An Open Letter To Saber. What do you want to be, Saber? You say you want to be a legend. You say you want to treat this industry with respect. I don't doubt you. Not for a single moment. I firmly believe that it's been your life-long goal to become a professional wrestler and to excel within the sport. I firmly believe that you do hold the so-called "legends" of this industry in high esteem. I don't doubt that you lap up every single "lesson" Brian Clark has to teach you, in spite of the fact that his own legendary status has been proclaimed by his imagination. Saber, what I want to do is warn you. To do you a public service. And STOP. I can already hear you reading this, calling me Janis Crapshopper and trying to think of an Australian animal you can use to mock me. I implore you, Saber, to shut up and pay attention. What I have to say will resonate with you more profoundly than anything Brian Clark has told you. Here it is, Saber: You want to be a legend in this industry? Why? I'm sure when you were growing up you saw the sparkly, sweaty men on TV and you were overcome with the glamour of it all. You were drawn to the spectacle, the drama, the undeniably homosexual undertones. You saw these men you were told were "stars" being lauded by thousands of people and all at once your insecurities and self-esteem issues and violent tendencies came together in a big bang of revelation: You should become a wrestler. It's an understandable dream, Saber. One that any child would have if their parents were irresponsible enough to expose them to such viewing. But it was more than a child's dream for you, wasn't it Saber? It became an obsession. A compulsion. I look at you and I don't doubt that you've never taken steroids. I'd say that was me being naive but I've been in this business too long for that to be the case. You're the real deal. A proper athlete. You took the dream from inside that child's mind and turned it into reality. You worked hard. You trained. You ate right and stayed away from the vices that usually take a hold of men your age. You travelled the globe honing your skill, determined to become the best at your profession. And now here you are in The Wrestling Domain. A so-called "legend in the making". You've talked the talk and so far you're walk has backed it up. Make no mistake, Saber: Going on the evidence you've provided so far, you are a legend in the making. But my question remains: Why? When your dream started, you were a child. You were an innocent boy gawking at a TV screen watching men fight. You were impressed. I reiterate: that's understandable. But you grew. You became a teenager and now, despite what trash-talking etiquette may indicate I should say, you grew up to become a man. An adult. And yet through all these transformations, you never once stopped to observe the industry. You never took in the lessons dealt down by the former heroes of the business which, ironically, now that you're fully ensconced in it, you finally are. You are a life-long fan of the industry and yet you remained ignorant to the issues plaguing it. The issues that cause my utter disdain for it. You grew up and trained as men died in their thirties and forties just years after appearing on global pay-per-view. You marched steadfast into this industry while copious others within it fell into depression and addiction. You held your head down and kept lifting weights and boxing punching bags, completely unaware of the lessons being taught by the ever-growing body count around you. And yet now you choose to respect the "legends" and take Brian Clark's "lessons" with a gaping mouth. All because you want to be a legend. And again, Saber, I ask: Why? As a grown up, fully aware human being, what is it about the wrestling industry that still appeals to you? Is it the violence? Are you so sick and twisted that you get off on causing injury to other men? If so, I implore you to take a good look at yourself and the world around you. Ask yourself: what good does violence do? The answer, should you choose to be honest with yourself (and it seems that's not a strong point with you, but go along with me for argument's sake) is "none." Violence is a core problem within humanity and yet you choose to belong to a business that doesn't just exhibit violence but actively glorifies it. And yeah, I bet you're thinking, "Hey, that's a bit rich coming from the Virtuoso of Violence". Well that's true but there's a very simple difference between my moniker and actions and those of the other men in this industry. My nickname "The Virtuoso of Violence" stems from my past. It's a relic of a time when I didn't see this business for the abyss it truly is. Why do I persist on using it, you ask? Simple. That nickname has come to be associated with the success I've had in wrestling and as much as I detest being known as a Virtuoso of Violence, I recognize that my net-worth goes up when that moniker is applied to me. It affords me instant name recognition. It improves my brand. And as I plan to spend as little time as possible in The Wrestling Domain, I felt it necessary to use all the tools that will quicken my rise to the Main Event and expediate an increase in salary. I use the nickname just as I use TWD as a horrid means to a justifiable an honorable end: the future of my family. And as it pertains to me actually committing acts of violence? I'm not a hypocrite, Saber. I'll readily admit that I can be quite sadistic in the confines of a wrestling match. My use of the tire