It was strange wrestling without the mask. I’d gotten so used to wearing it, and there was a strange sense of power connected with it; I like to think I’m a fairly nice guy in my day-to-day life, but once that mask went on I turned into someone else. I’d never seen myself as a heel, to be honest…but the Boss was smart enough to know that with a mask on, I’d bring out the nasty, sadistic son-of-a-bitch just below the surface.
I mean, you can see the difference:
Totally different in attitude, look, everything.
So there I was in a Las Vegas hotel room, no mask, getting my ass handed to me by Mitch Colby. He’d gotten two quick submissions out of me, and this match was definitely not going to the way I wanted it to, the way I’d pictured it, the way I’d thought about it.
Then he dragged my workout shorts off me and slapped me with them a couple of times, laughing.
Laughing. At me.
Nobody laughs at Cage Thunder.
Time for a little turnabout is fair play.