Post by The Roy on Jun 25, 2009 1:07:34 GMT -5
"Our life is defined by opportunities, even those that we miss."
The WWE camera opens up to the outside of the ACRO Arena in Sacramento, California. There’s a red carpet draped along the path towards the front door Hollywood style. Fans are gathered for almost a mile, all standing around trying to get even the smallest glimpse of a superstar as they arrive for The Great American Bash. A long white Limo pulls up, the fans all scream before even having an idea who is inside. They are not disappointed as the limo driver opens the door, and out steps the man that smirks down on them from the giant poster mounted atop the arena. The Roy.
He is wearing a skin tight grey shirt with abstract lining patterns across the chest. His legs are kept warm not only by the flashing of camera’s, but by his long faded blue jeans. Beneath the patented black cowboy hat, and above the cocky smile he wears a pair of thick black shades. The Roy looks out at the screaming fans and notices one man in particular. This man appears to me an average Joe. Blue jeans, black T-shirt, short cut hair, but there is one thing in particular that sets this guy apart from the rest. The Roy points inside the limo, telling the driver something that we cannot hear over top of all the cheers. The Roy walks over to the man and points at his sign. The mans face lights up with pure joy, as he raises the sign higher for everyone to see. The black letter crafted against the white cardboard simply reads “The Best…The Greatest…The Kopy Kat Killer.”
The limo driver walks to The Roy and hands him two brown glass bottles labeled “Coors Lite.” The Roy hands one to the lucky fellow with the sign, and opens the other for himself. As The Roy stands with his hand around the guys shoulder he tilts his head back and chugs the entire beer. He wipes the foam from his mouth and proceeds into the building with a smile and long line of high fives with the fans. The Roy pushes the glass doors open and heads straight to the back of the arena. As soon as the doors close the outside noise dies. The inside of the arena is completely quiet. The Roy walks past custodians sweeping up for the big event just hours away. Concession stand workers are preparing for the rush as well. In just a short time, these empty halls will be packed with thousands of people from all over the world. The Roy gets to the back with the limo driver dragging his luggage behind him. The Roy notices somebody closing up an exit just a few feet away.
Outside of that door there is a man sitting beside a dumpster. In just the two seconds we see him, we gather that he is an African American man wearing a sweater like green hat on his head. His shirt was all white with several tears and rips. His jeans have white paint all splashed all across them and his hair is frizzed all over. His facial hair is growing wild, with a few unidentifiable particles inside the brustling forest like growth. Lost in a trance at the now closed door, The Roy hears a voice that reaches in past the waters of his self conscious and pulls him out of the loop.
“You coming?”
The Roy turns to the limo driver and with stern lips he replies,
“Yeah, just give me a sec.”
The Roy turns his attention back to the door. He walks over to the large green steal exit and removes the wooden board that keeps it sealed. Slowly he opens it and approaches the man.
“Hi…my names Roy”
“ehh”
The voice is scratchy. He seems weak and almost out of it. The Roy who had extended his hand, now withdraws it. He sits down next to the guy, propped against a dirty brick wall. The mans eyes grow slightly wide as he begins speaking.
“You..you’re that guy on the poster out front aren’t you.?”
“Haha, why yes I am. Thank you for noticing.”
“Sir, I hope I wouldn’t be out of line for asking you this but..do you have fifty cents?”
“Actually yes, I do. As I am sure you could imagine, my finances are in pretty good order. However I hope I wouldn’t be out of line by asking you….why should I give you my money? I mean not to be rude but I have been seeing you all my life. Not you specifically, but…you know. You’re type. You would hassle me as I came out of the CVS. I’d walk on the other side of the street just to avoid you but in that brief second our eyes would meet. I would wonder…what is that guys life story? I could never just ask the guy because really, how awkward would that be? But these past few weeks I’m discovering I am much happier being a man of action. I’m tired of wondering so I ask you buddy, how is it that you have such low pride that you can beg me for my pocket change before I even know you’re name?”
“Well my…my name is Lloyd sir.”
“Lloyd huh? Well Lloyd, what is it you need fifty cents for? What will I be investing in?”
“Well sir, I..I haven’t had a hot meal in so long. If I could just scrape a few pennies together, I could maybe get something to eat from the corner store. I’ve been digging in these dumpsters for so long and I…I’m just getting weak.”
“A meal? Well Lloyd I can’t help but notice that brown bag right there beside you. Covering a beer bottle no doubt?”
