The NWA:South East; Fighting to survive.

[wrestlingsuicide]

The waitress winks at me, the fucking whore. She looked like a crossbreed between a horse and a cow. What the fuck was I doing here. the place was a shithole dump, and I was sitting down waiting for someone.

The names Rick, Rick Thomas. I'm thirty years old, six feet, two inches, average build, brown hair, green eyes. And I'm a FUCKING booker.

It's been a couple of years since I last associated myself with the business. I haven't stepped into a ring since 2003, since the incident. I used to be one of the big shots backstage up in NWA: East Coast. I was head booker, and was second in command to Vince McMahon. That was until I fucked it up. Correction, until my dick fucked it up.

She was some hot piece of ass. The bitch came on to me every single day. It didn't matter that her husband was only a few dressing rooms away. I tried to tell her that what she wanted was completely insane. I wasn't going to risk my job over some piece of tail. But in the end, she got her way. And I got fired. Fuck Stephanie McMahon. The irony was that I did. That kniving bitch. I bet she and Paul Levesque planned it from day one. In the end, I got beat up by Levesque and his goons, got slapped with a sexual harrasment suit, got my ass chewed off by Vince, and was promptly fired from the company.

Rule #1: Never fuck the boss's daughter.

So, I got myself different gigs during the past two years. Found myself small-time jobs with seedy movie-makers. Wrote a couple of scripts for some B-flicks that you wouldn't even know about.

Then, three weeks ago, I got a call. It was Bill fucking Watts. He was talking about opening up a brand new organization under the NWA umbrella. 'Aren't there enough, already?' I thought to myself. Ninety percent of all wrestling in the continental united states was under the NWA. Watts goes ahead with his pitch, he was opening a new wrestling federation based in the Georgia area. Told me that he was going to call it NWA: South East. Wow, so much for creativity. Watts gives me an offer, an offer to go back to the business that I grew up in. And I flat out turn him down. No way, I told him. He'd better go out and fucking look for another monkey to play to his tune. I cut him off mid-sentence and hang up. I needed sleep, and talking about wrestling certainly didn't help.

The next day, I got up from bed... and whaddya know... Bill Watts was there. The motherfucker was standing right at the door to my bedroom, and he had a couple of goons with him. Big motherfuckers. Big motherfuckers with baseball bats. Watts calmly offers me the head-booking job, again... and adds an incentive: If I help him get NWA:SE to where he wants it to be, he won't break my kneecaps. not only that... but I had to put up some money for the company. Not much of a choice I had, now did I? I ask him what the fuck he wanted me to do. He simply tells me this: To help run the McMahon's out of business. Was I in? Oh yeah. FUCK yes. I wasn't a dumb schmuck. I wanted to WALK out of my bed. I was in.

Rule #2: Never say no to big motherfuckers with baseball bats who threaten to break your fucking kneecaps.

The past three weeks have gone by like a blur. We have NO wrestlers signed. And we're basically running on a skeleton staff. Thank God that our first event's still four weeks away. I've been talking to the other guy with me in the booking team, another guy that NWA: EC fired... Terry Taylor. I would suppose it had somethig to do with him screwing Stephanie as well, but I'm not going to assume anything. He tells me that he's in talks with most of the guys he worked with back in East Coast, and tells me that I should start talking to my contacts as well.

Contacts? What contacts? Everyone fucking deserted me when I got fired. Fucking Stephanie McMahon cried her eyes out as she went through every sordid detail. How I fucking touched her, and harrassed her. She gladly left out the fact that she was the bitch who locked the door, and that we did the dirty deed at MY house afterwards. Everyone rode the bandwagon... "FUCK THOMAS!" they said. "FUCK THAT FUCKING PRICK!" No good suck-ups. Leeches, that's what they all were. Everyone was looking to get ahead... and if it meant having to bury me, it wasn't a problem.

And so... it all boils down to today. Bill Watts tells me that we DO have one wrestler on the books. One of the guys who's put money up front to help the NWA:SE get rolling. So far, the only people I know who've shelled out a considerable amount of dough are Watts, Taylor and me. I'm sitting at a table in a local restaurant in Atlanta. The place was a complete shithole. It was a dump, and it was pretty obvious that Watts had wanted me to wait my ass off inside that smelly dump. Watts thought it might be funny to actually make me WAIT. Brilliant.

