I always hear about the betting odds changing, but I have no idea where this betting is actually taking place.
submitted by I noticed yesterday that Paddy Power here in Ireland were offering odds on summerslam matches, how is this legal but fixing horse races or boxing matches is illegal?
submitted by Underground fighting, kind of an ironic name considering how promoted it is now. Every group of knuckleheads has their own YouTube channel, hell, bare knuckle boxing has became sanctioned as of late.
But there are still grimy rings with seedy individuals betting inordinate amounts of money on the outcome of a fight between two guys that are willing to go a little farther than the law would allow.
As you've guessed , I am one of 'those guys' don't get the wrong idea, I don't have a death wish, while its true you can find places that give a couple idiots machetes and watch the show, that isn't my thing. I'm just a good old, bare knuckle, no holds barred , not good enough to get into the ufc schmuck. It pays the bills and makes it so I only really have to work a handful of days a month.
The name's Terry Gilmore , and I'm not here to tell you about the mildly interesting world of semi illegal fighting...or rather, not the side of it most people see.
Like any other sport there is superstition, myth and legend. And the older guys, they have a rule, don't take fights from September 15th to November 1.
Ask 10 old heads why, you get 11 different reasons. Humidity leads to more injuries, spirits make bad luck, veil between world's thins, all kinds of crazy crap.
And most people laugh it off, schedule their fights, and are perfectly fine. I'm a pretty mediocre athlete truth be told, but in this regard, unfortunately, I'm not most people.
The fight takes place in a warehouse , spotlights hastily rigged up provide glaring illumination to the assembled crowd of scumbags just connected or rich enough to lose a few thousand dollars in a night and take the loss in stride.
I'm wearing loose shorts and no shirt, the spotlights are already making me sweat. My opponent is an older guy, 50s maybe, solid build, bushy grey hair and beard. He wears a pair of torn sweatpants and a sleeveless white undershirt. His face has the telltale signs of an alcoholic , and I really hope he isn't some poor homeless guy they dragged in at the last minute.
His confidant stride to the centre of the second rate ring made me realize that was not the case. The ref says nothing other than " Begin" as we touch fists and begin to circle.
He's a few inches taller than myself and has about 20 pounds on me. The advantage is most certainly on his side. But being half his age, there should be no way he has more gas than I do.
The first round is a boring affair. Both of us feeling each other out with jabs and feints, not wanting to commit for fear of taking a nasty cut early in the fight. Boxing purists will point this out as a flaw in bare knuckle bouts, from my point of view, if the goal is to make the fight as realistic as possible bare knuckle is the superior option.
The second round though, that is when I knew something was amiss. He came out of his corner like a bat out of hell , not the haymaker frenzy a lot of big guys with no skill try, but a constant pressure of jabs followed by heat seeking overhand punches I found myself stumbling backwards to avoid.
The first real blow that connects sends me into the boxing style ropes. I dodge the roundhouse right meant to finish me off and push forward, getting inside his guard.
One main difference, rules wise, to an mma bout is headbutts are perfectly kosher. As a shorter guy this is just about my only advantage.
I clinch up with the guy, who I notice is dry as a bone, and smells vaguely of sawdust. Instead of trying to take him down, or dish out some body blows though, I bring him in as close as possible, tuck my head and drive the top of my skull into his jaw.
I feel something give way and he falls back a bit. I'm shocked that i didn't put his lights out, but not enough to let up.
I assume he is more of a boxer so I start throwing some low kicks. They land as expected, seizing his oblique muscle. But that wasn't the goal.
On the fourth kick he throws his guard low, exactly what I was hoping for. I don't bother setting it up with a jab, I spin my torso into a devestating uppercut that lands with an audible crunch.
I think the guy has to be on something as he shakes his head for a second, obviously trying to clear away some cobwebs, but still in the fight.
I don't let shock make me stupid though, as he is getting his bearings I launch a roundhouse left, ready to back it up with a takedown if this guy's cement jaw keeps doing its thing.
He regains his wits quickly enough to see the powerful, albeit sloppy, punch coming. He reacts with a bulldozer of a left cross, meant to simultaneously block my blow, and take my head off of my shoulders.
But he wasn't quite quick enough. I turn my body and the punch misses cleanly enough that I look him directly in his surprisingly vibrant blue eyes. Right before my blow connects, and I see one launch itself from its socket.
I fight in a pretty brutal sport, and in an extra brutal league, but at the end of the day we are all still athletes trying to get by doing what we love. You get a few psychos now and then, but they are self defeating. If you are known for crippling folks no one is going to want to actually get in the ring with you.
With that in mind I took a step back, lowering my guard and saying " holy shit! " as I looked to the ref, who was unashamedly attempting to pick up on a pretty attractive lady in the audience.
The old man looks at me with one eye closed. No blood but I swear I see a thin line of grey fluid coming from the eye I unintentionally removed.
"Don't worry about me kid, you're in a fight." He says launching a push kick that widens the distance between us before the end of round bell rang.
He goes to his corner, and his cut-man, a young guy with pale skin an a moustache that makes him seem untrustworthy begins to work. I try to catch a glimpse of how bad I hurt the guy but I have my own wounds to attend to.
No cut-man for me, never saw the point in paying someone 15 per cent to take me out of the fight before I'm ready. That's the refs job.
I apply the last of a container of "quick stop" purchased from the pet store (mostly corn starch and lidocaine) on the worst of my cuts and feel the stinging and bleeding abate. We are on our feet again and as we touch fists, I first assumed I didn't actually knock the man's eye out. Clearly I was looking at a fully occularly typical person. Two perfectly functional eyes were gauging how much I had left in me.
The only problem was, one of the eyes was brown.
Maybe I'm punch drunk, maybe I just didn't notice it before , but my gut screams at me something is wrong. Especially when I realize that before the blows are even being traded I'm gassed, and my oponent literally hasn't even broken a sweat.
He's observant for someone who should no longer have access to binocular vision, and takes advantage of how winded I am. He launches a combination that I'm sure was the scourge of the city league 30 years ago. But we are not boxing.
I clinch up, taking a couple punches in the process but stealing his reach. He's not a grappler, and I easily get him against the ropes, heedless of the elbows and awkward jabs he is throwing.
I grab the ropes with both hands, trapping him, and gather up all my energy for as many knees as I can throw. The old man is out of his element , every time he lowers his guard he receives a headbutt to the jaw, as he defends against that I launch knee after knee, I feel his ribs crack , then break, and as the fifth knee lands, and I feel my muscles burning enough to make me disengage it feels like I'm striking a bag of melting ice.
His jaw is cocked, one side of his chest slightly caved, but he is still standing. And as I watch his jaw pops itself back into shape.
He whispers just loud enough for me to hear "You fought good kid, I'm gonna make sure you still come out of this looking decent." I think he is taunting me but his tone is very legitimate, and more importantly he does not sound ready to stop anytime soon.
Before I have time to set myself he fires off a kick that lands square in my stones. My body cramps up, and a wave of nausea overtakes me. Perfectly legal , though frowned upon blow in this sport.
A punch to the stomach follows , and as I go to a knee, the old man puts his hand over my nose and mouth in a death grip. I begin to retch and suddenly am waterboarding myself on my own vomit.
The ref, realising that aspirating vomit has killed much better people than myself calls the fight, a win for the old guy but judging by the booing from the crowd, not one that will get him another fight anytime soon.
The "locker room" was 2 industrial showers that sprayed what felt like ice and smelled like a week old mop. On the plus side there was a partition.
