Post by Technical Perfection on Jun 30, 2021 22:22:51 GMT -5
Jordan Cassidy:
You wanna know something, Copycat?
The shot is low quality, poorly lit. The cellphone’s battery is sitting at a cool 34%, the time is 3AM, June 29th, Cassidy obviously broadcasting the display from his device rather than a recorded video. The backdrop is Jordan Cassidy’s ceiling. It’s got a couple of cracks in and it’s painted in landlord friendly magnolia. And Jordan looks down into the camera, his hair slicked back. And he is pissed.
Jordan Cassidy:
You make life harder for me, for my fellow wrestlers. We trained hard, we get beaten down but we get up and we fight again. Because we have youth on our side. And we have all the time in the world ta take our lickings and ta improve. We’re not your next Prestige Champion, X*Crown Champion, whatever. But we can get to that level.
Cassidy’s face is reddening. His accent starts shining through from under the professional, easy to understand one he had been previously affecting. This is his last chance to impress and he knows it.
Jordan Cassidy:
When I entered this federation I had a short head over fuck all experience. Now, as the federation closes, I know more about the way the industry works and more about how I want to wrestle. I am a better man than I was back then, a better wrestler than the meagre pay check I collect would suggest. I ain’t that good. I know that. But I can become great.
The is pride in his achievements in Cassidy’s tone. Some would say undeserved but, hey, he speaks as if even the odd win was important to him and every loss at least taught him something.
Jordan Cassidy:
And if I didn’t progress? If I stayed on the bottom rung for five, ten years? I’d have quit long before then. I know the road is hard. There are great big speed bumps for me ta bottom out my ride on. But you, Copycat, have done nothing ta improve yourself over your career. I watched you at the Rumble. They talk about karma. You disproved that ‘cause you ain’t done nothing to earn those plaudits. Top ten for a guy who taps out ta his shoes when he tries ta tie his laces up? Top ten for a guy who goes down for a ten count trying ta open his fridge in the morning? You ain’t earned shit in my book. In all your years in the industry all you have done is to be a disgrace.
Now a little bit of spit comes out of the young Ohioan’s mouth. Jordan Cassidy is being intense. And very, very genuine. The mask he wore, metaphorically, slips with every bitter word he aims at his opponent...
Jordan Cassidy:
So you hang around, you goof off, you luck your way inta something that kinda looks like a decent performance. You make the undercard look like a joke. People think that I’m a putz because we have similar win loss records. Hi, I’m in my third year as a pro, I ain’t gonna win much. But I ain’t in it for the yuks. So when people talk about me, about other professionals in your situation, it bums me the hell out. How are you supposed ta make a name when you get mentioned in the same sentence as a quarterback’s footstool?
Cassidy leans down and the camera is obscured by his thumb for a second as he wipes the lens. A bead of sweat drips off his forehead and arcs out of the camera shot, weird angle that it’s at, briefly refracting the harsh LED light in his room into a tiny sweat droplet rainbow.
Jordan Cassidy:
So how do I lift myself outta the Copycat rank? I win matches. I make a name for myself as something better than a career loser. Because it ain’t too late for me. It’s way too far gone for you ‘Cat. Time’s gonna come calling on your career sooner insteada later and if the AWF, hell the pro wrestling world had a Hall of Shame you’d be a founder member. Five years down the line? I’ll be kicking guys like you’s asses from Maine to Cali to Washington State to Florida every night of the week. Because I dare to improve myself. Little by little I’m climbing my ass outta the shit pit you lie in.
Cassidy begins reeling off a few names of AWF’s past to illustrate his thoughts.
Jordan Cassidy:
What time is it where ya are, ‘Cat? I’m guessing it’s whatever time Terry Bradshaw tells ya it is. But here it’s late and I’m wired. Wired that I know I can beat ya because I’m just a better class of wrestler like Chris Card. Wired because I believe in myself and I will back myself ta the very end like Adam Sanders. Wired because I’m right like Dillinger. Firey like Betsy, talented like Tommy Strych’, Full of passion like Mav’, proud like Hype’, No holding me down like you can’t stop the Fox, straight shootin’ like Sniper, always lookin’ forward to my future like Jackie D, respecting my past like MGK and damn sure of who I am in the present like Ry-Y. Don’t matter if I’ve faced ya, I’ve watched ya and like a good student, I learned.
His little memory tour of AWF superstars complete, Cassidy returns to the matter at hand. And that matter is railing against Copycat.