Rule #3: Never EVER agree to meet with someone in a smelly piece of shit restaurant.

I wait for twenty minutes, before I decide to get up and leave. As I was standing up, I hear a familiar voice from behind me.

"Well, well, well. It's been a long time, asshole. Too damn long. Sorry I'm late."

I turn around, hoping... no PRAYING for it to be someone else. FUCK. GODDAMN SHIT. It was Shane FUCKING Douglas.

[wrestlingsuicide]

Shane Douglas.

Troy Martin.

The Dean.

The Messiah.

The Franchise.

The one man who's character revived wrestling in the late 90's.

The man that I systematically screwed out of the NWA: East Coast.

See, back in the mid-to-late 90's, wrestling was in a completely low ebb. Ratings were down. Attendance barely made the shows profitable. Many NWA affiliates closed down. Only three NWA federations were left standing, the NWA: East Coast, NWA: Texas and the NWA: Calgary Stampede. I was just part of the booking team for East Coast, I was a young guy out to make an impact in the business. So was this guy... some guy by the name of Troy Martin.

Believe me when I tell you that Troy Martin was the WHOLE fucking package. He had the looks, the microphone skills, and the ringwork. He was being groomed as the NEXT BIG THING in East Coast. Heck, the people at Texas and Calgary Stampede were already drooling at being able to sign Martin's talent to open contracts with them.

In 1997, Troy Martin made his debut. As "The Dean" Douglas. Lame gimmick? I know. I gave it to him. This smug kid was too cocky for his own good. And I wanted to sabotage his fucking career. Yeah, I'm a heartless bastard. Sue me.

He gets stuck in several, and I mean SEVERAL horrible angles. I give him ridiculous outfits, bland scripts and completely asinine plots. And somehow, Troy Martin still rose above the rest of the muck in East Coast. The fans knew that he was IT. He had IT. He was destined for greater things.

That's when Vince stepped in. He gave Martin a chance to prove himself, to MAKE himself. So, in a half-shoot interview, "The Dean" ripped at the backstage politicians, the wrestlers who weren't hauling ass, and the writers who wrote his scripts. I knew he was talking about me. I could see the fucking scorn in his eyes, I could hear it in his voice. "The Messiah" Shane Douglas was born. He was immediately put into a feud with "Hollywood" Hulk Hogan. As "The Messiah", Troy Martin took the wrestling world by the balls, and squeezed. He squeezed hard. EVERYONE ate it up.

For the first time in a long time, the TV Ratings for East Coast were up. For the first time in a long time, people were actually watching. McMahon saw this as an opporunity to make tons of cash. Apparently the half-shoot, half-shock strategy worked really well, and he told us to apply this to EVERY storyline he had.

After a 6-month long TV Feud with Hogan, Douglas was moved into the Main Event against Shawn Michaels. And THAT was basically the beginning of the end for "The Messiah". Shawn Michaels and his friends, the backstage "clique", simply refused to be outdone by Troy Martin. And I was in on their fun. We started by taking out his fanbase. We quickly tuned his edgy character into a baby-face pop-hungry freak. At first the fans ate it up... the anti-hero was now the hero... but then it grew stale. The 'clique'... Michaels, Nash, HHH... they became the East Coast's definition of 'cool'. And when his fanbase died down, we just took Douglas out peg by peg. The motherfucker didn't stand a chance. We set him up with feuds against the clique members, and had him LOSE, and lose BADLY.

When it was apparent that he had no future in East Coast, Douglas tried jumping to Stampede and Texas. Well, thanks to a couple of phone calls about his "alcohol and drug problems" and his "unmanageability as an employee", he didn't get squat. The enthusiasm for "The Messiah" dried up.