I begin washing the blood , sweat and vomit from myself and strike up a conversation with the old man.
"So what are you on that is letting you ignore that kinda pain, if it's not blowing out your heart , I think I need some. " I say , hoping it comes off as good natured ribbing.
"Not a thing to sell ya kid. But I do have an offer for you." He says cryptically.
"I'm not going to make the obvious joke about making me an offer in the shower, so I'll just ask, what's the offer? " suspicion creeping into my tone.
"I'm part of a promotion, and I think you might be good enough to join. You'd be making UFC money with your Streetbeefs talent." He says grinning a bit. I've made a deal with myself to not think about the fact I know I shattered that jaw.
"Look at you trying to sound all hip. Not interested in a snuff league man. " I say in a neutral tone.
"Nothing like that. Actually I'd say most of the time the rule set is going to be much stricter than these glorified barfights. Now, listen I could give you all the details now, with our Johnsons flopping around, and you are going to think I'm a liar, crazy, or some kind of pervert like that 'Competitive Tickling' guy from a couple years back. Better I give you my card, you see for yourself and make your decision. " the old man says drying off and putting on a pair of comfortable sweats.
I do the same, down to a similar oversized worn out sweatshirt and pants , adding a " great minds think alike." As I notice this similarity.
He hands me a card for a place called " Gym's" which, oddly is only a few blocks away from my place. Not that I think I can recall exactly what is there but I'd think I'd know if it was a gym or training camp.
"Come at 7am tomorrow or don't bother. " the old man says as we part our ways.
It'd be poetic if I said I didn't sleep the night before, but I did. In fact I'd pretty much decided this was going in a "competitive tickling" (look it up if you art getting the reference. If I had to find out about it undiluted so do you) direction and decided against it.
But now you get introduced to "Saw Guy" , now I know where you guys are reading this, so don't get too excited at that name. It's the nickname I've given to the guy who lives in the house next to my apartment. This man , I shit you not every weekend is up at the cracks of dawn sawing some bullshit for a home improvement project. . And you know what? I wish he was killing people because then , instead of having to deal with this bullshit when I want to sleep in , I could just have him arrested.
You can probably guess what happened next. I was bored, annoyed and up earlier than I had any right to be. I decided to go pay a visit to Gym's .
Sure enough a building that could have used a coat of paint, with a faded blue and yellow sign reading Gym's stood at an adress I could swear was just some houses last time I checked.
I don't prepare my mind for something horrific, just something…gross. Old people bondage club or fetishist bar or something. Luckily when I opened the tinted glass door , what I saw was a pretty big standard gym. Mma cage, boxing ring , treadmills, etc. And some slightly above average guys and gals who think they are warrior gods using them.
I'm greeted by the old man. He is wearing what I'd like to describe as 'business casual' attire. A pair of nice looking dress pants and a silk muted hawian shirt that is making up for its lack of taste by being obviously custom and very expensive.
He's had a haircut and shave as well and now has more of a James Randi vibe instead of reminding me of a blown out Mic Foley.
"You made it. Names Harold in case you never got it. Now are you the type that rips a bandaid off fast or slow?" He says with a bit of a smirk.
I point to my wounds from the night before , taking the time to notice there isn't a single mark on him, and say "not the type to use band aids." I say trying to show some confidence.
"Good to know. Gym!" He screams.
I hear a noise from the ceiling, I'm not trying to be funny but the closest thing I can think of it sounded like was the world's largest butthole taking the world's worst crap. A slimy , irregular slithering that drowned out the other sounds in the gym. I looked up I couldn't help it.
What I saw made me produce a layer of cold fear sweat. The ceiling of the gym was a rusted fleshy mass, rearranging itself into a massive face, staring dead eyed down at me. It grinned like a flayed emoji , I was at a loss for words.
"Gym " I say trying to not puke, faint or run.
"Who owes Harry ? Kid didn't shit himself." The face says, vibrating the floor with laughter.
The face disolves and I look to Harold, jaw agape.
"Things starting to come together?" He says putting an arm on my shoulder.
" I fucking hope not." I say as he starts to walk me to a back corner of the gym. "Because at the moment it seems like I'm being walked into a monster…"
"Okay, we are going to have to go over rule number one. You are acting like a 'Whedon' , that is our nickname for humans who try to frame everything in fiction. It generally leads to you putting your foot in your mouth and making really stupid paranoid comments. Then it leads to you acting like you have no choice , and generally being a real bummer to be around.
There are a lot of entities that do all the shit you are afraid of. But none here. Does that mean everyone loves you? Hell no, but we are trying something here.
It isn't a death pit, it isn't a ritual or some sick game. It's a promotion, we're 90%mma 10% WWE, we have health care, life insurance, and more cash to throw around than you can believe. Our refs actually look out for our fighters well enough I can say there is a minimum of 1 ufc ref worse." Harold monologues, I can tell he has practised this but I do get the vibe he is being sincere.
"Your talking about Herb Dean?" I say , trying to find something casual to say.
"Of course Herb Dean.
Anyway, we could use someone like you. You won't be fighting anything you can't handle, or don't agree to. I feel pitching it anymore is going to make you nervous , so , what do you say?" Harold finishes.
"First, why me? I could think of 20 guys better off the top of my head." I say , cockiness gone.
"It's not about that. We need the right kind of mindset, and you have it. You are no psycho, you are dealing with the destruction of your worldview well, you can keep your mouth shut and well, those 3 years on that kids show didn't hurt either." He laughs as we make our way to a skinny guy working a heavy bag in a pretty masterfull fashion.
The guy turns to us and thankfully I'd just seen an eldritch ceiling tile , as it let me react with a little less gusto to this fresh horror.
He was wearing extremely oversized workout gear, with a ruddy, almost infected reddish skin tone, greasy long black hair , a mouth that seemed too small for his face, and massive black almost hamster like eyes taking up a third of his face.
But these were not the most disturbing feature, his hands were massive things, not deformed and cancerous but lithe, with palms the size of dinner plates and 2 feet of undulating knuckles on each hand.
He extends one to me and talks in a soft almost childlike whisper "It is a pleasure to make your aquiessence, good bedfellow".
I shake his hand, which feels like it could rip my arm from its socket. But turn to Harold.
"The hell did he just say?" I whisper.
"Don't try to analyse it too much, go for broad strokes. He says hi and is happy to see you. " Harolds tone indicates this is something he is very familiar with. " And to answer the question, yeah in a free for all, or in a dark alley he'd destroy you. But the fight is going to be Queensbury rules, heavy gloves and with a ref that has as many eyes as you have fingers. There is one catch though. "
"Here it goes, this is where the creepy pasta starts." I say with a sigh.
"That, you are Whedoning all over the place with a comment like that. 'The creepypasta starts' you dramatic little princess.
The catch, before you humansplain any more to me is you need to help out a bit with our friend Syz's training. He's got the gimmicks, he's got the skill but he lacks that…he's a bit of a teacup. 10 grand for 2 months plus what you will be making in your other fights. You in?" Harold confidence that I am is not unfounded.
And that is where I am , writing this in an understocked lunch room just having agreed to not only fight but train a monster. Can I do it ? Should I be doing it?
I've always been a risk taker, and I guess this is just the next in a series of dangerous d ecisions, but it's feeling like I'm in a bit over my head
submitted by The Man:
Mike Evans, 26-year-old outside receiver going into his seventh season for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.
Current ADP #23 (ECR #21) on FantasyPros, WR8 on Yahoo, WR7 on ESPN (PPR).
