Let me tell you the story of my first champion who went the distance, the Crotchler.
The Crotchler wore an all-flesh colored skin suit, urine covered goggles and had a horrible little goatee. His gimmick was that every single one of his moves was a low blow, and he would stomp the opponents crotch into a mochi like substance until he won, be it pinfall or ring-out. This worked well for the Crotchler, as he made his way out of wrestling school and into All American Wrestling, leaving a ever increasing mound of concave crotches in his wake. However, his new manager here demanded that he changed his arsenal. Crotchler took it in stride as he was still able to pound people's johnsons into pancakes, but this time he was able to hurricanrana. He continued to work, switching around from promotion to promotion whenever he was offered a better contract, until finally settling down in Super Lucha Libre. Here he had a legendary tag-team reign with Tall Order, where the Crotchler would change his look to match. Now sporting a clean shave, spikey hair, and leather pants, the bad boy arc of "Champ Crotch" had begun. He started bringing his iconic bag of tacks to every match, where he would mercilessly DDT and faceplant his opponents into them over and over until they were more pincushion than human. The crotch gimmick had officially gone out the window, minus the name. Every match with the Champ would be guaranteed to be brutal, bloody, and drawn-out. He started taking 'roids, and gained about 100 pounds of pure muscle over the following year with the promotion. However, the manager Derek Switchoff had different plans. He would screw over the Champ one too many times when he forced him to change his moves. Feeling slighted and full to bursting with testosterone, the Champ would barge into Derek's office, where he would suplex him into the desk. A furious grapple-match would begin, and it would end with Champ Crotch faceplanting his manager into the window, hitting a folding chair on the way down. He'd flee the scene when Switchoff went limp. Derek needed to rest for four weeks, but his furious work ethic allowed him to help film a press conference for an upcoming match that unfortunately for him, the Champ was booked to fight in. Catching sight of the man who should not have lived, the second the promo ended, the Champ would once again suplex Switchoff into a chair. He would not move again. After fighting his match, Champ Crotch learned that Derek Switchoff had died. He attended the funeral by suplexing the guy who called him out for killing the manager into the manager's coffin before flipping off the crowd and going to fight in the memorial match. Champ Crotch buried wrestler after wrestler, never giving up his title until he eventually left the promotion to chase brighter glory at a rival promotion, Rising Sun Puroresu. Here, Champ Crotch would once again change his gimmick. Hoping to pander to the Japanese market, he would start wearing a white and red sash and trunks combo with a new Shinsuke Nakamura knockoff haircut. The era of Crotchaka Ichi had begun, and it would be the last run he would ever have. Due to the Title Push clause in his contract, Crotchaka immediately had a shot for the International championship vs Machine Miuri, which he would take in similar fashion to his past antics: bashing the other guy into a pile of thumbtacks over and over again until his muscles were spasming enough that he tapped immediately upon being put into a submission. This process would repeat for the following weeks. He'd ride that championship high until it was finally taken from him by Ultra Bull. He would never recover. Although he'd reclaim the title for a short time, it'd be immediately stolen back from him in a fatal four-way match, as Ultra Bull had pinfalled a guy where Crotchaka didn't even notice him. Dejected and full of hate, Crotchaka would trudge to the subway. He'd attempt to irish whip a guy into the tracks, failing, and ultimately getting his face tore off by a subway train. He'd crawl back to the hospital, where miraculously, he would only need to recuperate for a week. However, Crotchaka Ichi was never the same. The train must've changed his brain chemistry, which combined with the steroids, made him a belligerent raging moron. He'd pick fights with random people who talked to him backstage, and he was sloppier in the ring than ever. This downward spiral would end when Crotchaka, already beaten to a pulp by his peers who were sick of his abuse, was RKO'd in the gym by some chick who jumped him on sight. Crotchaka Ichi would die at age 61, having wrestled two years, having an 81% win rate across all promotions. He amassed a fortune of $300,000+, making him one of the richest wrestlers in the scene against all odds. Some say that he's still punching damned souls in the gonads in Hell, where he is almost certainly burning. Rest in peace, Crotchler.