleives me! I'm the Grand-Master-Phunk!" "That's a unique name." "I'ms a unique guy, knows what I'm saying?" "Are you saying you're gay?" "WHATS!?!?!?! Hells no, I ain't no fag, motherf*cker! You you think you are? COMING TO MY HOUSE AND CALLING ME A FAG!" "Woah, I'm sorry, I just thought with the accent and the way you are aronud the ladies." "WELL YOU THOUGHTS WRONG. GOD DAMMIT, I AM BETTER THAN THIS F*CKING SHI**Y PROMOTION, I'M BETTER THAN ALL THESE SHI**Y WORKERS, AND MOSTS OF ALLS, I'M BETTER THAN YOUS!" *Storms out of the ring and out of the gym* "That one's going to be trouble." Interview with Land Mass http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/LandMass.jpg "He-llo Mr. Boss man!" "Hello Land Mass. How are you?" "Good fank you very much. I like your shoes." "Errr.. thanks. They're from London." "London? What's London." "It's my home town, in England." "I'm from Dump City, US of A." "Is that right? Tell me, how did you come to be a wrestler." "That's a fun story. I like stories. My daddy used to say to me, 'Son you ain't no good except for punching and kicking.' Which Iguess is true. So I joined a travelling circus when I was really young. I liked the lions you see. The owner, P.T. Bar-Ham he said, 'Boy, you're not that bright, but boy can you take a beating.' and that was true. So every night we'd invite people from the crowd to come and beat me up. None ever could, I'm too tough you see, but they tried. Real hard sometimes. They always hit me in the head." "Oh Land Mass, I'm sorry, that's..." "My story ain't finished yet Mr. Boss Man. So one night a group of big guys came, paid a dollar and tried to beat me up, and like the others, they couldn't. But the leader of this group got real angry and started hitting me with a big metal pole. It hurt a little, but I didn't go down. If I ever went down, I didn't get fed. And I love mash taters! When he realised I didn't go down he called his daddy over and told him about me. His daddy was a nice man and he said 'I'll give you all the mashed taters you can eat if you come wrestle for me?' So I went and wrestled for him, it was kinda the same thing, but I got to fight back and pretend to be mean. After a while though all the good guys beat me up and I lost too much that the daddy stopped giving me taters and I was alone again, until Stomper came along. Cos I'm so big, people are scared of me you see, so I'm always the bad guy, and Stomper needed a big bad guy for his good guys to beat on. I'd like to be the good guy once, you know, but Stomper says 'YOU BETTER SHUT UP STUPID, YOU'RE GIVING ME A CORN-NER-RENN-EY' or something like that. So, yeah, that's my story I guess." "That's a great story." "You like stories too Mr. Boss Man?" " I certainly do, and I like mashed taters too." "Oh Mr. Boss Man. You make me so happy. I thinks me and you going to be bestest friends. You want to be my best friend? I don't have one you see. Not many people like Land Mass. They make fun of me." "Yeah, Mass, I'll be your friend. Thanks for the story, we'll get some mashed taters next time." "Thanks Mr. Boss Man." Interview with Steve Flash http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/SteveFlash.jpg "Ah Mr. Flash I presume? Our resident World Champion." "Very Nice to meet you." "Tell me a little about yourself." "Well sir, I've been around quite a bit as my face will testify. I was a major player in the East Coast Wars in the mid-1990s and I've worked for every major Canadian promotion in the last 10 years. I'm quite handy in the ring and enjoy making my matches the best on the card." "Something of a ring general then?" "I certainly like to think of myself like that. I'm not as charismatic as some the guys here, and I hate working the stick, but when it comes to in-ring action, I reckon I'm one of you're best guys." "You know Steve, you seem thoughtful and mature, how on earth did you end up here?" "Heh, well sir, I took a shine to this promotion and the old school values it stands for and I want to bring legitamacy to a World title in an age where gimmickery and flash are fast over-taking substance." "Well, I don't really know what else to ask? I think I have everything I need from you?" "Glad to help, just one other thing though. I noticed you had an altercation with Phunk. Just a piece of advice. He's a hot-head, but he really is one of the most talented workers this promotion has ever seen. Don't judge him too harshly, because you never know when you might need him." "Thanks for the advice." Interview with Old School Principles http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/RickSanders.jpghttp://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/TheMaskedMauler.jpg "Old School Principles, welcome. Now let me see if I got this right. Rick Sanders and The Masked Mauler." "Yes siree bob." "Rargh!" "I see, tell me Rick, does the Mauler talk, or should I expect grunts?" aside "He takes his character very seriously Mr. Man, just pretend you understand him." "As I understand it, you are my tag team champions? Tell me about your team, because you don't strike me as a natural team." "Well, to put it basically Stomper wanted to use us both, because we're old friends of his..." "Right." "But he didn't want me overshadowing the up-and-comers and he couldn't trust the Mauler to, well maul any of the valuable workers." "Overshadowing?" "Oh yeah, I'm actually the best worker in this federation. No one will tell you that because they're all looking out for their spot. But it's fact." "I see. So you're better than Steve Flash?" "Yup. Don't get me wrong, Stevie is a hard-working team player type, but he lacks the edge, that's why he never made it that big." "He says he was a major player in the East Coast Wars and has worked for every Canadian promotion in the last 10 years." "Well yeah, but he was on the losing side in the wars and let's face it a couple of two-bit Canucks hitting each other with hockey sticks is hardly a promotion to be proud of, is it?" "Hmmm. Well, I think that's all I need." "Rargh!" "Errr, yes Mauler, nice to meet you too?" "No, no, he asked if we're still considered the future of tag wrestling?" "Oh, well we'll have to wait and see what..." "RARGHHHH!!!" "Err, ok yes, why not." "Thanks very much, goodbye." "For now at least." Interview with Cheerleader Nicki http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/CheerleaderNicki.jpg "Hello Nicki, it's nice to meet you." "Oh we met last night... hehehe. In the men's toilets. Hehehehe!" "NEXT!" Crumpets and Tea The interviews were lamost at an end, and my back was killing me I didn't think I could take any more. Then as if sent by God himself, Stomper stormed his way back into the gym. "What the Hell is all this then? Having a tea party are we. Damn British types, always wanting to talk. Well guess what kiddo, this is a wrestling promotion, so stop the chat and let's do some training. Are you in or out?" "Beg your pardon?" "Oh, I'm sorry. Did your royal highness not hear me? If you can wrestle, stay, if your a hot ladie, stay. Anyone else, get lost!" Land Mass got to his feet and began to leave. "Not you, ya idiot, sit back down." "Fair enough Stamper (I did it on purpose this time) I'm off, but we still on for our meeting tomorrow?" "Yeah, don't forget the crumpets." "Crumpets, oh fantastic..." "GET LOST!" And with that I grabbed by note book and headed for the hostel. Research and Development I stopped in at the 7/11 on my way back to Chelsea to buy some sugary products and something to drink and I somehow got chatting to the clerk. After the initial confusion about where I was from (do I really sound Australian?) we got to talking about wrestling and it turned out he was a huge fan who used to come to the NYCW events. Apparently the reason he stopped was because he was tired of the same formulaic stories and the same 'boring' wrestlers. He wanted to see some new blood and new talent on display. He told me about a wrestler that he and his friends had seen at a MAW event called 'Bulldozer' Brandon Smith. Apparently he was a collegiate football player who'd turned to wrestling after an injury. He advised me to check out his matches on MyTube. It was here that the thoguht of the internet occured to me. I was sure that there must be loads of wrestling websites out there with all the market research an executive could want. I dashed back to the hostel and forked over the £5 to use the Internet bay, and I was astounded by the sheer volume of the online wrestling community. For every person I saw posting an idea or an opinion, I just thought, if we put on a slightly updated show, we could get them into the arena. I even found a few sections dedicated to NYCW, and a mention of my name. Huh, who knew I'd be famous. There were kids in their mum's basements in New York who knew my name. The comments all seemed to be the same. 'I've never heard of this guy, but anything is better than that fossil Stomper.' 