Let's Go Out With a BANG!! (The pre-roll before the cup)
Jul 15, 2021 11:56:43 GMT -5
Magdalena Lockheart likes this
Post by anthonyksavage on Jul 15, 2021 11:56:43 GMT -5
“Wrestling tournament. Ugh! Sometimes that phrase is up there with “stock market dip” and “search warrant!” in my home during moments like this.”
“BLOODY FUCK!” *Crash!*
London, not long after Synergy.
“Hooooh, boy! Queen’s having a bad week!”
There was a reason Tony was sitting in the backyard in Kensington having his breakfast out in a surprisingly chilly British morning, instead of at the kitchen table tuning into the economic and sports news on his screens. Hence, why Tony instructed Ricky to come through the back gate and avoid the lady of the house; she was on a rampage. Both her jobs were shit right now, and England lost in a shootout on Sunday. Defcon 2 conditions at the manor right now. The look of wariness bordering on paranoia was glued to his face as his coffee cup shook in his hands.
“Jesus! All this because they slotted you into the Open?”
“Nah, Rick, that was just a straw. This week’s been utter shit for her.”
Tony adds a few squeezes of lemon to his tea, shaking his head as a highly educated and proper woman starts cussing up a storm like a Tottenham fan. She makes the frustration of her inability to find her laptop very vocal. Tony just shakes his head.
“I’d tell her she left it in her car, but, she doesn’t even want to speak to me right now. It’s the wrong time to be right with her.”
The last of his egg-white omelet vanishes with a few scoops of his fork. That was his third one of the morning, along with cereal and fruit. He ate like a racehorse, even with his nerves wracked from Cassandra’s fit.
“Don’t get me wrong; I’m honored to have been picked for the Open. Hell, I was downright SHOCKED! I thought they were going to stick me in a low card filler or the Districts, not book me in the big-ticket event itself. But, it did come as a bit of a curveball to us…”
Another glass broke. Tony’s tea cup was halfway to his lips when he heard the commotion. “Fucking hell; I’d better get in there before we end up using plastic cups for a few days. Better stay out here; don’t need TWO casualties resulting from Hurricane Cass!”
Sustaining a marriage in the industry is tough! Most of them tend to fail, and that’s between couples that have the business in common. Now imagine what matrimony is like when one of the spouses has LITTLE to do with the sport.
Tony met his wife Cassandra over 5 years ago when she was hired as a consultant to expand his family’s military contracting business. They were textbook Odd Couple; Tony hailed from a family of roughnecks that sold weapons and supplies to military groups, and Cass was a multi-gen blue blood from Chelsea who took the intellectual’s route and earned a Doctorate in Economics. Her toughest fights were either in board or classrooms, wrangling over contracts and syllabus schedules instead of belts. She never quite fit in with his workmates, but, that’s why he married her. It was nice to have a life outside the ring. The downside; sometimes it’s difficult to make somebody explain in this business, there are some things you just HAVE to do from time to time.
“I should clean that up; Robbie will be heartbroken to see that cup he bought you broken.”
She had her elbows on the table, which she never did, and her face buried in her palms. His son bought him one of those generic “World’s Greatest Dad” mugs they hid his Father’s Day Rolex in. Cass was stressed; classes to plan, her Sunday economics forum on BBC radio to host, and she wanted to show Tony she was willing to climb out of her anti-wrestling shell and help him guide Online Championship Wrestling’s finances back on course as co-C.F.O with him. But she learned in a brutal fashion wrestling company finances are ridiculous.
“No big deal; not like I won’t get another one on Dad’s Day!” Cass always stressed out worse than Tony did come bracket time. Tony had done handfuls of these tourneys, and they were always nerve-wracking. The big multi-company events were the worst; time and energy-draining slogs that, at best, distracted competitors (Tony fell victim to this, too) from the big picture. At worst, they turned into cross-promotion bloodbaths that resulted in bad feelings, ruined relationships, and caused more headaches than they were worth.
Plus, besides a win or 2 here and there, Tony always suffered from “ohh, so CLOSE!” syndrome constantly in these things. Always get to the semifinals or finals, then, POOF! Gone. Like water slipping through fingers.
“No, Anthony, I…*huff*…I’m being a cunt right now. Everything’s going well for you, and I’m pissing on that parade…”
“Yeah, sorry I caught you off guard with this news. But…”
“I get it; not something to pass up, especially this early in your contract.! But, I saw on your timeline…”
“You’re really giving up tournaments after this? I mean, if this is because I’m…”
Tony got out of the way of the housemaid sweeping up the shattered mug. He sat down next to Cass, her makeup smudge, her eyelids a bit heavier from less sleep these days.
“Like you said earlier, this executive and consulting gig’s taking up a LOT of my time. Hell, we’re barely on schedule putting up the stakes at WrestleFest, but this could be the thing that boost our own ventures. Think about it; we pull off the OCW district, more contacts, more deals to promote events…”
“This isn’t just about me make one final crack at busting a bracket at a major contest! If we…”
He cups her hand, smiling. “And this venture is ours; you’re the one that showed me how to make money on the other side of the curtain. But, folks need to remember I’m just as damn good in that ring as outside of it. Else; this all could stall out!”
