Wiser Times
Here with me and this price you pay…
(FADEIN: A black and white scratched up highlight reel from the Sweet Sixteen round. ‘The Wolf’ MIKE RANDALLS post-match, quickly walking out of his locker room with his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He’s still in his wrestling gear, except for the sandals and cowboy hat shielding his face…)
Just a wishful dream... can be blown away.
(To the left and right of RANDALLS reporters swarm around him with cameramen following and flickering their flash bulbs rapidly. RANDALLS tries walking through the crowd as they shout at him…)
REPORTER: “Mike! Mike! How do you feel about advancing to the Elite!?”
REPORTER: “Are you making a statement by using a more ground-based submission style offense so far?”
(RANDALLS keeps walking through the crowd of reporters and cameraman, simply ignoring them.)
REPORTER: “C’mon, Mike…you haven’t given us a quote all tournament!”
(RANDALLS pauses for a moment, a few feet away from the exit door...his back is now to the beehive of industry press, his head hanging down and shadowing his face as he stands there frozen in place…)
V/O: (only heard by Mike) “YOU’RE NOT A CHAMPION! YOU’RE A FRAUD!”
(RANDALLS turns his head slightly to the cameras, one of his jaggedly scarred forearms blocking the bright white lights from the filming and flickering cameras. His emerald eyes squint as he lowers his hat slightly…)
RANDALLS: “…There’s nothing to say to the world except I’m only halfway to the only match that matters...(RANDALLS nods to everyone) I’ll leave the rest of my talking to Chip Friendly and what happens in the ring.”
(RANDALLS turns around as the reporters clamor and groan with more questions, he heads straight for the exit door and pushes it open, staring for a moment into the crescent moon dimly glowing above him.)
V/O: “You know Mike…one day you’re going to fall off your lonely pedestal…”
(FLASH CUTTO: The ‘flashback’ locker room scene at Elvis Lives XII introduced during the Sweet Sixteen round. Sitting on a bench, sweaty and smiling crookedly is a younger MIKE RANDALLS. His devilish glare is looking straight at the disheveled, flushed and visibly upset CHAD MERRITT, founder and former owner of the CSWA and the namesake for the TEAM Invitational Tournament trophy.)
RANDALLS: “You’ve wished that upon me since the day you realized the twenty million dollars you threw at me to save this den of deceit, betrayal…”
MERRITT: “Don’t talk to me about betrayal, Mike.”
RANDALLS: (laughs) “Why not? You’re the Godfather of it.”
MERRITT: (shaking his head) “What you did tonight…you betrayed the SPORT. You betrayed every purist fan you had left. You’re nothing to anyone anymore, but yourself.”
(RANDALLS’ smile fades, he starts getting angry…)
MERRITT: “You can blame me for anything you want, Mike…but I’m done with you…when your contract runs out…WE’RE DONE.”
RANDALLS: (laughs) “You think that’s gonna make me fall, Chad? I don’t need this place, these fans or you whatsoever.”
MERRITT: (shrugs) “I don’t care.”
(MERRITT heads for the door…he starts to exit, but stops as RANDALLS speaks…)
RANDALLS: “Maybe I will fall, Chad…maybe I’ll fall so far you never recognize me again.”
MERRITT: (laughs and shakes his head) “Mike…that might be the only way you get saved.”
(MERRITT exits as the scene slowly fades to black.)
*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
No time left now for shame…
(FADEIN: A side view of ‘The Wolf’ MIKE RANDALLS somewhere on the white beaches of Florida, watching dusk slowly set to evening. There’s distant orange and red streaks leading to a midnight blue and waking half moon. He’s wearing a half-buttoned collared tropical silk shirt, drawstring board shorts and no shoes. His sunglasses are on his forehead, keeping his auburn hair pushed back and blowing in the slight breeze.)
Horizons behind me, no more pain…
RANDALLS: “I could ask myself for better or worse, if this is all just good luck. Or if I’ve proven anything to anyone, but I just realize that means nothing to nobody including my own motivation. In Chip Friendly…I won’t expect any sort of streaming soliloquies about the sun, moon and stars resonating with the tides of momentum we face in the wrestling ring. (RANDALLS smirks) Truth be told as I watch the Dusk turn to stardust, I now realize the harsher reality of my journey. The temptation to win out of pride, foregoing the discipline of not fighting blind. So easy to bend my will, so I can break another…”
(RANDALLS’ smile fades and he turns his head so his emerald eyes look at the camera.)
RANDALLS: “It is an ongoing struggle I don’t intend to lose, but do not believe that stops me from finding anyone’s surrender. The Way of my path is long with the first and only beginning steps here in TEAM. I have fallen through Mother Earth, risen as a Phoenix so I could sacrifice my ashes to those I believed I’ve wronged.”
(In the background, the sunset is complete. RANDALLS looks up to the bright moon, a small smile creeps on his face…)
RANDALLS: “It is only after ten years gone that the Way has brought me full-circle to a tournament and trophy…a trophy that not only represents a man I’ve forsaken, but also the time-honored traditions and a torch bearing responsibility to the gift I’ve been given as a wrestler.”
(RANDALLS’ eyes return to the camera and he slowly turns to face it…)
RANDALLS: “Chip Friendly, whether you choose to make me smile or try to dig under my metaphorical skin and pick ‘till I bleed…some words are never meant to be said, unless you want them to haunt your dying days. I’m not here for forgiveness, I’m not here for any wrestler’s respect…I’m here because I can be…”
(FADETOBLACK)
“And a chance at redemption is something I’ll die to protect.”
**centered italics courtesy of the Black Crowes**
