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Warrior, his attorney and trainer are seated in an office of wrestling promotions. A successful promoter looks unhappy as he looks into the scowling face of Warrior.
“Are the doctor's reports confirmed?” snaps the attorney.
“Definitely,” replies the promoter. Then he continues, “It says here, the number one contender has suffered a seriously cracked rib.”
“Come on man,” pleads Warrior.
“I suppose we could cancel the match indefinitely if you are set on wrestling him.”
“It ain't just about the number one contender, what about the time Warrior's invested,” states his trainer.
“I believe we can find a solution,” says the promoter.
“Solution, nothin'. What about the match?” asks Warrior.
“Don't play games with my client! Warrior has already done nearly a million dollars’ worth of publicity,” demands his attorney.
“A million dollars’ worth!”
“And has made contractual obligations with over twenty different organizations. He doesn't want to be embarrassed,” the attorney added matter of factly.
“You best find me another ranked contender an' I mean in a hurry, man!” quips Warrior.
Holding up some papers, the promoter states, “I contacted several contenders, but they are all either not ready or wrestling somewhere else.”
“Then gimmie Lance Johnson. He's ranked seventh.”
“He’s wrestling in Japan,” explains the promoter. “Why not postpone the bout until the next big event July Fourth?”
“To heck with the Fourth of July, man! Ten thousand things will be goin' down on the Fourth of July! Warrior wants to be first!” snaps the attorney.
“That may not be possible,” counters the promoter.
“This man here is the star; don’t cause him to get upset!” says his trainer enthusiastically.
Warrior stands beneath a poster and points to it. It just happens to be Nicolaus Martin, whom he wrestled for the championship in Japan.
“Warrior, I'm sure there's a way to salvage this,” says the promoter. “I've promoted in every country in the world and I've tried to do my job to the best of my abilities. Perhaps you're right, and no one wants to be beat. I don't know what else to say.”
“I do! Maybe what this match needs is something new. Now here's what's goin' down. Listen; 'cause I'm gonna say this, but one time. On February fourteenth, I'm gonna wrestle me a local poor underdog, ok? An' I'm gonna put his face on this poster with me, you hear? An' I'll tell you why, 'cause I like to give opportunity. An' all the people in the country, they'd like nothin' better than me, Warrior, to let some unknown get a shot at the greatest title in the world on this country's day of love. Now that's the way I see it an' that's the way I want it!” says Warrior.
“It's very American,” states the promoter.
“No, man, it's very smart!” quips Warrior.
Days later, back in the promoter's office, Warrior pores over a large record book. “How 'bout this Billy Knight?”
“Bum,” replies the promoter.
“How 'bout this Big John?” asks Warrior.
“Too old, dull wrestler,” states the trainer.
“I don't feel heat from the name,” explains Warrior.
The promoter sighs. “Exactly what are you looking for, Warrior?”
“This man.”
Everybody leans forward.
Warrior continues, “The Kid Nicky Martin; he's my man!”
“Nicky? His record's poor. He is not the Kid anymore.”
“Don't matter! That name. It's right on,” exclaims Warrior.
“He won't last fifteen minutes,” says the trainer.
“Listen, I gonna carry this boy, then drop him,” explains Warrior.
“I don't like you messin' with him! He can take a lot of punishment and just doesn’t know when to quit. Wrestlers like that do everything wrong,” replies the trainer.
“I'll drop him when I’m ready!” snaps Warrior.
While Nicky was just sitting around with some friends, there is an argument over sports. A sport broadcast rising from the television is heard over the argument. “Unfortunate luck for Pro Wrestling #1 contender, the great former champion acquired a serious fracture of his ribs after an aggressive day of training. The champion, Warrior, says he'll be 'shopping for another victim,' to fill the vacancy for this Valentine’s Day match to be held in Madison Square Garden. By the way, rumor has it that this will be the most widely-viewed sporting event in the entire world and that includes the Super Bowl, folks.”
Nicky finally got the nerve to ask out Stephanie from the bookstore. After walking and talking for hours, Nicky softly kisses the woman. Her arms hang limp. He puts more passion into the kiss and she starts to respond. The passion erupts. She gives herself freely for the first time in all her years.
The following day, Nicky strolls down the street to Johnny’s Gym. He climbs the stairs and enters the gym.
In a matter of seconds, his presence is known and the athletes stare in wonderment. The African American heavyweight contender, Big Crusher, throws down his towel in disgust and turns away.
Dan quietly approaches Nicky.
Hey, Nick! What happened?”
“Bout what?”
Johnny steps out of his office.
“Did ya get the message, kid?”
“What message?”
Johnny pulls out a card from his pocket. He hands it to Nicky.
“A rep from the biggest wrestling Promotions was lookin' for ya!”
“Ya puttin' me on?” asks Nicky.
“Here's the card.” replies Johnny.
“When were they here?” Nicky quizzes.
“Bout an hour ago.”
“Probably lookin' for a partner for a tag team match,” states Nicky.
Nicky turns from Johnny and jogs out of the gym.
“Waste of life,” Johnny says from behind Nicky.
Nicky steps off a bus and hurries down the street. Every few steps he breaks into a trot.
He enters a skyscraper, exits the elevator and enters the office of Pro Wrestling Productions.
The secretary is slightly startled by Nicky's excited expression. “May I help you?”
Nicky hands her the business card.
“Your name, please?” the secretary asks.
“Nicky. Nicky Martin”
The secretary rises and walks Nicky down the narrow hallway. She taps on the door before poking her head inside of the office. “You may go in,” she announces and turns to leave.
