Call me Fathi
Oct 22, 2013 2:52:40 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Oct 22, 2013 2:52:40 GMT -5
{Off Camera}
~1~
Home of Vincent Williams
“As salaamu alaiykum wa rahmatullah” he said while turning his head to the right. Turning his head to the left he repeated the phrase.
It was just past four p.m. Asr was considered the most important salah of the day. Sitting in his white thobe Vincent reflected on the past. In the mirror of the present the past always seems like some far away land. Just a couple short years ago he had been among the ignorant, hating Islam and now he was Muslim.
For him it seemed ages ago. Most of his life he had fervently studied the Bible in an earnest attempt to serve God. It was from that devotion he had come to Islam. Being a diehard, unapologetic, Bible thumping near militant Christian he despised Islam (at the time).
Every day he would hear some report of Muslims killing innocent, unarmed civilians. That was what got his goat, as they say. As a die-hard southern protestant Christian he could actually related to the hatred of the American secularist government. But, nothing excused the killing of unarmed civilians. That was part of why he despised Lincoln.
Finally one day, late November, he decided to prove Islam was evil. He was convinced, though, that fabrications were not the answer. Rather he would seek out the truth. In order to prove his argument he would need to learn their beliefs in vivid detail. The only real question was where to start at.
“Hey hun.” His wife came in, the moment of reflection was over.
Vincent stood up, his white thobe resting just above his shoes.
“What’s up?” he inquired before taking his thobe off revealing blue jeans and a plain olive green tee shirt.
“Dinners ready” she answered. “I made some chile for you too.”
He smiled. Chile, not chili, was basically pico de gallo with a bit more emphasis on the peppers and blended together. It was said, of chile, that the madder the woman is making it the hotter the sauce will be. He preferred to just have it be a bit milder than get the wife mad.
“I love you” he replied as they headed to the dining room.
As he headed to the dining room he couldn’t help but to be grateful for all that he had. So many don’t realize what they have until it is too late. In this way he knew he was blessed. Nothing could ever make him forget who he was or where he came from.
Sitting down at the table he smiles at his wife.
“What’s on your mind hun?”
“Just thinking how lucky I am.”
“Aww.” She leans over and kisses him.
The two commence to eating. As they eat Vincent is silent. Many people dreams of having a big house and fancy cars. All he ever dreamed of was a simple life, a steady place to call home, a reliable vehicle and no stress over bills.
“You okay babe?”
“Yeah I’m fine…” his words drift “…just thinking about how far I have come, and what all we have. Tu sabes?
Her lips move sideways and purse out a little.
“You’ve earned it all baby and no one can ever take that from you. Enjoy the moment.”
He was trying to ‘enjoy the moment.’ But, it all just seemed surreal.
The departure tomorrow wouldn’t be too bad. Over the past year or so they had gotten used to the work trips. It was part of their life now. Both of them had grown accustomed to this. Although, it had been a bit of a strain on his school work. He knew he was very lucky to have such an understanding wife.
He probably knew it better than most. His ex wife had never been that understanding of his wrestling career. She claimed to support him but there was always some issue about his time on the road, some argument. Funny, though, it had been while he was with her that he had first begun his wrestling career. But, arguably one could say it really began before her.
~2~
He had been working at a Taco Bell at the time barely making enough to survive. The idea of being in wrestling simply had never crossed his mind. Then one day he had run across a man named Scott Stonewall. At the time Scott was wrestling in FWF as part of the Dark Riders Gang with Sickle a.k.a. Ariel James.
Scott was a smash mouth biker dripping with charisma. His in your face mentality had really attracted Vincent to the business. He had always been a fan of wrestling but after having watched one of Scott’s shoot he realized that he wanted to be in the business. It was a life altering decision.
It took many weeks to track down Scott Stonewall. He didn’t want to settle for just any trainer. If he was going to do this he wanted Scott to train him. But, he got a bit more than he bargained for. The first encounter alone was a bit startling.
The location was a warehouse in Memphis, Tennessee. Vincent was relatively familiar with having grown up just north of Memphis. When he walked into the building he found not one but four men waiting for him. He spotted Scott Stonewall instantly.
Scott was leaning against the wall on the far side of the ring. Next to him was an even bigger man that Vincent would later learn was Scott’s long time tag team partner, Andre Bates. The man was a behemoth. He wore blue jeans and a cut off shirt with his hair draping behind his head. Standing dead center facing Vincent was a man of about average height. He had long black hair. He wore black slacks tucked into black boots with a black cloth shirt that went to his wrists. Next to him was the notoriously infamous Sickle, a man well known for his ruthlessness to those he liked and disliked.
“Welcome, I am Alexander James.”
Vincent extended his hand which was met by that of Alexander.
“So, how’s this work?”
Alexander laughed.
“Follow me and I will give you the tour.”
The other three made no move as the two toured the facility.
“Over here is the ring.” Alexander said as they passed by the ring. The lighting in the warehouse was minimal. But, Vincent could make out the general features of the ring. There were four turnbuckles connected by three ropes, and a grey mat.
Alexander kept walking until stopping by some free weights.
“Over here are the free weights.” He explained “We will not be using these.”
“Wait, what?”
Alexander seemed amused by the question.
“With your size we could let you train for strength but lifting weights is not going to do nearly as well as the methods that we have in mind.”
“Which is what?”
Alexander snickered. He turned from the free weights and faced Vincent. Now all four men had eyes on Vincent.
“You will be getting cardio, strength training, diet, and of course skill training as we show you how to operate inside of a ring.”
“And how do you intend to do that?”
Alexander placed his hand on the shoulder of Vincent.
“I like you.” Alexander declared. “You are straight to the point. Well basically what we intend to do for your cardio is a slow build up not unlike the way that prisoners might train. First we will have you run around the warehouse including suicides for a couple of hours at a time. When you have become used to this you will run in different parts of the city to get used to terrain as sometimes the fight occurs outside of the ring. For the strength training we will have you chop wood, lift top soil, dig ditches, carry sand bags, lift either myself or my brother fireman style and other similar activities…”
Vincent’s head buzzed as Alexander laid out the extensive training he was to undergo. It was like nothing he had ever heard. He knew they knew what they were doing. They were the Dark Riders Gang, a group that once dominated the wrestling world holding every title it ever wanted. Their dominance was legendary.
The first day was to beyond what he had ever imagined. He started off with dietary alterations. He was to eat two bowls of beans for protein, a glass of milk for calcium, and a small side of spinach. After eating they went to the warehouse.
Upon arriving at the warehouse Vincent was instructed to begin running around the warehouse.
“How many times?”
“Until we tell you to stop.”
And so the training began. The hardest part of it was not the running, or the in ring sparring. Rather it was the fist hardening.
