…CCPE vs The World…

After the final bell rang out at CCPE versus The World, I was a little despondent and distant.  I know how people looked at us.  They saw the whole of CCPE as a stable. A team of like minded individuals, and while that may be the case for a lot of us, it was never the case for me.  I never gave a damn what the others did.  Lauren? Obviously. Sebastian? Certainly.  Make no mistake, I do have respect, at least in a professional sense, for many of them.  Even those I respect, the majority, I wouldn't be caught dead in public with them.

Despite what people thought, collectively we openly disputed that we were a stable.  As time went on, it seemed as though we were becoming one regardless of our original intent.  We've had guys like Elijah Martin whining out loud that we were never there to back him up.  Chris Page himself was fraught with paranoia over betrayal, that someone might leave his collection of talent.  Bam Miller even fed that paranoia by suggesting rats and traitors.

Why would anyone stick their neck out for a sniveling little coward like Elijah Martin?  How could there be betrayal if this is merely a business venture?

Tonight, I thought a lot about the prospect of dropping Chris Page as my representation.  You are the company you keep and I am 100% unlike the vast majority of those upon his roster.  After helping his roster of cowards and clout chasers to victory, it was becoming clear that someone like me no longer had a place in Chronic Chris Page Enterprises.
Walking hand in hand with my wife, rolling our bags behind us, with Mufasa bringing up the rear, we began the climb up the steps to our 747.

"You're quiet," Lauren said to me.

"Huh?" I asked as we neared the top.

"Looks like we have company," she says as she enters the plane.

With the engines winding up, I hadn't heard her. After letting Mufasa in, I close the door. Stepping into the passenger compartment, I lift my head to see our visitor.

"Hey Unc," I say to Theo Pryce.

He sits with his feet propped up on the arm of another seat sipping on what I assume is a tumbler of whiskey.

"Thad, Lauren," he greets us.

"Theo, figure out what the hell is bothering him," she said to him. "We're fresh off two wins in one night and he's never this…"

"Depressed?" Theo suggested.

"I'm not depressed," I insisted.

"You two chat, I need my beauty sleep," she says as she exits into the hallway toward the back of the plane.

"Yo Thad!" comes the call from behind me.

Mufasa turns toward the galley as Jason Cashe emerges with a pair of meaty chicken drumsticks.  The lion snarls at the would-be intruder.

"Woah kitty," Cashe says as he stops in his tracks.  "Niiiice kitty."

"Give him your chicken," I strongly suggested to him.

"But it's my chicken," Cashe protests.

"Well suit yourself," I say with a smile as I take a seat with the plane beginning motion. "A hungry lion doesn't really care what's his and what isn't."

Cashe takes a bite and engages Mufasa in a staredown. The aging lion lowers his head and snarls.

"Heerrrre big kitty," Cashe said, cautiously leaning down. Mufasa takes a few steps forward before relieving Jason Cashe of the drumstick he coveted.  "Gooood kitty."

"Might wanna take a seat Cashe," I warned him as the plane began to pick up speed.

He hurries to the nearest seat as Mufasa curls up, satisfied with his winnings.  Moments later, Lionheart One is wheels up as we leave Las Vegas behind us.

"Have you given any thought to what we talked about on New Years Eve?" Theo asked.

"Never more than tonight," I replied quickly.

"What’s changed?"

"Nothing," I answered.  "That’s sort of the problem."

"I can't offer you more money than you'd make independently," he advises.

"I've never cared about money," I retorted. 

"Must be nice," Cashe interjects.

"I seek new challenges.  I never left for any other reason than I ran myself into the ground and I ran out of people I could help put on the map."

"What can I offer you to convince you to come back home?" He asked the all important question.

I didn't have an answer for him. Mostly because I wasn't even sure myself.

"There's a whole new roster for you to sink your teeth into," he continued trying to sell me. "And SAGA," Theo concluded.

'Interesting,' I thought to myself.  If I said I hadn't thought about one day working with my own flesh and blood in the business that made me famous, I'd be lying.

---

From the bottom of my heart, I want to thank you Atty.  It’s not easy to get up and shake off the atrophy that sets in when you’ve been resting your jaw for much of the last eight months.  You haven’t quite done that here but it is a start.

I mean I had to take matters into my own hands, see, I know you’ve never been one to avoid drama.  In fact, you actively seek it and you’re not shy about admitting it.  Do you think its beneath me to use my own personal drama to bait a drama seeker?  You have an opinion on every damn thing and I knew if I set the trap you’d walk right into it.

It’s not because I’m some super intelligent guy.  It is because I know people.  I know their ticks and their quirks.  And I know some people are impulsive.

Mainly, I know you.

