Post by Victor Kovalevich on May 1, 2011 22:24:44 GMT -5
The scene opens in a well-lit but mostly empty boxing gym. The gathering darkness outside suggests it is late evening, meaning most of the gym's usual attendees have left for the day. Standing in one corner near the heavy punching bags is Victor Kovalavich, a promising heavyweight fighter who towers over most of the other men in the gym. With him is his manager, Arthur June, a tall thin man with wispy silver hair who looks to be well into his fifties. Both are wearing street clothes, and seem to be having a rather heated discussion.
Victor: Its been four months! How can you tell me to be patient when I'm not even booked yet?
Arthur's expression is strained as he listens to the outburst, but he doesn't cringe away from the bigger man. He was used to fighters growing frustrated, though he's never had any problems with Victor before. That wasn't too remarkable, though; up until now things had been going pretty good for them.
Arthur: Look, Victor, I'm doing everything I can, but after what you did to Rico in your last match he might never fight again. You've got to understand that any manager worth a damn is going to think twice before booking one of their fighters in a match with someone known to do that sort of damage. I know I would.
Victor: Rico was a bum! He never would have amounted to anything anyway, so who cares if his career is over? If you ask me, and believe me I know you aren't, I did the poor bastard a favor! Maybe now he'll go and get a job he's half decent at!
The last few fighters are trickling out now, doing their best to feign disinterest in the scene Victor was causing. For his part the big man seems not to notice or care that anyone else is in the gym at all. Nevertheless, being allowed to vent some steam seems to have improved Victor's mood somewhat, and his demeanor is a little calmer as he continues.
Victor: Besides, that was just one boxer. The other managers can't hold that against me forever can they?
Having waited patiently for Victor's mini-tirade to subside, Arthur jumps back into the conversation readily.
Arthur: One boxer? What about Borlinni from two matches ago? He's fighting again, thank God, but it was a close thing after what you did to his collarbone.
Without giving Victor a chance to retort he presses on.
Arthur: The truth is with your reputation for causing serious injuries, no one will even talk to me about a match. I've been trying Victor, believe me, but there just isn't much more for us to do at this point. Its time to face the fact that as things stand you might not get another match for a long time.
There is a long pause while Victor considers this, gears turning furiously inside his head. He knew that when Arthur said a long time, he really meant never. Finally his frustration boils over and he brings his fist up, slamming it into the nearest punching bag and sending it rocking back. As quickly as his anger had come he found it was evaporating into despair. Reaching out for the swinging bag, he takes hold of it with both hands, resting his forehead against it in a defeated gesture. Really he had suspected for quite some time that this news was coming, but that didn't make it any easier to hear.
Arthur: Hey, don't give up yet. We can still get you in the ring again.
Lifting his head up, Victor looks over at Arthur, confusion written all over his face.
Victor: For fuck's sake, why didn't you say that in the first place?
Arthur: Well, our problem is that nobody wants to risk getting in the ring with you. But some fighters don't have any say in the matter. All we've got to do is find the right venue for you, see?
Victor's blank stare makes it clear that he doesn't see, and Arthur quickly continues, knowing it is only a matter of time until the big man's mood degrades again.
Arthur: We both know you've got a lot of heart, and the sheer size of you doesn't hurt either, right? But none of that matters if we can't book you in a match. I'm just gonna come out and ask; how would you feel about trying another kind of fighting? Wrestling maybe?
Now the pieces were coming together in Victor's mind. He could see where Arthur was coming from, as manager it was his job to find whatever action he could and make sure his fighters were a part of it. Still, he isn't exactly thrilled with the idea of a career change. Boxing is what he knows.
Victor: I'm not sure. After spending so much time training to fight as a boxer I don't know if I could adapt.
A trainer calls to them from over by the door.
Trainer: Hey! I'm about to lock up for the night.
Arthur: All right, all right! We're on our way.
Turning back to Victor the aging manager inclines his head toward the door.
Arthur: Looks like its time to get going. Think about what I said, all right? We'll pick this up another time.
Victor nods, though he's pretty sure he wants nothing to do with the idea, and the two of them head outside. The trainer follows them out, along with one last fighter finally finished training for the day. The fighter, who Victor recognises as Bob Monroe, walks up to him and Arthur.
Bob: Hey, I'm headed to the diner, you two want to come along?
Wanting some time to work things through, Victor shakes his head.
Victor: Raincheck, Bob. I'm pretty tired, I think I'll just head home and maybe take a nap.
Bob: Come on, guys, I hate sitting alone in a restaurant. Its on me.
Arthur: Never say no to anything free, that's what I always say. You coming Victor?
