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Endure

The Minstrel

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Mar 6, 2012
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Endure

[An open doorway leads into what appears to be an office. Upon entering, two men sit at a wooden desk, the gentleman facing the doorway looks up with an inquisitive look. He is an older man, approximately middle-aged with brown hair and a reddish brown beard. He wears a grey t-shirt, which bring out his icy blue eyes. Around the office are various pictures of wrestling, awards and wrestling belts – it does not take long to see the gentleman at the desk is indeed the man in the pictures.]

[He still eyeballs the camera uncertain and untrusting of what’s going on.]

[At the opposite end of the desk is a young man with jet black hair that sits mussed atop his head. He is wearing a white t-shirt and gym shorts, his leg moves anxiously behind the desk. He looks knowingly at the camera with his brown eyes, which causes the older man to respond.]

“Shane, what’s going on here? Is this supposed to be for America’s Funniest Home Videos?”

[The younger man chuckles as he responds.]

Shane: Yeah, John, maybe if it was 1994.

[The older man smiles and shakes his head realizing he has dated himself.]

John: Very funny, seriously, what’s up? Why the camera?

[Shane rolls his eyes before reaching into his pocket.]

Shane: You would think you’d be comfortable in front of a camera after doing it for years…

[John chuckles now, leaning back in his chair – looking, in fact, more comfortable as if reassured by the younger man’s statement.]

John: It’s not the camera that worries me, it’s the two knuckleheads I’m dealing with.

[Shane unfolds the piece of paper, which was in his pocket, but keeps it facing himself.]

Shane: Alright, well…

[John motions with his hand for Shane to say whatever it is he’s trying to say.]

Shane: We’ve done a lot of thinking and talking amongst ourselves over the past few weeks and decided we should approach with something.

[Shane hands over the piece of paper. John takes a look and then tosses it dismissively on the desk.]

John: No way, none of you are ready for the UltraTitle tournament. That’s something you build your way up to – you don’t just walk in and make your professional debut at a tournament like this… Please, you guys would get eaten alive.

Shane: So what you’re saying is… You need experience.

[John nods his head and then leans forward onto the desk.]

John: Absolutely, I couldn’t in my right conscience allow you or anyone else to enter this thing without a year or two in the pro circuit - you’d just get hurt.

[Shane smirks and leans back comfortably in his chair.]

Shane: What if I told you that wasn’t a problem?

[John shakes his head and raises an eyebrow.]

John: I don’t understand.

[Shane still smirking now leans forward on the desk.]

Shane: You… are going to do it.

[John sits in stunned silence for a moment. Shane uses his peripheral vision to shoot the camera a look and then looks back at John. John sits back and begins laughing, Shane instantly looks discouraged, but is not easily denied.]

Shane: John, think about it…

[John trying to quell his laughter shakes his head.]

John: You… can’t be serious.

Shane: We’re very serious – we think this is something you should do. Given everything that’s transpired it might be the best thing for you.

[Shane’s tone changes in just a matter of words. John’s laughter has turned to silence.]

Shane: This could be your chance to take your rightful place – to become one of the greats. To cement your legacy. To bridge the German against Daliente.

[John grimaces just hearing that.]

Shane: And hell, I won’t lie to you and you know that because you’ve been like a father to me – it’ll be good for you based on all the bul----- that’s gone down. It can drive you.

[John is sitting with his hand over his mouth – slowly stroking his facial hair.]

John: So this is about therapy? You think embarrassing myself will be therapeutic?

[The hostility rings in his voice, but the young man will not back down.]

Shane: C’mon John, we all know you’re incapable of embarrassing yourself – without training you could go in tomorrow and put on a show. With training, with faith in yourself… You could win this thing.

You’re not the emotional kid, you were back then. You know how to harness your energy, your nerves, your ambitions now. You said it yourself – “I got it in my own way.”

If you don’t do this – that will be true.