“Ultimately while strength and agility will help you it is your fists that will really be your ally because size is not on your side.” Scott Stonewall explained.
A steel car door was hung from the ceiling by a chain and he was to punch it until his hand was covered in blood. They would then wrap it up, give it a few days to heal up and do it all over again. The training was tough but it was what he needed and he never deterred from it. Too many in the business trained like body builders.
~3~
Toronto, Ontario, Canada
5:00 a.m.
He knew this was the case now. Lifting weights like so many others would not be a good way to train for fighting someone like Troy Vincent.
The sun still had not risen. For Vincent waking up before sunrise had been the hardest part of being Muslim. A lot of it had taken time but the waking for Fajr had always been difficult. Fajr was the morning worship performed by all Muslims, Sunni and Shi’ite.
Throwing his feet off the bed he gets up and heads to the bathroom. Turning on the sink he runs water over his right hand first, three times and repeats the pattern on his left hand. He then rinses his mouth out proceeded by rinsing his nose out. He then wipes his face with water before wiping his beard with water and then running water over his right forearm and then his left. After this he runs water through his hair and then over his feet right then left.
Having made wudu he leaves the bathroom and opens the stand up closet in the hotel room. Inside the closet is a pair of blue jeans and a plain white tee shirt folded up on the shelf. Above that is a pearly white thobe hanging on a single bar with a wire hanger.
Reaching into the closet he grabs the pants and shirt and places them over his body. Having secured the pants with a belt he grabs his chain wallet off the dresser and snaps it over a belt loop before reaching into the closet and grabbing the thobe. Carefully he slips the thobe over his head before putting his arms through and making sure the thobe is all the way down he checks the time, 5:30 a.m. Still fourteen minutes to go.
He turns on the television to kill time. After awhile the time flies by and it is finally time for Fajr. Vincent turns off the television and directs himself northeast.
“Allahu akbar!” Takbir. That is what they call it when one says ‘Allahu Akbar’.
“Authu billahi minashaitnir rajim, bismillahir rahmanir rahim.
Al ḥamdu lillāhi rabbi l-’ālamīn. Ar raḥmāni r-raḥīm. Māliki yawmi d-dīn. Iyyāka na’budu wa iyyāka nasta’īn. Ihdinā ṣ-ṣirāṭ al-mustaqīm. Ṣirāṭ al-laḏīna an’amta ‘alayhim ġayril maġḍūbi ‘alayhim walāḍ ḍāllīn. Ameen.
Qul huwal laahu ahad. Allah hus-samad. Lam yalid wa lam yoolad. Wa lam yakul-lahu kufuwan ahad.”
He pauses a moment to reflect on the words. It was all about the concentration and the intention.
“Allahu Akbar”
Bending over he entered into the bowing position. The back had to be straight with the hands on the knees.
“Subhan rabbil adheem, subhan rabbil adheem, subhan rabbil adheem” he whispers.
He tries to imagine bowing before God.
“Semi Allahu lamin hamidah” he says before standing back up.
While in standing position he whispers, “rabbana lakl hamd”
“Allahu Akbar”
He goes back down but this time places his hands on the ground at shoulder width with his forehead and nose touching the ground.
“subhana rabbil alaa, subhana rabbil alaa, subhana rabbil alaa. Allahu akbar”
He sits up with his legs under his posterior, & then goes back down.
“subhana rabbil alaa, subhana rabbil alaa, subhana rabbil alaa. Allahu akbar”
He then stands back up. The first rakkah is over, one to go.
Having finished …..
“Atta-hiyyatu lillahi was-salawatu wat-tayyibatu As-salamu 'alaika ayyuh-an-Nabiyyu wa rahmat-ullahi wa barakatuhu As-salamu 'alaina wa 'alaa 'Ibaadillah-is-salihin. Ash-hadu-al-la-Ilaha illAllahu wa ash-hadu anna Muhammadan 'abduhu wa Rasuluh. Allahuma sali ala Muhammad wa ala Aali Muhammad kama saliet ala Ibrahim wa ala Aali Ibrahim ennak hameed majeed, wa barik ala Muhammad wa ala Aali Muhammad kama barakta ala Ibrahim wa ala Aali Ibrahim ennak hameed majeed”
He then turns his head to the right.
“As salaam alaiykum wa rahmatullah.”
Then to the left.
“As salaam alaiykum wa rahmatullah.”
He then gets up and takes off his thobe. Taking off his thobe he sits down on the bed and slips on some black tennis shoes.
The sun was still down, ideal in the south but in Canada not so much. Deciding to wait until the sun came up he turned on the television. The only thing he found worth watching was the news. He didn’t bother to overly listen as it was mostly mundane news of sports and protests over oil pipelines.
The sun began to rise at about seven a.m. Sighing with relief he rose from the bed, turned the television off and headed out. The time for the next prayer would not be until a little after noon and there were at least four hours before that, more than enough time to get in a good sweat running around the block.
Let the training begin. As he headed out the lobby he smiled. There was nothing like a good run, the heart pounding, adrenaline pumping, almost like a good match.
~4~
Masjid Toronto
12:45 p.m.
Pulling up in the 2012 black Dodge Charger Vincent put the car in park. He knew the call to prayer would be soon. The run had been exhilarating. After running for an hour, he had gone through the neighborhoods keeping an eye out for bricks and trash cans to lift. Nothing was quite as exhilarating as when he went by the gym though and slipped the staff member a hundred to let him work out for an hour. After pounding through the weights with some butterflys, shoulder presses, gorilla lifts, dead lifts, and barbell curls he went back to the hotel to get a shower before it was time for Jum’ma.
Turning off the ignition he got out of the car. It was a short walk to the Toronto Masjid. The masjid itself was a brick building in the downtown area. The parking lot was on the opposite side of the main street. He wore a gold colored kameez with fine embroidery and a black knitted kufi.
Walking into the main area of the masjid he headed to the prayer area. Before entering he took off his shoes and placed them in a wooden holder that was sitting beside the door. Entering into the main area he turned left and grabbed a sample of Egyptian musk that was sitting near the door along with other male oil. Taking the Egyptian musk he rolled it on his wrists and then rubs it together over his arms. He then takes it and rubs it over his neck before sitting it down and rubbing the oil into his neck.
Having put the perfume on he sits down as a man arises and begins to call the azan. Vincent listens with a smile. He always found comfort in the azan.
Upon the end of the azan the man sits down and the Imam rises from an elevated chair at the front center of the room.
