It's not just about Dean Ambrose.
Posted: Mon Jun 15, 2015 10:55 pm
“So, you came and found me again, eh?”
The rag-wearing old man didn’t bother standing up to greet his visitor. Instead, he moved his trolley aside to allow the man to sit on his step. The visitor obliged, taking a seat and offering the apparently homeless man his bottle of whiskey. The homeless man shook his head.
Homeless man: Won’t catch me drinking. Rots ye teeth.
He smiled an almost toothless smile.
Dean Ambrose: This stuff is magic. It might grow them back. It won’t give you a shave, though.
Homeless man: Well start givin’ me money instead of usin’ me to open up to! I’m not ye therapist, young fella. Not that ye need one. One of the sanest chaps I’ve came across in this city.
Dean took one big swig then threw the bottle into a sign, which read ‘Sin City’.
Dean Ambrose: Well thankyou. That means a lot, coming from you.
Homeless man: Dusty died, eh?
Dean looked a bit taken aback by this.
Dean Ambrose: What, your cardboard box get CNN now?
The man chuckled.
Homeless man: Heh, if I were 10 years younger I’d give ye a bionic elbow of me own. When a legend passes, the mourning reaches every deep dark corner of every city. Guessin’ he was a hero of yours? Ye wouldn’t be any good if he weren’t.
Dean nodded.
Dean Ambrose: Wish I hadn’t thrown that drink away now, or I woulda drank to that.
Homeless man: Ye stronger than that though son. So ye must be here for something else.
Dean Ambrose: Nah, not really. Just a friendly chat this time. Don’t take yourself too seriously. You’re not on a Yoda level yet, grandpa.
Homeless man: Cheek of yer. Caught a glimpse of one of ye fights by the by. Snuck inte a bar off the strip, had it on the big screen. Caught ye takin’ out some trash with a friend of yers. Dodgy haircut.
Dean laughed.
Dean Ambrose: Cool that you caught that. And good timing. TV guide in one of your papers that week?
Homeless man: Darn straight. Who ye got this week? I’ll have to sneak into someone’s house this time though boyo. No cable television in them bars.
Dean Ambrose: Edge. Adam Copeland. Depends on how deep he’s feeling.
Homeless man: As deep as havin a one on one with a homeless fella ye don’t even know the name of?
Dean Ambrose: DON’T TELL ME IT! It takes away the mystique.
Homeless man: Guessin he’s a serious fella then eh?
Dean Ambrose: Rated R… Apparently.
Homeless man: I’m listenin’!
Dean Ambrose: Not your cup of coffee I’m sure. He’s old news… Which is a shame. I really like the guy. Hell, 7 years ago I wanted to be the guy. Now it feels like I’m taking the dog out the back and shooting him. And the dogs still got legs, y’know?
Homeless man: See. Nothin’ wrong with gettin’ deep laddy.
Dean shot the man a frown.
Dean Ambrose: I’m just saying. Kinda sucks. You idolise a guy for so long and then you step into the ring with him and you wonder if he even cares that he’s in there with you. These are the moments you dream of when you’re coming up.
It was the homeless man’s turn to frown.
Homeless man: Don’t talk to me about disappointment, sonny. Yer’ll lose that one.
Dean smiled this time. He put his hand in his pocket, rustled around, and pulled out a key.
Dean Ambrose: I don’t doubt that you know where I live, since you seem to know everything. I’m on the road for the next week. Go keep warm, eat and DON’T INVITE ANY FRIENDS ROUND. I got cable installed this week so you can pass the time with your favourite hobby - watching me.
The homeless man snorted.
Homeless man: You’re no Dusty, sonny boy. Not yet.
---
-Monday June 15th, Warfare-
“Hey Hey, My My” by Neil Young and Crazy Horse hit the PA as Dean Ambrose emerged from the back to a loud ovation. He walk to one side of the stage, taking in the crowd. Fresh from an interview backstage alongside his brother Seth Rollins, he felt much more invigorated than when he was in Vegas. After taking in more of the ovation he made his way down the ramp and slid into the ring. He stood in the middle, looked up to the sky, smiled, and then went to the corner. He took a microphone and waited for the crowd noise to die down.
Dean Ambrose: Well I’m not one for suckin’ up but this feels good.
The crowd cheered once again.
Dean Ambrose: Yeah I needed that. I may not need therapy but a little bit of crowd adulation goes a long way to making it a good day, y’know? But as awesome as all of this is… I don’t think I’m fully deserving of any ovation tonight. I feel like I’m one of the few good guys around here… But tonight, I feel like a bit of a bad guy. Now I know I’m not your typical hero. These clothes aren’t colourful, my haircut cost $5 and I don’t take life all too seriously. Tonight, however, I’m taking things a little more seriously. You see, you’re cheering me now, but I think a lot of you will also be cheering when you hear those heavy Scott Phillips. And you have every right to cheer. Edge…
Dean took a pause to allow the crowd to react, which they did positively.
