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I f
we practice and eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, soon the whole world
will be blind and toothless.
-
Mahatma Gandhi
Trent James has been to the top of the
mountain. He climbed and clawed his way to the peak, trekking through the most
treacherous snows, prevailing through the most prevailing winds, beating the
bitterest colds, and eliminating every element and overcoming every obstacle in
his way. It takes so long to reach the top, but the true irony is that it only
takes a moment to tumble right back down. The professional wrestling industry is
a true Sisyphean nightmare: one struggles their entire career to push the
boulder to the top and when they finally make it, it simply rolls right back
down the other side and they must begin again. For every title win Trent James has, there is some horrible occurrence to follow it.
Trent went from
Cruiserweight Champion to losing his best friend. From PPV main event superstar
to Mr. Three Seconds. From No Limits Champion to being the lone consultant for
his mother’s funeral proceedings. Trent has been through many phases in a span
of just a few short years. He grew up dirt poor in a drug infested community in
New Jersey. He found international success as a sport’s star. He’s been a Mexican
legend. He’s lived a wild party lifestyle a millionaire bachelor playboy in his
early twenties might live. He’s become a greedy, selfish, egotistical jerk. He’s
become the fan favorite of the year. And he’s seen his life spiral out of
control in deep depression and vice. For every good, there is a bad. For every
peak there is a valley. Why is it then, that each time, Trent comes anxiously
back to the ring like a child on Christmas Eve, beaming with hope that
this time things will work out for him?
It’s simply because Trent was forced to learn at a very young age that you
cannot dwell on the past and you can never give up on your dreams. Trent will
always come back, get up, keep fighting, until he’s become one of the very best
of all time. The man they call The Modern Day Superman knows that his dreams are so close to
being realized. He will be the best and nothing or no one can stop him.
(Flashbulbs ignite as Trent James, mask
removed still, poses with a smile with two middle aged women atop an auditorium
stage. Trent’s bright smile seems to outshine the cameras, oddly enough, and
most certainly illuminates the dull and dusty burgundy curtains that
circumference the dank 70’s elementary school style stage. A poster hanging from
the podium to their left reads ‘MADD’, the national recognized acronym which
stands for Mother’s Against Drunk Driving. Heavy round of applause drown out any
other sounds for the time being, until a rigid fifty-something year old woman
with a beak for a nose and seamless gray hair pulled up in a tightly coiled bun
steps her way obstinately up the over worn and under waxed stage stairs. The
loud clunks of her two sizes too small for her overwhelmingly large feet
reverberate through the auditorium and create a sudden hush over the crowd. She
trots her way towards the podium and adjusts the microphone with a very loud
piercing screech. Trent and the two women and presumably the entire crowd
suddenly cover their ears and wince in unison for a moment.)
SHREWISH WOMAN: “Once again let’s give a nice Wasamatta round of applause for
our guest speakers today. From Mothers Against Drunk Driving, Mrs. Elena
Westcott,
Miss Margie Pewter Schmidt and from Newer Evolution Wrestling, Mr. Trent James.”
(Several of the audience members, now
recognized as middle-school aged summer camp children, groan at the shrill
squawk of the parrot-like Miss Ima Byrd, the camp coordinator. One brave camper
decides to correct her addressing mistake by informing her that the it's
actually NrW and not NeW, but with hawk-like senses, she
immediately glares at him.)
IMA BYRD: “Martin! That’s three days in the yard for you!”
(Trent James peers out the side of his eyes
at Miss Byrd but continues his obviously forced at this point smile. He shakes
the hands of the two women and then follows the rap tap tapping of Miss Byrd’s
gait that, against the creaks of the wooden stage floor, immediately reminds one
of a peg legged pirate on a ship. Trent, wearing a white MADD t-shirt and a
pair of blue jeans, hurriedly makes his way out of the side exit door with the
two other MADD representatives. They slam the double doors behind them with
emphatic relief and then turn, wide-eyed, towards one another.)
TRENT: “Ok, I’ll say it. Geez what a…”
(Through the door a squawk can be heard.)
IMA BYRD: “DON’T YOU DARE SAY IT! I’ll send you to the yard too!”
(Trent is unsure if Byrd is addressing him,
but is too timid from the coincidence to indeed finish his sentence. Instead he
shudders with an icy chill up his spine.)
MARGIE: “Thank you so much again Mr. James for helping us out today. I find it
very admirable that a man of your cultural status would be so strongly in
support for the initiative against drunk driving.”
(Trent looks a bit puzzled and is unsure if
the single and menopausal Margie is hitting on him or has just been so pressured
into being politically correct with children that she naturally speaks that way.
In fact, since he met the two it has puzzled him how a single spinster-esque
middle aged woman with no children of her own would get involved with an
organization with Mothers in its title, but he figured it didn’t matter and that
the important thing was volunteering for the sake and safety of the children.