“Assalamu ‘alaikum wa rahmatullah wa barakatuhu. Innal hamda Lillaahi nahmaduhu wa nasta’eenahu wa nastaghfiruhu, wa na’oodhu billaahi min shuroori anfusinaa wa min sayi’aati a’maalinaa. Man yahdih Illaahu falaa mudilla lahu wa man yudlil falaa haadiya lahu. Wa ashhadu an laa ilaaha ill-Allaah wahdahu la sharika lahu wa ashhadu anna Muhammadan ‘abduhu wa rasooluhu sallalahu alayhi wa ala alihi wasallam. Yuslih Lakum A’malukum wa yaghfir lakum dhunubakum wa mayin yuti illaha wa rasulahu faqad faza fauzan adheema. Amma Ba’ad. Fainna khairal hadeethi kitabullah, wa khairal hadi, hadi Muhammad (saw), wa sharrul umur muhdathatuha, wa kullu bida’atin dalaala, wa kullu dalalatin finnar.
Fellow Muslims! Fear Allaah, for you are now in a holy land and holy season; avail yourself of these two privileges so that you may prosper.
Brethren in faith! Social gatherings and assemblies, however high and noble their objectives may be, can never reach the sublimity of the goal of this gathering of pilgrimage to the House of Allaah in this sacred land, which Allaah has sanctified, protected and bestowed with complete and comprehensive security in which men, animals and plants are all guaranteed protection; this land in which tranquility has descended and the banner of Islaam is raised. Allaah says which means, “Indeed, the first House of worship established for mankind was that at Bakkah kkah)blessed and a guidance for the worlds. In it are clear signs such as the standing place of Abraham. And whoever enters it shall be safe. And due to Allaah from the people is a pilgrimage to the House for whoever is able to find thereto a way. But whoever disbelieves then indeed, Allaah is free from need of the worlds.'”
Hajj is ordained so that it can serve as a meeting point for the brothers in faith, a gathering for devotees and a refuge for the believers. They assemble there in answer to the call of Prophet Ibraaheem whom Allaah commanded thus, “…’Do not associate anything with Me and purify My House for those who perform tawaaf and those who stand in prayer and those who bow and prostrate. And proclaim to the people the Hajj; they will come to you on foot and on every lean camel; they will come from every distant pass – That they may witness benefits for themselves and mention the name of Allaah on known days over what He has provided for them of sacrificial animals. So eat of them and feed the miserable and poor.’”
Witnessing things that are of benefit, which is among the most prominent goals of Hajj, is an issue firmly linked with this obligation as it is one of its fruits. There are indeed countless benefits which all relate to the realization of the improvement of one’s life in this world and the next, elevation of the Muslim nation and the achievement of the pleasure of Allaah. Promoting solidarity amongst Muslims, working towards their unity and mending the broken relationships among them are some of the greatest benefits of Hajj, which plays a great role in preserving the Islaamic brotherhood that is highly extolled and blessed by Allaah when He says which means, “The believers are but brothers…”
Indeed, safeguarding this brotherhood and fulfilling its obligations are the major means of protecting the unity of this Ummah so that it can stand strong and formidable in the face of tribulations and in order to achieve glory, power and succession in the land as promised by Allaah, when He says which means, “Allaah has promised those who have believed among you and done righteous deeds that He will surely grant them succession upon the earth just as He granted it to those before them and that He will surely establish for them their religion which He has preferred for them and that He will surely substitute for them, after their feat, security, they worship Me, not associating anything with Me. But whoever disbelieves after that – then those the defiantly disobedient.”
Brethren in Islaam! The source of power of the Muslim nation that the pilgrim feels, stems from their belief in the Oneness of Allaah, which is evident in every ritual of Hajj. This feeling should then make him follow the ways that will lead to the preservation of that power by means of deep understanding of Islaam, sincerity and unrelenting efforts for the sake of their religion. Therefore, when the pilgrims are coming to perform Hajj, it is essential for them to broaden their perspectives and sense of understanding, in order to have true perception of the benefits of Hajj and so that they may transform them from mere theories and wishes into realities that will leave its positive and everlasting impacts on their lives. Thus, the pilgrim should, while reciting the Talbiyah a prayer recited by pilgrims going to Makkah, feel the real sense of liberation from the worship of fellow creatures to the worship of the Creator alone, by answering Allaah’s call and submitting to His authority.
It is not proper for a Muslim, after he has responded to the call of Allaah which He proclaimed through His friend Ibraaheem, to, then, respond to the call of Satan who only invites to disunity among Muslims. It is also not suitable for a Muslim to adopt the rites of other than those of the Islaamic Faith, which he proclaimed in the sites of forgiveness and mercy and by the House of Allaah, lest he be like the one who apostatizes and breaks his covenant with Him.
Fear Allaah and benefit from this great opportunity by fulfilling the goals of this deed. Endeavor to make the best use of this period by witnessing the real benefits of Hajj that are embodied in acts of worship. This will bring you closer to your Lord and promote unity among Muslims and, as a result, remove the aggression that Muslims in many countries are experiencing nowadays. Allaah says which means, “Hajj is during well-known months, so whoever has made Hajj obligatory upon himself therein by entering the state of Ihraam, there is to be for him no sexual relations and no disobedience and no disputing during Hajj. And whatever good you do – Allaah knows it. And take provisions, but indeed, the best provision is fear of Allaah. And fear Me, O you of understanding.”
Brethren in faith! Observing the benefits of Hajj is a great chance that must not be neglected. This is so because Allaah ordained Hajj and ordered His companion Ibraaheem to proclaim it amongst people so that they may witness its benefits; how can the purpose, then, be disregarded? When and how will the Muslim nation achieve its desired objectives if it turns away from the benefits of this great obligation?
Therefore, fear Allaah and make good use of the opportunity of this great pillar of Islaam and this blessed assembly, so as to be among the prosperous and victorious people.
Aqoolo qawli hadha wastaghfirullaha li wa lakum”
The imam then sits down, momentarily, and then stands back up.
“Allahumma salli ‘ala Muhammadin wa ‘ala ‘aali Muhammadin, kama salaiyta ‘ala Ibrahima wa ‘ala ‘aali Ibrahima innaka Hamidun Majeed.
Allahumma barik ‘ala Muhammadin wa ‘ala ali Muhammadin, kama sallaiyta ‘ala Ibrahima wa ‘ala ali Ibrahima, innaka Hamidun Majeed.
Rabbana athina fiddunya hasanah wa fil akhirati hasanah wa kina azabannar. Wa aqimissalah”
There is then the call to get in line, or Iqama. After which the Imam leads a two rakkah salah. After the salah the announcements are made. Vincent listens, for the sake of Allah, but leaves as soon as it is done.
He had a lot to take care of before his meeting.
~5~
Ted Reeve Community Arena
7p.m.
Vincent takes in a deep breath as he looks around. He looks at the camera man.
