Rest in pieces, TJ

by Tim Patrick December 3rd 2010, 10:27 pm

Moscow, Russia
Tim Patrick's hotel bedroom
December 2, 2010
11:00 PM

The room is dark for the most part. The only light is coming from a flickering cheap Television set in the corner of the room. Tim Patrick is laying on top of his bed, the camera's setting is in black and white and it zooms into his face.

Tim Patrick: I first saw wrestling in 1992, as a small child. It was Saturday Night's Main Event, The Ultimate Maniacs took on Money INC, Shawn Michaels faced the British Bulldog, and Bret Hart defended his newly-won World Championship against Papa Shango. I was hooked. A few months later, my older brother took me to the now demolished Philadelphia Spectrum to see the World Wrestling Federation live. It was the most amazing thing I ever saw at that point in my life. As years went by, I saw more wrestling shows with my brother and then my father. We went to SummerSlam 1997, WrestleMania 15, and I told my father that one day, I'd be on Pay-Per-View too. I didn't get along with my father much as a kid, because he was a big defender of my drunken mother. Even though my life was being ruined by her, he stood there and watched as if I could just brush it off. Watching Pro Wrestling was the only time we were able to sit next to each other and smile. When I told him that one day I'd make it to PPV, he didn't believe me. "You should focus on school. Maybe you should try and do something else, something that normal people do..."

Time went by and because of all my personal problems, my brother quit talking to me. My father grew embarrassed of me, even going so far as to call me a bum. And my mother slowly lost her mind but stayed home with Dad, because he had no money to give her treatment. I went on to train and fight in small wrestling promotions. Most of them weren't legal. Then when that wasn't doing it for me anymore, I went to Ireland. I went to Ireland to fight, and sometimes, to kill. There is blood on my hands. It's the blood of injustice, the blood of bullies. It's the blood of the kind of people who would jump you from behind to make a name for themselves. It's the kind of people who remind me of TJ Tilli.

There are a few things that describe me, TJ. A loner. A fighter. A murderer. A gentleman. A rebel. A Hardcore maniac. But here's a word that doesn't describe me at all, but describes you perfectly - a coward. Only somebody who has no chance at going toe-to-toe with somebody and winning a fight and jumps somebody from behind. What you did at the last Global Takeover was the act of a coward.

Men like you aren't worth a damn, TJ. You were only good when you had people backing you up. When you had people to protect and save you. There's nobody to save you now, TJ. You lost all remaining friends in this promotion when you said you didn't give a shit about Fight the World Wrestling. Well, I do! I had the opportunity to go elsewhere to start a new life for myself, I decided to come here. I'm not the biggest guy here, I'm not the most experienced in the ring, and I'm not the best fighter here - yet - but I show up and do my job. When I tell FTW Management that I'll be somewhere and I'll give it my all, that's exactly what I do. They have enough faith in me to put me in a Hardcore Hell match after only two fights so far.

I'm going to make an example out of you, TJ. I ordered the PPV for everybody I went to high-school with, for every bully, every neighborhood kid who harassed me. I ordered it for every one of the friends who left my side because of my personal demons. I ordered it for every fucking family member I had who would ignore me and look at me awkwardly because I wasn't doing so well. For every teacher who told me I wasn't smart enough, wasn't good enough, wasn't like the other kids. For every girl who rolled their eyes at me because of my bad teeth, my acne growing up, because I was shy and lacking in social skills. For every cop who tried to arrest me for weed. For everybody who ever make me feel worthless. What I'm going to do to TJ Tilli is a message for all of you. You only make me stronger. You only make me crazier. You made me this way!

I'm not just going to beat TJ Tilli, I fully plan on ending his life this Friday night. Gunther awoke a sleeping bear by beating me, and TJ basically poked it with a stick by jumping me from behind. Think about the message that sends to bullies around the world. You can only do it for so long, before somebody crushes you. You should have known not to fuck with an angry Irish-American with an agenda, because you'll never beat the Irish.

Rest in pieces, TJ.

~~The Scene Ends~~