A Lion's Tale_ Around the World in Spandex - Chris Jericho [102]
But I had one more trick up my choker before the master plan was complete. My coup de grâce was to use an X song for Sudden Impact’s ring music. I knew that the fans would go wild when they realized that a couple of gaijins were down enough to enter the ring to a song by Japan’s biggest band!
The only thing that stood in the way of my return was the complete indifference to it. The FMW office employees were cordial, but hardly ecstatic, and both the Japanese and foreign wrestlers seemed like they couldn’t have cared less. The true indication that nobody gave a damn about us came when we had to walk through the concourse of the stadium to go over the match with our opponents. During the five-minute walk through the crowded corridors, not one person gave us more than a cursory glance even though we were wearing full wrestling regalia—and these were wrestling fans that bought tickets to see the show!
When we went over the match, the most important thing we were asked to do was break up the pin when their top young star Eiji Ezaki (who became the masked Hayabusa and ironically ended up paralyzed years later after landing on his head attempting a Lionsault) did a moonsault. The extended back flip from the top rope into a pin is one of the most overused moves in the business today, but in 1992 it was rare to see one performed. Freeze and I agreed to protect Ezaki’s big move and the four of us put together what I was convinced was going to be a classic match. There was no question that the fans and the media would have no choice but to take notice of me.
X’s “Silent Jealousy” blasted out of the stadium speakers as Sudden Impact ran down the long stadium ramp to the ring. I climbed to the second rope and screamed, “KAETTE-KITA-ZO!” I might as well have said, “I’M A WANNABE AND TRYING WAY TOO HARD!”
The match itself should’ve been canceled due to lack of interest. There was deathly silence as we robotically ran through a preplanned match that was devoid of any meaning or storytelling whatsoever.
Finally, Ezaki set himself up and gave me the big moonsault. He hit it perfectly and the fans finally showed some life, reacting with amazement. Unfortunately, so did Freeze.
He seemed so mesmerized by the image of himself on the stadium JumboTron, he didn’t make the save. He was so into watching the match that he forgot he was actually a part of it. At least somebody was enjoying it.
We won the match, but the five-star classic I’d been hoping for was as nonexistent as Freeze’s moonsault save.
Afterward when I was changing out of my gear in the dressing room, an old-timer named John Tolos asked if he could borrow my boots for his match. “I don’t have boots anymore. Why do I need boots? I’ll just borrow yours.” I guess that’s the difference between a greenhorn and a seasoned veteran. I’d had an entire new outfit made for the show and he didn’t even have fuckin’ wrestling boots. I’m sure he also made ten times more for his match than the $800 I made for mine.
Onita was infatuated with having boxers and martial artists on his shows (remember, FMW stood for Frontier Martial Arts Wrestling). He’d paid big money to bring Leon Spinks, the former heavyweight boxing champion of the world, over for the show that night. The idea was for Leon to use his boxing skills against the wrestlers but when they told him to pull his punches so he wouldn’t kill anyone, Leon couldn’t grasp the concept.
“You mean when I give a punch, it’s not a hard punch but the guy falls down anyway? That’s so funny,” he said in his slurred punch-drunk speech.
Leon didn’t last long, as he was constantly smiling and laughing during his matches. If boxing is fixed, Spinks sure as hell didn’t know because he definitely didn’t understand