The Myth:
Mike Evans, who was successful as the deep threat for former QB Jameis “YOLO” Winston,
will SUFFER from new QB Tom Brady’s inability to make deep throws and penchant for short passes to breakout slot receiver Chris Godwin. The Legend:
Mike Evans, king of jump-ball bombs and contested catches,
will THRIVE as an WR1 from TB12’s accurate long throws and efficient red-zone looks, and will be the Bucs leading pass-catcher in fantasy points.
Justifying the Hype:
Mike Evans is currently being disrespected with a lower ADP than his slotty counterpart, Chris Godwin, who exploded last year as the league’s overall WR2. Now that reckless gunslinger Jameis Winston has been replaced with soft-lipped boomer Tom Brady, the expectation is that Godwin will prosper from TB’s "dink-and-dunk" short passes, while Evans will be a forgotten part of the offense due to the lack of desperate Hail Mary’s from TB's apparently disintegrating arm. However, that could not be further from the case. Evans may be inconsistent each week, but he has always been – and will continue to be – a guaranteed WR1 producer that will prove to benefit from Brady's improved accuracy and higher football IQ. To answer some of the questions lowering his perceived value:
CAN HIS NEW QB, TOM BRADY, SUPPORT A BIG-BODIED DEEP THREAT/RED-ZONE RECEIVER? He’s already done it before – Brady has a well-documented (but quickly forgotten) history of success throwing to tall, big-bodied receivers…especially in the endzone. His love affair for these big boys first started when Randy Moss was fatefully traded to New England in 2007. Prior to the trade,
Moss was fading away with career lows in Oakland. How did his first season with Brady go? He resurged his already legendary career by catching
98 passes for an astounding 1,493 yards and 23 touchdowns, becoming the new (and still!) record holder for most TD receptions in a single season. In fantasy terms, he averaged an
incredible 21 fantasy points per game (ppg) in half ppr!
Moss had a great tenure with the Pats - even with Brady’s injured 2008 season - until their eventual breakup in the middle of the 2010 season. Brady rebounded his lost red-zone connection with a childlike ogre named Rob Gronkowski. And boy oh boy was Tom able to move on quickly. Gronk had a great first year with Brady, especially considering how notoriously difficult it is for rookie pass catchers to excel during their first year, particularly so for Tight Ends. Despite
only starting 11 games, Gronk caught 42 passes for 546 yards & 10 TDs. He followed that with his best year to date:
90 catches for a spectacular 1,327 yards and 17 TDs, averaging 17.9 ppg. Brady would continue to feed Gronk with quality targets and touchdowns to make him an annual first round pick and one of the top scoring TEs in NFL & fantasy history.
But what about Godwin? – If you're worried about the emergence of Chris Godwin stealing looks, don't be. Brady has a proven history with supporting both his large RZ receiver and his smaller slot receiver. For every highlight-reel game Moss played with TB, there's also
Wes Welker averaging 15 ppg. For every league-winning match with Gronk, there's still Wes Welker out there averaging 14.5 ppg until he left for Denver in 2013, where
Edelman took over and averaged 13 ppg.
But he hasn’t done it lately? – True, but that’s partly because NE only recently focused on utilizing world-class defense and a battering run game. The Pats started their 2016 season with Brady suspended for the first four games due to his involvement with the
controversial "Deflategate" scandal. To prepare for this, Bellichick created an effective game-plan based on employing a disciplined "bend, don't break" defense while establishing the run. Their defensive ranks previously hovered between above average to mediocre per PFR.
The Patriots rampaged all the way to a Lombardi via human battering ram LeGarrette Blount, who produced an amazing
1,161 rushing yards and 18 rushing TDs! It obviously helped that
their defense was also ranked number one in the league. In fact, this was
one of only two seasons in the past decade (at that point) where a single Pats receiver hadn’t scored 10 or more TDs. FYI, 2013 was the other season, and Gronk just happened to be injured during both years. Which brings me to the next topic...
But what about Gronk? – Gronk is back! But is he really? Has any offensive player ever “retired” for at least a year, verified their retirement with a
worrying change in physique or
hobbies, then come back and had a successful fantasy season? Not
Marshawn Lynch. Not
Jason Witten. Not even
Ricky Williams, who “retired” after only his third season for legal reasons. While Gronk may get a few RZ looks, he retired for a reason, and Evans will easily demonstrate why he deserves to be TB's new goal-line favorite.
But can TB12 still do it? – The rumors of Brady's arm's death are greatly exaggerated. NFL.com ranked Brady as the
#4 best deep passer last year. If you don't trust their opinions, then PFF provides a more analytical approach and
ranked Brady at #14. Keep in mind that he only had a single game with Antonio Brown's Big Chest, six games with the ghost of Josh Gordon's, then had to rely on Phillip Dorsett the rest of the way. Regardless of these obstacles, TB actually had the
fourth largest improvement in his deep ball accuracy when compared to 2018.
So we addressed Evan's "new QB" questions. On to the next concern...
CAN HIS COACH, BRUCE ARIANS, SUPPORT AN AGING QB? He’s already done it before – Buccaneers head coach Bruce Arians has experience working with another "aging, old timer" QB. In 2013, Arians became head coach of the Arizona Cardinals, who acquired veteran QB Carson Palmer via trade with the Oakland Raiders. When Palmer was traded to the desert, the public viewed him as
"unspectacular," "lost," and "nearing the end of his career." During his first season under BA,
Palmer threw the most passing yards (4,274) he’s ever thrown at that point. So no “new offense” jitters with a seasoned vet like Palmer, and I would bet the same for a pro like Brady. Additionally, Palmer’s next full season (he was injured early during his following season) saw him throw not only his
highest passing yards ever at 4,671 yards, but also
broke the Cardinals single season TD record with 35 TDs! BA was able to coach Palmer into playing at his personal best during the twilight of his career, and I anticipate the same happening with Brady.
CAN MIKE EVANS BE A WR1? HE'S ALWAYS DONE IT – Seriously, look at his stats. In his entire NFL career,
he's never gone under 1K receiving yards, and
averages 8 TDs/year. This includes his rookie year, where both Mike Glennon & Josh McCown shared duties as his starting quarterback. His
career fantasy average is 14.0 ppg (0.5 ppr). He
led the league in drawing PIs last year, which I'm sure Brady will love to exploit often. Even FantasyPros predicts 2020 will be his
best season yet. The biggest drawback with Evans is that while his season total numbers are impressive, he is wildly inconsistent from game-to-game. This reminds me of another highly drafted WR who routinely has extreme boom or bust weeks but always finishes the year as a WR1. That man is Quintorris Lopez "Julio" Jones.
Everyone loves Julio Jones because he has a proven history of high season totals. Even the savviest of managers are willing to draft him early year-after-year, despite being fully aware of his
unpredictably volatile weekly production. The allure of Julio lifting your whole team to reach the highest of highs is worth suffering through sporadic weeks of the lowest of lows. Well, if it’s crazy boom-bust potential that you’re seeking, look no further than Mike Evans. Still-anxious owners last year can remember nervously watching each week to witness Evans either conquering
insanely high peaks or suffering through
soul crushing valleys. If watching Jones play is as anxiety-inducing as watching a film like "Parasite," then Evans is like watching "Uncut Gems."
