Blog: Jimmy Jacobs (12.31.14)
All good things must come to an end...sometime. Nothing lasts forever. The whole purpose of life is entropy. Good things happen, so bad things can happen, so good things can happen. It’s the Circle of Life without singing or cuddly animals.
And Yours Truly, Jimmy Jacobs, is proud to have been your agent provocateur. Your catalyst of change. You see, Jimmy Jacobs is the living embodiment of chaos. My mere presence disrupts the status quo and makes the future unpredictable. You need people like me, or else things would always stay the same. Boring. By the numbers. Me, I like to stir things up. Keeps us all on our toes and makes the game a lot more fun to play, wouldn’t you say?
Actually, there are probably lots of things you might like to say to me. What you should be saying is this:
“Thank you, Jimmy Jacobs. Thank you for helping CHIKARA stop Deucalion once and for all.”
You see, my curious readers, when Deucalion entrusted me to broker his confrontation with Icarus at “Tomorrow Never Dies," he never counted on the stipulations of a steel cage match. I held up my end of the bargain, and I delivered him where and when he was supposed to be. I made sure he was locked in that cell. Did I know Icarus was going to bring a weapon to ringside? No, I did not. That was an unforeseen circumstance that wound up working in our mutual favor.
When I was approached to begin assembling The Flood, I didn’t care very much about what motivates a man...a monster like Deucalion. Something happened to him during his days with Condor Security, working overseas. Maybe he woke up one day and realized that even if you are doing someone else’s dirty work, you end up in the filth just the same. He was the type of angry, the type of destructive force you can only hope to aim, never to control. He was almost a perfect weapon. Until Deucalion made the mistake of thinking that Jimmy Jacobs was just another expendable pawn.
Wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.
If war is a game of chess, Deucalion may have been the king. But make no mistake, Jimmy Jacobs is the undisputed queen of the board. The king needs to be protected, while the queen has complete access to the playing field. Without that piece, chances of winning the game are marginal at best. Deucalion made the mistake of attempting to sacrifice the most important asset he had. Let’s just say I might have taken that act a little personally.
Deucalion is a terrifying figure. An engine of destruction. But he is not a wrestler. The Grand Champion of CHIKARA on the other hand, he is. Inside that cage, the spell of fear Deucalion cast over everyone was broken. Deucalion became a mortal man. His defeat would be his to bear alone.
I spent my 2014 squeezing the breath from CHIKARA’s lungs. For this, the CHIKARMY would probably like to see my head on a lance. But as you close 2014 in your minds, remember that your precious CHIKARA still breathes because I allow it. I made it possible. I put the engine of destruction in a cell, stripped the army from his side, and alone, I delivered him on a silver platter to be vanquished by your hero.
Now, try again: “Thank you, Jimmy Jacobs."
-JJ
Blog: Juan Francisco de Coronado (12.4.14)
My name is Juan Francisco De Coronado, and there has been a recent string of events that have led me to write this piece and truly express what’s on my mind.
There comes a time in a man’s life when he must prove his worth, his potential, and put forth an effort to become all he can be. For most United Staters, this level of potential is never reached. The United Stations is at a disadvantage growing up because they solely rely on their technology to aid in their growth. In Ecuador, boys are raised into men. Through brutal and rigorous training that consists of battling lions, scaling mountains and even braving the piranha-infested Ecuador River with a wooden spoon for a paddle.
In my early years of living in Ecuador this tradition was no different. Papa Coronado knew his seed would go on to be the greatest warrior Ecuador has ever produced. So after my training was complete, my father taught me the maneuver I would go on to master for years to come…The German Suplex! Just like my great great great great great great great great grandfather, I would utilize this maneuver to claim my first victory when I sold out the Ecuadome. Since coming to the United Stations and CHIKARA, the results have been the same. Many have fallen to the German Suplex including: Jervis Cottonbelly, Billy Roc and even TNA superstar Rockstar Spud!
At King of Trios 2014, I was forced to attack Ashley Remington due to his total lack of respect toward the Coronado Family Legacy, as he “attempted” to perform a version of the German Suplex. Many of you United Staters have no sense of pride so I don’t expect you to understand my actions, justified as they are. Ashley Remington proved this when he later challenged me to a one on one contest. It truly had all the elements to be a recreation of the sellout I had back home in the Ecuadome. Except this time I was defeated, and by a variation of the German Suplex no less. Bad officiating aside, Ashley Remington was the better man that night. He in fact is quite the talented competitor. Unfortunately for Mr. Remington, I am a superior competitor and this showed to be true in our rematch.
