“As we open today, we must also acknowledge the contributions of our dear friend, Golden Glen Miller.”

The chorus of polite clapping came from the small group of people in front of the new Golden Memphis Public Recreation Center. The large, beautiful building loomed behind the speaker, who was standing with its principal financier, Glen Miller.

The old man, wearing his signature white suit and holding his golden cane, smiled to those in attendance. In the crowd, GGM’s grandson, Ben, looked in admiration at this grandfather.

His grandfather. His inspiration.

After his loss to Violence at Gold Rush, Ben could barely bring himself to speak to his grandfather. But, in the weeks since his disgrace, he had begun to recuperate both physically and mentally. However, he still hadn’t talked to Goldpa about the match.

Ben was ashamed.

The project executive handed a pair of large golden scissors to Glen, which he kindly took and cut the ceremonial red ribbon in front of the building. Another round of applause ensued, and the event attendees began to disperse.

After Glen shook a few hands, he leaned on his cane and made his way over to where Ben was standing.

“Well, grandson,” the old wrestler started. “I really think this place is going to do some good. The kids in this part of town don’t have many constructive ways to spend their time.”

Ben looked at the building, and then compared it to the urban environment around it.

“Goldpa,” Ben replied. “I can only hope that I can give back to the community the same way you do.”

“Ha!” his grandfather replied, smiling. “This is only possible because of how much time I have on my hands. I’m not exactly booked up with matches every other night anymore.”

Ben hesitated to reply; he knew that his grandfather was anxious to talk about Gold Rush.

“I think I’m ready now,” Ben said softly.

“Alright, then, walk and talk with me,” replied Glen, who began to make his way to the parking lot with the aid of his cane. Ben obliged and walked at the side of his Goldpa.

“I know I let you down,” Ben admitted.

“Let me down?” Glen asked, rhetorically. “You didn’t let me down, Ben. I’m incredibly proud of how far you got.”

“But I blew it! I could have easily reached up and grabbed the belt, but instead I decided to leap off the ladder for the sake of vengeance.”

Glen stopped and but his head down before shaking it slowly.

“No, Ben, you didn’t blow it and you didn’t do it for vengeance. You did what I’ve done hundreds of times; you took a stand against unchecked aggression and defended the honor of the fans… it just didn’t work out this time.”

The two continued walking toward the parked car down the sidewalk.

“Well, Goldpa,” said Ben, exhaling in relief from his grandfather’s acceptance. “I only have one option.”

“You do, now?”

“Just like you’ve always said; when you fail, work harder than ever before.”

After reaching the parked car, a well-dressed man exited the driver’s door and opened the back door for his passenger. Ben helped Glen get into the back seat.

“Your work ethic is all you can control, Ben. And it’s not going to be easy because you’ll have to get back in line for another shot at the gold.”

Ben went to shut the door for his grandfather, but Glen stopped it with his hand.

“Don’t worry, grandson, you’ll get another shot.”

Glen winked up at Ben and shut the door himself. As the car pulled away from the curb, Ben mentally recommitted himself to redeeming himself in Season 2.