“You know you get to be an utter prick during these events. I mean, you just vanish in that moment.”
She wasn’t wrong. The worst aspects of Tony Savage always popped out during tourneys. Nothing new considering it’s always stressful time for competitors. But his need to try to shake the stigma he can’t quite close the deal began to eat at him. There was also the strong opinion of his there were WAY too many brackets in the sport these days. Seemed like every week there were 2 or 3 invitationals or opens being advertised. The trend was becoming passe for him, and this was his last go on that ride.
So, why not try to go out in style?
“Check this out.” Tony brought up an album of pics and footage off his phone. Construction on the district they were sponsoring was proceeding as schedule. They’d set up a pavilion for a boxing ring, LEGO Death Match Land was up and running (nothing childhood warping about this place!),and Tony even snuck in a bonus subsection in honor of his wife and new homeland; Little Chelsea.
“This is adorable! You’re setting up a pub and tea room on site!”
“All your ideas!” He reassured her. After all these years, he figured out a way to get the misses involved; God knows she wasn’t worth much as backup in a fistfight! “I figured, if this is the last ride on the rodeo circuit, let’s make it worth more than the trip! In fact, this’ll be the family trip!”
“Tony, I’ve got the show to do…” She balked, but he had a backup for that.
“We can rent out studio time with PMN or another group. OCW’s got resources. Besides, you could use another vacation. And Rob, plenty of shit for him and us to do there. Honey, this isn’t some gig where you sit around the hotel or backstage. In a small way, you’re helping build this like the rest of us. Come enjoy it. Eat the fruits of your labor.”
Every day is a balancing act between the heart and the checkbook. Tony knew with bypassing the tournament scene after ‘Stock, he could be passing up fast opportunities. But he had the bigger picture to look at. He just didn’t strive to become UGWC’s best athlete and rack up wins, he was here to improve the bottom line all around. This festival was too good of an opportunity to pass up, and perfect for one last party.
She had to think about this for a long moment. “This doesn’t get you out of your homework, blondie. We still have THOUSANDS of pages to review…”
“Already on it; we can knock them out on the jet...on, shit!"
His fingers snapped, and the meanest, vilest, most sadistic grin he's EVER sported.
I'm breakout out the kit!
Are...oh, shit! You ARE serious about ending the tournament scene if you're breaking that bastard out.
Oh, yeah. Go out with a BANG time! Clarence...
Clarence, the butler, already had the metal briefcase with the retinal scanner in hand. "Sir's ultimate humiliation gear!"
I've been waiting to break this motherfucker out for years!
Tony opens the case. Inside:blue shirt, brown pants, white lab coat with the hair dye to match...
And THIS!
Wubba Wubba dub dub, motherfuckers!! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
“BLOODY FUCK!” *Crash!*
London, not long after Synergy.
“Hooooh, boy! Queen’s having a bad week!”
There was a reason Tony was sitting in the backyard in Kensington having his breakfast out in a surprisingly chilly British morning, instead of at the kitchen table tuning into the economic and sports news on his screens. Hence, why Tony instructed Ricky to come through the back gate and avoid the lady of the house; she was on a rampage. Both her jobs were shit right now, and England lost in a shootout on Sunday. Defcon 2 conditions at the manor right now. The look of wariness bordering on paranoia was glued to his face as his coffee cup shook in his hands.
“Jesus! All this because they slotted you into the Open?”
“Nah, Rick, that was just a straw. This week’s been utter shit for her.”
Tony adds a few squeezes of lemon to his tea, shaking his head as a highly educated and proper woman starts cussing up a storm like a Tottenham fan. She makes the frustration of her inability to find her laptop very vocal. Tony just shakes his head.
“I’d tell her she left it in her car, but, she doesn’t even want to speak to me right now. It’s the wrong time to be right with her.”
The last of his egg-white omelet vanishes with a few scoops of his fork. That was his third one of the morning, along with cereal and fruit. He ate like a racehorse, even with his nerves wracked from Cassandra’s fit.
“Don’t get me wrong; I’m honored to have been picked for the Open. Hell, I was downright SHOCKED! I thought they were going to stick me in a low card filler or the Districts, not book me in the big-ticket event itself. But, it did come as a bit of a curveball to us…”
Another glass broke. Tony’s tea cup was halfway to his lips when he heard the commotion. “Fucking hell; I’d better get in there before we end up using plastic cups for a few days. Better stay out here; don’t need TWO casualties resulting from Hurricane Cass!”
Sustaining a marriage in the industry is tough! Most of them tend to fail, and that’s between couples that have the business in common. Now imagine what matrimony is like when one of the spouses has LITTLE to do with the sport.
Tony met his wife Cassandra over 5 years ago when she was hired as a consultant to expand his family’s military contracting business. They were textbook Odd Couple; Tony hailed from a family of roughnecks that sold weapons and supplies to military groups, and Cass was a multi-gen blue blood from Chelsea who took the intellectual’s route and earned a Doctorate in Economics. Her toughest fights were either in board or classrooms, wrangling over contracts and syllabus schedules instead of belts. She never quite fit in with his workmates, but, that’s why he married her. It was nice to have a life outside the ring. The downside; sometimes it’s difficult to make somebody explain in this business, there are some things you just HAVE to do from time to time.