'I really hope the Brit makes some drastic changes and comes up with some new storylines.' The internet was aliteral goldmine for me, I read match reviews and learnt about the intricacies of matches and exactly what is was that made matches memorable and worth paying money to see. I began to make notes, and then some more, and some more. Before I knew it, I had a whole book full. My ery own poker Bible. I continued searching and absorbing for hours, until it occured to me that me meeting with Stomper was in an hour. I put on a fresh set of clothes and headed down to the Weston Gym. Goals http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/TheStomper.jpg Stomper greeted me at the door in his indominatble style, by saying absolutely nothing and just grunting. None of the other wrestlers were there, but I found my way into his office and we sat down to talk. He wanted to lay down some rules that must be followed in order to keep my job as Head Booker (see how much I'd learnt). He ran through the company's financial woes of late and apparently we had $200,000 in the bank, but because of a dodgy deal he had made, we couldn't go into debt. not even once, and he explained that if we did, the promotion would be seized and we'd all be out of a job. I said I'd keep a strict eye on all finances and assured him he had nothing to worry about. I then began explaining about the internet and all the information I'd found and what the fans were looknig for in a promotion this size. After a vigerous debate about 'Pencil-necked geeks' we agreed a drastic approach was needed and Stomper agreed to let me bring in some new blood, under the proviso that they not be 'Blood-crazed lunatics' or 'flippidy-floppidy 6-year-olds.' Not a problem, from what I'd read, they were a very niche market in the South-West anyway. THe meeting was a pleasent surprise, as 24 hours earlier, I'd had no idea what was going on and knew even less about wrestling. But here I stood Wrestlnig Bible in hand and on my way to start thinking about the roster in great depth and plan out some future storylines. As I walked the New York streets, with a million thoughts and ideas pinging around my brain, my mobile phone began to ring. I looked at who it was calling... Joey Minnesota? The Future http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/JoeyMinnesota.jpg After the initial shock of recieving a call from Joey, I answered and he said he had some more advice for me. It really was useful to have someone who knew the ins and outs of the business, and Joey had some more gold for me. "Hi Pinho (a bastardisation fo my initials gone awry, it had something to do with Brazilian soccer names) listen I've just heard from some new boys here in the locker room about some up-and-coming talents you might want to look into." He then proceeded to real off a list of about five wrestlers and he gave me their contact details. If I was to make it in the business I would definately need to bring in some new blood to counter the stale 'old boys' of NYCW, although too much upheavel too soon would cause trouble. I rang the five individuals and arranged to pay for them to come to New York and meet with me. I then went onto the internet and looked up some of their past matches. Joey wasn't wrong, some of this stuff was incredible and I already started to formulate what to do with them and how to turn them into the stars of NYCW's future. I sat in my hostel room and for the first time in a long time, I actually felt that I had something to contribute and if my long-term planning paid off, both me and Stomper could be rich and on our way up. Then a thought dawned on me. What about Eisen? If I did well he'd give me the lucrative job as a writer in SWF. Did I still want that? At the time, it seemed like something good to bargain for, but now, I'd met the roster and the owner and was making myself part of the machine that runs this great promotion. 'Great promotion?' Where had that come from. It seemed that I was finding myself more and more drawn into this lifestyle. Sure 99% of the workers were insane or retarded, but they were still becoming 'my boys.' I then got a call from the police, which was just as shocking as the call from Joey. Something had happened and Fern was in some trouble. "Well, all good things..." A Sign of Things to Come? http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/FernHathaway.jpg I rushed to the police station and met with the arresting officer. Apparenlty Fern had got into a fight in a bar with another girl. I was shocked to discover a battered and bruised Cheerleader Nicki walk by, covered by a towel and crying into the shoulder of any police officer. I asked to see Fern, and the very nice Officer Blaney escorted me into the holding cell. Fern sat on the steel bed with her head in her hands. I walked up to try and comfort her, but she slapped my hand away. "I don't need your pity. The bit*h deserved what she got and