As tends to be the case with athletes who fail drug tests, he's not admitting anything. He hasn't said much yet, but he'll probably release a statement blaming tainted supplements or bad walrus meat or some crap. For once, I'd like an athlete to just be honest. Here's what his official statement should be:
 |
| "Yeah, this is all natural." |
[arrives at podium]
Thank you everyone for being here today. Before we begin, I'd like you all to look at me. As you can see, I've arrived shirtless to make this demonstration a little easier.
Just look at me for a second, ok? I'm big. No, let's not use that word. Big doesn't even begin to cut it. I'm huge. Enormous. I'm an absolute fucking monster. A freakishly large massive leviathan of a human being, agreed?
Now let's consider a few facts.
I've barely got a scrap of fat on my body and I had to cut water weight to make 265 lbs for my fight against Mark Hunt. Two hundred and sixty five pounds. Hunt made that weight with a cheeseburger in his hand, not to mention sixty more hanging down over his belt. I had to sweat it out in a sauna for a week to make heavyweight. Think of that for a second. When guys struggle to make the heavyweight limit, they're usually fat as shit, right? Not me. I'm freaking beefy.
I'm bigger than most of your cars and probably about half of your houses.
I'm a professional wrestler in the WWE, which is known for being a bunch of dudes who are--like me--huge as fuck. Nobody's pretending they didn't all get that way by using steroids.
My head measures five feet in circumference.
Did I mention I came from the WWE, whose anti-steroid policy consists of the bosses saying "don't use steroids" while winking and handing me a great big box full of steroids with the words "DEFINITELY NOT STEROIDS" scrawled on the outside with a Sharpie?
Seriously people, why are we even discussing this? Yes, obviously I'm on steroids. I'm more roided-out than an unregulated South American Angus steer! My body is a goddamned pharmaceutical experiment of the most conspicuous kind.
What's that? I'm supposed to apologize? Fuck you. I'm sorry they tested me and I got caught I guess. Whatever. I'd have to be an idiot to think that I could go into this fight looking like goddamn Hercules' older brother and not get popped for something. What do I care? I made 2.5 million for that fight. The fine will be maybe 50k.
And oh yeah, I'm supposed to say what a mistake this was and I'll never do it again. Sorry folks, but as soon as I'm done with this round of estrogen blockers it's back to the ol' needle for me. I'm pushing 40 years old. No one wants to see a bunch of saggy-gut, droopy-man-boob sons-o-bitches parading around in the ring. Wrestling's fake. It's all about appearances.
Oh, I'm suspended from the UFC now? Psh. Again, 2.5 million bucks. Put that on top of what WWE pays me and I think I'll manage to get by, thanks.
Jesus. I can't believe I had to leave the gym for this.
[eats microphone, tears Dana White in half, storms off stage]
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