Post by defunctlies on Mar 1, 2008 8:19:06 GMT -6
The scene opens on a muddy track on an early morning, trees flanking the sides of the track, leaves budding on the spindly branches, the wind making them rattle, the only sound in the still morning air.
After a few seconds, however, the sound of heavy footfalls and paced breathing approaches, and Jack Hammond finally jogs into view past the camera, running off down the deserted track. The angle changes, the camera cutting so that it's traveling alongside Jack as he jogs, his voice cutting across the sound of his feet hitting the ground and breath, which escapes in short heavy bursts, visible in the cold air.
"I like jogging. The sense of freedom is immense; I can go where I want. I'm alone. The feel of my trainers as they slap down on to the rough, broken path, made noisier by the stones, slick and wet from recent rain."
The camera continues to cut between shots of Jack jogging down the path, taking different angles, either following him or watching him pass as the voiceover continues.
"It wasn't always like this though. A year ago, I had an accident whilst training; I was trying to show off and I ended up in hospital with a severe injury to my brain. For three months, I had to stay in hospital, trying to get better. The injury basically rendered my useless, as I had no short-term memory and got confused pretty easily. A prime example was when they'd come to me with a menu for lunch, I'd choose something, and when they arrived ten minutes later with what I'd asked for, I'd be pleasantly surprised, asking how they knew what I wanted."
Jack finally runs past the camera one last time, the next transition showing him now walking back up the muddy path, talking to the camera now.
"However, the accident didn't just affect me. My wife and my kids; they suffered too, with my wife staying by my side all throughout the time I was in hospital, even though in my state of mind, I couldn't exactly remember who she was and why she was being so nice to me."
Jack shrugs, but continues to talk.
"Eventually, I did get better, and my brain did fix itself, but I was still wounded mentally. I'd lost confidence in my abilities, scared I would do it again and put my family through another traumatic experience. I was ready to pretty much give up on wrestling altogether."
Jack pauses in his stride, his face growing a little more serious before cocking an eyebrow.
"So, you may be asking; what the hell am I doing in the nCw?"
He cracks a grin before continuing his walk.
"That desire to compete was reignited in me when I was allowed to get out of the house and be by myself. For months, I'd been stifled by nurses, doctors, family and friends, having to stay in bed and rest. Being allowed to go on a run and have time to think to myself, enjoying whatever I come across; be it a fantastic view or a nice hill to climb. Slowly, I got back into the routine of working out, letting my self-confidence grow again, slowly but surely. And then finally, about six months ago, I got back into a wrestling ring. I discovered how much I'd missed that experience and how much passion I still had to get into a ring and wrestle."
Jack picks up the pace again, the camera still following alongside him.
"When I got my shot at coming to nCw, I was overjoyed. I could hardly believe my luck, and my family, despite the risk of me quite easily suffering another injury, supported me all the way. All my fears were simply obliterated that first time I went out into the ring, and I've never looked back."
He runs past the camera and the scene changes again, Jack now sitting on a wooden fence, watching the sun rise higher into the sky, his breath still visible in the cool morning air.
"This Sunday, I'll be competing in my first PPV; Sovereign. And I'll be honest; I'm not particularly sure I'll win. My opponent certainly has a lot going for him, coming off an impressive victory in a Last Man Standing match against his brother, and I had firsthand experience as to his abilities, seeing as that STF he applied on last Sunday's match left an impression. Now I face him one-on-one, and quite frankly, I've been hearing a lot of people feel that betting on me to win is like betting on a pig to fly anytime soon. I'm not surprised, frankly, seeing as my performances haven't exactly been 'glowing'."
