A couple of weeks ago in Jersey I publicly stated that my personal mission is to change not just the face, but the body, mind, and soul of the pro wrestling business. I feel at this time that the best way to go about forcing that change is by vanquishing Nigel McGuinness and capturing the Ring of Honor World Title. Some would say that is quite the lofty goal, especially for a person of my age and experience level. I would tend to agree, but I want another shot. I'll do anything.
With that said, I have had two opportunities in the last 7 months. I came up short both times. So what would entitle me to another chance? Why would ROH give me a third match with Nigel? What can I do to prove that I deserve this belt?How can I complete this dream?
By knocking out Samoa Joe.
So consider this a challenge. Joe is coming to Chicago on November 22nd and everyone wants to know who his opponent will be. Well, it should be me. I'm sick and I am tired of these "former ROH legends" coming "home" to ROH from TNA. Try as they might to rekindle that flame within, TNA has bought off their spark, and that fire is long snuffed out.
Motor City Machine Guns? Beat em. Homicide? Pinned his shoulders to the mat. Now its Joe's turn. He'll be the next sell out I defeat and this time it's gonna be even sweeter. Because I want to knock him out. I want to kick his face off and knock him and his senses back to Orlando where he and his ego can recover in 4 minute, made-for-TV matches.
Now I respect Samoa Joe and all of his accolades, but the bottom line is that he isn't conditioned for me. I'm not washed up. I am not a has been. I'm certainly not a part of the Main Event Mafia. What I am is young. And hungry. And part of an honest revolution in the Age of the Fall.
My name is in the hat. I want Samoa Joe in Chicago. And then, I want my shot at the ROH World Title.
Is it possible to sense a national aura of hopelessness? A global uncertainty? Maybe it's just me but from my eyes it seems that passion is slowly disappearing across the board. Chalk it up to an American economic landslide. Maybe an endless "war" in the Middle East. But I have been sensing something lately. I see it in everyone's eyes. Feel it in her touch. I can hear it in their voices. Everywhere I look for comfort, there is something missing.
All I can think about lately is change. Are we doing too much? Are we not doing enough? Am I imagining all of this despair? Or does this run even deeper than I can dig?
I spoke earlier about goals. Well what we've done is not enough. We are coming up short. Drastic times call for drastic measures, and I am no exception.
True change comes from within. And I know what must be done.
We are the ones we've been waiting for....
the war is waiting....
no more waiting.
It's time to be responsible and accountable for our shortcomings. This life is ours. We live today. I have never been good at regret, and next time the real dream won't slip away.
So really, this job--like any other--is just an extension of life. Because the only bonds that matter are the ones you build. Age of the Fall is partly about camaraderie and relationships and trust, like life is. We're here to offer sanctuary to those who feel like those connections aren't meant to exist for them. And in that vain, we as a unified stronghold welcome Delirious with open arms. He adds to our veins a shot of unpredictability and a salivation for revenge. And with that vengeance comes focus and the intention to right the wrongs. And like in his case, when the indiscretion is the breaking of a heart, there is no force more powerful.
Then, as we head to Japan we are as strong as we have ever been...
The next two weeks are make or break...
The Briscoes can pout all they want. They can make their proclamations about returning to their roots, but the fact remains that they have lost touch. And shooting guns and drinking gallons of beer aren't changing a fucking thing. Their fire may have been reignited by their shortcomings, but our flame is burning as bright as ever. And we will carry that torch to Japan and come back home basking in a new glow....the reflection of a World Title on the back of our leader.
And when pay-per-view comes calling, I will do what I do best and deliver. In Boston, Jimmy and I will successfully end the championship promise of Kevin Steen. Why so confident, you ask? Because I can be. I am in the best shape of my life, and psychologically no one can hold a candle to Jimmy and myself. He is a mastermind and when it all comes down, let's be honest, Steen and Generico simply can't compete with us on a cerebral level. Try as they might; will themselves as I am sure they shall; those two are why second place is still a celebration--so slackers have something to be proud of.
And with all that gold, we will step into the ECW Arena and finish what we started one year ago by demolishing everybody in sight, and using their bodies as metaphors for every doubt in every heart in the world. Heartache and solitude and hopelessness are all real.
But so is triumph.
So is valor.