Nicky collects himself and enters the promoter's office and eyes the multitude of sporting pictures hanging on all four walls.
The promoter warmly greets him. “Hello, Mr. Martin, I'm the Chairman of Pro Wrestling Promotions. Please, have a seat.”
“Thanks,” Nicky replies, his voice steady despite his nervousness.
“Mr. Martin." The promoter hesitates and begins to talk as if they are friends. “Nicky, do you have any representation? A manager?”
“No, it’s just me.”
“Nicky, would you be interested in...”
“Yes?”
“Excuse me.”
“I know ya need partners. I'm very available,” exclaims Nicky.
“I'm sure you are.”
“Absolutely! Anything with the champ would be an honor.”
“What?” The promoter seems very amused as he lights a cigar. “Nicky, would you be interested in wrestling Warrior for the Championship?”
“Like I said, I'd make a great partner.”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Sure, an' I'm smart enough to know that no partner should take cheap shots at the champ. He's just there to help the man,” says Nicky.
“I'm not asking you to partner with the champ. I want to know if you’re interested in wrestling for the championship.”
The weight of the statement comes crashing down in Nicky. For a long moment he becomes nothing more than a basket case as he ponders the statement. He half regains his senses.
“Ah...Absolutely,” he says with confidence and without hesitation.
It was official. Nicky would face Warrior for the World Wrestling Championship.
Now Nicky and Stephanie are at her home watching an old television. He smiles as the program shows Warrior being interviewed.
“How do you like the Windy City?” asks the reporter.
“I like my Chicago Brothers.”
“Why did you agree to wrestle a man who has virtually no chance of winning?” asks another reporter.
“If history proves one thing, everybody gotta chance. Didn't yo' all ever hear of David an' Goliath?
“What are your feelings about the challenger?” quizzes the first reporter.
“I don’t know the man.”
“What does that mean?” she asks dumbfounded.
“It means if he can't wrestle, I bet he can dance!”
Nicky and Stephanie laugh at the interview.
Nicky's interview now fills the screen. Nicky squints and looks nervous under the hot lights. “This is your largest payday ever! How do you feel about it?” asks one of the reporters.
“Feel? Happy.”
“How will you wrestle Warrior?”
“I'll do what I can,” Nicky answers.
“Is it true the most you've ever made in a Championship match is five hundred dollars?”
“Two Fifty!” Nicky counters. “But that was a long time ago.”
“And now your payday will be one hundred thousand dollars. Any comment?”
“It will be great!” Nicky replies.
They continue to watch the remainder of the interview. The head commentator is looking directly into the camera. “It’s already being called by many the greatest circus in sports history. If this man lasts more than a minute I would say he's on borrowed time.” He pauses as the camera zooms in. “It is matches like this with their ridiculous prices that give wrestling a bad name. Not only is this match bad; people, it is sad! Who is Nicky Martin?” he asks just before the show ends.
“Hey, I’ll show them, huh, babe? It is obvious to Stephanie that the comments weigh on Nicky’s mind. “I think I'm gonna train myself,” he continues as he stands in her doorway. He leans in and kisses her. “See ya tomorrow.”
Nicky’s voice echoes in the stairwell as he moves down the stairway and continues to converse with Stephanie who remains upstairs.
Nicky heads home and Johnny meets him at his apartment. Nicky is slightly uncomfortable, almost embarrassed, at having outsiders see how he lives.
“Listen, Nick, you're a very lucky guy,” Johnny says.
“Yeah,” he replies.
“This is a chance of a lifetime?”
“Freak luck for sure,” Nicky agrees.
“Look at all them other wrestlers. Real good boys. Good records. Colorful. Wrestle their hearts out for peanuts. But who cares? Nobody. Nobody ever gives them a shot at the title.”
“Luck is a strange thing,” Nicky says with an uneasy feeling.
“I'm here tellin' ya to be very smart with this shot. Like the Bible says, ya don't get no second chance.”
Johnny looks hard into Nicky's eyes and continues, “Ya need a manager, an advisor. I’ve been in the racket fifty years. I done it all; there ain't nothin' about the world of wrestling that ain't in this head.”
“Huh.” Nicky lets out a loud sigh.
Johnny deafly continues, becoming more engrossed every second. “Look at this face! I had twenty stitches over the right eye, thirty over the left and my nose was busted seven times.” He pauses, and then continues on. “Yeah, ya kinda remind me of me. Ya move like me. Ya got heart.”
“Heart, but I ain't got anything at the gym, do I?” Nicky retorts.
I know this business, Nicky. When I was wrestling it was the dirtiest racket goin', see. Wrestlers like me were treated like dogs. They’d throw ya in the pit an' for ten bucks ya try to kill each other. We had no management.” They sit in silence. “Respect, I always dished ya respect, Nicky.” Johnny added.
“How can ya say that when ya gave everything to Big Crusher.”
“I'm sorry, I made a mistake. Kid, I'm askin' man to man. I wanna be ya manager,” Johnny pleads.
“The wrestling match is set and I don't need a manager.”
“Look, you can't buy what I know. Ya can't. I've seen it all! I got pain an' I got experience.”
“Whatever I got, I always got on the shot. This shot's no different. I didn't earn nothin'; I got it on the shot. I needed ya help about ten years ago when I was startin', but ya never helped me.”
“If ya wanted my help, why didn't ya just ask?”
“I did ask and you gave me nothin’,” quips Nicky.
This went on for hours and finally they agreed that they needed each other. Nicky was out of shape and Johnny was up in age, so they were a perfect fit.
