Craig Anderson doesn't have a custom title currently.
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Joined: 16-November 16
Last Seen: Yesterday at 11:03 am
Local Time: May 25 2018, 10:35 PM
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Sep 22 2017, 10:15 AM
CA: “Honestly, Jess – fuck them!”
This isn't another of Craig's LFL rants. No. Instead, this is his attempt at calming me down, making me feel better. Strangely, it tends to work more often than not.
CA: “I'm getting sick to death of these supposedly tough wrestlers having ridiculously thin skin. I've spent years trying to find out what works best for me as a finishing move. As it turns out, all I need to do is say something that isn't at all offensive and they're all but beaten!”
He parades around our bedroom, stomping his feet as he does so.
CA: “One thing I've learned over the past few weeks is that, in this business, friendships are fragile. The only people you can trust are those closest to you – sometimes, that means only yourself. But personally, I'm beyond the point of valuing friendships over furthering my career. My supposed 'best friend' could be standing in the way of me and that big Championship win, and maybe before I'd have let them have it. But now? Absolutely not. This is not a team sport.”
He stops to look at me, noticing that I'm still sobbing slightly.
CA: “You need to stop crying and woman up. Seriously. I understand things are hard for you at the moment, but feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to get you anywhere. You've got a huge opportunity coming up at Global Warfare, and your match this week at Ruckus isn't exactly a walk in the park. You need to turn your weaknesses into your strengths. Okay, so you've upset some people recently. So what? We both know you didn't do anything wrong, so if they're going to have a problem with you over something like that, fuck them.”
He's right, actually. I need to stop caring too much. I'm an emotional person – of course I am. But I can't let my emotions get in the way of my career. I've worked too hard to get to where I'm at, to let petty bullshit bring me down. I sit up and use the sleeve of Craig's hoody to wipe the tears from my eyes.
JA: “Actually, you know what? I've worked my arse off recently to get opportunities, and now I'm finally getting some. We could have faced deportation from Australia in just a few weeks time, but we fought and fought to get our new visas. Like I said last week on Ruckus, I'm Jessica Anderson. My name isn't 'Craig Anderson's Wife', and if people are going to start believing that, I first need to start acting like I believe it myself.”
I jump off the bed and begin to stretch. I've got some big matches coming up over the next few days, and I certainly need to prepare.
JA: “I know that my friends will support me no matter what. I've said this before, but I'll say it again. It doesn't matter whether I have to work with you or against you, at the end of the day I'm done with letting other people take the opportunities that I feel I have earned time and time again. It's not #TeamUnbooked any more. It's going to be #TeamWeCan'tAffordToNotBookYou.”
Craig looks at me with that exact same smile that he always has when he manages to get me out of one of my strops, slightly biting his lower lip.
JA: “So, do you know what? I'm not making any more innocent Twitter jokes. If I want to be taken seriously as a legitimate threat in this business, I need to start behaving like one. I'm never going to make the most of my opportunities otherwise. There's two entire rosters that I'm competing with to earn my shot. I'm ready!”
After I've finished up in Canada, I'll be heading to Australia. I have both Krissy Spencer and Carina Eventide standing in my way. It won't be easy, but if I can get by both of them, a statement of my intent will have been made!
Feb 5 2017, 12:30 PM
~ January 24th, 2017
~ Melbourne, Australia
~ Off camera
I am awakened by the sound of my phone’s alarm. I press the screen against my face, squinting. Exactly seven o’clock, as I set it to be. Good job I set up a snooze feature. Just ten more minutes, I tell myself. It’s safe to say I am not a morning person.
I have no idea how many minutes later, I open my eyes to the sight of the sun peeking out from behind the silk curtains. The field outside is bright and green, the leaves on the trees all swaying in excitement. I should want to go outside on such a lovely day, but as I walk up to the window, the first thing I notice is the sole naked tree. It has been withered down to a stalk, leaving the remnants to look like the result of a cataclysm. It’s as still as a statue. In a grassland of such excitement and movement, it’s in the wrong place. It doesn’t look right in its surroundings. A square peg in a round hole, if you will.
My phone goes off again. I switch it off. Jessica rolls out of bed, wearing nothing but her underwear as she comes up behind me, her chin tucked into my shoulder. She, like myself, isn’t the biggest morning person. She pecks me on the cheek as she wraps her arms around my shoulders.