---

...Key West…

Just from twitter I knew Chris was facing Ned Kaye.  Kaye was a member of SAGA and I knew they had been embroiled in a war of words with CCPE.  It made me think back to my first OCW run.  Up against a man beast for the now defunct Savage championship, it was Theo that showed up for me.

'What if he needed me now?' I thought as I stared out the window at the darkening sky falling over the Atlantic.  No one knows Chris Page like I do.  In big spots, he planned big moments.  My uncle was by and large the mouthpiece of SAGA.  If Chris Page wanted to send a message, Theo Pryce would be his target.

Quickly, I sent messages to Lauren and then Theo.

"Hey Sam?" I called into the cockpit through the radio.

"Sir?" He replied almost immediately.

"Adjust course to Green Bay, Wisconsin," I instructed him.

In seconds, the 747 rolls to a tight left turn, irritating Mufasa.

---

I know you Atty.  I knew your impulsive desires to enhance drama whenever you can.  I knew you’d take my situation with Seb Bryce and try to use it to your benefit.  In fact I wanted you to pounce.  I needed to know if I could still backhand slap a bitch without a second thought.

I can, and now you know it too.

You put some effort into your little twitter paragraph in an attempt to shame me for what’s going on.  Contrary to what most believe, I own my role in it.  I gladly accept all the heat so no one else has to feel it.  That doesn’t make me a good guy or a martyr or anything of the sort.  My mistakes are my mistakes and my flaws or my flaws.  I don’t make excuses for them and I damn sure wouldn’t slam a friend over similar mistakes without prior provocation.

The proverbial glass houses, as it were.

One sentence and a hashtag is all it took for me to figuratively knock you on your ass.

That tells me something.  While it might take some time to knock all the rust off, I can still go in and drop the mic on anybody.  And you weren’t the only one.  I rather enjoyed bitch slapping Dane Preston too.  Though, for very different reasons.

---

…Snow Job…

My heart raced with anticipation as Lionheart One touched down in Wisconsin.  In my head, I wondered what the reaction might be.  Until I was in flight elsewhere, I hadn't made up my mind.  Out my window, I see the police escort that'll take me to Lambeau.  I'm already late as it is, evidenced by the muted match ongoing on my screens.

As the plane slows, I rocket from my seat headed to my bedroom on board.  In the closet, I pull out my New York Pride hoodie. Hanging beside it, unbeknownst to me, was a SAGA t-shirt.  'Fucker knew somehow,' I thought with a smile as I quickly throw the shirt and hoodie over my bare chest.  After coming to a stop, I hurry Mufasa off the plane to the awaiting car.  At breakneck speed, we raced to Lambeau Field.

‘It was fitting,’ I thought. Lambeau was the location of the final chapter of Page versus Duke.  It was the end of one of the most storied rivalries in all of XWF history and no doubt, would be where the next chapter would start.  Chris Page isn't a rational man. Despite this being a business decision motivated by familial sentiments, there was zero doubt in my mind he'd take it personally.

Arriving at the stadium, Mufasa and I hurried through the tunnels.  I smacked the lion on his rear and he hurried ahead of me.  Just outside Gorilla, I could hear the fans and the boos.  I had no idea what was going on but it doubtless had to do with a CCPE advantage in one way or another.

Agents and producers stepped aside, weary of an unleashed lion sauntering through the hallway.  Only seconds later, they'd realize he belonged to me.  For the time being, I ignored the whispers and the 'holy shits' and the 'Hey Thad's.'
Mufasa rushes through the curtains.

"My Name Is Human," I said to the stunned producers. "Cue it up."

Even Vinnie Lane was stunned silent.  That is a feat all its own.



Walking through the curtains, Mufasa belts out his roar and the bass hits for "My Name Is Human."  Lambeau pops huge and the hair on my neck and the hardly visible hair on my face stand on end.  It’s the second most incredible feeling in existence.  There was no turning back now.

Stepping out onto the stage, Lambeau was electric.  The Lionheart was back where he belonged.  He was home.

---

Did you hear that Atty?

While I’ll agree and I’ve already said as much, my return to the XWF wasn’t nearly as dramatic and heroic as I’d have liked, my goal has never been to please my fellow competitors.  Everything I have ever done in this business, whether the fans were loving me or hating me, was to make them react.

Fell flat, Dove?

Nawww…

That was a pop.  That was a crowd of nearly 100,000 people welcoming home one of this companies favorite sons.  I wondered if I wanted to come back here.  When the music hit and the people popped, I knew it was right.

In Houston, Texas Atara… It all begins again.  You can’t be first and you won’t be last.  But you will be the next guest on the Thaddeus Duke Show.

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