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Thomas Nixon · (05-04-2017)

A loud, fast paced Japanese voice booms from the television coinciding with a burst of cheers and applause from the audience. The match came to a thrilling conclusion, Volk Han applied an Achilles lock that forced Kiyoshi Tamura to tap out. The technical battle had the crowd losing their minds at times, both men battling for position and submissions for about twelve minutes.

As Volk Han celebrates his big win, the screen goes black and the audio goes silent. Thomas Nixon sets down his television remote, as the camera turns to the XWF Superstar wearing a tan tee shirt and light blue jeans. Resting on his lap is his newly won Heavymetalweight Championship. Although the belt isn’t known for its prestige, Nixon is still proud to have pinned Super Mario to become the new champion.

Nixon looks at the camera, with a calm, somewhat nostalgic look in his eye.

“There was a time where wrestling was a lot different…I want to walk you through this with a thought experiment of sorts. I want you to close your eyes, so I can paint a mental image for you.

There are two men standing across the ring from each other, one in trunks and knee pads, and the other in long blue tights. These guys don’t look like a typical XWF superstar; they look like genuine athletes. These guys look like fighters. One is small but toned, and the other is tall and imposing. These men aren’t larger than life characters with funny gimmicks. They walk into the ring and put a hundred percent of their energy into winning the match.

So you can imagine that they don’t waste their time sitting back and talking shit about each other. They don’t kick back in front of a camera and flaunt a superiority complex. They simply come up with a gameplan, train their techniques, and perform in front of massive crowds with the goal of walking out as the winner.

Could you imagine that? They don’t stoop to childish antics, and they don’t have fragile egos. They don’t lash out at every person that questions their ability. They know that when they get down to business in the wrestling ring, they are the best competitors. Why? Because they live and breathe this sport.”

Nixon pauses, and he loses the gleam in his piercing blue eyes. He continues, almost looking dejected.

“Go ahead, open your eyes. You’ve imagined something far from what you get in the XWF; now we can talk about the type of people that wrestle in this company.

Jack Cain had a story to tell me after he heard my thoughts. He talked about a brutal experience where he killed some people, watched others died, and got really pissed off. The kind of story you would expect from a scary motherfucker that has fought in the Middle East. I won’t go into any details, partially because they aren’t important.

I drew a simple conclusion from Cain’s lecture, and I think I made a logical, rational assessment of him. I comprehend that Cain is a scary dude that may very well kick my ass if I don’t bring my A game. So I’m going to prepare accordingly.

I have my views about Jack Cain. I think that wrestlers need true motivation and a driving force to succeed, and I don’t think his cold heart will lend him a lot of help during a main event title match. I don’t think he is emotionally invested in the outcome of the match, and I see that as a weakness.

But I still can acknowledge that if I don’t duck his right hand, I may have my skull partially caved in. That’s what happens when a big man swings for the fences, and if you think otherwise, you must be borderline

. Frankly, Cain’s story didn’t address any of my critique. I had already accepted that he has no limitations to his brutality and that’s all his story emphasized. I know that he’ll end someone’s life if they rub him the wrong way.

That doesn’t change a damn thing. Because you don’t need to convince me that you’re dangerous. I know that. So I’ll do what any smart man would do. Find a solution. I’ll find a way to weasel myself out of your reach. And if I can’t outmaneuver you, I’ll lose. But didn’t we all know that? I mean, it’s pretty clear by just looking at us.

Now, I may be looking at this a little too logically. Apparently, reason is a bit frowned upon hear, at least I’m assuming so because my other opponent, Danny Imperial, had a very different way of looking at the situation.

From what I knew going into this match, I was interested in hearing Danny Imperial give his comments. He’s on the rise. He toppled Scully in his first match here! People think he has potential! But then he dropped this bomb on me; he revealed that he’s nothing unique in the personality department. It seems to me that Mr. Imperial is another rambling shit talker that doesn’t understand when to take people seriously.