Dean Ambrose: ...yep. One of wrestling’s true success stories. Not your average star… Not jacked like Hogan. Not ravishing like Rude. Not a giant like Andre. Not mysterious like the Undertaker. Not a pure athlete like Backlund or Angle. He’s none of those things, and do you know why? Because he’s not a Hogan. He’s not a Rick Rude. He’s not a Kurt Angle. He’s an Edge. The prototype of the guy who’s just not bred to be a star… but the guy who makes himself a star. I’m hoping it sounds familiar to you, and not just through Edge. Does it?
There was some cheering from the crowd, but other didn’t seem to understand.
Dean Ambrose: Hmm. I’ll take that. Well, what I’m saying is that I feel I can relate to Edge. I feel I am in a similar mould to him. And I know that sounds like me tickling my ego but hey, I’m not gonna lie to ya. Edge was my hero once upon a time. Hell, he should be everybody’s hero. The guy got to the top by being himself. A true lover of the industry that I now hold so dear, headlining events across the globe. That’s the dream, right? But you might have missed what I said… He WAS my hero. Once upon a time. Tonight, you get to see a conflicted Dean Ambrose undergoing a very sobering experience. Sure, I’m having the time of my life here in the EBWF. Life is awesome and my job is awesome. But as soon as my music hit tonight, I’ve felt in full business mode for the first time since I took on Crowe at the beginning of the year. Tonight, you see Dean Ambrose take on a man he once idolised. A man he went to lengths to emulate… I put my body on the line night after night whilst loving every minute of it and being myself 100% of the way. I didn’t live by anyone else’s expectations - only my own, and I didn’t let any setback stop me from getting to the top of the mountain.. No matter how long it took. That’s what Adam Copeland did. He defied gigantic odds, rising to prominence whilst side by side on the posters and magazines with Triple H, Stone Cold Steve Austin, The Rock, Shawn Michaels, John Cena, Randy Orton… Icons, stars and legends. Should he have gotten to the top with such company? Many would say no, but I say hell yes. Because no matter what - heart, passion and love for this business prevails over all. Love for this business…
Dean leant forward on the ropes, and seemed to be deep in thought.
Dean Ambrose: ...That love isn’t there anymore, is it Adam? That fire; that passion; that desire to be the man… It’s not been there for a while, has it? Finally, I’m in my prime and I’m coming up against you and, well, it’s just not gonna be how I dreamt it, is it? I feel like instead of two eras colliding - which this should be - it’s the younger guy taking the veteran out to pasture. In my mind and my heart - and maybe I’m just being a dreamer - this should be the Hogan vs Bret Hart match that didn’t happen in ‘93. And yet again, I sound big headed, but Hogan was the icon and Bret was the future. You are an icon, and I sure as hell am the future. But instead, we fight on Warfare. Your heart… maybe not in it at all. Perhaps just a throwaway King of the Ring second round match, drowned out by the others. A quick match where the kid knocks down the old timer and moves on.
Dean stood on the ropes and shouted straight into the camera.
Dean Ambrose: THAT’S NOT WHAT I WANT! AND THAT’S NOT WHAT YOU’RE GONNA GIVE ME.
The crowd cheered. Dean bounced back off the ropes and began pacing around the ring.
Dean Ambrose: Your mind can be wherever the hell it wants to be when you’re walking around backstage tonight, Edge. If your thoughts are with the flight home after Warfare - I couldn’t care less. When your music hits, and you come out onto that stage and these people cheer you like they SHOULD - you’re gonna look down the ramp and see me. Your opponent - sure. But not just that… Maybe the last real believer in Adam Copeland. And when you step through these ropes, and you come face to face with me, I’m not gonna let you take it lightly. You’re going to look into my eyes and see that I’m making this the fight of your life. And when you feel that passion, that fire and that drive between these ropes pulsing out through my blood and veins - you’ll remember just who you used to be. And I’ll make sure that happens. I’ll make sure I get the match I’ve been waiting for. Tonight isn’t just a King of the Ring tournament match. Thoughts of the crown can wait. Tonight is Dean Ambrose and Edge, one-on-one - and it will be everything that match-up has always promised to be. A collision between two SUPERSTARS that just weren’t meant to be. And no matter who wins tonight, Adam… I promise you, and each and every person in this arena, that both Dean Ambrose AND Edge are names that will make people hungry for more every time they step through those curtains. Names that will live on forever with Hogan, Michaels, Andre, Austin… And mark my words - your mind will be in this game. And it won’t be going anywhere after tonight.
