Post by Seth Iser on Nov 17, 2023 4:44:05 GMT -6
Where have you been?
It’s a simple question that’s been stewing in the gray matter of numerous fans who have only ever known me for the escapades involving the letters TEW and NEW. And I’ll confess it’s a natural one to ask if you do not decide to view other outlets of our industry but the truth of the matter is the answer isn't some simple statement that can be written out by a PR team because it ignores the nuisances of the true answer. An answer that has far more layers the more you start to peel back this old onion. One that hell…even took me some time to come to terms with; it’s always a sobering reality when you’ve been confronted with different aspects of your mortality in our line of work.
So where have you been…you will continue to ask. Have I been biding my time to reveal some sort of devious plot that could poison the well before everything ever started? Quite the conspiratorial thought but when your track record has corrupted Matthew Slater to a point of no return on more than one occasion and pouring alcohol down the throat of a man who shares the alcoholic demon that I do it goes from conspiracy theory to a seemingly rational question. What kind of diabolical plan do I really have in mind? Are we all really in true danger?
The answer to that kind of plan is a much simpler one, no. I am not some damning influence like that because of what that kind of poison has done to me. When you stare at morality far more often than one cares to admit…and you reach the age that I have in our industry, you know that you have significantly more matches behind you than in front of you. The fountain of youth is a myth…you only ever have so many blows you can endure until the mortal body just can’t handle anymore. So pursuing those avenues of destructive nihilism for shits and giggles? No…that’s a poison I cannot afford for my mind or my soul yet alone my body anymore.
Revenge? Am I going after revenge for someone?
No. Revenge is the cotton candy of motivation. It seems so filling but there’s nothing to it in the end. All it really creates is a pit of broken people, memories, and an endless cycle of retaliation and the people who cheer every vindictive act of this are just as guilty as the person who perpetrated the senseless retaliation for vindictive and greedy reasons. Those types of wrestlers and those wrestling fans are true stains that need to be cleansed from the old era. Not the principles of how we combat in professional wrestling itself…the ones that a lot of these kids want to shun, but rather the revenge principle. It ruined and tainted too many of a career.
Hell, as much as I’ve accomplished you can argue I would’ve done far more if my brain wasn’t poisoned as often as it was by some form of revenge.
My purpose is a little different at this point in my life. It’s quite amazing what happens when your priorities change and it isn’t just you that you have to worry about in your circle. I was once a lone man…ashamed of myself in many ways but equally angry. As much as I donned a mask for the beginning half of my professional wrestling career for the convenience of still wrestling with a broken orbital bone; it brought many boons. It was intimidating for the ones who weren’t disciplined enough to see through the ruse; it also hid my face at the time from the atrocities I was committing through nothing but my anger. A poison that I was letting out in front of everyone…unleashing the Dread of the Apocalypse as they say.
But people change in time and time changes people a little. And my circle has both a daughter and a fiance to think about. I have also heard some rumblings from my daughter that she could follow in my line of work and that thought weighs on me. It’s another weight…wondering what burdens I’d put upon her due to some of my own actions and the fans pontificating their hatred of me and just transferring it onto her.
The sobering reality is I can’t protect my daughter from the ugliness of the world…and some of that is my own fault.
That’s one thing that’s never left me and something people from the past in New Edge will tell you now. I’ll speak the truth even if it’s something that wouldn’t benefit me. And that’s the cold hard truth of it all; I would’ve done more in the earlier part of my career had I found a way to purge myself of that poison years ago. The kind of poison that’s both self inflicted and then caused by others…
The kind where I lampooned Owen Gonsalves about his wrestling and it turned into such a violent dispute that I DDT’d his wrestling wife. His response? He broke into my house and created an incident that my daughter still has to go to therapy for because of how it ruined the safety of home. It created a poison…a cycle of revenge that neither of us were better for.
Or more infamously, there is a massive chunk of money Bobby Backdoor still owes me when I had a child to feed for example, that turned into a poison for me.
So the truth of the matter…is as complex as us humans truly are. Where have I been?
I have a wound…that needs to be mended. And at my stage of life, I think I’m finally able to properly deal with it. And deal with it in the way any professional wrestler should. It took several years to finally reach that point but here I am. And the wound has to be mended in this particular company once and for all.
