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Fade into a black and white still picture of Victor Molotov sitting up on the canvas next to a prone Karl Brown in the ring at Madison Square Garden.
JESS CHAPEL V/O: The Breakthrough. It happens without warning most of the time, but when it does, we go back and analyze the buildup and say "Yeah, it was there that I knew they were going to make it." It can take time though. Took Andre Agassi a few years before he could break through and become one of tennis' elite. Bill Cowher's Steelers had to wait a baker's dozen and enter the AFC playoffs as a six-seed before they could. Two years ago, we witnessed a breakthrough in this very tournament...
The still photo comes to life.
JC: I mean, these two men must have an infinite reserve of will to win. Molotov is up now and... good Lord! Shades of Mr. Hyde here with that Beastslayer!
ID: A bloody Regal Stretch!
JC: Molotov stretching the life out of Karl Brown. I mean, this man is a master of submissions, and slowly but surely, he's worn the Dragon down to the point where I wouldn't be surprised to see him tap with every passing second.
ID: Karl Brown will never tap! A Briton doesn't give up!
JC: Unless that Briton is you, right Dukey?
ID: Pipe down you bloody wanker! I'm rallying the troops!
JC: Well, the troops do need to be rallied for Karl, because he's being stretched. Still, he's close to the ropes. He just needs to get in the ropes.
ID: Bah, what's the use, Molotov will just keep the hold locked in until Pat Jones counts bloody five.
JC: That may be the case, but at least after those seconds, he'd be out of the hold without having to tap, and that's more than I can say for him now. But he's getting closer, closer...
ID: Almost there!
JC: And... he's there! He's in the ropes and... holy crap! Molotov with the clean, immediate break!
ID: I don't flipping believe it!
JC: Neither do I! The only explanation I can think of is that Karl doing it finally got to Molotov mentally. I'd call this a moral victory for Karl Brown, but right now, moral victories mean as much as being armed with a Bowie knife in a nuclear war.
[Molotov grabs Brown to his feet in a front waistlock.]
JC: Molotov looking for the belly to... NO! Karl with the headbutt! Breaks loose from the waistlock and now.... LARIATO!
[Crowd explodes.]
ID: My word!
JC: Brown to his feet and he's looking over to the corner with the approval of this crowd. I think you're going to have to bust out the Air Britannia call again, Dukey.
[Brown heads over to the ropes swiftly and climbs.]
ID: I don't know. He can't be going to the well too many times, but if he hits this move, the match could be over.
JC: But he has to hit it, I agree, and he's on the top. Leaps with the splash and... NO! Molotov moved! Molotov moved! Karl flips on his back and Molotov with the quick cover...
...one...
...two...
...Karl kicks out!
ID: I knew it, I told you, he shouldn't have gone.
[Molotov up and brings Brown to his feet.]
JC: Well Dukey, hindsight is twenty/twenty, but you can't win matches unless you take calculated risks. This one just didn't pay off, and now Molotov is in control. Double underhook and textbook butterfly suplex. Molotov back over with that Pavlov Pitbull tenacity and he sits Karl up into an abdominal stretch.
ID: If he wasn't seated, I'd think maybe he was segueing into the Molotov Cocktail.
JC: Well, maybe he is, I don't know, but for now, he's working the neck and abs with this hold.
ID: Either way, things do not look peachy for Karl.
JC: Well, that's been the case most of this match, but Karl has been fighting back. Same thing with Molotov, hell, both of these guys.
ID: I know, Jess.
JC: Wait a second, Karl's showing a second wind.
[Brown starts to push his shoulders back and get some leverage.]
ID: Wouldn't that be his fourth or fifth bloody wind?
[Brown is up on one knee as Molotov's grip on the hold is breaking.]
JC: Christ Duke, can't you let me make an analogy in peace?
ID: Bloody never, Mr. "I can't stop calling Duke a homer."
JC: You are a petty man, Duke, but Karl is about to be a free man... yes! He's out of the hold and he gets behind Molotov in a rear waistlock... BIG GERMAN SUPLEX! Molotov rolling over on his stomach and once again, Karl Brown is on the hunt!
ID: Be still my beating heart!
[Brown up and now looking over Molotov's upper back, sizing it up.]
JC: I'm with you on this one Duke, but it's worth it. I guarantee you that, whoever wins this Merritt Trophy will have deserved it.
[Brown with one knee drop on Molotov.]
JC: Brown must want to literally break Molotov's back here, he lands another knee to that back, and now another.
ID: Three knees!
