Post by Tyrone "Crazy Boy" Smith on Aug 28, 2017 9:01:01 GMT -5
Return to Glory VIII has hit the books, and it was a Pay Per View to remember. Every match delivered in a big way, but perhaps one of the biggest surprise matches of the night was the Hall of Famer, Tyrone "Crazy Boy" Smith, taking on the monster known as Dominator. The match was hard hitting and Crazy Boy, for a while, had Dominator on the ropes with a spirited performance.
For most of the match, Crazy Boy had the match won, but couldn't keep Dominator down for a three count. For all the close calls and the nearfalls that the veteran had on the monster, All it was was a spirited performance. It doesn't matter how well of a performance you actually do if you don't win the match, and in the end, once again, as it has been for the last year of his career, the Crazy One came up a bit short on the end of the stick, so even one of his best performances that he has had all year still wasn't good enough.
An aura of disappointment surrounds the superstar as the promo opens. He's not in his usual spots as he normally is, the sound of the Gulf surrounding the area, the waves crashing on the wood that is below what looks like a pier overlooking the gulf and the barrier islands way out in the distance. The wind is swirling around, the gulf causing the wind to blow harder.
Standing on the end of the pier is the Hall of Famer himself, Tyrone "Crazy Boy" Smith. He has his eyes closed, his mouth furrowed to a frown as he is letting the wind hit his face, his long, blonde hair wrapping around his face like a mane of a wild animal. The wind gusts up for a moment and sways the frame of the superstar back and forth, but his demeanor doesn't change.
The wrinkles around the corners of his eyes become prominent and a thoughtful look appears on his tired face. His eyes slowly open up and he examines his surroundings, watching a couple out in the distance on a nearby pier, talking to one another. He smiles softly as he starts to reach into his back pocket of his baggy blue jeans and pulls out a shiny pair of silver scissors.
He stares at the scissors for a moment before vehemently reaching behind him and sliding his hand up his long mane of hair, fixing it around his face and stopping right above his neck. He closes his eyes one more time as he takes the silver scissors and starts cutting his long mane of hair to the base of the neck. The long mane that was once connected to his head is now sitting in his hand as he looks down and walks to the edge of the pier. He stares at his hair one last time before dropping it in the Gulf, the waves carrying it away to parts unknown.
"It's time for a change." is the first thing that is heard from the superstars mouth as he watches the last bit of blonde get absorbed by the waters of the Gulf of Mexico. "It's time for a new me, a new direction and a new way to approach my career."
He puts the scissors back in his pocket and smiles, his new short hair waving around in the wind. The veteran superstar walks and sits down on the bench that is toward the end of the pier and stares out in the distance, watching a couple of boats in the distance float along the water.
"My match against Dominator at Return to Glory made me realize that I DO still have some life left in these older bones. I gave it my absolute all in that match, but it still wasn't good enough to put the big man down. I realize that it's the little things that I'm doing wrong that is costing me matches, and I have to fix that. I make one little mistake and these younger generation eat me alive. I have to bring back my inner, younger self."
Crazy Boy pulls out a cigarette out of his front pants pocket and lights it up. He takes a few drags off of it, a serene look on his face. Tyrone starts to speak again, a little more fire appearing in his voice.
"All I have to do is tap into what I'm known for. Speed, agility, stamina, wearing people down. That is my forte, and I need to work even harder to get back to my glory days. Screw almost being 37 years old; I'm not using it as an excuse anymore. Dominator proved that I can still hang with the best this company has to offer. All I have to do is tweak the way I fight and regain my self and everything will fall into place."
A couple of drags off the cigarette and he flicks the butt into the ashtray that is on top of the trash can next to the wooden bench. Crazy Boy stands up from the bench and starts to walk around like a rabid dog, waiting to be unchained.
"Now you may be wondering what is my approach to Trauma 217, when I am in a fatal four way match for the Underground Championship against High Tide, Dominator and the champion, Gabriel. And I know what you are thinking: that this is the time I start talking about how I am the King of Hardcore and Hardcore matches are my speciality and I will do whatever it takes to win, but that is not the case.
