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Stephen Waltz vs Eric Gibson


Jan 1, 2000
Psychological Training



(To Stephen, they meant a world of everything, even if the effort was close to nothing. February had been an idle month; no calls or updates for GXW. For a while, they were beginning to believe that the company had dropped both talent and manager. But Terry was too stubborn to believe that. Stephen, too, didn't think being released was the case. Incidentally, the young rookie continued his vigorous training under Terry's guidance.)

(That's was he was doing at this moment. Thirty squats, and Terry wouldn't settle for anything below seventy. Stephen wasn't even close to breaking a sweat. This was the daily routine. Calusthenics, refining in-ring skill, pumping iron, and waiting ever so patiently for a letter, or fax, or e-mail... anything to reassure them that they were still in the game, and the system had just been working slow through the past month. Terry watching him in odd silence... something unusual for the pompous and charismatic manager and wrestling veteran. Though he openly denied the possibility of being let go, after two solid victories on Onslaught, Stephen could see in his eyes that he was getting worried.)

(Nothing to do but squats, and jack squat.)

(The phone rang.)

Anderson: Damn... probably Nathan again. You keep it up...

(That Stephen did, rising from number thirty-three as Terry arose from his chair and went into the office adjoined to the gym, where the phone hit its second ring on his desk.)

(Terry picked up the receiver...)

Anderson: Hello?

(Got a response.)

Anderson: Oh, hey! Damn, we've been wondering where the hell you've guys been!

(He flailed to catch Stephen's attention from the window looking into the gym, but the young man was focused on his up-and-down work-out. As the man on the other end made an explanation that Terry hardly caught, he desperately grabbed a clipboard and threw it against the glass. The attentive ears of young Waltz immediately picked up on the sound, and with reflexes of a jack-rabbit, snapped his head in the direction of the office, where Terry was waving him to come inside.)

(Only made it to fifty... but Terry looked liked he needed him to be in there. Then there was hope, that GXW might have been on the other end of that wire.)

(Terry saw him coming, and went back to conversation.)

Anderson: Okay... so, how about this week?

(The man on the other end began his answer, and Terry grabbed a notepad and pencil to write down the essential information. Time, place, where to check in, opponent...)

Anderson: Oh, Bill, hold on a second.

(He stopped when Stephen ran into the room and eyed his student up and down.)

Anderson: How far did you get?

Waltz: Fifty, Terry.

Anderson: Goddamnit, is that all? You better do twenty right now before I bust your ass!

(It was an idle threat, but Stephen went back to squatting there in the middle of Terry's office. In the gym, it was serious business... but here, he looked like he was performing a chicken dance. Anderson turned toward his desk and told the man on the other end to go on. A few more important details, and he was finished.)

Anderson: Gotcha... thanks, Bill. I'll get started on whipping his ass into shape!

(As if he hadn't had his ass whipped every boring day of February.)

(With that he hung up and turned to his student with a smile. Waltz finally hit seventy, and started talking.)

Waltz: So, was that them?

Anderson: Yep. You're booked for another Onslaught!

Waltz: Hey, that's good news. Did he say anything about why we didn't hear anything over February?

Anderson: Uhh... I think I missed that part. But who cares... not important now, is it? Grab that chair...

(In a fluid motion, Stephen picked up the steel chair from behind the open office door, opened in, and took a seat as he set the legs on the floor. Terry seated himself in his rolling office chair, looking over the notes in front of him as he scratched his temple with the eraser of his pencil.)

Anderson: This week, Onslaught will take place at Barcelona, Spain... same place where they held the Barcelona '92 games, to be exact.

Waltz: Cool.

Anderson: I'll get the flight arrangements ready tonight... you're opponent's going to be Eric Gibson.

Waltz: Wow, really? Eric Gibson... the Legend?

Anderson: Hardly, Steph... just a guy who's been in the business for a little too long and has gained only little fame...

Waltz: What are you talking about? The man has a list of accomplishments about a mile long!

Anderson: Right, well... I'm glad you're happy. Meanwhile, I'm still a bit irked about this Onslaught midcard business...

Waltz: Oh, Terry... there's nothing to be disappointed about. So far, my entire career consists of two matches.