JC: You can rhyme, Dukey, and he's going for a fourth... no, Molotov rolls out of the way, but Brown stops short! He leans back and... ELBOW DROP! Right across Molotov's chest! He outsmarted the assassin there!
ID: Bloody right he did!
JC: And now a cover...
...one...
...two...
...th... no! Molotov kicks out! He kicks out! You can see the frustration start to set in on both men, on Karl for not being able to finish and on Molotov for not being able to keep up the dominance he had earlier on in the match, for letting it slip away like this.
[Brown lifts Molotov up to his feet. Irish whip.]
ID: But one thing you need to remember, like you said earlier...
JC: TILT-A-WHIRL BACKBREAKER! Big move here and Karl with another pin attempt...
...one...
...two...
...thr... no! Kickout! As you were saying Dukey?
[Brown slams the mat and kneels up.]
ID: Well, I was saying, like you said earlier in the match, there is no score in these matches, so momentum shifts are huge.
[Brown picks Molotov up again and another Irish whip.]
JC: That is correct. Molotov could get back in this match at any moment, but now he's totally not in it, as Karl with the step-through neckbreaker out of the Irish whip this time. Another cover...
...one...
...two...
...thr... no! Another kickout, this one with a little more authority than the last one!
ID: I'm telling you, there bloody has to be something in his damn vodka!
[Brown pounds the mat again but this time gets right up, grabbing Molotov with him.]
JC: Maybe there is, and maybe there isn't, although whatever's left will be gone if Karl hits the Dragon's Bite here like he wants to...
ID: C'mon Karl, c'mon...
JC: NO! Molotov with one elbow, but Karl still holding on for dear life, another elbow... one more, the rear facelock is broken... ACE CRUSHER! ACE CRUSHER! Victor Molotov just hit Karl Brown with an ace crusher and he again escapes near defeat!
ID: I've compared him to a pitbull and a cockroach tonight... dare I bloody call the wanker the Russian Houdini?
[Brown on the canvas, holding his head, Molotov kneeling up, taking a small breather.]
JC: I don't know Dukey. I just don't know anymore. Molotov is up, leaning on the ropes, while Karl is struggling to get up after taking that stunning move right to his chin.
ID: Molotov should have covered when he had the chance.
[Brown getting up to the ropes, leaning on them.]
JC: Easy to say that, Duke, but you don't know what physical condition he's in. He's been through a war tonight. Both men now up and approaching each other in the middle of the ring...
[PUNT!]
JC: ...Molotov with a DDT! He covers...
...one...
...two...
..thr... NO! NO! Karl Brown kicks out! Molotov can't believe it!
ID: Neither can bloody Molotov!
[Molotov storms to his feet.]
JC: You're right, he's beside himself, Dukey. Pavlov's Pitbull stomping Karl's head like a winemaker stomps his grapes.
ID: Bloody hell, if he wasn't trying to kill Karl before, he certainly is now.
JC: Molotov bounces back off the ropes... KNEE DROP! Drops the knee right across Karl's forehead, and I think he's dead.
ID: You've been saying that all match, and he keeps coming back. I wouldn't hire you to be my bloody coroner.
JC: That's good, because this is the only job I love. Molotov covers...
...one...
...two...
...th... NO! NO! Karl Brown kicks out!
ID: I bloody told you!
[Molotov slaps the canvas and has a word with Pat Jones.]
JC: Alive, yes, but after all the punishment he's taken, do you think he can actually come back?
[Molotov picks Brown to his feet.]
ID: Don't be daft, Jess. You could have said the same about Molotov. Both of these men are true champions, no matter what happens here.
JC: That one at least is right Duke. Molotov whips Karl into the corner, follows in slowly, now perching Karl on the top turnbuckle. I think we're going to see a superplex here.
ID: One of many moves we could see, Jess.
JC: Well yeah, but conventional wisdom... Molotov now climbing the turnbuckles, he's up to the first... second... and KARL BROWN STILL HAS SOME LIFE LEFT IN HIM! Right hand to the Russian assassin! Another right! Molotov can't fight back without losing his balance!
ID: He's in no man's land... if he holds on to the ropes, he can't defend himself. If he lets go, he falls!
JC: Karl winding up again...
[Brown nails Molotov with a third right, Molotov flies off the turnbuckles and the crowd EXPLODES!]
JC: Will you listen to this ovation for Karl Brown?
ID: I bloody love it, but he has to follow up!
JC: Karl's waiting for Molotov to get to his feet... I don't know if he should be biding his time like this.
