Leroy “The Supreme” Robinson is an African American man in his late thirties remembering how his life changed. He was born and raised in Brooklyn, NY where he learned how to fight and that is exactly what he did, all the time. He had so much misdirected anger that after he graduated from high school his father took him to the local boxing gym and it was there that he finally found his way. He stopped being violent towards other people and started directing his skills into the ring. He became the man his father always knew he could be. But one night after a fight, the first fight that Leroy brings his eight-year-old son to, he finds himself in the alley with his son and father walking towards his car and looking down the barrel of a gun. He had fought so hard to not use his hands for harm but as he stands frozen in time listening to his son cry in fear he does what he must do to protect him. When he comes out of his rage and the man is dead Leroy realizes that he didn’t even know his greatest fear until now and even though it was self defense a life is a life. He ends much like he began, standing in front of a mirror remembering how he got there, getting prepared for his son’s high school graduation realizing that he did change his life around for the better, through every fist he threw.
Male- Powerful Hands
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- (Scene opens with Leroy “The Supreme” Robinson standing in a mirror putting on a tie, then he stops. He is looking over his body almost as an investigation. He goes into a fighter’s stance. He is clearly a boxer by his stance. He is in his late thirties, and clearly not fighting anymore.) Never thought I was gonna be a boxer, hell I honestly didn’t think I was gonna be shit the way my life was going. (Laughs) Born and raised making my way in Brooklyn, New York I was getting tired of fighting the niggas on the street over the petty stuff that we was fighting over. (Laughs, remembers) I once fought Lex Jones because I heard he wanted to date my older sister. (Laughs) Ain’t that something? The man hadn’t even done nothing wrong but he thought about doing something (Laughs) and that was enough for me to pull him off of the bus, tell him to get his hands up, he ran, I caught him, turned him over and drilled my right hook into his face and he…passed out. (Beat) I was fourteen. It wasn’t that I was angry, I didn’t have a hell of a lot to be angry about I was just, mad at the world maybe, adapting to my surroundings, board to death. Hell I don’t know. But a few years later after some serious intervention, broken windows and two assault charges my pops came in and told me that I had to fix my attitude or get out his house. I was just seventeen years old and had broken nearly every bone in both of my hands. (He looks at his hands) As hard as I tried, I never did anything good. Never put these hands to good use. (He throws a few punches.)