But, as all winners are, Troy Martin was a survivor. He promptly quit the East Coast and burnt a LOT of bridges. In 2000, Shane Douglas made an appearance on the newly formed NWA: Hardcore City, run by Paul Heyman. There, he went out on a shoot tirade against the East Coast, Calgary Stampede and Texas. If you think he burned his bridges back then... FUCK, he completely TORCHED anything left when he came out on HC with that interview. "The Franchise" was born. He took that company, and put it on his fucking back for two years. Until his ego got the best of him. Asking for an unreasonable amount of money to resign, Douglas had worn out his welcome in Hardcore City. After exchanging harsh words, and engaging in a small scuffle, he and Heyman parted with a mutual hatred for each other. Hardcore City had established itself as a fucking good product, and "The Franchise" was no longer needed... not for the salary he was asking. And now, NOT EVER.

Since then, I heard little from Troy Martin. Shane Douglas. THE MESSIAH. THE FRANCHISE. Yeah, I screwed him out of East Coast. BIG FUCKING DEAL. GET OVER IT. Cry me a fucking river, why don't you. He knew his time was up.

The only problem now... is that I never expected it to haunt me. DAMN IT. Karma sure was a BITCH.

"Well, asshole. Seems like you and me, we're going to be working together again."

Douglas' eyes bore down on me as he chugged his beer. I smiled, as an insult, before I spoke.

"Well, whoop-de-fucking-doo, Troy. I didn't know you were still alive. What've you been doing the past two years? Flipping burgers?"

Douglas had the perfect retort. GODDAMN IT. I shouldn't have set that up.

"Nah. I see you haven't been doing well yourself. How was dear old Stephanie? Was she really that good in the sack? First you help them screw me. Then you screw her. And then they screw you. Fucking pathetic isn't it?"

Douglas grins as he says this. He's fucking enjoying this. I snap back.

"Fuck you. That bitch was all over me like white on rice."

"No, Rick. FUCK YOU. Fuck YOU and your arrogant bitch-ass self, you fucking prick. I ain't enjoying this either, but since we're here, we might as well fucking make it work."

I shut the hell up. He was right. THE MOTHERFUCKER WAS RIGHT. We were now on the same boat. And if SouthEast didn't float, we were going down with it. Fuck.

We spent the next thirty minutes talking about who we thought we could approach to join South East. The two men who BURNED their bridges in the wrestling world, looking for men who'd follow them to hell and back. NOW THAT WAS FUCKING FUNNY. FUCKING HILARIOUS.

We we're ROYALLY FUCKED, and we FUCKING TOTALLY KNEW it.

Edited July 6, 2005 by wrestlingsuicide

[Agent Risktaker]

I'm enjoying the backstory so far. I can't wait to see where this goes, so keep it up and I'll check back in tomorrow.

[wrestlingsuicide]

Do you have any idea how many people are willing to work with Shane Douglas? Hell, with me? Not a fucking lot. We had to look long and hard in the state of Georgia, and even then we were only going to find a handful of promising talent. This was going to be fucking hard.

So, Douglas and I spent the night in the restaurant... apparently we decided to bury the hatchet, and we shook on it. Fat fucking chance. The motherfucker would stab me in the back no sooner than I would him. It was going to be tough to fucking track down and hire people. Goddamn it.

The very next day, I wake up with a horrible headached. I need a fucking aspirin. Make that twenty. Goddamn. I manage to find the strength to get out of bed and take a long cold shower. I call Terry Taylor up. We had to have a meet. I wasn't going to contact talent all by myself. And besides, Taylor was a much more sociable person. Everyone knew me as the 'stupid motherfucker who fucked Vince's daughter'. That label alone should prevent anyone from actually even recognizing my presence.

Terry shows up at the designated meeting place. A run down coffee shop in downtown Atlanta. Fuck. Why did we have to choose the seediest places in the fucking city. Come on. We were running a fucking wrestling company. I'm going to make sure to pick a classier spot next time around.

Taylor gives me a rundown of who we was on his list. Michael Verde, Johnny Kashmer, Jason Broyles and Elix Skipper. I know these names. I know these people. They were talented, yes, but will they appreciate working with Troy Martin? I certainly thought they would... after-all, we're giving them a chance when the rest of the fucking NWA world wouldn't.