It’s a simple question that’s been stewing in the gray matter of numerous fans who have only ever known me for the escapades involving the letters TEW and NEW. And I’ll confess it’s a natural one to ask if you do not decide to view other outlets of our industry but the truth of the matter is the answer isn't some simple statement that can be written out by a PR team because it ignores the nuisances of the true answer. An answer that has far more layers the more you start to peel back this old onion. One that hell…even took me some time to come to terms with; it’s always a sobering reality when you’ve been confronted with different aspects of your mortality in our line of work.
So where have you been…you will continue to ask. Have I been biding my time to reveal some sort of devious plot that could poison the well before everything ever started? Quite the conspiratorial thought but when your track record has corrupted Matthew Slater to a point of no return on more than one occasion and pouring alcohol down the throat of a man who shares the alcoholic demon that I do it goes from conspiracy theory to a seemingly rational question. What kind of diabolical plan do I really have in mind? Are we all really in true danger?
The answer to that kind of plan is a much simpler one, no. I am not some damning influence like that because of what that kind of poison has done to me. When you stare at morality far more often than one cares to admit…and you reach the age that I have in our industry, you know that you have significantly more matches behind you than in front of you. The fountain of youth is a myth…you only ever have so many blows you can endure until the mortal body just can’t handle anymore. So pursuing those avenues of destructive nihilism for shits and giggles? No…that’s a poison I cannot afford for my mind or my soul yet alone my body anymore.
Revenge? Am I going after revenge for someone?
No. Revenge is the cotton candy of motivation. It seems so filling but there’s nothing to it in the end. All it really creates is a pit of broken people, memories, and an endless cycle of retaliation and the people who cheer every vindictive act of this are just as guilty as the person who perpetrated the senseless retaliation for vindictive and greedy reasons. Those types of wrestlers and those wrestling fans are true stains that need to be cleansed from the old era. Not the principles of how we combat in professional wrestling itself…the ones that a lot of these kids want to shun, but rather the revenge principle. It ruined and tainted too many of a career.
Hell, as much as I’ve accomplished you can argue I would’ve done far more if my brain wasn’t poisoned as often as it was by some form of revenge.
My purpose is a little different at this point in my life. It’s quite amazing what happens when your priorities change and it isn’t just you that you have to worry about in your circle. I was once a lone man…ashamed of myself in many ways but equally angry. As much as I donned a mask for the beginning half of my professional wrestling career for the convenience of still wrestling with a broken orbital bone; it brought many boons. It was intimidating for the ones who weren’t disciplined enough to see through the ruse; it also hid my face at the time from the atrocities I was committing through nothing but my anger. A poison that I was letting out in front of everyone…unleashing the Dread of the Apocalypse as they say.
But people change in time and time changes people a little. And my circle has both a daughter and a fiance to think about. I have also heard some rumblings from my daughter that she could follow in my line of work and that thought weighs on me. It’s another weight…wondering what burdens I’d put upon her due to some of my own actions and the fans pontificating their hatred of me and just transferring it onto her.
The sobering reality is I can’t protect my daughter from the ugliness of the world…and some of that is my own fault.
That’s one thing that’s never left me and something people from the past in New Edge will tell you now. I’ll speak the truth even if it’s something that wouldn’t benefit me. And that’s the cold hard truth of it all; I would’ve done more in the earlier part of my career had I found a way to purge myself of that poison years ago. The kind of poison that’s both self inflicted and then caused by others…
The kind where I lampooned Owen Gonsalves about his wrestling and it turned into such a violent dispute that I DDT’d his wrestling wife. His response? He broke into my house and created an incident that my daughter still has to go to therapy for because of how it ruined the safety of home. It created a poison…a cycle of revenge that neither of us were better for.
Or more infamously, there is a massive chunk of money Bobby Backdoor still owes me when I had a child to feed for example, that turned into a poison for me.
So the truth of the matter…is as complex as us humans truly are. Where have I been?
I have a wound…that needs to be mended. And at my stage of life, I think I’m finally able to properly deal with it. And deal with it in the way any professional wrestler should. It took several years to finally reach that point but here I am. And the wound has to be mended in this particular company once and for all.