“Okay, roll”
{On Camera}
Vincent stands in front of the Ted Reeve Arena wearing a large fur lined coat with blue jeans and snow boots. Snow covers the ground. It is not quite dark out yet but the sun is setting.
“My name, for those of you who don’t know, is Vincent Williams.” Vincent says into the camera “My Muslim name is Abdullah Fathi.”
He motions for the camera man to follow him as he walks towards the steel doors of the community arena. A large guard is standing out front, a black guy with a big lined coat.
“Hey I know you.” The man declares
Vincent nods in appreciation.
“Salaam alaiykum” the man says
A smile crosses the face of Vincent.
“Walaiykum salaam brother” Vincent responds. “So how do you know me?”
“Well we get some of the U.S. television series up here. You were sick in the Whitecloud Battle Royal in M-C-W. I think you were still a Christian back then.”
“Yea I was.”
“So what are you doing here?”
“I am doing my whole commentary thing on the match against Troy Vincent.”
“Go on in man.”
Vincent walks through the steel doors and heads into the arena. He stops once he is inside the ringside area and he takes a seat with the camera to the left of him as he looks at the ring.
“Troy I know you were in U-W-L.” he begins “But, guess what? I don’t care. Look there.”
The camera turns from Vincent to the ring.
As it turns back to face Vincent it finds he is standing up. He motions for the camera to follow him as he walks down the middle aisle to the ring, itself. Vincent baseball slides under the ropes.
The camera man goes around and goes up the stairs. The camera faces Vincent as he sits down in a corner of the ring.
“First of all I know you were a world champion. That is all fine and dandy but let’s face it you were a champion. You said yourself that you were trying to be a grand slam champion. Why didn’t you make it?”
He pauses a moment to let the question sink in.
“You didn’t make it because you have peaked. Your time is up old timer.”
Suddenly his face alters and he stands up and moves towards the camera.
“Get this straight boy.” He begins waving his finger at the camera. “I ain’t confused about SHIT! I am a backwoods southerner raised north of Memphis in a town you wouldn’t know if I told you. I grew up listening to country music, and wearing cowboy boots. My family fought under Thomas Stonewall Jackson on my maternal grandfather’s side. I am a Muslim in that I practice Islam and I am redneck in that I will break my foot off in someone’s ass when I need to. I still believe in southern hospitality and southern culture.”
He stops waving his finger and then goes to sit atop one of the turnbuckles.
“You bigoted fuck I don’t live in a trailer park. I did notice you can’t make say shit without stumbling over your words like some fucking welfare recipient. How’s it feel to be stereotyped?”
An almost devious grin crosses his face.
“Now you want to talk about starting out with nothing?” he asks, rhetorically. “Take a look around you. You know jack shit about having nothing. I got into this business while I was still a fast food working making minimum wage.”
Vincent jumps down from the turnbuckle.
“All I hear you talking about is you and what you will do and how you, you, you.”
He shakes his head while looking down before turning back to the camera.
“That is why you will lose.” He explains “You are nothing but ego and pride. I ain’t stepping into that ring to prove myself. I am stepping between those ropes to take care of my family. I am stepping between those ropes, again, because with every victory I get the more people listen to what I have to say and the more I can fight the lies that have been spread about Islam. With each victory I gain a broader audience and I can do more work for Islam.”
Vincent walks to the ropes themselves.
“Take a look at where these ropes stand compared to me.”
The ropes stop just a few inches below his neckline.
“It is not just about Islam, or just about my family. With each battle I give hope to all those kids out there that know they are not going to grow up to be six feet tall. To all those working poor out there who think that this is the end of the line, that there is no point left in trying. If breaking my body month after month is going to bring truth to people about Islam, if it will give hope to children who think they can’t because of their size, if it will bring back the concept of hard work can actually help one get ahead if they are willing to try then I will step between those ropes and I will bring those people hope. I will use this microphone to spread the truth about Islam.”
He steps away from the ropes.
“Look out there.”
The camera turns from Vincent to the empty arena.
“I look out there and I don’t just envision the fans cheering, I see the fan who saved up his money for weeks to come see one show because going out every night for him is not an option. I see the fifteen year old boy who knows that this is a big as he is going to get. I see the man with the broom cleaning up the trash and wishing that he could afford to take a day off. I see the security guard standing in the freezing cold because he wants to make sure the heat stays on for his children at home.”
The camera returns to face Vincent Williams.
“Now what does being Muslim have to do with any of this?” he asks “Everything. You see it takes a lot of self-discipline to even be Muslim. You have to wake up before dawn. There are set times to make prayer and if you don’t make it on time you have missed it and you still have to do it later along with the one due. During the month of Ramadan you must go from dawn to sunset with no food, water, cigarettes, or sex. You still go to work, you still pay bills, and you still make your prayers on time.”
The angle of the camera changes as if facing Vincent from a different view.
“Tyson fought for himself. Muhammad Ali fought for his people, and for Allah. Who would you say was the better fighter?”
A slow grin crosses the face of Vincent Williams.
“I am not Allah subhana wa tala so I do not pretend to know the outcome of this match but I do know that a man who fights for himself never gets as far as the man who fights for others. A man who has a cause is always a better fighter than the man who is driven by love of self. Now I get paid no matter what happens but I need the victory to get the audience. So, with that said I hope you are ready because I cannot show you any mercy. I hope it is not going to be overkill but I have no tolerance for egoistic self loving bigots like you. You see Troy you are about to fall on hard times because your skills are faded. Your time to shine is gone; the lights that once guided your way are broke just like your career. And since we are talking about how much do you really have to brag about? You won the world championship once and then only held it for a month. What’s the matter Troy? Couldn’t beat two people?”
Vincent shakes his head chuckling before continuing.
“For the oppressed I will beat you, for the truth I will beat and for your bigotry I will beat you. Everyone said I would never rise above Sickle, one of my teachers. He held several titles. He held world titles for months, not a month. He put people in the hospital and I beat the brakes off him what makes you think you are any different? Our match will be held at a show called Respect is Earned and if you want that respect you are going to have to earn it. Toronto has one of the largest Muslim populations in the North American continent. What do you think the chances are that a large chunk of the people watching will be Muslim? You treat Islam and rednecks both like they are jokes. In older times they would stone someone for transgressing certain boundaries. This is October and in the Islamic calendar it is Hajj, the annual pilgrimage of Muslims to Mecca. During the Hajj they will throw stones at the devil and this act is known as rajm. At Respect is Earned you will face a rajm. My legal name is Vincent Williams, my chosen Muslim name is Abdullah Fathi. My family and friends call me Vincent, my Muslim brothers and sisters call me Abdullah you are neither so you can call me Fathi. Fathi means conqueror and come Respect is Earned it is you that I will conquer.”