Every time I lay that claim in an Underground Championship match, it always comes and bites me in the ass, and I can never back up my words. I can't say I'm the best in Hardcore anymore when I haven't won a hardcore match in a couple of years. I am going to approach this match in a new angle and do the divide and conquer method."
The Crazy One gestures expansively, his pacing continuing at a steady pace.
"I'm not going to try to take all three of them out at once, being reckless and charging in head first and trying to be the hero and getting pummled in the process. No more. I'm going to be smarter about this and approach this more methodically and intricately. Divide and conquer the competition and let it run its course. Take out the biggest threat in Dominator first, then focus on the others."
Tyrone stops dead in his tracks, his new short hair a matted mess, as he continues to speak.
"The other two? Someone I have face so many times that I can wrestle him in my sleep and an individual that doesn't even WANT the Underground Championship, but only has it because he's a damn sheep. Seromine has Gabriel wrapped around his little finger, and all he does is follow his every command. It's pretty sickening if you ask me. Well, Gabriel, if you don't want the Underground Championship so bad, allow me the honor to take it and give it to someone that DOES... like myself."
Crazy Boy chuckles softly to himself, the gulf winds almost knocking him over as he regains his balance. He starts to walk down the pier, talking, but the wind almost carrying his words away to an almost whisper.
"And High Tide? I have nothing more to say to you. I can't say anything else that hasn't already been said. It's like beating a dead horse at this point. We know each other in the ring so well at this point in time that we could probably take each others movesets and still have a competent match. I don't know how many more times we have to face each other in the ring, but we both know that every time we do, we tear the house down, so let's do it one more time."
The Crazy One reaches the end of the pier, his car separated by a white beach. He sets foot on the hot sand and starts to walk across, footprints made by his boots leaving their marks.
"As long as I play this new hand right and do this new approach, there should be no reason why I can't become the new Underground Champion at Trauma 217. I just need to go out there, remember my former self, and get the job done. There is no excuses anymore. Go out there and win...
And maybe crack a few skulls while I'm at it."
Crazy Boy laughs loudly as he steps off the beach to a small parking lot on the side of the highway. He unlocks his car and climbs in, cranking it up and revving the engine a couple of times. He backs up from his small parking spot and drives off, blending into the highway and the flow of traffic.
Static and fade.
End.
For most of the match, Crazy Boy had the match won, but couldn't keep Dominator down for a three count. For all the close calls and the nearfalls that the veteran had on the monster, All it was was a spirited performance. It doesn't matter how well of a performance you actually do if you don't win the match, and in the end, once again, as it has been for the last year of his career, the Crazy One came up a bit short on the end of the stick, so even one of his best performances that he has had all year still wasn't good enough.
An aura of disappointment surrounds the superstar as the promo opens. He's not in his usual spots as he normally is, the sound of the Gulf surrounding the area, the waves crashing on the wood that is below what looks like a pier overlooking the gulf and the barrier islands way out in the distance. The wind is swirling around, the gulf causing the wind to blow harder.
Standing on the end of the pier is the Hall of Famer himself, Tyrone "Crazy Boy" Smith. He has his eyes closed, his mouth furrowed to a frown as he is letting the wind hit his face, his long, blonde hair wrapping around his face like a mane of a wild animal. The wind gusts up for a moment and sways the frame of the superstar back and forth, but his demeanor doesn't change.
The wrinkles around the corners of his eyes become prominent and a thoughtful look appears on his tired face. His eyes slowly open up and he examines his surroundings, watching a couple out in the distance on a nearby pier, talking to one another. He smiles softly as he starts to reach into his back pocket of his baggy blue jeans and pulls out a shiny pair of silver scissors.
He stares at the scissors for a moment before vehemently reaching behind him and sliding his hand up his long mane of hair, fixing it around his face and stopping right above his neck. He closes his eyes one more time as he takes the silver scissors and starts cutting his long mane of hair to the base of the neck. The long mane that was once connected to his head is now sitting in his hand as he looks down and walks to the edge of the pier. He stares at his hair one last time before dropping it in the Gulf, the waves carrying it away to parts unknown.