The confines of my office have evolved a little over the years. It used to be far more lavish in terms of garnishing it with personal trophies but rather then copies of old championships I used to hold everywhere, it resembles more of a study room and a library both rather than the representation of my fragile, poisoned ego. To my left is a television with a player for DVDs as well as various copies of said DVDs when I need to scout an opponent. I can merely turn my chair to watch while I write and make notes as I see fit. A number of emergency scouting reports in alphabetized order go on next to it and it lists names from the well known of Al Envy to the obscure rookies who have seldom had a few matches but may get called up once they graduate training school. To my right of the chair is another giant bookshelf but rather then it be of who I’m scouting…it’s of various books, also alphabetized neatly. The desk admittedly…is less organized then either of those shelves as I have a thesaurus on my desk and bundled up paper as I find myself closing in on retirement to begin both my autobiography as well as my memoirs of the history of professional wrestling. Though I glance at one of the crumpled up balls of a copy I made, I feel my face redden ever so slightly in frustration before grabbing it with my left hand and chucking it into the trash can nearby.
To my amusement, the damn thing bounces off the edge just as Vincent Moretti waltzes into my office without even knocking on my door.
“Well, shit…this place has changed.” he lowly remarks to himself before he eyeballs me with curiosity, “Though some things have stayed the same. Your lack of basketball skills past the high school level is one of them.”
“Your lack of manners is another…” I answer with a neutral expression on my face and a shrug of the shoulders.
Vincent reads it as sarcasm as a smirk creeps across his face. The man still has the tattoos all along his arms as a sign of his past life as well but he’s also cleaned up nicely over the years; no drugs is a good look for a lot of us wouldn’t you know it! He’s dressed in a far more casual manner as he’s got a pair of blue jeans with a chain around it with a Vegas Golden Knights hockey jersey and his graying, balding hair combed over as best he can to try to hide that fact.
In contrast I’m dressed how I often would be as I’m still working in this industry if I’m not actively in the ring at that moment: the nice three piece suit in a black and silver variation. Instinctively I straighten my tie despite my friend seeing me in…far worse than this on more than one occasion. As much as I was known for the grungy jeans attire, the moment I lost the mask I slowly started dressing in this manner more often than not; it’s almost a habit for me at this point. The hair however is also showing its age as rather than the long black wavy look it was when I was a decade younger it’s graying faster then even Vincent’s hair though I’ve dodged the bullet of it thinning.
What was it my old mentor Noish used to say on those car rides…count whatever limited genetic blessings you have? Yeah, I think that's what he meant...
“I didn’t barge into your office at home just to say hello, Seth. You’ve never been great at casual conversation to be honest…” he teases with the light grin etched on his face, “I just wanted to follow up on something that has been sent to my office. I wanted your input on it before I knew how to proceed.”
“Jesse Styles sent you the offer.” I cut in firmly, “I know that much. He somehow still had my number.”
Vincent’s face lights up with a little bit of surprise, “I’ll be damned, that hasn’t changed either then.”
“No, not really.” I calmly offer with a slight shake of the head, my tone a little amused, “There aren’t that many of us left that still remember what it’s like to only get by on handshakes, phone calls, our photo op, and perhaps even lying to the promoter about how much experience we actually had when we were young. The phone call was just the preferred method in those days.”
“What else was talked about between you two?” he inquires with a raised eyebrow while tilting his head to the left. The curiosity is getting the better of him here.
“That’s between us…” I reply cryptically though my face lightens slightly after that, “Maybe you’ll find out in the memoirs whenever I have the creative inspiration to finish them.”
I’ve always preferred to keep private conversations private. It’s an old habit but it’s also part of how I was brought up in our industry. You keep certain details to yourself until we’re both done. Vincent’s face narrows in disappointment however as I just lean back on my chair, feeling comfortable enough as is.
“Fine…be that way.” he sulks momentarily, “But let’s get to that offer. He does want you back in some capacity.”
I knew this a few days ago as I feel my face contort to a frown. There’s always been conflicting desires on what my body and mind can and can’t do. Vincent does finally take the seat in front of me as he was sick of just standing by the doorway. As he stews through my silence I can see him eye the office further, the repainting of the walls to white was also a recent affair as well as the simple silver curtain that covers the window and prevents the sun from shining through arbitrarily. He puts his hands together and leans over my desk.
“How about it Seth?” he asks point blank, “Is it the right offer for you?”
“Weighted question…” I merely offer, being non committal for a second.
“Money?” he pries further.
I dismiss that notion with a shake of the head, “That’s one area I’ve grown to be fortunate in considering the latter few years of my career. It isn’t about a grotesque amount of money. Just as long as I’m paid appropriate market value, it isn’t the same concern it used to be.”
“Then…is it duration?” he pitches like an agent trying to pull something from a temperamental star.