Jack hops down off the fence, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Plus, JFK's recent promo has led many more people to believe that I've got a better chance of spontaneously combusting than I have of beating him at Sovereign. However, I'd like to draw your attention to a couple of things that I picked up on during JFK's talk. First off is his claim that he is 'better than me'. Quite frankly, that could be viewed as being purely as being a personal standpoint, and in JFK's case, sure, he has been in the business longer than me, and he's certainly achieved a lot more than me in that respect. Sure he managed to blindside me in last weeks match a couple of times, and I nearly tapped out to the STF, but keep in mind that JFK was on a roll until I hit him with a 'Mustang', and it's not something that's supposed to tickle. Then again, straight afterwards I got my head taken off by Dark Prophet and then Sexy Jason pretty much took all the wind out of my sails."
He shrugs to camera, rolling his shoulders as he continues his slow walk along the rutted path.
"And quite frankly, mate, I have to question your condition, seeing as you seemed to be quite intoxicated when you shot that promo. I'm not calling your judgement at that time into question, and I have no doubts that you are a fantastic athlete; trust me I know how good you are, it's just that you asking me to bring my 'A' game to the ring on Sunday seems a little hollow. That doesn't mean to say I'm going to treat the match with an offhand sort of manner and hope for the best."
Jack's expression hardens.
"I will definitely show you the fruits of my labour, and the spirit I have. The work I put in to get to where I am today isn't something I brag about; in fact it's something that I could never wish upon anyone else, but I don't want you to simply dismiss me as just another rung in the ladder to greatness; something that you view as an annoyance. You've defeated champions and true competitors, and maybe on Sunday you'll defeat me, but I promise; I will not lie down. I will not make it easy. I will give you a challenge that you will not soon forget, and if you think I'm scared about losing my life or getting back in a hospital bed, think again. I will fight tooth and nail to see that doesn't happen again."
Jack cracks a grin, walking past the camera as it pans around to show a stripped down looking 4x4 parked by the side of the road. He walks towards it, before turning and leaning against the door.
"This Sunday, JFK, I guarantee I'll prove that you're not simply better than me. Win or lose, I want you to understand how our passion, or drive, our desire to be the best makes us equals. And you can accept that, then I'm willing to have that beer with you and chat about cars."
He steps into the 4x4, starting her up and driving off down the muddy path into the distance as the scene fades out.
After a few seconds, however, the sound of heavy footfalls and paced breathing approaches, and Jack Hammond finally jogs into view past the camera, running off down the deserted track. The angle changes, the camera cutting so that it's traveling alongside Jack as he jogs, his voice cutting across the sound of his feet hitting the ground and breath, which escapes in short heavy bursts, visible in the cold air.
"I like jogging. The sense of freedom is immense; I can go where I want. I'm alone. The feel of my trainers as they slap down on to the rough, broken path, made noisier by the stones, slick and wet from recent rain."
The camera continues to cut between shots of Jack jogging down the path, taking different angles, either following him or watching him pass as the voiceover continues.
"It wasn't always like this though. A year ago, I had an accident whilst training; I was trying to show off and I ended up in hospital with a severe injury to my brain. For three months, I had to stay in hospital, trying to get better. The injury basically rendered my useless, as I had no short-term memory and got confused pretty easily. A prime example was when they'd come to me with a menu for lunch, I'd choose something, and when they arrived ten minutes later with what I'd asked for, I'd be pleasantly surprised, asking how they knew what I wanted."
Jack finally runs past the camera one last time, the next transition showing him now walking back up the muddy path, talking to the camera now.
"However, the accident didn't just affect me. My wife and my kids; they suffered too, with my wife staying by my side all throughout the time I was in hospital, even though in my state of mind, I couldn't exactly remember who she was and why she was being so nice to me."
Jack shrugs, but continues to talk.
"Eventually, I did get better, and my brain did fix itself, but I was still wounded mentally. I'd lost confidence in my abilities, scared I would do it again and put my family through another traumatic experience. I was ready to pretty much give up on wrestling altogether."
Jack pauses in his stride, his face growing a little more serious before cocking an eyebrow.
"So, you may be asking; what the hell am I doing in the nCw?"
