Title: My Way
Featuring: Python
Date: 5/3
Location: NJPWS Youth Clinic in Monroe, NJ

[It's early afternoon and the first day of New Jersey Pro Wrestling School's annual youth clinic is half gone. Twenty five kids between the ages of 13 - 17 are scattered around the large indoor sports complex with various trainers taking part in one-on-one training, group drills, and informational workshops. The atmosphere is still buzzing with excitement due in large part to the presence of today's special guest, Defiance superstar Python. He knocked this morning's opening keynote speech out of the park, spent the day teaching some mat wrestling basics and running the kids through agility and endurance drills, and has even been doing some one-on-one sparring with the more advanced students. Presently, he dismisses a few kids from the end of their drill with some words of encouragement, hops out of the ring, and strolls over to a nearby bench to grab a towel and a sip of water. He turns as he feels a hand on his shoulder.]

 

???:

Hey, man. Thanks so much again for doing this. The kids are beyond thrilled that you're here.

 

[It's Max, the kind hearted middle-aged trainer in charge of coordinating the school's youth program. Python smiles and shakes his extended hand.]  

 

Python:

Ah, my pleasure! I'm having a blast. You know, you've really got a couple of legitimate prospects here, Max. How old is the kid with the buzz cut?

 

Max:

White t-shirt with the sleeves cut off?

 

Python:

Yeah.

 

Max:

Seventeen, this is his third year with us. Looking to enroll him in the school itself next year.

 

Python:

Great, great. He's a natural.

 

Max:

Yeah, you know, these things are always a real mixed bag. Got some kids who are just here to check it out and have some fun, got some who want to give it a real try and see where it takes them, and some who want to make it their lives. The hardest part is watching the kids who love it but can't quite keep up.

 

[Python takes another swig of water and cocks an eyebrow.]

 

Python:

Oh yeah? How do you mean?

 

Max:

Well, you know. Some kids just aren't quite built like the others. You know better than anyone how physically demanding this sport can be.

 

Python:

I also know better than anyone that it isn't impossible no matter how you're built.

 

[Max gives this a hearty laugh and a shrug of his shoulder.]

 

Max:

Touché. Maybe you should go tell that to poor Andrew.

 

Python:

Who's Andrew?

 

[Max nods his head in the direction of a nearby group of kids grappling on practice mats. Python follows his eyes past the mats and spots a short, skinny boy with freckles and a pair of crooked glasses. Dressed in an ensemble of shorts and an oversized t-shirt in awkwardly mismatched colors, he sits alone, his gaze fixed distantly on a sparring match on the other side of the room.]

 

Python:

...ah.

 

Max:

Yep. Kid's having a rough day. I think he's fourteen. Was here last year too but his mother pulled him out on the third day after he came home too banged up to walk. It's a wonder she let him come back.

 

Python:

I imagine she probably didn't, actually.

 

Max:

Well, why don't you go have a talk with him? See if you can pep him up a little? The kid loves pro wrestling. This clinic won't make him a superstar, but hell, I'd love to see him stick it out.

 

Python:

I'll do that, thanks.

 

[Python nods to Max and makes his way over to the meager looking teenager. He sits down next to Andrew, who turns and almost faints at the sight of the former world champion by his side.]

 

Andrew:

Woah.

 

Python:

Hey, dude. Andrew, is it?

 

Andrew:

Woah.

 

Python:

Hear you've been having kind of a rough day. What's going on?

 

Andrew:

Woah.

 

[Python sighs and can't help but smile.]

 

Python:

Try to relax, pal. I'm just here to help you guys today. Anything you could use a hand with? Any questions or anything?

 

Andrew:

I... no, no thank you. I'm ok.

 

Python:

You sure? Just taking a breather over here?

 

Andrew:

Well, actually... I guess I'm kind of stuck on one thing.

 

Python:

Which thing?

 

Andrew:

Well. Everything.

 

Python:

Ah.

 

Andrew:

It's just really hard. Wrestling is my life, sir, and...

 

Python:

You definitely don't have to call me "sir".

 

Andrew:

Oh, sorry.

 

Python:

No worries. Go on.