The Roy’s words are soft spoken. He seems to have honestly taken an interest in this man and his life. He leans forward, his jeans brushing against the concrete and he wraps his fingers around the bottle in the brown bag. Placing in in his lap, he sits back. The Roy unwraps the beverage like a Christmas present, examining the label. He then looks back into the eyes of the beaten down man beside him…
“I know this particular brand of Vodka Lloyd, it’s no cheap drink pal. It costs more than just a few pennies. Where’d you get the money for this?”
The man sits staring back at The Roy. His lips say nothing, but his face shows shame. His blood shot eyes look almost teary. His hands quiver in his lap banging into one another.
“You don’t have to answer that Lloyd…I already know pal. This very bottle caused me my own ills as well. Apparently it hardships sailed the sea’s of your manor as well. The tall tale of this dastardly villian echoes all across the world. Asians, Indians, Blacks Whites…we all have our own pain. You just thought this would be your coping didn’t you? With each sip, you stood burying your own lonely grave. Undoubtedly this substance is the reason you rest in an alley,…yes?”
The man still says nothing. He turns his eyes away from The Roy, then slowly his head. It turns away like a rusted cog struggling to inch through. His eyes are heavy with bag under bag dripping beneath his pupil. He says nothing, but the silence says enough.
“It’s alright friend. I’m not here to judge you…”
The Roy leans back further against the wall getting comfortable. He stretches his legs out like a scroll unraveling for the first time. He leans his head back and takes in a deep breath. His face is lit up bright by yet another sign hanging from the arena. A massive match, a monumental meeting advertised in neon lights draped over brick.
“Have you ever wondered how you got to where you are Lloyd? What choices have you made that brought you here. What choices would you pick differently if given the chance. I believe that our lives are defined by the choices we make. Even those we miss. Everyday we come in contact with dozens of people. A lot of the time we judge those same fellows in the ten minute window of their life that we see in just that one day. Truth is you can know somebody for years, and not truly know that person. Tonight, my path interlocks with that of two others. Ussually I would be in the ring ranting on a microphone about what lost causes these guys are but as I grow older Lloyd, I learn that what I say doesn’t matter much. Life progresses with actions, not speech. I think it’s amazing how me, Tyger and Shane will all meet tonight. It feels like a battle of generations.
Tyger the past, Shane the future, me somewhere in the middle. Usually I would refer to myself as the present but I’m not so sure anymore. I’ve been slipping for a while now. Tonight at the bash, for the first time in a long time, I feel like I can actually do this. I feel like, maybe I can actually win this. I speak out a lot, always saying I’m going to win but that just proves you never really know a person. You shouldn’t hang on their words because when you discover they’re just a lie you end up falling flat on your ass. Point being that even though I say I’m going to prevail, I don’t always feel it ya know? The world is making more and more sense to me everyday, while at the same time I feel more lost than I ever have. Is my place in this match? Do I truly belong being placed as the present. I don’t know but I guess the world is going to find out at the same time as me.
I truly believe that even if circumstances see that it not be my hand raised above them, shall I not be the victor to whom the spoils go to…the state of the federation will still be in good hands. Such an explosive match though Lloyd. There’s no statistics to go on. You’d have better luck shaking a magic eight ball to predict this one. So many elements to take into consideration. Three very different people from different cuts of the mold. In one corner we have Justin Tyger. The past of wrestling. A man who has earned his own over the years. Will it be him who wins the match with one final hoo ra before finally untying those laces…and hanging them up? Or will defeat be thy name? Will victory go to the future of our brand. Insane Shane Whelan. Will Shane finally stop being good, and start being good enough? Will Shane finally step up as the present, and shock the world? Or will it be I, who proves himself to truly be the present in WWE. Does The Roy still have it in him to brawl with the big dogs? God I hope so.
I lost to Raven a few weeks and it completely broke me. I felt like that may have been my last chance Lloyd. In the WWE there is a fine golden belt carved by the gods to which every one of us looks up to with swollen eyes and we weep, praying that one day that glorious spectacle may be ours to call our own. Without that magnificent treasure, my job, my paycheck, my fellow employees…they all mean nothing to me. I cannot thrive in this atmosphere unless I know that the world title is somewhere around the corner. I think that maybe, just maybe if I don’t prove to myself tonight that I am worthy of the holy grail….then perhaps I should not be here anymore. Perhaps I should walk out those arena doors tonight, and never enter another. But who knows Lloyd, it’s just a feeling. They come and they go.