He cracks a grin before continuing his walk.
"That desire to compete was reignited in me when I was allowed to get out of the house and be by myself. For months, I'd been stifled by nurses, doctors, family and friends, having to stay in bed and rest. Being allowed to go on a run and have time to think to myself, enjoying whatever I come across; be it a fantastic view or a nice hill to climb. Slowly, I got back into the routine of working out, letting my self-confidence grow again, slowly but surely. And then finally, about six months ago, I got back into a wrestling ring. I discovered how much I'd missed that experience and how much passion I still had to get into a ring and wrestle."
Jack picks up the pace again, the camera still following alongside him.
"When I got my shot at coming to nCw, I was overjoyed. I could hardly believe my luck, and my family, despite the risk of me quite easily suffering another injury, supported me all the way. All my fears were simply obliterated that first time I went out into the ring, and I've never looked back."
He runs past the camera and the scene changes again, Jack now sitting on a wooden fence, watching the sun rise higher into the sky, his breath still visible in the cool morning air.
"This Sunday, I'll be competing in my first PPV; Sovereign. And I'll be honest; I'm not particularly sure I'll win. My opponent certainly has a lot going for him, coming off an impressive victory in a Last Man Standing match against his brother, and I had firsthand experience as to his abilities, seeing as that STF he applied on last Sunday's match left an impression. Now I face him one-on-one, and quite frankly, I've been hearing a lot of people feel that betting on me to win is like betting on a pig to fly anytime soon. I'm not surprised, frankly, seeing as my performances haven't exactly been 'glowing'."
Jack hops down off the fence, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Plus, JFK's recent promo has led many more people to believe that I've got a better chance of spontaneously combusting than I have of beating him at Sovereign. However, I'd like to draw your attention to a couple of things that I picked up on during JFK's talk. First off is his claim that he is 'better than me'. Quite frankly, that could be viewed as being purely as being a personal standpoint, and in JFK's case, sure, he has been in the business longer than me, and he's certainly achieved a lot more than me in that respect. Sure he managed to blindside me in last weeks match a couple of times, and I nearly tapped out to the STF, but keep in mind that JFK was on a roll until I hit him with a 'Mustang', and it's not something that's supposed to tickle. Then again, straight afterwards I got my head taken off by Dark Prophet and then Sexy Jason pretty much took all the wind out of my sails."
He shrugs to camera, rolling his shoulders as he continues his slow walk along the rutted path.
"And quite frankly, mate, I have to question your condition, seeing as you seemed to be quite intoxicated when you shot that promo. I'm not calling your judgement at that time into question, and I have no doubts that you are a fantastic athlete; trust me I know how good you are, it's just that you asking me to bring my 'A' game to the ring on Sunday seems a little hollow. That doesn't mean to say I'm going to treat the match with an offhand sort of manner and hope for the best."
Jack's expression hardens.
"I will definitely show you the fruits of my labour, and the spirit I have. The work I put in to get to where I am today isn't something I brag about; in fact it's something that I could never wish upon anyone else, but I don't want you to simply dismiss me as just another rung in the ladder to greatness; something that you view as an annoyance. You've defeated champions and true competitors, and maybe on Sunday you'll defeat me, but I promise; I will not lie down. I will not make it easy. I will give you a challenge that you will not soon forget, and if you think I'm scared about losing my life or getting back in a hospital bed, think again. I will fight tooth and nail to see that doesn't happen again."
Jack cracks a grin, walking past the camera as it pans around to show a stripped down looking 4x4 parked by the side of the road. He walks towards it, before turning and leaning against the door.
"This Sunday, JFK, I guarantee I'll prove that you're not simply better than me. Win or lose, I want you to understand how our passion, or drive, our desire to be the best makes us equals. And you can accept that, then I'm willing to have that beer with you and chat about cars."
He steps into the 4x4, starting her up and driving off down the muddy path into the distance as the scene fades out.