 

Andrew:

Oh. Well, yeah. So like, I've been watching wrestling since I was a baby. I watch everything, and if I can't watch it I tape it. It's all I talk about to my parents and my friends. Well, friend. It's my whole life.  All I've ever wanted to do is be a wrestler. But I suck at it.

 

Python:

How come?

 

Andrew:

Cause everyone else is bigger! And stronger, and faster! I'm not... you know, cut out for...

 

Python:

I'm gonna stop you right there, Andrew. Anybody who loves wrestling as much as you say you do is perfectly cut out for it.

 

Andrew:

But aren't wrestlers supposed to be... you know... big?

 

Python:

No! That's just it! Wrestlers aren't "supposed" to be anything, get that out of your head. The minute you try to fit yourself into a mold, you've already defeated yourself. Because whatever that idea is that you want to be... you aren't. You're you, that's all you'll ever be, and that is the best thing ever.

 

Andrew:

It is? How?

 

Python:

Well, what are you good at, Andrew?

 

Andrew:

Nothing. I'm bad at baseball, bad at soccer, bad at tennis, b...

 

Python:

Ah ah ah, I didn't ask what you're bad at. Forget sports for a second. Think about you, Andrew, what are you good at?

 

[The boy pauses and shrugs, pushing his glasses up the sweaty bridge of his nose with the palm of his hand. He mumbles an embarrassed reply.]

 

Andrew:

Math.

 

[A broad grin breaks across Python's face.]

 

Python:

No kidding? That's great!

 

Andrew:

It is?

 

Python:

You bet.

 

Andrew:

But I don't want to do math for the rest of my life. I love wrestling, I want to wrestle.

 

Python:

I never said you couldn't wrestle. There are all sorts of different ways to approach wrestling. There are folks who look at it very technically, some who push through on brute strength and pay no attention to technique or style, some who were just raised in an environment where they needed to know how to fight. My favorite is the people who look at it as an art form. That's the demographic where I fit in, you know? I consider my style an art, because I put so much of who I am as a person into it. Nobody else in the world could quite do it my way, because nobody else in the world is me, and that's a beautiful thing. And nobody else in the world is you, Andrew. So your greatest advantage would be to embrace your way. What can you tell me about... linear momentum?

 

[Andrew bites his lower lip and responds without hesitation.]

 

Andrew:

It's the product of the mass and velocity of an object.

 

Python:

Very good. And Newton's first law of motion is...?

 

[A faint light of understanding begins to flicker in Andrew's eyes.]

 

Andrew:

If there is no net force on an object, then its velocity is constant! The object is either at rest... or it moves with constant speed in a single direction!

 

Python:

Exactly. So now, you tell me. How can you take this information (which, by the way, I promise you at least 95% of pro wrestlers out there don't know off the top of their head) and use it to your advantage in the ring?

 

[Andrew thinks for a moment, the wheels clearly turning inside of his brain.]

 

Andrew:

I could... develop... an entire conservative offensive arsenal that's actually a defensive  arsenal in disguise! I could turn my size disadvantage into an advantage by finding ways to redirect my opponent's momentum, which will be more effective with the more mass that they carry!

 

Python:

Right! Or, in layman's terms... when the big guy is coming for you, get the fuck out of the way and he'll keep going. That's kinda the version I learned.

 

[Andrew is beaming, his mind already racing ahead.]

 

Andrew:

I think... I think I can make this work. I wonder what else I can use.

 

Python:

That's the spirit. Go get 'em, dude. Look me up someday when you're in the big leagues, would ya?

 

[Andrew's face flushes and he smiles from ear to ear.]

 

Andrew:

Thanks, Python.

 

[Python offers up a handshake and Andrew takes it. With a pat on the shoulder and a final nod, Python leads Andrew back over to the main group. He flashes Max a "no worries" grin as Andrew hurries to his bag and pulls out a pencil and a notepad. The excited youngster sits down and stars scribbling passionately across the paper, his eyes darting back and forth between his writing and the ring. Max approaches him curiously.]

 

Max:

Er. What're you doing there, Andrew? Taking notes?

 

[Andrew shakes his head and smiles.]

 

Andrew:

I'm training. My way.

 

 

 

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