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Centurion · (07-26-2020)

"You weren’t The Brand. You weren’t T-Money. You weren’t the guy always going for the Universal Title, but you kept fighting and that’s why people loved you. " - Miyoko Kawashima, 2012

(Tokyo, Japan. The sight of many tragedies and triumphs in the world of professional wrestling. And the sight of the biggest match in Centurion’s career.

Under normal circumstances, someone in Centurion’s position would be taking it easy for the next week. He would be working out, relaxing, and getting prepared for his match. Centurion, however, is anything but normal. Not only does he enjoy the Tokyo nightlife too much to stay inside a hotel room, he still has some burnt bridges that he needs to rebuild.

We open up inside a private room at Taku, a sushi restaurant in Nishi-Azabu, Tokyo. The room is rather small – just a table with four low, flat stools to sit on – but it is also quiet, as it is isolated from the rest of the restaurant. A bottle of white wine sits at the table, opened but now poured. Seated at the table is Centurion – alone.

This does not last very long, as the sliding wood door into the room opens up. Centurion quickly turns his head toward the door, and he sees the person he has been waiting for – an old partner. A friend turned foe turned who even knows, and someone who has had a profound impact on Centurion’s career.

Former XWF wrestler and general manager Miyoko Kawashima.)

Centurion: Took you long enough. I was starting to get thirsty.

Miyoko: I was debating on whether or not I should bring a weapon with me.

Centurion: …and?

Miyoko: Fuck around and find out.

(Miyoko sits down at the table in front of Centurion as Centurion begins to pour two glasses of wine. One of the chefs of the restaurant, seeing Miyoko has arrived, walks into the room with a tray of various starters.)

Chef: Uni to men ga hajimarimasu. Yōi shite wa ikenai koto wa arimasu ka?

Miyoko: Subete motte kite.

(The chef bows before turning and walking out of the room, closing the door behind him. Centurion goes to speak, but Miyoko immediately cuts him off.)

Miyoko: Save it. I’m not interested in any apologies. All I want to know is, “why?” Why did you allow your loyalty to the WGWF get in the way of a ten year long friendship?

(Centurion goes to give his usual speech, but he stops and looks at Miyoko in the eyes. He’s expecting to see the look of fury or pain, but instead, it’s a look of true curiosity. This woman, who has every right to bash Centurion’s skull in with a hammer – much like Centurion did to her six years prior – sits patiently as Centurion takes a deep breath.)

Centurion: I’m sick, Miyoko. Sick in the head.

Miyoko: I know that. Everyone knows that.

Centurion: But I didn’t know how sick I was. I thought I was just struggling – that I’d do what I had to do and snap back out of it. But as the days went on, things got worse and worse. It got to the point where I didn’t want to be ME anymore. I had the WGWF, and Isabelle, all the money in the world, and I figured that could be my new life – that I could move on from the pain I was feeling. But these, THINGS, they weren’t me, no matter how much I wanted them to be. And eventually, the WGWF was gone, and Isabelle was gone, and the money was gone, and all I was left with was a cabin in the woods, a bottle of pills, and a bottle of scotch. That’s when I came to the realization that I could either deal with my trauma and work toward healing the pain, or I could just end it all.

Miyoko: And what made you choose the first option?

Centurion: The second one didn’t work.

(Miyoko’s face turns into one of shock and concern, but before she can say anything, the door to the room opens and the chef returns with two places of various fresh sushi. He places them on the table and bows before leaving the room. Centurion takes a sip of his wine, but Miyoko still looks concerned.)

Miyoko: Are you…ok now?

Centurion: Relatively. Here’s the difference – I know I’m sick now. I know I have these issues, and every day is a battle to keep myself on the straight and narrow. I need antidepressants and therapy, but I’m thinking more clearly than I have in…well, a very long time.

(Centurion grabs a pair of chop sticks and picks up a piece of sushi. He takes a bite out of it as Miyoko, still looking slightly concerned, takes a sip of her wine. Centurion’s eyes widen as he bites the sushi and proceeds to put the rest of it in his mouth. He sets down the chop sticks and puts his hands to his chest.)

Centurion: God damn this is good.

Miyoko: You’ve never been here before?

Centurion: No. I always go to the really fancy places – like Jiro’s – whenever I’m here. I guess I always just assumed that’s what I NEEDED to do as a tourist with money.

Miyoko: Jiro’s is great, but it’s also kind of a trap. It’s designed to attract businessmen with lots of money. It’s kind of like Kobe beef – sure, it’s good, but you can find steaks just as good for far less money. It’s all about marketing.

Centurion: As someone who used to shill for shitty bottles of water with Donald Trump’s face on it – trust me, I know.