I'd do it again in an instant." I took a step back and was, frankly, shocked at the venom that was pouring out of Fern's mouth. I knew that I didn't know her all that well, but I'd always considered her a level-headed type. This side of her just scared me. She looked up at me and clearly noted the shock in my expression and all of a sudden her mood shifted. "I'm sorry honey. I've just had such a stressful few days and the whole 'us' thing has caught me a bit by surprise. Then, Nicki ran up to me and asked if you were available, and I... I just lost it. You know, I saw the red mist. I guess I'm just protective over those that I love." She gave me a longing look and then held her arms up and I saw tears forming in those big, brown eyes. I walked back over and gave her a hug. A hug to let her know it was ok. That nothing was going to get between us. Nothing. Power I left the cell and Fern behind. There was no way I could afford bail, but I would find it, from somewhere. Then it dawned on me, Stomper had given me the company chequebook. I doubled back and paid for Fern to be released and the two of us left the station. On the way out, I noticed a petite blonde hailing a taxi across the street. It was Cheerleader Nicki, before I knew what was happening Fern was running across the busy street and straight for Nicki. I gave chase and, apart from nearly being hit twice, I made it there just in time to grab Fern, although I could feel how tense her body was. "YOU STUPID LITTLE BIT*H!! YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE WHAT'S MINE? YOU THINK YOU'RE SO SPECIAL, WELL LET ME TELL YOU, IN A FEW YEARS YOUR LOOKS ARE GOING TO BE GONE AND YOU'LL REALISE THAT THERE'S NOTHING LEFT BUT A STUPID SKANKY WHORE!" I'd never heard so much anger in one persons voice, I genuinely feared for Nicki's life if I'd let go, I had to stay strong. Nicki on the other hand didn't budge an inche, and if she was scared, she didn't show it. "Oh look, here comes Fern, upset that I took one of her men. Let me tell you something, if you will go after every guy in all five boroughs, eventually you going to lose one. It's not my fault he thinks you're POISON!" I had to interject, I would not have people talking for me when I was standing right there. "Listen Nicki, I think you're a nice enough girl, but I'm engaged to Fern." She gave me a quizzical look. "Now it's clear that you two can't get along, so I'm afraid, as part-owner of the company, I'll have to make a decision." Now she looked angry and I could feel Fern untense slightly. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to let you go. Thanks for all your hard work and good luck in the future." "WHAT? Oh my God, how stupid are you? She's got you twisted round her little finger hasn't she? I wasn't talking about youuu....." Nicki hit the floor like a ton of bricks. I'd somehow loosened my grip on Fern long enough for her to take a swing at Nicki. Then without warning she'd grabbed my hand and we were running down an alleyway. I glanced back and saw Nicki, still on the floor, clearly dazed, but Fern dragged me on and around a corner. Once around the corner, she pulled me under a fire escape and passionately kissed me. I remember thinking this was one of the more bizarre days in my life. Then I just kissed her back, completely oblivious to the fact that my phone was vibrating in my pocket. Busiest. Day. Ever! I began the next day with the same feeling I'd had for the last two; something was wrong. I didn't know what it was, but I did know that I didn't have time to worry about it. Today was the day I met the rest of the locker room and I had meetings with some of the new workers that Joey had suggested for me to look at. I rolled over and looked for my mobile, but it wasn't on the bedside cabinet. That was strange, I always keep it there in case anything urgent happens whilst I'm sleeping. Not that I'd done that much sleeping of course. I reached down into the pockets of my trousers on the floor and found the phone. I flicked it open and saw a missed call and a message. I listened to the message as Fern restlessly turned over in the bed and put the pillow over her head. It was a familiar voice, Whistler. "Hey boy, if you want me to take you through some of the ins and outs of this buiness we call wrasslin then I'm free tomorrow night." He finished the message by giving me his address and telling me to bring some PowerJuice because it'll likely be a late one. Well my day was now fully booked. I slipped out of bed, got dressed and made my way to the Weston Gym. I thought of waking Fern, but after yesterday, I thought it best to keep