Desperate Times

The man sat on the hard steps of the liquor store, rubbing his nose against the dog's furry cheek. It was a mangy old mutt, dirty and skinny, not good for anything except eating your food. The man sighed. He knew the dog had to be sold, but how can you sell your best friend in the whole world? It had been a loyal companion who had stayed through it all - the rejections, the poverty, the eviction, even the cold nights sleeping on the bus station bench. His money was gone, his acting career nonexistent, and now the one thing that brought him joy was about to disappear forever.

As the night grew colder, the man's pain grew deeper. Would no one even buy his dog? Was the world so cruel as to ignore this starving creature and his master, unable to provide food? Maybe he should forget the whole thing. Who would want the brute anyhow? Then a little fellow, no more than five feet tall sauntered up to the poor distraught pet-owner. Casually, he slapped twenty-five dollars onto the cold cement beside the man. "Keep the change," he chuckled. "Looks like you need it." And just like that, it was over. 

The man watched as the small frame and the big dog vanished into the darkness. His heart began to burn inside his chest. How could he let this happen? Twenty-five dollars for his most valuable possession. What was next? He had nothing left to sell and no way to earn cash. Would he sell himself? Slowly the man trudged back to his bed beneath the bus station bench. As he lay there, shivering from cold, staring into the abyss, a thought began to creep into his wave of conscience. This thought quickly became an idea, which then catapulted into a plan fortified with all the resolve of a desperate being. The fact was, this looked like the end of the road for this starving, seemingly talentless actor. He had struck bottom and as he had often been told, when you hit rock bottom, there is nowhere to go but up. He was going to get his dog back, he decided, and he was going to do it no matter the cost.

No, this would not be the end for the soon-to-be famous movie star. In fact, this point of despair would lead to his greatest work, a script that would become a movie, that would in turn propel this starving homeless man into America’s spotlight. As we look back on history, it is evident to us now that without the motivation of desperation this man, Sylvester Stallone, may have never written the screenplay -inspired by a boxing match- destined to become famous in the cinematic universe. He may have never had the courage to repeatedly turn down the studio’s offers until they promised him a lead role in the film.

It's funny, isn’t it, how we stare through the window of time as gods who know the end from the beginning. We are quick to pass judgment and spot the errors of those humans throughout history who needed to do things just a little differently. “Oh if only he had known the fortune that awaited him just around the corner,” we might find ourselves saying, “maybe he would not have given into such despair.” Yet in our own lives, how many times do we find ourselves falling short of perfection? There are moments when the future alludes us and the vivid emotions of present events overtake our senses, thus pushing out of mind the reality that all things are temporary and time is only a dot on the painting of eternity. When you find yourself questioning the place you are in, do you think to yourself, “this too shall pass”, or do go running to those vices that destroy the blessings that pain can produce? May we never forget the good that can come from the hurt- the creativity, compassion, friendship, and love. May we never cease in rediscovering our own humanity and ever looking to the God who really can determine the end from the beginning. The God who can turn darkness into the greatest light and paint a rainbow from the most brutal of storms.

And what became of Sylvester’s ever loyal companion, the pet who had been his best friend? 

As the little fellow who bought the dog strolled away from the liquor store that cold night, he grinned widely at his own cleverness. Twenty-five dollars. What a bargain! Money was just so hard to come by, especially for a man of his size and stature. He was not a very tall man, in fact his friends called him Little Jimmy, but despite all their teasing, there never was a better negotiator. “Why,” he thought to himself, “I could sell ice to an eskimo I could.” And wouldn’t his family just be thrilled with this new pet? He puffed his chest out with pride and began whistling into the brisk air while the large dog trotted along beside him. 

A couple of months later, Little Jimmy again found himself on the steps of the liquor store. There, in the same place he had sat before, stood the man who had sold him the dog. “What a surprise,” Jimmy thought to himself. I wonder if he is here to see how his beast is faring”. They exchanged pleasantries and sure enough the man, who we now know as Sylvester, desperately wanted to repurchase his best friend. Little Jimmy however, was no fool. If this man cared so much about his dog, he must be willing to pay a lot for it. They began to haggle and the prize quickly began to rise: seven hundred, eight hundred, three thousand. At five thousand, Sylvester stopped and introduced a very intresting deal: five thousand dollars up front and a cameo role in a new movie. Little Jimmy knew when he had struck a bargain. Quickly he reached out his hand and they shook on it. 

And that is the story of how Little Jimmy got a role in the movie that Sylvester Salone had written, a movie created in the midst of crisis and pain, and a movie that the dog himself would appear in. A movie called Rocky.