iron in the Parking Lot Brawl proves this. The difference between you and me, Saber, is that I don't revel in the violence I commit. I, unlike everybody else in TWD, am not a barbarian. When I leave the ring after beating an opponent, I don't feel joy nor satisfaction. I feel sick. Sick, not just because I've further enhanced an industry I despite, but also because I deplore violence. I'm good at it, no doubt, but I deplore it. That's why I refuse to let my child watch wrestling. It's why I ask my wife not to. Wrestling is a bad influence and I will not let it taint my family like so many other (bad) parents do. I'm a good father, Saber. Perhaps if you'd had one like me, you wouldn't have grown into the misguided man you are today. And yet, I don't think it is the violence that causes you to gravitate to this industry, Saber. I think it's the competition. The thrill of the chase. The quest to prove yourself better than other men. And honestly, I think that's quite sad. Me? I have no need to prove myself better than other men. I simply am better. Back when I actually cared about wrestling, I beat every opponent put before me. I had the respect amongst the fans and boys that you so desperately crave, Saber, and let me tell you, it means nothing. This feeling of superiority you chase, whether it stems from childhood issues or low self-esteem, it cannot be sated by wrestling. Because at the end of the day, you may beat everyone on the roster and be superior in the wrestling world but you'll still be inferior to every single person who sees this business for the quagmire it is. That's why, even if you defeat me on Tuesday night, I'll still be your superior. It's not the only reason why but it's a reason. If I may digress for a minute, I'd like to address your comments that I'm yet another has-been. Another washed up veteran who can't say goodbye to the business. Firstly: If I'm washed up, how come I'm yet to be beaten? Secondly, I've made it more than clear that I want nothing more than to say goodbye to this industry once and for all. The only reason I returned is because, given my reputation and name recognition, I can make more money wrestling for one year than I could doing anything else. It's merely a matter of convenience or in my case, inconvenience. I don't know how much clearer I can make this for you. But let's get back on point. You. Saber, let's just say you achieve everything you dream of in this business. What will that all mean? You'll be a legend in an industry the civilized world scornfully mocks. You'll be respected in an industry nobody respects. You'll be a hero to children who will go on to emulate you and continue the cycle of violence this industry thrives on. Sure, in the little vacuum you call "wrestling" you'll be a success but to anybody whose opinion actually matters, you'll just be another steroid-enhanced simpleton who spends his days yelling into cameras and rolling around half-naked with other dudes. And that's your dream. That's your best case scenario. And while you deludedly cling to the trivial little empire you've created, I'll be at home with my family. Free from injuries. Free from hectic road schedules and the never-ending series of boring flights. Free from the slack-jawed, innebriated masses that make up our audience. Free from the testosterone-fuelled halfwits that make up the roster. Free from the politicking, the infighting, the petty jealousies and violent outbursts. I'll be free of it all and the whole time you'll still be bouncing from town to town losing blood, sweat and years of your life trying to pop the crowd. You'll be wearing your "legend" badge as if it entitles you to special treatment and you'll fall apart when the business you've dedicated your entire life to inevitably discards you because you're too old or fat or ugly. And yet you'll still crave the spotlight, the adoration of the fans, so you'll start wrestling in high school gymnasiums and dingy training facilities. Still trying to pop that crowd. Still trying to recreate the energy and adrenaline you felt when you were just starting out. You'll sign autographs for an ever-decreasing crowd of "fans" as they ask you about that time you wrestled Jamie Krenshaw back in 2009. And you'll tell them stories for as long as they'll listen. The same kind of embellished crap you're currently hearing from Brian Clark. And all the while, I'll be at home with my loving wife, my child and my dignity. But, hey, you'll still be a legend. And you'll pretend that means something but it doesn't, Saber. Nothing at all. You say you have nothing to lose at Showdown, Saber. I contest that it is I who have nothing to lose. You see, win lose or draw, I still have a jetpack tied to me and I'm rocketing to the top of the card and eventually out of this business. Meanwhile, you, should you win (SPOILER ALERT: you won't) will be well on your way to become the legend you aspire to be. And what does that mean? It means everything I've outlined for you. Because once you've set out on your journey you'll be unable to turn back. You'll crave more success and in your never-ending quest to attain it, you'll be swallowed up, digested and shat out by this business. And me? I'll be opening Christmas presents with my family. I'll be enjoying my child's birthday parties. I'll be enjoying my wife's devotion. And yet you say you have nothing to lose? I disagree, Saber, because, in reality, you have nothing to win. And that makes you the biggest loser of all.

Your superior.