So are dreams.
Steel Cage Warfare is an end to the beginning.
We are the boys and girls who will change the world. We are the ones we've been waiting for.
Two big nights. Two big losses. Two more miles to run...
"Give me the strength to move this mountain..." I pick up the pace. I want my breath to disappear.
Each step is another reminder of my defeat. The distance blurs. My jaw stings to the rhythm of my stride. It's midsummer and I don't have any answers.
So I run a little further. So I stay out a little longer.
I believe in a place called home. These humble streets are the roots that wind deep and grip tightly the fabric of my existence. They remind me of who, and why I am...and of how far I have come, and still have to go. And they won't let me stop.
Life is about opportunity, about chances. And sometimes, about second chances. So I will take my shortcomings and wring them of dry of their lessons. What's left is the past, and I will put that behind me...
This Saturday in the brightest lights, in the grandest city in all of the world the guard changes hands...
The anticipation cuts out my sight and I scream the night my rage. No one needs to listen. And anyone who could hear wouldn't understand anyway. No one wants this as bad as me. Not Bryan, not Claudio, and not Nigel. I will run until the feeling in my legs dies like the echoes my voice carries into the Midwestern sky. Until all my thoughts are burned into the blacktop by the pouring sweat of my brow. Until the pain ceases and all that remains is belief. Hope. Until all I have is hope. We are the ones we've been waiting for. Change happens today.
"Aaaaannnnd we make a change on society to make a better future by winning title belts from various indy wrestling promotions???"
Before I tear this asshole a new...well, asshole, I would like to use him as a reference for an introduction. The Ring of Honor fans in Chicago are already acquainted, but I am using this forum tonight as a formal unveiling.
Age of the Fall, welcome your newest member; the SHIMMER Champion MsChif.
I could tell you her story, but you already know the details. Let me just say, she belongs among us. She is driven. She is passionate. Smart, capable, and under appreciated. And most importantly, the only mold she fits is the one her dreams have cast. Now, out of years of frustration and hard work, she is at the top of her game, but because she isn't a life size Barbie doll, she remains under the radar...and she's had enough. MsChif has found strength in our camp. And likewise, we have become that much stronger for accepting her. Some companies could take a hint. I digress...
Back to Mr. Anonymous. Back to answers...
You know what Mr. Anon, you're right. Yeah, we could be making a difference by joining the Peace Corps. Maybe we could donate blood more often. We could make some picket signs and march for a pro-choice. Or tie ourselves to a Christmas tree in hopes of preserving the legacy of Ol' St. Nick. Or we could go to college. Pre-med. Then we could get our Ph.D's. Become doctors. Save lives. Cure diseases. We could do that, but then we wouldn't be here, doing this....
And then where would you be? Where would Eric be? Where would Mick Foley be had he not been there to see "Superfly" dive off that cage onto Don Muraco in 1983?
Yeah, you're right Mr. Anonymous. We could all be doing something better with our lives. And that's the fucking point.
So we're wearing gold again. This time we won't be letting it slip away.
And for those of you who thought that maybe our distractions would set us back, or stagger us in the least, what are you thinking now? The Tag Title Tournament at Hartford was further proof that when the battle lines are drawn, we'll be at the front of the lines-- leading by example. Unlike a certain Leader of the Free World, we don't always send the poor or the weak. We "man up" and fight our wars with conviction and fire and balance. If you're still scoffing, fuck you. The proof is in the proverbial pudding. And in this case the pudding is silver and gold. :)
From Hartford to Philly is about a 4 hour drive. Most of the drive was spent listening to Hulk Hogan and the Wrestling Boot Traveling Band (the girl had nothing else worth giving a shot). Needless to say, if my two prior losses to Bryan Danielson weren't motivation enough, that red and yellow drivel sent me over the edge.
Stepping into that armory in Philadelphia I got goosebumps remembering the way I felt back in March when I let myself down by not capturing the World Title at Take No Prisoners. I was one count away on multiple occasions from seizing a dream. Flash forward now, to last Saturday. Respect is Earned II. I wasn't about to drop the ball again.
