HWA Message Board: A Champion’s Mindset

Pasadena, California

The scene opens out into the home of “The Sky Assassin” Sean Parker. The home gym he’d built for himself, even with the modest income from his HWA paycheck, wasn’t a patch on his uncle’s but it suited him just fine. It was his own personal fortress of solitude. He found himself sitting on the concrete steps just behind the door that leads back to the main body of the apartment. His hands are clasped together, his jaw resting on them as his elbows sit planted atop of his thighs. Despite the upcoming World Championship match at Road to Ruin and the wind-up attempts from one of his opponents, Sean finds himself in a contemplative mood.

(Sean): You know, Price, the thing about fishing is, sometimes the fish that ends up biting is bigger than you anticipated. You can tell from the bend in the rod, the scream of the reel, the tension in the line.

Sometimes you just have to accept you’re not always capable of coping with what takes the bait.

Sometimes you just need to know when to call it a day.

That’s what’s happened here, Price. You’re stuck in this perpetual bubble where you think that every time you open your mouth and that fall, hook, line and sinker for whatever witless bullshit spews out of your mouth. But nothing could be further from the truth though.

See, you’re so caught up in your own game of one-upmanship, you don’t even realise that you’re the only one still playing, desperately trying to pointscore.

You keep casting these weak little jabs, thinking I’m the one dancing on the line, but the truth is, every time you try to reel me in, you’re the one scrambling, trying to keep up, mistaking my responses for some kind of victory.

But here’s a reality check for you, Stuart. I’ve already let you burn out your line. You’ve got nothing left but empty threats and recycled insults. So maybe it’s time to drop the rod and walk away.

And let’s be clear on one thing, you’re many things. Talented?

Sean screws his face as if he grudgingly accepts at least that point.

(Sean): Yeah, I’ll give you that. A good dad? No question, Laney is lucky to have you. But my champion?

A snort of derision shoots out of Sean’s nostrils.

(Sean): You can barely call yourself a champion, let alone one that has the clout to call himself someone else’s. And when I stare down at the HWA World Championship belt and see my own reflection smiling back at me, I’ll already be safe in the knowledge that I already have what it takes to lead this company, to be the standard bearer, because I’ve been doing it since day-dot.

I may not have had twelve pounds of gold to wear around my waist but I know damn sure what it takes to be a champion, Price, because I was raised by a guy who didn’t stand on the shoulders of giants; he was thee giant. He was the glue that held everything together, the one I watched from my living room floor do things no man had the right to be able to do. I watched him ignore doctors’ orders and wrestle with staph infections, brain tumours, broken bones, literally putting his life on the line for this business.

I learned from him that that’s what it was going to take to be a champion in this business. He wrestled with that mindset not because he was told it was his contractual obligation, but because that’s just who the f**k he was. I learned, even as a little kid, that if I was going to model myself after anyone, it was going to be after a guy who embodied everything HWA was and is today. And that guy sure as shit isn’t you, Stuart.

That guy is Butch f***king Parker. I may apply myself with the teachings of my Sensei but it’s Butch’s words, his work ethic, his mindset that I still live by and by God, I’ll die by it. And I still think of the mantra he used to preach about what it means to be a champion.

An involuntarily, reminiscing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

(Sean): He’d say, “Sean, every so often you meet a person who is very different. They radiate a mysterious strength, power, and charisma that are seldom seen anywhere in the business of professional wrestling. A generational talent is the term that gets associated with them.”

Sean wanders back and forth, a slow vigil, hands behind his back.

(Sean): He’d say, “You may not be able to put your finger on exactly what it is that is that makes this person stand out, such is the myriad of skills and attributes they showcase. But you know something special is definitely there; they are a champion. They may have gold around their waist; they may not. But leather straps and gold plates don’t make a champion. So, what does it take to be a champion? What separates them from the challengers that are stuck in the massive awe of their wake? What sets them on the pedestal so high above the rest?”

Sean stops and turns his head.

(Sean): Uncle Butch called it a “Champion’s Mindset”. He said, “Sean, champions are positive thinkers; they believe in themselves”. And you can’t bet your arse nine ways to Sunday that I believe in myself.

Sean felt like he was on a roll now. He turned his full body this time, facing the camera front on, lifting his arm, the index finger of his left hand extended, emphasizing his point.

(Sean): A champion possesses an unwavering belief that they will succeed. Champions always look for the good in every situation. No matter what obstacles they encounter, they always continue to think positively. Without confidence, faith in your abilities and positive mental attitude, you've defeated yourself before you even step through the ropes and enter the squared circle….