(Miyoko cringes as she takes a piece of sushi of her own. Centurion takes a sip of his wine as Miyoko bites the sushi and places the chopsticks back down before speaking again.)

Miyoko: So what’s this shit I’m hearing? You’re going to be retiring again?

Centurion: What?

Miyoko: Yeah, press in Japan is saying you’re going to retire if you don’t beat this Warstein dude.

Centurion: Oh, no! That’s not what I said at all. I said this would be my last time competing for the Universal Title, and if I can’t beat Shawn on Sunday, I’ll never fight for the belt again. I also said Shawn might have to end my career if he wants me to give up in this match. But no, I’m not putting my career on the line. Not officially or anything, anyway.

Miyoko: I was going to say, if you said you were going to retire again…

Centurion: (interrupting) Oh, I know better than to do that now. I’ve had plenty of experiences with retiring and then not retiring that I’ll never tell anyone I’m “done” ever again. It’s far more likely I’ll just fade into the abyss…or die in the ring.

Miyoko: Please don’t die in the ring this weekend. I’ll probably be the one responding to the call.

(Centurion takes a bite of sushi when he lets out a “hm!”, a slight excited expression one makes when they want to say something but their mouth is full. He takes a sip of his wine before he talks again.)

Centurion: That’s right, I heard about that. You’re a cop now? What made you get into law enforcement?

Miyoko: It’s…a long story. One I’ll have to share the next time we get together.

(Centurion lifts his glass of wine for another sip, and a smile creeps over his face.)

Centurion: Will there be a next time?

Miyoko: That’s up to you. I have no interest in losing any more friends, but I also don’t want to get in the way of whatever “new life” you were looking to build…

Centurion: No, no, I’m over that now. There is no “new life”. I had to discover how blessed my real life was…and I have.

Miyoko: Good.

(Miyoko picks up another piece of sushi and goes to bite it, but she looks over at Centurion first.)

Miyoko: Because if you pull anything like that ever again, they’ll never find your body.

(Miyoko takes a bite out of the sushi as Centurion nervously takes a sip of his wine. He knows this isn’t an empty threat – in fact, the fact that he’s sitting here at all completely unharmed is a bit of a surprise.)

Miyoko: So…what are you going to do if you win?

Centurion: What? If I win?

Miyoko: Yeah. I mean, if you think about it, a huge part of your identity is the fact that you’ve never won the Universal Title. Like, every single opponent you’ve faced for two decades have used that as an attack line. If you win, you won’t be the “lovable loser” anymore.

Centurion: (dejected) Well, I never considered myself to be a loser before, but thanks…

Miyoko: You know what I mean. Everyone rallied behind you because you weren’t necessarily the top guy. You really embraced that role, too. But if you win, you’ll become…

Centurion: One of the greatest of all time?

(Miyoko does an “ehhh” hand gesture as she lifts her wine glass and takes another sip.)

Miyoko: I guess, if that’s what you want. What do you know about this dude? This Warstein guy? Young kid?

Centurion: Miyoko…it’s Fuzz.

(Miyoko goes to take another sip, but her eyes widen and she damn near chokes. She sets the glass back down on the table as she coughs, placing her fist against her chest. After a few seconds, she’s able to breathe again.)

Miyoko: You’re kidding me! Fuzz? The heroin dude?

Centurion: Yeah…well, kinda. He’s clean now.

Miyoko: He’s CLEAN? And he’s the Universal Champion?! What, is the dude immortal or something?

Centurion: Sometimes I wonder.

Miyoko: We’re all going to be wiped out in a nuclear blast and that dude is still going to be a champion somewhere, I guarantee it.

Centurion: Here’s the fuck of it…he’s still considerably younger than I am. By about…I think five years or so? He’s a lot younger than he looks. Hell, he’s a lot younger than he should be, given he started wrestling in 1999. Did he get his start in Japan? I thought that “child abuse disguised as pro wrestling” thing was only popular here.

Miyoko: (takes a sip of wine) Seriously? Go to the UK. Not only are children constantly getting trained over there, but apparently it’s a common thing for these head trainers to date their 16 year old trainees. I wonder if that’s where Michael Graves fucked off to.

Centurion: ….actually…

(Miyoko goes for a bite of sushi as Centurion stops and lets the atmosphere linger for a bit. After a few seconds, Miyoko’s eyes grow wide and she drops her chopsticks hard onto the table.)

Miyoko: You’re shitting me. He’s still THERE?! I didn’t even think he’d still be ALIVE!

Centurion: Well, despite everyone’s best efforts, he is still unfortunately with us. How do you not know any of this? Haven’t you been keeping up on the product?