The camera goes to black.
~1~
Home of Vincent Williams
“As salaamu alaiykum wa rahmatullah” he said while turning his head to the right. Turning his head to the left he repeated the phrase.
It was just past four p.m. Asr was considered the most important salah of the day. Sitting in his white thobe Vincent reflected on the past. In the mirror of the present the past always seems like some far away land. Just a couple short years ago he had been among the ignorant, hating Islam and now he was Muslim.
For him it seemed ages ago. Most of his life he had fervently studied the Bible in an earnest attempt to serve God. It was from that devotion he had come to Islam. Being a diehard, unapologetic, Bible thumping near militant Christian he despised Islam (at the time).
Every day he would hear some report of Muslims killing innocent, unarmed civilians. That was what got his goat, as they say. As a die-hard southern protestant Christian he could actually related to the hatred of the American secularist government. But, nothing excused the killing of unarmed civilians. That was part of why he despised Lincoln.
Finally one day, late November, he decided to prove Islam was evil. He was convinced, though, that fabrications were not the answer. Rather he would seek out the truth. In order to prove his argument he would need to learn their beliefs in vivid detail. The only real question was where to start at.
“Hey hun.” His wife came in, the moment of reflection was over.
Vincent stood up, his white thobe resting just above his shoes.
“What’s up?” he inquired before taking his thobe off revealing blue jeans and a plain olive green tee shirt.
“Dinners ready” she answered. “I made some chile for you too.”
He smiled. Chile, not chili, was basically pico de gallo with a bit more emphasis on the peppers and blended together. It was said, of chile, that the madder the woman is making it the hotter the sauce will be. He preferred to just have it be a bit milder than get the wife mad.
“I love you” he replied as they headed to the dining room.
As he headed to the dining room he couldn’t help but to be grateful for all that he had. So many don’t realize what they have until it is too late. In this way he knew he was blessed. Nothing could ever make him forget who he was or where he came from.
Sitting down at the table he smiles at his wife.
“What’s on your mind hun?”
“Just thinking how lucky I am.”
“Aww.” She leans over and kisses him.
The two commence to eating. As they eat Vincent is silent. Many people dreams of having a big house and fancy cars. All he ever dreamed of was a simple life, a steady place to call home, a reliable vehicle and no stress over bills.
“You okay babe?”
“Yeah I’m fine…” his words drift “…just thinking about how far I have come, and what all we have. Tu sabes?
Her lips move sideways and purse out a little.
“You’ve earned it all baby and no one can ever take that from you. Enjoy the moment.”
He was trying to ‘enjoy the moment.’ But, it all just seemed surreal.
The departure tomorrow wouldn’t be too bad. Over the past year or so they had gotten used to the work trips. It was part of their life now. Both of them had grown accustomed to this. Although, it had been a bit of a strain on his school work. He knew he was very lucky to have such an understanding wife.
He probably knew it better than most. His ex wife had never been that understanding of his wrestling career. She claimed to support him but there was always some issue about his time on the road, some argument. Funny, though, it had been while he was with her that he had first begun his wrestling career. But, arguably one could say it really began before her.
~2~
He had been working at a Taco Bell at the time barely making enough to survive. The idea of being in wrestling simply had never crossed his mind. Then one day he had run across a man named Scott Stonewall. At the time Scott was wrestling in FWF as part of the Dark Riders Gang with Sickle a.k.a. Ariel James.
Scott was a smash mouth biker dripping with charisma. His in your face mentality had really attracted Vincent to the business. He had always been a fan of wrestling but after having watched one of Scott’s shoot he realized that he wanted to be in the business. It was a life altering decision.
It took many weeks to track down Scott Stonewall. He didn’t want to settle for just any trainer. If he was going to do this he wanted Scott to train him. But, he got a bit more than he bargained for. The first encounter alone was a bit startling.
The location was a warehouse in Memphis, Tennessee. Vincent was relatively familiar with having grown up just north of Memphis. When he walked into the building he found not one but four men waiting for him. He spotted Scott Stonewall instantly.
Scott was leaning against the wall on the far side of the ring. Next to him was an even bigger man that Vincent would later learn was Scott’s long time tag team partner, Andre Bates. The man was a behemoth. He wore blue jeans and a cut off shirt with his hair draping behind his head. Standing dead center facing Vincent was a man of about average height. He had long black hair. He wore black slacks tucked into black boots with a black cloth shirt that went to his wrists. Next to him was the notoriously infamous Sickle, a man well known for his ruthlessness to those he liked and disliked.
“Welcome, I am Alexander James.”
Vincent extended his hand which was met by that of Alexander.
“So, how’s this work?”
Alexander laughed.
“Follow me and I will give you the tour.”
The other three made no move as the two toured the facility.
“Over here is the ring.” Alexander said as they passed by the ring. The lighting in the warehouse was minimal. But, Vincent could make out the general features of the ring. There were four turnbuckles connected by three ropes, and a grey mat.
Alexander kept walking until stopping by some free weights.
“Over here are the free weights.” He explained “We will not be using these.”
“Wait, what?”
Alexander seemed amused by the question.
“With your size we could let you train for strength but lifting weights is not going to do nearly as well as the methods that we have in mind.”
“Which is what?”
Alexander snickered. He turned from the free weights and faced Vincent. Now all four men had eyes on Vincent.
“You will be getting cardio, strength training, diet, and of course skill training as we show you how to operate inside of a ring.”
“And how do you intend to do that?”
Alexander placed his hand on the shoulder of Vincent.
“I like you.” Alexander declared. “You are straight to the point. Well basically what we intend to do for your cardio is a slow build up not unlike the way that prisoners might train. First we will have you run around the warehouse including suicides for a couple of hours at a time. When you have become used to this you will run in different parts of the city to get used to terrain as sometimes the fight occurs outside of the ring. For the strength training we will have you chop wood, lift top soil, dig ditches, carry sand bags, lift either myself or my brother fireman style and other similar activities…”
Vincent’s head buzzed as Alexander laid out the extensive training he was to undergo. It was like nothing he had ever heard. He knew they knew what they were doing. They were the Dark Riders Gang, a group that once dominated the wrestling world holding every title it ever wanted. Their dominance was legendary.
The first day was to beyond what he had ever imagined. He started off with dietary alterations. He was to eat two bowls of beans for protein, a glass of milk for calcium, and a small side of spinach. After eating they went to the warehouse.
Upon arriving at the warehouse Vincent was instructed to begin running around the warehouse.
“How many times?”
“Until we tell you to stop.”
And so the training began. The hardest part of it was not the running, or the in ring sparring. Rather it was the fist hardening.