Instead, he simply smiles, thanks her and informs her that it was no problem. He
shakes both of their hands and makes his way out of the stuffy building where
his friend and confidant and personal agent, Jimmy King, is waiting for him,
stamping out a cigarette as soon as Trent opens the door.)
JIMMY: “So, how’d it go partner?”
TRENT: “You would know if you had watched!”
JIMMY: “Hey, I had an important call. At least I took it outside.”
TRENT: “Who was it?”
JIMMY: “A courtesy call from Blockbuster. Which reminds me, did I loan you that
copy of the Trailer Park Boys movie, because I haven’t seen that thing anywhere?”
(Trent just shakes his head and rolls his eyes
with a smile, refusing to get upset over something so childish and, as he often
does, forcing himself to find the humor in the situation.)
JIMMY: “Besides, if I heard another word from that bird woman, I was going to
pull out my twelve gauge and shoot her down!”
TRENT: “Jimmy!”
JIMMY: “I bet she would’ve made a good stew, too. With an ass that size, she
could’ve fed the New England Patriots!”
TRENT: “Hey, quiet down man. She might hear you. She’s libel to come peck your
eyes out!”
(The two share a laugh at the unfortunate
looking Miss Ima Byrd’s expense, as they make their way up to Trent’s newly
Enterprise rented Dodge Charger. Trent wanted something a bit better on gas,
since they’d be doing only city driving, but Jimmy insisted on some American
muscle that they could speed around in. Trent was quick to remind King that
they topped out at the furious speed of forty one miles an hour on the way over
here, thanks to the busy St. Louis traffic. They stand outside the Charger for a
minute talking, while Jimmy takes the time to light up a Marlboro. He
leans back against the Dodge red paint and takes an enthusiastic drag.)
TRENT: “Anyway, to answer your question, it went well. The kids there really were
into what I had to say. I think I made a lasting impression.”
JIMMY: “My hero.”
TRENT: “I’m not kidding, man. I feel really good about myself right now. Those
kids definitely learned something today, man. And you know what, I learned
something from them.”
JIMMY: “Oh, when did you suddenly turn into Danny Tanner?”
TRENT: “Danny Tanner?”
JIMMY: “From Full House… oh never mind. One of these days, man, I’m going to
make you sit down and watch some Nick at Night.”
TRENT: “Isn’t that the show with the Olsen twins?”
JIMMY: “Sure is. Boy, didn’t they grow up nice, eh?”
TRENT: “You’re one sick dude.”
JIMMY: “What? They’re legal now.”
TRENT: “Oy ve. In all seriousness, fucktard! This was a big deal for me. It wasn’t
that long ago when I was lost at the bottom of a bottle. Hell, I still have my
AA sponsor on my speed dial.”
JIMMY: “Maybe you should give that number to that Hopper guy? He’s like a
walking stereotype!”
TRENT: “Yeah, well, I’ve been there, I know what it’s like. I’m sure he has his
reasons. He just doesn’t see that alcohol only makes our vision blurry, it
doesn’t take away what we see, if that makes sense.”
JIMMY: “Not at all.”
TRENT: “I mean, we’re never going to forget the things that happened to us, not
even with alcohol. The only thing we can do is learn from them, not try to hide
them next to a tequila worm. What I mean is that you can’t drink away the pain.
I’ve heard about Hopper’ past and the whole thing with the IRA and his best
friend. If there’s anyone who feels his pain, it’s me. I’ve seen the gang and
drug violence, I lived it in Mexico. My whole life I’ve known nothing but
death and pain. And it is hard, but dammit, I’ve finally managed to get over all
of that and move on with my life. You know yourself, Jimmy, it took me so long
to get over what I did to Lillian. And I still probably haven’t completely
forgiven myself for putting my very own mother in harm’s way!”
JIMMY: “I know man, I know.”
(Despite all of his faults, and the fronts he
puts up, Jimmy King is still a good friend and he knows Orlando well enough to
know when he’s supposed to listen. This is one of those times.)
TRENT: “And at first, I was pissed off, I was angry with myself and with everyone
else. I wanted to join NrW and take my frustration out on everyone
I saw. Anyone who was brave enough to step into the ring with me, I wanted to just make them bleed. I wanted them to feel physically the pain I
felt inside. That’s exactly what I see in Hopper right now, man. He drinks
profusely, he cusses, he fights, he has no remorse for anyone and no shame. He
wants the world to take notice so they can feel his suffering, but the only way
he knows how to do that is with his fists. Why, if he isn’t the spitting image
of Trent James himself, We can spout of all of that bull when we’re on TV,
about making challenges and accepting them, and proving ourselves, and all of
that, but the truth is, I see right through him. He knows as well as I do that
he’s just trying to call for help, just like I was. But his pride won’t let him,
and unfortunately, like I’ve said before, I’m going to have to beat some sense
into him. He needs to be beaten and humiliated to finally get it, just like I
was.”