ID: You said it before... calculated risks! He's bloody taking one right now!
JC: Molotov is up and...
[Brown leaps from the top doing a somersault motion.]
ID: BLOOOOODDDDY HEEEELLLLLLLL!!!
JC: DRAGONRANA! DRAGONRANA! DRAGONRANA! HOLY CRAP, KARL BROWN JUST HIT VICTOR MOLOTOV WITH THE DRAGONRANA!
[Crowd absolutely goes apesh*t.]
ID: What a move! It paid of... but why isn't he covering?
JC: I think this crowd... and Karl want to make sure Molotov is finished for good!
ID: But he already tried to hit the Dragon's Bite twice... Molotov has it scouted!
[Brown grabs Molotov to his feet, getting behind him and putting in a dragon sleeper.]
JC: I don't know. Maybe he thinks third time is a charm.... no! Molotov is fighting again...
[Brown quickly clubs Molotov across his chest and locks back in the sleeper.]
JC: That'll put him down... Karl goes up...
[CRASH~!]
JC: DRAGON'S BITE! DRAGON'S BITE! KARL BROWN FINALLY HIT THE DRAGON'S BITE! Cover...
...one...
...two...
....THREE!!!
[DING DING DING DING]
[Crowd explodes! Chapel takes off his headset and leaves the broadcast area.
ID: I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Karl Brown has bloody done it!
MD: Heeeeere is your winner.... and the 2005 Merritt Trophy Winner...
...Karl... "THE DRRRRRRRRAAAGGGGONNNNN..." ....BRRRROOOWWWWWNNNN!
ID: I... I am bloody speechless right now! Britannia rules the wrestling ring once again!
[The trophy people come down to the ring with the beautiful, three-tiered Merritt Trophy. Chapel, who'd been waiting for it, takes the trophy and enters the ring. He takes the microphone from Darling.]
JC: Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, it is my honor to present to you, the first ever Merritt Trophy winner, a man who went through five other men in five epic wars to earn this right. A man whom I am proud to say will be the first standard bearer for this trophy and for TEAM... KARL BROWN!
[Chapel hands the trophy over to Brown, who hoists it high to a hyoooge pop from the New York crowd. The shot goes still.]
JC V/O: The Breakthrough. It happens here.
The scene fades to a white background with this printed in big, black numbering:
JESS CHAPEL V/O: The Breakthrough. It happens without warning most of the time, but when it does, we go back and analyze the buildup and say "Yeah, it was there that I knew they were going to make it." It can take time though. Took Andre Agassi a few years before he could break through and become one of tennis' elite. Bill Cowher's Steelers had to wait a baker's dozen and enter the AFC playoffs as a six-seed before they could. Two years ago, we witnessed a breakthrough in this very tournament...
The still photo comes to life.
JC: I mean, these two men must have an infinite reserve of will to win. Molotov is up now and... good Lord! Shades of Mr. Hyde here with that Beastslayer!
ID: A bloody Regal Stretch!
JC: Molotov stretching the life out of Karl Brown. I mean, this man is a master of submissions, and slowly but surely, he's worn the Dragon down to the point where I wouldn't be surprised to see him tap with every passing second.
ID: Karl Brown will never tap! A Briton doesn't give up!
JC: Unless that Briton is you, right Dukey?
ID: Pipe down you bloody wanker! I'm rallying the troops!
JC: Well, the troops do need to be rallied for Karl, because he's being stretched. Still, he's close to the ropes. He just needs to get in the ropes.
ID: Bah, what's the use, Molotov will just keep the hold locked in until Pat Jones counts bloody five.
JC: That may be the case, but at least after those seconds, he'd be out of the hold without having to tap, and that's more than I can say for him now. But he's getting closer, closer...
ID: Almost there!
JC: And... he's there! He's in the ropes and... holy crap! Molotov with the clean, immediate break!
ID: I don't flipping believe it!
JC: Neither do I! The only explanation I can think of is that Karl doing it finally got to Molotov mentally. I'd call this a moral victory for Karl Brown, but right now, moral victories mean as much as being armed with a Bowie knife in a nuclear war.
[Molotov grabs Brown to his feet in a front waistlock.]
JC: Molotov looking for the belly to... NO! Karl with the headbutt! Breaks loose from the waistlock and now.... LARIATO!
[Crowd explodes.]
ID: My word!
JC: Brown to his feet and he's looking over to the corner with the approval of this crowd. I think you're going to have to bust out the Air Britannia call again, Dukey.
