Mitch McClure is looking out for fucking Mitch McClure.

by Pure Mcclure January 26th 2013, 3:21 pm

-----FLASHBACK------

It’s the morning of PRIDE. A few people have arrived at the arena already, it seems like the first Wrestler in the locker room though is Mitch McClure. He has taped one wrist and is reaching into his bag as his phone begins to ring. He picks it up to notice the display shows that it is his father calling...

Pure McClure: “G’day Dad, how are you?”

Dad McClure: “Good mate, I’m good, how are you? All set for the pay per view?”

Pure McClure: “Yeah. Definitely. I’m good to go, I’ve got my two out of three falls match with some hack and then I’ve been thrown in to the tag tourney with the Hardcore Psychopath. Could be a long night, but I expect to make the finals and take the whole thing out”

Dad McClure: “Oh great. Well I know you have the skill set mate, just look after yourself, ya’know... I’ve been watching a lot of tapes, you get that from me you know, your thirst for knowledge, watching tapes and all that, but anyway, like I was saying, the tapes, that Psycho guy you’re teaming with, remember to keep one eye on him too. A team that is thrown together, very rarely works together”

Pure McClure: “I know Dad....”

Dad McClure: “No you don’t know mate. You’re twenty three. I’ve been wrestling thirty years, been around the block so to speak. That Psycho guy has his own agenda, he doesn’t give a shit about you, or the belts. He cares about one thing. Psycho, so watch your fucking back, alright?”

Pure McClure: “We’ve had a good week. We’re prepared and ready, I really expect we’ll kick some arse out there – I respect your thoughts, but I think I can judge a blokes character and this guy seems like he is on the level, I think we have the same common goal”

Dad McClure: “You THINK you have the common goal, see. You think. You don’t know, because tag team wrestling is a whole other beast you haven’t fucked with yet. One on One, I’m pretty confident over there you could take on most blokes – but just watch your back, that’s all I’m saying. Now go get ready, I’ll be watching, good luck!”

Pure McClure: “Thanks Dad, I hear what you’re saying. I’ll keep an eye on everyone”

Dad McClure: “Oh and by the way, I’m coming over for Tournament to the Title – your mother can’t get time off work, but I’ll be there. Hope you get a spot in that tournament, that’s where you belong, becoming your own man, in singles competition”

Pure McClure: “Great news – I’ll see you in a couple of days then, stay safe...”

-----END FLASHBACK------

-----3 DAYS AFTER PRIDE------

The current day scene opens up. The third morning after PRIDE. It’s McClure’s hotel room in Philadelphia. Today, the room isn’t looking the perfect picture that it had been throughout the week. There is DVD discs all over the ground and on the desk surrounding the television. At the moment on the screen are the final moments of the PRIDE tournament as McClure is pinned.

Mitch McClure is now seen in the room, wearing long pants but no top, he rewinds the tape as Psycho hits Livid Atrocity. He looks down at his chest where it is battered and bruised. You can almost see the knee marks from the four fifty splash that ended it all. A frozen bag of vegetables is taped to a spot on his lower back, there is a knock on the door and a voice from the other side...

????????????: “I told you to watch your fucking back at PRIDE, now come and open the door”

McClure laughs a little, but reaches his hand on to his lower back in pain as he gets up and lets his father in to the room.

Dad McClure: “I fucking told you, didn’t I, and look at your hotel room you slob. Get your shit together, we’re going on a road trip. We have A LOT of talking to do...”

Pure McClure: “I don’t need your lecture, Dad, I fucked up, alright. You’re right, I’m wrong, You’re tough, I’m weak, I know the fucking story - you've tried this shit before”

Dad McClure: “That’s not how it is anymore mate. I used to say that as you broke in to the business to harden you up. Give you a thick skin, prepare you for all this... I’m not here to Lecture you, I’m here to mentor you and take you to the top mate, because I seen at PRIDE that you’ve got some of IT, I can give you the rest”

Pure McClure: “But what about you, don’t you have any matches back home?”