In just 14 games last year, Julio Jones finished the fantasy season (weeks 1-16) as the
#4 WR in all formats. Mike Evans? He ended the season early as
#5 in std,
#8 in 0.5ppr, and
#11 in ppr in only 13 games started. Had he played another game like Julio and scored his fantasy average in std (12.8 ppg vs Julio’s 12.0 ppg) and half ppr (15.3 ppg vs 15.2 ppg),
Evans would’ve topped Jones and outranked him. And his two missed games were against Detroit and Houston’s weak secondaries!
Jones has a proven track record of inconsistent consistency, yet he is currently going in the late first/early second round of fantasy drafts as the
consensus WR5 with an ADP of #14 (ECR #12). Meanwhile, Mike Evans is going in the late second/early third round as the
consensus WR8 with an ADP of #25 (ECR #24).
Mike Evans is a volatile WR1 who should thrive as TB12's new favorite deep threat target and red-zone toy. He's proven to be good for at least 1K yards, regardless of QB. His new QB has proven he can support a deep threat with a strong slot receiver. His coach has proven his offense can support multiple wideouts with a new, aging QB. Evans is a WR1 available at a discount with great TD upside and an improved floor. Don't forget about him.
TL;DR - DRAFT MIKE EVANS. HE'LL HELP YOU WIN YOUR LEAGUE.
Previous posts:
League Winner Alert: Draft Melvin Gordon, TD King submitted by We open our scene, as we’re in the serviceable Nashville Municipal Auditorium, as we have a rowdy southern crowd on hand in the Music City! Some crowd members living up to the city moniker, as we see a few guys in what looks like novelty country get-up with acoustic instruments. As we pan over to our commentary table. Paisner: Hello everyone! And welcome to another edition of House Party! I’m Allen Paisner-
Woodbridge: And i’m Mark Woodbridge.
Paisner: And we got another fantastic show lined up tonight! As we see battles such as Buster Braggadocio vs Viktor Ivanov following the confrontation by Romero and Buster against Vanguard at a McDonald’s. Marshall Wheeler looking to rebound from abandonment, and Jericho Styles looking to rebound from getting fucked up as they face off! We will see the debut of the unintentionally eccentric wrestker Dexter Flux against unintentionally eccentric medical professional, Doctor Ishmael Yellowstone. We will likely see Chip Rutgers get his ass whooped by Joey McCarty. And of course our main event for #1 Contendership to Kaitlyn Casey Jone’s Independent Title, as Dick Dover and Tony Stevens square off for a huge opportunity! Plus much more! But now, there’s one match I did not mention, and it’s our opener! We send it to Javier in the ring!
We cut to the ring to see Javier, who stands at the ready for the opening bout.
Javier: The following contest is scheduled for one fall-
Crowd: ONE FALL!!
Javier: and has a 30 minute time limit, refereed by Mia So Hung!
Repent by Shaggy hits the Nashville Municipal Auditorium as Ikbal Rizwan makes his way to the ring and fans reach out to high five the former QWF superstar as he seems happy to be greeted with a warm reception at the venue.
Javier: Making his way to the ring, from Islamabad, Pakistan, weighing 310 pounds, IKBALLL RIZWAAANN!!!
Crowd: WOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!
Woodbridge: Even the hicks out here in Tennessee know who Ikbal is and they’re hyped to see him compete tonight!
Paisner: This young man carried the entire QWF federation during its short lived existence, holding its World Title the entirety of its lineage and then bringing it over to WiR after our revival. He then held it for a few months longer before losing it in a unification match with the WiR Champion Kyle Scott, but Ikbal’s dominant reign solidified him as a threatening competitor and a dangerous opponent in that ring.
Ikbal Rizwan now makes it past the fans and to the ring and walks up the ring steps, and as he makes it in the ring he beats his chest and salutes the crowd as they cheer for him again.
Now,
The Devil by Black Stahli plays and the arena instantly boos the evil looking man that enters as he begins a slow and focused walk to the ring.
Javier: Making his way to the ring, from Columbus, Ohio, weighing in at 223 pounds, SETH BLACCKHEARTTT!!!
Crowd: BBOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
Woodbridge: Blackheart looks completely oblivious to the arena of people who want to see him get dropped for the three count tonight!
Paisner: Last week he showed a sick lack of remorse after possibly giving a concussion to Jericho Styles, shaking the limp hand of Styles shortly after recklessly punting him in the head.
Seth ignores every single person jeering him as he remains completely focused on Ikbal Rizwan, who stands in the corner staring back at Blackheart with determination. Blackheart makes it to the ring steps and walks up before coming through the second and third rope into the ring. Both competitors settle into their respective corners without having taken their eyes off each other as Mia So Hung checks the boots, elbow pads, and kickpads of both competitors for foreign objects before calling for the ring bell.
DING DING DING! Blackheart wastes no time extending a hand in the middle of the ring to Ikbal, who quickly moves forward to oblige before leaning back to put space between them but Seth keeps a hold on Ikbals hand and stares Ikbal down, but Ikbal has none of it as he kicks the hand away from his own! They stare each other down now, keeping their distance with much less trust than seconds prior!
Crowd: LETS GO RIZWAN!
Clap clap clap-clap-clap LETS GO RIZWAN!
Paisner: Blackheart warned Rizwan in a cryptic video message that he’d better accept a handshake lest he end up like his opponent last week, but he might have narrowly avoided a nasty fate that left him laid out flat!
Woodbridge: I dunno, Pais, maybe Rizwan overreacted there and just didn’t expect a good old-fashioned gorilla grip handshake?
Paisner: Well, he coulda got hit with a gorilla grip spinebuster, so smart on Ikbal for immediately noping out of the handshake.
Blackheart and Rizwan now slowly circle each other before locking up in a collar and elbow tie-up, but Rizwan quickly overpowers and yanks Blackheart into a front facelock. Seth quickly backs up and the two bounce off the ropes and Blackheart pushes Rizwan to escape the hold as Rizwan now gains momentum and comes off the opposite ropes. Blackheart drops to the mat as Rizwan jumps over, comes off the ropes, and as he comes off those ropes with a picked up speed, Blackheart attempts to hip toss Rizwan, but can’t get the larger man off his feet as Rizwan counters and throws Blackheart onto the mat with an arm toss!
Crowd: YEAAAAA!!!
Blackheart quickly snaps back up to his feet clutching his back and tries to now put space between them but Rizwan runs at Blackheart and tries to clothesline him over the ropes, but Blackheart ducks as Rizwan goes over the top rope but skins the cat and lifts himself back into the ring!
Woodbridge: That man is over 300 pounds, the strength to be able to lift his own body weight back into the ring is remarkable-
A SMACK rings out through the venue when Blackheart immediately launches a chop to Rizwans chest as soon as his feet hit the ring!
Crowd: OHHHHH!!
Paisner: Remarkable strike by Blackheart to the broad chest of Rizwan!
Blackheart now launches another chop to the chest of Rizwan, who has his arms wrapped in the ropes so a 5 count is now administered by Mia So Hung. Blackheart ignores her and launches chop after chop into Rizwan’s chest!
Crowd: BOOOOO!!!!
Rizwan’s chest is now red as the chops continue and the count reaches 4 but Rizwan suddenly fires back and launches a LOUD chop that sends Blackheart to the mat!
Crowd: OOOHHH!!!! ONE MORE TIME! ONE MORE TIME!
Rizwan now picks up Blackheart to his feet and launches another loud chop, but this time Blackheart manages to stay on his feet, and throw a chop back, but Rizwan blocks it and now launches another chop that has Blackheart stumbling back into the middle of the ring! Rizwan launches another one and Blackheart is nearly on the ropes but as Rizwan approaches Blackheart for another one Blackheart ducks and launches himself at Rizwan’s knee with a shoulder block!
