From the Vault: Ejiro amz beingz a good writer!

[Mr. S£im Citrus 0]

Everybody knows that Ejiro writes kick ass matches, but some people who've only been around since Fasaki v. 2.0 may not know that the Rule also rules at writing promos.

 

With WC/Ejiro kicking off one mo' 'gain, I thought I'd post two Ejiro promos that helped to establish the rivalry back in the JL. So, without further ado:

 

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Ejiro Fasaki, Why is he mad at WildChild again?

Written: November 27, 2002

 

 

Ben Hardy sits in a high-backed chair as he sits in front of the camera wearing a red golf shirt and holding a clipboard. The lovable tool looks into the camera and breaks into a big toothy smile before breaking into a prewritten speech.

 

“Welcome everyone to a sit down interview that SJL has been so gracious to allow me to present to you here today. My guest here tonight will be facing The WildChild in just a few days in a scaffold match, is none other than The SJL European Champion, Ejiro Fasaki.”

 

The camera pulls back to reveal Ejiro is sitting next to Hardy in a similar chair, and wearing a Magnificent Seven football jersey and pair of black jeans. Leaning back on the chair, Ejiro folds his legs in front of him as Hardy continues to speak.

 

“Ejiro, my first question has to be... what exactly do you have against WildChild that is so bad that you have to take your issue twenty feet above the ring on a scaffold. What exactly did WildChild ever do to you?”

 

“What did WildChild do to me?” Ejiro shrugs. “Well, I guess it would just be easiest to let you know... that in the simplest terms. I just hate him.”

 

“Hate is a strong word.”

 

“Hate is a strong emotion, Ben. It’s actually a lot like love in a way. It can motivate you to do a whole lot of different things. It can get you up in the morning to train for hours on end. It can motivate you to do things that you didn’t think were possible for you to do. But most of all, it causes you to lose a little bit of control. You see, Ben. Love of wrestling, used to get me going each and every day. When I was cold, wrestling would warm me up. When I was hungry, wrestling would make the pangs disappear. But, after ten years in this business... you get to the point where love just isn’t enough. When you are continually passed over by the larger promotions... When you are put into the opening match over and over again... Eventually, the love fades. And that is when our old buddy hate steps in.”

 

“But why is it centered on WildChild? Why him specifically?”

 

Ejiro chuckles, “You think my hate is exclusive to WildChild? That’s a laugh. I hate Johnny Dangerous too. I hate The Insane Luchador. I hate Matt Myers. I even hate you. And do you know why?”

 

Ben Hardy gulps, “Why is that?”

 

“Because you and people like you treat wrestling in a manner that makes it and me look ridiculous. You prance around playing your little roles, pretending to be spies or punk rockers. Making me, making The Magnificent Seven, look bad. Just by being in the same sport as you.”

 

“So The Magnificent Seven isn’t like that?”

 

“Of course not.”

 

“But I mean, Judge Mental and Fugue aren’t strait laced types either...they have gim...”

 

“Don’t even say that word you worm. See it is comments like that, that make you look like such an idiot. Judge Mental has every right to wear the robes to the ring and call himself a judge, because he is one. Fugue has every right to act like he’s obsessed with music. Because if you spend any time with the man, you find out that is really what he is like. That’s the thing about us, Ben. We are what we say we are. People like WildChild put on an act for the people. Do you realize if WildChild acted like he does in the ring, he wouldn’t even be allowed in a restaurant?”

 

“Because of the shoe thing?”

 

“Yes, Ben, because of the shoe thing. So if you want to know why I hate WildChild... I guess that is it. And I am going to continue to hate him until he learns, once and for all.”

 

“Learns what exactly?”

 

“Learn that wrestling is a serious business. That it isn’t a place for playing games and ‘entertaining.’ It’s man on man combat and should be treated as such. Anything else is a waste of energy and time.”

 

“So if you want to show WildChild how to wrestle, how come you’ve never faced him in a strait wrestling match? Every time you two have faced, it has been under some stipulation. Why is that, if you are trying to show WildChild how to wrestle?”

 

“Let me tell you a story, Ben. Back when I was training in what a local promoter laughingly called a dojo I had a bit of a chip on my shoulder. I went around, mouthing off about how good I was, wrestling on the canvas. When one day, a new face appeared in the training hall. Seamed as though a young wrestler by the name of William Hearford came into the territory for a brief tour.

 

“Hearford? You mean Judge Mental?”

 

“That’s right. And he and I didn’t exactly see eye to eye at the time because I thought I had all the answers. But then, Judge Mental changed the questions. In a little altercation that I’m not even sure Judge remembers anymore, he took me down to the mat. Where I thought, I was king. And he showed me something. He pinned me the canvas in such a position that I would never have escaped at the time unless he allowed me. He took a young bronco like me and broke me. By beating me at my own game... Judge Mental had shown me a little glimpse of what it was really like to be a real wrestler.”

