I understand what you're going through, Cory.

You're stuck in the past.

You're stuck in your glory days.

I was once like you. I was stuck in my glory days. I was stuck in the past. I was stuck in life.

But then I moved on. Then I found something that you've yet to find.

A psychiatrist.

So, this week I'm in a match with James Brogan.

'The Devilish Irishman'.

Comical, Brian. Really.

Putting two Irishmen in a wrestling match against each other.

Planning on getting an Irish brawl, perhaps? Trying to get ratings boost?

What other reasons do you have for this match?

He and I wrestle nothing alike. You know that.

He's a high-flyer... I'm power.

He's hiding his pot of gold, while I'm at the top of a beanstalk, waiting for someone like him to get to the top so I can make bread out of his bones.

James, man... I have no problem with you. I kind of like you, even.

And I'm sure you've heard this before, but I need to say it again.

Just because I like you, doesn't mean I'm going to take it soft on you.

Just because I like you, doesn't mean I'm going to let you walk out of that ring under your own power.

I come to the TIW by way of the Iowa Institute for the Criminal Insane. Not because I wanted to. Not because I chose to.

But because the government put me there. And when I got out, the first thing I did was seek a way back into wrestling glory.

A way to start over. To find my passion again.

Most of you wont like me. I know some of you already don't.

Virus, I don't know what you ate for breakfast, but I'm better than you.

And Cory, well... if I were to show you some of my former matches, some of my former promotions, you'd hang your head in disgust, cower in fear.

People here talk shit.

Far too much shit than what's good for them.

Brogan, I hope you don't follow their examples. Like I said, I like you.

Like a brother.

An Irish brother.

So, Brian wants us to give him a show.

Wants us to put on a show for the fans. For the money makers.

How about it, James? Huh, Jimmy? J? Lets do it.

And we'll talk about who came out on top, when we know.

Lets drop the shit talking. Lets drop the 'I'm better than you' bullshit, and just.. wrestle.

I mean, what's the point. What have you got on me? Nothing.

What have I got on you?

I don't know about you, but I could really go for a pint of Guinness right now.

And after the match, I'll buy you a round.

Because that's what a brother does. He looks out for his kin.

Just like I'll be there for you.

And I hope you'd be there for me.