A Lion's Tale_ Around the World in Spandex - Chris Jericho [149]
I walked around the building until I ran into Vince McMahon himself. He stood broad-shouldered and imposing like Goliath in an immaculate suit, not a hair out of place. His do was so perfect I wondered if it was a toupee. He was the most intimidating individual I’d ever met. This was the man who had engineered the entire wrestling boom and I was standing before him.
“How do you like my town?” I asked, continuing the tradition of saying stupid things upon first meetings.
He looked at me sternly and said, “I like it just fine,” and turned away. The man I’d dreamed of working for my whole life had just jobbed me out.
But I’d had enough of a taste to know without a doubt that the WWF was where I wanted to be. I placed one more call to Russo and he reiterated to call him as soon as I was legally able.
Only two more years to go.
In true Jericho fashion, I decided I was going to give it my all for those two years, so I devised a plan to get noticed and to get better. The first step was to do an interview with 1wrestling.com, challenging WCW to give me a chance and guaranteeing success if they did. I’d noticed that whenever Hall and Nash complained about something (which was often) they usually got their way and I followed their lead. The squeaky wheel most definitely gets the oil in this biz.
Second, I picked the brains of the handful of vets who seemed to give a shit about the younger guys: Arn Anderson, Ric Flair, Jimmy Hart, and Terry Taylor. Arn helped me with my matches and my selling. Flair came through with little details like how to kick out of a pin attempt with authority so that every fan in the building could see it. Jimmy complimented me on my vast array of ring costumes and pointed out that the majority of the crew wore the same gear in dark colors.
“This is show business, baby. You have to have some color and be flamboyant to stand out, darling.” Jimmy was an old hipster and could get away with calling me darling.
He also had another interesting point.
“You can always tell who is over with the fans by the signs in the crowd. We can influence them to cheer and boo for who we want, but we can’t walk into their houses and draw signs for them.” He was right and whenever I tried out a new catchphrase if it appeared on a sign over the next few shows (like Ayatollah of Rock N Rolla), I knew I had a winner. If not, it meant the phrase wasn’t going to stick (like Wocka Wocka Wocka).
Terry read my interview on the Web site and told me that I’d done the right thing. “Eric knows about it and you should go ask him for your release. I think you’ll be surprised with his answer.”
I didn’t need a release since I wasn’t under contract but I still met with Eric the next week and he cut to the chase.
“I read your little interview and I think you’re right in a lot of ways. You’re spinning your wheels and you’re doing nothing. The problem is I can’t do anything more with you right now because you don’t have the familiarity with the fans that the top guys with years of TV exposure have.”
You mean being on Winnipeg television didn’t count?
It was a bullshit theory. The Rock didn’t start off as WWF champion, but he still had feuds and angles from the moment he walked through the door, after never being on national television before.
“I think you have talent and I don’t want to lose you, so just be patient.”
Patience wasn’t one of my strong suits but I had gotten my point across and I didn’t have the guts to walk out of WCW anyway.
Next I started hanging around before every Nitro in the Box. The Box was