#I just caught up on this week's Dynamite and oh man I want this arc for MJF so badly

[muffin-man-marq-lynch]

So you're MJF...

You're the up and coming prodigy, the future of wrestling in the company that's going to save wrestling, the 5'8" bullied ADHD riddled Jewish kid from Long Island who's going to prove them all wrong, except... You're 28 now, and your name doesn't show up in the '30 under 30' and hot new talent lists any more. The company you work for and tied your name to as a pillar gets talked about more as a joke of wasted potential and mismanagement these days than the shining beacon of the future, and 'the bidding war of 2024' is over. You won, you guess. (This is what winning feels like, right?)

You have no mentor, no friends, (stable, bodyguards, backup) just a long line of people you didn't let get close and people you let get too close that proved you right. You get asked about your legacy in a scrum that already feels like a lifetime ago, and say you don't need to build it: You've built it. Longest AEW world championship title reign (it is real it's real) Best dog collar match. Best iron man match. Best feuds.

But you're here. And you don't care what anyone says- ("I think Max is a very talented individual... but the grass is greener where you water it, and I think Max likes to shit where he eats") But you're here, for now.

And yeah, you might be a little... Uninspired. But you can be Useful. You've always been good at being Useful. You're a draw, love you or not, people come to see you (AEW Dynamite viewership hits all time low June 2024) and that's valuable. You can still carry this company on your shoulders, all by yourself.

So you go out, and you shill, every show and every promo and you even fight on a Wednesday night as a first card again and goddamn but you have to work for it harder than you remember (you're 28 now, are things going to be like this forever?) And you say good things about the company and generous shit about the assholes you work with and your patter might be a bit rote these days but you still talk up every legend you work with to pay them respect and let the rubes in the audience know they should too, but maybe you start trying to do it more often with the younger guys too. It's nice, a couple mention you in interviews as being good in the locker rooms among a short list of other names, and you've never been one for just placing, but it's not that kind of competition.

But then Danny Garcia stands up in the middle of a show in New York (Buffalo, but still), and says... All of that. And it's the first time someone's acknowledged you're trying out here (Besides Caster, even when you weren't really Caster thought that) And just when you're feeling like maybe you haven't just made the wrong choices (You could have at least opened the letter from the other company to make sure it was an offer) Will Fucking Ospreay comes bouncing out on stage to stomp all over your moment.

And you stand in the corner of the ring in the three inch boots you have to wear now while dropping lines about 'both being little guys' (it's just for the camera Max the height disparity doesn't play well on screen thanks for being a team player) and wonder how this happened.

There was a moment you had it all, you're almost sure of it. You've tried to be Good, to be Better Than You Were every day before in appreciation of that fact because that's what you have to do, right? That's what you're supposed to do, Get Better. Better at wrestling, at shilling, at mentoring the guys in the locker room, at opening yourself up to get stomped on again... And you have. You've matured, you keep your mouth shut, you congratulate Danny, leave to let the show get going (already running behind now thanks Bruv ) and for just a moment you let yourself wonder what prize you're really fighting for now.

You Grew, You Got Better, but no one cared, (Adam Never Cared) because at a certain point you weren't competing against any of them anymore. At some point you realize, you were just doing it because the only competition staredown that felt worth having was the one that happened every morning looking in the mirror.

Watching Ospreay flit around and interrupt you, promising a shot at a belt he doesn't even have yet (Your belt) feeling Garcia and the attention of every other Buffalo hick turn for whatever piece of glitz floats their way though?

You're MJF.

You're Better Than Them.

You Always Have Been.

It's time to make them Remember that fact.