And so here we go – as if this wasn’t predictable enough. The ‘go home’ show before Super Relentless, the night I finally face my tormentor (Robert Main). It’s all built toward an event less than a month away.

So, who do they line me up against?

Chris Page.

Who’s Chris Page, you ask?

Well, I’m gonna tell ya. Chris Page is a main event player in XWF. He’s something of a legend. A man who all rookies aspire to be one day. Defeating Chris Page is the type of achievement that vaults a person into the Universal Title picture.

Unless, of course, you’re some newcomer who has been selected by a nervous champion in the hope/idea/belief that it’ll equate a sure win and secure a title reign that isn’t embarrassingly short.

If you’re not a-party to THAT scenario then you must earn a Universal Title shot like every, other legit competitor. By winning. By defeating increasingly tough competition, climbing each promotional rung, until you’ve reached the top with a chance at grabbing the price dangling within reach.

“Well, that sounds great, man...so why the negative ‘tude?”

Why the negative ‘tude, you ask? Well, first of all...don’t shorten words like attitude, it just makes you sound . Second...if you’d let me FINISH then maybe, perhaps...quite possibly the answer would make its way into your ignorant brain without the need for fishing.

THE REASON for what comes off as negativity is a giant, enormous, humongous, massive boulder that accompanies Chris Page. His partner. His heavy. His insurance. The very man that completes his essence.

Robert fucking Main.

Yes, the same Robert Main I’m destined to go to war against in a few short weeks.

“Oh, okay...well, maybe you can send Main a message by defeating Chris Page...that would be kewl.”

Oh, would it? WOULD IT BE KEWL? And what is KEWL, anyway? You still stuck in the late 90’s, pal? I guess it would be ‘cool’ if I beat Chris Page. But by looking at that end result you’re ignoring a gaping hole comprising the middle of said scenario.

This isn’t some up-and-up challenge to test my abilities. It isn’t an ‘opportunity’ for The Wizard. No way, man. This is an opportunity for Robert Main.

Why does a dominating force like Main team with a fellow commissioner of carnage like Chris Page? It isn’t to gain notoriety. It isn’t to hasten a rise up the ranks.

None of that is needed. They are BOTH marquee names within the federation.

So, why?

To lighten the load. To make whatever challenge(s) they face easier.

A person fights their way to the top. It’s tough. It’s difficult. At times it seems impossible. THEY BARELY MAKE IT. Skin of their teeth type of deal.

You reach the top and then what? What’s your biggest fear?

Falling.

Plummeting all the way back to the bottom.

While you relish in your achievement you know all-too-well what it took to get there. A process you wish to never again experience.

You’re willing to do whatever it takes to stay on top.

A task far tougher than any climber could imagine. Once you’re on top, everyone (and I do mean EVERYONE) seeks to unseat you. They come at you. People you’ve never heard of...individuals with existences foreign to your professional purview emerge from the opaque thicket with you set in their sights.

Careers are made over night. Legacies are written in one match. Three seconds or a pounding of the mat can rewrite a person’s entire narrative. You beat a legend and you are suddenly unforgettable.

It’s the golden ticket. A winning sequence of numbers. That run at BlackJack every degenerate prays to experience. Pocket Aces at the final table of the World Series of Poker’s Main Event.

I could go on but you get the picture.

So, not only must the person on top fight off fatigue, boredom, complacency, age, injuries, fellow legends, etc etc etc...they must also stomp back, stave off a countless stream of wannabes.

It’s exhausting.

And, it can be impossible without aid.

Robert Main and Chris Page found each other amidst a cavalcade of would, could, and should bes. Realizing the task far greater than previously understood, they made a pact to watch each others back...to hold strong their portion of the XWF main event table in perpetuity.

There is no blame from my end over this deal. I’m not shaming them. It’s a smart, sound deal. Hell, I may even make a deal of my own should I ever reach that rarefied air.

But, as a challenger...as a climber...I hate it. I hate it in all its vainglory. The ego and narcissism of those above fearing the challenge of someone beneath them. The last hurdle before the final hurdle of breaking through.

In order to get to Robert Main I must now get through Chris Page.

And not just Chris Page...but Chris Page plus one, Robert Main.

Make no mistake about it, Robert Main will be around. He’ll probably be at ringside. The insurance he’s offered to Page will be in full force. Insurance not only meant to protect Page from defeat but to also weaken me before our clash at Super Relentless.

This is, simply put, an unwinnable scenario for me.

I’d love to wax poetic about Rudy or those plucky upstarts from Boston rebelling against the King or even that US Hockey team from 1980...tell you that I will overcome the massive odds, pull off the impossible, and defeat not just Chris Page, not just Robert Main but CATACLYSM at Savage. I’d LOVE to tell you that. And I totally would – if I believed it.

But I deal in facts. I don’t bullshit. Cut through all the tomfoolery and hyperbole and you’re left with truth. A person can work with truth. A person can improve with truth. And the truth here is I don’t stand a fucking chance at Savage.

Not. A. Chance.

So, what’s a Wizard to do?

Do I complain to the higher ups?

Do I take to twitter and get hyper passive aggressive with the promotion?

Do I suddenly get ‘injured’?

Do I make a pact of my own?

These are all excellent questions. Some options are strong, others not so much.

Complaining does no good. Plus, not to unveil too much brown on my magical nose, but I kinda like the people who run this place so complaining would do more harm than good.