Dad McClure: “Mitch... Mate, I’m forty eight years old. I’ve got enough money, I told them I was going to the states for a few months and to deal with it. I’ve already applied with the NLWF last night on becoming an official manager – I’m here to take you to the next level”

Pure McClure: “and Mum...?”

Dad McClure: “She’ll be here in a few weeks too, we’ll holiday around a bit as you wrestle. If things work out, we might stay, we will go home in March anyway, with the pay per view being held in Sydney."

Pure McClure: “Shit, OK. That’s unexpected, but I appreciate it. This will be awesome”

Dad McClure: “Alright, so grab your bag, right now. It’s a five hour drive to Boston and we’re leaving in ten minutes. Also, turn that shit off, I’ve watched the tape a few times, I will tell you a few things in the car – like if you get a fucking opportunity to take out somebody, do it, don’t miss any opportunity. You’ve got to be ruthless these days, trust nobody”

The scene cuts from Mitch throwing handfuls of clothes in his bag down to the parking garage, where McClures dad sits in a Camaro, one arm on the door, and one on the steering wheel. Mitch throws his gear in the back, walks around to the far side. He sits down, looks across at his father and sticks out his hand. They shake hands as they hit the road...

Dad McClure: “I know you’ve never liked the way I do things in the ring, but the reason I go down that Hardcore road, is because I don’t have the skills you have, technically. You’re a student of the game, and this place doesn’t cater to people who want to do the right thing. You’ve got to get some anger inside you – don’t be the nice bloke out there who is in the ring to compete, be the guy who’s going to run through all these punks and bury them”

Pure McClure: “Oh, I’m not finding it hard to get motivation for that old man. I’m sick of the bullshit here, this place is NOTHING like you’ve seen before. The factions, the cliques, the bosses and then there is me. I’m the lone wolf in this joint, but I’m starting to like the tag, I’m going to make it work”

The scene fades out as they continue talking. Mitch’s Dad is laying down the law in the car.

-----END SCENE-----

-----SHOOT-----

Pure McClure: “Well fucking well. You did it Psycho, pulled one over on Mitch mate. Do you feel fucking tough? Fuck I’m sick of this place already. I come here, with a clean sheet, a clean mind and plan on showing the world how to WRESTLE, because that’s what I do, and it’s what I do best. I come out on night one, enter the companies biggest battle royal ever and I’m there at the business end only to be teamed up on in a match billed as every man for himself. Fucking screwed at every turn.

That night, I was surprised; now, nothing surprises me in this fucking place. Corpse hands, a dead mothers skull, kidnappings, two of them for fuck sake. What is this shit? You couldn’t write this shit, you people are crazy. I’m not talking that little bit crazy, you’re wild bat shit crazy. It’s psych ward stuff, you need help.

Hey, and now I’m entered in another tournament. You know, PRIDE didn’t exactly work out how I wanted it, but now I get another shot. Actually before I speak to much about my night at PRIDE, let’s talk about having another shot. In round one, I’m facing Brenton Cyrus, the immortal, but hey, If I lose, I could just be like James Betterman and try and enter again, how many times does a bloke have to be beaten to get the fucking idea around here. He’s had more chances than Lindsay Lohan but just like her, he keeps fucking up. But wait, he’s in the fucking tournament too. Argh!

Is that the kind of standard this place is setting? A guy who can’t muster a win out of his last five matches is quality enough to be in a tournament to the title? I won four falls at PRIDE, three on that piece of shit Jimbo who I banished from this place ... you can thank me later by the way ... and another in the tag tournament. Hell, it would have been five, and tag team titles but no, there’s always some bullshit twist in this place and it’s starting to become routine. So now, it’s Mitch Mclure looking out for fucking Mitch McClure.

