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The Ivy League

January 02, 2003
Poison Ivy

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Staff Photo

January 3, 2002
12:01 AM
Queens, NY

I'm not one to mince words.

Fuck you, Eron.

I'll be honest, I wasn't much of an fWo fan back in the day. After just over a year, the spring of 1998 gave Eli and I the rarest of the rare - a genuine second chance in a major promotion. The CSWA had reopened just about the time Eli was medically cleared to wrestle again.

And after being one of the most promising up- and- comers from 1994 to 1997... you bet your ass we were back to work. CSWA. MWC/EWI. HEW. EWA. They were running a show, goddamn we're on it. The fWo had plenty of talent and Team Extreme had very limited time by then, so we didn't even acknowledge each other. It worked out well for both of us until last fall when Eli, Sean and I made this promotion our home.

So you can imagine my reaction on November 27, 2002 when Terry and Penny were interrupted by Eron. Eli, Sean, Paul and I were watching on a monitor backstage when the song started.

"Hey Paul... who's this fucktard?"

"How much time you got, Ivy?"

Sure, I'd heard the stories but I didn't connect them until he said his name. And while I certainly didn't condone the way he pissed all over one of the genuinely great moments of this business, I was optimistic about a more old- school fWo veteran making his return - look at what men like Strangler and Slugger, to name a few, have done since the reopening.

For thinking that.... I apologize. The past month of Eron-TV have been some of the sorriest segments I've ever had the utter disdain to be a part of. Putting us on notice?

WHO are you again?

No, that's really not fair. You screwed Frenchie. You changed the course of the fWo. You gave the World Title to Dead and the FtfWo and at Cyberslam he destroyed things.

You really changed things.

Until Paul Revere Adams got his own form of Redemption.

And you....

What else exactly have you done?

No, no, no.... that's not fair. You've probably done some incredible things in this sport. You ran Jolt Wre.... no. Well, you were a big star in that Toronto.... no.

I'm rackin' my brain here, Eron.... because there's gotta be something you've done for professional wrestling as a sport that justifies that promo you cut near the end of Countdown to Oblivion 1. Something that gave you the right to take everything that Ruben Ross, Eli Flair, Scott Slugger, Donaven Winters, Erik Kelly, and the rest of us by default.... and wipe your ass with it.

How dare you, Eron.

How DARE you.

You get fired for drug possession and the fWo survived. You tried to carry Jolt in direct opposition and failed. More than once, even. You came back in as part of the fWo Board so you could backdoor your way back into the company and find out who stooged y'off.

Fine. You did your business with Wretch, good for you. Just don't pretend you're anything special.

And don't think for a fucking minute you're going to come in here as a man who has a.... checkered.... track record as a draw, and tell anyone that what they're doing is wrong.

Because let me tell you something, sonny... your bullshit posturing of pain as an art form? See, you can make money on that because of the work that men like Erik Kelly, Eli Flair, Mike Randalls... dare I say it, even GUNS put in years before you paid some sixty year old man a thousand bucks to learn your craft.

Are you good? The tapes of old seem to say you know your craft. The tapes of old seem to say you can make a crowd hate you just by smiling at them. The tapes of old certainly seem to justify at least SOME of the ego you drag around by your pretty lil' scar.

But the tapes of old show the same qualities - even moreso - in the men you called out at Countdown.

The tapes of new show a very rusty Eron. An Eron who wants to recreate those moments without realizing that he can't. Those days are done, Eron. You've got a new cast of athletes who aren't about to put up with the shit you pulled in the old days.

And you've got a very pissed off writer/manager right here who doesn't appreciate the way her fight for respect in this business was trivialized by a prima donna with SUCH a pretty lil' scar.

While you accuse the stars of today of going through the motions, Eli Flair and Ruben Ross were busy setting a new standard for what a no holds barred wrestling match is all about.

While you claim the year 2002 is ending with a whimper, the fWo, in spirit, body, and soul, proved just how fucking tough it is.

While you wait for your moment to make an example out of everyone who has the audacity to make you look boring... the entire company will be doing just that.

Surprise everyone, Eron... and do something innovative yourself. Surprise everyone and work for what you claim you deserve.

You want us to make you king, Eron? Fine.

Fucking earn it.

Until then, it's January 3, 2003. Stop trying to party like it's 1999. Hah, I'm so witty.

And by the way... Fuck you, Eron.

This is Ivy.