Post by Tapioca Joe on Mar 3, 2018 12:19:49 GMT -8
"I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. Thinking about my life. My dreams when I was a child. My hopes as I was a teenager. My goals as I became an adult. I thought about the friends I’ve made and the friends I’ve lost. I think about my family. I think about the random people I’ve met in cities, people that one way or another have affected my life. I think about the times when I have heard twenty thousand people chanting my name, and the times I’ve heard thirty thousand screaming for my blood. I think about what I have sacrificed and what I still may need to sacrifice. But mainly I think about…Heroes."
"There have been times in my life when I have been called that word. Sometimes I feel I have deserved it, but more often I feel it’s been used in vain. Heroes are men and women who overcome great adversity to perform magnificent feats. Men and women, who know they have no chance of succeeding, but still pull through."
"You might cite Jeremy Glick, Thomas E. Burnett Jr. and Mark Bingham as ideal role models. You would be correct. These men braved their lives to take back a plane hijacked by terrorists on September 11th, 2001. These men knew about the other attacks and knew what would happen if somebody didn’t make a stand. These men made a stand! And while they ultimately perished, the died on their own terms. They died free. They died as heroes."
"Hell, you can even name me any fireman in the world and I will sit here and tell you that they’re heroes. Men and women who, on a daily basis, go out and risk their lives to save others. They are underpaid and unappreciated. They make less than one quarter the starting salary for the National Basketball Association. Yet they do it, without complaint, because it needs to be done. Heroes."
"There are so many others. So many other examples of bad gone great, of the meek overcoming the strong, of people ignoring the little voice inside that says, “HEY, YOU CAN’T DO THAT!” But they do it. They don’t give in. They don’t walk away. They don’t stand back and watch as co-workers get gang jumped at our place of employment. They don’t listen to a madman with a God complex berate the people that cheered you, took you back after you walked away from them, and make excuses like, “It isn’t your fight, someone else will win it.” Someone else shouldn’t have had to fight it."
"People call me a hero based upon some minor heroics. I’m not a hero, not in the least bit…"
"On the flip side of the conversation, for years I sat back and listened to the criticism. "Tapioca Joe is a great wrestler, but he doesn't seem to be able to win the big matches," or "How can Tapioca Joe be in the talks as one of the greatest when he's never won the World Heavyweight Championship," or my personal favorite "I've always felt that Tap is a little overrated, more than a little actually.""
"I've always let it slide right off me. No matter what you do, you're always going to have people that want to bring you down. I've tried not to take the criticisms personally, but yet I always try to defend myself. Offering excuses to the comments. First of all, I didn't nominate myself as being amongst the discussion of the greatest. While even being mentioned flatters me, I'll never agree with it. Everyone that can be discussed with the exception of myself has held a Heavyweight belt. Me? I'm just a Immortal Kingdom Crown holder that was cheated out of two matches so far known more for being able to take massive amounts of pain. So do I deserve to be in the discussion? No. At least not yet."
"Secondly, am I overrated? I don't think so. I've never gotten the amount of hype that many other wrestlers have. When I came out of retirement, my fans were pleased, but it didn't shake the foundations of pro wrestling. I think the comment I receive most about my abilities and career is, "Tapioca Joe is one of the toughest men alive." Guess what? I've proven that. Even if you don’t look back over my thirty year career, look back at my matches so far in Global Division Wrestling; look at the amount of punishment I've taken, and the shocked look of my opponents when they realize that they can't do enough damage to me to keep me down for three seconds. Some wrestling mag said it best when it called me a "one man freak show," because throughout the Immortal Kingdom Crown match I kept getting hit and hit, and I kept getting up. Watch my match against Mark Storm, or even against Jack Owyns, and then try to tell me I'm overrated."
"I've been in this business longer than most of the roster has even been alive. I've wrestled on six different continents. I've had roses thrown in the ring after a match by thousands of grateful Japanese fans. I've had hundreds of poor South African children run along the cab that took me from a small arena to an even smaller hotel room. I've shaken hands with both the Prime Minister and the future King of England. I've met three former U.S. Presidents. I've wrestled in front of 60,000 fans at the Tokyo Dome, and 60 fans in the Monongahela Middle School Gym in Killeen, Texas. All of it leads to March 9th. Every breath I've taken. Every meal I've eaten. Every day I've spent in the presence of the wonder that is my child. Every hour I've spent in the passionate embrace of my wife. The long hours on the road with the "boys." The nights sharing a hotel room after a show, just trying to get four hours of sleep before having to catch the next flight. The hundreds of autograph sessions. The countless times having to wrap my knees or shoulders in ice. The broken bones. The lost pints of blood. The loneliness. The anger. The joy. The doubt. The euphoria. Every emotion that a wrestler feels. The knowledge that for a few hours a night, you become a god to the people willing to believe. The ridicule by the people who refuse to acknowledge that what you do is very real. Watching men that I've trained become rising stars in the world. Watching friends you've trained with be lowered into the ground. Knowing that if I'm not careful, every match could be my last. Hearing the voice of doctors tell you to give it up. Knowing full well that I never will."