I thought PRIDE was my shot. You know, show everybody what Mitch McClure could do, and I did, but I didn’t finish the job. Now, I look to Tournament to the title, and I see real opportunity. This is all me. Whilst some people have been partying since PRIDE, I’ve been watching tapes. Psycho is in the back of a van, I’ve been in the gym. Betterman is worried about Melons, I’m getting my head in the game.

Brenton Cyrus, remember that old gem. To be the man, you’ve got to beat the man. When I arrived here, I picked you from a distance, I said to myself, that guy, Cyrus, he’s the man, and one day, I’m going to beat him to become the man. Could have happened at Ultimate Glory, but no, O'Shea stuck his nose in. Then, at PRIDE, Psycho and I did it, and I had the chance afterwards to beat you down, but didn’t, because unlike my Father and just about every other fucking lunatic in this place, I don’t need to beat you like that. I’m keen to get in the ring, one on one, like I originally planned all the way back at Ultimate Glory and I’m going to make my statement. No interference BC, No bullshit, No O'Shea, let’s just do this. I feel like my first month in the US has lead to the moment where we throw down, and I couldn’t be more keen.

But I have to ask BC, where’s your head at? You’re stuck battling inside your own head. Are you with Alison or not, huh? How’s your daughter doing? Is it over with Stylez... It’s never over. You’re battling a fight within your head, when you’ll be staring down the barrel of a war with me in just a handful of days. Do yourself a favour, get out of the strip joints, stop looking at the phone, Ali isn’t going to call. Focus your attention on me Cyrus, because after the tournament I don’t want anyone thinking I won for any... ANY reason other than I’m better than you. Pure and Simple.

Let’s move on though, Round two, well who the fuck knows who I’ll be facing. The brackets in this place for tournaments are as interchangeable as an ice hockey team. Someone who loses in round one could be facing me round two, someone from the other side of the draw could be facing me and I know how it works here now. I get it. So I’m prepared for all comers. I'll take all of you on, I don't care.

Psycho, if it is you... and every single fibre of me hopes it is. We’re going to tear the place down and I’m going to tear you down. Limb from limb, You’ve seen me do it to others mate, and don’t forget, I’ve taken the opportunity to pin you once before in the NLWF. You must of had a fucked up life, dead parents, you’ve been kidnapped before, you’ve been shot before which is no surprise now when I see your bullshit antics. See, it’s funny to me, that for the time I’ve been here all I see is Psycho running amok and beating the shit out of people.

Pinfalls and submissions aren’t exactly your thing though are they, but you’re so fucking messed in the head, that when I take the initiative to tag you, and finish the fucking job you stop me. I got greedy? No, I was smart, I play smart. I play with the head, planning every moment before it happens, but you Psycho, you play with passion and ninety percent of the time, that will be enough, but you fucked your own opportunity to take the titles mate. You'll face me with rage, yet I'll be calm. I will prevail. Yeah, so fucking what, let's say you GAVE the win to Robbie and Hostyle, because let’s face it. Winning isn’t your thing is it Psycho...

But you do get close. Don’t you.

You were close in the Freedom Title match... Close.

You were close in the Ultimate Glory Battle Royal... Close.

You were close in the PRIDE Tag Tourney Psycho... Close.

But you just NEVER get the fucking job done. Do you? All that effort and you might as well be hitting the showers with James Betterman after Round One. On Betterman, Everybody in the NLWF knows you’ll make a fool of James, you and I talked about him, we know his deal. He’s so unstable at the moment he might not even show. Please meet me in round two. Let’s not dodge one another on the brackets.

Like I say to Cyrus. No bullshit. No Interference. Man on man. We'll see how CLOSE you get against me.

I’ve watched the tapes. I’ve studied the form. I know the deal. At Tournament to the Title, I know what has to be done – For the next few days, I will spend less time on the other muppets in this match, and focus on me. The Mitch McClure you see at the Pay Per View won’t be the Mitch McClure you seen in the last month. I’m more focused, more hungry, and ready to rule this land of no limits and teach you pieces of shit what it’s like to be great.

I’m the next champ.

Pure and simple.