Woodbridge: Ohh! The sudden low strike after a series of chops seemed to have caught Ikbal off guard, as Blackheart has dropped his opponent to one knee!
Blackheart now backs up and tries to send a boot into Ikbals head but Ikbal ducks his head beneath and grabs under the legs of Blackheart to attempt to pull him down for a pin! But Blackheart isn’t pulled down, and instead launches a stomp right onto the eyes of Rizwan!!
Crowd: OHHHH!!
The ref reprimands him for targeting the eyes but Blackheart tells Mia to back off him for her own good as Blackheart stares down at Ikbal, backs up, and attempts to punt the head off Ikbal, who barely pulls himself out of the way by the ropes just in time!
Crowd: Ohhh!
Ikbal is up to his feet and throws a clotheslines but Blackheart ducks and
hits a NASTY arm trap neckbreaker! Crowd: OHHH!!
Woodbridge: He might have broke his neck the way it landed on his shoulder!
Blackheart goes for the cover!
1! 2- No! Kickout!
Blackheart doesn’t let up as he now transitions into a headlock with Rizwan in seated position, choking the life out of Rizwan with a bicep around his neck!
Paisner: Blackheart is able to transition so fluidly between slowly draining the life out of you, and instantly knocking the life out of you, and having to anticipate which one he’s going for must be brutal for even as experienced a competitor as the former QWF champion!
Rizwan stomps his feet on the ring as the crowd begins to clap in a rhythm and rally him out of the hold, and a headbutt is launched back into the nose of Blackheart, who seems pained but keeps the hold on tight! Ikbal hits another headbutt to the head of Blackheart, right onto the nose, and the grip around Ikbals neck is becoming loosened as Ikbal lurches his head forward and swings it back for one more headbutt but Blackheart let go and instead uses Ikbals momentum to throw him to the ground and hitting a double foot stomp to the face of the grounded Rizwan!
Crowd: OHHHH!
Blackheart falls down for the cover!
1! 2! KICKOUT!
Crowd: YEAAA!!!!!
Woodbridge: Ikbal Rizwan has been able to survive the onslaught of offense but he’s gotta turn this thing around, cause y’aint winning a match by kicking out at 2!
Paisner: You’re right, Mark, and we know that Rizwan is more than capable of unleashing that offense, but right now, he needs to find a way to reverse the momentum that Blackheart has been in firm control of with his brutal arsenal of offense.
Blackheart takes a breather in the corner now as he stares at a worn down Rizwan with a cold, calculated gaze. Seth grabs the ropes of both corners as if to restrain himself as he lurches forward, and Ikbal is on his hands and knees trying to gather his bearings. The crowd begins to see what Blackheart sees and begins to start getting loud and concerned in anticipation for the next sequence!
Woodbridge If Blackheart connects with the Punt here you might as well count to a hundred!
Seth has his head low as he holds onto the ropes and seems to have an almost trance-like stare at his grounded opponent, and the crowd is yelling at Blackheart not to go through with it, but he lets go of the ropes and gets a running start and a swinging kick at the head- NO! DROP TOEHOLD INTO THE STS!
Crowd: YYEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!
Paisner: KHYBER LOCK! BLACKHEART’S IN BIG TROUBLE!
Blackheart desperately claws at the arms of Ikbal but the Stepover Toehold Sleeper is locked in tight around the neck! Blackheart tries rolling over but Rizwan has a good 100 pounds on him and has the leg locked in, and Blackheart can’t get out from underneath the larger man! Blackheart looks tormented in the hold, his long hair hanging in his face as the massive arms of Rizwan wrench back tighter and Blackheart looks like he’s beginning to show signs of fading!
Crowd: TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP!
Blackheart looks desparate and has nowhere to go as he begins to lift a hand out for the ropes but there's none in the vicinity as the hold is locked on right in the middle of the ring, and as his hand begins to tremble near the mat he reaches back in a last ditch effort and claws at the eyes of Rizwan!
Crowd: BBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!
Paisner: NO!! RIZWAN CLUTCHES AT HIS ALREADY TARGETED EYE!!
Blackheart now rolls out of the ring, grabbing at his neck and gasping for air as Rizwan clutches at his eye still and tries to tell Mia what happened but she explains she didn’t see it from her angle as Rizwan takes a minute to recover in the middle of the ring.
Paisner: Damnit, Blackheart resorting to such nasty tactics yet again in this match!
Woodbridge: Have you SEEN the fingernails on that guy? If I’m Ikbal I take the countout and go straight to the bathroom to wash my eyes out-
Paisner: Mark. Come on.
Blackheart has caught his breath and rolls back into the ring, and Rizwan is only just getting to his feet as Blackheart kicks him in the gut and puts him in position for a piledriver!
Paisner: He’s going for Penance, and if he hits this jumping sit-out piledriver it could be game over for-
Rizwan swiftly counters by wrapping his arms around Blackhearts torso, shifting his head out from underneath Seth’s legs, and hitting him with a northern lights suplex that he instantly transitions into a Triangle arm chokehold!
Crowd: YEEAAAA!!!!!!!
Paisner: IKBAL!!! Back in control with the Himalayan Suplex Clutch!!!
Blackheart yells in agony but this time he doesn’t let the submission sink in as he instantly summons all the strength he has to lift Rizwan up!
Crowd: ooooOOOOOOOOHHH!!!
Blackheart somehow lifts Rizwan almost above his own head but Rizwan lets go of the hold, manages to flip onto his feet, and Rizwan is swift with the go-behind and lifts Blackheart up into the air and slams him down with a suplex takedown!!
Crowd: YYEAAA!!!
Ikbal then maintains a gutwrench and rolls Seth into a pin!
1! 2- NO! KICKOUT!
Rizwan still has control of Blackheart and slides around to convert the hold into a grounded front facelock! Blackheart hits a right to the gut of Ikbal!
Crowd: Booooo!!!
And Ikbal counters with a right hand to the face of Blackheart!
Crowd: YEAAAA!!!!
Blackheart responds with a nasty slap to the face of Ikbal that seems to set him off!
Crowd: OHHH! YOU FUCKED UP! YOU FUCKED UP! YOU FUCKED UP!
Ikbal delivers a wicked chop that lights up the chest of Blackheart! And another! The chops resound with brutal thwacks as Blackheart is sent reeling against the ropes, but Blackheart stops the momentum cold with a boot to the gut of Rizwan!
Crowd: BOOOO!!!!
Blackheart runs the ropes now, coming off and attempting a big boot, but Rizwan ducks underneath, and hits a quick body scissors takedown with his legs before rolling up Blackhearts legs against his chest and rolling on top of Blackheart and folding his arms! The pin!
1! 2! Blackheart reverses by lifting up his shoulders and now wrapping his arms around the torso of Rizwan, pulling himself up and spinning around before leaning down for a backslide pin, but Blackheart doesn’t drop Rizwan, instead lifting him up into a Crucific Powerbomb and throwing Rizwan into the turnbuckle!
Crowd: OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
Paisner: OH MY GOD!!!
As Rizwan comes off Blackheart kicks him in the gut and wrenches the head under his arm as he grabs the tights and jumps back and lifts Rizwan
into a Penance Piledriver!
Crowd: BOOOOOOO!!!!
Woodbridge: SPIKED ON HIS HEAD! IT’S OVER!
Blackheart goes for the pin and hooks the leg!