… Champions visualize their successes. Champions visualize exactly how their matches are going to happen, what moves they are going to use and what to expect from an opponent and they will mentally rehearse each scenario in vivid detail. They do this over and over in their minds hundreds or even thousands of times before it becomes a complete physical reality on the night and they walk out of the ring, the victor…

…Champions have a burning desire to succeed…Champions not only have goals, but they ardently desire them. Very few people know how to desire with sufficient intensity. They do not know what it is to feel and manifest that intense, eager, longing, craving, insistent, demanding, ravenous desire which is akin to the persistent, insistent, ardent and overwhelming desire of the drowning man for breath of air, or desert-lost man for a drink of water or the famished man for bread and meat. Champions have burning desire. They want it and they want it badly. I’m that man, Price.

Champions are disciplined, persistent and consistent. They live and breathe the lifestyle around them every day of their lives. They are committed and disciplined in training, preparation, leadership and their ability to maintain a dominance that makes them who they are. They know that in this business, there is no off-season and success does not come overnight. Champions never miss a beat, never miscalculate and never misjudge an adversary. They are the envy, lust, hate, love of every person working around them. The most dedicated athlete in the sport; the person everyone else aspires to be. They never, ever quit.

I spent years of my adolescence chasing an impossible dream of just being able to take a piss myself whilst I watched others wrestle and compete for championships I knew I was destined to hold. I sat in a wheelchair for two years watching the world pass me by, I watched my father’s grave desecrated on live television. I suffered! But I persisted! Champions approach their vocation with the same diligence. They know that if they persist long enough, they will succeed.

The contemplative mood Sean had found himself only minutes earlier was gone.
It was pure raw emotion bubbling to the surface now as Sean recalled the words Butch had repeated to him countless times as a kid. A mantra he drilled into him so much he could recite it like a prayer. That arrow Sean pulled from his emotionally-scarred quiver wasn’t one he drew easily but it was necessary. He takes a big breath through his nose and exhales deeply before he continues.

(Sean): He said “Sean, champions learn from their failures. Champions don't view losses as failures; they see them as learnings. When Thomas Edison was asked how it felt to fail 10,000 times after finally finding a filament that would burn in the electric bulb, he replied "I didn't fail; I learned 9,999 ways that wouldn't work". Champions know that they haven't failed until they quit; but once they quit, then they have failed. A champion finds a lesson in every apparent loss and finds a way to grow from it…. they are never satisfied with the status quo; never resting on their laurels. Champions aim for improvements every day in every way. They are open-minded and are always looking to improve on perfection.

And all that positive thinking, goal setting, desire, persistence, passion and enthusiasm…without action and hard work, they are all worthless. Champions are the hardest workers in the room, they are grafters who will fight through the pain, the blood, sweat and tears. They take action; they are willing to do things the losers will not. Champions themselves will go to the gym when they don't feel like going. Champions stay on the treadmill another fifteen minutes even though they're exhausted. Champions do five extra reps when the losers have already stopped. Champions are steadfast and have the willingness to fight through the pain barrier while the failures quit at the first sign of blood.”

Sean stops momentarily. Every time he repeated those words, whether it was in his head or out loud, he always felt like he could eat nails and take on the world head-on, a second generation One Man Tartan Army.

(Sean): My uncle told me to think about every one of these traits. He then told me to think about if I really believed I was a champion or if I was just in love with the idea of it.

Sean walks over to the corner of the gym, where a dusty, rusty wheelchair sat, covered in cobwebs. The colour from the leather exterior had faded in time. He rests his hand on the back of it.

(Sean): And that’s never left me because, once upon a time, I sat in this wheelchair, completely disassociated from the concept of being alive, let alone being a champion, in love with the notion I could be something better, hoping. But I changed my mindset. I had to. I had to convince myself there was no way I wasn’t going to overcome what stood in my way of living a normal life let alone the one I live now. I stopped hoping and started believing. Believing that this wheelchair wasn’t going to define who I was going to be for the rest of my life, it was going to be my motivation, that I wasn’t going to be sitting in this a minute longer than I had to. I didn’t hope. Hope is dangerous. I’d been let down by hope too many times in the past.

…And now, I have to have this mindset in the ring, believing that there is no scenario where I don’t win. In my mind, no one else has a shot… what I’m bringing to this match, it’s far beyond anything hope could instill. It’s conviction. As far as I'm concerned, there's only one man in this match that has the mindset, the self-belief and the conviction to go all the way…and you're listening to him.

But you? You go on about “bringing eyes to the company,” as if that means a damn thing without the backbone to back it up. You think showing up on talk shows, posing for cameras, and rattling off charity buzzwords is what makes a champion but here’s another reality check, Price. This isn't 1980s WWF. This is HWA, where the mark of a champion is discerned from the sweat on a man’s brow and the scars he leaves on the industry. And I intend to leave a mark on it that will be spoken about for generations.

Meanwhile, when it’s all said and done, you’ll have barely left a scratch on it.

The scene fades to black.