“Ultimately while strength and agility will help you it is your fists that will really be your ally because size is not on your side.” Scott Stonewall explained.
A steel car door was hung from the ceiling by a chain and he was to punch it until his hand was covered in blood. They would then wrap it up, give it a few days to heal up and do it all over again. The training was tough but it was what he needed and he never deterred from it. Too many in the business trained like body builders.
~3~
Toronto, Ontario, Canada
5:00 a.m.
He knew this was the case now. Lifting weights like so many others would not be a good way to train for fighting someone like Troy Vincent.
The sun still had not risen. For Vincent waking up before sunrise had been the hardest part of being Muslim. A lot of it had taken time but the waking for Fajr had always been difficult. Fajr was the morning worship performed by all Muslims, Sunni and Shi’ite.
Throwing his feet off the bed he gets up and heads to the bathroom. Turning on the sink he runs water over his right hand first, three times and repeats the pattern on his left hand. He then rinses his mouth out proceeded by rinsing his nose out. He then wipes his face with water before wiping his beard with water and then running water over his right forearm and then his left. After this he runs water through his hair and then over his feet right then left.
Having made wudu he leaves the bathroom and opens the stand up closet in the hotel room. Inside the closet is a pair of blue jeans and a plain white tee shirt folded up on the shelf. Above that is a pearly white thobe hanging on a single bar with a wire hanger.
Reaching into the closet he grabs the pants and shirt and places them over his body. Having secured the pants with a belt he grabs his chain wallet off the dresser and snaps it over a belt loop before reaching into the closet and grabbing the thobe. Carefully he slips the thobe over his head before putting his arms through and making sure the thobe is all the way down he checks the time, 5:30 a.m. Still fourteen minutes to go.
He turns on the television to kill time. After awhile the time flies by and it is finally time for Fajr. Vincent turns off the television and directs himself northeast.
“Allahu akbar!” Takbir. That is what they call it when one says ‘Allahu Akbar’.
“Authu billahi minashaitnir rajim, bismillahir rahmanir rahim.
Al ḥamdu lillāhi rabbi l-’ālamīn. Ar raḥmāni r-raḥīm. Māliki yawmi d-dīn. Iyyāka na’budu wa iyyāka nasta’īn. Ihdinā ṣ-ṣirāṭ al-mustaqīm. Ṣirāṭ al-laḏīna an’amta ‘alayhim ġayril maġḍūbi ‘alayhim walāḍ ḍāllīn. Ameen.
Qul huwal laahu ahad. Allah hus-samad. Lam yalid wa lam yoolad. Wa lam yakul-lahu kufuwan ahad.”
He pauses a moment to reflect on the words. It was all about the concentration and the intention.
“Allahu Akbar”
Bending over he entered into the bowing position. The back had to be straight with the hands on the knees.
“Subhan rabbil adheem, subhan rabbil adheem, subhan rabbil adheem” he whispers.
He tries to imagine bowing before God.
“Semi Allahu lamin hamidah” he says before standing back up.
While in standing position he whispers, “rabbana lakl hamd”
“Allahu Akbar”
He goes back down but this time places his hands on the ground at shoulder width with his forehead and nose touching the ground.
“subhana rabbil alaa, subhana rabbil alaa, subhana rabbil alaa. Allahu akbar”
He sits up with his legs under his posterior, & then goes back down.
“subhana rabbil alaa, subhana rabbil alaa, subhana rabbil alaa. Allahu akbar”
He then stands back up. The first rakkah is over, one to go.
Having finished …..
“Atta-hiyyatu lillahi was-salawatu wat-tayyibatu As-salamu 'alaika ayyuh-an-Nabiyyu wa rahmat-ullahi wa barakatuhu As-salamu 'alaina wa 'alaa 'Ibaadillah-is-salihin. Ash-hadu-al-la-Ilaha illAllahu wa ash-hadu anna Muhammadan 'abduhu wa Rasuluh. Allahuma sali ala Muhammad wa ala Aali Muhammad kama saliet ala Ibrahim wa ala Aali Ibrahim ennak hameed majeed, wa barik ala Muhammad wa ala Aali Muhammad kama barakta ala Ibrahim wa ala Aali Ibrahim ennak hameed majeed”
He then turns his head to the right.
“As salaam alaiykum wa rahmatullah.”
Then to the left.
“As salaam alaiykum wa rahmatullah.”
He then gets up and takes off his thobe. Taking off his thobe he sits down on the bed and slips on some black tennis shoes.
The sun was still down, ideal in the south but in Canada not so much. Deciding to wait until the sun came up he turned on the television. The only thing he found worth watching was the news. He didn’t bother to overly listen as it was mostly mundane news of sports and protests over oil pipelines.
The sun began to rise at about seven a.m. Sighing with relief he rose from the bed, turned the television off and headed out. The time for the next prayer would not be until a little after noon and there were at least four hours before that, more than enough time to get in a good sweat running around the block.
Let the training begin. As he headed out the lobby he smiled. There was nothing like a good run, the heart pounding, adrenaline pumping, almost like a good match.
~4~
Masjid Toronto
12:45 p.m.
Pulling up in the 2012 black Dodge Charger Vincent put the car in park. He knew the call to prayer would be soon. The run had been exhilarating. After running for an hour, he had gone through the neighborhoods keeping an eye out for bricks and trash cans to lift. Nothing was quite as exhilarating as when he went by the gym though and slipped the staff member a hundred to let him work out for an hour. After pounding through the weights with some butterflys, shoulder presses, gorilla lifts, dead lifts, and barbell curls he went back to the hotel to get a shower before it was time for Jum’ma.
Turning off the ignition he got out of the car. It was a short walk to the Toronto Masjid. The masjid itself was a brick building in the downtown area. The parking lot was on the opposite side of the main street. He wore a gold colored kameez with fine embroidery and a black knitted kufi.
Walking into the main area of the masjid he headed to the prayer area. Before entering he took off his shoes and placed them in a wooden holder that was sitting beside the door. Entering into the main area he turned left and grabbed a sample of Egyptian musk that was sitting near the door along with other male oil. Taking the Egyptian musk he rolled it on his wrists and then rubs it together over his arms. He then takes it and rubs it over his neck before sitting it down and rubbing the oil into his neck.
Having put the perfume on he sits down as a man arises and begins to call the azan. Vincent listens with a smile. He always found comfort in the azan.
Upon the end of the azan the man sits down and the Imam rises from an elevated chair at the front center of the room.