Dean slammed the mic down and his music hit. He paced around the ring for a few seconds, apparently in a world of his own, before quickly exiting the ring and storming towards the back.
The rag-wearing old man didn’t bother standing up to greet his visitor. Instead, he moved his trolley aside to allow the man to sit on his step. The visitor obliged, taking a seat and offering the apparently homeless man his bottle of whiskey. The homeless man shook his head.
Homeless man: Won’t catch me drinking. Rots ye teeth.
He smiled an almost toothless smile.
Dean Ambrose: This stuff is magic. It might grow them back. It won’t give you a shave, though.
Homeless man: Well start givin’ me money instead of usin’ me to open up to! I’m not ye therapist, young fella. Not that ye need one. One of the sanest chaps I’ve came across in this city.
Dean took one big swig then threw the bottle into a sign, which read ‘Sin City’.
Dean Ambrose: Well thankyou. That means a lot, coming from you.
Homeless man: Dusty died, eh?
Dean looked a bit taken aback by this.
Dean Ambrose: What, your cardboard box get CNN now?
The man chuckled.
Homeless man: Heh, if I were 10 years younger I’d give ye a bionic elbow of me own. When a legend passes, the mourning reaches every deep dark corner of every city. Guessin’ he was a hero of yours? Ye wouldn’t be any good if he weren’t.
Dean nodded.
Dean Ambrose: Wish I hadn’t thrown that drink away now, or I woulda drank to that.
Homeless man: Ye stronger than that though son. So ye must be here for something else.
Dean Ambrose: Nah, not really. Just a friendly chat this time. Don’t take yourself too seriously. You’re not on a Yoda level yet, grandpa.
Homeless man: Cheek of yer. Caught a glimpse of one of ye fights by the by. Snuck inte a bar off the strip, had it on the big screen. Caught ye takin’ out some trash with a friend of yers. Dodgy haircut.
Dean laughed.
Dean Ambrose: Cool that you caught that. And good timing. TV guide in one of your papers that week?
Homeless man: Darn straight. Who ye got this week? I’ll have to sneak into someone’s house this time though boyo. No cable television in them bars.
Dean Ambrose: Edge. Adam Copeland. Depends on how deep he’s feeling.
Homeless man: As deep as havin a one on one with a homeless fella ye don’t even know the name of?
Dean Ambrose: DON’T TELL ME IT! It takes away the mystique.
Homeless man: Guessin he’s a serious fella then eh?
Dean Ambrose: Rated R… Apparently.
Homeless man: I’m listenin’!
Dean Ambrose: Not your cup of coffee I’m sure. He’s old news… Which is a shame. I really like the guy. Hell, 7 years ago I wanted to be the guy. Now it feels like I’m taking the dog out the back and shooting him. And the dogs still got legs, y’know?
Homeless man: See. Nothin’ wrong with gettin’ deep laddy.
Dean shot the man a frown.
Dean Ambrose: I’m just saying. Kinda sucks. You idolise a guy for so long and then you step into the ring with him and you wonder if he even cares that he’s in there with you. These are the moments you dream of when you’re coming up.
It was the homeless man’s turn to frown.
Homeless man: Don’t talk to me about disappointment, sonny. Yer’ll lose that one.
Dean smiled this time. He put his hand in his pocket, rustled around, and pulled out a key.
Dean Ambrose: I don’t doubt that you know where I live, since you seem to know everything. I’m on the road for the next week. Go keep warm, eat and DON’T INVITE ANY FRIENDS ROUND. I got cable installed this week so you can pass the time with your favourite hobby - watching me.
The homeless man snorted.
Homeless man: You’re no Dusty, sonny boy. Not yet.
---
“Hey Hey, My My” by Neil Young and Crazy Horse hit the PA as Dean Ambrose emerged from the back to a loud ovation. He walk to one side of the stage, taking in the crowd. Fresh from an interview backstage alongside his brother Seth Rollins, he felt much more invigorated than when he was in Vegas. After taking in more of the ovation he made his way down the ramp and slid into the ring. He stood in the middle, looked up to the sky, smiled, and then went to the corner. He took a microphone and waited for the crowd noise to die down.
Dean Ambrose: Well I’m not one for suckin’ up but this feels good.
The crowd cheered once again.
Dean Ambrose: Yeah I needed that. I may not need therapy but a little bit of crowd adulation goes a long way to making it a good day, y’know? But as awesome as all of this is… I don’t think I’m fully deserving of any ovation tonight. I feel like I’m one of the few good guys around here… But tonight, I feel like a bit of a bad guy. Now I know I’m not your typical hero. These clothes aren’t colourful, my haircut cost $5 and I don’t take life all too seriously. Tonight, however, I’m taking things a little more seriously. You see, you’re cheering me now, but I think a lot of you will also be cheering when you hear those heavy Scott Phillips. And you have every right to cheer. Edge…
Dean took a pause to allow the crowd to react, which they did positively.