her out of harms way. There could well be people upset about my decision to fire Nicki, nevermind Fern leaving her battered on the sidewalk. The cab pulled up outside the gym and the whole roster were standing there in the rain. All eyes turned to me as I got out and I immediately could tell who was upset with me. Nevertheless I walked straight up to them and Whistler informed me that Stomper had not shown up to let them in. I explained that I didn't have a key cut yet. There were rumblings of discontentment followed by an almighty crash. Everyone turned to find the door open and the padlock in pieces on the ground. Land Mass stood by the carnage "Doors open boss" and grinned like a lunatic. Once inside Land Mass, Whistler and Flash setup the ring like before with three chairs, two facing a single one. I told Whistler that Fern wouldn't be here today "Probably a good thing" came his response. I sat on the lone chair and invited three smartly dressed men into th ring. Interview with the Announce Team http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/RockDownpour.jpghttp://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/HerbStately.jpghttp://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/MarvEarnest.jpg "Nice to meet you. You guys must be the voice of NYCW?" "Yes sir, I'm Rock, Rock Downpour and these are my broadcast colleagues Marv Earnest and Herb Stately." "Pleasure." "Hi there!" "So tell me about yourselves." "Yes sir, you see we were talking and we knew that this meeting was going to happen. Although we were a little put out that we weren't some of the first to be spoken to. That being said, we'd like to take this opportunity to let you know that we are fully committed to NYCW and you won't find anyone better for the money we're paid." "I see and who much are you paid?" "Well I'm sure as the owner you'll realise that our pay is in line with the other workers in the company." "What workers?" "..." ""Which workers? The Main Eventers?" "No, no, no! Not them, we'd never expect to put on that level." "Nah, we're more midcard-level." "Shhh." "What, we are!" "Shut up!" "I see, so you're effectively the same value as three midcard talents?" "Yup." "I wouldn't put it like that." "Listen Sir, all you need to know is that announcing is the most important job in wrestling. Without a good team, the company could lose business." "OK. Do we really need three of you, surely just one of you and a wretler could do the same job. Just like in SWF." "Well, I think the difference is that we compliment each other so well that if one of us were missing, then you might as well get rid of all of us." "..." "What I mean to say is we work much better as a threesome." "..." "No, no, I mean I think if you ask any of the guys, they'll agree that we are more than worth our salaries." "I wouldn't say that!" "Ha ha ha ha, that Grandmaster Phunk. What a joker he is." "I ain't joking! You guys suck!" "ha ha ha ha, there he goes again. VERY FUNNY PHUNK. Heh heh." "I think I have all I need. Thanks for coming." Interview with Black Hat Bailey, Spike and Dazzling Dave http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/BlackHatBailey.jpghttp://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/Spike.jpghttp://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/DazzlingDaveDiamond.jpg "Hi guys. Tell me about yourselves." "Well boss, I'm Black Hat Bailey. I'm a former top-level star in the big leagues, who is now trying to pass on some of my knowledge to these up-and-comers. This is Dazzling Dave and this is Spike." "Hello." "Alright bossman!" "Quite, well good to meet you. Tell me, where do you see yourselves fitting in here in NYCW." "Well boss, I am one of your top stars, but the old knees ain't as good as they used to be. So your best bet is to put me in a tag team with someone and let me have a go at the tag titles. Between you and me, our current champs are a bit of a joke." "I know what you mean." "Well exactly, anyone can see they're thrown together with nothing better to do. All they do is put themselves over to keep their 'spot.' Whereas I'm a firm believer in the old guard teaching the new guard and I love teams mad up of mentor and pupil." "Interesting idea, I quite like that." "Good, good, that's not to say there isn't room for all veteran or all youngster teams, but I think the blend is good and highlights that maybe we're not just about the oldies. We're not USPW." "What's USPW?" "That's what a lot of fans say. Heh, only joknig, it's a company that focuses mainly on stars of yesteryear, but they struggle to produce top-quality young talent. we don't want to be