“Assalamu ‘alaikum wa rahmatullah wa barakatuhu. Innal hamda Lillaahi nahmaduhu wa nasta’eenahu wa nastaghfiruhu, wa na’oodhu billaahi min shuroori anfusinaa wa min sayi’aati a’maalinaa. Man yahdih Illaahu falaa mudilla lahu wa man yudlil falaa haadiya lahu. Wa ashhadu an laa ilaaha ill-Allaah wahdahu la sharika lahu wa ashhadu anna Muhammadan ‘abduhu wa rasooluhu sallalahu alayhi wa ala alihi wasallam. Yuslih Lakum A’malukum wa yaghfir lakum dhunubakum wa mayin yuti illaha wa rasulahu faqad faza fauzan adheema. Amma Ba’ad. Fainna khairal hadeethi kitabullah, wa khairal hadi, hadi Muhammad (saw), wa sharrul umur muhdathatuha, wa kullu bida’atin dalaala, wa kullu dalalatin finnar.
Fellow Muslims! Fear Allaah, for you are now in a holy land and holy season; avail yourself of these two privileges so that you may prosper.
Brethren in faith! Social gatherings and assemblies, however high and noble their objectives may be, can never reach the sublimity of the goal of this gathering of pilgrimage to the House of Allaah in this sacred land, which Allaah has sanctified, protected and bestowed with complete and comprehensive security in which men, animals and plants are all guaranteed protection; this land in which tranquility has descended and the banner of Islaam is raised. Allaah says which means, “Indeed, the first House of worship established for mankind was that at Bakkah kkah)blessed and a guidance for the worlds. In it are clear signs such as the standing place of Abraham. And whoever enters it shall be safe. And due to Allaah from the people is a pilgrimage to the House for whoever is able to find thereto a way. But whoever disbelieves then indeed, Allaah is free from need of the worlds.'”
Hajj is ordained so that it can serve as a meeting point for the brothers in faith, a gathering for devotees and a refuge for the believers. They assemble there in answer to the call of Prophet Ibraaheem whom Allaah commanded thus, “…’Do not associate anything with Me and purify My House for those who perform tawaaf and those who stand in prayer and those who bow and prostrate. And proclaim to the people the Hajj; they will come to you on foot and on every lean camel; they will come from every distant pass – That they may witness benefits for themselves and mention the name of Allaah on known days over what He has provided for them of sacrificial animals. So eat of them and feed the miserable and poor.’”
Witnessing things that are of benefit, which is among the most prominent goals of Hajj, is an issue firmly linked with this obligation as it is one of its fruits. There are indeed countless benefits which all relate to the realization of the improvement of one’s life in this world and the next, elevation of the Muslim nation and the achievement of the pleasure of Allaah. Promoting solidarity amongst Muslims, working towards their unity and mending the broken relationships among them are some of the greatest benefits of Hajj, which plays a great role in preserving the Islaamic brotherhood that is highly extolled and blessed by Allaah when He says which means, “The believers are but brothers…”
Indeed, safeguarding this brotherhood and fulfilling its obligations are the major means of protecting the unity of this Ummah so that it can stand strong and formidable in the face of tribulations and in order to achieve glory, power and succession in the land as promised by Allaah, when He says which means, “Allaah has promised those who have believed among you and done righteous deeds that He will surely grant them succession upon the earth just as He granted it to those before them and that He will surely establish for them their religion which He has preferred for them and that He will surely substitute for them, after their feat, security, they worship Me, not associating anything with Me. But whoever disbelieves after that – then those the defiantly disobedient.”
Brethren in Islaam! The source of power of the Muslim nation that the pilgrim feels, stems from their belief in the Oneness of Allaah, which is evident in every ritual of Hajj. This feeling should then make him follow the ways that will lead to the preservation of that power by means of deep understanding of Islaam, sincerity and unrelenting efforts for the sake of their religion. Therefore, when the pilgrims are coming to perform Hajj, it is essential for them to broaden their perspectives and sense of understanding, in order to have true perception of the benefits of Hajj and so that they may transform them from mere theories and wishes into realities that will leave its positive and everlasting impacts on their lives. Thus, the pilgrim should, while reciting the Talbiyah a prayer recited by pilgrims going to Makkah, feel the real sense of liberation from the worship of fellow creatures to the worship of the Creator alone, by answering Allaah’s call and submitting to His authority.
It is not proper for a Muslim, after he has responded to the call of Allaah which He proclaimed through His friend Ibraaheem, to, then, respond to the call of Satan who only invites to disunity among Muslims. It is also not suitable for a Muslim to adopt the rites of other than those of the Islaamic Faith, which he proclaimed in the sites of forgiveness and mercy and by the House of Allaah, lest he be like the one who apostatizes and breaks his covenant with Him.
Fear Allaah and benefit from this great opportunity by fulfilling the goals of this deed. Endeavor to make the best use of this period by witnessing the real benefits of Hajj that are embodied in acts of worship. This will bring you closer to your Lord and promote unity among Muslims and, as a result, remove the aggression that Muslims in many countries are experiencing nowadays. Allaah says which means, “Hajj is during well-known months, so whoever has made Hajj obligatory upon himself therein by entering the state of Ihraam, there is to be for him no sexual relations and no disobedience and no disputing during Hajj. And whatever good you do – Allaah knows it. And take provisions, but indeed, the best provision is fear of Allaah. And fear Me, O you of understanding.”
Brethren in faith! Observing the benefits of Hajj is a great chance that must not be neglected. This is so because Allaah ordained Hajj and ordered His companion Ibraaheem to proclaim it amongst people so that they may witness its benefits; how can the purpose, then, be disregarded? When and how will the Muslim nation achieve its desired objectives if it turns away from the benefits of this great obligation?
Therefore, fear Allaah and make good use of the opportunity of this great pillar of Islaam and this blessed assembly, so as to be among the prosperous and victorious people.
Aqoolo qawli hadha wastaghfirullaha li wa lakum”
The imam then sits down, momentarily, and then stands back up.
“Allahumma salli ‘ala Muhammadin wa ‘ala ‘aali Muhammadin, kama salaiyta ‘ala Ibrahima wa ‘ala ‘aali Ibrahima innaka Hamidun Majeed.
Allahumma barik ‘ala Muhammadin wa ‘ala ali Muhammadin, kama sallaiyta ‘ala Ibrahima wa ‘ala ali Ibrahima, innaka Hamidun Majeed.
Rabbana athina fiddunya hasanah wa fil akhirati hasanah wa kina azabannar. Wa aqimissalah”
There is then the call to get in line, or Iqama. After which the Imam leads a two rakkah salah. After the salah the announcements are made. Vincent listens, for the sake of Allah, but leaves as soon as it is done.
He had a lot to take care of before his meeting.
~5~
Ted Reeve Community Arena
7p.m.
Vincent takes in a deep breath as he looks around. He looks at the camera man.
