Title: "Late For Something"
(He is standing. Not seated — Healy doesn't do seated interviews. Backstage corridor, by the look of it. He's already taped up. Hands are working at his wrist tape as he talks, tightening it, retaping a section, tightening it again. He looks at the interviewer maybe twice in the entire promo. The rest of the time he's looking at his hands, or past the camera, at something off in the middle distance. The accent is Limerick — not performed, just present.)
Right. Yeah. Go on.
(He waits. Realises a question has already been asked. Sighs through his nose.)
Tournament. First round. Friday. I know.
Listen — I'm not going to sit here and tell you what I'm going to do to him. I don't do that. I think it's stupid. You go on the telly and you describe the beating in advance and then you have to go and deliver the exact beating you described or you look like an eejit. So I don't do it. I'll do whatever the match needs.
(Tug. Tape. Tug.)
What I will tell you is this. I came here because someone told me the standard was good. That the lads in STRIFE were the real thing. Now — I haven't seen all of them yet. I've seen some. I'm not impressed by all of it, if I'm honest. There's a lot of fellas here who look very good on the way to the ring and somewhat less good once they're in it.
I'm here to find out which is which.
(He glances at the camera for the first time. Holds it for about two seconds. Looks away.)
The bracket — eight of us, three rounds, one belt at the end of it. Fine. I'll take it. I'm not going to pretend I came all the way from Limerick to lose in the first round on a Friday night, so no, I'm not losing. But I'm also not going to stand here and tell you it's destiny or any of that. It's a draw. I got a name. I'll show up. We'll see.
(He stops fiddling with the tape. Drops his hands. This is the closest thing to a focused moment he gives the camera.)
Here's the only thing I'll say about him. About my opponent. I don't care what he is. I don't care if he's a technician, or a high flyer, or one of these lads with a whole act and a notebook and a slow walk. None of that travels. None of it survives contact. You can be the cleverest man in the building and it doesn't matter, because at some point on Friday night I'm going to get a hold of you and I'm going to hit you, and then I'm going to hit you again, and the thing about getting hit is it's very difficult to be clever while it's happening.
So. He can bring whatever he brings. I'll bring what I bring.
(He picks the wrist tape back up. Resumes working it.)
That's it. Are we done? I've things to be doing.
(He doesn't wait for the answer. Walks out of frame.)