A Happy Medium

The Rangers...gah! The outfield is just so awul...I'll do one for the White Sox C Chris Stewart (??) 1B Frank Thomas 2B Ray Durham SS Scott Hairston 3B Joe Crede LF Placido Polanco played five games at LF in 2005 CF Aaron Rowand RF Ryan Sweeney SP Mark Buehrle SP Brandon McCarthy SP Jeff Weaver SP Kip Wells SP Nate Robertson RP Bob Wickman This team is very old right now.

I can't wait for J-Bay and E-Long to march onto the same field together!

I hope that everything goes crazy for both the Packers and Vikings during camp this year. This way, the distractions can lead to disappointing seasons for both franchises and give the Bears one of those magical 11-5 seasons that is forgotten in February.

The worst is playing online with other people that will never pass the ball...ever... There's also the guys who you face and they rub it in after they go up 3-0 after a few AI influenced goals.

Subway Melt on monterrey cheddar with lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, a lot of onions, jalapenos and a fair squeeze of ranch...

Max Marquette level 21 OT...

Is that the good pizza, or the bad pizza?

It would be fun for random things like... Vince: My God, King...you've aged terribly since Survivor Series!!

Drew, it will be an honor to face you one on one. I can't speak for everyone else, but, at least in my mind, you are a legend.

Don't worry about it, Toxx. I only gave you the intro. I should have been a better partner.

Remember Dean Stockwell and his cameo as Howard Hughes in Tucker: The Man and His Dream? Anyways, I always found it odd that when he was talking to Tucker and his son in that hangar, he was manically chomping on peanuts or some other nut. Vince should come back and offer everyone some nuts with the thousand yard stare in his eyes. I think it would just be fun.

I look at Panic at the Disco being Fallout Boy's replacement in this game. They really needed to throw some suck in. Dream Theatre being in the game should be fun....or highly irritating. Pinball Wizard is going to be a great party song, as well. Lastly, at least the Linkin Park track will be back from when I was in high school, and can make great fun of it.

My contract is up with some team somewhere called the Dallas Rampage. I will not re-sign. He's a level 20 OT named Max Marquette.

I am looking forward to the expanded Be a Pro mode. Also, I love playing online when everyone plays their position and knows to pass the damned ball. When I play with people like that, we kick ass.