“Okay, roll”
{On Camera}
Vincent stands in front of the Ted Reeve Arena wearing a large fur lined coat with blue jeans and snow boots. Snow covers the ground. It is not quite dark out yet but the sun is setting.
“My name, for those of you who don’t know, is Vincent Williams.” Vincent says into the camera “My Muslim name is Abdullah Fathi.”
He motions for the camera man to follow him as he walks towards the steel doors of the community arena. A large guard is standing out front, a black guy with a big lined coat.
“Hey I know you.” The man declares
Vincent nods in appreciation.
“Salaam alaiykum” the man says
A smile crosses the face of Vincent.
“Walaiykum salaam brother” Vincent responds. “So how do you know me?”
“Well we get some of the U.S. television series up here. You were sick in the Whitecloud Battle Royal in M-C-W. I think you were still a Christian back then.”
“Yea I was.”
“So what are you doing here?”
“I am doing my whole commentary thing on the match against Troy Vincent.”
“Go on in man.”
Vincent walks through the steel doors and heads into the arena. He stops once he is inside the ringside area and he takes a seat with the camera to the left of him as he looks at the ring.
“Troy I know you were in U-W-L.” he begins “But, guess what? I don’t care. Look there.”
The camera turns from Vincent to the ring.
As it turns back to face Vincent it finds he is standing up. He motions for the camera to follow him as he walks down the middle aisle to the ring, itself. Vincent baseball slides under the ropes.
The camera man goes around and goes up the stairs. The camera faces Vincent as he sits down in a corner of the ring.
“First of all I know you were a world champion. That is all fine and dandy but let’s face it you were a champion. You said yourself that you were trying to be a grand slam champion. Why didn’t you make it?”
He pauses a moment to let the question sink in.
“You didn’t make it because you have peaked. Your time is up old timer.”
Suddenly his face alters and he stands up and moves towards the camera.
“Get this straight boy.” He begins waving his finger at the camera. “I ain’t confused about SHIT! I am a backwoods southerner raised north of Memphis in a town you wouldn’t know if I told you. I grew up listening to country music, and wearing cowboy boots. My family fought under Thomas Stonewall Jackson on my maternal grandfather’s side. I am a Muslim in that I practice Islam and I am redneck in that I will break my foot off in someone’s ass when I need to. I still believe in southern hospitality and southern culture.”
He stops waving his finger and then goes to sit atop one of the turnbuckles.
“You bigoted fuck I don’t live in a trailer park. I did notice you can’t make say shit without stumbling over your words like some fucking welfare recipient. How’s it feel to be stereotyped?”
An almost devious grin crosses his face.
“Now you want to talk about starting out with nothing?” he asks, rhetorically. “Take a look around you. You know jack shit about having nothing. I got into this business while I was still a fast food working making minimum wage.”
Vincent jumps down from the turnbuckle.
“All I hear you talking about is you and what you will do and how you, you, you.”
He shakes his head while looking down before turning back to the camera.
“That is why you will lose.” He explains “You are nothing but ego and pride. I ain’t stepping into that ring to prove myself. I am stepping between those ropes to take care of my family. I am stepping between those ropes, again, because with every victory I get the more people listen to what I have to say and the more I can fight the lies that have been spread about Islam. With each victory I gain a broader audience and I can do more work for Islam.”
Vincent walks to the ropes themselves.
“Take a look at where these ropes stand compared to me.”
The ropes stop just a few inches below his neckline.
“It is not just about Islam, or just about my family. With each battle I give hope to all those kids out there that know they are not going to grow up to be six feet tall. To all those working poor out there who think that this is the end of the line, that there is no point left in trying. If breaking my body month after month is going to bring truth to people about Islam, if it will give hope to children who think they can’t because of their size, if it will bring back the concept of hard work can actually help one get ahead if they are willing to try then I will step between those ropes and I will bring those people hope. I will use this microphone to spread the truth about Islam.”
He steps away from the ropes.
“Look out there.”
The camera turns from Vincent to the empty arena.
“I look out there and I don’t just envision the fans cheering, I see the fan who saved up his money for weeks to come see one show because going out every night for him is not an option. I see the fifteen year old boy who knows that this is a big as he is going to get. I see the man with the broom cleaning up the trash and wishing that he could afford to take a day off. I see the security guard standing in the freezing cold because he wants to make sure the heat stays on for his children at home.”
The camera returns to face Vincent Williams.
“Now what does being Muslim have to do with any of this?” he asks “Everything. You see it takes a lot of self-discipline to even be Muslim. You have to wake up before dawn. There are set times to make prayer and if you don’t make it on time you have missed it and you still have to do it later along with the one due. During the month of Ramadan you must go from dawn to sunset with no food, water, cigarettes, or sex. You still go to work, you still pay bills, and you still make your prayers on time.”
The angle of the camera changes as if facing Vincent from a different view.
“Tyson fought for himself. Muhammad Ali fought for his people, and for Allah. Who would you say was the better fighter?”
A slow grin crosses the face of Vincent Williams.
“I am not Allah subhana wa tala so I do not pretend to know the outcome of this match but I do know that a man who fights for himself never gets as far as the man who fights for others. A man who has a cause is always a better fighter than the man who is driven by love of self. Now I get paid no matter what happens but I need the victory to get the audience. So, with that said I hope you are ready because I cannot show you any mercy. I hope it is not going to be overkill but I have no tolerance for egoistic self loving bigots like you. You see Troy you are about to fall on hard times because your skills are faded. Your time to shine is gone; the lights that once guided your way are broke just like your career. And since we are talking about how much do you really have to brag about? You won the world championship once and then only held it for a month. What’s the matter Troy? Couldn’t beat two people?”
Vincent shakes his head chuckling before continuing.
“For the oppressed I will beat you, for the truth I will beat and for your bigotry I will beat you. Everyone said I would never rise above Sickle, one of my teachers. He held several titles. He held world titles for months, not a month. He put people in the hospital and I beat the brakes off him what makes you think you are any different? Our match will be held at a show called Respect is Earned and if you want that respect you are going to have to earn it. Toronto has one of the largest Muslim populations in the North American continent. What do you think the chances are that a large chunk of the people watching will be Muslim? You treat Islam and rednecks both like they are jokes. In older times they would stone someone for transgressing certain boundaries. This is October and in the Islamic calendar it is Hajj, the annual pilgrimage of Muslims to Mecca. During the Hajj they will throw stones at the devil and this act is known as rajm. At Respect is Earned you will face a rajm. My legal name is Vincent Williams, my chosen Muslim name is Abdullah Fathi. My family and friends call me Vincent, my Muslim brothers and sisters call me Abdullah you are neither so you can call me Fathi. Fathi means conqueror and come Respect is Earned it is you that I will conquer.”
The camera goes to black.