"Jack, here we are for the second time in the ring, and now you've got my full attention."
"The only question is, do you honestly think you can stop me?”
"There have been times in my life when I have been called that word. Sometimes I feel I have deserved it, but more often I feel it’s been used in vain. Heroes are men and women who overcome great adversity to perform magnificent feats. Men and women, who know they have no chance of succeeding, but still pull through."
"You might cite Jeremy Glick, Thomas E. Burnett Jr. and Mark Bingham as ideal role models. You would be correct. These men braved their lives to take back a plane hijacked by terrorists on September 11th, 2001. These men knew about the other attacks and knew what would happen if somebody didn’t make a stand. These men made a stand! And while they ultimately perished, the died on their own terms. They died free. They died as heroes."
"Hell, you can even name me any fireman in the world and I will sit here and tell you that they’re heroes. Men and women who, on a daily basis, go out and risk their lives to save others. They are underpaid and unappreciated. They make less than one quarter the starting salary for the National Basketball Association. Yet they do it, without complaint, because it needs to be done. Heroes."
"There are so many others. So many other examples of bad gone great, of the meek overcoming the strong, of people ignoring the little voice inside that says, “HEY, YOU CAN’T DO THAT!” But they do it. They don’t give in. They don’t walk away. They don’t stand back and watch as co-workers get gang jumped at our place of employment. They don’t listen to a madman with a God complex berate the people that cheered you, took you back after you walked away from them, and make excuses like, “It isn’t your fight, someone else will win it.” Someone else shouldn’t have had to fight it."
"People call me a hero based upon some minor heroics. I’m not a hero, not in the least bit…"
"On the flip side of the conversation, for years I sat back and listened to the criticism. "Tapioca Joe is a great wrestler, but he doesn't seem to be able to win the big matches," or "How can Tapioca Joe be in the talks as one of the greatest when he's never won the World Heavyweight Championship," or my personal favorite "I've always felt that Tap is a little overrated, more than a little actually.""
"I've always let it slide right off me. No matter what you do, you're always going to have people that want to bring you down. I've tried not to take the criticisms personally, but yet I always try to defend myself. Offering excuses to the comments. First of all, I didn't nominate myself as being amongst the discussion of the greatest. While even being mentioned flatters me, I'll never agree with it. Everyone that can be discussed with the exception of myself has held a Heavyweight belt. Me? I'm just a Immortal Kingdom Crown holder that was cheated out of two matches so far known more for being able to take massive amounts of pain. So do I deserve to be in the discussion? No. At least not yet."
"Secondly, am I overrated? I don't think so. I've never gotten the amount of hype that many other wrestlers have. When I came out of retirement, my fans were pleased, but it didn't shake the foundations of pro wrestling. I think the comment I receive most about my abilities and career is, "Tapioca Joe is one of the toughest men alive." Guess what? I've proven that. Even if you don’t look back over my thirty year career, look back at my matches so far in Global Division Wrestling; look at the amount of punishment I've taken, and the shocked look of my opponents when they realize that they can't do enough damage to me to keep me down for three seconds. Some wrestling mag said it best when it called me a "one man freak show," because throughout the Immortal Kingdom Crown match I kept getting hit and hit, and I kept getting up. Watch my match against Mark Storm, or even against Jack Owyns, and then try to tell me I'm overrated."
"I've been in this business longer than most of the roster has even been alive. I've wrestled on six different continents. I've had roses thrown in the ring after a match by thousands of grateful Japanese fans. I've had hundreds of poor South African children run along the cab that took me from a small arena to an even smaller hotel room. I've shaken hands with both the Prime Minister and the future King of England. I've met three former U.S. Presidents. I've wrestled in front of 60,000 fans at the Tokyo Dome, and 60 fans in the Monongahela Middle School Gym in Killeen, Texas. All of it leads to March 9th. Every breath I've taken. Every meal I've eaten. Every day I've spent in the presence of the wonder that is my child. Every hour I've spent in the passionate embrace of my wife. The long hours on the road with the "boys." The nights sharing a hotel room after a show, just trying to get four hours of sleep before having to catch the next flight. The hundreds of autograph sessions. The countless times having to wrap my knees or shoulders in ice. The broken bones. The lost pints of blood. The loneliness. The anger. The joy. The doubt. The euphoria. Every emotion that a wrestler feels. The knowledge that for a few hours a night, you become a god to the people willing to believe. The ridicule by the people who refuse to acknowledge that what you do is very real. Watching men that I've trained become rising stars in the world. Watching friends you've trained with be lowered into the ground. Knowing that if I'm not careful, every match could be my last. Hearing the voice of doctors tell you to give it up. Knowing full well that I never will."
"Jack, here we are for the second time in the ring, and now you've got my full attention."
"The only question is, do you honestly think you can stop me?”