Verde and Kashmer were two young up-and-coming stars in NWA: Texas. They had the personas of Trent Acid and Johnny Kashmere... the Backseat Boyz. Somehow or the other, they were constantly overlooked. They were eventually buried down the card, and soon were completely off the regular events. I ask Taylor if these two guys were still in NWA: Texas. He says no. Apparently Kashmer botched a move that broke some new guy's neck. The new guy turned out to be the son of one of the financial backers of NWA: Texas. The Backseat Boyz's bright future suddenly went down the drain.

Jason Broyles... I only saw this guy wrestle once. At an NWA:Hardcore City show. He was known as Jason Jett back then... and he rocked the fucking house. Terry then tells me that Broyles was never given a fair shake in HC, that Heyman stiffed him some paychecks and that he had fired Broyles without paying him a single dime. Good. That's one fucking guy who'll gladly ride the Shane Fucking Douglas bandwagon. They're going to have a lot to talk about in the next couple of weeks.

As for Elix Skipper. Mr. Black Magic himself. He was signed to a developmental contract with East Coast. But we never called him up. As talented as he was, there were only limited spots for ethnic minorities in Vince McMahon's fucking circus.

What? You thought that racial prejudice ended in the sixties? Hell fucking no.

Vince would rather have a million heart attacks than have some racial minority win the top title in East Coast. That's why he drove Dwayne Johnson out of the company back in 2000. The goddamn racist pig didn't want to elevate "The Rock" to the highest position in the card... world champ... because he was a fucking neo-nazi racist pig. He had to screw Johnson out of a title match, and all that brouhaha... the "New York Screwjob" as most in the industry remember. Fucking Earl Hebner calling for the tap out. Shawn fucking Michaels retaining the fucking title. Everyone knew that the plan was for Johnson to fucking win. Even I didn't know what the fuck was going on. One day later, Johnson was off to NWA: Hawaii, and McMahon had one large-ass black eye to boot. McMahon capitalized on it... fucking capitalist mother fucker. Like what he did to Douglas' angle, not only do shoot interviews fucking dominate the East Coast, but shoot fights as well. He'll bait and switch like a motherfucker just to get the fans drooling.

Back to Skipper. We let him go back in East Coast. He told us to kiss his black ass, and went over to NWA: Arial Arts. There, he found a niche. He was good, he was damn good. When his contract was up, however, AA just let him go. For no fucking apparent reason. Life was a fucking bitch. The wierd thing was... nobody even cared signing him up. I wonder why. Jesus. He must have horrible BO or something. Taylor tells me that he was thinking of putting Skipper into the Main Event with Douglas. I look at him with complete surprise.

Is he FUCKING serious? Douglas and Skipper in the Main Event? Douglas would have a fucking HEART ATTACK. HE'D SHIT BRICKS. Skipper was twenty times the wrestler that Douglas was, and it was going to be fun to watch Douglas being run around in circles by Skipper. That brought a smile to my fucking face. IT WAS TOO FUCKING GREAT TO PASS UP. I give Taylor a nod and a grin.

"Yeah. That's a FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC idea, Terry. FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC!"

[wrestlingsuicide]

August 1, 2005

Black Monday.

The day that the entire wrestling world shifted.

The National Wrestling Alliance just passed a resolution, for the individual companies to be able to sign any performer to a written contract, without consultation from the other organizations.

Fan-FUCKING-tastic. The shockwaves could be felt all throughout the god-damn wrestling world.

The first to act was NWA: East Coast. The clique, Shawn Michaels, Kevin Nash, Scott Hall, Jean Paul Levesque and Sean Waltman managed to accomplish the unthinkable, they convinced the braintrust at Stamford to let go of Hollywood Hulk Hogan. Everybody knew that Hogan's grip on East Coast had loosened, once he let Michaels and his troops take over. And then, the spending spree. McMahon spared no federation as he scooped up stars. Raven, Aj Styles, Lita, Jerry Lynn, Kid Kash, Chavo Guerrero, Christopher Daniels. And the coup de gras... Jeff Fucking Jarrett inking a maximum deal with East Coast. The fucking judas left NWA: Texas for McMahon's East Coast. It sent a clear message... that East Coast was THE place to be.

Fuck them.

Calgary Stampede went on a more conservative route. Knowing that their main stars were already under written contracts, they went out and got three guys. Sabu, Chris Harris and Ron Killings.

