Hammerlocks and Pumpkins

INT. HIGH SCHOOL GYM - DAY

The year is 1999. In the gym of a small-town Minnesota high school, a wide-eyed 18-year-old JOSH CONWAY surveys the scene with awe. A ragtag crew is assembling the room. A separate group is setting up basic tables with an assortment of poorly made t-shirts and 8x10 photographs to hawk to fans later in the night. This is obviously not a big-money operation, but there is an undeniable atmosphere about it. The people involved are passionate about professional wrestling—not “the business”—but professional wrestling itself.

JOSH CONWAY (V.O.) It probably seems silly to most, but I spent a large majority of my life to this point literally dreaming of this moment. Yes, this moment. Not the sold-out Madison Square Garden or Tokyo Dome… I mean, yeah, of course that as well, but this was exactly where I’d wanted to be. For months, I had been getting the crap kicked out of me every day training for the privilege to be on this show, to be in that locker room. And yeah, maybe it wasn’t the spectacle and the lights I saw on T.V. but to me? I had finally made it.

FADE TO: EXT. SNOWY WINTER TRAIL - EARLY MORNING, MONTHS PRIOR

A heavy snow falls as a small group of men, bundled in winter clothing, run a trail. Well, as much as they can, anyway. The snow is up to their shins, so it’s really less of a run and more of a shuffle. It is very early in the morning, with just enough sunlight to show the struggle and effort on their faces. Several feet ahead of the group, a well-used Ford truck moves down the trail and a gruff man (OTTO HAGEN) screams at the group. Otto is a grizzled veteran of professional wrestling, now known for running one of the toughest training camps in the country for aspiring wrestlers.

OTTO HAGEN You gotta want it! Every one of you wants to be a big goddamn star, but you can’t run through a little fuckin’ snow?! No heart! You ain’t ever gonna make it! NONE of you!

Josh Conway, by far the youngest of the bunch, leads the group, albeit by a small margin. Perplexingly, while the rest of the group is grimacing and struggling, he appears to be having the time of his life. He has a wide smile on his face, pushing through the snow and chasing the truck with alacrity—a pointless pursuit, but not to him. He doesn’t seem to be doing it competitively necessarily, rather he genuinely seems to be having a great time. He’s determined to prove himself to Otto. As the trek continues, some of the group begin to fall out and Otto lambasts them for the absence of their balls. Conway pushes harder and Hagen takes notice.

OTTO HAGEN Oh, look at this superstar! You think you’re something special, kid? You’re the biggest mark of the bunch! No wrestling, no football, no nothin’! You’ll be lucky if I let you sell the damn popcorn!

Undeterred, Conway continues to trudge on, the broad smile still on his face. Hagen dips his head back into the Ford to conceal his reaction. He chuckles to himself, allows an uncharacteristic smile, and mumbles to himself.

OTTO HAGEN Son of a bitch…

CUT TO: INT. FARMHOUSE GARAGE - PRESENT DAY

We cut to a farmhouse garage in rural Minnesota. The setup is, in a word, spartan: an aged wrestling ring takes up most of the space, a pair of space heaters on opposite sides of the ring look like they may offer some reprieve in the cold Minnesota winters, but not much. The walls have several newspaper and magazine clippings as well as professional wrestling event posters. There is no rhyme or reason to the placement or presentation, rather they look like they were put up hastily by a man who didn’t really give a shit about how they looked (they were). This is the very same farmhouse that Josh Conway trained in decades ago. Otto Hagen sits in a lawn chair on the floor while Josh Conway is seated on the top turnbuckle watching two trainees work in the ring.

OTTO HAGEN Get it back! Do it again!

In the ring, one of the trainees executes a surprisingly crisp arm drag that sends another trainee flipping through the air and crashing into the mat.

JOSH CONWAY (clapping) Nice work, kid! That was perfect!

The two have another few basic exchanges as Conway nods and Hagen scowls. The trainee that was arm dragged finds himself on the receiving end of a hammerlock and he is struggling to escape.

OTTO HAGEN Jesus Christ! We’ve been over this a hundred times! Why do you even bother coming back if you can’t goddamn listen and apply what I tell you to do?!

The trainee continues to struggle, attempting a couple of reversals, but becoming increasingly frustrated. After another technical escape attempt, he opts instead to drive his elbow back directly into the other trainee’s face! Blood immediately starts pouring from his nose and he backs away with his hands raised. Otto claps loudly from the floor.

OTTO HAGEN HA! Well that’s one way to do it! Wait, what the hell are you doing?

Conway has hopped off the buckle and stepped between the two trainees. He checks on the one with the bloody nose, which is now pouring profusely.

JOSH CONWAY You good?

The trainee nods, pinching his nose to stop the blood.