It’s funny….I can remember just a few weeks ago I told my boss I needed a number one contenders match at this bash. We discussed potential opponents. Perhaps Shane who would love to get a chance for his first win over me. Perhaps Justin Tyger who also is undefeated against the young buck. I knew that one of them would be the guy I face, but I never would have guessed that it would be both of them. A true obstacle for sure. If you were to ask me if I still have what it takes to brawl with these men I‘d tell you yes every time with no stutter in my voice but lately, my judgment hasn‘t been the best…sometime’s I just can’t help but wonder….how did I get to where I am.
The man stares blankly in front of himself, for the first time in a while he begins to speak.
“I had three kids….I had a wife. I was living the American dream. I started drinking, staying out late with my friends. I came in one night and I found my wife mounted on my brother. That’s when things all fell apart for me. I drank more. I stayed out longer. I had already lost her, and eventually I lost my kids. I lost my home…my dog…my car. I lost everything. I live my life inside the bar running a tab I pay for with the money I make at night begging complete strangers for money, hoping they spare me some. They throw me out at 2 A.M and I come back here. I sleep with the rats and sometimes I literally cry myself to sleep. I live day after day in front of millions of people, but I feel completely alone. I..I know exactly how I got here and I just wish I could forget it all. The beer helps me to do that until sunrise, all the memories fly right back.
There’s a revolver laying right under that dumpster. Sometimes at night I sit here with the barrel pointed down my gullet. As I taste the cold iron on my tongue I think back to that night. I see my wife’s beautiful brown eyes looking at me while my brother stumbles over his words. I see my gorgeous daughters waving goodbye as I drop them off at school. I think of how much I miss their smiles, and I wonder if they ever even think of daddy anymore. The tears rush down my face and I pull the trigger. As it clicks I am reminded that I am too poor to even afford bullets to put in the chambers. I lay here praying for sweet release but it never comes….”
The old man grows silent. He breathes lightly, with tears falling hard from his eyes. The Roy wraps his arm around the mans shoulders and comforts him. Almost at a loss for words The Roy scrapes through the darkness in his mind and pulls out a few words to help the man out.
“Lloyd…I’m so sorry man. Everybody on this earth is all headed in the same direction…we just take different paths to get their. Some are drunks…some are professional wrestlers. The important thing to remember is…it’s never too late to change course. Be you fifteen, or be you fifty. It’s never too late. I too have tasted the iron of that barrel, metaphorically speaking of course. I too wanted release, but I realized that if I don’t like something about my life…all I have to do is change it. Just change Lloyd. Don’t pick the bottle up anymore, get a job. Earn a living and start over. In a few hours I may be doing the same thing but I have prayed everyday for the last week that it not come to that. I pray that my current path smoothes out with a win tonight but if it does not…. Then that’s ok Lloyd. I know that I can always start over.
The Roy stands up, brushing off his pants. He looks down at the destroyed man in tears and extends his arm once more. The man reaches out, and The Roy helps him to his feet.
“I don’t necessarily believe in god or fait, but tonight I do believe it was meant for me to meet you. You’ve made me realize a lot about myself Lloyd. I thank you for that, and in return I offer you this advice. Start living your life. This shallow hole you’ve built for yourself does not have to be your grave, rather just a chapter in a long tale. Take this day and make the most of it. If there’s something you want, you just set forth the goals you need to get there and you knock them out one by one. I’m going to walk through those doors and I am going to gear up. I am going to walk to the center of a war zone ring and I am going to kick ass. I am going to face the two biggest beasts in the WWE and I will give it my everything. I will leave a lot of things in the ring tonight.
Blood, sweat, tears, teeth, maybe even bones but the one thing I will be damn sure not to leave…is regrets. Our life is defined by opportunities…even those we miss. I refuse to be defined as anything less than the best….the greatest…The Roy. And Lloyd…I want you to do the same thing.
The Roy turns off and he heads into the arena. The inside of the building is almost a blur due to the illuminating lights that shoot out all around The Roy leaving him to dangle as a shadow. It’s as if an angel is descending to heaven. It is clear the WWE is The Roy’s salvation. The door slowly inches closed, and for some reason the camera man is left behind. Perhaps the words have spoken to his heart as well, leaving him immobilized. It is unsure as to why he chose to stay, but we can hear as he cuts off the visual feed. Before the audio dies out we hear the homeless man sniffle, pulling back his tears. Very gently he whispers…
“Thank you….”
To those words of gratitude and undying emotion, the camera completely dies out.
