Posted in: Just Business Just Business #38 - Truth 1:02
By Plan
Nov 1, 2009 - 7:54:02 PM
#38
Truth 1:02
My name is ‘Plan and I know a man who knows a man who has a friend who has a son. That father and that son were recently participants in a seemingly harmless conversation. What they did not know was that that conversation was a part of events that led a wholly unrelated man down a road that led to one moment and one decision.
This is the story of that one man and that one decision and how it could change everything. All our values, all our preconceptions, all the decisions and opinions we have formed in the last five years could be altered forever. Everything you thought you knew could seem suddenly obsolete thanks to that one decision.
This is Truth 1:02.
“Night and the spirit of life calling mamela.”
I stand over the sink looking down into the water. The heat in the room is tremendous. The gear has taken some getting used to again. The trunks never used to feel this tight. For several long seconds another flash of doubt singes through my mind. I quickly splash the water over my face and as the beads roll slowly back down, I look into the water and I see the truth.
I smile. I raise the eyebrow. I roll the shoulders. I still have it. Going won’t be the problem. They could be. The faint drifting sound of the millions. Or is it thousands now? How much damage have the last five years done? All I know is that right now there were throngs of frenzied fans, young and old, mostly of a single specific time waiting on the edges of their seats to see that one match that never happened.
This was the moment. I had made that decision and now I was reaping the results; whether they be a benefit or a detriment to my career remained to be seen. But for this one night, my career…it doesn’t matter.
I smile. I get the call. I’m up.
“And a voice, just the fear of a child, answers mamela.”
It had been a strange day on the day that it had all happened. It was outside the agent’s office space, the limousine sat by the sidewalk waiting patiently. It had to be about a two second walk from the front step to the curb. That’s all a fan needs.
“Excuse me sir. Mr Johnson!”
It had been a father with his son in tow. They’d wanted an autograph. Of course they’d wanted an autograph. I remember all they had on them was a dirty napkin. I remember wondering if that was all the name was worth now; a space between coffee stains on a dirty napkin? Was it awful that made me just a little smug?
So I signed it and I handed it back and I opened the back door to the limousine. I never saw the kid whisper in his Dad’s ear.
“Excuse me but…um…who’s The Rock?”
I turned to look back at him. I remember thinking I’d misheard him. Who’s The Rock?
“We just wanted your autograph pal. No need to be a shit about it.”
He had walked off before I could tell him that everyone who asks for an autograph wants one from The Rock. I had not been The Rock now for five years but he was still all the people wanted. He was still their champion. For someone to want…to want MY autograph? There was something odd about that. I have to admit it hadn’t felt right then and probably still wouldn’t.
But having said that there was still something quite reassuring about it. There was still something strangely settling about knowing that maybe there were some people out there who loved me for me and not for the eyebrow raising, tr…. I shouldn’t get carried away so often.
And as I sat down in the back of the limousine I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d managed it. Had the world finally forgotten The Rock?
“When you first come in the game they try to play you. Then you drop a couple of hits, look how they wave to you.”
The most annoying thing about it all is that they didn’t even want to know me when I started out.
“Die Rocky, Die!”
Then you start to insult them. Then you start to act like an absolute prick and they adore you. All seemed pretty back to front to me. You start mouthing off, coming up with a catchphrase or two and they go crazy whenever you open your mouth. They do exactly what you tell them to do when you tell them to do it.
They fall in love. And then before you know it your career isn’t on the rocks, it’s on cloud nine instead. World Champion. Main events. Big feuds. The push of a life time. And all I had to keep doing was say the same things every time they put a microphone in front of me and bully whoever I felt like bullying.
Then it’s Wrestlemania. Then it’s Stone Cold Steve Austin. Then it’s Triple H. Then it’s Hollywood Hulk Hogan and Goldberg.
Then it’s Hollywood and suddenly I’m the villain of the piece? Why? To what did I owe the world of wrestling? I’m not obligated to stick around all my life. I have no responsibility to surrender my entire life to the industry. I used it as a platform to acting. It makes me sound like that role I’ve never had the proper chance to play. I just need the moustache to twirl.
It just happened. When you’ve climbed to the top of one ladder it’s only natural to find a different one to ascend instead…and I’m a prick for that? I’m a sell out? I deserve the criticism? I deserve some ass bad mouthing me every chance he gets because I chose a certain career path?
Wanting to succeed isn’t a crime. I blazed a trail for myself and I don’t think it’s fair to start sticking the knife in my back for doing what I wanted to do for myself. We all look out for number one in the end.
Shit happens. Get over it.
“From Marcy to Madison Square to the only thing that matters in just a couple of years.”
Shit happened. I got over it. I thought.
I wasn’t right for the part apparently. That’s what they said in the phone call I got in the limousine. They wanted a serious actor for it. An accomplished actor. One of the types who got a pat on the back from Oscar. And I remember I sat there wondering about what the hell it was I had to do to start getting taken more seriously as an actor. I had gone so far as to say that The Rock was dead.
