Post by Roger Wright on Apr 19, 2013 11:28:53 GMT -6
Whipping winds and a cool breeze forced the people of Texas to bundle up in their winter clothes, even in the month of April. Roger Wright was no different on this day, as he stood outside the brick building. There at the base of the steps he scanned from the front door to the steeple at the top. Even with what he was about to do, what he was about to go through, Roger couldn’t help but think all these buildings looked the same. Maybe not exactly, but it was always easy to spot the church, or the religious building in every city.
Today wasn’t about prayers, or salvation from a God, today was about something else, an afterhours program that many religious facilities offer. Inhaling a deep breath, Roger began the trek up the steps, counting each one as he approached the front door. Finally reaching 12, he was there, and for the first time in a long time his nerves were jumpy, and a strong desire to run and yet he pushed through that fear and that desire and pushed open the door, making his way through the main hall and towards a room in the back area.
Entering that room, Roger took quick notice of the 12 desks in a semicircular pattern along with the chair in the middle facing towards those desks. Slowly he made his way to a desk in the middle of the left hand side of the circle and sat. As he did, other people began to enter the room, taking seats and within a few minutes the room was full, every desk taken, and the chair at the front of the room occupied.
Writing on his clipboard, the man at the front scanned the people in the chairs and stopped at the sight of Roger. He cocked his head sideways, and then moved on through the group of people, finally setting his board down when he was done. “Welcome back everyone, and our new member.” The man’s hand pointed to Roger. “Would you like to introduce yourself to all of us?” He asked.
Slowly Roger stood up from the high school style desk and smiled a moment as he processed his words. “My name is Roger Wright.”
“Yeah we all know who you are.” One of the other men at a desk scoffed as Roger said his name. The others in the group let out a chuckle in return.
“Some of you may have seen me on TV, but this is about me being on TV.” Roger started to sit down but was interrupted.
“Don’t sit, by all means tell us how someone like you could possibly have any problems like us. Tell us how you fit in here with common folk, please tell us!” Across from Roger in the semicircle a man was standing up, pulling off his hood he revealed a full head of black hair and a vicious smile.
“Shane?” Roger said, but the man simple sneered at him.
“Tell us!” The man yelled back at Roger.
“Calm down, Roger can tell us when he wants to tell us.” The man at the front of the circle was now standing and trying to calm the group down.
“It’s ok.” Roger said with a sullen tone to his voice as he rose to his feet. “I could sit here and tell you about the money I have lost, or the fame that has fled from my grasp, but that isn’t what alcohol has done to me.” Roger lowered his head as he thought about everything that alcohol had taken from him.
“Tell us, tell us what makes you like us, like a normal person, or get the hell out of here and go to your celebrity rehab facility.” The man was yelling at Roger now from his chair, his anger clear.
“Tell me, what have you lost?” Roger asked of the man who yelled at him.
“My wife.” He replied quickly.
“And you?” Roger asked another man.
“My kids and family.” His head hung in shame as he answered.
“And you?” Roger asked of another man in the semicircle.
“Everything.” A tear welled up under his eye and rolled down his cheek as he spoke.
“Everything!” The word hung in the air as Roger repeated it while walking around the room. “It’s an interesting word to use, because what is everything, you have your clothes there, your life, but yet you feel that you have lost everything, and I can understand why.” Roger stopped in the middle of the semicircle and pulled in a deep breath.
My story is not a story about money, or fame, or a measurement of a man’s success through either of those things. Mine is a story of how a man can imagine his dream and then imagine what happens when that dream bites you in the ass. Maybe not so literally or as aggressively as a dog that is after you, but in a way that makes you want to curl up into your bed and cry.
For the longest time alcohol was my crutch, the thing I needed in this life more than any other. But that needs to change. But let’s start from the beginning of my spiral down the path of an empty bottle. It all started at 16, the day after my parents died. The pain was tough, and my only answer to that pain came from a bottle of Jack Daniels I found in the fridge.
Thankfully the alcohol didn’t take hold right away, because I was able to emancipate myself and not go to an orphanage, and even able to adopt my younger brother and take care of him. But slowly overtime my dependency on alcohol grew, from a bottle a week, to a bottle a day by the age of 18. The term functioning alcoholic or drunk didn’t even begin to accurately describe how I was.
Working the ranch was easy for me; I had done it all my life. Thankfully it provided for me and my brother, and at age 18 he moved out for college. I at 21 was finally able to pursue my dream, wrestling. We all probably know how that went, but what you don’t know is what exactly happened to me.
