Post by George Duke on Apr 21, 2007 3:24:18 GMT -6
Any loss is damaging to George Duke. This one is no different. He lost to a new comer in a big title match - but he hasn't gotten too down because of it. He fought a valiant match and gave the champ a run for his money. Besides... there's always next time. He is still the Valor Champion. Besides, George's eyes lit up when he saw the perfect chance to vent his frustrations - a chance to prove he's still the man. He is booked against Brian Lee in a Hardcore Match.
George slams down the phone with a din. He had been on the phone with a reporter. As usual, he was asked a lot of stupid questions - but they dug in about the match with Shawn Stevens, asking him how it felt to lose to a rookie. Not that George is ever in a pleasant mood, but this made it a bit more sour. Sitting at his kitchen table, George sips on his morning coffee. The apartment is in full-swing now. The kitchen has been adorned with a a coffee machine and the fridge has been stocked. The bedroom has a bed and a dresser, and the living room has a couch and TV laying about mounds of exercise equipment. Duke sits at a shaky card-table, drinking from his chipped white mug. A folded newspaper sits next to his cup, George is in no mood to read about other peoples problems right now. He's concerned with his match. George puts down his mug and boasts to the camera.
"Having the background and reputation that I do, it is no wonder that I will excel in a Hardcore match-up. Everyone knows that a real fight is my time to shine. Free of restrictions and rules - two men giving a good fight. An old fashioned street fight - aside from a cage match, it's my signature match. I grew up fighting in the streets, and used the same technique in the ring for years. Before Brian Lee gets too comfortable, there's a few things he should know..."
Duke points a finger to the camera and squints.
"While I was touring the world with a company, I was booked primarily in these type of No DQ matches. They knew I would cut loose and everyone would get a good show. However, it was the same reason I never got my big break. I was too violent - too d**ned good - for them to put against their top stars. They didn't want me hurting them - they'd be out of some money, then. My style and intensity kept me away from their stars - but it kept me out of the main events, too. Without a big name opponent, I wouldn't have a main event, anyway. But I was usually booked 2nd or 3rd on a 7 match card. They didn't want the action and excitement of my matches to overshadow the main event. If that happened, people wouldn't pay any attention to the big matches - and they'd have to book me against the top stars - and we already know they didn't want that. Looks like the same underhanded crap is going on this week, too. Trust me, Tito - booking me 2nd isn't going to keep me from owning this night. Anyway, I grew a helluva reputation because of how I good I was in these matches, and I was the king. Hell, I'm still the king. When you cut me loose in a match like this - there's no way the other guy stands a chance. There's a guarantee of blood and mayhem. There's a high likelihood of property damage and fines. One thing's for sure, though - George Duke stands as the winner. Look what happened with that Russian moron that was hanging around at the start of this company. He thought he was a real 'wildman', a real hotshot - just like Lee. I destroyed him, cut him apart - and it wasn't even a no holds barred match! I beat the hell outta him, and sent him packing. I ran him out of the company - as far as I know, I ran him outta the sport. Brian Lee - what makes you think you're any different?"
Duke slaps his hand on the table, causing the mug to shift and a spoon to fall to the floor.
"I've done some reading up on you. You think you're real 'extreme', do you? As extreme as a kid from North Carolina can be, I guess. Backyard Wrestling? Backyard Wrestling?! Lee, you don't know a d**ned thing about Hardcore! Wrestling with furniture and barbed wire doesn't make a man Hardcore. In fact, if he thinks it does - it makes him a d**ned fool! Hardcore is measured by intensity - by spirit. ECW was forged in Philadelphia for a reason. Those fans connected with these guys, because they wrestled in a Bingo Hall in the middle of the night. They starved and killed each other, because they were intense - they loved the sport. They didn't care about fame or fortune... my how things have changed... but back then, they did it for the sport. They liked to fight, just as any good Philadelphian worth his weight in dog-shit does. I'm Philadelphia's most Hardcore son in this respect. I've used chairs and barbed wire. I've used chains and pencils and bricks. I did it for the fight - for the intensity of two men beating the hell out of each other. The term Hardcore wasn't even a dream when I did that stuff. Working in a traveling carnival - taking on ALL comers is Hardcore. Just because you threw your buddies off a roof in Winston-Salem doesn't make you shit. Brian Lee - you're going to get a lesson in Hardcore, my friend. You're going to get your ass handed to you and you're going to spill a lot of blood. This, I promise you."