Anderson: But kid, you won both of those matches... you kicked ASS, to be exact! Jay Styles... geez, hardly any effort. Derrick Rodgers--

Waltz: Hey, I thought Rodgers put up a damn good fight. I wouldn't say it was 'kicking ass' as you so kindly put it... but it was a good match, and in the end, his luck ran out first.

Anderson: Fine, look at it any way you wish. The point is, you're on fire, kid. I don't like seeing you treated so poorly just because you're a rookie.

Waltz: We've got to do our time at some point, Terry...

Anderson: ...well, I guess you're right.

Waltz: Shouldn't we be doing some training?

Anderson: Eh, uh... Hell yeah! What the hell are you just standing around here doing nothing? Goddamnit, we've got a match on the way and you're just moping around with your thumb up your ass!

Waltz: Heh heh... okay, let's hit the ring.

(The two left the office. Terry would later book flight plans, and call a camera crew.)



(The scene begins on location at, of all places, Taco Bell. It's a mystery as to why any man of the caliber of a professional wrestler would choose such a local place among the middle-class, fast-food chomping American piggies, scarfing down a Taco while a prestigious GXW camera stands before him. Must be another "genius" idea courteousy of Terry "The Idol" Anderson, master of the infamous Idolizer and holder of the patented "I F*cked Gail Martin" T-shirt.)

(We open up on a shot of Anderson at a table in the restaraunt with his young student, Stephen Waltz, seated next to him. Before Terry is a tray of assorted Taco Bell products: six hard-shell tacos, two orders of nachos, a chalupa, and the new chicken quesadilla. Terry happily enjoys his meal as Stephen quietly keeps to himself with a polite smile on his face. The veteran is the first to address the camera.)

Anderson: Hoh hoh... welcome all, GXW, to another training seminar featuring yours truly, Terry 'The Idol' Anderson, and my young prodigy... upcoming GXW superstar, Stephen Waltz!

Waltz: 'Training seminar'? Terry, what has any of this to do with getting prepared for a match? Junk food is an athlete's diet, I should point out...

(Shocked, Terry swallows whatever is left in his mouth and slaps his student over the back, either by means of light punishment or to tell the younger man to wake up and smell the coffee.)

Anderson: Get with the program, young Stephen! This is PSYCHOLOGICAL training!!

(Stephen blinks several times, still a bit in the dark.)

Waltz: I don't follow you, Terry...

(Terry, very irked, rolls his eyes.)

Anderson: Come one, Steph... Onslaught will take place in Barcelona. Got that? Bar-seh-low-NAH! Barcelona HAPPENS to be the capitol of Spain!

(Looking away in thought, Stephen contemplates whether or not he should correct his manager by informing him that Madrid is the actual capitol. But he doesn't get a chance.)

Anderson: So here we are in America's favorite fast food restaraunt... Taco Bell! And as you can see, I have a variety of Spanish foods on my tray before me! We eat Spanish, we think Spanish... we get that into our heads, and when we hit Barcelona, we fit right in, you catch me? You'll be like El Matador in that ring, with Eric Gibson the unfortunate toro... we can't lose!

(Anderson goes back to his meal. Stephen looks a little nervous. Usually, he is more polite than correcting his trainer. He didn't want to appear superior in mind to a man he had high esteem and respect for. But this couldn't go on.)

Waltz: Uhh... Terry, Taco Bell has Mexican food.

Anderson: ...so? What's the difference?

Waltz: To tell you the truth, Spanish dishes are actually quite bland when compared to Mexican food, which relies on spices and peppers. Furthermore, I don't see how adapting to the city... by EATING FOOD, no less, would get us anywhere closer to victory as opposed to a good hour of pumping iron, taking bumps, exercise... stuff like that.

Anderson: Goddamnit, Steph, where the hell did you get so smart?!

Waltz: It's called college, Terry... and need I remind you I chose to hold it off to step into the ring and fulfill my dream.

Anderson: Yeah, whatever... listen kid, I spent TEN BUCKS on this meal, and I'm going to EAT IT... Spanish, Mexican, Brazillian--I DON'T CARE!! All speak the same language, and that's all that matters to me...

Waltz: The national language of Brazil is Portugese.

Anderson: Oh, would you shut up!

(Anderson stands very tense, red in the face... then bursts into a fit of laughter.)