You see you want to know about my loss, I lost what mattered to me, the very things in this life that I held dear. My brother no longer talks to me, my best friend since I was five has left me to be, and most of all, and everyone laughs at the man I have become. There was a time that I had respect, not from the people that don’t know me, but the people that do, those who cared, and now that respect is gone.
Lowering his head, Roger stared at the floor as a silence filled the room. Finally after a long minute, someone spoke up. “I used to cheer for you.” The dark haired man said with a look of disappointment on his face. “You used to be like us, a man that we could all relate too, and now, you are one of us.” He smiled and stood up, walking over to give Roger a hug.
“Thank you.” Roger said as he wiped away a tear.
“Never forget where you come from friend. You are a normal person, one that over achieved by their standards, but only scraped the tip of the surface by ours and your standards.” The man stepped back. “You want redemption my friend, and you have to take it, have to strive to be the man you are, and not the man everyone else wants you to be.”
Another man was on his feet and moving towards Roger. “No one is going to help you be the man you are, you have to do that yourself. We can be here for you, be the people you connect with, but you have to walk the path yourself.” The man slapped Roger on the shoulder and stepped back as the host of his meeting walked up alongside Roger.
“Wrestling is who you are, fame is not what you need. Do not let the Iser’s of this world, or the Johnny’s take from you the man you are or the man you want to become.” The man patted Roger on the shoulder. “You have cast aside your crutch, opened your heart to the reality of the world and the pain of failure and success, this pain will drive you, and you will rise to the fight moving on in the direction you most desire.”
Standing there, basked in the warmth of the moment, Roger lowered his head and thought, for the first time in years, he had a place, a reason. “Thank you.” He said as he stepped forward and began to walk towards the door.
“Where are you going?” One man asked.
“To train, skill and heart won’t win on their own.” Roger laughed a bit as he exited the room and eventually the church itself.
Outside Roger pulled the hoodie up over his head, his hair cascading over his face. Slowly he began to walk, tucking both hands into the hoodies pocket. Minutes passed and the wind bit at his nose, but Roger found the gym and entered his newest crutch, the place that replaced alcohol as his sanctuary.
“It’s about damn time.” A small little white haired man yelled from the across the room. Shaking his head, the man grabbed his cane off the wall and limped across the gym to meet Roger. “You are way behind if you want to beat this Vanessa girl.”
“Woman.” Roger corrected as he pulled the hoodie off.
“Whatever. She is faster than you, and in some ways probably smarter. We have a lot of work to do.” The man said as he led Roger to the ring in the middle of the gym. There in the ring stood a well-built woman, her muscle definition rivaling that of many men. She smiled at Roger and winked something crazy at him.
“Winks won’t make me take it easy on you sweetie.” Roger said as he climbed into the ring and pulled off his white shirt, leaving him in only jeans and his Asics running shoes.
“I was simply trying to tell you I wouldn’t hurt you too bad pretty boy.” She smiled again and let out a series of strikes and kicks that drove Roger backwards.
“She is faster than you Roger.” The old man yelled from ringside.
Coming out of the corner, Roger circled the woman and went on the attack, but she slipped his lock up, dropping him with a kick to the back of his knee. Smiling wide she bounced around the ring and looked down at Roger as he pulled himself to his feet. “Come on Golden boy.” She said with a wide smile.
Rocking his head from side to side, Roger sized her up some more and moved in again, and again she countered his attack, dropping Roger with a series of kicks and punches. As Roger pulled himself to his feet, frustration could be clearly seen on his face. “You have to be smart Roger.” The old man yelled from ringside.
Sucking in a deep breath, Roger watched the woman, her eyes darting all over him, scanning his every move. “What is it you are looking for?” He asked.
“You tell, the action that gives you away.” She said with a smile as she moved for Roger and landed a series of kicks and punches again. “Come on, you are a former world champion, and you are letting me beat you like this? What will you do when Vanessa gets into the ring with you? Will you let her whip you like I am, or will you show the world the man you really….” The woman’s words where cut off as Roger from the ground pulled her down and rolled her into a small cradle.
On the two count the woman was up. “Clever.” She said with a smile as the two went back to the sparing match.