I truly feel that there is nothing that can stop Jimmy and I as a team. And when he fought his heart out trying to tear Aries to pieces, I took a spark from his flame and let it truly ignite in my eyes. And when the fans in Philly felt the temperature rise as it boiled down to just Bryan and I, I breathed in that smoke. Every voice was another log and the fire just kept building. It burned out the roof and lit up the sky. And when I felt the third count after my Phoenix Splash, I knew we had done it. We had proved our point. As a team, and as revolution...
The question I get asked most. "What are you guys revolting against, anyway?"
It's that mindset. That psychology. You know the one. It lands you in a cube farm, or with paper cuts on your hands from bagging groceries all day. It leaves you broken hearted. It keeps you voting. It keeps you buying shit--shit you don't need. Shit no one needs. It keeps you detached and afraid. It keeps you apathetic. It keeps kids on the streets and books on the shelves. It keeps and it keeps and it keeps going and going and going. It's that mindset. I know you know the one, because chances are, it's yours.
Send thoughts to firstname.lastname@example.org
Two and a half weeks ago we did just as I said we would. We tore down the superficial. We vanquished the facade. When Jimmy made Alex Shelley give up, Jimmy not only gained a measure of personal revenge, but through his desire and fortitude he showed the world that if you can visualize answers, they will appear. And now there is no longer a shadow; no longer a mask. Contracts and image and money mean nothing. Fuck exploitation. The reality isn't in the show, it's in our hearts. We believed. And we conquered. And as the garbage crashed like hail on our parade... I have never known such a beautiful shower of disappointment turned elation.
Unfortunately, our celebration was quickly soured, and just as Jimmy had put what he thought to be the last of his demons to rest by defeating Alex Shelley, it appears that old ghosts still haunt him. For now. There is not much I can ascertain relating to love and lust and how they effect Jimmy in this situation. All I can say is that anyone who has ever felt the sting of a broken heart has to empathize. More to follow...
One exception I do take in regards to Austin Aries is his use of the word "hypocrite" in relation to us and our fight.
In today's cynical world, where it has become more of a crime to believe in anything at all than it has to sit-- idle and ignorant, what kind of person do you think you are, Austin? I understand as well as anyone what personal turmoil and indecision can lead to. I know the road depression paves and uncertainty paints so simple and pretty. It's not easy to go down the gravel, signless road. It's not easy to figure things out on your own.
What we are Austin, is an alternative to that nice road that takes you to the big city and that nine to five-tired name tag-weekend warrior bullshit lifestyle. And you know what? On our end, there stand Age of the Fall and no one else. So we're fighting one versus one million. And you know what else? We're not afraid. Of the blind stereotypes like the Motor City Machine Guns. Or, of the silent cynics like you and 90% of middle class America. The ones who love to talk about all the things in this life that need to change, but never once stand up. Or even take a single look in the mirror.
And now it seems like you have been given a World Tag Team Championship. Wow. I bet you feel proud... Come the Hammerstein, we'll show you what action is all about when we pry that belt from your undeserving hands. Whether they are alive and clenched, or cold and dead...
But before we reach that road, Age of the Fall invades the nation's capitol. And there, on May 9th I find myself pitted--one more time-- against "The Best In The World."
...Bryan, the last time we met I took for granted your experience. I will give you all the credit in the world, as your moniker may not be such a stretch. But I truly believe that in Dayton last year, it was not you who beat me. It was me who beat me. A lot of kids go into matches with wrestlers they idolized just happy to be there. And the first time, maybe that is a halfway viable excuse, but it's also new motivation for me. I can defeat you Bryan Danielson. This time, will be nothing like the last time. This time, Bryan, I will defeat you.
The beauty of life is the struggle it becomes. Because then it's easy to "remember when." Then it's better to look ahead.
Stopping to smell the roses isn't what this is about. We're not here to bask in limelight, or to gloat, or to wait another day—no one in our camp waits for tomorrow. We're here to engage; to challenge; to change perspectives and to broaden horizons.
You'd be mistaken if you are to see this Friday's contest between the Motor City Machine Guns and the Age of the Fall as just another pro wrestling dream match. Sure, obvious inter-promotional implications have raised the stakes high enough; not to mention it’s Jimmy Jacobs vs. Alex Shelley in the heart of
On one side, the Guns are arguably the most popular and successful up and coming tag team in the business. They're good looking, they're athletic, and they happen to stand for nothing but tired bullshit. With them it's all fashion and flashy combos. Every week Shelley has a new hair cut to go with his calculated clever comment. Where's the substance in being stuck in that condition? Sell another t-shirt, boys. Stagnate on another quiet Thursday night...
