Ranson
01-29-2010, 03:26 PM
I won't go into how I talked the Snockey magnate into hiring me to run his promotion; even I'm not completely sure how it happened, as we don't even speak the same language. All I can say is that it was one hell of a New Year's bash we were both at. Maybe he liked my mask, I dunno. As to why I decided to make an extended stay in Mexico, where my career had never taken me before, well, I still maintain that she sure as hell didn't look fifteen.
In any case, I found myself studying a lot of film to familiarize myself with the SOTBPW roster and crowds, as well as the competition. I was part of the biggest game in town, but I could see room for a few immediate improvements. First off, after one hour in the gym, I fired the current road agent. I don't even remember his name. If nothing else, I could do a better job than that loser, but after the firing there was some chatter in the locker room about a good replacement, and Enrique Merino mentioned something about "Luis Montero". I knew that name from his old California Pro Wrestling days; if that old ring general was available I'd be stunned. Not only was he a legend in his own right, but he could carry a match with a plank of wood. I made the call, and he agreed to talk later on. With luck, I could get him in before my first show.
Move number two was along the same lines. A lot of local indy videos showed good ref work; better than we had in-house. I made some calls, but I didn't drop the current guys. I could double as an agent if need be, but we need refs with some experience. I'd kill to get an announcing team with some chemistry; the in ring talent is sure to be hindered by the bland commentary, but there's just no one available. If Carl Batch could speak Spanish, I'd fly him back and forth from Puerto Rico out of my own pocket. I'll keep an eye out, because he's sure to pick up something where he is.
In an event that makes me even happier, my owner wants screen time. I hate to disappoint the man, but he's about as charismatic as a busted garden gnome, and not much taller. Pre-show segments in the background, it is. If he improves rapidly, maybe he can do something else. Looking at the books, he's already paying himself for it, anyway. I wonder if his tax accountant put him up to it for some reason; he's making more in his "on-screen role" than most of his top stars. However, by giving in on this point, I got him to agree to go all-out on the backstage luxuries. Catering, masseuse, the whole lot. Someone asked for a chiropractor, but I said no. I won't have that pseudoscientific alt-med crap in my locker room. Most everyone was pleased enough with the other perks, though. I instituted a moderate (in my opinion) drug policy.
And that, my friends, was the end of day one.
In any case, I found myself studying a lot of film to familiarize myself with the SOTBPW roster and crowds, as well as the competition. I was part of the biggest game in town, but I could see room for a few immediate improvements. First off, after one hour in the gym, I fired the current road agent. I don't even remember his name. If nothing else, I could do a better job than that loser, but after the firing there was some chatter in the locker room about a good replacement, and Enrique Merino mentioned something about "Luis Montero". I knew that name from his old California Pro Wrestling days; if that old ring general was available I'd be stunned. Not only was he a legend in his own right, but he could carry a match with a plank of wood. I made the call, and he agreed to talk later on. With luck, I could get him in before my first show.
Move number two was along the same lines. A lot of local indy videos showed good ref work; better than we had in-house. I made some calls, but I didn't drop the current guys. I could double as an agent if need be, but we need refs with some experience. I'd kill to get an announcing team with some chemistry; the in ring talent is sure to be hindered by the bland commentary, but there's just no one available. If Carl Batch could speak Spanish, I'd fly him back and forth from Puerto Rico out of my own pocket. I'll keep an eye out, because he's sure to pick up something where he is.
In an event that makes me even happier, my owner wants screen time. I hate to disappoint the man, but he's about as charismatic as a busted garden gnome, and not much taller. Pre-show segments in the background, it is. If he improves rapidly, maybe he can do something else. Looking at the books, he's already paying himself for it, anyway. I wonder if his tax accountant put him up to it for some reason; he's making more in his "on-screen role" than most of his top stars. However, by giving in on this point, I got him to agree to go all-out on the backstage luxuries. Catering, masseuse, the whole lot. Someone asked for a chiropractor, but I said no. I won't have that pseudoscientific alt-med crap in my locker room. Most everyone was pleased enough with the other perks, though. I instituted a moderate (in my opinion) drug policy.
And that, my friends, was the end of day one.