Outside the ring the old man watched, barking his order for Roger, telling the man to get better, to outthink his opponent. Roger had only one chance against Vanessa and the old man new it. Roger wasn’t ready, he wasn’t back yet, but he had a chance to win, he just had to put everything out of his mind. Iser would get his day, and so would Johnny, and for those days Roger would be ready. But for now it was Vanessa who had her moment, and getting Roger ready for this one would be difficult.
Today wasn’t about prayers, or salvation from a God, today was about something else, an afterhours program that many religious facilities offer. Inhaling a deep breath, Roger began the trek up the steps, counting each one as he approached the front door. Finally reaching 12, he was there, and for the first time in a long time his nerves were jumpy, and a strong desire to run and yet he pushed through that fear and that desire and pushed open the door, making his way through the main hall and towards a room in the back area.
Entering that room, Roger took quick notice of the 12 desks in a semicircular pattern along with the chair in the middle facing towards those desks. Slowly he made his way to a desk in the middle of the left hand side of the circle and sat. As he did, other people began to enter the room, taking seats and within a few minutes the room was full, every desk taken, and the chair at the front of the room occupied.
Writing on his clipboard, the man at the front scanned the people in the chairs and stopped at the sight of Roger. He cocked his head sideways, and then moved on through the group of people, finally setting his board down when he was done. “Welcome back everyone, and our new member.” The man’s hand pointed to Roger. “Would you like to introduce yourself to all of us?” He asked.
Slowly Roger stood up from the high school style desk and smiled a moment as he processed his words. “My name is Roger Wright.”
“Yeah we all know who you are.” One of the other men at a desk scoffed as Roger said his name. The others in the group let out a chuckle in return.
“Some of you may have seen me on TV, but this is about me being on TV.” Roger started to sit down but was interrupted.
“Don’t sit, by all means tell us how someone like you could possibly have any problems like us. Tell us how you fit in here with common folk, please tell us!” Across from Roger in the semicircle a man was standing up, pulling off his hood he revealed a full head of black hair and a vicious smile.
“Shane?” Roger said, but the man simple sneered at him.
“Tell us!” The man yelled back at Roger.
“Calm down, Roger can tell us when he wants to tell us.” The man at the front of the circle was now standing and trying to calm the group down.
“It’s ok.” Roger said with a sullen tone to his voice as he rose to his feet. “I could sit here and tell you about the money I have lost, or the fame that has fled from my grasp, but that isn’t what alcohol has done to me.” Roger lowered his head as he thought about everything that alcohol had taken from him.
“Tell us, tell us what makes you like us, like a normal person, or get the hell out of here and go to your celebrity rehab facility.” The man was yelling at Roger now from his chair, his anger clear.
“Tell me, what have you lost?” Roger asked of the man who yelled at him.
“My wife.” He replied quickly.
“And you?” Roger asked another man.
“My kids and family.” His head hung in shame as he answered.
“And you?” Roger asked of another man in the semicircle.
“Everything.” A tear welled up under his eye and rolled down his cheek as he spoke.
“Everything!” The word hung in the air as Roger repeated it while walking around the room. “It’s an interesting word to use, because what is everything, you have your clothes there, your life, but yet you feel that you have lost everything, and I can understand why.” Roger stopped in the middle of the semicircle and pulled in a deep breath.
My story is not a story about money, or fame, or a measurement of a man’s success through either of those things. Mine is a story of how a man can imagine his dream and then imagine what happens when that dream bites you in the ass. Maybe not so literally or as aggressively as a dog that is after you, but in a way that makes you want to curl up into your bed and cry.
For the longest time alcohol was my crutch, the thing I needed in this life more than any other. But that needs to change. But let’s start from the beginning of my spiral down the path of an empty bottle. It all started at 16, the day after my parents died. The pain was tough, and my only answer to that pain came from a bottle of Jack Daniels I found in the fridge.
Thankfully the alcohol didn’t take hold right away, because I was able to emancipate myself and not go to an orphanage, and even able to adopt my younger brother and take care of him. But slowly overtime my dependency on alcohol grew, from a bottle a week, to a bottle a day by the age of 18. The term functioning alcoholic or drunk didn’t even begin to accurately describe how I was.
Working the ranch was easy for me; I had done it all my life. Thankfully it provided for me and my brother, and at age 18 he moved out for college. I at 21 was finally able to pursue my dream, wrestling. We all probably know how that went, but what you don’t know is what exactly happened to me.