And then the pitch changes. As Shelley and Sabin try feverishly to fit in with today’s over produced, faux counter culture, they end up looking like fools to the kids who believe in everything after looking the part. So by default the true counter culture rejects them. They…WE reject the notion that they carry any torch representing change in society. We're the ones breaking ground! We're the ones changing lives! And how? By starting with our own.
We didn't reinvent this approach; we're carving our own cracks in the sidewalk. The same cracks Shelley and Sabin, and everyone in wrestling tiptoe around, because they’re all so afraid of falling off, of hitting bottom. In case you've been under a rock for the last decade, you haven't missed much: THIS BUSINESS IS THE UNCHANGED. WWE sure isn't making any waves. TNA--and its prized Machine Guns--aren't faring any better. Even good ol' Ring of Honor has hit a glass ceiling.
Enter Age of the Fall. We’ve arrived offering answers. We are handing out solutions. It's as simple as flesh and blood. It starts with you. And it starts with action.
So, this Friday in
Because it's about more than a single match for me.
It's about timing.
It's about being unafraid.
It's about a sociological shift.
This Friday, AOTF vs. MCMG...
is for those who have heart.
So you call yourself the "Original Diva?" I really don't see how there's anything original about you. You're just the same as all the other women who came before you in the wrestling business who were nothing more than eye candy, and you're just the same as all the talentless Divas that have come after you. ANYONE can go out there and shake their ass and fake tits to get a crowd reaction. There's nothing special or original about you.
You say you'll be looking out for me in Orlando, eh? Well Tammy, I'm not hard to find. I'm sure I know right where you'll be...trying to corner Austin Aries and win him over with your so-called "assets." Unfortunately for you my dear, I believe Mr. Aries is far too intelligent to fall for your same old schtick. He belongs with the Age of the Fall. He knows it, we all know it...so stop trying to take something that isn't yours. As Jimmy and Tyler have said many times before, we are bigger than Ring of Honor, and we are bigger than pro wrestling. We are a revolution, a call to arms, a cry to stand up and fight for what you believe in--something you know nothing about. You're just one of the sheep, following the herd blindly. You can fake all the confidence you want, but we both know underneath all the plastic you're nothing. You're clinging on hoping for one more chance in the spotlight. NEWS FLASH: You're old and washed up. No one cares about you anymore.
Don't patronize me with idle threats. Don't tell me you'll be there somewhere 'looking out for me.' If you don't find me, I WILL find you, so we can settle this face to face. And don't think we're going to handle things in a fashion you're used to--there won't be any bikini contests or mud wrestling. You might want to buy yourself some SHIMMER DVDs and study up...
On to something else that is of personal significance to me, Alex Shelley makes his big Ring of Honor return on April 18 in Detroit. My real hatred for him is multi-layered. Our history is well documented, but in recent years our paths have diverged. While he parades himself as a national tv sell out, I have started a grass roots campaign, not in search of fame and money, but a goal to make a legitimate change in this world one person at a time. While he uses his tv time to simply feed his ego, I have touched people's lives in a very real way from the bottom up. And all that aside, I do have so many unsettled personal problems with him. It was a feud that began in 2002 in Detroit, and to this day, has never gotten any resolve in my mind. Beyond that, many people seem to believe that along with his tag team partner Chris Sabin, that the Murder/Motor City Machine Guns are the best tag team in the world. Well, while they failed to defeat the Briscoes in 2007, Tyler Black and I were the team successful to finally dethrone them to become the Ring of Honor world tag team champions. With so much to prove to the world, to society, to myelf, to this business, to the fans, and to Alex Shelley, I'm making a campaign to bring our feud back to where it started. In Detroit, Michigan, the home of the Machine Guns, I'm putting the offer on the table to Ring of Honor as a company and to the Murder City Machine Guns to have the match... MCMG vs AOTF.
The time to move is now.
I start tonight’s entry with a quote written in response to my last post. It is the final sentence of nuketheben’s comment:
“...but today is not the day for people like me to drink your kool aid.”