(Trent begins pacing back and forth in front
of Jimmy and the Charger, speaking to himself aloud more than anything, trying
to psyche himself up for his debut. It’s important for Trent to
understand the mentality of his match going in.)
TRENT: “It’s not too late, I suppose, for him to learn from my example. When I
hated the world after Lillian died, I vowed to destroy Hopper. I was
motivated, pumped and ready, so I thought, with an imagined personal vendetta on
my side. I would take out my frustrations on the hero of the people. And then I
lost. I thought I had every reason to win, I thought I wouldn’t give up no
matter what, just to beat Hopper Rose. And he was beaten, bloodied even, and it
took everything he had to beat me. I said going in that, win or lose, as long as
Hopper was beaten, I would be absolved. History will tell us all that it didn’t
work out that way. Hopper won’t be an exception. He’s saying the very same
things I said. Hell, it’s not the only time I’ve tried to take out my personal
frustrations on an opponent, either. I beat Hopper worse than perhaps anyone ever
has before, I was blinded by rage. He was responsible for my mother’s death. I
wanted to kill him! But, I lost focus, I messed up, and he won the match. I kept
my promise to beat him within an inch of his life, if not literally kill him,
but he still won the match and took my No Limits Championship. I don’t want to
see that happen again, Hopper. I don’t want to see him put all of his stock into the
this street fight for the wrong reasons. He might think that hurting me
physically is all that he needs to be proud of himself, but the truth is, he’ll
never be proud of himself until he makes a true statement.”
TRENT: “I thought I could honor the memories of my mother and Lillian by beating
my enemies. That’s not what honor truly is. I drank myself into a stupor and
vowed to rip them limb from limb, in the name of those I loved. It got me
nowhere. It won’t get Hopper anywhere, either, and I just know he’s going to
ignore me completely, take nothing I say to heart, because that’s exactly what I
did. I didn’t understand until it was too late. The statement I wanted to make
was lost. The reality is that, in NrW, people love fighters, but they respect
winners. Love is fleeting, respect lasts forever. I had the love of the fans,
but now look at me, I’m practically starting over. I lost a match to a nobody
for Christ’s sake. Look at guys like Smitty, he was loved by many, but he wasn’t
a winner, and now he’s all but forgotten. Jesse Gunn, Jeremy Clarkson, Titan, the list goes on and on and on. All of those guys had
a message, they all made a statement, they all made an impact this business. None
of them, in the end, were real winners. Sure, they may have won a few titles,
like myself, but they let their sparks fade. Each one of them would’ve gladly
settled for getting a moral victory out of a match, by beating up on the bad
guy, but end the end, it’s about the wins and the losses. That is why that
bastard Hopper Rose couldn’t even get someone to answer
a challenge! If he doesn’t want to take myself as an example, he has to but look
at his own career thus far. Obviously something’s not working! I so desperately
want to see this guy succeed, because he reminds me so much of myself, but it’s
just too damn bad that I know he won’t get it… yet.”
(Trent shakes his head in disgust.)
TRENT: “Because at Ground Zero. The next NrW Pay Per View, I’m going to face Hopper in a
street fight,
and just like it had to be done to me, I’m going to humiliate him. I don’t want
to do it, and it’s not too late for him to see the light. But sometimes if you
want to help someone, the only way to do it is turn your back on them. And with
every single punch to his head, kick to his stomach, every suplex, every
submission hold, every single move I do on him, he’s going to be
hearing it loud and clear. The ringing in his ears after I beat his brains in,
after Trent James dismantles him, is going to be a loud, constant reminder of how
he should’ve listened, how he had the chance to change things. Hopefully, it
will remind him one day to put down the bottle and open up his heart to cope
with his past.”
TRENT: “Whatever happens with him, whether he learns from this all or not,
whether our match at Ground Zero changes him, I’ll still be the one on the winning
end. I’ll still be the one who pins NrW President Hopper Rose. I’ll be a winner. And that’s
all but one step closer to being legendary.”
JIMMY: “Are you done yet? You’ve been standing here, talking to yourself for
like ten minutes!”
TRENT: “What? Huh? Oh! Oh yeah, let’s go. Why didn’t you stop me or something,
mein?”
JIMMY: “Hey, you were on a roll, I didn’t want to ruin a good thing. Plus, I
snuck in a second cigarette.”
TRENT: “You told me you were going to quit.”
JIMMY: “And I am going to… eventually.”
TRENT: “When you’re dead!”
JIMMY: “I said eventually!”
(Trent rolls his eyes and unlocks the car with
the transmitter as both men get in and shut the doors with an emphatic thud.)
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