Post by "Unbelievable" Emberto Ortiz on Sept 12, 2006 23:05:03 GMT -5
(Scene fades in, out of focus and double vision. Woozy mirror images gradually come to focus on Ortiz hunched over the camera with his trusty training dummy behind him in his gym.)
Hey! Wake up!
(Ortiz slaps the side of the camera, jarring everything into focus.)
Hey, C-Money, you blacked out for a couple minutes there. You alright? I told you to watch out for that back fist. You wouldn’t be the best fighter to get knocked out early by one of those.
(Ortiz stands, the camera laboring to rise as well. Ortiz grabs a towel, draping it over his shoulder, and walks right, camera panning to follow him over to a Speed bag.)
You gotta pay attention in this game, Moneymaker. You may have coasted through NYC with a sock full of nickels, but this is the big time. This is the TEWF. You lose your focus for one second, and BAM!
(Ortiz blindsides a haymaker into the speed bag, setting it violently in motion.)
Another Unbelievable Knockout. I like you, Plat. You seem to be a nice kid. I don’t wanna see that happen to you. Your crew isn’t gonna be able to bail you out when we throw down this Showdown. We’re live from the Wachovia Center. That’s Philly, ‘home-boy.’ And last I checked, those fans don’t take too kindly to New Yorkers who bounce in like they own the joint.
So let’s give the TEWF fans a fight to steal the show. A fight for the highlight reels. A fight to define careers. I don’t need you stinking up my debut. You can lose by tapping, or you can lose by dropping. Hell, I’ll even take a pinfall. But I’m sure as hell not gonna win by you assing out.
(Ortiz sets up behind the speed bag, wrenching his left hand around it, and cocking back for a huge right hook. Pausing, he looks back up to the camera.)
So pack up your entourage. Shut down the club. Get your ass to the gym, and get ready to fight like it’s the last fight you’ll ever get. Cuz if you don’t come at me with everything you got…
(Ortiz releases the speed bag, sending it hurtling toward the ceiling. Instead of punching with the right, he feigns, then unleashes a whizzing leg kick redirecting the bag, smashing right into the camera.)
… it might be.
(Vision fades on the camera, dissolving into double vision as it stumbles to a knee, then prone, and finally to black.)
Hey! Wake up!
(Ortiz slaps the side of the camera, jarring everything into focus.)
Hey, C-Money, you blacked out for a couple minutes there. You alright? I told you to watch out for that back fist. You wouldn’t be the best fighter to get knocked out early by one of those.
(Ortiz stands, the camera laboring to rise as well. Ortiz grabs a towel, draping it over his shoulder, and walks right, camera panning to follow him over to a Speed bag.)
You gotta pay attention in this game, Moneymaker. You may have coasted through NYC with a sock full of nickels, but this is the big time. This is the TEWF. You lose your focus for one second, and BAM!
(Ortiz blindsides a haymaker into the speed bag, setting it violently in motion.)
Another Unbelievable Knockout. I like you, Plat. You seem to be a nice kid. I don’t wanna see that happen to you. Your crew isn’t gonna be able to bail you out when we throw down this Showdown. We’re live from the Wachovia Center. That’s Philly, ‘home-boy.’ And last I checked, those fans don’t take too kindly to New Yorkers who bounce in like they own the joint.
So let’s give the TEWF fans a fight to steal the show. A fight for the highlight reels. A fight to define careers. I don’t need you stinking up my debut. You can lose by tapping, or you can lose by dropping. Hell, I’ll even take a pinfall. But I’m sure as hell not gonna win by you assing out.
(Ortiz sets up behind the speed bag, wrenching his left hand around it, and cocking back for a huge right hook. Pausing, he looks back up to the camera.)
So pack up your entourage. Shut down the club. Get your ass to the gym, and get ready to fight like it’s the last fight you’ll ever get. Cuz if you don’t come at me with everything you got…
(Ortiz releases the speed bag, sending it hurtling toward the ceiling. Instead of punching with the right, he feigns, then unleashes a whizzing leg kick redirecting the bag, smashing right into the camera.)
… it might be.
(Vision fades on the camera, dissolving into double vision as it stumbles to a knee, then prone, and finally to black.)