I write this letter to you as a matter of professional courtesy, which is something I’m sure you will need to look up in the dictionary, as after our recent encounter, I seriously doubt you have any idea you know what it means.
This past Saturday, I was asked to attend the WSU show in Union City, New Jersey, to honor the WSU champion, Mercedes Martinez. As you are very well aware, Mercedes has been atop of the WSU roster since she won the title back in May of 2008. Now whom did she beat for that belt? I just had the name on the tip of my tongue a moment ago. Oh, that’s right, she beat you. So you should be very familiar with that match indeed.
Back to the point, however. The night was supposed to be about Mercedes. PWI was asked to come and present WSU’s Woman of the Year award to Ms. Martinez, I was to say a few kind words, and all would be well. But that wasn’t okay with you, was it?
I had a feeling from the moment you entered the ring during Mercedes’ acceptance speech that things wouldn’t continue to go so smoothly. When you grabbed the mike and started directing your frustrations toward me, I was sure the evening would be ruined.
While I’m normally a very attentive, patient, and laidback person, hearing you yammer on and on about how your All Guts, No Glory title needed to be recognized by not only WSU, but by PWI as well, well that really struck a bad chord with me. Look, any kid who’s cut enough lawns can save up to buy a belt and start proclaiming him or herself a champion as well. Doesn’t mean we, or anyone, has to acknowledge it.
As you continued spouting off your career accomplishments, which I will be the first to admit are rather impressive, my frustration at your audacity to come in the ring and steal Mercedes’ spotlight, not to mention my time, continued to grow.
Sure, I may have turned my back on you a few times. Maybe I checked my phone to see the score of the TCU vs. Utah college football game. Certainly I stopped listening more than halfway through.
Regardless of what I did, it does not excuse your actions that followed.
When you placed your hands on me and began ranting and raving about how you were going to “drop me” and “rip me apart” until you got your way, I knew you were out of your mind.
When I heard head WSU official Ray Sager yell to you to stop, I thought, Finally, someone is taking control of this mad woman. As WSU conceded to your threats in fear of my safety (and, more likely, a possible lawsuit), I was very pleased to have you let go of me, and get as far away from me as possible. But when you came back in my face, taunting me, delivering a painful knee to my stomach, and throwing me to the ground, that is when you crossed a line that should never be crossed.
Let’s get something straight, Ms. Orsini, I’m not a trained fighter. Much like The Thomas Jefferson Building at the Library of Congress, “The Pen Is Mightier” has been firmly engraved in my foundation. What does picking on me prove? That you, a trained combatant, can take down a kid who hasn’t been in a fight since Dan Martin tried to steal my lunch money in 5th grade? Well, cheers to you.
The real travesty of this whole thing, Ms. Orsini, is that WSU officials did what they felt they had to for my safety (by the way, I do appreciate that) and now the AGNG title is officially recognized. But was that the right thing to do?
Caving in to—well let’s call it what it was—your terroristic threats was a huge mistake on their part. They’ve set a horrible precedent that undermines every ethic the company stands for.
As for me, anytime I’m asked to appear at a ceremony, I’m going to have to request bodyguards at my side in case some wrestler feels they can have their way with the magazine’s editorial policy through me. Believe me, Ms. Orsini and anybody else who might have a similar idea, PWI cares more about its journalistic principles than they do me. And that’s not a joke.
I’ve already let the WSU front office know I have no interest in pressing legal action against you or the promotion itself. I don’t see any reason to put both our companies through the anguish of a drawn-out court battle. Besides, after taking one of your hits personally, I have no doubt it will only be a short matter of time before someone much tougher comes along to put you in your place.
With that all said, Ms. Orsini, congratulations on having WSU recognize your championship belt. I hope you had fun displaying it around backstage on Saturday night while I was being cared for by medical personnel. But I want you to know something: While I may not be the final word in recognizing titles, I certainly have a very big vote. And as long as I am here, I will do everything in my power to make sure that hunk of metal you call a championship belt never gets recognized by the PWI family of magazines.
To me, Ms. Orsini, you will always be the kid down the street who cut some lawns over the summer, saved up some cash, bought a belt, and started calling herself a champion. And believe me, that takes absolutely no guts, and even less honor.
Jeff Ruoss Managing Editor Pro Wrestling Illustrated