“What’s wrong?”, she asks as she notices me gazing off into the horizon. “Is this because you didn’t win at Unearthed?” She begins to rub her fingers across my waist, the exact area where the Proving Grounds Championship would have rested. “I lost, too. Besides, you’ll always be my Champion!”
She walks up to the window. “So, what exactly are you looking at?” I go up behind her, and after returning the kiss to the cheek, place my hands on her head and begin to guide her in the direction of the dead tree.
“That’s it?” she asks, underwhelmed. “It’s a bloody dead tree!” Then she looks at it closer. The life around it: the flowers; the grass; the people walking with their dogs. She gets it. “You feel like you don’t belong here, don’t you? You look at that tree, and feel out of place. You don’t know what your purpose is here. I get that. I sometimes feel that way, too.”
I turn to her. She’s always great with advice, so why should now be any different? “How do you get over it?” The moment those words escape my mouth, a smile forms on her lips.
“I just need to look at you to be reminded why I’m doing this. You need to remind yourself of why you’re doing this. And I know exactly how you’re going to do that!” She stands up straight, as she often does when an idea pops into her head.
To be continued...
Jan 21 2017, 11:52 AM
Proving Grounds. I'm no stranger to such a term. I've had to prove myself my entire life. During the early years, it was on the football pitches of Worcester, England. Few believed in me. “Look at him - he can't kick a ball to save his life.” That was true. I started off not realising I was left-footed, so I spent a good half a year kicking a ball around with my weaker foot. I was usually picked last.
Nobody would ever pass to me. I would mess it up. At that point, my career highlight was successfully completing a pass. That was from a kick-off. The summer holidays came around, and when walking through a car park with my father, a ball bounced in front of me. “Yes, mate. Pass it here!” One of the teenagers yelled from a good thirty yards away. I looked at my dad. “Pass it to him, son.” I gulped. I couldn't control a ball. How was I supposed to pass it to him?
Suddenly, though, I swung my left foot at the ball. The ball lifted off the ground and bounced right in front of him, in what was an almost perfect pass. The group thanked me and carried on with their game, but most importantly, I had shocked myself. “That was with my left foot,” I told myself. I'd never used it before.
I spent the rest of the summer practising with my left foot, to noticeable success. By the time I went back to school, I was even competent with my right. I was still the last pick in our first PE lesson, but that was about to change. The ball fell to me, just outside the box, and I volleyed it into the top left corner. Everybody was shocked. The teacher even started celebrating.
It was just a fluke. No big deal, right? Wrong. The ball came towards me again, a ground-pass this time, and I finished into the bottom right. I was mobbed by my classmates. The next game, I went from goalscorer to provider. I skipped along the left wing before swinging a cross into the box. Within two months, I was captain of the school football team. By the time I'd left school, I'd became a sought-after name. I was offered contracts by several first division sides. I was considered the next big thing. Until I turned them all down. “You can't just hold off expecting Chelsea to make an offer,” my father told me. I wasn't. I'd made my mind up some time prior. I was going to become a professional wrestler. Nothing anybody could say was going to talk me out of that.
Suddenly, I had to prove myself all over again. This time, it was in the squared circle. I knew it wasn’t football, but stepping in between the ropes for the first time filled me with just as much joy as pulling on that captains armband. It took a while, hell, I got the crap beaten out of me. But eventually, I was ready to start wrestling in front of a wider audience.
Just as I thought I’d made it, I was suddenly off to Australia. Everything I had done and achieved up until now was rendered meaningless. I had to prove myself again. And come Unearthed, that is exactly what I will do. I will prove to Iris Black, and anybody who doubts me, that I can hang with the best this company has to offer. If winning the Proving Grounds Championship is the way to do that, then that is exactly what I’m going to do!
Jan 8 2017, 01:06 PM
The scene opens into a medium sized room, with Craig Anderson pacing around it. The usually upbeat wrestler seems rather agitated, made clear when he crushes a custard cream biscuit within his palm. He turns toward the camera, a scowl forming on his face.
Craig Anderson: I love the sport of professional wrestling. I made so many sacrifices just to make it in this business. My uncle died doing what he loved, so I started wrestling in his honour. This was my way of saying thanks to my hero, my biggest inspiration. To me, wrestling is much more than a job or a sport. Wrestling is a huge part of my life, and I hope it remains so for a long time to come.