Duke laughs as he gets up. He puts on his coat and hat and hits the streets. Another long day of training, and another long night of thinking lay ahead.
George slams down the phone with a din. He had been on the phone with a reporter. As usual, he was asked a lot of stupid questions - but they dug in about the match with Shawn Stevens, asking him how it felt to lose to a rookie. Not that George is ever in a pleasant mood, but this made it a bit more sour. Sitting at his kitchen table, George sips on his morning coffee. The apartment is in full-swing now. The kitchen has been adorned with a a coffee machine and the fridge has been stocked. The bedroom has a bed and a dresser, and the living room has a couch and TV laying about mounds of exercise equipment. Duke sits at a shaky card-table, drinking from his chipped white mug. A folded newspaper sits next to his cup, George is in no mood to read about other peoples problems right now. He's concerned with his match. George puts down his mug and boasts to the camera.
"Having the background and reputation that I do, it is no wonder that I will excel in a Hardcore match-up. Everyone knows that a real fight is my time to shine. Free of restrictions and rules - two men giving a good fight. An old fashioned street fight - aside from a cage match, it's my signature match. I grew up fighting in the streets, and used the same technique in the ring for years. Before Brian Lee gets too comfortable, there's a few things he should know..."
Duke points a finger to the camera and squints.
"While I was touring the world with a company, I was booked primarily in these type of No DQ matches. They knew I would cut loose and everyone would get a good show. However, it was the same reason I never got my big break. I was too violent - too d**ned good - for them to put against their top stars. They didn't want me hurting them - they'd be out of some money, then. My style and intensity kept me away from their stars - but it kept me out of the main events, too. Without a big name opponent, I wouldn't have a main event, anyway. But I was usually booked 2nd or 3rd on a 7 match card. They didn't want the action and excitement of my matches to overshadow the main event. If that happened, people wouldn't pay any attention to the big matches - and they'd have to book me against the top stars - and we already know they didn't want that. Looks like the same underhanded crap is going on this week, too. Trust me, Tito - booking me 2nd isn't going to keep me from owning this night. Anyway, I grew a helluva reputation because of how I good I was in these matches, and I was the king. Hell, I'm still the king. When you cut me loose in a match like this - there's no way the other guy stands a chance. There's a guarantee of blood and mayhem. There's a high likelihood of property damage and fines. One thing's for sure, though - George Duke stands as the winner. Look what happened with that Russian moron that was hanging around at the start of this company. He thought he was a real 'wildman', a real hotshot - just like Lee. I destroyed him, cut him apart - and it wasn't even a no holds barred match! I beat the hell outta him, and sent him packing. I ran him out of the company - as far as I know, I ran him outta the sport. Brian Lee - what makes you think you're any different?"
Duke slaps his hand on the table, causing the mug to shift and a spoon to fall to the floor.
"I've done some reading up on you. You think you're real 'extreme', do you? As extreme as a kid from North Carolina can be, I guess. Backyard Wrestling? Backyard Wrestling?! Lee, you don't know a d**ned thing about Hardcore! Wrestling with furniture and barbed wire doesn't make a man Hardcore. In fact, if he thinks it does - it makes him a d**ned fool! Hardcore is measured by intensity - by spirit. ECW was forged in Philadelphia for a reason. Those fans connected with these guys, because they wrestled in a Bingo Hall in the middle of the night. They starved and killed each other, because they were intense - they loved the sport. They didn't care about fame or fortune... my how things have changed... but back then, they did it for the sport. They liked to fight, just as any good Philadelphian worth his weight in dog-shit does. I'm Philadelphia's most Hardcore son in this respect. I've used chairs and barbed wire. I've used chains and pencils and bricks. I did it for the fight - for the intensity of two men beating the hell out of each other. The term Hardcore wasn't even a dream when I did that stuff. Working in a traveling carnival - taking on ALL comers is Hardcore. Just because you threw your buddies off a roof in Winston-Salem doesn't make you shit. Brian Lee - you're going to get a lesson in Hardcore, my friend. You're going to get your ass handed to you and you're going to spill a lot of blood. This, I promise you."
Duke laughs as he gets up. He puts on his coat and hat and hits the streets. Another long day of training, and another long night of thinking lay ahead.