Promo: "Within Earshot" Munich strides through some musky corridors somewhere in Belize, or Honduras. It's an international house show, and Munich is walking with an extra hop in his step. He was victorious in a hard fought match with Daniel Smith in Venezuela. Not quite as importantly, he is about to about up a fresh pack of smokes and indulge himself in the parking garage. The world seems a bit brighter, his new attitude seemingly paying dividends. After stuffing the plastic wrap and paper-foil in his pockets, he produces a cigarette and smashes it between his lips. Lighter in hand, he strolls towards the designated smoking area. He can't help but hear his name ring out in a conversation from the locker room. Munich approaches and peers around the open doorway, finding the returning Longdogger Pete and Ben Hardy in conversation. He quickly takes the cigarette out of his mouth and cradles it between his fingers. "Son of a bitch," Munich angrily mutters under his breath. He tunes out for a moment and focuses on the oblivious Hardy. Not noticed by the two men, Munich waits until the conversation ends. He stands back just out of view from the doorway, looking to catch Hardy at the right moment. Ben approaches and takes a turn right into Munich, bumping into the large man. "Hey, Ben! Lets take a walk," Munich states, gripping Hardy by the shoulder in a semi-friendly way. He coerces and turns Hardy around, and begins to guide him towards the parking garage. Frightened, Hardy begins to walk with Munich. "Where are we going?" asks Hardy in a panic. "We are going outside for a smoke," says Munich matter-of-factly. "But … but I don't smoke," says Hardy in a panic. "I know," Munich states in a calm manner. The two men finally reach the parking garage and wind up just outside of the backstage area. The thick, hot air outside causes Hardy's eyeglasses to temporarily fog up. Munich quickly lights the cigarette he had been saving. Hardy squints around the parking garage as he wipes down his cheaters with a cloth produced from his khaki pocket. "I'm not going to hurt you," says Munich, the words slightly muffled on his cancer stick. "But even with a bummed I'll run you down," he says. After a slight wheeze, Hardy places his functional glasses back onto his face. "So, what's up, Munich? Did you see that LDP is back? You think you may reform XF-" Hardy trails off on his last question, his eyes locking with the slightly perturbed eyes of his kidnapper. "In Junior High, a rumor started that I killed cats, skinned them, and hanged their hides on a chain link fence at my house. I didn't like the whispers behind my back, Ben," Munich says, his eyes off into space. "What … what do you mean, Munich?" the small man asks. "I don't like them now," Munich continues, taking a second for a drag. "I heard you talking to Pete, Ben. I heard you tell him that I'm not a big fan of his," Munich says, then turns his eyes towards Ben, who is petrified. "Remember. I'm not going to hurt you," he says again, keeping his calm. "But what in the world gave you the idea that I have a problem with him, Ben?!" Munich says with a bit of vinegar in his mouth, his cigarette hand waiving in the air, sending a spiral of smoke over the two men. Ben stares at him blankly for a minute. "When you said that X Force Nine is … fucking dead, I thought that you were alluding to you having issues with everyone involved," says Ben. He takes a deep breath afterwards, thinking it may be his last. Munich stays calm. After scratching the back of his head with his off hand, Munich explains himself. "I was exercising a lot of demons, Ben. At no time did I point to anyone. Okay. Maybe I was pissed at Annie a little bit, and she helped place the concrete block on the accelerator," says Munich. He spins in a circle, and looks back at Hardy. "To set the record straight with you, and for you to end this rumor you are spreading, there is nothing from myself to LDP but respect. We were never that close. He was wise, and I was a dumbshit. We had each other's back, though. That's what mattered most. And … while I know what I said about not wanting to be XF9's Munich anymore, it doesn't mean I would say no to LDP for some back up on occasion, which he probably doesn't need. If LDP gets jumped in the back and I know about it, I'm there," he finishes. Halfway done with his cigarette, he flicks some ash down onto the ground and waits for Hardy's volley. "You sounded jealous when you spoke to the camera a couple of weeks ago. I just assumed that you were upset with Pete," Hardy says. "Of course I'm jealous of Pete. I'm jealous that he did so many great things, and this return isn't even needed for him to retain his spot in federation history. I'm breaking down and I know this is my last chance to do something epic," Munich says, looking away once more. "I haven't even done anything yet, either," says Munich, looking at his past. "My apologies then, Munich," says Hardy earnestly. "Don't worry about it," says Munich, sawing his hand through the air. The two men stand quiet for a moment, both of them developing a layer of sweat on their brows. "You should probably welcome Pete back," says Hardy. "He's already welcome back, and knowing him, I'll see him in the ring in no time," Munich answers. Munich snuffs out the cigarette into an ashtray, and throws the paper and plastic into a nearby trashcan. "Good talk," says Munich as he heads inside, leaving an exhausted Hardy leaning up against the nearby wall.

You know...I've been kicking around the idea for a little while now to try my hand at an erotic short story. What the hell? Right?

That is why I started and am trying to still write wrestling matches. If Tod doesn't mind, I'd like to read his match.

That was actually one of the easier matches for me to mark, if I recall. It was silly how he complained to you and not me, at least right away.

I took on Andersen, too. I would go with a match of foseball, myself. On a side note...I think I marked the first Miami Mayhem match. I think that I pissed off whoever you were writing against.

Good show, everyone. DIVEFIRE~! Did I write unopposed?

I have a question for everyone regarding this show. I'm still getting used to being back and, for the most part, active. After perusing the stats thread, I saw that Toxx posted the stats of one of my partners. Am I teaming with Toxxic? I'm just saying that this would be like my 2001 self teaming with Cyclone Comet or Neilsen of the Jungle. Oh..and I would be facing Rane, too. I feel strange.