“An opportunity.” I answer him finally, “A different kind of opportunity for me to be honest.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere Seth…” Vincent chuckles lightly with a grin, “Always have to string me along though…”
“You’ve always been first to know my brother.” I offer with sincerity, “Hell, Allison and my fiance don’t even know yet.”
It’s the truth and this does ease Vincent’s mind further as he exhales out with relief. I finally stop leaning back on my comfortable office chair and make more direct and bold eye contact with my long time associate, seriousness in full effect. The truth is I only came to terms with what I wanted from this particular contract a day ago since a lot of the terms were left open to interpretation to what I may have wanted. It’s an acknowledgement of my status as a veteran both to this company’s long history and the sport itself.
“And your decision?” he questions, his patience running out by his tone getting a little higher pitched and squeaky.
“Just one match for now.” I confirm, “And I send out the challenge too. The only way a wrestler should...”
“Ah…I think I understand.” Vincent nods his head, whatever anxieties about getting an answer from me draining away from his face, “I take it you already thought out who you wanted and when…and also why.”
“Come on now Vincent…you should know the answer to that…” I retort with a sneer creeping across my face.
“Well?” he cocks an eyebrow at that, anticipation growing in his mind, “Tell me.”
“Bobby Backdoor.”
“WHAT!?” Vincent explodes out of his chair before exasperatedly putting both his hands on his desk; the facade of professionalism evaporating before my eyes with every passing second. “THAT fucking guy!? I didn’t want him back in my goddamn life! Creeps me the fuck out.”
“He’s a wound.” I simply retort calmly but I feel my face start to morph into a look that could kill someone, “One of the few to have ever wounded me.”
“I…can understand that but we don’t know what that crazy motherfucker’s been doing all these years now. God only knows…” he trails off before I cut in.
“He’ll find a way.” I answer, “If my name’s attached to it and enough money in front of it he’ll show.”
“...God fucking…” he mutters, defeated, “Shit…”
“Few more and you’ll recite Carlin’s seven dirty words…” I counter with a roll of the eyes.
“I think we need to INVENT a word for Bobby…” Vincent shrieks, throwing his hands up over his head before groaning in disgust. Honestly, I think he hated Bobby more then I ever did and that’s saying something.
“Like I said…he’s a wound.” I repeat in a lower tone, “Not only one of the few that's wounded me; he is the biggest remaining untended wound I have left. I don’t want revenge. That’s…children's games. It's all a different form of bullshit. I’ve wasted too much of my career chasing too many petty issues when I should’ve been winning more titles and perfecting my own craft. No…what I want is something a little more healing. I need to mend this wound once and for all so I know for a fact…I’ve grown and moved on in my life.”
I close my eyes, I still do remember the grief Backdoor going back on his agreement caused me. It set me back months and forced lean times for both my daughter and myself. I didn’t forgive him…just as much as I didn’t forgive myself for that career move. It was a sobering lesson on business that day. I feel my right hand twitch in that agitation I feel from that wound and ball it up to a fist though I’m able to purge this rush of fury with a deep breath.
“I’m older, Vincent. We both know this. Not the same person I used to be. I accept my bad deeds. I accept who I’ve been…hell who I am now.”
I pause as I rub my temple in agitation while letting out a sigh before I finish with one last statement.
“All I want…is to beat Bobby Backdoor in whatever terms the company comes up with for now and then we’ll see. Maybe in mending this wound the reaper comes for him…or hell, both of us. It could end up that way. I accept that as fact.”
“Can you still hurt him?” Vincent groans.
“It’ll be one of the longest nights of his life…” I sneer, “Mine as well. Now go get it done.”
“Yes sir,” he says, void of sarcasm.
Vincent stands up from his chair and starts to pull out his cellphone to dig through the contacts. I can hear the phone ringing as he exits out of the room and shuts the door to leave me alone with my thoughts. With that I slink into my chair knowing I’ve got a different kind of test coming up should Bobby accept. The temptation to give into that poison…that wound I have toward him. It’s what everybody would want.
But the only person who will get what they want in the end is me. I will prove to be cleansed of the poison that has held back my life for so long and mend one of the last egregious wounds yet undealt with in my entire life.
Where have I been you ask?
Learning the harshest lessons imaginable…paying the price for it…and now it’s just time to apply what I’ve learned in front of the fanbase that might hate me the most once and for all.
See you in hell Backdoor…neither of us will enjoy this experience but we both have to face the demons we've perpetrated in each other once and for all.