NWA: Athletic Arts, NWA: Los Angeles, NWA: Detroit Michigan and NWA: Strong Style all started sending open-contract offers to young guys... young guys with enough talent to put on a good show, but not over enough to be snatched by the big three.

Speaking of the big three... the last of them, NWA: Texas, was left with a huge void to fill, specially after Jeff Jarrett high-tailed it out of there. Texas signed Glenn Gilberti, Carlito Colon, CM Punk, Hoyler Gracie, LA Par-K, Athletic Arts' Shane Helms and as a coup de etat of their own, East Coast's Mick Foley. But still... all that talent signed... did NOT, and I fucking mean did NOT have the weight of fucking Jeff Jarrett signing with fucking East Coast.

Mick Foley. The human pincushion. The guy invented HARDCORE. He fucking lived and breathed it. After having his right hand amputated after a horrible accident involving barbed wire and a flaming branding iron while wrestling for the defunct NWA: Eastern Championship Wrestling... well... Foley became a fucking urban legend. He WAS THE God of hardcore wrestling. I hate the prick. He's a self-absorbed egomaniac that just so happens to have the public's fucking good side. They don't know the real Mick Foley. They don't know him at all.

As for NWA: ECW? They bottomed out before their first televised PPV. What was born after, was NWA: Hard Core. And after Black Monday, Heyman showed a sign of weakness. He didn't have enough cash reserves to pay his guys. Soon, we hear that most of his wrestlers... wrestlers who have nowhere else to go, wrestlers who aren't going to be recognized by any of the big three... have been released. Rob Van Dam. Stevie Richards. D-Von Dudley. Bubba Ray Dudley. Spike Dudley. Rhyno. Tajiri. Mike Awesome. Most of the guys were replaced by lower-salary hardcore bastards who knew how to wield a chair. But the biggest blow... was Raven being stolen by East Coast. Snatched up with the lure of big bucks. Vince Fucking Dollar Bills McMahon.

Where was I during Black Monday? I was at home. SLEEPING. Because my fucking head hurt. And now, I'm going back to FUCKING sleep. Shit.

[wrestlingsuicide]

I understand that I've been talking about the NWA... but I don't think you know what the NWA is... shit.

The National Wrestling Alliance. A fucking group of territorial wrestling promotions formed under on umbrella... the NWA. It's really simple. the entire fucking wrestling world is covered by the NWA. If you're not a part of the NWA, then you're either from Japan, or you're not even big enough to consider.

The NWA is dominated by the big three.

THE BIG FUCKING THREE.

The three largest NWA promotions in the American continent.

They all survived the fucking wrestling depression in the mid-90's. They grew big in the wrestling boom of the late 90's. They are the top organizations in the NWA.

NWA: EAST COAST

Established: 1992

Size: National

Run by the legendary McMahon family. The man who fathered WrestleMania. Vincent Kennedy McMahon Jr. The man-genius. The bastard who risked it all and lost it all in one fell swoop. After the initial success of the WrestleMania, Vince McMahon went for WrestleMania 2, THREE months after the first. And then, a consecutive four other WrestleManias with three months in between. Needless to say, the fucking idea flopped. Each show cost a fortune to run, and the returns were not favorable. Had McMahon listened to the poeple around him, he would've probably run the NWA out of business... but McMahon was, and always has been a greedy bastard. Wrestlemania 6 ran him to the ground, the WWF was in debt, and eventually he was forced to close the damn company.

But Vince was a crafty businessman. Knowing that he'd lost to the regional promotions, he went out and established a regional promotion of his own, under the NWA banner. Working out of New York City, NWA: East Coast embraced the style that McMahon used to present... cartoonish and over-the-top characters, glitz and glamour and all the like.

The stars? Until recently, it was Hulk Hogan. Mr. Everything. Mr. Me, Me, Me. But after Black Monday... Shawn fucking Michaels and Triple H. The clique. Nash, Hall... and all the other McMahon suck-ups.

I began my career by writing for them. I was there when thy hit their stride in the late 90's with the introduction of SHOCK-booking. Then I rose to the top after several fucking brilliant moves. I fucking gave up a ton of shit just to reach the top at East Coast. See where it got me. Motherfuckers.