His thoughts on Cain weren’t very thought provoking. He opted to take the low road; he cracked a few PTSD jokes, dismissed army experience with an offhand remark, and made a reference to Cain’s wife leaving him. In Danny’s defense, he mentioned that Cain might just be competent in the ring. Maybe, just maybe, but then Danny quickly insisted that his friends call him the best.”

Nixon shrugs, shaking his head.

“This is the kind of shit that makes me cringe. This is the kind of stuff that makes people think I’m the bad guy. Because when I see ignorance and stupidity, I call that shit out and then people think I have a superiority complex. I don’t want to call my opponents out on their stupid fucking comments…”

Nixon sighs bringing a hand to his temple. After a moment, he snaps back at the camera.

“But I have to! Everyone else let’s this kind of garbage slip by, completely unnoticed. That, to me, is a problem. This lack of depth is perpetuated at every turn here!

Danny, why are you so afraid to admit that Jack Cain is a scary motherfucker? I’m not saying that because I like him, I don’t know the guy! But he is a giant that has no goddamn soul. You see, once you accept that Cain is a threat in the ring, you can figure out what to do about it, but if you sit in your field of flowers and lie to yourself, you won’t be holding onto that beloved title belt much longer.

I’m a confident guy, but I’m not a fan of bullshit. I know I’m talented, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to strut down the ramp and get a free win handed to me. I don’t want to shatter your misconceptions, but that isn’t the way life works.

I get that you want to be perceived in a certain way, but the more you lie to yourself, the harder reality is going to hit you in the fucking head. That’s why I’m not studying the art of talking out of my ass. I was watching real grapplers fight for a win. I’m watching an underdog take a giant off his feet! I’m finding techniques to overcome a threat because whether you want to admit it or not, Jack Cain is a threat to your title reign!

And I’m ignoring the other half of your fatal mistake. You wrote me off.”

Nixon lets out a hearty laugh. After a moment, the accompanying smile starts to dissipate leaving a smirk in its place.

“Hey, man, I’m not personally offended. This isn’t my first rodeo in the XWF. I’ve been told that I caused dinosaurs because I fucked them all to death. I’ve been called a gay man that created a species of humanoid lizards. I’ve been called crazy, and I’ve been called insane. You can come up with whatever ridiculous label you want, but none of your outrageous accusations mean shit.

Not only are they untrue, but what fucking difference would it make once we’re in the ring together Saturday night?

Because when I knee you in the fucking face, it doesn’t matter if I have a forked tongue. But if you want to ramble through some talking points for a couple laughs, be my guest. The sad truth is, the ‘W’ in ‘XWF’ stands for ‘wrestling’. And if you dismiss me the same way you’re dismissing Jack Cain, you’re going to get thrown on your head a time or two.

Your words are hollow until you prove it in the ring. You may have snuck a win out against Tidbits and you may have pulled one over Scully, but you aren’t going to walk out of this three way match as champion if you underestimate your challengers. That’s a recipe for failure.

If you don’t believe me, look at my title reign. I had several successful defenses, while the failing challengers joked about my past. Each one of those men failed to take away my Television Championship. Eventually, Jim Caedus came along and I made a mistake. I didn’t give him my undivided attention because I was heading into a main event against Gabe Reno and Chris Chaos.

If you’ve been paying attention recently, Caedus isn’t someone you should overlook. And I paid for that critical mistake. Believe me or not, but you can look around the XWF and see something similar happen every week. Someone runs their mouth and then they get their ass handed to them.

The fact of the matter is, I could be making jokes about your romantic relationship with the Television Championship and writing you off as another stupid lunatic that somehow found themselves with gold in XWF. But that’s how you underprepare, and that is how you end up on the losing week after week.

Even though I think you’re making a rookie mistake, I’ll still be watching your footage because you had to do something right to get this far. If you don’t do the same thing, you may be walking into the arena with some unrealistic expectations of how the match will play out.

I’m not going to say I’m the best wrestler in history, but I’m pretty damn good. Write me off and I’ll find you crying to Steve Sayers about the result later this week.”

Thomas Nixon reaches for the remote to turn on some good old fashioned wrestling, as the scene fades to black.

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