Chad Gable had every opportunity to walk into that ring and prove me wrong. And for a moment, I’ll admit, I was almost impressed.
Almost.
But when the dust settled, when the referee counted to three, there was only one man standing as the Intercontinental Champion.
ME.
You surrounded yourself with masked men, played the role of the courageous little underdog, and convinced everybody that you were some kind of noble champion. Meanwhile, I was the one actually chasing greatness. And look where that got me.
Chad Gable is handing out title shot after title shot to all these luchadors that, if my memory serves me correctly, he spent all of last year bullying and making a mockery of.
Some would say the title shots are a form of guilt. But see me? I have no guilt about anything.