JOSH CONWAY Alright, good. Go take care of that, alright?

Conway claps him on the shoulder with a reassuring smile. The trainee exits the ring, giving one last glare to man who elbowed him.

JOSH CONWAY Quick way to lose training partners, brother.

TRAINEE It’s not illegal.

JOSH CONWAY (nodding) You’re right. And when you’re actually competing, that’s fair game. But in here? Let’s focus on doing things the right way, huh? Come here, I’ll show you some other tricks. Put that hammerlock on me.

The trainee applies a hammerlock to Conway.

JOSH CONWAY Alright, so basic, right? Side step out to your left. Ok? See that gap that creates? Now you can just quick duck under like this…

Conway ducks his head under the gap and reverses the hammerlock onto the trainee. He comes up on his toes from the pressure and Conway immediately loosens the old.

JOSH CONWAY See? Alright, now you try… right, right.. duck under. Boom!

The trainee executes the reversal exactly as instructed.

JOSH CONWAY Excellent! Alright, let’s go over a couple more ways.

Conway shows him a couple more ways to escape the hold before sending him on his way for a break. He hops down to the floor to an absolutely scowling Otto Hagen.

OTTO HAGEN You’re way too nice to these idiots, kid. None of ‘em are ever gonna be shit if you keep coddling them like this.

JOSH CONWAY You used to say I wouldn’t be shit, Otto. Remember?

Conway laughs and sits on the apron.

JOSH CONWAY It isn’t about being soft on them. They all wanna be here, man. You gotta give them the chance to learn, not just beat on ‘em.

OTTO HAGEN Oh yeah? You’re really gonna tell me how to train wrestlers? Mr. Big Time on his way to PRIME over here? Why don’t you try that participation trophy shit in your match with Alex Stryker? That kid is no joke! His dad and his granddad were both mean sons of bitches and he ain’t no different.

JOSH CONWAY Trust me, Otto. I know. I’ve done my homework on him and I know it won’t be a walk in the park.

Conway’s phone rings. He retrieves it from his pocket and answers.

JOSH CONWAY Hey, man! What’s up?

CUT TO: PUMPKIN PATCH - DAY

We cut to a pumpkin patch. There are hundreds of people moving throughout the patch and its assorted attractions: apple orchard, corn pits, hay rides, and so forth. Children are screaming from seemingly every direction—major sensory overload. The shot focuses on a middle-aged man with a phone to his ear. He looks exhausted, waving wearily at a small child sprinting between pumpkins. This is Ben Sullivan, longtime best friend of Josh Conway. He speaks into the phone.

BEN SULLIVAN Kill me.

INTERCUT — PHONE CONVERSATION — INT/EXT. FARMHOUSE/PUMPKIN PATCH

JOSH CONWAY That bad, huh?

BEN SULLIVAN Worse. You ever have corn stuck your asscrack?

JOSH CONWAY Uh… what?

BEN SULLIVAN This corn pool, man. Shit gets everywhere. You can’t avoid it. You just have to accept it. It’s an inevitability.

JOSH CONWAY I’ll have to take your word for it, brother.

BEN SULLIVAN Anyway, how you feeling? You ready for the big debut?

JOSH CONWAY Honestly, Ben… I hope so. PRIME is no joke and I didn’t exactly draw the easiest matchup with Alex Stryker. Dude’s a dynasty—third generation, well-trained, super experienced. I’m thrilled to be there, but we’ll see if I can still hang with guys like that.

BEN SULLIVAN GET THAT OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!

JOSH CONWAY What?

Ben chases after a small girl, his daughter, who has put some unidentified piece of debris in her mouth and is laughing maniacally as he chases her.

BEN SULLIVAN How are you so fast?!

JOSH CONWAY Ben? Everything good?

Ben catches up with his daughter and pries the debris—a wrapper—from her mouth. He droops his head in defeat and lets her resume her shenanigans in the pumpkin patch.

BEN SULLIVAN Yeah, man. Fuck. Don’t have kids, alright? I mean it.

JOSH CONWAY Oh, I don’t know. I could see myse-

BEN SULLIVAN No.

Ben rubs at his temples. From a distance, a woman glares at him and points to his daughter, once again running amuck. She shrugs aggressively as if to ask him what the hell she’s doing.

BEN SULLIVAN Listen, dude. I gotta go. She’s giving me the look. You know the one. But, hey. Good luck on the debut. You’ve been at that level before, Josh. I know you still got it in you. I’ll be watching.

JOSH CONWAY I appreciate that, brother. It means a lot for you to sa-

BEN SULLIVAN DAMN IT! DON’T PUT THAT IN YOUR MOUTH!

Conway chuckles to himself and hangs up the phone. The trainees are making their way back to the ring and he gets back to work.