Jordan Cassidy:
People are gonna ask why I’m pissed. People are gonna ask where that nice, smiling, friendly Jordan Cassidy went. Well look up, boys. I’m climbing the damn ladder and you forgot to notice when it was Jordan Cassidy got outta your sight good. This isn’t just the last AWF show for me. This is a chance to really put my stamp on the business. And that means stamping my foot right into your stupid perfectly round head. And then I pick you up and you’re begging and pleading, “No! Jordan! you just put your sole mark where my nose used ta be! Don’t spike my head into the mat!”
The condescending tone Cassidy uses to mock Copycat is damn childish. But the youngster, well he’s a child in wrestling industry terms. Maybe that’s worth a free pass?
Jordan Cassidy:
You know how it goes from there? I boot ya in the guts. I wrap my arm tight around ya scrawny little neck. And then I lift, cranking your body into the air so I can drop backwards and spike your head at a 45 degree angle into the mat. See while the fans keep thinking I’m a joke? They haven’t noticed that every time I’ve hit that DDT, that body lift has been getting higher, that angle of impact has been getting sharper. Trying ta put an opponent out with a basic DDT? Don’t work. Specialising on the DDT so it has the maximum chance of breaking a fool’s neck? That sounds more like it.
Cassidy widens his mouth and makes a bone cracking sound with his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth to punctuate that thought.
Jordan Cassidy:
This is the last chance in AWF ta make a show. Ta get people talking. Last chance in the shop window and I ain’t gonna be the one on the fire sale clearance rack. Last chance ta show that when you see Jordan Cassidy in the ring, you’re about to see the beggings of someone destined ta be famous. No, scratch that. Destined to be… NOTORIOUS.
There is a decisive pause, a let up in the rant to let that sink in.
Jordan Cassidy:
So Copycat, people mock me for saying the simple stuff. But those jeers at me are going ta turn to ashes in their god damn mouths. And I ain’t gonna stop saying them because my final victory will be saying those eight little words for some big gold belt, sometime in the future.
Cassidy smiles for a second. A false smile. He affects his more familiar and now artificial and hollow sounding “promo voice.” He holds two fists out over the camera and unfurls one finger for each of the following words.
Jordan Cassidy:
Hi, I’m Jordan Cassidy. And I’m gonna win.
Beat.
Jordan Cassidy: BITCH.
The feed is ended by a giant finger (perspective not being a consideration filming this) headed somewhere below the camera’s shot and a drop out to static.
You wanna know something, Copycat?
The shot is low quality, poorly lit. The cellphone’s battery is sitting at a cool 34%, the time is 3AM, June 29th, Cassidy obviously broadcasting the display from his device rather than a recorded video. The backdrop is Jordan Cassidy’s ceiling. It’s got a couple of cracks in and it’s painted in landlord friendly magnolia. And Jordan looks down into the camera, his hair slicked back. And he is pissed.
Jordan Cassidy:
You make life harder for me, for my fellow wrestlers. We trained hard, we get beaten down but we get up and we fight again. Because we have youth on our side. And we have all the time in the world ta take our lickings and ta improve. We’re not your next Prestige Champion, X*Crown Champion, whatever. But we can get to that level.
Cassidy’s face is reddening. His accent starts shining through from under the professional, easy to understand one he had been previously affecting. This is his last chance to impress and he knows it.
Jordan Cassidy:
When I entered this federation I had a short head over fuck all experience. Now, as the federation closes, I know more about the way the industry works and more about how I want to wrestle. I am a better man than I was back then, a better wrestler than the meagre pay check I collect would suggest. I ain’t that good. I know that. But I can become great.
The is pride in his achievements in Cassidy’s tone. Some would say undeserved but, hey, he speaks as if even the odd win was important to him and every loss at least taught him something.
Jordan Cassidy:
And if I didn’t progress? If I stayed on the bottom rung for five, ten years? I’d have quit long before then. I know the road is hard. There are great big speed bumps for me ta bottom out my ride on. But you, Copycat, have done nothing ta improve yourself over your career. I watched you at the Rumble. They talk about karma. You disproved that ‘cause you ain’t done nothing to earn those plaudits. Top ten for a guy who taps out ta his shoes when he tries ta tie his laces up? Top ten for a guy who goes down for a ten count trying ta open his fridge in the morning? You ain’t earned shit in my book. In all your years in the industry all you have done is to be a disgrace.
Now a little bit of spit comes out of the young Ohioan’s mouth. Jordan Cassidy is being intense. And very, very genuine. The mask he wore, metaphorically, slips with every bitter word he aims at his opponent...