“X-Force Nine is a burden that I wear. At seems that everyone else involved with that damned poor man’s Midnight Carnival moved on or stopped existing in the SWF. Some faded away like the Supreme of Smack, or Low Brass. Some went forth from the stable and went on to bigger and better things. People like Pete and…Annie,” says Munich, making sure to pause before mentioning that name. This name that disgraced him, and once again robbed him of whatever manhood he had left. He takes a drag of his cigarette during the pause. Two separate clouds of smoke escape both his nose and mouth as he finally mentions that name. The camera, obviously held by an amateur, goes through small shaking fits as it focuses on the man speaking. The camera zooms back from the once unflattering close up of Munich’s nicotine stained fingers and teeth, and moves into a wide view that eventually comes into focus. There’s Munich, with a stark black background behind him. Next to him as a random medical trainer that is working on closing up his gashed left forehead. Most of the blood has been cleaned away, leaving only little specks of crust near his hairline. “What happened to me tonight looked really bad. It felt worse. It didn’t hurt too bad to get hit in the back with the Bokken. I got a kick to the testicles like Steven Gerrard was on the other end. I’ve had my testicles bitten before. That’s another story for another time. My head got rammed into the steel steps. That one is a bit of blur. It was two right?” Munich asks the man beside him, his eyes darting up and to the left. The man grunts an affirmative response. “Yeah. Then I remember getting a bit dizzy when I got into the ring. Then I was on my back. I’m remembering the end now!! I tasted my own move for the finish. It’s not really my move anymore. I doubt I can even do it anymore. I’m not physically able to do it anymore, really. I just named it the X Force Nine, just in case I could use it somehow. It would remind people that I had potential. Maybe, I thought, it would remind them I was actually good once, and not just a meat bag,” he says. He waves his hand, and the camera quickly and erratically moves in towards the gash on his left forehead. It finally focuses on the work being on this part of the body. The viewer can see the stitching needle dancing in and around the area, quickly closing up the wound. You can hear Munich give the word to zoom the camera out. “That is the mark I bear for being a part of the past. X-Force Nine helped put me down tonight. XF9 has been something I have never been able to get out of the shadow from. And…XF9 is something that I haven’t tried to get rid of. I’ve always been waiting for the opportunity to bring it back, or to be a part of it again. When I was promoted to the then IGNWF we were supposed to bring it back. Then Apostle went off the deep end. He drove a bulldozer through HVT’s house,” he says with a chuckle. The viewer can then see an unobstructed view of Munich, the trainer having finished up his job. He tone changes sharply and he chains together a second cigarette. His tension level rises as he continues. “My past has been a crutch. It’s something I couldn’t shake and something I couldn’t leave behind. Tonight was the most humiliating and destructive night to my career. Everyone was able to actively watch X-Force Nine get the better of me! Low Brass isn’t walking through that door! The Apostle is not going to levitate through the doorway! Hell! Even Malice isn’t going to walk through that door, give me a sledgehammer and tell me to pummel his brother Ivan again!” he exclaims, his face reaching a new shade. "That stable has done nothing but help me not realize that there's more to this place than feeling comfortable! It's about getting in a tight spot, blinded by your own blood, and meanwhile there are two guys and a woman that corner with steel chairs! Then you have to decide if you're going to run away or stick around and keep scraping until their blood forms a crust underneath your fingernails! I want no comfort! Not anymore! No card games! No parties! No everclear usage that's not as a weapon! No more friends!" Munich lets out a primal yell, throwing his cigarette to the floor in disgust. “X-Force Nine is FUCKING dead, and so is everybody else!" <> -- -

I have nothing to say, really...except that I enjoyed this promo.

You know what. I will stand by my silly idea and we should do a boat show. It will add all kinds of psychology to matches. Seasickness will be the new chair to the knee! This is coming from the guy who helped come up with a hockey rink match, and a no rest hold match. A ladder match would have worked so much better in both spots.

Let us just forget I said anything. I have just finally realized the error of my ways. One word for Spike....interpreter.