PROMO: Workrate Report

[Toshiaki Koala 0]

“…It’s so refreshing, in an age and a promotion where finisher burning has become not only tolerated but required, to see a match in which every move means something, in which something that happens at the beginning can have a drastic effect later on. The fact that it’s an iron man match, where multiple falls are expected, may be a reason for this. Credit, though, must be given where it is due. Certainly, Wildchild does his best to steer it into spotfest territory, but his opponent is so skilled that things remain safely under control, and the result is a match that’s not only one of the year’s best but one of the finest examples of carrying and covering that you’re ever likely to see. Four and one-quarter stars.”

 

Scott Pretzler, standing backstage in front of a large SWF logo, lowers the computer printout in his hand. Having finished reading his 13th Hour Workrate Report, he now addresses the audience directly.

 

“Now, I’m not one to be throwing out snowflakes like it’s Christmas in Maine. When I give a rating like that, you’d better believe I mean business.”

 

PRETZ-LER SUCKS!

PRETZ-LER SUCKS!

 

“When I give a rating like that, you’d better believe I mean business.” By repeating himself, he hopes to silence the fans. It doesn’t work.

 

PRETZ-LER SUCKS!

PRETZ-LER SUCKS!

 

”When I give—shut up! The longer you do that, the longer I’m going to stand here. Is that what you want?” They begin to quiet down, now only booing him gently.

 

“Of course, the fact that I was in the match – naturally that’s going to result in some bias. Can I help it, though? Should I just stop wrestling so I can review ‘objectively,’ thus starving the industry of one of its most reliable talents? Should I put down my pen and deprive tens of loyal readers" (he smiles at the self-deprecating joke) "of my rapier wit and penetrating insight? No. I’m going to have my cake and I’m going to eat it. Now, back to business.”

 

He adjusts his collar.

 

“At Thirteenth Hour, I proved to all of my detractors that pure, unblemished wrestling does have a place in the main event. That cruiserweight wrestlers can headline a show and draw both money and acclaim. Mr. Flesher, I’m sure you had doubts as to whether your booking decision was the proper one, but let me make it absolutely clear: you could not have asked for a more successful main event. I say that as a fan, as a critic, as a worker, and as a participant – and I say it with absolute sincerity. Amazingly enough, many of the yokels in attendance actually stood up and cheered during the match, which is something they don’t often do when not prompted by cue cards or a snappy catchphrase!”

 

BOOOOOOOOO!

 

“My point exactly. I could go on for hours about the virtues of my match—“

 

“God, no!” Longdogger Pete suddenly shouts with horror.

 

“—but that would be nothing more than ego-stroking, something that has no place in this business. No, there is a much more important issue at hand. It concerns the SWF Cruiserweight Championship.”

 

A momentary silence falls over the crowd.

 

“Alright, look,” Pretzler says slowly. “It’s, uh, very sad that the Insane Luchador has… passed away. But he is dead, and the time has come to move on. I’ll admit it right now – I was never a fan. He was one of those people, like Wildchild, who just didn’t seem to respect the wrestling business, who didn’t realize that he was damaging the industry by popularizing a destructive style. And how exactly was he a luchador? He was white, spoke English, and he didn’t wear a mask. Huh?”

 

FUCK YOU SCOTT!

FUCK YOU SCOTT!

 

“Folks,” says Pete somberly, “the views expressed by Mr. Pretzler are solely his own and do not represent those of the SWF management. Mr. Rickmen was a beloved competitor…”

 

“I’m sorry, that was out of line. The reason I brought this up in the first place is that, obviously, something must be done with the title. And, as much as I hate to admit it… well, when Rickmen bit the dust, there was a Number-One Contender. Me. Some of you may be too young to remember this – I myself wasn’t even born yet – but when the interior of President John F. Kennedy’s limousine was redecorated with his brain matter, the presidency was immediately assumed by Vice President Johnson. Do you see what I’m getting at here? We may not have been close, but I think Rickmen would agree that logical way out of this is through a bloodless transfer of power to the next in line.”

 

BOOOOOOOOO!

 

“There is one more thing that must be said, and it concerns Wildchild. Undoubtedly, Mr. Child will attempt to petition the management to have the first shot at my new cruiserweight title, or even to receive the opportunity before the belt becomes mine. That is beyond my control. What I can guarantee is this: when I am champion, I will do everything in my power to make sure he never gets another chance to become Cruiserweight Champion. Do I respect him? Yes and no. While our relationship was never about respect, at Thirteenth Hour he took me to the very boundaries of my endurance. He may be a bad wrestler, but he’s a hell of an opponent. However, his decisive defeat in that match seems to have taught him nothing. Seeing him go out there and put on a gymnastics routine against our other Luchador – an actual Mexican this time – showed me as much. The fact remains that he can't tell an arm bar from a nudie bar.”

 

E-L-M!

E-L-M!

E-L-M!

 

“Indeed. But as I said, this was never about respect. To be honest, I just don’t see the point of having another match with him. I mean, Thirteenth Hour was the blowoff. I beat him, fair and square, in the middle of the ring, and that was that. I’ve already proven that I’m better than him. So why drag it out? Sometimes, Water Closet, you just have to give up.”

 

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

 

“Enough already! On a less fortunate note, Revolution Zero is no more. I just want to say that it was an honor to be part of such a hard-working and honest group of people, and I will remain good friends with all of them. I think, to a certain degree, it just wasn’t possible for three people going in radically different directions to remain a cohesive unit. Myself, the rising star; Toxxic, the former champion struggling to hang on in the twilight of his career; and Johnson, content to stay somewhere in the middle… it’s sad, but after a while we were a group in name only. Still, the legacy will live on. Unlike most of the wrestlers here - and certainly unlike all of you - the things we accomplished will never be forgotten.”

 

He nods to the cameraman and walks away, a cascade of boos following him.

[Mr. S£im Citrus 0]

:: sniffs the air indignantly ::

 

Carry job? I'll give you a carry job...

[Toshiaki Koala 0]

Just goes to show you what happens when you put Pretzler over.

 

In all seriousness, I'm extremely grateful that you did so, and if I haven't thanked you already, thanks a lot!

[Mr. S£im Citrus 0]

Hey, I was glad to do it. Besides, after you've been here long enough, it's practically your duty to help somebody else get over; better someone who shows interest in the fed and a desire to help make it better than someone who shows up for a minute and a half, helps himself to a title, gets everyone's hopes up, and then disappears like thief in the night (coughryandustincough)...

[Secret Agent 0]

Yes, that promo perfectly captures the Pretzler I said I was missing in the Lockdown comments thread. Good job and I know you'll do something good with the momentum.