A Lion's Tale_ Around the World in Spandex - Chris Jericho [112]
My confidence level soared through the roof from working with some of the top names in Japan in the main events every night. So much of being successful in wrestling is having the confidence in knowing that your company believes in you. It gives you the inspiration to take chances during the matches and transcend into a superstar.
It was a great feeling when Tenryu shook my hand after the match one night and pressed 50,000 yen in my hand at the same time saying, “Thanks you” (not a typo). I would’ve jumped through fire for the guy because I knew he believed in me.
I became an honorary Japanese as a result of my membership in Fuyuki-Gun. Sometimes I traveled on the Japanese bus and I was the only gaijin to receive one of the black and yellow (Stryper colors!) WAR uniforms that all of the Japanese wrestlers wore. I also had to sit in silence while a half dozen guys put together a match in Japanese before stopping to ask me in English, “What you want do right here?” I had no idea what part of the match they were talking about or what would fit in that spot, so I had to guess and hope that my hip toss idea was a good one. Sometimes, they would all stop talking, look at me and burst out laughing. It’s never funny being the butt of the joke, but it’s even worse when you’re the butt that can’t understand a damn thing.
On the nights I wasn’t working with Fuyuki-Gun, I was usually booked to work with Ultimo Dragón, the man responsible for my job with WAR. I think that my rivalry with Dragón was one of the best of my career.
Our styles complemented each other perfectly and it got to the point where we could read each other’s minds during a match. One of us would say, “Spot number 2,” and we’d go through an intricate set of moves without thinking. I can honestly say that we never had a bad match. This was evident when WAR positioned us some nights in the main event, an almost unthinkable deed since the heavyweights usually worked on top.
Like in any other form of entertainment, the bigger a name you became, the better quality of girls were attained. In Japan the groupies (sometimes known as rats) would find out where the crew was staying and simply call the room. If one was in the mood to indulge, one could just invite a girl to his room like sexual room service. The only drag was that you never knew what they were going to look like until they showed up at the door. But that’s why peepholes were invented, young grasshoppers.
I got a call one evening and a female voice asked, “This is Fumi. Can I come see you?”
Curiosity killed the JeriCat and I concurred. When I looked through the peephole, I thought, “Ooh, I don’t think so.”
I didn’t answer the door, but Fumi was very persistent and kept on knocking. I still didn’t answer and a battle of wills ensued. I wasn’t gonna open the door and she wasn’t leaving until I did. So I put on my Walkman (old-school), took a Halcion, and went to sleep.
I woke up the next morning to find a letter slipped under my door.
Lion Do,
I am not a rat!! [Then why was she pounding on my door?] I never want to see you again [I’d never seen her before]. I no like you anyway. You are Mr. Bighead. You could never win in Japan again. [Was she cursing me?] I never sex with you. You are gay boy!
Fumi
PS—Call me please!
The comedy never ends...
I got another raise in pay and in responsibility, when I was asked to be the foreign liaison for WAR. My duties included helping to book other foreigners that I felt could contribute to the company’s growing success.
The first guys I thought of were my friends in Calgary. Lance was an awesome worker at this point and a no-brainer. Bret Como was brought over to be Ultimo Dragón’s evil doppelganger, Ultimate Dragon.