A Lion's Tale_ Around the World in Spandex - Chris Jericho [155]
Eric heard rumors and asked me, “I heard you dated that Nitro Girl with the nice rack.”
That pretty much described all of them, and I didn’t know what to say. I was afraid I’d get her (or even worse myself) in trouble.
Awkward silence.
“If you tell me you banged her I’ll give you a raise,” he offered, still awaiting my answer.
Uncomfortable awkward silence.
I came back with the same line he gave me when I’d asked him who the third member of the nWo was in the CNN Center a year and a half earlier.
“Eric, if I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
He flashed his award-winning John Davidson smile and walked away muttering, “If you did, you’re my hero.”
I wasn’t his hero, and I still didn’t get a push.
CHAPTER 49
CRUISERWEIGHT PURGATORY
Eddy Guerrero and I were in the same boat in WCW. We both had good heat and could produce a good match with almost anyone in the company but we still couldn’t break into the next level. We also traveled together a lot even though we were usually at odds. When it was my turn to rent the car it was always too small. When it was his turn to rent the hotel room it was always run-down. He needed the TV on to sleep, I needed it off. We drank a lot to stay sane and would end up arguing or rolling around on the floor of a Denny’s somewhere over a leftover scrap of steak.
But for the most part we got along really well. We both liked Rush and watching movies in our hotel room on days off. Romy and Michelle’s High School Reunion was our favorite. Got a problem with that? Stop laughing then.
In the political quagmire of WCW, we could trust each other and be ourselves with one another. Once we were driving through the wooded hills of Pennsylvania and when I glanced over to the passenger seat, Eddy was looking back at me with a goofy smile on his face and a plastic water bottle cap stuck in his eye like a monocle. It’s one of my favorite memories of him, because that was the real Eddy before the weight of the world dragged him down.
We thought it would be a great idea for us to form a tag team and one week we found out we’d been booked as one. It wasn’t supposed to be more than a one-shot deal, but we instantly clicked. We were almost a modern-day Gringos Locos (Eddy and Art’s team in Mexico) because what I didn’t have, Eddy did and vice versa.
We had extensive debates over our team name but we could never agree. I liked Bro, he liked Manzier.
I thought North and South of the Border was perfect as I was from Canada and he was from Mexico. He liked Eh and Wey, a combination of Canadian and Mexican slang words. But we really should’ve been called the Greatest Tag Team That Barely Ever Was.
We worked together every week for a month and stole the show every time. We were both kick-ass heels and complete cowards at the same time. After meticulously picking apart our adversaries, as soon as the tables were turned, we’d run into each other’s arms and hug to a chorus of boos.
Our chemistry was so far off the charts that Ray Charles could’ve seen that we were championship material and a moneymaking act. But WCW was run by a team of Helen Kellers and we were broken up, never to be paired together again.
Eddy and I had made the cardinal mistake of getting over, which was a punishable offense for most of the roster in WCW. It seemed that some people didn’t like the fact that we were making heads turn, so they simply chopped off our heads instead.
Our clique at that point included Eddy, Dean, Chris, Brian Hildebrand, Chavito, and me. We had some great times, the best of which went down at a biker rally in Sturgis, South Dakota.
Eric was an avid motorcycle rider and every year he booked the Road Wild PPV from the world-famous rally. The atmosphere was rotten because the bikers didn’t give a shit about watching wrestling and most of them didn’t even get off their bikes