The Wolf

“I haven't met loads of assholes, only children. If you fill a room with all the assholes you know, I bet that most of them have siblings.”

― Judy Greer, I Don't Know What You Know Me From Confessions of a Co-Star

The following is a pre-recorded message from Mac Bane….

“One of the funny and yet at the same time tragic things about this business is watching someone try to reinvent themselves. It’s funny because they are trying to portray themselves as something they just aren’t. It’s just fake and without credibility or merit. No amount of “help” or self-reflection can change who someone is at their core. That’s the reason that with me, what you see and hear is what you get. I stay true to myself and what I believe. Does that make me a good person? No, not hardly, but you’ll find that what I say and what I do will match. I don’t say one thing then go do something polar opposite. That’s a level of fake I just cannot tolerate. Kind of like the ever-present and ever-growing cancel culture in this country. We live in a world where if you say something to mean to someone, the cancel culture mob will do everything they can to run you off social media. In the process, they are typically more mean-spirited than what you said to cause the reaction. Ironic isn’t it? Much like this match has a certain amount of irony in my opinion.

It will be interesting to see exactly how different you are from your brother. Can you do what he never could? I’ve never lost a match to him unless it was a tag match...maybe I blocked that out of my subconscious. He was never at my level, and I guess we’ll see if you are or not. We’ll also see if the “new” Konrad Raab can break through where so many others have failed. That brings us to the tragic portion of the equation, doesn’t it? The tragedy is around failure. When you’ve put so much into trying to reinvent yourself. To build or rebuild bridges and people don’t believe you. Is the tragedy yours or theirs? It’s all about perspective, isn’t it? The real question is why, why would you care if they believe you or not? If you say you don’t, then your quest for reinvention has failed because it was all fake, to begin with. If you do then at that point it’s your tragedy and no one will care if it hurts your feelings. No one will care if it bothers you that they don’t believe you. The bottom line is, they don’t care about your supposed, new me bullshit.

They’ll continue to ridicule you for your shortcomings and any weakness they can find out about. It’s the nature of what we do in this business. It’s who we are as a culture, the fans don’t tune in to shows or go to shows to hear us pile platitudes on each other. They watch and love what we do because they know they’ll see verbal and physical beatdowns. They want blood in every sense of the word. Someone is watching this right now waiting for me to start tearing you down verbally because it’s a form of blood lust. They hang on to my words spoken to you because they don’t care whether I think highly of you. That’s not who they’ve become accustomed to when I’m on the screen. They want to hear me eviscerate you during these promos and then watch me do it in the ring. That’s the nature of who we are and who they are as fans. The biggest majority of the so-called wrestling fans live vicariously through us. That’s the real tragedy in all of this, they do this because we do what they can only dream of. Some are not physically capable of doing what we do. Most cannot even wrap their brain around how we do what we do. Now we reach the meat of the matter.

You and me in my debut and your return to action.

While you split time between being a wrestler and a NASCAR driver, that is one of the most glaring differences between us. My focus is and always has been Wrestling. This industry is my passion and my focus at all times. While others will tell you that they are the best at what they do, I never fall into that trap. I constantly strive to get better, I also don’t make excuses for my shortcomings in wrestling or life. I don’t know what struggles you face personally, I have no idea what you did to be forced off of television, and honestly, I don’t care. That is your business and none of mine. What I do care about is your lack of focus and your dedication to the sport, which bothers me a great deal. Why would fans care about someone who splits his time between driving around in a circle and Wrestling? That won’t get you the right kind of attention from the fan base, I can tell you that much.

They don’t seem to like part-timers much and neither do I. In our interaction on social media, you were polite and respectful. I won’t lie when you called me a “big name” I chuckled a bit. I’ve never considered myself to be that, am I known? Sure, a lot of people know who I am or at least my reputation. There are even a handful of people in UGWC who know me personally, people I call family. They know better than anyone who I am, but more importantly, they understand what I’m capable of. They get me in ways you probably couldn’t understand. They know that my debut match will be a statement. You only get one opportunity to make a first impression. Your debut should be something that sets a standard, something that people remember for a long time. It establishes you as either a joke, a monster, or something in between. I refuse to be anything but the best in my debut. To give this company less than that is an insult to them and the fanbase. You come from a family that has a history in this business and I know your reputation well enough to know that you’ll try to win this match.

We are not the same, Konrad.

I’m not trying to win a match when I enter that ring, I’m out there to win a fight. Every move is executed with malicious intent. Every punch I throw is intended to knock you out. This is your first match back, I’m the last person they should have put you up against. I don’t play inside that ring, son. I’m not just out there to beat you, I’m out there to embarrass you.