1! 2! 3- NO! Crowd: YYEAAAAA!!!!!!
Paisner: Rizwan survives one more move! But can he possibly overcome the amount of punishment he’s taken over the course of this match?!
Blackheart seems frustrated now and lifts Rizwan to his feet once again, and sets him up in a DDT position.
Woodbridge: Looks like he’s answering your question, Pais! If he hits his Blackheart DDT, Rizwan won’t be getting back up!
Blackheart attempts to pull at the head of Rizwan but Rizwan snaps into action with a Northern Lights suplex!
Crowd: YEEAA!!!!
But instead of turning it into the triangle arm choke again, he maintains the grip around Blackhearts torso, bringing them both back up to their feet before planting another Northern Lights suplex!
Crowd: ONE MORE TIME! ONE MORE TIME!
Rizwan grips tight to Blackheart and swings his hips to turn back onto their feet, and with a tight grip around his waist and head under the arm of Blackheart, Rizwan goes for one more but Blackheart suddenly grabs a suffocating grip of Ikbal’s head under his arms and then grabs the tights of Ikbal and pulls him
into a Blackheart DDT!!!
Crowd: BOOOO!!!!
Paisner: What’s he doing? Blackheart isn’t going for the cover, he’s instead clawing over to the corner- oh no.
Blackheart, now seething with a deranged look on his face, takes off from the corner and PUNTS the head of Rizwan!
Crowd: OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
The crowd’s sickened reaction seems to put a smile on Blackheart’s face as collapses onto Rizwan for the cover.
1! 2! 3! DING DING DING Javier: Your winner at a time of 12 minutes and 22 seconds- SEEETHH BLACCKKHEARRTTT!!!
Crowd: BOOOOOO!!!!!!!
Blackheart leans down and shakes the hand of the limp Rizwan before the ref separates him and checks on Rizwan to make sure he’s alright. Blackheart rolls out of the ring and ignores the mudslide of boos from the Tennessee crowd as he walks out of the venue as calm and collected as he was when he entered it.
Woodbridge: Good christ, he probably could have won with just the DDT! I get he wanted to put him out but that just felt excessive!
Paisner: Another opponent downed by the gruesome Punt kick, and Blackheart’s mean streak seems to only have just begun. God have mercy on this company.
Rizwan comes to eventually and waves off Mia So Hung but looks like he’s gonna need an ice pack as he now leaves the ring clutching at his head.
Our camera cuts backstage to Stephen Romero, having a salad peacefully in catering, before he is interrupted by one Tony the Milkman, entering, and holding a leather jacket in one hand, which is covered in a fingerless glove, and the cardboard belt in the other. Stevens: Brother Romero, you seem to be having issues with… those who wish to harm you.
Jim Baker also enters, and stands behind Milkman. Stevens: But never fear, Romero! Your old buddy Tony Tag Teams has a solution. You see when I was having my issues with that piece of shit Joey McCarty, I realize that what I needed even more so than the $2.75 I make when I sell a gallon of milk, is a friend. Somebody who watches your back and you watch theirs. I know you’ve been accosted already by Buster…”
Stevens holds out the jacket to Romero, which he tentatively takes. Stevens: But I hope you’ll… consider joining our circle of friends.
Romero looks at the jacket in his hand as Stevens and Baker walk out, closing the door behind them. Romero seems to be considering the offer… for a moment, before throwing the jacket to the ground. Romero: Nah, not feelin’ it.
Romero picks up his salad and heads out. The camera pans to over to the fallen jacket, where we see one Dexter Flux sneaking around the room. He picks up the jacket, tries it on, and walks out with the jacket on. We cut to Chad Hammocks standing in front of a door that is decorated with small flags in the colors of red, white and blue. Chad awkwardly knocks on the door and waits for a few seconds. Behind the door you hear the music quiet down.
???: Shhh.. shh..!
A few second later, the door swings open.
Large group: SURPRISE!!!
Chad is flabbergasted, shocked as a smile appears on his face.
Chad: You guys.. how did you know it was my birthday!
The entire group looks on happy for him as Hammocks slowly steps inside.. until Louis Blackwater appears.
Blackwater: Nevermind! You’re not Dutch.
Chad’s smile disappears in an instant as we hear an audible sigh escape from him.
Blackwater: But hey.. that doesn’t mean you can’t join the party!
Chad looks on confused, staring back at Blackwater.
Chad: ..what party then?
Blackwater: This party! Let me show you around, ya ol’ chump! Come with me.
As the camera pans around, we see many homeless people wearing celebratory hats as they look around, probably looking for drugs.
Blackwater: We’re holding a party to celebrate Mark Dutch’s victory over Maverick last week!
Chad: ...where’s Dutch?
Blackwater stares around blankly before he turns back to Chad.
Blackwater: No fucking clue, to be honest. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t celebrate. It’s like how we celebrate Lincoln’s birthday on the 4th of July. He’s dead, but we still shoot firework!
Chad: That’s not..
Blackwater: Let me introduce you to someone tho I think you will really like.
With an arm wrapped around Chad, Blackwaters walk over to a
rather large woman wearing neon colored short shorts and a fluorecent yellow bra that is barely covering up.. her. She stands there holding a hand full of cake which she bites from, seeing her
inner mouthflap tongue sometimes appearing between her fingers to lick frosting off her fingers.
Blackwater: So this is… what’s your name again?
???: It’s Suga Rise, sugar.
Blackwater: God I love that woman. Chad, this is Sugar level. Did you know that she was a.. lady of the night?
Chad looks over at her, his eyes traveling up and down before he looks back at Louis, who looks back with a smirk and raised eyebrows.
Chad: I had an assumption.
Blackwater: NOT ANYMORE! It’s dangerous outside, Chad. Who knows who’d want to hit you over the head with a bat because you licked their butthole? Well she does.
Chad: Well.. congratulations on your.. improvement.
Suga Rise: Thank you, sugar. I’m an escort now.
Chad: what?
Blackwater: Yeah! She works inside now as we hired her here to add a bit more.. sex appeal, you know?
While Chad looks more confused about what he heard, all of a sudden the music playing gets changed from a happy tune to
Five Finger Death Punch. Blackwater immediately looks over and sees a veteran messing with the iPad through which the music is played. Blackwater claps his hand and walks out of frame while he is heard shouting.
Blackwater: HEY! WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT USING THE iPAD?!
The camera still looks at Chad who is standing there with Suga. Her hand is now placed on Chad’s shoulder while she looks into his pockets, possibly trying to find a snickers bar.
Chad: ehh.. back to you guys?
We come back to the ring, where we see Jaiver standing, ready for more action. Javier: The following contest is scheduled for one fall!
Crowd: ONE FALL!
The PA hits an absolutely ICONIC synth line as Duval’s finest rolls out on the finest BMX bike Walmart has to offer spraypainted tea. He’s wearing his signature Gators jersey and bright teal cargo pants. Javier: Introducing first, weighing in tonight at 169 pounds from Duval Country, Florida. Chip Rutgers!
Crowd: Yaaaay!/BOOOOOOOO!
Paisner: what why is chip garnering such a strong mixed reaction
Woodbridge: Well, it’s all a matter of perspective. The WiR fans in the crowd see Chip Rutgers, cult hero and fan favourite. The locals see a dude in a Florida jersey.
Rutgers rides to the ring, but misjudges the steepness of the ramp and rides right into the side of the ring, crashing into a trampoline set up for Jericho Styles’ entrance later, and flipping into the ring onto his face.