 

“And what does that have to do with WildChild?”

 

“See, WildChild doesn’t think he’s a mat wrestler. He thinks he can just fly around and brawl and not have care in the world. What I am doing, what I am trying to do. Is to beat WildChild at his own, sick, twisted game until he sees the light like I did all those years ago. Because there is nothing like the discovery that there is someone out there better than you at what you do best. And when I find out what WildChild holds most dear about himself... and destroy it. Then he will be free. Free to rebuild him self into something more, something greater. To the point where I can look him right in the eyes and tell him. I am not better than you, we are equals and we can BOTH prove it

 

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Ejiro's Last Word

Written: January 21, 2003

 

You know, every once in I while, even I like to poke around the internet wrestling community and take a look about what people are saying about me and about my title reign at the top of the Smarks Junior League. It's a failing of mine I realize, but there is just a little piece of me that wants recognition from people who follow the business like a religion. I feel as though the amount of work and dedication I have put into my career entitles me to that little conceit. So I think you'll understand why, when I look at the net and to the hardcore fans I expect that little bit of respect. And so, when I look at my computer screen and see people claiming that I'm "nothing special and a little dull" I get just a little bit angry.

 

So let me tell everyone a little story that I like to share with my closest friends every so often just to remind them exactly what is so very special... about me. See, a long time ago as I was coming up in this sport, I happened to have a match in my hometown of Sarasota. Florida. Taking advantage of the situation, I called up a person whom I trust and admire, and asked him to come down to the matches and take a look at what I had accomplished as far as my skills were concerned. He accepted the offer and watched from the crowd as I had one of the better matches of my career against a local wrestler by the name of Billy Roderick. After going back and forth for several minutes on the mat, I finally managed to snare Mr. Roderick in a Peterson Roll and held him down for that elusive three count. And man did that feel good. I had wrestled smart and well and got what would be considered a mild upset by the people that followed that territory. Walking backstage with my hands in the air, I just knew that my guest would be pleased as hell with my performance.

 

So after the matches were done and we were heading towards the house, I turned to my guest and asked, "So what did you think, dad?"

 

Turning to me slightly as he drove, my father said to me without a trace of malice or of hate, "Son, I don't think you can make it in wrestling."

 

Looking at this man who had supported my wrestling career since the very beginning, I thought to myself that I must have made some sort of glaring error in the match that I had simply missed. Maybe my elbows weren't as snug as I had thought as they rattled Billy's teeth. Maybe I didn't snap Roderick over with the best snap suplex I could have. Maybe ... maybe I just stunk. I asked my father the natural question of what I did wrong and he told me. He told me that while my match had been going on, his eyes were not on the ring... but on the people that surrounded it. On the fans that had come to sit in a little sweatbox of a gym to see wrestling action. He looked at me again out of the corner of his eye and said, "I just don't think the fans cared that much about your match. And considering how much of your job entails entertaining them... I don't think you can ever accomplish what you want to." I sat in silence the rest of the road home where my mother was preparing some chicken salad and thought about what my father had said to me.

 

And that is when I realized just how right he was. I came to the conclusion that night, that fans really just aren't all that interested in me or how I wrestle. Because unlike some people, I do what I need to do to win each and everytime I go to the ring. If that means I have to take a chinlock for fifteen minutes, that is what I will do. But the fans aren't there to see who wins and who loses. Oh no. They want a show. They want to see people like Johnny Dangerous dress up like a spy. They want to see Dace Night chasing other wrestlers around with a weed wacker. They want to see high flying clowns like WildChild flit about the ring and hope to land on top of something. But that is not what they see out of Ejiro Fasaki. Oh no. What they see with me is a wrestler who is actually out there competing. A wrestler that cares about winning championships and holding them. A wrestler that knows that a cross armbreaker is more effective than hitting someone with a chair! But the fans don't want to see that. They want the gimmicks... the violence... and the high flying garbage that WildChild breaks out every night of the year.

 

It's people like WildChild that have kept me from getting the true respect I deserve. It's people like WildChild that fail to live up to the expectations of what real wrestling should be. It's people like WildChild that caused my own father to tell me I cannot make it in the wrestling business. So what am I to do? Quit? Oh no... I'll never quit. What I will do is simply destroy. Destroy those who make a mockery out of me, by entertaining those unwashed masses better than I ever could. Because no through it all, all I really want is to be recognized as the very best this industry has to offer. I just cannot do that with men like WildChild in my way... and so... on January 26th... at Malice in Wonderland.... I will remove WildChild from my path the only way I know how. To be better than him and to prove it.

[Angel_Grace_Blue 0]

The inter nets is serious business.