thought of as a poor mans USPW." "Quite right, we need our own identity. Thank you Mr... hat. Is there anything you two would like to add? No? Ok then. Thanks again." Interview with Lee Wright http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/LeeWright.jpg "Judging by that belt you have over your shoulder, I'd say you're Lee Wright? My Tri-State Champion?" "Smart cookie ain't ya?" "Right, so Mr. Wright, tell me your thoughts about the company." "It's got a damn site worse since you been in charge, I know that for a fact. I also know only a fool would release Nicki and keep that skank Fern on the payroll. She must have you jumping through hoops for her. Aye... Sparky?" "I'm not here to discuss Fern or Nicki.""Well maybe you should discuss it with someone. you see once you start going down a path like that, there ain't no turning back." "I get the feeling you don't like me very much." "Bingo, got it right again Sparky. Who's a good boy then?" "Please try to act with some professionalism." "Hypocracy lives! You wanna treat boy? Who's a good boy? Are you a good boy?" "Please leave my ring." "This ain't your ring Sparky, this is our ring and you're an intruder, and don't you forget it." Financal Paranoia http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/TEW/TheStomper.jpg Lee Wright left the ring at nothing more than a saunter. Clearly pleased with what he no doubt considered a victory over the new push-over boss. On his way out of the building he accidently bumped into Whistelr who whispered in his ear. Wright stood silent for a few seconds before turning away from Whistler and leaving the gym. He must have no respect for anyone. Whistler head to the ring and asked if I was ready to head off and start the tutorial he'd promised. I explained that I had some more meetings away from the gym first, but would meet him at his house. Then, Stomper made his presence known, he had a worried look on his face, but that was manifesting as anger to all those around him. he stormed past me and Whistler and yelled "Get in my office suit!" that was my cue then. After entering Stomper's office, he slammed the door behind me and began ranting like a mad man about the state of NYCW finances, and if I was going to bring in new talent, they could well cripple us. Used to this behaviour now, I fought my corner, explaining that the company was in trouble because there were no new stars. We went back-and-forth for quite a long time, until eventually I managed to reason, that if I could 'trim some fat' I could then afford to get the new talent I was after, with no 'handcuffs.' If nothing else we seemed impressed by my new sense of passion, and he finally agreed, but only under the proviso that if the company went below $120,000, me and 'my boys' would be the first to go. It wasn't ideal, but it left me freedom to bring in 'my boys' (I liked that) and get away with the Nicki situation without too much heat on me. I could also use it as an opportunity to get rid of some trouble-makers,... if the situation arised where I'd need to anyway. I left Stomper's office with a new sense of purpose and headed straight for Moosehead McGraw's Chilli Steakhouse for my first meeting with one of 'my boys.' Experience The meetings with 'my boys' went well and I'd convinced them to join the NYCW Revolution. Well, I say revolution; it's more of a slight shake-up than anything else. Needless to say they were in and I'd invited them to the Weston Gym to meet their new locker room friends. Again, friend is a strong word, but they were certainly all going to be locker room something’s and I'm a positive guy, so friends it is. Most were met with positive headshakes and approval although Stomper flipped his lid when he saw that one of them was a 'Flippidy-flopping fool' as he so eloquently put it. I calmed him down and explained that there was a difference between 'flippidy flopping' and Japanese Strong Style. He didn't buy it and I was in the dog house. But I had more important things to worry about. Our first show! I met with Whistler at his home in Albany. It was a slightly run-down apartment in a bad neighbourhood. His living room was covered in empty bottles of pills and half eaten pizza. I cleared some debris off the couch and sat down. Whistler disappeared into the bedroom and came back out with a huge box full of video tapes, wrestling magazines and autobiographies. He explained that if I was to appreciate what it was to be a wrestler booker, you also had to be a wrestling fan, and these would help. He grabbed a tape out of the box and put it on. It was the first ever NYCW show from the 1980s. I sat back