CuseTroy
League Member
Fade In...
Open on the living room of a house in Greensboro, NC. The furniture is a little dusty, the air stale and slightly acrid, giving the impression that the house hasn't been lived in for several months. Some half-emptied cardboard boxes are scattered about the floor, and a well-used bottle of glass cleaner and a white rag rest on the wooden coffee table. The camera pans right to the entrance to the small, ground floor office, where a man, Troy Douglas, unwraps several framed pictures from their cellophane encasement, arranging them around his laptop computer resting on the desk. Douglas, visibly absent from the public life for almost 8 months, looks better than he has in a long time, refreshed after his longest hiatus since the injury that took his football career. However, his 30th birthday is rapidly approaching, and the former superstar is beginning to realize that time does not wait for anyone. His clock is ticking, and he's got to move quickly if he wants to resurrect an oft-broken career. Setting down a picture of himself and his late father at his college graduation, Troy turns his leather desk chair to face the camera.
"It's a little strange, what happens when you finally decide to walk away. 8 months ago, everything I worked for had begun to crumble around me, a product of a weakening body and an even more atrophied mind. Just as I thought I was about to reach the pinnacle of my profession, I began to self-destruct, like I always have. I allowed old injuries, my ancient aches and pains, to take hold of my performance in the ring, and allowed my decaying emotional state to overtake my personal and professional responsibilities.
"Then, one night on the road, I broke. Sitting in a cheap motel room in Omaha, I began to completely fall apart. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring into my own reflection on a blank TV screen, crying, for hours and hours on end. At some point, I collapsed to the floor and drifted into sleep, without even knowing it. When I woke up, hours later, I made two phone calls without even thinking about them. The first was to CSWA headquarters, informing them that I'd be pulling off the road schedule indefinitely for personal reasons. The second was to my travel agent to book two flights, one back to Greensboro, the other from there to Philadelphia. Without any conscious effort, I made the decision to leave wrestling, most likely on a permanent basis.
"I couldn't stay home in Greensboro, the memories were too potent, and I knew my fragile state would never hold up if I stayed in this house, in this city, where the two most important people in my life were killed. I took nearly everything I had, put it in suitcases or sent it to storage, and flew to the only other place I'd ever felt comfortable living, Philadelphia. I walked into my apartment, not really lived in since I left football 7 years prior, unpacked, locked the door, and holed myself up inside. Days went by, and I shunned any human contact. I just sat in silence, like I was waiting for an answer that would never come.
"It took one of my oldest friends nearly kicking my apartment door in to finally jolt me from my near-catatonic state. Over the next few hours we argued, we screamed, we nearly came to blows, but by the end of it, I'd been convinced that if I wanted to have some sense of stability in my life, I needed to let people in, not shut them out. It's terribly cliche, but it worked. I sought help, I talked to anyone I could. I was forced to relive alot of the worst moments of my life, but eventually I began to come around.
"After all the time, all the turmoil and pain, I finally brought my own life into perspective. I finally figured out who I was, separate from the man who spent 5 years in front of the biggest crowds on the biggest stages the world could offer. I had made the choice to leave the ring, and I was beginning to realize who I could be away from it. But then, phone calls came, companies wanting to know where I was, if I'd sign with them, if I'd resume my road schedule. One by one, the suits offered me money, exposure, a chance to be at the top again, everything that I dreamed of when I first put on the boots and tights. One by one, I turned them down with a smile on my face, glad to be rid of the business that had nearly claimed my body and my spirit.
"But something still lingered. I had figured out who I was without wrestling, but I realized that the person who I was outside of the ring was just as empty as the man who spent 5 years inside the ring. I had to go back. Not because of the money, or the fame, but because, odd as it sounds, I feel it's what I'm destined to do. This does not define me, but it is a part of me, just as every scar, physical and mental, will always be a part of me. I return, renewed, because I realize that when, months ago, I decided to fade into the sunset, I left so many goals unfulfilled, so many dreams unattained.
"Since I sat in a dingy downtown warehouse when I was 11, all I ever wanted was to be CSWA World Champion. I thought I could eventually bring myself to live without the eventual achievement of that goal. I couldn't. I come back for the title that represents the top of this world. But now, I'm no longer trying to live the dream. I'm casting off my fantasy, and creating my own reality. Maybe it's my swan song, but, then again, maybe I'm the phoenix, a fallen star rising from the remnants of his own battered life to even greater heights. Only time will tell, but nothing can start unless I make the first move. So, I'm back and I'm ready, let's start the game anew.
"On your mark ... get set ... go."
