The following is an excerpt from an online diary entry by John Taylor at the official GZW2K1 website.
A
pint glass to the face. Robert
Carlyle’s Francis Begbie would’ve been proud of me last night.
It was the least I could’ve done, but the fact that old Sincere
didn’t show his face despite my knowing for a fact that he was there, hampered
that somewhat. Were my words in the
middle of the ring a little too logical for the bringer of Chaos? Never mind not being able to handle it, was there any way
Sincere even anticipated hearing the truth?
Sincere was the Olympic Oval… That
says something. That he didn’t
make a move on me also says something. What,
exactly? It comes down to an
either/or situation, my suspected reasons being:
A.
He chickened out. It’s
reasonable enough to believe he was at the show for a reason…
What was he planning? Another
3-on-1 attack? I think not. I saw to henchman #1…
Without “SiDeShOw” SeAn, the next-gen Chaos Theory is, to be
frank, an old man and a jobber. If
Sincere is one thing, it’s smart. No
way would he risk losing face by going out to fight a losing battle of guerrilla
warfare. I beat him to the punch
and neutralised one of his team. Therefore,
it is within reason to deduce that he decided to take a rain check on the confrontation
front, wait for the broken glass to grow out of SeAn’s face and hold off until
Destiny Fulfilled.
B.
He was never going to do anything in the first place.
What better for The Mastermind Of Mind Games to do than, quite
simply, nothing at all? Of course,
in either situation, he didn’t actually do anything, but at least in
this one he gets to keep his mystique. What
if Sincere was there just for the sake of keeping me on edge?
Inactivity is a form of psychological warfare…
Right, Professor? Half
the people reading this would mistake you for one of the new ‘New
Breed’, Jung-Lei… Is it wise, seven days from game-time, to no-show for the
sake of strategy?
Whatever
his reasoning and whether he says one word or a million between now and Fallout:
Destiny Fulfilled, he still has to step into the GZW2K1 ring of today with the
GZW2K1 wrestler of today, John Taylor. Beating
me obviously means a lot to him. I
mean, he’s sacrificed his Ring Of Honor Induction for another, what, two and a
half years? That seems to be the
going rate… I’ll be in
there by then. He’ll love that. I don’t know what it is that has drawn Sincere to me so.
Is it the petty old man within him clawing its way to the surface?
Is his intent to devalue and degrade today’s GZW or is it a desperate
leap for the modern fan to remember yesterday’s?
Only
he knows. Perhaps his goal is to gain my respect. It’s hard to tell whether I should be flattered that he has
gone to all this trouble to single me out of the whole roster or if I should
simply be frustrated that some washed-up old-timer is trying to waste my
precious time? The time that I
could be using to highlight the uninteresting, non-captivating farce of a feud
that has hi-jacked the World Heavyweight Championship and taken it along for the
slightly bumpy, predictable ride…
In
truth, I feel a bit of both. Having
headlined 100% of the Pay-Per-View events since the restart, things could prove
to be a little anti-climatic at Destiny Fulfilled.
But I don’t feel bad for myself…
I look at the lineage of World Heavyweight Champions and, more
importantly, World Heavyweight Championship matches, then I look at this
impending Highway To Hell match and I foresee darkness.
Depression. Famine.
Where the future was once bright, we are being strapped in and forced to
watch this tripe hog both the main event and my title belt until at least
Destiny Fulfilled. That’s if
we’re lucky. What if the match
were to end through conveniently inconclusive means and the out-of-touch booking
committee were to decide that they owe us a return match between the two?
What if they fancy Justin Sharp as the next John Taylor and, God forbid,
he takes on Pimp in three successive pay-per-view main events?
It’d be death. But of
course, Justin wouldn’t feel the need to be around to argue…
And Pimp is related to a sizable portion of the staff.
Everybody wins.
So
Sunday Storm came and went… What
exactly did it drag in, then?
New
Blood.
Storm saw the debuts of four or five new competitors to the active
roster. Bland Blade Arkhan got one
over on his old pals Chris Cairns and Bane.
He can’t pronounce the word ‘veteran’, yet I’m supposed to be
intimidated by or hand out a welcoming basket of respect to him?
What gives?
Bane’s
going to do something to him? Get
it over and done with… Realise, Banester,
that you are now in the coveted number one contender’s position. To the wise, that means sweet fuck all. As Justin Sharp will gladly tell you. Even still, ditch the Creation shtick and smell the coffee.