“I should clean that up; Robbie will be heartbroken to see that cup he bought you broken.”
She had her elbows on the table, which she never did, and her face buried in her palms. His son bought him one of those generic “World’s Greatest Dad” mugs they hid his Father’s Day Rolex in. Cass was stressed; classes to plan, her Sunday economics forum on BBC radio to host, and she wanted to show Tony she was willing to climb out of her anti-wrestling shell and help him guide Online Championship Wrestling’s finances back on course as co-C.F.O with him. But she learned in a brutal fashion wrestling company finances are ridiculous.
“No big deal; not like I won’t get another one on Dad’s Day!” Cass always stressed out worse than Tony did come bracket time. Tony had done handfuls of these tourneys, and they were always nerve-wracking. The big multi-company events were the worst; time and energy-draining slogs that, at best, distracted competitors (Tony fell victim to this, too) from the big picture. At worst, they turned into cross-promotion bloodbaths that resulted in bad feelings, ruined relationships, and caused more headaches than they were worth.
Plus, besides a win or 2 here and there, Tony always suffered from “ohh, so CLOSE!” syndrome constantly in these things. Always get to the semifinals or finals, then, POOF! Gone. Like water slipping through fingers.
“No, Anthony, I…*huff*…I’m being a cunt right now. Everything’s going well for you, and I’m pissing on that parade…”
“Yeah, sorry I caught you off guard with this news. But…”
“I get it; not something to pass up, especially this early in your contract.! But, I saw on your timeline…”
“You’re really giving up tournaments after this? I mean, if this is because I’m…”
Tony got out of the way of the housemaid sweeping up the shattered mug. He sat down next to Cass, her makeup smudge, her eyelids a bit heavier from less sleep these days.
“Like you said earlier, this executive and consulting gig’s taking up a LOT of my time. Hell, we’re barely on schedule putting up the stakes at WrestleFest, but this could be the thing that boost our own ventures. Think about it; we pull off the OCW district, more contacts, more deals to promote events…”
“This isn’t just about me make one final crack at busting a bracket at a major contest! If we…”
He cups her hand, smiling. “And this venture is ours; you’re the one that showed me how to make money on the other side of the curtain. But, folks need to remember I’m just as damn good in that ring as outside of it. Else; this all could stall out!”
“You know you get to be an utter prick during these events. I mean, you just vanish in that moment.”
She wasn’t wrong. The worst aspects of Tony Savage always popped out during tourneys. Nothing new considering it’s always stressful time for competitors. But his need to try to shake the stigma he can’t quite close the deal began to eat at him. There was also the strong opinion of his there were WAY too many brackets in the sport these days. Seemed like every week there were 2 or 3 invitationals or opens being advertised. The trend was becoming passe for him, and this was his last go on that ride.
So, why not try to go out in style?
“Check this out.” Tony brought up an album of pics and footage off his phone. Construction on the district they were sponsoring was proceeding as schedule. They’d set up a pavilion for a boxing ring, LEGO Death Match Land was up and running (nothing childhood warping about this place!),and Tony even snuck in a bonus subsection in honor of his wife and new homeland; Little Chelsea.
“This is adorable! You’re setting up a pub and tea room on site!”
“All your ideas!” He reassured her. After all these years, he figured out a way to get the misses involved; God knows she wasn’t worth much as backup in a fistfight! “I figured, if this is the last ride on the rodeo circuit, let’s make it worth more than the trip! In fact, this’ll be the family trip!”
“Tony, I’ve got the show to do…” She balked, but he had a backup for that.
“We can rent out studio time with PMN or another group. OCW’s got resources. Besides, you could use another vacation. And Rob, plenty of shit for him and us to do there. Honey, this isn’t some gig where you sit around the hotel or backstage. In a small way, you’re helping build this like the rest of us. Come enjoy it. Eat the fruits of your labor.”
Every day is a balancing act between the heart and the checkbook. Tony knew with bypassing the tournament scene after ‘Stock, he could be passing up fast opportunities. But he had the bigger picture to look at. He just didn’t strive to become UGWC’s best athlete and rack up wins, he was here to improve the bottom line all around. This festival was too good of an opportunity to pass up, and perfect for one last party.
She had to think about this for a long moment. “This doesn’t get you out of your homework, blondie. We still have THOUSANDS of pages to review…”
“Already on it; we can knock them out on the jet...on, shit!"
His fingers snapped, and the meanest, vilest, most sadistic grin he's EVER sported.
I'm breakout out the kit!
Are...oh, shit! You ARE serious about ending the tournament scene if you're breaking that bastard out.
Oh, yeah. Go out with a BANG time! Clarence...
Clarence, the butler, already had the metal briefcase with the retinal scanner in hand. "Sir's ultimate humiliation gear!"
I've been waiting to break this motherfucker out for years!
Tony opens the case. Inside:blue shirt, brown pants, white lab coat with the hair dye to match...
And THIS!
Wubba Wubba dub dub, motherfuckers!! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!