[Brown heads over to the ropes swiftly and climbs.]
ID: I don't know. He can't be going to the well too many times, but if he hits this move, the match could be over.
JC: But he has to hit it, I agree, and he's on the top. Leaps with the splash and... NO! Molotov moved! Molotov moved! Karl flips on his back and Molotov with the quick cover...
...one...
...two...
...Karl kicks out!
ID: I knew it, I told you, he shouldn't have gone.
[Molotov up and brings Brown to his feet.]
JC: Well Dukey, hindsight is twenty/twenty, but you can't win matches unless you take calculated risks. This one just didn't pay off, and now Molotov is in control. Double underhook and textbook butterfly suplex. Molotov back over with that Pavlov Pitbull tenacity and he sits Karl up into an abdominal stretch.
ID: If he wasn't seated, I'd think maybe he was segueing into the Molotov Cocktail.
JC: Well, maybe he is, I don't know, but for now, he's working the neck and abs with this hold.
ID: Either way, things do not look peachy for Karl.
JC: Well, that's been the case most of this match, but Karl has been fighting back. Same thing with Molotov, hell, both of these guys.
ID: I know, Jess.
JC: Wait a second, Karl's showing a second wind.
[Brown starts to push his shoulders back and get some leverage.]
ID: Wouldn't that be his fourth or fifth bloody wind?
[Brown is up on one knee as Molotov's grip on the hold is breaking.]
JC: Christ Duke, can't you let me make an analogy in peace?
ID: Bloody never, Mr. "I can't stop calling Duke a homer."
JC: You are a petty man, Duke, but Karl is about to be a free man... yes! He's out of the hold and he gets behind Molotov in a rear waistlock... BIG GERMAN SUPLEX! Molotov rolling over on his stomach and once again, Karl Brown is on the hunt!
ID: Be still my beating heart!
[Brown up and now looking over Molotov's upper back, sizing it up.]
JC: I'm with you on this one Duke, but it's worth it. I guarantee you that, whoever wins this Merritt Trophy will have deserved it.
[Brown with one knee drop on Molotov.]
JC: Brown must want to literally break Molotov's back here, he lands another knee to that back, and now another.
ID: Three knees!
JC: You can rhyme, Dukey, and he's going for a fourth... no, Molotov rolls out of the way, but Brown stops short! He leans back and... ELBOW DROP! Right across Molotov's chest! He outsmarted the assassin there!
ID: Bloody right he did!
JC: And now a cover...
...one...
...two...
...th... no! Molotov kicks out! He kicks out! You can see the frustration start to set in on both men, on Karl for not being able to finish and on Molotov for not being able to keep up the dominance he had earlier on in the match, for letting it slip away like this.
[Brown lifts Molotov up to his feet. Irish whip.]
ID: But one thing you need to remember, like you said earlier...
JC: TILT-A-WHIRL BACKBREAKER! Big move here and Karl with another pin attempt...
...one...
...two...
...thr... no! Kickout! As you were saying Dukey?
[Brown slams the mat and kneels up.]
ID: Well, I was saying, like you said earlier in the match, there is no score in these matches, so momentum shifts are huge.
[Brown picks Molotov up again and another Irish whip.]
JC: That is correct. Molotov could get back in this match at any moment, but now he's totally not in it, as Karl with the step-through neckbreaker out of the Irish whip this time. Another cover...
...one...
...two...
...thr... no! Another kickout, this one with a little more authority than the last one!
ID: I'm telling you, there bloody has to be something in his damn vodka!
[Brown pounds the mat again but this time gets right up, grabbing Molotov with him.]
JC: Maybe there is, and maybe there isn't, although whatever's left will be gone if Karl hits the Dragon's Bite here like he wants to...
ID: C'mon Karl, c'mon...
JC: NO! Molotov with one elbow, but Karl still holding on for dear life, another elbow... one more, the rear facelock is broken... ACE CRUSHER! ACE CRUSHER! Victor Molotov just hit Karl Brown with an ace crusher and he again escapes near defeat!
ID: I've compared him to a pitbull and a cockroach tonight... dare I bloody call the wanker the Russian Houdini?
[Brown on the canvas, holding his head, Molotov kneeling up, taking a small breather.]
JC: I don't know Dukey. I just don't know anymore. Molotov is up, leaning on the ropes, while Karl is struggling to get up after taking that stunning move right to his chin.
ID: Molotov should have covered when he had the chance.
[Brown getting up to the ropes, leaning on them.]