So tell me then, where did you pour this imaginary Kool-Aid we’ve been handing out? Because as far as I can remember all we’ve been dealing with here are ideas and honesty; not some formulaic poison or your scapegoat excuses.
And more importantly, if not today then when? How about when it’s too late? How about when our kids are growing up and dealing with more shit than you or I or God could ever foresee, let alone save? How about after the next nuclear holocaust? Sound good to you, motherfucker? Cause it sounds like you—and everyone like you—are the reason we’ve fallen this far.
It’s this fucking absurd idea that has a stranglehold on
But maybe, hopefully, those reading don’t fall into that category. No, I imagine most of the people who’ve let the message drift unabsorbed through their peripheries are even worse. I believe that the crime is not committed by the misfortunate, but rather by the sons and daughters of this generation who are intelligent and capable and well-off enough to lend a helping hand. Those apathetic fools, like nuketheben, who sit idly by and let the world rot, they…
…you…you pieces of trash are the catalysts for disaster. I see the shopping malls and superstores and suburban sanctuaries and they teem with greed. Being young and impressionable is one thing, but someday we all have to grow up and make a fucking change.
Eric’s story is a great start, but there are a million stories out there just like Eric’s. I realize understanding the magnitude of what Age of the Fall is trying to accomplish may be difficult, but so is the actuality of it. If you don’t believe this is about you, you’re dead wrong. This is about every single one of us, and the lives we lead. I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating:
Change your life.
Change the world.
Every great revolution started in the same place: someone’s heart. Tell me now that this can’t be real.
I buy my jeans from a thrift store for reassurance. I am a rebel. I am a social drinker. There’s nothing wrong with that. I don’t want to be like my parents either, but heroes are a waste of time. And religion? Ha. I scoff at anything organized. No one’s going to hell because it doesn’t exist. And what is morality anyway? Such hypocrites. The artists on my iPod no one is allowed to recognize, because pop music and money is for the sellouts. I don’t feel sorry for myself, in case you’re wondering. I just don’t want to be stuck here in this little state. Everyone here is so closed-minded. Maybe if they would get off their asses. And this. And that. And the rest…
We’re tired of the same old sad story. Everyone and all their pity.
What are you doing?
What am I doing?
Yeah, you—the kid with all the potential in the world—what are you doing?
I’m working, smoking, fucking, breathing.
Taking up space. Coveting. Consuming. And now they tell you to make a difference. They say, “You invoke change! Come out and vote!” Vote for whom? Who the fuck does the United States government and all these paid celebrity campaigners want you to vote for?
The Democrat? The Republican?
Fuck. That. These political pundits with all their talk about policy and bills and Operation: Iraqi Freedom. Like this is make or break. Like your vote makes a difference. How about a vote for indifference? Every single one of these proposed candidates represents the same thing: moderation. Fuck Left. Fuck Right. Fuck the Ass and the Elephant. I am not a proponent of extremism in any form, except extremist freedom. Open your eyes America; the war we need to fight is the war within. And I don’t mean inside the borders of our own country; I mean the war we wage every day in our hearts and in our heads. Democracy, Jihad, genocide? How about depression, anxiety, and the search for shreds of remaining truth in hope. How did we get all the way from hunting and gathering, to oppression and tyranny and self-destruction? Tragedy has taken hold, and so we get our name; this is the Age of the Fall, and nothing changes until it…all…crashes…down.
Acknowledging the setbacks of last weekend doesn’t mean we’ll dwell in defeat. Loss—and the reaction it—is a vital part of any personal growth. We came into the weekend knowing the deck was stacked against us. What’s new? We know no they don’t want to see us succeed. With our backs against the wall we came out firing in the hopes that our backwards hand would be able to fend off the predatory brigade that was closing in on our tag belts. Unfortunately, we fell short this time; losing our belts, and in the process, temporarily cutting the air from our voice.