Feeling at this point it might be rude to refuse, Victor shrugs his shoulders, wordlessly accepting the offer. In what seems like no time at all the three of them are seated in a both, engaged in idle chatter. At first Victor stays mostly silent, but as his mood begins to lighten he participates in the conversation more and more. The talk inevitably turns to fighting, specifically Bob's next match. When they've finally exhausted that topic, Bob looks up at Victor.
Bob: So what about you? Got anything lined up yet?
Glancing away, Victor doesn't answer, but Arthur chimes in to prevent an awkward silence.
Arthur: Actually, I was just talking to him about trying wrestling. The boxing scene has been a bit dead lately, but there're always wrestling feds looking for fresh blood. So many guys can't handle the more frequent fights, but I think Victor's got what it takes, eh?
Bob: Of course he does. So, what do you think? Going to give it a shot?
The question was directed at Victor, who looks back towards the others, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Why was Bob so keen on the idea anyway? Boxing was practically the man's life, he was the last person Victor would have expected to support throwing in the towel.
Victor: I don't know. There's a whole new fighting style I'd need to learn just to be able to compete.
Bob: What fighting style? All those guys do is toss each other around until one or the other is too exhausted to move. Just step into the ring and do what we do best. most of those guys wouldn't be able to get up after one good uppercut. Besides, if you're really that worried about it I know a couple guys in that line of work who could be your sparring partners.
This was all too convenient. Victor looks from Bob to Arthur and back again, realizing this whole dinner had been a setup all along. He couldn't entirely blame them fro trying; without any money coming in from fights he was broke, and they probably knew that. He hadn't even paid his gym membership yet this year. Might as well tell them what they wanted to hear, even if he still wasn't too keen on the idea of being a wrestler.
Victor: All right, I'll think it over.
As soon as Victor says this Arthur opens his briefcase, pulling a document out of it.
Arthur: Here's something to read over while you think. It's a contract from a regional fed, I've been talking to them for a couple of weeks and they agreed to sign you on, but this deal is only good for so long. They want you for the next show.
Looking down at the contract Victor is thoroughly nonplussed. This was an even bigger setup then he had realized.
Victor: These guys any good?
Arthur: As far as regional feds go, they're one of the best, but you shouldn't have too much trouble with their roster once you've got a bit of training under your belt.
Though he had a feeling his manager might be exaggerating the prestige of this fed a bit, Victor nods, sliding out from the booth and standing up.
Victor: I'll think it over then.
This time he really meant it, and picks up the contract before heading for the door.
Arthur: Hey, where are you going? You haven't even eaten yet. You'll call me, right? I'll call you.
Without another word Victor pushes the door open and begins the slow, silent walk back to his apartment.
Victor: Its been four months! How can you tell me to be patient when I'm not even booked yet?
Arthur's expression is strained as he listens to the outburst, but he doesn't cringe away from the bigger man. He was used to fighters growing frustrated, though he's never had any problems with Victor before. That wasn't too remarkable, though; up until now things had been going pretty good for them.
Arthur: Look, Victor, I'm doing everything I can, but after what you did to Rico in your last match he might never fight again. You've got to understand that any manager worth a damn is going to think twice before booking one of their fighters in a match with someone known to do that sort of damage. I know I would.
Victor: Rico was a bum! He never would have amounted to anything anyway, so who cares if his career is over? If you ask me, and believe me I know you aren't, I did the poor bastard a favor! Maybe now he'll go and get a job he's half decent at!
The last few fighters are trickling out now, doing their best to feign disinterest in the scene Victor was causing. For his part the big man seems not to notice or care that anyone else is in the gym at all. Nevertheless, being allowed to vent some steam seems to have improved Victor's mood somewhat, and his demeanor is a little calmer as he continues.
Victor: Besides, that was just one boxer. The other managers can't hold that against me forever can they?
Having waited patiently for Victor's mini-tirade to subside, Arthur jumps back into the conversation readily.
Arthur: One boxer? What about Borlinni from two matches ago? He's fighting again, thank God, but it was a close thing after what you did to his collarbone.
Without giving Victor a chance to retort he presses on.
Arthur: The truth is with your reputation for causing serious injuries, no one will even talk to me about a match. I've been trying Victor, believe me, but there just isn't much more for us to do at this point. Its time to face the fact that as things stand you might not get another match for a long time.
There is a long pause while Victor considers this, gears turning furiously inside his head. He knew that when Arthur said a long time, he really meant never. Finally his frustration boils over and he brings his fist up, slamming it into the nearest punching bag and sending it rocking back. As quickly as his anger had come he found it was evaporating into despair. Reaching out for the swinging bag, he takes hold of it with both hands, resting his forehead against it in a defeated gesture. Really he had suspected for quite some time that this news was coming, but that didn't make it any easier to hear.