... Fade Out
Open on the living room of a house in Greensboro, NC. The furniture is a little dusty, the air stale and slightly acrid, giving the impression that the house hasn't been lived in for several months. Some half-emptied cardboard boxes are scattered about the floor, and a well-used bottle of glass cleaner and a white rag rest on the wooden coffee table. The camera pans right to the entrance to the small, ground floor office, where a man, Troy Douglas, unwraps several framed pictures from their cellophane encasement, arranging them around his laptop computer resting on the desk. Douglas, visibly absent from the public life for almost 8 months, looks better than he has in a long time, refreshed after his longest hiatus since the injury that took his football career. However, his 30th birthday is rapidly approaching, and the former superstar is beginning to realize that time does not wait for anyone. His clock is ticking, and he's got to move quickly if he wants to resurrect an oft-broken career. Setting down a picture of himself and his late father at his college graduation, Troy turns his leather desk chair to face the camera.
"It's a little strange, what happens when you finally decide to walk away. 8 months ago, everything I worked for had begun to crumble around me, a product of a weakening body and an even more atrophied mind. Just as I thought I was about to reach the pinnacle of my profession, I began to self-destruct, like I always have. I allowed old injuries, my ancient aches and pains, to take hold of my performance in the ring, and allowed my decaying emotional state to overtake my personal and professional responsibilities.
"Then, one night on the road, I broke. Sitting in a cheap motel room in Omaha, I began to completely fall apart. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring into my own reflection on a blank TV screen, crying, for hours and hours on end. At some point, I collapsed to the floor and drifted into sleep, without even knowing it. When I woke up, hours later, I made two phone calls without even thinking about them. The first was to CSWA headquarters, informing them that I'd be pulling off the road schedule indefinitely for personal reasons. The second was to my travel agent to book two flights, one back to Greensboro, the other from there to Philadelphia. Without any conscious effort, I made the decision to leave wrestling, most likely on a permanent basis.
"I couldn't stay home in Greensboro, the memories were too potent, and I knew my fragile state would never hold up if I stayed in this house, in this city, where the two most important people in my life were killed. I took nearly everything I had, put it in suitcases or sent it to storage, and flew to the only other place I'd ever felt comfortable living, Philadelphia. I walked into my apartment, not really lived in since I left football 7 years prior, unpacked, locked the door, and holed myself up inside. Days went by, and I shunned any human contact. I just sat in silence, like I was waiting for an answer that would never come.
"It took one of my oldest friends nearly kicking my apartment door in to finally jolt me from my near-catatonic state. Over the next few hours we argued, we screamed, we nearly came to blows, but by the end of it, I'd been convinced that if I wanted to have some sense of stability in my life, I needed to let people in, not shut them out. It's terribly cliche, but it worked. I sought help, I talked to anyone I could. I was forced to relive alot of the worst moments of my life, but eventually I began to come around.
"After all the time, all the turmoil and pain, I finally brought my own life into perspective. I finally figured out who I was, separate from the man who spent 5 years in front of the biggest crowds on the biggest stages the world could offer. I had made the choice to leave the ring, and I was beginning to realize who I could be away from it. But then, phone calls came, companies wanting to know where I was, if I'd sign with them, if I'd resume my road schedule. One by one, the suits offered me money, exposure, a chance to be at the top again, everything that I dreamed of when I first put on the boots and tights. One by one, I turned them down with a smile on my face, glad to be rid of the business that had nearly claimed my body and my spirit.
"But something still lingered. I had figured out who I was without wrestling, but I realized that the person who I was outside of the ring was just as empty as the man who spent 5 years inside the ring. I had to go back. Not because of the money, or the fame, but because, odd as it sounds, I feel it's what I'm destined to do. This does not define me, but it is a part of me, just as every scar, physical and mental, will always be a part of me. I return, renewed, because I realize that when, months ago, I decided to fade into the sunset, I left so many goals unfulfilled, so many dreams unattained.
"Since I sat in a dingy downtown warehouse when I was 11, all I ever wanted was to be CSWA World Champion. I thought I could eventually bring myself to live without the eventual achievement of that goal. I couldn't. I come back for the title that represents the top of this world. But now, I'm no longer trying to live the dream. I'm casting off my fantasy, and creating my own reality. Maybe it's my swan song, but, then again, maybe I'm the phoenix, a fallen star rising from the remnants of his own battered life to even greater heights. Only time will tell, but nothing can start unless I make the first move. So, I'm back and I'm ready, let's start the game anew.
"On your mark ... get set ... go."
... Fade Out