Post by "Unbelievable" Emberto Ortiz on Sept 19, 2006 21:33:25 GMT -5
(Camera fades in following a profile view of Ortiz outside, jogging just before sunset. It is a slightly steep, but well traveled path up the side of what looks like a forested mountain.)
(Ortiz turns toward the camera, sweating, but not at a loss for breath as he continues his jog.)
Oh, hey, Jason. Drake. Sorry, you caught me outside the gym. But on a night like this, I couldn’t resist a little fun in these great outdoors.
(Ortiz suddenly breaks off the path, hurdling over a rotting log and burying a spinning heel kick into the side of a sapling, splintering it.)
(Ortiz bows, then sits cross-legged on a nearby stump, motioning for the camera to follow. The ambient sounds of flora and fauna fill the evening air, as Ortiz and the camera pan silently around to bask in the beauty of the unspoiled canopy.)
Pretty amazing, eh? Makes you feel like you’re part of something beautiful. Something priceless. Something as old as time itself.
Jason, you and I… we’ve got a lot in common with this magical place. We are both parts of something incredible in our own way. You come from an awe-inspiring tradition of Canadian wrestling. Arguably the greatest wrestlers in the world. Technical masterminds, provocative characters, high flyers, you name it, Canada has it, and odds are, it has some of the best.
But I come from a tradition steeped in wrestling tradition, too. My people pioneered much of the wrestling you see today. Luchadors entertained the crowd with aerial acrobatics and technical displays that would have you picking your jaw up off the mat.
(Ortiz stands from his perch and hops down, stretching as he does so.)
For every Chris Benoit, Brett Hart, Bobby Roode and Adam Copeland, there’s a Guerrero, a Mysterio, or now, an Ortiz that’s ready to test the North of the border with the South.
(Ortiz zips his windbreaker up to his neck as he looks to continue his workout. A distant sigh of thunder is heard as Ortiz begins to jog in place. Ortiz looks up at the sky, then cracks a smile as he turns to the camera.)
Looks like a storm IS coming. Don’t you worry, though. I’ll be ready. I’m always ready. It’s going to take more than a little storm to stop me, you can believe that.
(Ortiz sprints back onto the path, continuing up the mountain, disregarding the rain and speeding off into the night.)
(Ortiz turns toward the camera, sweating, but not at a loss for breath as he continues his jog.)
Oh, hey, Jason. Drake. Sorry, you caught me outside the gym. But on a night like this, I couldn’t resist a little fun in these great outdoors.
(Ortiz suddenly breaks off the path, hurdling over a rotting log and burying a spinning heel kick into the side of a sapling, splintering it.)
(Ortiz bows, then sits cross-legged on a nearby stump, motioning for the camera to follow. The ambient sounds of flora and fauna fill the evening air, as Ortiz and the camera pan silently around to bask in the beauty of the unspoiled canopy.)
Pretty amazing, eh? Makes you feel like you’re part of something beautiful. Something priceless. Something as old as time itself.
Jason, you and I… we’ve got a lot in common with this magical place. We are both parts of something incredible in our own way. You come from an awe-inspiring tradition of Canadian wrestling. Arguably the greatest wrestlers in the world. Technical masterminds, provocative characters, high flyers, you name it, Canada has it, and odds are, it has some of the best.
But I come from a tradition steeped in wrestling tradition, too. My people pioneered much of the wrestling you see today. Luchadors entertained the crowd with aerial acrobatics and technical displays that would have you picking your jaw up off the mat.
(Ortiz stands from his perch and hops down, stretching as he does so.)
For every Chris Benoit, Brett Hart, Bobby Roode and Adam Copeland, there’s a Guerrero, a Mysterio, or now, an Ortiz that’s ready to test the North of the border with the South.
(Ortiz zips his windbreaker up to his neck as he looks to continue his workout. A distant sigh of thunder is heard as Ortiz begins to jog in place. Ortiz looks up at the sky, then cracks a smile as he turns to the camera.)
Looks like a storm IS coming. Don’t you worry, though. I’ll be ready. I’m always ready. It’s going to take more than a little storm to stop me, you can believe that.
(Ortiz sprints back onto the path, continuing up the mountain, disregarding the rain and speeding off into the night.)
