After watching some commercials and one of the biggest games of the year last Sunday, I realized something: it took me almost 4 hours
to eat some 100 wings. Iím a beast. I'm a carnivore. Iím MR. TOUCHDOWN. If you can believe it, there was a time before Mr. Touchdown.
When Mark Angelosetti was without a nickname. But when an athlete of my caliber walks onto any playing field, it's inevitable. All
eyes will be on me.
On January 28th I didnít need a bunch of over-produced commercials to get people to watch me. No, I told the world
I was coming to CHIKARA and I was going to make an impact. As Dasher Hatfield stood in the ring and talked about me I could feel a
rumbling. The people of Easton could feel a mega star about to light up their dark existences. Finally my banner was up...and
IT WAS GOOD! Everyone was standing and
screaming. High fives! YES. Tailgaters who stood outside, writing my name on their chest, were able to express themselves artistically.
YES. I left the building knowing that in the months to come bigger things were to happen.
I take you now to February 25th. Reading, PA. I will be teaming with another two-sport-athlete in Dasher Hatfield taking on The Colony.
CHIKARA is my field. You will not ruin it with your little anthills. NO. If I cover you ants in chocolate you become a very
nutritious post-game meal. YES.
I will make chocolate covered ants on the 25th and I will devour them! Eating them entirely and moving on to my next match! After
Reading, everyone will see why my teammates called me Mr. Touchdown. I don't choke when the blitz is on. I don't cry like a sissy.
I eat nerds for breakfast and by that I do not mean the candy! I am Mr. Touchdown! What does it mean? It means win! It means victory!
AND IT'S GOOD!