As I pinned Ashley’s shoulders down to the mat, I could see the distress in his face. He knew that he’d been beat, by the Best German Suplex in the game! But he didn’t know why, and that’s what I am here to tell you. Juan Francisco De Coronado is better than Ashley Remington in any and every aspect. Ashley sails around the United Stations in a yacht, blasting 70's soft rock. But Juan owns a fleet of Yachts back home in Ecuador. And hates soft rock!
Ashley hands out fruit baskets as a sign of friendship. But Juan is the Possessor of the Potassium. Ashley is attempting to perform the German Suplex. But Juan has mastered the German Suplex. Ashley Remington, anything you can do, Juan can do better!
So Ashley, that brings me to this Saturday, December the 6th. You and I will stand across the ring from each other to do battle one last time and finally settle this affair. We are in for quite the suplex waging war, Mr. Remington. I am the Juan-Man Army, The Juan and only, Juan of a Kind, a man of not only great successes but great Value. So as the bell rings, just remember, you cannot win...because I will not lose.
-JFDC
Blog: Ashley Remington (12.3.14)
It was the Summer of ‘98 and I’d spent the better part of it with my cousins in Rhode Island, catching blue crab and telling stories of our boyhood heroes. We lived there for the few years my father worked at Howell Industries, a company that developed navigational systems for touring ships. I was only a child, and fascinated by Popeye the Sailor Man. I’d take a swig of Mountain Dew, pretending it to be spinach and toss crab traps twice my weight onto the dock. Even then I was absurdly hearty for my size.
When I wasn’t playing volleyball with my cousin, Wilson, we’d watch old wrestling tapes from his father’s collection. He’d told me one of our uncles, Lester Crabtree, was a well traveled professional wrestler. But "Darkness" Crabtree was never in the squared circle against Bret Hart. Or Shawn Michaels. Or Macho Man. Or even the first wrestler who really captured my imagination, Captain Mike Rotunda. Wilson talked Uncle Lester up against some of the greats of a generation before television -- wrestlers I’ve only otherwise heard Sidney Bakabella mention. Then Wilson showed me the film reels Uncle Lester would send home from his wrestling exploits in Europe, Japan and Australia. He was magnificent.
Lester Crabtree had the best German Suplex in all of Germany. It was a move I wanted to emulate as a collegiate wrestler. I wanted mine to have the same power and grace. It was a move opponents expected, feared and yet couldn’t avoid. Crowds came out to watch me toss the largest sandbags in their schools over my head like kegs at a fraternity house. Then one year, Uncle Lester came out to see me compete.
No one recognized the grizzled octogenarian. I’d barely recognized him from family photos. My mother had told him about my success in wrestling and Uncle Lester wanted to come see for himself if the wrestling gene passed on to another generation. He told me he was proud of me carrying on a family tradition. His tradition, with his signature move. Uncle Lester didn’t have much time to stay. He and his partner, Mr. Snodgrass were, defending their tag team titles in Czechoslovakia. Uncle Lester made me promise I would continue wrestling and keep our family legacy alive. I agreed.
Then on a Senior Class cruise aboard the Pacific Princess I became enamored with a graduating marine biologist. She was a lovely siren reminiscent of a young Daryl Hannah mixed with some Bryce Dallas Howard, with an insatiable passion for the soft-rock stylings of Christopher Cross and Kenny Loggins. That, my stalwart seamen, is a tale for another time. Suffice to say, I was set adrift on memory bliss. Honeydripping in a sea of love. I'd lost my way. Forgotten my promise.
This year, CHIKARA has shown me how the honored legacy of my Uncle Lester can live on, through me. CHIKARA has welcomed me as one of their own, and I’m profoundly humbled. A year after my uncle’s passing, I can proudly carry on his memory at CHIKARA’s biggest event of the year. What a fateful coincidence that it’s a contest contesting the very move my uncle mastered and later bequeathed to me. This is my chance to truly do him proud. I won’t let him down.
In a few short days I will test decades of dedication to the perfection of a single wrestling maneuver. My future career will be defined by this moment. Sink or swim, we're in for one titanic collision. The waters may be rough, the tide is high, but I'm holding on. And with the CHIKARMY as my mates on this voyage, I predict...smooth sailing.
-AR