He reaches towards the biscuit tin, which sits on top of a small mahogany table. He pulls out a rich tea biscuit, but, with a shake of the head, ends up putting it back.
Craig Anderson: That's my personal view on wrestling, not everyone will feel the same way. That's perfectly fine. However, the sport must be respected by all within it. Wrestling doesn't exactly have the best of reputations, and it most certainly isn't helped by certain individuals making a mockery of themselves. Individuals like – well, I'm fairly sure everybody could think of at least a dozen names which would apply.
The thought of the behaviour showcased by some of the people in question is enough to make Craig's stomach churn. He takes a moment to compose himself.
Craig Anderson: I felt as though I was being swarmed by them. My passion for wrestling was dwindling, I was starting to think I'd never return to the ring. That's why I moved to Australia. I needed a fresh start, away from the drama and the soap operas. And to be perfectly honest? It worked. I'm the happiest I've been for a good few years now. Australian wrestling is different from its American counterpart. It's better suited to my style and my personality. I feel at home here, even if the seasons are completely the opposite to what I'm used to. Everything was going superbly. I had absolutely zero complaints. Until last week.
Craig reaches back into the biscuit tin, this time pulling out a bourbon and a digestive. He crushes both within the palms of his hands.
Craig Anderson: Iris Black disrespected the Proving Grounds Championship once again. Not only that, but she disrespected In Your House AND professional wrestling. Yet again, she got her little lapdog to interfere in another of her matches. When things turned rough for Iris, all of a sudden Connie Craven turns up to stick her nose in. I have no problem admitting defeat, but this seems to happen on a weekly basis. I've held my tongue, because I was the 'new guy'. But I've had enough. I came to In Your House because I thought that this was where the REAL wrestlers were. For the most part, I was not wrong. Look at the top of the card. Angelica Layne, Michael Diablo, Owen Gonsalves – and that's just to name a few. They're what I would consider to be 'real wrestlers', not because of their background, but because they bust their asses off in the ring because it's what they do best. But Iris Black?
Craig shakes his head with a deep sigh.
Craig Anderson: Far from it. A real wrestler can get the job done by themselves. Of course a little back up is necessary sometimes, but for the most part, a real wrestler should be able to fight their own battles. As for a Champion? They should be out there proving why they are Champion. If I were Champion, I'd welcome all challenges with open arms. In my opinion, you can find out a lot about a person just by how they overcome obstacles. Me? I'm determined. I'll probably fail first try, but I'll keep trying until I succeed. I failed to beat Iris the first time around, but I will dust myself off and try again. First however, I can't wait to get my hands on Connie Craven. I've been looking forward to this all week long. I have so much frustration to release, that a 'Ruckus' would be the least of your worries. Just know this, Isis. I'll be seeing you really soon!
The scene fades.
Jan 1 2017, 01:24 PM
Okay, so I was doing great in my last match. Then that pesky “ring dust” got into my eyes. Oops, sorry. Let me think of a different term, something that is more of an “original thought”.
All joking aside, I'm not particularly pleased with how my last match went down. I could throw a tantrum and bitch about it, but I'm not one to make excuses. Sure, the outcome was questionable, but the record books will forever show another loss next to my name. There is no disputing that fact. I lost last week. However, I'm not going to beat myself up over it. Instead, I'm going to use it as fuel. My next match doesn't get any easier. In fact, it's a non-title bout against Iris Black. I know how a lot of people see non-title matches. “Oh, I'm against the champ. If I can win, I may get a shot at them in the future.”
I've not been here anywhere near long enough to know how things work, but you can rest assured that I am not going into this match with that mindset. I'm treating it just like any other match: the most important match of my career. It's something I was taught by one of my football coaches. You can only beat who is put in front of you. You could be playing Real Madrid or Havant & Waterlooville. As far as I'm concerned, no matter who the opponent is, you treat them as you would treat anybody else.
Iris is great. Obviously. She wouldn't hold the Proving Grounds Championship if she wasn't. But do you know who else is great? Vivian Lee. I wasn't able to beat her, but like I said before, that fuels me. I feel like I have a point to prove here. After all, I've yet to fully make up for the whole 'cape' incident. I could apologise profusely for it, but I prefer to let my in-ring work do the talking. Tune into Ruckus 23. Somebody is sure to raise a ruckus!