A Lion's Tale_ Around the World in Spandex - Chris Jericho [17]
“Yeah, I guess I see what you mean about the lesser guys, but the champions are really the best, right? I mean, they really win their matches.”
He looked me dead in the eye and said, “No, the champions are just like everyone else. They win when they’re told to win and lose when they’re told to lose.”
That was a hard one for me to fathom. The idea that when Hulk Hogan won a title it was actually given to him by the promoter didn’t compute. I was crestfallen. He explained that there really weren’t good guys or bad guys, just guys playing the parts that the promoter decided on. The way that Wallass and I had put together the BTWF was the way the business actually worked. I couldn’t believe how smart we’d been, yet how inadvertently stupid we’d been at the same time not to realize it sooner.
Shortly after my talk with Catfish Charlie, I was setting up the ring with Broda. “I hear you want to be a wrestler? Do you want me to show you how it’s done?”
This was what I’d been waiting for and I said yes instantly.
Broda picked me up before I knew what was going on and body-slammed me. Surprisingly the slam didn’t kill me and as I applauded myself for not crying, I looked up from the mat and saw him climbing to the top rope wearing these ridiculous black rubber boots that he always wore. He must’ve seen the worried look on my face as he looked down because he said, “The most important thing in wrestling is trust. Either you trust me, or you don’t. And if you don’t trust me, go home now.”
This was the moment of truth. The time to put up or shut up...shit or get off the pot...a penny saved is a penny earned...well you get the idea.
I could get up and leave my dreams on the mat to get crushed by the Caveman or I could stay down and leave my skull on the mat to get crushed by the Caveman. Either way the result would end my wrestling career for good. I thought about closing my eyes but before I could, Broda jumped off the top rope. I saw his crazy hair swaying to and fro. I saw his rubber boots flopping in the air. And I saw his knee start small and slowly grow bigger until it enveloped my whole field of vision like Godzilla’s foot. At the last parsec I closed my eyes and awaited Jesus to take me home. Except he didn’t. Even though I’d never heard of Caveman Broda and had never seen him wrestle, he had just given me a textbook knee drop from the top rope and I hadn’t felt a thing.
Using Broda as an example, I started gaining confidence that I could learn the art of pro wrestling and make a go out of it. My confidence was boosted even further because, Catfish Charlie aside, I looked more like a wrestler than most of the other miscreants on the tour. On top of that, some of the BTWF matches that Wallass and I had in the Westwood Collegiate gym were better executed and more convincing than the ones these guys were having.
Besides the Baron, none of these guys had any kind of unique personalities or interesting gimmicks that would capture the fans’ imaginations. I had already begun thinking about the gimmicks that I could use when I started wrestling. My first idea was to be a Christian wrestler named Christian Chris Irvine, who would stand up for what’s right and be a role model for all. I would throw Bibles into the crowd on my way to the ring and would wear yellow and black tights just like the biggest Christian metal band Stryper did. Granted it wasn’t exactly the Undertaker, but it was a hell of a lot better than Prettyfer.
I also studied the Baron’s matches. He was the most popular wrestler on the tour and the