The message cuts to static…

{“The Wolf” - The Bane Home in Las Vegas, NV}

Recently, I had felt less like the “Gentleman Wolf” and more like a Wolf. It’s funny, in the old days, Ken would call me Manster as a joke. Back then, I was

certainly more monster than man. I had few friends then, allies just didn’t exist. I had a reputation for wrecking everything and everyone that got in my way. I could feel my wife, Amber, watching me as I sat on the couch. I knew she was because of the smell of cinnamon that always seemed to be present when she was around. I was so lost in thought as I stared at the old wrestling mask that I held in my hands that I missed the smirk as she asked me, “What gives with the mask?”. I looked up and smiled. Even first thing in the morning, hair was all out of control, she was absolutely the single most beautiful thing in my life. Having my trip down memory lane broken, I looked up at her and smiled. “Ancient history”. She arched an eyebrow at me, this always indicated that the answer provided was not sufficient. I smirked as I began to tell her the story behind the mask.

The scene shifts….

I was eighteen years old, at the time, the legal drinking age was eighteen in Louisiana. In Starks Louisiana, no one much cared anyway. This little dive bar, a redneck haven of sorts, always smelled of vomit and blood. My father had brought me here now that I was old enough to be in this place, to begin with. I had a strong stomach so the smells and the sights within this old building didn’t bother me much. I still had about six months before I was supposed to go to boot camp so I had time to kill. “Classy place pop, what are we doing here?” I asked him. In response, he pointed at the cage that sat in the middle of what should have been a dance floor. “Not we, you,” he said in a flat tone that said there would be no debate. “You are going to fight.” I studied him for a moment and finally asked, “And if I don’t want to?” He sneered at me, “I’ll tell the judge that you have violated the agreement you signed.” I arched an eyebrow, “Alright, who am I fighting?” I asked flatly. “It’s a surprise,” he said in a voice that was full of amusement. He then shoved a paper sack into my gut, “Go change into that.” he barked. I looked down at the paper sack, “So you can fight under an anonymous name, The Wolf.” he said nonchalantly.

I took the sack and changed quickly. The sack contained a singlet, jump boots, and a mask that was in a design that I guess if you squinted just right you could see something wolfish about it. I could hear a crowd gathering and they were already beating on the cage. I slid the mask over my head and my father came in to help me tie up the back of the mask. “Remember the rage you had in your heart the night you threw me off the balcony of that apartment building?” he asked me as I glared at him in the mirror. “Yeah.” was my one-word response to his question. “You’ll need all of that and then some for this.” I could already feel the adrenaline begin to pump, this mother fucker was trying to get me killed. He was trying to make sure that no one would interfere in the abuse he had been dealing out to my mother and sisters. It had taken him over a year before he was able to walk again. The judge told me then that they couldn’t try me as an adult. Secretly I think the judge thought what I did was justified, but he couldn’t do anything other than make me sign an agreement to join the military. One thing that I knew for certain, one day I was going to kill this old man. We heard them get ready to start the first bout. I stood outside the bathroom where I had changed and waited for the announcement.

“Ladies and Gentleman, our opening bout will pit a long-time veteran of our fights against some new blood.”, he paused there as the group of some one hundred people roared with approval. I saw the man I would be facing, he was huge, and not in a good way. He was barely six feet tall and a biscuit away from four hundred pounds. As you might have guessed, his name was Bubba. They called him “The Butcher of Starks”. “That’s who you signed me up to fight?” I asked my father. “Yeah,” he said in response. “He’s killed the last three men they put him in there against,” he said with that same old sneer that he always gave me. That was all it took for me to go to that place as I rounded on him, “Wishful thinking, bitch.” was my response as I made my way to the cage. “His opponent is “The Wolf”, a masked man with no history and no future if Bubba has his way tonight.” I glared at the “ring announcer” with obvious disdain. The man making the introductions got out of the cage quickly and they locked the door.

Shift back to the present

She fidgeted a bit at the telling of this, “obviously you survived that, what about Bubba?” I smiled a sad smile. “Bubba was not so fortunate, he was still alive at the end of the fight, but I was told about a month later that he had passed due to injuries attained from many years of cage fighting,” I replied finally. “I know your dad passed but you never really talk about him much. Did you keep that promise to yourself?” I nodded my head, “The promise was kept on the day I returned from my four-year stint in the Navy.” I said it with finality and in a tone that I realized was an unemotional one but also declared the topic as not open to further discussion. Like many in this profession, I had more than my share of blood on my hands. Remorse wasn’t something that I felt, occasionally I fought with regret but not remorse. Apologizing to my opponents was not something I felt inclined to do. I had ended the careers of men without a second thought or a moment of reflection.

“Funny thing, Red. I never felt bad about any of those fights. No remorse at all. I don’t know if it was the money or just how much I love bashing the skulls of other people in. I guess I’m not a very good person.” I said finally. She studied me for a moment, “You’re fucking terrible, Bane. It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

Fade.