It’s boiling. Be the one to dethrone Pimp while I’m preoccupied.
Then
we had Quake, the second occupant of my ring when I came down to give
Sincere a piece of my mind. Not
doing as he and the aforementioned Arkhan were told and taking their bit
elsewhere was bad enough, I just hope he’s smart enough not to develop an
attitude, especially towards the reigning Lord Of The Coliseum…
Legendary
communist idealist Karl Marx rose from the dead…
In white trash form. Why
anyone would kick off their career with this company by giving themselves the
disadvantage of getting roped into an inconsistent, never-ending feud with the
inconsistent, never-ending Seven is beyond me.
From what I’ve seen of this Marx, they deserve each other.
No threat.
Briton
Jon Kellar dived head-on into a match with Reject…
Why? Without
hesitation, I’ll say that Reject isn’t a wrestler.
Even Kellar could probably wrestle circles around him…
But that’s the thing – He doesn’t wrestle. He doesn’t even fight.
He just destroys careers. Even
with your head held high, Kellar, you couldn’t save yourself from the
humiliation of last night. Let it
be a lesson – Stay away from the big, stupid ones.
They’re not worth your time.
Of
course, it seems like nobody told that to Jay Jameson.
Or, more accurately, somebody made it somebody’s business not
to tell Jaylius. Destiny Fulfilled
will be a long, long night for this kid.
Saving
such colourful characters as The Root Of All Evil and Brute for
another rainy day, something Pimp Bizkit said today really struck a chord with
me. It wasn’t that he said anything new or anything
groundbreaking. In fact, it was the
polar opposite. The very fact
that in defending himself, Pimp either chose not to or wasn’t able to
come up with anything new or even anything substantial stands as proof that I
have long surpassed him. Using
Return To Glory’s main event as evidence just doesn’t hold water. The notion that Pimp possesses anything near the power enough
to have created or ‘stopped’ Lord John Taylor is borderline
ridiculous. Pimp, allow me to make one thing very clear to you. This goes for Sincere as well:
Nobody
made John Taylor except John Taylor.
Got
that, both of you? Pimp, I’d
advise you give up the ‘I won at Return To Glory’ ghost…
You didn’t. That match
became a farce. Were Sean Fiery the
right man for the referee’s job, he would’ve awarded me the World
Heavyweight title by disqualification the second Nathan Williams broke
the ring. It’s mind-numbing to
even comprehend the type of person it takes to allow it’s central figure
carry such a title having never decisively won nor defended it. You didn’t make me, Pimp.
You’re not good enough to. Sure,
I can probably thank you for the occasional sympathy cheer I’ve
reluctantly become used to, funnily enough, since Return To Glory…
But you certainly didn’t make Lord John Taylor.
Enjoy
your stroll down Easy Street while it lasts, Pimp.
Whenever the pedestrian Sharp/Pimp fiasco is dead and buried, and
assuming you’ve prepared for rehashing another of your well-worn hairbrain
schemes, you must realise that you’ve got a line of at least a half dozen
angry, pissed off contenders gunning for that title of yours and, whilst
I won’t be down in the mud with them, you can bet that I’ll be at the very
forefront. Your tab has expired, Pimp.
Once your sad little one-sided verbal exchange has dried up and
Destiny Fulfilled is in the books, it’ll be time to either pay up or simply
get out of the hot seat. You and I
both know you can’t cut it long term, Pimp.
Make the most of this week.
And
did you hear all of that, Sincere? It
turns out I’m not quite the selfish jackass you once thought I was.
Try self-made. If the path
that legends such as yourself and Pimp Bizkit paved years ago were in any
way walkable, I would’ve been World Heavyweight Champion by mid-2002 at the latest.
But no, it wasn’t. The path you set out ‘for me’ was no path at all,
Sincere. It was but a glorified
service elevator, doomed from the start to only reach half-way up the proverbial
building. I had to take the
foundations you laid out and make something of them for myself.
As such, you can discard the ‘bragging rights’ for creating John
Taylor right now.
You
want people to remember where it all started, who founded the whole thing?
Write a history book.
You want to genuinely disrobe yourself of the mystique and immunity of an inactive legend and dive back into the deep end with John Taylor? Then show yourself at Destiny Fulfilled.
Copyright Two Thousand & Five