Dean Ambrose: ...yep. One of wrestling’s true success stories. Not your average star… Not jacked like Hogan. Not ravishing like Rude. Not a giant like Andre. Not mysterious like the Undertaker. Not a pure athlete like Backlund or Angle. He’s none of those things, and do you know why? Because he’s not a Hogan. He’s not a Rick Rude. He’s not a Kurt Angle. He’s an Edge. The prototype of the guy who’s just not bred to be a star… but the guy who makes himself a star. I’m hoping it sounds familiar to you, and not just through Edge. Does it?
There was some cheering from the crowd, but other didn’t seem to understand.
Dean Ambrose: Hmm. I’ll take that. Well, what I’m saying is that I feel I can relate to Edge. I feel I am in a similar mould to him. And I know that sounds like me tickling my ego but hey, I’m not gonna lie to ya. Edge was my hero once upon a time. Hell, he should be everybody’s hero. The guy got to the top by being himself. A true lover of the industry that I now hold so dear, headlining events across the globe. That’s the dream, right? But you might have missed what I said… He WAS my hero. Once upon a time. Tonight, you get to see a conflicted Dean Ambrose undergoing a very sobering experience. Sure, I’m having the time of my life here in the EBWF. Life is awesome and my job is awesome. But as soon as my music hit tonight, I’ve felt in full business mode for the first time since I took on Crowe at the beginning of the year. Tonight, you see Dean Ambrose take on a man he once idolised. A man he went to lengths to emulate… I put my body on the line night after night whilst loving every minute of it and being myself 100% of the way. I didn’t live by anyone else’s expectations - only my own, and I didn’t let any setback stop me from getting to the top of the mountain.. No matter how long it took. That’s what Adam Copeland did. He defied gigantic odds, rising to prominence whilst side by side on the posters and magazines with Triple H, Stone Cold Steve Austin, The Rock, Shawn Michaels, John Cena, Randy Orton… Icons, stars and legends. Should he have gotten to the top with such company? Many would say no, but I say hell yes. Because no matter what - heart, passion and love for this business prevails over all. Love for this business…
Dean leant forward on the ropes, and seemed to be deep in thought.
Dean Ambrose: ...That love isn’t there anymore, is it Adam? That fire; that passion; that desire to be the man… It’s not been there for a while, has it? Finally, I’m in my prime and I’m coming up against you and, well, it’s just not gonna be how I dreamt it, is it? I feel like instead of two eras colliding - which this should be - it’s the younger guy taking the veteran out to pasture. In my mind and my heart - and maybe I’m just being a dreamer - this should be the Hogan vs Bret Hart match that didn’t happen in ‘93. And yet again, I sound big headed, but Hogan was the icon and Bret was the future. You are an icon, and I sure as hell am the future. But instead, we fight on Warfare. Your heart… maybe not in it at all. Perhaps just a throwaway King of the Ring second round match, drowned out by the others. A quick match where the kid knocks down the old timer and moves on.
Dean stood on the ropes and shouted straight into the camera.
Dean Ambrose: THAT’S NOT WHAT I WANT! AND THAT’S NOT WHAT YOU’RE GONNA GIVE ME.
The crowd cheered. Dean bounced back off the ropes and began pacing around the ring.
Dean Ambrose: Your mind can be wherever the hell it wants to be when you’re walking around backstage tonight, Edge. If your thoughts are with the flight home after Warfare - I couldn’t care less. When your music hits, and you come out onto that stage and these people cheer you like they SHOULD - you’re gonna look down the ramp and see me. Your opponent - sure. But not just that… Maybe the last real believer in Adam Copeland. And when you step through these ropes, and you come face to face with me, I’m not gonna let you take it lightly. You’re going to look into my eyes and see that I’m making this the fight of your life. And when you feel that passion, that fire and that drive between these ropes pulsing out through my blood and veins - you’ll remember just who you used to be. And I’ll make sure that happens. I’ll make sure I get the match I’ve been waiting for. Tonight isn’t just a King of the Ring tournament match. Thoughts of the crown can wait. Tonight is Dean Ambrose and Edge, one-on-one - and it will be everything that match-up has always promised to be. A collision between two SUPERSTARS that just weren’t meant to be. And no matter who wins tonight, Adam… I promise you, and each and every person in this arena, that both Dean Ambrose AND Edge are names that will make people hungry for more every time they step through those curtains. Names that will live on forever with Hogan, Michaels, Andre, Austin… And mark my words - your mind will be in this game. And it won’t be going anywhere after tonight.
Dean slammed the mic down and his music hit. He paced around the ring for a few seconds, apparently in a world of his own, before quickly exiting the ring and storming towards the back.