…and the reaction it…
Because we’re still here. Because we’re still breathing. We’ve picked up our pride and dusted off its shoulder. Because there will always be something to fight for as long as exists persecution and genocide and desecration, both in physical and intellectual realms. Life as we know it is a war. Everyday is worth standing your ground, and we’re not waking up to back the fuck down. Remember all the times you’ve been stuck in a hole, alone. Whether it be by melancholy condition, a broken heart, or by way of an inexplicable entropic division of self; you feel like the bottom has dropped out and you’re stuck standing on this little ledge, alone. And every time you’ve cowered until daybreak showed you a regrettable escape. Every time until now. Now is the time we all close our eyes and step off this ledge together; into despair, into oblivion. And what awaits us? Freedom awaits; the will is the means to change our lives by doing and being the all the ways we know we can and should be. Simple, I say. And simple it is.
We had our taste of gold and the power it holds. It’s now an addiction. No Remorse Corps, be sure you haven’t heard the last of us. Come February. Come Lond Island and New York, we’ll ride in full force. Lacey, Jimmy, Necro, Myself… and Joey Matthews. Age of the Fall. Strength beyond strength.
He came to us with a chip on his shoulder. And it wasn’t what he spoke that got our attention. It was the look in his eyes that conveyed in conviction an aura of change; our change. He fits right in, we said. He’s glad to fall in line and fight this war, he said. His truths are our truths. And he gave us his pledge; his devotion. And in return we have given him the avenue to drive his point into the heart of this wretched business that has betrayed him time and time again. This weekend, for the first time in a long time, he’ll fight for the only answer any of us can ever really believe in: he’ll fight for himself.
Shedding light on another situation, our recruiting doesn’t stop with just this weekend. We’ve had our eyes on another talent that seems to have fallen off as of late. It seems that not only has his professional life been a victim, but personally his demons are biting at his heels. Now, what and why are questions that dig beyond what we can assume. Without those answers though, obvious changes in his demeanor and behavior have led Jimmy and me to believe that maybe we could be of some use to this confused soul. He seems to be spiraling down the same dark, vacant fissure we all fell into that landed us here, in this revolution. The question isn’t if, but when will he hit bottom?
Regression is a literal impossibility; disposed by ideas of revolution…
Lately, I have been presented with possibilities of reversion; as if our society could return to its past, when instinct governed and humanity was as simple as animal desire. I shun that notion. Keep in mind; we aren’t the bad guys here. It’s the weak who have vilified us, and the newly hopeful who have deified us…
Age of the Fall has set out to accomplish specific—though admittedly at-first perplexing—goals that involve the redesign of human nature. Some think the task is a lost cause. But I ask simply, why? If we follow the path, we won’t see the landscape. But, if we dare to dream then why can’t anything be possible? Anything, including a simple change in direction. It doesn’t have to be bigger than you and us, but when you is this ever-growing army we’ve been building, then when that army doubles, and then doubles again, and again, notice has to be taken.
This gold we’re wearing is an amplifier. If they didn’t want to listen before, they could tune us out, but now they have to hear what needs to be said. We are YOUR Ring of Honor World Tag Team Champions, and as such we are just the breath of fresh air that this decaying business needs. And not the breath to fill up its gasping lungs, rather the oxygen to ignite the fires that will burn it to the ground. We’ll take our second breath and blow those ashes to the wind. From there, we’ll build something new. We’ll fight for change. We’ll stand for the next generation of boys and girls who have nothing to believe in. We’ll be hope.
Tell me, what is one thing you want to change about your life? We’ll work from there.
Our humble revolution has now entered the New Year with gold on its mantle, but we still have a chip on our shoulder. We’ve taken our time to take it all in. And if ever there was a moment in time to celebrate, Final Battle was it. The Briscoe Brothers were formidable opponents and heroic champions throughout their illustrious reign atop the wrestling world. Ending their term as standard-bearers is not something to be taken lightly; so Age of the Fall members—wherever you may be—feel free to smile a short smile and let sensation cascade naturally through your veins. We did it. Together. We did this…
From scratch we built this up. From nothing to everything in such a short time. Lucky for dreamers the fight has only just begun. All we’ve changed is path. Remaining are the eyes and ears and hearts of millions who are left unaware. This revolution isn’t about the past. It’s about here and now and how we can make a difference by creating awareness, and simply changing the way we think and believe. The ones who oppose, you hate us for having ideals? For taking a stand? For taking chances? Then I say, stop being so afraid to feel. Remember, I started out just like you. Look at me now. Look at us now…we’re still dreaming.