A pair of green checkered sneakers were kicked up on a table in the backstage area. And those sneakers matched the pants of the owner of that footwear. The camera panned up even more to give the viewer a full picture. The final part of the young woman's ensemble was a black hoodie and the hood portion was tucked over the female's head so only a few fiery red strands could be seen poking out. The hood cast a cool shadow over the young woman's face and with her arms folded over her stomach she lifted her head upwards.

Becky Lynch: My name is Becky Lynch. And you might be able to tell from the accent that I'm Irish. So let me get all of your dumb little stereotypes out there before everyone else gets the chance.

The racism and injustice Irish born performers in the wrestling business faced was daunting. The struggle is real.

Becky Lynch: I don't do "jigs". I don't have a leprechaun. I don't yell "FELLA!!". I don't drink like a fish. Did I get them all? Or did I miss something about potato's?

Another comparison popped up into her head as if a herd of butterflies vomited them up into her brain.

Becky Lynch: And I ain't nothin' like Lita. I'm more coordinated then a three legged buffalo, I'm not forty and I don't have the world's ugliest splash of ink on my arm.

The hooded rocker placed her feet down and propped her elbows up on the table in front of her.

Becky Lynch: But do you want to know what I do? I kick people so hard in the face that they lose teeth. I break bones. See, you soft Americans wouldn't make it in my scene. You're all lame and entranced by Ariana Grande and Taylor Swift. You think "hard" is Fall Out Boy.

A scoff. Pete Wentz was not hard. Not hard at all. Not hard ever.

Becky Lynch: Put any of your little Diva's in MY scene and I guarantee they would cry. Their ears would bleed. Their necks would snap. Which is why I'm going up against some Canadian indy reject named Lufisto.

Becky shook her head. Anyone with "FIST" in their name should have evoked more fear but that was not the case.

Becky Lynch: Just last week, her running mate, the big, tough, SCARY, Awesome Kong couldn't even beat a blindfolded little girl dressed like a Disney fantasy. Forgive me if I'm not exactly shaking in my boots. My thoughts are, if that chick is supposed to be her backup, then how tough can Lufisto actually be? Her monster couldn't take out a child.

She threw her hands behind her head and regained her lazy posture.

Becky Lynch: Not. Sweatin. It. One. Bit. Lufisto's around to cash a check and try make everyone that gets past her look "tough". Hell, of a fine job she's done of that, huh?! I can rearrange her facial features and no one's going to complain because she ain't pretty or sparkly. Rearranging facial features is something I'm a pro at. She's tryin' to play the whole "I'm a real wrestler and I'm tough and I don't need to be pretty angle." Sad news for her!

Her hood was pulled down and, yep, she was certainly an attractive lass and it wasn't even surprise to see her sought after by the big name feds.

Becky Lynch: You gotta be able to stomp someone's brains out and look hot while ya do it! So shuffle off! Your spot as the resident "tough one" is taken! You're no longer desired! Go back to wherever the hell ya came from! Take your toothless monster with ya!

Slamming her hands onto the table she leered in closer to the camera and would probably bite down on the lens if it wasn't expensive and not delicious.

Becky Lynch: Or I'll send ya there in pieces.