NWA: CALGARY STAMPEDE

Established: 1995

Size: National

If there was one fucking company I wouldn't work for... it would be the Calgary fucking Stampede. Stu Hart's brainchild. The fucker's like 190 years old and still kicking.

The one rule in NWA:CS? Wrestling first, gimmicks second.

Stu Hart was a slave-driver. His grip on Canada was strong. his Canadian Stampede organization quickly ate up three different territorial companies, and then they entered the NWA umbrella just to make sure that nobody would want to move in on them. Stu was lucky. The wrestling depression had just hit its lowest ebb... and when NWA:CS was established, most of the wrestling fans in Canada didn't even care what gimmicks their wrestlers used... as long as they fucking ruled in the ring.

They have what we call the "Holy Trinity". The heir to the kingdom, Bret Hart... the one-man-wrestling-machine Chris Benoit... and the most charismatic man in Canada, Chris Jericho. They spent the entire year of 1998 revolving a big-ass feud around these three men, and NWA:CS rose in popularity.

NWA:CS was a closely knit family of wrestlers, and anyone... ANYONE who even dared to leave that family, was practically black-listed for life.

NWA: TEXAS

Established: 1990

Size: National

When the AWA was on its death throes, Dusty Rhodes and Jerry Jarret managed to save the entire thing by declaring the company bankrupt, and falling back on their NWA ties. NWA: Texas was born.

In the early to mid-90's, Texas was THE promotion to beat. It was a throwback to the 1980's. Fucking rednecks and mullets... old school feuds... and old school matches. Guys like Ric Flair, Randy Savage and Mark Callaway thrived in the atmosphere and quickly rose to the top. Towards the late 90's, two men emerged as the men who would usher NWA:TX into the new millenium. Jeff Jarrett and "Stunning" Steve Austin. They used to be tag-team champions, until they were put in a major feud with each other. It ripped through the entire southern United States in 1998, and it rivaled the triple-threat feud of the holy Trinity by NWA:CS. Austin and Jarrett were catapulted into superstar status, and the rest was fucking history.

Jeff Jarrett, Judas Iscariot. Trading his legacy in TX for the big green dollar bills in East Coast. Vince fucking McMahon had his ways, and they worked. Motherfucker.

So there. The BIG FUCKING THREE.

I was in for a shitload of trouble in the next few months... and I knew that I would hear from these three soon... they don't appreciate competition... even from a low-ranking rookie promotion like South East. Fuck.

I was ready for anything. ANY-FUCKING-THING. I knew that they'd soon be knocking on our doors, and I was fucking ready. Goddamn it.

[wrestlingsuicide]

The current roster:

Shane Douglas, Elix Skipper, Jason Broyles, Michael Verde and Johnny Kashmer

[wrestlingsuicide]

As I walk into the old gym, I thought to myself. 'Now this is a fucking crappy gym.' Seriously. I mean, come on, even I'd cringe if I ever tried to take a piss in the joint. It's like you could catch all sorts of diseases in the place.

Terry Taylor is there to greet me. He's got several guys in the old ring in the middle of the gym. A couple of them are wrestling, while several other guys are outside, heckling and trying to provoke the guys in the ring to take the shit seriously. Whoa. Was that a standing senton? What the fuck? I immediately ask Taylor who the hell that kid was.

Derek Wylde, says Taylor. Some 20-year old Canadian kid who had some mad mat skills. The guy in the ring with him was his friend, Eric Young. I nudge Taylor, and nod towards a hot blonde at ringside. Terry smiles, apparently the piece of ass was Wylde's girlfriend. Angel Williams. I let out a long whistle. Terry walks towards the ring, I follow right behind him.

"Derek, Eric, Angel, I want you to meet Rick Thomas. He's the head booker for our promotion. You need anything, or want anything done concerning the event, you go to him."

Derek and Eric wave at me. Angel walks up and says hi. I take a good look at her. She was lean... buff to a point... but she was fucking smoking in the damn exercise get-up she was wearing. Nothing fancy... just a plain white shirt and track pants. She was sexy, in a non-girlish type of way. And nice eyes too. I extend my hand, and tell her that it was nice to meet her. I add a little wink, which I don't think she appreciated much. Figures. They were all fucking cockteases anyway.