and he explained in intricate detail everything that was going on and why. Slowly, ever so slowly I began to take it in... Adrenaline It had been six days. Six days of going to Whistlers and watching hours upon hours of wrestling. It had become quite the event and others from the roster joined until it became unfeasible to hold it Whistlers apartment anymore. So I moved it to the gym. We sat together talking through the matches. What worked? Why it worked and so on. It was a really good bonding experience and at last I really felt that we'd grown together. I may not have been Mr. Popular, but I wasn't an outsider anymore. In only twenty-four hours time we would be holding our first show, and I had some big plans for most of the talent available, including some new gimmicks and characters. As Whistler had sagely told me, at this level it's a case of trying on new gimmicks until something works and you get 'over.' So it would be new gimmicks ahoy as of the newly named NYCW New Years Bash. I'd decided after my training with Whistler that SWF and TCW were the companies to aspire too and the best way would be to take some of their ideas and naming/branding styles without overtly stealing. I agreed in principle, but we didn't want to draw too many comparisons otherwise we'd just be seen as a cheap 'knock-off.' I gathered the workers together and spoke to them as a group for the first time and explained what I had planned for the show and what everybody’s characters were meant to be feeling. I got some initial complaints, but on the whole they took my ideas in and then went about figuring out how they would pull it off. I went home that evening and didn't sleep a wink thinking about the show. I'd never felt anything like this. Then, my mobile went off. It was a text message from Joey Minnesota: Hey, I know your not sleeping at the moment. Here's my advice, learn to love who you're feeling, because it never stops. Good luck, I'll be watching." After reading I smiled and then went back to staring blankly at the ceiling, it was 1 hour from Showtime... Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Hyde Hill Posted February 27, 2009 Share Posted February 27, 2009 You just love swapping threads don't ya. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
mad5226 Posted February 27, 2009 Share Posted February 27, 2009 yeah what is the reason for that? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TCP1 Posted February 28, 2009 Author Share Posted February 28, 2009 yeah what is the reason for that? Thinking was people might not want to read through all the intro stuff, and therefore if I kept in one post, they could just skip it easily. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TCP1 Posted February 28, 2009 Author Share Posted February 28, 2009 Booker's Diary http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v301/TCPinho/NYCW_alt2.jpg Company: New York City Wrestling Finances: $250,000 Owner: The Stomper Titles NYCW Empire: Steve Flash (B-) NYCW Tri-State: Lee Wright (C-) NYCW Tag Team: Old School Principles (D+) Roster Main Event Grandmaster Phunk (Heel) Steve Flash (Face) Black Hat Bailey (Heel) Upper Midcarder Honest Frank (Heel) Whistler (Face) Rick Sanders (Heel) Midcarder American Machine (Face) Land Mass (Heel) Coyote Dynamite (Face) Wiley Coyote (Face) Masked Mauler (Heel) Lower Midcarder Dazzling Dave Diamond (Face) Sammy the Shark (Heel) Lee Wright (Heel) Opener Rodger Dodger (Heel) The New York Doll (Heel) Manager Fern Hathaway (Face) Referee Michael Bull Road Agent The Stomper Tag Teams Old School Principles (Rick Sanders & Masked Mauler) The Sting (Rodger Dodger & Sammy the Shark) American Made Men (Whistler & American Machine) Wiley Coyote (Wiley Steinway & Coyote Dynamite) Released Cheerleader Nicki Marv Earnest Rock Downpour Herb Stately Signings Bulldozer Brandon Smith (Face) Frankie Perez (Face) Jacob Jett (Heel) Cameron Vessey (Face) Davis Wayne Newton (Heel) Dharma Gregg (Heel) Renamings Bulldozer Brandon Smith to The Masked Patriot Jacob Jett to Stunning Steve Jacobs Davis Wayne Newton to DW Davis Dharma Gregg to Victoria Sammy the Shark to Sammy Cipriani Honest Frank to Honest Frank Cipriani The New York Doll to Clash Rotten New Tag Teams All-American Americans (Whistler & The Masked Patriot) The Cipriani Family (Honest Frank Cipriani & Sammy Cipriani) Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
foolinc Posted February 28, 2009 Share Posted February 28, 2009 We need to start calling you "A Master of A Thousand Threads." Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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