JC: Easy to say that, Duke, but you don't know what physical condition he's in. He's been through a war tonight. Both men now up and approaching each other in the middle of the ring...
[PUNT!]
JC: ...Molotov with a DDT! He covers...
...one...
...two...
..thr... NO! NO! Karl Brown kicks out! Molotov can't believe it!
ID: Neither can bloody Molotov!
[Molotov storms to his feet.]
JC: You're right, he's beside himself, Dukey. Pavlov's Pitbull stomping Karl's head like a winemaker stomps his grapes.
ID: Bloody hell, if he wasn't trying to kill Karl before, he certainly is now.
JC: Molotov bounces back off the ropes... KNEE DROP! Drops the knee right across Karl's forehead, and I think he's dead.
ID: You've been saying that all match, and he keeps coming back. I wouldn't hire you to be my bloody coroner.
JC: That's good, because this is the only job I love. Molotov covers...
...one...
...two...
...th... NO! NO! Karl Brown kicks out!
ID: I bloody told you!
[Molotov slaps the canvas and has a word with Pat Jones.]
JC: Alive, yes, but after all the punishment he's taken, do you think he can actually come back?
[Molotov picks Brown to his feet.]
ID: Don't be daft, Jess. You could have said the same about Molotov. Both of these men are true champions, no matter what happens here.
JC: That one at least is right Duke. Molotov whips Karl into the corner, follows in slowly, now perching Karl on the top turnbuckle. I think we're going to see a superplex here.
ID: One of many moves we could see, Jess.
JC: Well yeah, but conventional wisdom... Molotov now climbing the turnbuckles, he's up to the first... second... and KARL BROWN STILL HAS SOME LIFE LEFT IN HIM! Right hand to the Russian assassin! Another right! Molotov can't fight back without losing his balance!
ID: He's in no man's land... if he holds on to the ropes, he can't defend himself. If he lets go, he falls!
JC: Karl winding up again...
[Brown nails Molotov with a third right, Molotov flies off the turnbuckles and the crowd EXPLODES!]
JC: Will you listen to this ovation for Karl Brown?
ID: I bloody love it, but he has to follow up!
JC: Karl's waiting for Molotov to get to his feet... I don't know if he should be biding his time like this.
ID: You said it before... calculated risks! He's bloody taking one right now!
JC: Molotov is up and...
[Brown leaps from the top doing a somersault motion.]
ID: BLOOOOODDDDY HEEEELLLLLLLL!!!
JC: DRAGONRANA! DRAGONRANA! DRAGONRANA! HOLY CRAP, KARL BROWN JUST HIT VICTOR MOLOTOV WITH THE DRAGONRANA!
[Crowd absolutely goes apesh*t.]
ID: What a move! It paid of... but why isn't he covering?
JC: I think this crowd... and Karl want to make sure Molotov is finished for good!
ID: But he already tried to hit the Dragon's Bite twice... Molotov has it scouted!
[Brown grabs Molotov to his feet, getting behind him and putting in a dragon sleeper.]
JC: I don't know. Maybe he thinks third time is a charm.... no! Molotov is fighting again...
[Brown quickly clubs Molotov across his chest and locks back in the sleeper.]
JC: That'll put him down... Karl goes up...
[CRASH~!]
JC: DRAGON'S BITE! DRAGON'S BITE! KARL BROWN FINALLY HIT THE DRAGON'S BITE! Cover...
...one...
...two...
....THREE!!!
[DING DING DING DING]
[Crowd explodes! Chapel takes off his headset and leaves the broadcast area.
ID: I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Karl Brown has bloody done it!
MD: Heeeeere is your winner.... and the 2005 Merritt Trophy Winner...
...Karl... "THE DRRRRRRRRAAAGGGGONNNNN..." ....BRRRROOOWWWWWNNNN!
ID: I... I am bloody speechless right now! Britannia rules the wrestling ring once again!
[The trophy people come down to the ring with the beautiful, three-tiered Merritt Trophy. Chapel, who'd been waiting for it, takes the trophy and enters the ring. He takes the microphone from Darling.]
JC: Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, it is my honor to present to you, the first ever Merritt Trophy winner, a man who went through five other men in five epic wars to earn this right. A man whom I am proud to say will be the first standard bearer for this trophy and for TEAM... KARL BROWN!
[Chapel hands the trophy over to Brown, who hoists it high to a hyoooge pop from the New York crowd. The shot goes still.]
JC V/O: The Breakthrough. It happens here.
The scene fades to a white background with this printed in big, black numbering:
2/15/08