Derek Wylde, Eric Young and Angel Williams

[Guest SquadBoy]

I'm in love with this diary. The first diary I really read, and followed. Very intresting.

[EWRFan]

I kinda like the whole fucking thing...reminds me of myself when I am a bad mood, I add fucking to everything I say. Other than that the story is interesting and I hope you keep this going for a long time to see it develop.

BOB FUCKING SAPP RULES MOTHERFUCKER!!

[wrestlingsuicide]

Between me and Shane Douglas, we didn't have that many friends in this business.

But the guy who hired us did. Bill Watts had some fucking clout in the NWA. Watts established NWA: Detroit Michigan, and was considered as one of the best fucking businessmen in the industry. Then, in an unexpected turn of events, the management staff who worked under him at NWA:DM turned on him. They staged a fucking coup and took Watts out of power. The NWA then decided in favor of Watts' former staff, and the rest was history. Despite the wrestlers at NWA: DM still willing to work for Watts, he left NWA:DM. Bill Watts remained in the business, working with NWA: Hardcore, NWA: Athletic Arts and NWA: Strong Style, but eventually, I guess he fucking wanted to run a company once again. Hence, the NWA: Southeast being opened.

Watts had a lot of contacts, and we were practically assured that we could share talent with NWA: Detroit Michigan, NWA: Hardcore, NWA: Athletic Arts and NWA: Strong Style. This was a very big plus for us, since we could then have inter-promotional matches in Southeast. Fucking good news.

Watts also brought in three more wrestlers for NWA: SE. Doug Basham and Robert Conway, former NWA: EC developmental talents. And Kenzo Suzuki, a fucking Jap who was looking to hit it big in the US after several unsuccessful runs with NWA: DM and NWA: EC.

Robert Conway, Doug Basham and Kenzo Suzuki

Edited July 10, 2005 by wrestlingsuicide

[Miami Vice]

The text is horrible. Please change it!

[Michael]

This is great, really great. Your telling it as if it was a story and your character within this diary is developing well before us. However, one thing I would advise against is too much "inter-promotional" bullshit - the odd match is fine, but you're some bad ass motherfucker who wants recognition for creating an exciting promotion with his own home grown talent. Don't let anybody else take credit for the certain popularity of your shows.

If I was you, I'd give Bob Sapp a Goldberg esque push.

And I'd give Lollipop a go to.

Solid shit so far my man, looking forward to more, and hopefully this can last as long and be as entertaining as your WCW was and is.

[wrestlingsuicide]

(OOC: Thanks for leaving your comments guys, as usual, it is much appreciated.)

I've talked about the big three... the National-rated promotions.

See, the NWA uses a system to rate its member promotions. Backyard, Small, Regional, Cult, National, and the one rating that's yet to be achieved... Global. So far, only the NWA: EC, NWA: CS and NWA: TX have been able to reach National. East Coast has the fucking biggest chances to make it to Global, though. Vince McMahon was a fucking bastard, but he was an intelligent bastard.

A promotion's rating will determine how much help that promotion will get from the NWA itself. So, you see, there's still a fucking pecking order when it comes to the damn feds.

Underneath the popularity of the three National promotions are the three "Cult" promotions. Somehow or the other, these promotions haven't been able to find the "oomph" to push them into National status, but they have enough underground support to actually survive outside the regionals.

NWA: MEXICO CITY

Established: 1994

Size: Cult

NWA: MC was established during one of the worst periods in wrestling, the mid-90's depression. But they survived through it because they provided a product that was in high demand from a limited, but loyal market. The lucha-libre promotion survived and Konnan practically made himself into one of the most popular men south of the border. He's run NWA:MC for the past three years, and has slowly integrated more "Caucasian" wrestlers to be able to infiltrate the American wrestling market. The MC's biggest stars are Rey Mysterio and Eddie Guerrero. Both of them fucking machines inside the ring. I'd never be caught dead working for a promotion in Mexico... fucking spics.