Miyoko: Absolutely not. I haven’t watched a single XWF show since I was let go as GM. I was under the assumption that the place closed down. Here I am, going about my life, when one day, one of my colleagues walks up to me and says “hey, you’re old buddy Centurion is wrestling again.” I figured you were way too broken down to ever get back in the ring.

Centurion: You’re not the only one.

(Both take another bite of sushi and a sip of wine. Miyoko grabs the bottle of wine on the table and begins to refill the glasses. Centurion tries to stop her by putting his hand over his cup, but Miyoko moves it away.)

Centurion: No, I can’t get fucked up. I have to be on my best behavior this week.

Miyoko: Fuck that. If you’re going to win the Universal Title, you’re going to do it the only way Centurion can – none of this stuffy, “I have to train” bullshit. Tonight, we’re getting fucked up, because tomorrow, there’s someone we have to go see.

(Centurion looks at Miyoko with a quizzical look on his face.)

Centurion: Who are we going to see?

Miyoko: Oh…it’s a surprise.

------Keep Your Feet On The Ground When Your Head’s In The Clouds------

Dude. Shawn. Buddy.

…you have to let it go.

This anger you have built up inside you. This constant need to prove something to somebody. It’s the one part of Fuzz left in you that you have yet to get rid of.

Seriously, I don’t understand. What else is there for you to prove? All the years and all the accomplishments, and you’re still bitter. About what? The fact that some young punks didn’t know who you were when you came back? Vinnie Lane taking some shots at you on Twitter? What could possibly be bothering you so much that you have to be so fucking angry all the time.

You want to prove you’re better than me? You say people put us in the same category. Who?! Besides me, whose job it is to constantly hype myself up, who in the professional wrestling world could possibly look at my career and look at yours and think “oh, they’re the same person.” No one! You have been touted as one of the greatest to ever step foot in the XWF for the past fifteen years. Those that don’t respect you NOW wouldn’t respect you if you won a hundred titles and a thousand matches.

These “critics” only exist in your mind, Shawn. They have been put in there by you to give yourself something to fight. You don’t know how to be comfortable. It’s never happened in your life. Having a stable life, being respected by your peers, living an average, normal day – that shit was never you, and your brain doesn’t know what to do with it.

You want to know why you almost blew it with Atara? This shit right here. This constant paranoia that someone out there isn’t taking you seriously. The need to constantly prove everyone wrong, even if they’re not talking about you. “I’m only going to be around for six months” turned into a year and counting because you see too many young wrestlers looking to make it big, and you have to remind them who the hell Shawn Warstein is. “I’m going to walk away” turned into you cashing in the 24/7 briefcase because you just HAD to be the one to take down Engineer. “I’m going to slow down” turned into going into MMA, almost completely untrained, to fight in bloodsport style tournaments because you just need to prove how tough and badass you are, no matter what the discipline.

And in the end, Shawn, it’s not other people you’re trying to impress. It’s yourself. Every imaginary hurdle you make for yourself if the horrible sickness that lies inside your brain. If you just win this NEXT match. If you just complete this NEXT accomplishment. If you just hold this NEXT title, maybe then you’ll give yourself permission to enjoy life. In the meantime, you have to just keep chasing that rabbit.

That’s the interesting thing about this match, Shawn. No matter what happens, regardless of the outcome, our demeanors will be the same. Whether I win or lose, I have made peace with myself and my career. A win validates everything I ever fought for, and a loss solidifies my legacy until the end of time. But you, Shawn…beating me won’t bring you peace. All it will do is give you a new hurdle. You’ll find a new Centurion - someone to focus all your attention on, someone you prop up in your own mind so you can recreate the doubters in your mind.

And if you lose? Well…the thought hasn’t even crossed your mind. You won’t let it. Because, for some reason, the idea absolutely devastates you.

There are two wrestlers out there right now that I consider the “best in the world”. One of them is Sarah Lacklan. The other one is you. The difference between the two of you, though, is you have the age, experience, and wisdom to know how to navigate the water. I look at the full time roster in the XWF right now, and you’re fucking invincible. Robert Main, CCP – the reason they didn’t want to challenge you is because they know you’d slaughter them. So again I ask, who out there is saying I’m “leaps and bounds” ahead of you?

All I’ve heard is that I’m the “king of the midcard”. Even when I did what seemed impossible just a year ago and won a singles title in the XWF, everyone was discrediting my achievements. Hell, you do it every time you open your mouth. You think what you say about me is original? I have to hear it every fucking day of my life! And you know what, Shawn? I don’t care, because I couldn’t give a shit what these folks think about me. I’ve been in the XWF for 19 years. I won more matches than anyone in the history of this federation. Why should I give a fuck what a couple of rookies think about me and my achievements? Adopt this mentality, Shawn, and you’ll see a lot of peace in your life.