Ok. So I did some pretty dire shit. But I didn’t expect “Doom” to actually do what it says on the tin for god’s sake. And Walking Tall wasn’t THAT bad. Disney signed me on for a reason surely. This was the studio that hired guys like Johnny Depp and Jeremy Irons. And now Dwayne Johnson.
I’m not even a bad actor. There’s a reason I could get those millions and mi…all those fans to do what I wanted them to do when I told them to do it. I’m entertaining. I’m damned entertaining. The new Arnold Schwarzenegger. And he did the Conan films remember?
I just need the right break to get away from the image of the pro wrestler that seems to follow me EVERYWHERE. Going back just to get the fans to stop bitching about me isn’t going to do my career any favours. It’ll be a step backwards. If anything, no one wins. I’m stuck doing something I clearly don’t want to do anymore and they’re stuck seeing the guy who apparently sold out every single week. They cheer me to my face and bitch behind my back.
Why don’t they believe me when I say I love the business? I don’t have to be a part of it to love it. I don’t have to be an active wrestler to love it. They love it right? All they do is sit in front of the television a couple of days a week and they’re allowed to say they love it and I don’t see why I’m any different.
It’s all just holding me back. I won’t be getting the good roles, not even from Disney so long as they sit there bitching about me all the time. “Do the eyebrow!” “Say the catchphrase!” “Tell us a story!”
“Excuse me but…um…who’s The Rock?”
I remember those words kept ringing around my head. Some people knew me as an actor so there was some hope. But I couldn’t keep lying to myself; the wrestling thing was beginning to piss me off. It was just another cloud hanging over me that I didn’t need and frankly I was getting sick of it. Damned sick of it.
Why couldn’t they just let me be?
“When I come back like Jordon wearing the 4-5 it aint to play games with you…”
It’s not even like I totally ignore my past. I don’t deny it ever happened. I even give them an interview on the real special occasions. I guest hosted Raw and they still weren’t happy. I don’t think they ever will be.
It’s all take and no give with those guys that was the problem. The loyalty was admirable when I was there but it meant the moment I decided it wasn’t for me anymore they all started throwing spears at me. They act like they hate me.
All I’d need to do is show up, raise an eyebrow and spout off a catchphrase that doesn’t make sense and they’d eat it up eagerly just like they always used to do. Oh they’d deny it but they’d go crazy for me. That’s why they hate me. They hate me because they love me.
They love me so they hate me so they screw me over every day by still talking about The Rock; we miss The Rock; why did The Rock sell out; will The Rock ever come back? One kid wanted Dwayne Johnson’s autograph. Why doesn’t anyone else? Did the name really only deserve centre metres between coffee stains?
Then you do come back, you make that one off…and they go crazy…and then get pissed off when you won’t do it full time again, like the decision hasn’t been clear for five years already, like I don’t deserve a career anywhere else. I’m not screwing them over. I’m trying to show them I still care. And they cheer to my face and they bitch behind my back.
But I’m dangerously close to not caring any more. When I made the decision to go into movies I thought the biggest pain in the ass would be people not wanting to take me on like the pricks who told me they wanted a serious actor. I never thought it’d be bitter fans not wanting to let me live my own life and make my own decisions. They’re like bitter parents who can’t get over the idea that their kid won’t go into the family business.
And the real irony was my parents never wanted me to go into the family business in the first place. Worried I’d get hurt. Well I was getting hurt. I was getting hurt leaving the business and sometimes I wonder if I regret going into wrestling in the first place or not.
I wish I didn’t.
“And I need you to remember one thing; I came, I saw, I conquered.”
It was when I got home that same day that things started getting really weird. If keeping titles I’d won over the years wasn’t proof I still cared I don’t know what is. Did they think it was coincidence that they were always in the background when I did those guest skits?
Well one of them had slipped down. Seeing as these things were all at the front of my mind since that kid and his dad I remember I’d opened the cabinet up to stand the championship belt back up properly. I backed up and stood there, looking at the three of them. They were beautiful. I did miss those days sometimes. Even the bitterness I knew was growing more and more as the acting career continued to drag its feet didn’t stop me from missing those days sometimes.
And then I got to thinking…what if I did go back? The Rock never got dirty napkins and coffee stains; he got silver pens and autograph books. He got millions and millions of fans chanting his name. He was adored while Dwayne…. Well, Dwayne got nothing but stick.
What if I did go back? John Cena. Shawn Michaels. Randy Orton. The Miz. Kofi Kingston. Jack Swagger. MVP. A slew of possibilities. And I just knew the fans would love the idea of revisiting the history with The Gameuuuuuhhhhh. Hah. I noticed I was smiling. I noticed I immediately wanted to stop smiling.