[These words are not of the patronizing variety – rather those of conviction and belief. John has been looking away – distancing himself. He takes a deep breath and then turns his eyes towards the young man and leans forward.]

Shane: So?

[John sits silent for a moment.]

John: I’ll think about it.

[A smile crosses Shane’s face as he nods.]

Shane: Okay.

[He rises from the chair in the desk and motions for the cameraman to leave. John does not look at either of them as he sits back in his chair gazing off in the distance.]

[Fade out.]

Later that evening…

[There is the sound of footsteps amidst the darkness then some assorted clicking.]

[The lights above bang as they turn on, shooting out light onto a gym floor and illuminating a centrally-placed wrestling ring. At the entrance to the room, stands a man holding a six pack of beer. He wears a black hooded sweatshirt and a pair of jeans.]

[As he walks closer, the man is none other than “John”, who was in the office before. His brown hair is pushed back slightly and his beard is still a prominent reddish brown. The six-pack in his hand is Sierra Nevada Pale Ale - he grabs one with his left hand as he sets down the six-pack on apron.]

I suppose this is where we begin. Again. To end any speculation, you all might have, my name is John McDonough.

[He reaches into the pocket of the sweatshirt and pulls out his keys, which have a bottle opener attached. He opens the bottle and the top goes falling to the ground.]

After a lot of reflection and visiting someone very dear to me to obtain their blessing, I’ve decided to go ahead on this journey – the UltraTitle Tournament.

Tomorrow, I’ll come here and tell my student Shane, the rest of my students and the trainers that I’m going ahead with this. What a s---show that’s going to be.

[He gives a half smile before taking his first drink of the beer.]

And this is probably the last of you for quite a while…

[He says this to the bottle before turning his head towards the camera.]

So what sets me apart from the sixty-three other wrestlers in this tournament? I can bet we’ll hear plenty of answers leading up to the tournament…

Talent, drive, work ethic, experience, youth, power, speed, strength, personal tragedy, etcetera.

The fact is, when you’re dealing with a tournament of this size – everyone’s got talent and a story – but they simply run together.

You can file me under “old wrestler attempting to seize one last shot at the success he came close to, but never achieved.” The “now or never”, “last chance” crowd.

[He smiles as he takes another sip from his beer.]

I am what I am.

[He shrugs before stepping away from the ring apron, turning around and climbing up into the ring. He places his beer down on the apron before slinging himself into the ring over the top rope. After securing the landing, he leans down and picks back up his beer.]

So why now? Why now am I going to secure the glory I could not before?

[He leans against the rope taking a sip from the beer before removing it and staring straight at the camera.]

Once again, I’m sure it’s an answer you’ll hear many times but… But simply put, I am not just happy to be here.

I’ve come to realize over time when I secured my National Wrestling Council Would Heavyweight Title matches – I was thrilled to be there. To be considered amongst the best of the best… I will not be satisfied with being amongst the best anymore.

As far as this tournament goes, I am not some kid content to show-off to the old timers they used to worship and trying to land a gig at better promotion, nor am I some veteran just looking for a paycheck… Nor am I an old timer just looking to prove I still have it…

Frankly, I know I’ve still got it.

[He nods his head as I smile creeps across his face.]

This will be my singular focus – not just another match or tournament on the side. This is my shot at redemption… I am not content to sit on the precipice of greatness – to be in the Hall of Very Good.

I am going to dissect every single man, woman or thing that stands in my way!

And even if I am down, hurt, injured – I am going to push on – someone…

[He looks up and closes his eyes.]

Will push me on…

[He opens his eyes and goes back to the camera – the icy blue cylinders are unflappable.]

This business has left me weathered and broken before – it will be nothing new… But I am still f------ here! And I will endure.

[He throws his finger at the camera before backing away from the ropes.]

I will not be denied like before…

This WILL come to pass.

[He spreads his arms out in the center of the ring – as though he were a ringleader.]

My friends – welcome to the Aftermath!

[Fade out.]
 

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