Arthur: Hey, don't give up yet. We can still get you in the ring again.
Lifting his head up, Victor looks over at Arthur, confusion written all over his face.
Victor: For fuck's sake, why didn't you say that in the first place?
Arthur: Well, our problem is that nobody wants to risk getting in the ring with you. But some fighters don't have any say in the matter. All we've got to do is find the right venue for you, see?
Victor's blank stare makes it clear that he doesn't see, and Arthur quickly continues, knowing it is only a matter of time until the big man's mood degrades again.
Arthur: We both know you've got a lot of heart, and the sheer size of you doesn't hurt either, right? But none of that matters if we can't book you in a match. I'm just gonna come out and ask; how would you feel about trying another kind of fighting? Wrestling maybe?
Now the pieces were coming together in Victor's mind. He could see where Arthur was coming from, as manager it was his job to find whatever action he could and make sure his fighters were a part of it. Still, he isn't exactly thrilled with the idea of a career change. Boxing is what he knows.
Victor: I'm not sure. After spending so much time training to fight as a boxer I don't know if I could adapt.
A trainer calls to them from over by the door.
Trainer: Hey! I'm about to lock up for the night.
Arthur: All right, all right! We're on our way.
Turning back to Victor the aging manager inclines his head toward the door.
Arthur: Looks like its time to get going. Think about what I said, all right? We'll pick this up another time.
Victor nods, though he's pretty sure he wants nothing to do with the idea, and the two of them head outside. The trainer follows them out, along with one last fighter finally finished training for the day. The fighter, who Victor recognises as Bob Monroe, walks up to him and Arthur.
Bob: Hey, I'm headed to the diner, you two want to come along?
Wanting some time to work things through, Victor shakes his head.
Victor: Raincheck, Bob. I'm pretty tired, I think I'll just head home and maybe take a nap.
Bob: Come on, guys, I hate sitting alone in a restaurant. Its on me.
Arthur: Never say no to anything free, that's what I always say. You coming Victor?
Feeling at this point it might be rude to refuse, Victor shrugs his shoulders, wordlessly accepting the offer. In what seems like no time at all the three of them are seated in a both, engaged in idle chatter. At first Victor stays mostly silent, but as his mood begins to lighten he participates in the conversation more and more. The talk inevitably turns to fighting, specifically Bob's next match. When they've finally exhausted that topic, Bob looks up at Victor.
Bob: So what about you? Got anything lined up yet?
Glancing away, Victor doesn't answer, but Arthur chimes in to prevent an awkward silence.
Arthur: Actually, I was just talking to him about trying wrestling. The boxing scene has been a bit dead lately, but there're always wrestling feds looking for fresh blood. So many guys can't handle the more frequent fights, but I think Victor's got what it takes, eh?
Bob: Of course he does. So, what do you think? Going to give it a shot?
The question was directed at Victor, who looks back towards the others, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Why was Bob so keen on the idea anyway? Boxing was practically the man's life, he was the last person Victor would have expected to support throwing in the towel.
Victor: I don't know. There's a whole new fighting style I'd need to learn just to be able to compete.
Bob: What fighting style? All those guys do is toss each other around until one or the other is too exhausted to move. Just step into the ring and do what we do best. most of those guys wouldn't be able to get up after one good uppercut. Besides, if you're really that worried about it I know a couple guys in that line of work who could be your sparring partners.
This was all too convenient. Victor looks from Bob to Arthur and back again, realizing this whole dinner had been a setup all along. He couldn't entirely blame them fro trying; without any money coming in from fights he was broke, and they probably knew that. He hadn't even paid his gym membership yet this year. Might as well tell them what they wanted to hear, even if he still wasn't too keen on the idea of being a wrestler.
Victor: All right, I'll think it over.
As soon as Victor says this Arthur opens his briefcase, pulling a document out of it.
Arthur: Here's something to read over while you think. It's a contract from a regional fed, I've been talking to them for a couple of weeks and they agreed to sign you on, but this deal is only good for so long. They want you for the next show.
Looking down at the contract Victor is thoroughly nonplussed. This was an even bigger setup then he had realized.
Victor: These guys any good?
Arthur: As far as regional feds go, they're one of the best, but you shouldn't have too much trouble with their roster once you've got a bit of training under your belt.
Though he had a feeling his manager might be exaggerating the prestige of this fed a bit, Victor nods, sliding out from the booth and standing up.
Victor: I'll think it over then.
This time he really meant it, and picks up the contract before heading for the door.
Arthur: Hey, where are you going? You haven't even eaten yet. You'll call me, right? I'll call you.
Without another word Victor pushes the door open and begins the slow, silent walk back to his apartment.