Post by Nick Maniwa on Oct 10, 2011 19:23:46 GMT -5
BJ already has a match with Bucky Collins that night. Jimmy Jacobs issued an open challenge and according to my feed on Facebook, it just got answered.
thereedbentley.weebly.com/reeds-repartee.html
My name is Reed Bentley. You saw me at King of the Deathmatches as I risked life and limb in front of the most perverse, morbid professional wrestling fans in the entire continent and took Rory Mondo to his limit in an Ultraviolent Tables match that changed both of our careers forever. Before I take professional wrestling like I've taken everything else I've wanted in life, I wanted to help the lower-class folks understand why I have to hurt their heroes (and one in particular).
Professional wrestling was a love of mine from a young age. As a teenager, I logged onto the internet, I saw the video clips of all of the violence in IWA Mid-South and I got hooked. I bought the VHS tapes and the DVD's. One guy caught my eye above the rest: Jimmy Jacobs. He was a good-looking, clean-cut young man who was intelligent enough to manipulate any situation he was in and had an aspect of his personality that made it alright to stab another living, breathing human being with a railroad spike. He could cause chaos and violence, but he did it with FINESSE. He was athletic and could out-wrestle any pure wrestler in IWA, then turn around and leave them in a puddle of their own blood without blinking an eyelash. I'll admit whole-heartedly: Jimmy Jacobs helped mold me into the morally reprehensible human being that I am today.
I've continued to follow you, Jimmy. I've seen you become a sad shell of himself. You're still a fantastic competitor; a championship-caliber veteran who knows every trick of the trade. But, you're losing your edge. The saddest part is that you're willingly give it up; it's not as if you're aging or slipping. I have come to IWA Mid-South with one goal in mind. I've picked up that razor-sharp edge that you used to rule independent wrestling without thinking twice about ruining a fellow competitor's life or seriously injuring an enemy just to amuse yourself. I picked it up and I must slice your throat with it. I must take your spot. You're taking up space by being Jimmy Jacobs in name and body, but not spirit.
I won't need any weapons or foreign objects to hurt you, Jimmy. If my Ivy League counterpart Christopher Nowinski has taught us anything, it's that professional wrestlers who have wrestled for any length of time have suffered a few concussions. You've been hit in the head a few times, Jimmy. I fully intend on capitalizing on it by hitting you with my Ivy Leap (that's a jumping enziguri, for you plebeians), a kick that I've mastered and have knocked the toughest, meanest and baddest men you could think of, out cold. I WILL hurt you. I will hurt you with that kick worse than you've ever been hurt. It'll be the injury that everyone who ever told you not to be a wrestler was scared you would suffer.
This Friday night, October the 14th, in Bellevue, Illinois, you had the gall to issue an open challenge to anyone in IWA Mid-South. You thought you'd get an opponent in Bellevue; a young kid with some spunk who you could out-wrestle as the wrestling world marveled at how crafty you are. Instead, you're getting an executioner.
Sincerely,
Reed Bentley
thereedbentley.weebly.com/reeds-repartee.html
My name is Reed Bentley. You saw me at King of the Deathmatches as I risked life and limb in front of the most perverse, morbid professional wrestling fans in the entire continent and took Rory Mondo to his limit in an Ultraviolent Tables match that changed both of our careers forever. Before I take professional wrestling like I've taken everything else I've wanted in life, I wanted to help the lower-class folks understand why I have to hurt their heroes (and one in particular).
Professional wrestling was a love of mine from a young age. As a teenager, I logged onto the internet, I saw the video clips of all of the violence in IWA Mid-South and I got hooked. I bought the VHS tapes and the DVD's. One guy caught my eye above the rest: Jimmy Jacobs. He was a good-looking, clean-cut young man who was intelligent enough to manipulate any situation he was in and had an aspect of his personality that made it alright to stab another living, breathing human being with a railroad spike. He could cause chaos and violence, but he did it with FINESSE. He was athletic and could out-wrestle any pure wrestler in IWA, then turn around and leave them in a puddle of their own blood without blinking an eyelash. I'll admit whole-heartedly: Jimmy Jacobs helped mold me into the morally reprehensible human being that I am today.
I've continued to follow you, Jimmy. I've seen you become a sad shell of himself. You're still a fantastic competitor; a championship-caliber veteran who knows every trick of the trade. But, you're losing your edge. The saddest part is that you're willingly give it up; it's not as if you're aging or slipping. I have come to IWA Mid-South with one goal in mind. I've picked up that razor-sharp edge that you used to rule independent wrestling without thinking twice about ruining a fellow competitor's life or seriously injuring an enemy just to amuse yourself. I picked it up and I must slice your throat with it. I must take your spot. You're taking up space by being Jimmy Jacobs in name and body, but not spirit.
I won't need any weapons or foreign objects to hurt you, Jimmy. If my Ivy League counterpart Christopher Nowinski has taught us anything, it's that professional wrestlers who have wrestled for any length of time have suffered a few concussions. You've been hit in the head a few times, Jimmy. I fully intend on capitalizing on it by hitting you with my Ivy Leap (that's a jumping enziguri, for you plebeians), a kick that I've mastered and have knocked the toughest, meanest and baddest men you could think of, out cold. I WILL hurt you. I will hurt you with that kick worse than you've ever been hurt. It'll be the injury that everyone who ever told you not to be a wrestler was scared you would suffer.
This Friday night, October the 14th, in Bellevue, Illinois, you had the gall to issue an open challenge to anyone in IWA Mid-South. You thought you'd get an opponent in Bellevue; a young kid with some spunk who you could out-wrestle as the wrestling world marveled at how crafty you are. Instead, you're getting an executioner.
Sincerely,
Reed Bentley