Anderson: Hah hah!! Damn, kid, you've got wit! Takes balls, and I can tell you that it takes A LOT of that to get far in wrestling.

Waltz: Glad to hear that, Terry.

("The Idol" turns to the camera, putting his obviously wasted meal on hold.)

Anderson: Well... now that my esteemed student has proven that eating at Taco Bell WILL NOT help his performance in Barcelona... I think we should move on to other things. Maybe we'll start with Derrick Rodgers...

Waltz: Yes. Though he put up a valiant effort in the match we had back in February, it was I who got lucky in the end. But Derrick, don't let it get you down; you fought one damned fine match, and I'd be glad to step into the ring against you in the future. I'm certain you'll go far with your strength. I was quite impressed with your abilities, and glad that I was given such an equal, if not greater challenge.

(Anderson pats his student on the back.)

Anderson: But while he moves on to other matches... so do we. This week, my boy Stephen goes head to head with Eric Gibson... in what we hope will be his third straight victory, setting the young prodigy up for the first win streak of his career!

Waltz: 'Hope', Terry... but not certain of. I'm not going to say right out that I WILL win... but I have a really good feeling about this match, and I'll be a monkey's uncle if I don't put everything into putting on a good show for the paying audience.

(He delivers a confident nod. Anderson rolls his eyes at the "monkey's uncle" comment, secretly doubting himself about the entire "balls" thing.)

Waltz: I should say right now, Mr. Gibson... it's a GREAT honor to go up against you! I'm quite familiar with your previous accomplishments and contributions to the wrestling industry. You ARE... 'The Marauder' Eric Gibson. As a rookie, I can't do anything more than humble myself before you. I truly am not worthy against a man of your caliber. You excel beyond me in experience, durability, strength, speed, skill... practically everything, except maybe age.

(A bit of a smirk.)

Waltz: However, though I am a rookie and very inexperienced, I should advise you that I'm not to be taken lightly. I've been through two successful matches thus far, and though two wins is very little to give me much of a edge in 'bragging rights', I take pride in my few accomplishments. I hope to add more tallies on my roll through GXW. With that in mind, Gibson... be aware that though I acknowledge you as the better wrestler, I will fight tooth and nail for victory. Not in rage, or desperation... but in hard-edge determination and good sportsmanship.

(He looks to his manager for a moment, but Terry has gone back to his tacos.)

Waltz: So prepare yourself, Eric... cause Stephen Waltz is your next opponent! To you, I may be nothing... and I'm sure you've never heard my name. But if there's one thing I hope it's that you will remember me when the match is over. If you win, then it will be my goal to give you a great challenge and test your abilities. But if I win...

(He looks up, a delighted thought approaching him.)

Waltz: Heh... if I win, I'm sure you'll have plenty to remember me by. Rookie comes out of nowhere, catches a veteran by surprise... it'd be a sports page headline, should it be a match higher on the card. But I don't expect victory... and though I have strong faith in God and my own abilities, I'd say it's almost foolish to think you are definitely favored to win.

(He looks back into the camera, determined and positive as ever.)

Waltz: But it's my will against yours, Eric. You have to prepare for the match, like me... because it's very easy for veterans like you to forget entirely about the potential with new and upcoming professional wrestlers. Terry says he sees a lot of potential with me, and with my only two matches of my career ending in victory... I'm willing to believe him. I'm sure you won't make the mistake of having no regard for who you're up against... but that's my warning, Mr. Gibson.

(A final nod.)

Waltz: Good luck to you at Onslaught... we'll have a good match to put on for the fans in attendance, I'm sure. Once again, it's an honor to compete against you... and I trust you'll show the same respect for me.

Anderson (under his breath): If he cuts a damn promo...

(Stephen looks at his trainer with a speculative gaze.)

Waltz: You say something, Terry?

Anderson: Uhh, no! Not at all.

Waltz: Oh. Ready to go?

Anderson: What? TEN BUCKS, Steph... we ain't leaving until EVERYTHING on this tray is in my belly! Got it?

Waltz: Okay, Terry... you're the boss.

(Camera fades out as Terry Anderson munches down on another taco. Scene ends.)


Ryan - Ian, how do I get to the morgue?

Ian - Just drive away from the YMCA.

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