Wow...
Just. Wow. That's all I can truly say right now. This is the reason I started the blog. For nights exactly like this. I was jumping up and down on the couch when Daniel Bryan grabbed the briefcase. When Christian's head games paid off, I had a smile across my face that I thought would not be replaced. And then, the second Michael Cole mentioned the Screwjob, my heart sunk. When Johnny Ace and Vince came out to no music, with time still left on the clock, I was begging them not to end it like that. When Vince called for the bell, I almost threw my phone at the television.
But no emotion could top when Punk hit the GTS. I may be turning 21 tomorrow (19th of July), but jesus, I don't think I could be happier any time this week. It was the ultimate mark-out for me since I began watching, and that covers a lot of territory.
I'll probably do a full recap sometime later, whilst all my American readers are asleep, but I really don't think I'll be able to process what the hell just happened tonight. I was taken back to a time before the Internet, before I had to pay bills and before I had any idea about anything backstage. Tonight, I was back to being that 10 year old kid, screaming his ass off on the couch.
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