Jordan Cassidy:
So you hang around, you goof off, you luck your way inta something that kinda looks like a decent performance. You make the undercard look like a joke. People think that I’m a putz because we have similar win loss records. Hi, I’m in my third year as a pro, I ain’t gonna win much. But I ain’t in it for the yuks. So when people talk about me, about other professionals in your situation, it bums me the hell out. How are you supposed ta make a name when you get mentioned in the same sentence as a quarterback’s footstool?
Cassidy leans down and the camera is obscured by his thumb for a second as he wipes the lens. A bead of sweat drips off his forehead and arcs out of the camera shot, weird angle that it’s at, briefly refracting the harsh LED light in his room into a tiny sweat droplet rainbow.
Jordan Cassidy:
So how do I lift myself outta the Copycat rank? I win matches. I make a name for myself as something better than a career loser. Because it ain’t too late for me. It’s way too far gone for you ‘Cat. Time’s gonna come calling on your career sooner insteada later and if the AWF, hell the pro wrestling world had a Hall of Shame you’d be a founder member. Five years down the line? I’ll be kicking guys like you’s asses from Maine to Cali to Washington State to Florida every night of the week. Because I dare to improve myself. Little by little I’m climbing my ass outta the shit pit you lie in.
Cassidy begins reeling off a few names of AWF’s past to illustrate his thoughts.
Jordan Cassidy:
What time is it where ya are, ‘Cat? I’m guessing it’s whatever time Terry Bradshaw tells ya it is. But here it’s late and I’m wired. Wired that I know I can beat ya because I’m just a better class of wrestler like Chris Card. Wired because I believe in myself and I will back myself ta the very end like Adam Sanders. Wired because I’m right like Dillinger. Firey like Betsy, talented like Tommy Strych’, Full of passion like Mav’, proud like Hype’, No holding me down like you can’t stop the Fox, straight shootin’ like Sniper, always lookin’ forward to my future like Jackie D, respecting my past like MGK and damn sure of who I am in the present like Ry-Y. Don’t matter if I’ve faced ya, I’ve watched ya and like a good student, I learned.
His little memory tour of AWF superstars complete, Cassidy returns to the matter at hand. And that matter is railing against Copycat.
Jordan Cassidy:
People are gonna ask why I’m pissed. People are gonna ask where that nice, smiling, friendly Jordan Cassidy went. Well look up, boys. I’m climbing the damn ladder and you forgot to notice when it was Jordan Cassidy got outta your sight good. This isn’t just the last AWF show for me. This is a chance to really put my stamp on the business. And that means stamping my foot right into your stupid perfectly round head. And then I pick you up and you’re begging and pleading, “No! Jordan! you just put your sole mark where my nose used ta be! Don’t spike my head into the mat!”
The condescending tone Cassidy uses to mock Copycat is damn childish. But the youngster, well he’s a child in wrestling industry terms. Maybe that’s worth a free pass?
Jordan Cassidy:
You know how it goes from there? I boot ya in the guts. I wrap my arm tight around ya scrawny little neck. And then I lift, cranking your body into the air so I can drop backwards and spike your head at a 45 degree angle into the mat. See while the fans keep thinking I’m a joke? They haven’t noticed that every time I’ve hit that DDT, that body lift has been getting higher, that angle of impact has been getting sharper. Trying ta put an opponent out with a basic DDT? Don’t work. Specialising on the DDT so it has the maximum chance of breaking a fool’s neck? That sounds more like it.
Cassidy widens his mouth and makes a bone cracking sound with his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth to punctuate that thought.
Jordan Cassidy:
This is the last chance in AWF ta make a show. Ta get people talking. Last chance in the shop window and I ain’t gonna be the one on the fire sale clearance rack. Last chance ta show that when you see Jordan Cassidy in the ring, you’re about to see the beggings of someone destined ta be famous. No, scratch that. Destined to be… NOTORIOUS.
There is a decisive pause, a let up in the rant to let that sink in.
Jordan Cassidy:
So Copycat, people mock me for saying the simple stuff. But those jeers at me are going ta turn to ashes in their god damn mouths. And I ain’t gonna stop saying them because my final victory will be saying those eight little words for some big gold belt, sometime in the future.
Cassidy smiles for a second. A false smile. He affects his more familiar and now artificial and hollow sounding “promo voice.” He holds two fists out over the camera and unfurls one finger for each of the following words.
Jordan Cassidy:
Hi, I’m Jordan Cassidy. And I’m gonna win.
Beat.
Jordan Cassidy: BITCH.
The feed is ended by a giant finger (perspective not being a consideration filming this) headed somewhere below the camera’s shot and a drop out to static.