Crowd: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!
Woodbridge: WHAT A SICK STUNT!
Paisner: I don’t think that was on purpose..
Woodbridge: EVEN BETTER!
Rutgers lies face-down in the ring for about a minute before pulling himself up on the ropes and standing, to the cheers of the crowd, just as they turn to boos when
We get some real grimey guitar as Joey McCarty’s theme hits.
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Joey McCarty walks out from behind the curtain… wearing a
fishbowl helmet! Javier: And his opponent, weighing in tonight at 235 pounds, from Woodstock, Ontario, Canada. Joey McCarty!
Paisner: Why does McCarty look like spaceman?
Woodbridge: I dont fucking know maybe he just wants to look like an asshole
McCarty runs to the ring, jumping over Rutgers’ bike, and rolling into the ring.
DING DING DING Rutgers: POCKET SAND!
Rutgers grabs sand from his lowest pocket, and throws it at McCarty. The sand just kinda bounces off the face mask. McCarty just stares Rutgers down
Rutgers: uh
Rutgers frantically checks all his pockets, finding nothing but sand. McCarty begins walking towards
Rutgers: UH
Rutgers finds his fireball, but fumbles it. Panicked, Rutgers grabs for his last pocket, and throws its contents at McCarty. But it’s just cold spaghetti, and he misses McCarty and whaps Maurice Chondon.
McCarty grabs Rutgers and NAILS him with the
Five Minute Major! 1 2 3 DING DING DING Javier: The winner of this match, at a time of 1:46, JOEYYYYY McCARTYYYYY
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOO!
Paisner: Well Joey enters the win column for the first time in a while
Woodbridge: On the other had, the run of losses continues for Rutgers
Paisner: Yeah let’s scrape Chip’s body off the ring while we head to commercial. More right after this!
COMMERCIAL We fade in from the commercial break. We see that a table and three chairs are set up, one on one side, and two on the other. The crowd is at a lull in the action. Woodbridge: Allen, you know you don’t have to do this. This is something that should be handled in private.
Paisner: Allen, what other choice do I have? I’m a man, and I’m going to fight this like a man. Just...watch my back, okay?
Woodbridge: You got it, pal.
Allen Paisner stands up, and takes off his headset. He then walks over to the ring announcer, and grabs three microphones. He slides the microphones in, then slides in himself. The crowd claps, giving some support to Allen. He picks up the microphones while getting up, and sets them up on the table. He grabs one, and begins to speak. Paisner: Are we having a good time, folks?
Crowd: YAAY!!! PAISNER! PAISNER! PAISNER!
Paisner: Good, well as you saw on the last program, I was...served with paperwork. Now, normally, in situations like this, it would be handled and settled privately behind closed doors, but if that man, and he knows I’m talking about him, has any
guts he’d handle this out in the open, so that the whole world can see what a pretentious little bitch you are!
Crowd: YAAAY!
Woodbridge: Get him, Allen!
Paisner: So I reserved this time tonight to address the allegations and such brought before me, and now at this time, would the gentleman or gentlemen...come down and let’s settle this thing, right here once and for all!
The crowd cheers. Suddenly a man comes walking out holding a leather briefcase. He ignores the sea of boos he receives walking down the aisle. He walks up the steps by the corner of the ring and enters the ring, awkwardly. Woodbridge: Of course he doesn’t show up. He just sends his goons.
The man lays his briefcase down. He picks up a microphone and begins to speak. Lawyer: Hello ladies and gentlemen, my name is Carlos Alberta. I’m the legal console for the plaintiff in this case, who wished to remain anonymous.
Paisner: Cut the crap, we know it’s Balandran, he’s just too much of a coward!
Crowd: He’s a pussy!
clap clap clapclapclap He’s a pussy!
clap clap clapclapclap Alberta: Very well...I am the legal console for Austin Balandran regarding this case. He did not wish to be present at the proceedings, but he is watching via stream. Now, I’m sure you’ve read over the list of complaints and debts you owe to him. Now, of course the last thing we want is for this to go to trial...so we have a settlement offer.
Woodbridge: Oh lord, here we go.
Alberta: Recently, my client was in a match at one of your iPayPerView? I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with wrestling. But what I do know is the basic rules of the match. His belief, and my belief, is that he was downright cheated in the finish of the match. His shoulder was up, and the match should have continued. But the match was awarded to Daniel Smith, correct sir?
Paisner: Yeah, I guess. What’s the point, that was weeks ago.
Alberta: My client is willing to forgive those debts on two conditions. One, you acknowledge that the match was indeed flawed, and sticken from both men’s win loss record.
Crowd boos Woodbridge: Oh come on! That’s ridiculous!
Alberta: And two...you award Austin Balandran the number one contendership for the WiR Championship.
Crowd gets angrier. Crowd: BULLLSHIT! BULLLLSHIT!
Paisner looks around, thinking. He then pulls the microphone up to his lips. Painser: Can I speak to your client? Face to face. This is something I want him to hear. I won’t give you an answer unless I can see him.
Alberta nods, pulls out his phone. He then calls out. The crowd quiets down a bit so they can hear, but the audio doesn’t pick up on what he’s saying. Then CASH plays over the PA. Austin Balandran emerges from the curtain. The crowd immediately boos. He has the world’s biggest grin on his face, like he pulled off the heist of the century. He spins around showing off his suit. He then enters the ring finally, and picks up a microphone. Balandran: Well, Allen. Looks like you’ve finally seen the light, son! Now you know...that you’re not shit around here! There’s not a person around in this company who wouldn’t do what I’m doing to you right now. Only difference is, is that you pay them so little to where they would just rather leave than to
FINALLY bring justice to your front door. And now, as you’re
NEW...number one…
Paisner: Shut the hell up!
The crowd roars as Austin looks stunned. Paisner continues. Paisner: You know, I’ve been thinking long and hard about the things you’ve said about me, to me, and to other people. And I’ve got to say, I may not like a lot of guys due to their attitude, but you...I hate you. I hate your stinking guts. I hate the fact that you blindsided me with money in order for you to get any kind of notice around here, and if you think that WiR would
fail without you, our
savior, mister, you’re dead wrong!
Crowd: YAY!
Paisner: THAT MAN IN THE FRONT ROW IS WiR!...THOSE KIDS IN THE CHEAP SEATS...THEY’RE WiR...EVERY PERSON IN THIS ARENA EXCEPT FOR YOU...IS DOUBLE YOU. EYE. ARE!
Crowd: Dub I R! Dub I R! Dub I R!
Austin laughs. Balandran: But these people didn’t pay your bills, Allen. I did. These people didn’t make sure that everyone left with a paycheck. I did. Not Maverick, not Stephen Romero, and sure as hell not Kyle Scott. Me. So before you beat your chest, you need to remember who you’re speaking to. I am the de facto owner of WiR whether you like it or not.
Crowd boos. Woodbridge: Maybe in an alternate timeline, but not here, and definitely not now.
Balandran: All you gotta do to save yourself and this company that you love, Allen...is sign.
Alberta pulls out a piece of paper from his briefcase. He slides it over to Painser, who then smiles. Paisner: How about this, Austin? Since you’re better than everyone else, how about this? First person to come out here, right now, gets a match with you at “It Just Means More.” That man wins, you drop your lawsuit. You win...you get what you want. I’ll do it.
Austin grins. He looks over at his lawyer, who shrugs. Balandran:...you’re on.
Crowd explodes. Woodbridge: What a bombshell! But who’s gonna answer the call?
