Post by Ca$h on Apr 18, 2007 23:15:38 GMT -5
The distinctive static of a cheap handheld camera nearly obscures the view from the lens, but it clears slowly as the picture comes into focus. The scene is easy to recognize, it's the inside of one of a thousand generic rental sedans. A battered cell phone sits on the center console, and it silently vibrates to signal an incoming call. A hand reaches down and picks it up. After a slight pause, a voice cuts the silence like a knife.
"Yeah?"
A one sided conversation ensues, the voice stopping to listen to the other person for a few minutes at a time.
"Yeah, listen man. I'm on my way to Calgary now...Yeah, I got it. Should be a good game, eh? ...Yeah, I'm starting to talk like a canuck already. It's annoying as hell, I've been doing it since I got the callback."
Another minute of silence.
"Yeah, I have no idea what I'm gonna do about that. These guys don't exactly pay top dollar. I'm thinking about finding some part-time thing just to keep me in a decent apartment. At least until the checks start to come in without bouncing."
The voice laughs. It's the laugh that doesn't get much use. The man on the other end of this voice has seen the good and the bad, with a lot of the ugly thrown in for good measure.
"Alright man, I better get going. Gonna miss my exit here, these signs are terrible...Yeah, I'll give you a call when I get in...Later."
The phone snaps shut, and it flies past the lens as the man behind the voice tosses it onto the passenger seat. The hand reaches down again, and lifts the camera into the air, placing it on the dash. His face is shown for the first time. It's not the face of a young man, as was the voice. It's the face of a once young man, a man that has gone through hell and back. Twice. The face of a man that has felt the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. A man that has no sense of joy or pain anymore. A man with nothing to lose.
"I guess I left this thing on. Oh well."
He clears his throat once, sets his gaze back on the road, and speaks to the camera without looking at it.
"If you're watching this video, that means I'm coming out of retirement. Normally that would mean someone found me a high-paying job with a cushy contract, laced with stipulations to allow me to duck out whenever I wanted to. That was before, though. That was the me that didn't care about the game. Back then, all I cared about was the glory. The gold. The title. I had it, I had everything my million dollar appetite desired. Then it all fell apart. The midas touch was a blessing and a curse. I was on top of the world for a month, then in just two short weeks, it all came crashing down around my ears."
He pauses, looks into the camera thoughtfully, and returns his eyes to the road once more.
"Correction. I brought it down around myself. I went chasing after more glory than I could handle. I wanted it all, and I never thought for a second what would happen if and when I got it all. I realized long after that I never would've stopped if it wasn't for the injury..."
Looking back into the camera, he pulls up the left sleeve of his Anaheim Ducks tee to reveal a pair of scars, each about three inches long, running from the top of his shoulder towards his elbow. After a few seconds, he drops the sleeve again and his gaze goes right back to the task at hand: the road.
"Torn rotator cuff. A couple of surgeries, six months of rehab. I'm not quite one hundred percent yet, but it won't be much longer. Once I get things up and running, I'll be back in form in no time."
A wry smile crosses his lips.
"I guess I'll never be 'back to normal' again. What normal is, I don't even know anymore. We'll find out soon, though. Won't we?"
A sign flashes past in the rear window on the other side of the highway, reading "Now leaving Calgary, Alberta. Hope you enjoyed your stay." A red "Low Battery" warning flashes in the upper right corner of the screen, and the view fades to black soon after.
"Yeah?"
A one sided conversation ensues, the voice stopping to listen to the other person for a few minutes at a time.
"Yeah, listen man. I'm on my way to Calgary now...Yeah, I got it. Should be a good game, eh? ...Yeah, I'm starting to talk like a canuck already. It's annoying as hell, I've been doing it since I got the callback."
Another minute of silence.
"Yeah, I have no idea what I'm gonna do about that. These guys don't exactly pay top dollar. I'm thinking about finding some part-time thing just to keep me in a decent apartment. At least until the checks start to come in without bouncing."
The voice laughs. It's the laugh that doesn't get much use. The man on the other end of this voice has seen the good and the bad, with a lot of the ugly thrown in for good measure.
"Alright man, I better get going. Gonna miss my exit here, these signs are terrible...Yeah, I'll give you a call when I get in...Later."
The phone snaps shut, and it flies past the lens as the man behind the voice tosses it onto the passenger seat. The hand reaches down again, and lifts the camera into the air, placing it on the dash. His face is shown for the first time. It's not the face of a young man, as was the voice. It's the face of a once young man, a man that has gone through hell and back. Twice. The face of a man that has felt the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. A man that has no sense of joy or pain anymore. A man with nothing to lose.
"I guess I left this thing on. Oh well."
He clears his throat once, sets his gaze back on the road, and speaks to the camera without looking at it.
"If you're watching this video, that means I'm coming out of retirement. Normally that would mean someone found me a high-paying job with a cushy contract, laced with stipulations to allow me to duck out whenever I wanted to. That was before, though. That was the me that didn't care about the game. Back then, all I cared about was the glory. The gold. The title. I had it, I had everything my million dollar appetite desired. Then it all fell apart. The midas touch was a blessing and a curse. I was on top of the world for a month, then in just two short weeks, it all came crashing down around my ears."
He pauses, looks into the camera thoughtfully, and returns his eyes to the road once more.
"Correction. I brought it down around myself. I went chasing after more glory than I could handle. I wanted it all, and I never thought for a second what would happen if and when I got it all. I realized long after that I never would've stopped if it wasn't for the injury..."
Looking back into the camera, he pulls up the left sleeve of his Anaheim Ducks tee to reveal a pair of scars, each about three inches long, running from the top of his shoulder towards his elbow. After a few seconds, he drops the sleeve again and his gaze goes right back to the task at hand: the road.
"Torn rotator cuff. A couple of surgeries, six months of rehab. I'm not quite one hundred percent yet, but it won't be much longer. Once I get things up and running, I'll be back in form in no time."
A wry smile crosses his lips.
"I guess I'll never be 'back to normal' again. What normal is, I don't even know anymore. We'll find out soon, though. Won't we?"
A sign flashes past in the rear window on the other side of the highway, reading "Now leaving Calgary, Alberta. Hope you enjoyed your stay." A red "Low Battery" warning flashes in the upper right corner of the screen, and the view fades to black soon after.