What if I did go back? What could I do? Win more World Championships? Main event more Wrestlemanias? Do the same things over and over again…again? I was vexed; even now, as I walk down the corridor, the fans chanting my name once more, I’m vexed. How can they not understand those prospects are no longer appealing? Accomplishing things I’ve already accomplished several times over. Nah. No way. Just this once. I’ll do it again just this once because they deserve it.
I had made the right decision when I left.
I did make the right decision when I left.
I did.
Did I? All those weeks ago I would have been sure but now everything seems less clear.
“This is the throne of our ancestors.”
It was less clear because when I had stopped smiling I looked into the shining gold a little more. It was polished to within an inch of its life; I could see my own reflection in it. At least I could at first.
As strange as it sounds now, thinking back on it, I swear…I swear I was someone else. I swore I could see my grandfather. The High Chief adorned in his head gear. His face had been grave. The first king of a dynasty I had inherited. A dynasty I had carried on my shoulders and walked into legend. A dynasty I had walked away from.
I was not obligated to the fans. I was not obligated to the business. Was I obligated to the High Chief? I inherited a lot; was I right to deny it?
I had blinked and the face was gone. I was imagining things.
I was imaging things that made the situation so much more complicated.
“Oh, son of the nation.”
Do I believe in Fate?
Whether it was Luck or Fate, it happened. A phone call from Daddy Mac himself. A suggestion. A match. Just one more match. Against two other guys I knew in the ring very, VERY well. A match the fans never got in the day. Better late than never they said. Why not find out who the best ever really was?
I had no choice at the time but to tell them I’d get back to them. My head was spinning a million miles an hour. I just saw my grandfather in a belt for god’s sake and now…after the kid and his dad and their dirty napkin…after the memories…after the…the vision, now they wanted me back for one more match? Surely that couldn’t be coincidence.
I needed advice from the one man who had promised to always be there for me.
“Wait. There’s no mountain too great.”
“I swear it was my Grandfather, Dad.”
“Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. If I were you I’d feel it was more than coincidence though.”
“I don’t know Dad. I want to be an actor. I’ve tried my damndest to get even slightly away from wrestling. To go back now would be…”
“Who you are.”
I had not expected that.
“When you came to me all those years ago Dwayne and asked me to train you, I was reluctant. I knew you were going to make a commitment not easily broken. It would be painful and it would be a tough life and you endured it. When you chose to leave and act I supported you because I love you. I will always, unconditionally, because I’m your father. But you’ve forgotten who you are and that is a member of a wrestling dynasty.”
“Dad…”
“You inherited a throne son. You inherited the legacy of your Grandfather. You inherited my legacy. You have no duty to the fans or to the industry. You have no duty to us either but the reminders will always be there. The cloud will always hang over your head. You are a wrestler, my son. You always will be.”
“It wouldn’t be the same. I’ve changed. I may not have it anymore.”
“I have faith in you. The fans have faith in you and that is why they are so quick to turn on you my son. They feel betrayed. You are more than what you have become. The way I see it, you have no real choice at this point; you must take your place within the Squared Circle.”
I won’t ever forget the words my father spoke to me, the words that led to me making the decision I made, that led me to where I stood now behind the curtain, waiting the call of my music, music that has gone unheard for too long.
He had said…
“Hear the words and have faith. Have faith.”
“Remember who you are. You are my son, and the one true High Chief.”
“He lives in me.”
So I was ready to go back. I would not ask for forgiveness, for I had not sinned. I had only done what I wanted to do to live my life how I wanted to. A small boy once asked me for my autograph. If he asked me again now, I would sign it with the same name because that is who I am. I know now not to be ashamed of this. I know now to be proud of this. I never asked for the dynasty I inherited, but I inherited it nonetheless, and with it, I have done and will continue to do my best.
“He lives in you.”
The adrenaline is pumping now. The anticipation is electrifying. The chanting is at fever pitch. The curtain is fluttering slightly. This is it. This is me remembering who I was born to be. This was me not taking one step back; this was me stepping back onto the pedestal I inherited from my father and his father before him. And I know now that, as my music hits and I ascend the small flight of stairs, that I do not do this for Vince McMahon or for my friends or for the WWE; I do this because I am The Rock; I do this because I am a Johnson and I am a Maivia; I do this because I am the one true champion…of the people.
Now let’s make history.
“So for one last time I need ya’ll to roar.”
My name is ‘Plan and this was the story of a day in the life of a man so many are quick to label a sell out. A story not of redemption; there is no redemption to be had. It is rather a story of realisation.
The realisation of the people that he has not wronged us and that he has nothing to apologise for.
The realisation of the people’s champion that a day will come where he will no longer be able to deny who he was born to be.
The realisation of Truth 1:02; And thus he did what he had to do to follow his own path, and such is the cost of living.
Written with thanks to the The Lion King Broadway/West End productions and to Jay-Z and Linkin Park, from whom the quotes used here are derived. Special credit to the writers of Lost, for their inspiration
Feedback to: planm4n89@hotmail.co.uk
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