Bitching on twitter? Using social media as a device to get myself over? Nah, that’s more along the lines of our ridiculously fragile and weak Universal champion.

Feign an injury? Wouldn’t take much faking to use my head as a legit excuse for a night off. I’m still experiencing intermittent, razor sharp pains here and there (thanks, Robert Main aka dickhead). I could definitely work a note from some local doctor effectively pulling me from the match. But that’s never been my style. History isn’t made, success isn’t patched together by pussying out. So that’s a no. I’ll take my pills and gut through whatever head pains may arise.

Make a pact? There’s a thought. There are a few names out there I have more in common with than people may realize. Thaddeus Duke being one...he seems to dislike you, Page, as much as I dislike Main. There’s also Andrew Logan. The man could have ended me a week ago but chose the high road. An act I respect. I could do my best to win over their allegiance for one night...wouldn’t be too tough. Riding alongside me, they’d share in the limelight and adulation that comes with a victory over Cataclysm.

BUT

I’m not going to do that, either. May sound stupid but, in my mind, that equates to sinking down to your level, Page. Or, at least, emulating your style.

You don’t beat someone by copying them. You’re copying THEIR game. Nobody knows how to combat someone’s game better than the originators. I’d be stepping into your pit. Nah, not gonna do that...the odds are bad enough as it is.

So, again...WHAT’S A WIZARD TO DO?

Show up.

Simple as that.

I may be walking into a funeral, of sorts. I may wind up losing my shot at Main due to injury, but I’m not going to use smoke and mirrors or hired support to fight you guys. Those things aren’t going to help me at Relentless. Hell, they won’t help me beyond Relentless.

I need to learn how to fight these tasks alone. I need to continue to find out who I am. A journey that remains far from over. The best way to continue the unmasking of your core is through extreme conditions. Conditions won’t get anymore extreme than facing down the most dominant team in XWF.

So, smile Page. Laugh. GUFFAW. Revel in the fact that I’m walking straight into your trap. I’m aware. I’m woke. There are no delusions of grandeur here. I understand that by choosing this road I am going to get my ass kicked.

But maybe...just maybe.

MAYBE.

While getting my magical ass kicked.

MAYBE.

I take something from you. I take something from Main.

MAYBE.

I instill a bit of anxiety. A bit of nervousness. A sense of instability. Self doubt.

MAYBE.

I plant the seeds for future success. A preview for fans all over the world of what’s to come.

MAYBE.

I set the tone for winning the war. Battles are often lost in an effort to win the war. This could be that.

I’m sure the idea of being bullied is downright laughable to the two of you. No doubt, based on the way you two handle things, you did the bullying. Props to you both. It’s a nice position to be in – even if it does create a form of weakness.

Me? I got bullied.

Don’t awww or feel bad for me. I don’t. I’m glad I was bullied. It toughened me up. Forced me to construct character.

One thing you figure out about bullies, eventually, is that if you stand up to them they lose their aura. The intimidation disappears.

The funny thing is they, too, realize this.

You stand up to them, get your licks in, and they develop a sense of fear when you’re around. They want nothing to do with you. You resemble DOUBT. Even as they are pounding you into mush during that fateful, final encounter, they are forever changed. The dynamic has experienced a paradigm shift.

And from that point forward they fear you more than you fear them.

I’m going to punch you in the face, Page. I’m going to kick you in the gut. I’m going to drop you on your head.

And, Main, when you enter the ring...I’m going to do the very same. I’m going to hit, kick, and drop you onto the mat as much as I’m able.

Eventually, the two of you will overtake me and the result will be final. I’ll be finished and you two bullies will stand over me, another coordinated win under your fattened belts.

But, when the match is over. When you’re in the back showering up, taking the time to think things over...you’re going to feel something. You’re going to experience a foreign emotion.

There won’t be any smiles. No high fives. Only silence. Silence birthed by the quiet, growing notion that The Wizard is someone you’d rather not catch any time soon, if ever.

Which might be possible for you, Page.

But not for you, Main.

While Page will easily thrust me into the back of his mind on the way home from the event...you will fail in his success. My presence will grow. It will consume you.

Images of my valor, my spirit, my inability to acquiesce, to submit. My fighting spirit will grow by the second. I will be in your head.

Doubt will emerge. “If that guy wouldn’t quit against the two of us there’s no way he’s going to be frightened by little ole me…”

“Shit, he fought like hell against me when I had a fellow legend at my side. What am I in for at Relentless when it’s just the two of us?”

For the first time during this entire charade, feud, war...I’ll begin to acquire something resembling an advantage.

You’ll create a mythos about me. This strange, indefatigable being whom you’ve tortured, destroyed, and decimated. Who, despite having everything thrown at him has not only refused to quit, but grown stronger.

Nerves will develop. Anxiety. Then, come that fateful night at Relentless, Robert Main, you’ll succumb to a metaphorical hand around your throat. You’ll choke. You’ll shy away. You’ll open yourself up for defeat.

And, like the angry, wounded, nothing-to-lose challenger that I am, I’ll leap at your opening and tear at your exposure, watching your insides spill all over the ring before putting you down for good.

You’ve created a scenario that guarantees victory in battle.

Congratulations, Main.

But, in doing so, you may have cost yourself the war.

I’ll see you at Savage, Page.