You see you want to know about my loss, I lost what mattered to me, the very things in this life that I held dear. My brother no longer talks to me, my best friend since I was five has left me to be, and most of all, and everyone laughs at the man I have become. There was a time that I had respect, not from the people that don’t know me, but the people that do, those who cared, and now that respect is gone.
Lowering his head, Roger stared at the floor as a silence filled the room. Finally after a long minute, someone spoke up. “I used to cheer for you.” The dark haired man said with a look of disappointment on his face. “You used to be like us, a man that we could all relate too, and now, you are one of us.” He smiled and stood up, walking over to give Roger a hug.
“Thank you.” Roger said as he wiped away a tear.
“Never forget where you come from friend. You are a normal person, one that over achieved by their standards, but only scraped the tip of the surface by ours and your standards.” The man stepped back. “You want redemption my friend, and you have to take it, have to strive to be the man you are, and not the man everyone else wants you to be.”
Another man was on his feet and moving towards Roger. “No one is going to help you be the man you are, you have to do that yourself. We can be here for you, be the people you connect with, but you have to walk the path yourself.” The man slapped Roger on the shoulder and stepped back as the host of his meeting walked up alongside Roger.
“Wrestling is who you are, fame is not what you need. Do not let the Iser’s of this world, or the Johnny’s take from you the man you are or the man you want to become.” The man patted Roger on the shoulder. “You have cast aside your crutch, opened your heart to the reality of the world and the pain of failure and success, this pain will drive you, and you will rise to the fight moving on in the direction you most desire.”
Standing there, basked in the warmth of the moment, Roger lowered his head and thought, for the first time in years, he had a place, a reason. “Thank you.” He said as he stepped forward and began to walk towards the door.
“Where are you going?” One man asked.
“To train, skill and heart won’t win on their own.” Roger laughed a bit as he exited the room and eventually the church itself.
Outside Roger pulled the hoodie up over his head, his hair cascading over his face. Slowly he began to walk, tucking both hands into the hoodies pocket. Minutes passed and the wind bit at his nose, but Roger found the gym and entered his newest crutch, the place that replaced alcohol as his sanctuary.
“It’s about damn time.” A small little white haired man yelled from the across the room. Shaking his head, the man grabbed his cane off the wall and limped across the gym to meet Roger. “You are way behind if you want to beat this Vanessa girl.”
“Woman.” Roger corrected as he pulled the hoodie off.
“Whatever. She is faster than you, and in some ways probably smarter. We have a lot of work to do.” The man said as he led Roger to the ring in the middle of the gym. There in the ring stood a well-built woman, her muscle definition rivaling that of many men. She smiled at Roger and winked something crazy at him.
“Winks won’t make me take it easy on you sweetie.” Roger said as he climbed into the ring and pulled off his white shirt, leaving him in only jeans and his Asics running shoes.
“I was simply trying to tell you I wouldn’t hurt you too bad pretty boy.” She smiled again and let out a series of strikes and kicks that drove Roger backwards.
“She is faster than you Roger.” The old man yelled from ringside.
Coming out of the corner, Roger circled the woman and went on the attack, but she slipped his lock up, dropping him with a kick to the back of his knee. Smiling wide she bounced around the ring and looked down at Roger as he pulled himself to his feet. “Come on Golden boy.” She said with a wide smile.
Rocking his head from side to side, Roger sized her up some more and moved in again, and again she countered his attack, dropping Roger with a series of kicks and punches. As Roger pulled himself to his feet, frustration could be clearly seen on his face. “You have to be smart Roger.” The old man yelled from ringside.
Sucking in a deep breath, Roger watched the woman, her eyes darting all over him, scanning his every move. “What is it you are looking for?” He asked.
“You tell, the action that gives you away.” She said with a smile as she moved for Roger and landed a series of kicks and punches again. “Come on, you are a former world champion, and you are letting me beat you like this? What will you do when Vanessa gets into the ring with you? Will you let her whip you like I am, or will you show the world the man you really….” The woman’s words where cut off as Roger from the ground pulled her down and rolled her into a small cradle.
On the two count the woman was up. “Clever.” She said with a smile as the two went back to the sparing match.
Outside the ring the old man watched, barking his order for Roger, telling the man to get better, to outthink his opponent. Roger had only one chance against Vanessa and the old man new it. Roger wasn’t ready, he wasn’t back yet, but he had a chance to win, he just had to put everything out of his mind. Iser would get his day, and so would Johnny, and for those days Roger would be ready. But for now it was Vanessa who had her moment, and getting Roger ready for this one would be difficult.