RP#2

"Do you know what happens this week?"

The scene opens up with the camera sitting somewhere in a forest, deep in the forest where only a few who dare to trek in this far dare to go. In the center of the picture is a giant oak tree that is pushing 250 years old.

"Do you?"

The forest floor is covered in the fallen leaves from the big oak tree, leaving a think blanket of old red, yellow, orange and brown leaves.

"The NFL draft is taking place. Morons from god knows where will all flock to New York to throw down their hard earned cash to buy a ticket for stupid money to watch the circus that the NFL has made the Draft. You know Eagle fans will boo who ever the Eagles will draft."

Steve Sinclair slowly steps out from behind the oak tree with his hands clasped behind him. He has let his hair down and it flows down and over his shoulders.

"Jet fans will be disappointed, Raiders fans will be pissed off and Patriot fans will have no clue who Belichick just took in the draft but in Bill they trust. It's a show that happens every year like clock work and every year you're bombarded with draft experts filling out their mock drafts left and right hoping that just a hand full of their picks actually happen. They kind of remind me of these douchebags who fill out 25 different brackets in March."

Steve stops in front of the oak tree looking like a normal size person with the tree in the background.

"All of them can't commit to a simple decision. Who will the Texans take with the number one pick? Who will win the Nation Championship? You go to all of the sport news site and you will get 2500 different picks and scenarios about who the Texans will pick and why.

If they don't trade the pick.

Or if they trade the pick after they make the pick.

So much fuss made over nothing really. Who cares who the Texans take with the number one pick? It's going to make as much of a impact on the game as the next QB for the Browns is going to make."

Steve pauses for a second still standing in the same spot.

"It'll make none and it still won't make either team any better. No one knows what really is going to happen. That is the cold hard truth of it all. Everyone involved is in the dark. Over half of the kids taken in this draft, will be out of the league in under 3 years. The combine is in place to try and sort out the truly gifted from the kids who just can't play in the league, and yet every year the guys who have no job being in the NFL are drafted and signed while the Seahawks sign a bunch of guys who weren't drafted, who were passed over. Guys no one thought that they could play in the NFL."

A gust a wind whips Steve long black hair around.

"And the Seahawks beat down the Broncos in the superbowl with a roster of undrafted, unknown, underpaid guys who shocked the NFL and won the Superbowl. You know when you think about it. The state of the UWL right now is like the NFL draft. There are the names everyone know. Hart, Christopher, Davies, Brooks, Stanton. Caravelle and I guess Billy. They are the names you know. They have won. They have titles. You know what you are in for when you see your name across from their name on the up coming card.

Then there are names that will end up being the JaMarcus Russell of the UWL. Like the guy who won the draft this week and lucked out and ended up seeing my name with the word versus before his. Obscene."

Steve pauses and glances down for a second. He looks back up at the camera.

"One of the smallest guys on the roster.....gets to face the biggest guy on the roster. I don't see Obscene Giant Killer posted anywhere so I'm thinking no matter how hard he tries, beating someone of my size for him is like climbing Mount Everest. Damn near impossible. Now."

Steve smirks.

"I won't ever say that a guy with the size and build of Obscene could never have a shot against me because I have been beaten by a smaller opponent once or twice, but the odds of it happening this week.

Unlikely.

I warm up with a 190 on the curling bar. If you give me a reason little guy, I'll punt you into the middle of next week. I know you'll try with all of your heart. You'll dig down for everything you have. You can listen to all of the voices in your head.

But

It won't do any good. I am the sure fire, can't miss Hall of Famer. I'm the guy who you don't bet against unless you really love losing money then by all means, put all your chips on Obscene. I'm Joe Montana. I'm Bill Russell. I'm Yogi Berra. A proven winner. A proven Champion. While Obscene....is Ryan Leaf. Obscene is Shawn Bradley. Ben McDonald. All busts. All worth not picking in the first round. No pick would be better than Obscene."

Steve brushes some hair out of his face and places his hand back behind his back.

"I stand the test of time and the UWL will learn what I did to Joe Jones was no fluke. I didn't snap his leg in two for shits and giggles. I don't give a fuck about you. I don't care about your feelings or what you think about me. When I get in that ring.....I'm laying down the law, taking no prisoners and I will break who ever stands in my way and this week you Obscene stand in my way of what I want and what I want is that UWL World title. I've been here for a hand full of months and I'm already sick of all you little bitches crying over the title. None of you, are fit to hold that title. It's like watching a room of drunk skanks slapping each other around over who gets to sleep with Flavor Flav."

Steve remains stone faced.

"It's sickening to watch. Someone needs to kick you bitches to the curb. And the one only around here who can do that. Is me."

Steve turns and starts to walk back into the forest behind the old oak tree when he pauses and looks over his shoulder.

"Like any one of you could ever stop me."

Fade out.