NWA: LOS ANGELES

Established: 1998

Size: Cult

After a contract dispute with Vince McMahon, Roddy Piper promptly quit the NWA: EC. He was the first fucking guy who really stood up to the Vinnie-Mac. Piper managed to convince several big-money inverstors to put their money into a promotion based in the West Coast... where wrestling was practically non-existent. Piper did a good job of selling, and was able to establish the NWA: LA. At first, it started as a promotion that took potshots at the NWA: EC, but then it developed an identity of its own. In 2001, Piper then sold the federation to current owner Rob Black, who changed the fucking format of the entire promotion. It soon echoed the "gangster" and gritty feel of urban Los Angeles. NWA: LA's most popular star is Jeff Hardy, who's developed a large underground following the past couple of years. Other stars include Booker T and Stevie Ray, the Harlem Heat.

NWA: STRONG STYLE

Established: 2001

Size: Cult

After being booted out of NWA: EC and NWA: HC, Al Snow used his japanese connections to help from a brand new promotion. I revolved around using the Japanese style, and MMA stars. Big names soon signed up, Ken Shamrock and AJ Styles went on a 13 month feud that took SS to the brink of making it to fucking National. On the abck of that huge feud alone, Strong Style managed to ink a television deal with a local TV Company. Snow still runs SS, but with less of a grip, as most of the booking is handled by his hired staff. Snow concentrates on training the young guys... he's a fucking nice guy, what can I say. I like Al Snow, he's probably one of the only good guys left in this fucking business.

So there. Fucking A. A history lesson, by Rick Thomas. Fan-fucking-tastic. Now, let me go back to sleep.

Edited July 11, 2005 by wrestlingsuicide

[wrestlingsuicide]

NWA: SOUTHEAST, THE BEGINNING

AUGUST 28, 2005

Watch the beginning of a NEW era in WRESTLING! Live from the Riverview Hall in Atlanta, Georgia!

Featuring, for the first time in two years, "THE MESSIAH" SHANE DOUGLAS, back inside a wrestling ring!

ELIX SKIPPER and EZ MONEY vs. JOHNNY KASHMER and MICHAEL VERDE

Featuring the unbelievable, undeniable, indescribable force known as "THE BEAST" BOB SAPP!!!

ALSO FEATURING:

STEVIE RICHARDS

KENZO SUZUKI

ROB CONWAY

DOUG BASHAM

And, with the additional appearance of:

FROM NWA:DETROIT MICHIGAN - MONTY BROWN!!!

FROM NWA:STRONG STYLE - SAMOA JOE!!!

FROM NWA:ATHLETIC ARTS - THE AMAZING RED!!!

Don't miss this opportunity to be part of the dawning of a new era!

$20 Entrance Fee. Liquor will be served.

[Hailtothechimp]

$20 Entrance Fee. Liquor will be served.

[Guest SquadBoy]

Can't wait for the show man. And I hope you still have these little conversations, about your progress with the fed.

[EWFan2004]

Ahh man I love this backstory have Brown vs. Joe match and have the guys stiff the hell out of each other.

[Nova]

I just read this from beginning to end and enjoyed every minute of it. This diary is simply incredible - although I am pretty new here, this is the best diary I've read yet. The backstory is extraordinary, I love the portrayal of your character and how you've basically diggen deeper into the NWA Domination '05 scenario's backstory and explained every promotions history. I can't wait to read on.

[TGC]

And I thought the main character in SSW was a total bastard...way to outdo me my man.

This is only the second diary to take the NWA Domination scenario and totally run with it. The first of course is this little thing that goes by the name of LAW I think. Anyways, damn good job thus far. Your main character is very fleshed out, the history of the main characters is very fleshed out, and the reality that this exists in is extremely fleshed out. Ala LAW, you have taken the NWA and almost turned them into a mafia like organization it seems, and as we have all seen in LAW, this has a tendency to wrk quite well.

Personally, I can't wait to see some interaction with Stu Hart, Vinnie Mac, and Dusty and Jerry Jarrett. Let's see the Don's of the NWA clash with and butt heads with Rick, Bill, and Shane sometime soon please.

Also. wouldn't Bill maybe hire his kid to work in Southeast, or is there a backstory involving Bill and Erik we have yet to hear?

Good luck, I am very interested and very impressed thus far. THIS is why checking out pages 3 and on is a good idea here in The Dome.

TGC