Balandran: But your man only has one minute to show up...or it’s just gonna be me and you.
Austin starts to move closer to Paisner, who’s trying to escape… Suddenly. Woodbridge: WHAT THE HELL!?
Balandran turns around to see if his ears are deceiving him. He looks all around, trying to figure out what’s going on. He takes his jacket off and throws it out of the ring, motioning towards the entrance. Out walks…KLUTCH! Crowd: YAAAAAY!
Klutch looks around. He takes a deep breath and then looks at Balandran. He points at Balandran, then starts to make a beeline towards the ring. Austin jumps out of the ring as Alberta jumps out too, wanting no part of this. Austin meets Klutch in the middle and they begin to trade blows back and forth. Klutch hits a big right hand to Balandran, causing him to retreat towards the ring. He rolls in as Klutch follows closely behind, chasing him. Paisner backs up, not wanting to be in the way. Woodbridge: Balandran trying to get away!
Balandran turns around and is greeted with a swift kick to the gut by Klutch. Klutch then sets up Balandran for the Y2Klutch, but Balandran pushes his legs away and escapes the ring. Klutch then looks around the arena then back at Balandran who’s halfway up the entryway now. He points at Balandran. He then looks behind him and sees Paisner. He then pulls him in, and raises his right hand. Klutch’s music kicks back on and the crowd goes nuts. Woodbridge: You know, typically, it’s hard to bet against Austin Balandran...but now with Klutch back in the fold...Austin’s in for a long night at It Just Means More! We’ll be right back folks once we get some order restored here. Hell yeah, Allen!
Paisner, wiping tears from his eyes, audibly saying thank you as we fade out from the scene Camera fades in from the previous action Dan Smith: "-and trust in god and his will, as even when you can't see it, it's at work."
Ain't No Grave By Johnny Cash starts playing, a slow moving montage moves along the Smith household, from the Mitt Romney poster in the garage to the rusted jeep to a grey scaled Book Of Mormon being read by Dan Smith to his litany of children, spread across the floor like a pre-school reading session. Each Child gets their own individual shot, intently looking at their father, who now smiles and tells them to go to their rooms Dan Smith: Am I a little bit disappointed my title match hasn't been booked yet? of course. But what kind of a holy man would I be if I strayed from god's light and let myself give in to the sin of anger? I have been blessed by god to be put in this position and given the strength to whoop Balandran. Now I just have to wait around for the next chance I'm given to show god's gifts. But until then, I have to run some errands around the house before the ole ball and chain gets mad at me...she really can pack a punch dad laugh unlike some of the others on the roster. Anyways, I gotta head back to bible study.
The camera pans out, showing another kid clamped onto his leg We come back to the ring once more, where we the threatening presence of Iron Man by Black Sabbath signal Marshall Wheeler from out behind the curtain. Walking with a certain determination to prove himself after being left behind, not paying any mind to the audience as he makes his way to the ring. Then shortly after, we hear another tune, as Comatose by Skillet signals the arrival of Jericho Styles, his head still bandaged up from being punted last week, but looking mostly functional as he makes his way down. Slapping hands with fans and kissing babies, as he reaches his trampoline, jumps on it a few times to his own amusement, before stepping off and entering the ring normally, as Undersach then calls for the bell! DING DING DING The match starts off, as the two men circle around one another, before Wheeler makes the first move! Getting a go-behind on Styles, but Styles reverses into his own go-behind! From which he drops down and trips up Wheeler’s legs from behind! Dropping Wheeler face first onto the mat! Wheeler springs up onto his knees holding at his face, as Styles runs the ropes, and comes back to nail Wheeler in the head with a kneeling enziguri! Rocking Wheeler and dropping him to the mat, as Styles then quickly decides to go high, running towards the ropes, and jumping off to land a springboard moonsault that he pins off of! Getting a 1.5 in the process! Styles then lifts Wheeler back up, and nails him with a kick to the left leg! Then to the right leg! Then he uses his left leg to kick Wheeler in the chest, then his right to kick Wheeler in the chest again! And then, he swings with the left leg for the head! But Wheeler catches it, and uses the leg to pull Styles in, and take him down to the mat with a vicious lariat! From there Wheeler goes on the assault, first stomping Style’s chest in, then mounting him to rain down forearms upon his head. Styles tries to crawl away, but Wheeler keeps Styles near his grasp, lifts him up, and whips him into a corner upon which he rushes Styles and nails him in the head with a vicious elbow strike! Then a whip into the opposite corner for another elbow strike! Then back into the original corner for a third elbow strike! Then back into the opposite for a fourth elbow strik! Styles seeming about to fall over onto the mat if it weren’t for Wheeler keeping him up, and bringing him closer to the center of the ring, where he whips Styles into the ropes, and finishes off the elbow string with a vicious spinning back elbow! Absolutely clocking Styles, dropping to them at like a sack of potatoes, Wheeler covers, but only for a 2.5! Wheeler then goes to quickly get back on Styles, picking him up, setting Styles right in front of him, then swinging with his short arm lariat to finish Styles off! But suddenly, Styles kicks Wheeler’s arm away, then pulls out a desperation codebreaker on Wheeler! Leaving Wheeler completely dazed on the mat, as Styles can’t directly capitalize due to exhaustion! Styles then eventually begins to make his way up, Wheeler not long after, Styles seemingly prepared for this, as when Wheeler makes it up, Styles charges, and takes Wheeler’s head off with a shoryuken like jumping uppercut! Flattening Wheeler to the ground! Styles with a new found confidence, lets out a roar of determination! Before picking Wheeler up, whipping him into the ropes, Wheeler getting caught up in them, as Style’s comes in, and jumps up high for a springboard “rainbow” cutter! But he connects with nothing! Wheeler suddenly ducks his head under, and grabs Styles from behind in a rear naked choke! Styles panics, reaching for the ropes that seem oh so close to him, but barely unable to grasp, as Wheeler slowly backs himself off to the middle of the ring, Style’s struggling unable to save him, as Wheeler drops down and hooks Style’s in a bodyscissored rear naked choke! Fully locking in “Lifeblood”, as Style’s taps out! DING DING DING Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Wheeler securing the win via submission in 7:01, takes a moment to catch his breath, before standing up, and looking down on the nearly passed out Styles with a smug satisfaction. Ringside crew assist Styles to the back, as Wheeler makes a confident stride there on his own two feet submitted by Our guide to legal pro wrestling betting will detail all important aspects of wagering on major promotions such as the WWE and AEW. We’ll cover the legalities involved with wrestling betting, how to read wrestling betting odds, and the best online sportsbooks taking wagers on WWE and AEW matches. A reminder that WWE/Pro Wrestling betting is only legal in Europe, but still fun to discuss for Americans. Please also visit DraftKings, who usually has a game for anyone to play for free by ... A surprising number of online sportsbooks and bookmakers offer WWE betting. You can find odds and lines for most events at any of the top WWE betting sites we recommend on this page, and many other trusted sports betting sites. It’s worth noting that WWE betting odds and lines can vary quite significantly. WWE betting is offered by sports betting sites. So, if you live in any of the 14 states, you can bet on WWE matches and events online. Check out this link for the best NJ sports betting sites. Legal sports betting sites have shown they are up for “the Show of the Shows.” WWE WrestleMania 36. The wrestling matchups will take place on Saturday, April 4 and Sunday, April 5 beginning at 7 p.m. EST. Instead of being held in Tampa, Florida as originally planned, it will take place in Orlando, Florida at an unused WWE performance facility.
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