"It's time for a change." is the first thing that is heard from the superstars mouth as he watches the last bit of blonde get absorbed by the waters of the Gulf of Mexico. "It's time for a new me, a new direction and a new way to approach my career."
He puts the scissors back in his pocket and smiles, his new short hair waving around in the wind. The veteran superstar walks and sits down on the bench that is toward the end of the pier and stares out in the distance, watching a couple of boats in the distance float along the water.
"My match against Dominator at Return to Glory made me realize that I DO still have some life left in these older bones. I gave it my absolute all in that match, but it still wasn't good enough to put the big man down. I realize that it's the little things that I'm doing wrong that is costing me matches, and I have to fix that. I make one little mistake and these younger generation eat me alive. I have to bring back my inner, younger self."
Crazy Boy pulls out a cigarette out of his front pants pocket and lights it up. He takes a few drags off of it, a serene look on his face. Tyrone starts to speak again, a little more fire appearing in his voice.
"All I have to do is tap into what I'm known for. Speed, agility, stamina, wearing people down. That is my forte, and I need to work even harder to get back to my glory days. Screw almost being 37 years old; I'm not using it as an excuse anymore. Dominator proved that I can still hang with the best this company has to offer. All I have to do is tweak the way I fight and regain my self and everything will fall into place."
A couple of drags off the cigarette and he flicks the butt into the ashtray that is on top of the trash can next to the wooden bench. Crazy Boy stands up from the bench and starts to walk around like a rabid dog, waiting to be unchained.
"Now you may be wondering what is my approach to Trauma 217, when I am in a fatal four way match for the Underground Championship against High Tide, Dominator and the champion, Gabriel. And I know what you are thinking: that this is the time I start talking about how I am the King of Hardcore and Hardcore matches are my speciality and I will do whatever it takes to win, but that is not the case.
Every time I lay that claim in an Underground Championship match, it always comes and bites me in the ass, and I can never back up my words. I can't say I'm the best in Hardcore anymore when I haven't won a hardcore match in a couple of years. I am going to approach this match in a new angle and do the divide and conquer method."
The Crazy One gestures expansively, his pacing continuing at a steady pace.
"I'm not going to try to take all three of them out at once, being reckless and charging in head first and trying to be the hero and getting pummled in the process. No more. I'm going to be smarter about this and approach this more methodically and intricately. Divide and conquer the competition and let it run its course. Take out the biggest threat in Dominator first, then focus on the others."
Tyrone stops dead in his tracks, his new short hair a matted mess, as he continues to speak.
"The other two? Someone I have face so many times that I can wrestle him in my sleep and an individual that doesn't even WANT the Underground Championship, but only has it because he's a damn sheep. Seromine has Gabriel wrapped around his little finger, and all he does is follow his every command. It's pretty sickening if you ask me. Well, Gabriel, if you don't want the Underground Championship so bad, allow me the honor to take it and give it to someone that DOES... like myself."
Crazy Boy chuckles softly to himself, the gulf winds almost knocking him over as he regains his balance. He starts to walk down the pier, talking, but the wind almost carrying his words away to an almost whisper.
"And High Tide? I have nothing more to say to you. I can't say anything else that hasn't already been said. It's like beating a dead horse at this point. We know each other in the ring so well at this point in time that we could probably take each others movesets and still have a competent match. I don't know how many more times we have to face each other in the ring, but we both know that every time we do, we tear the house down, so let's do it one more time."
The Crazy One reaches the end of the pier, his car separated by a white beach. He sets foot on the hot sand and starts to walk across, footprints made by his boots leaving their marks.
"As long as I play this new hand right and do this new approach, there should be no reason why I can't become the new Underground Champion at Trauma 217. I just need to go out there, remember my former self, and get the job done. There is no excuses anymore. Go out there and win...
And maybe crack a few skulls while I'm at it."
Crazy Boy laughs loudly as he steps off the beach to a small parking lot on the side of the highway. He unlocks his car and climbs in, cranking it up and revving the engine a couple of times. He backs up from his small parking spot and drives off, blending into the highway and the flow of traffic.
Static and fade.
End.