You keep wanting to compare careers, but this has nothing to do with that, Shawn. I don’t need to be better than you over the course of my career. You have the title reigns. No one is going to take that away from you. Even if I win, you’ll still have a several reign head start on me, and if I was a betting man – and I am – I would bet on you winning the belt again down the road. So you’ll have plenty of opportunities to shove your accomplishments down my throat. You’ll get to win match after match, title after title, and gloat about how awesome you are to everyone who will listen to you. No matter what happens, Shawn, you will have the better career than me. Our resumes are in no way equal, and when the history book of the XWF is written, long after we’re gone, you’ll be in a category above me.

I don’t need to be better throughout my career, Shawn. I just need to be better for one night.

That’s it. You can have the career, Shawn. Hell, I’ll even write your chapter in the history book for you, and I’ll include how amazingly awesome you are, and how Centurion’s career could never step up to yours in any way, shape, or form, if that’s what will make you happy. I honestly don’t care…because I need that ONE win. At this stage of our lives, in the health we’re currently in, if we fought 50 times, you’d probably beat me 49 times. But I need that one.

You’re right, Shawn – the wrestlers in the back DO fear you. They don’t just feat what you would do in the ring to them, but they fear being admonished by you. They know they can’t keep up with you, whether it’s in the ring or on the mic or anywhere else. And every time you see that fear in their eyes, you know you have the match already won. A wrestler that fears you can’t keep up with you.

It’s also why you wanted this match, Shawn – because I don’t fear you, and that pisses you off. I respect you, sure. I bow to your accomplishments. I shine a spotlight on you as you carry the torch for the “old guys”. But fear? No, of course not.

And it’s not because I’m cocky. It has nothing to do with hubris. The reason is simple – I’ve already experienced failure. I know what it tastes like. I’ve been through the lowest of lows, both personally and professionally. These young assholes, they don’t know what the depths of failure looks like. They lose two matches and suddenly they die their hair black and put on My Chemical Romance albums. Going from fighting for the Universal Title to fighting for the Xtreme Title isn’t a “crisis of confidence”. A crisis of confidence is sitting in a cabin by yourself, with a bottle of pills in one hand and a .45 revolver on the table, and the only thing stopping you from blowing your brains out after the pills didn’t kill you like you thought they would was the fear of leaving a stain on the carpet that couldn’t be cleaned. THAT’S what a crisis of confidence looks like. THAT’S what the depths of despair are.

So yes, maybe my tank is a little less than full. Maybe my body isn’t as healthy as it should be. Maybe I’m coming off a couple losses that have exposed me to the world. But ask yourself this, Shawn – do you think any of that REALLY matters? Honestly, deep down, do you think I give a shit about the last three matches? Because I can assure you, there is no quit in me. Not a single ounce. And while my tank may not be on full, I’m willing to go BEYOND empty. Hell, I’m willing to add a second tank. I am ready to tap into parts of myself and my personality that nobody has ever seen before.

I said before that I want you to tap into Fuzz. I was wrong. Don’t tap into Fuzz. In fact, do whatever the hell you want. My strategy does not change. I believe it was Gandhi who said “be the bitch you want to see in the world.” I’m ready to leave it all out there. Are you? Do you still possess the constitution to go as far as you need to go to see this to the end? You don’t have to answer that out loud, Shawn. Just run it through your head a few times. Maybe, eventually, you’ll realize exactly what you’re up against. I’m not a “Very Good” wrestler – I’m a fantastic wrestler. I’ve always been a fantastic wrestler. One may say I’m a Legendary wrestler. And right now, I’m a Legendary wrestler with nothing to lose, and 19 years of anger and frustration ready to be unleashed.

Enjoy Tokyo, Shawn. Enjoy your run with your new company. I honestly hope you end up holding the top belt over there…wherever there is. Enjoy everything this life has given you. As for me, I’ll be taking that long walk down the aisle, facing my greatest opponent yet, in my biggest match yet, with what amounts to my career on the line. And I’m going to sleep easy at night in the days leading up to it.

How will you be sleeping, Shawn? Pretty rough, I imagine. It’s alright, Shawn. All you have to do is prove, one last time, that you’re better than me. Deliver this one final victory, and I’m out of your hair forever. Just one win, and the one opponent that has been in your life like a fly in the summertime is gone from your purview forever. The one thing you’ve always wanted – validation. Right at your fingertips.

How’s the pressure feeling now, Shawn?

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