Death Clutch - Brock Lesnar [26]
What I didn’t consider was that I was going to be working with Kurt for fifteen to eighteen minutes, and I was probably going to be dead tired and pouring sweat by the time we got around to the finish of the match.
That night, Kurt and I put on the best show possible considering the circumstances. We had a really physical match, which wasn’t easy when you think about how injured he was. It finally came time to hit the Shooting Star Press, but Kurt and I had been throwing each other off the ropes and working the corners all night long. When I grabbed the top rope to boost myself up, it was all wet. Not good. As I climbed up, I was dripping even more sweat onto the ropes, but I wasn’t thinking about that. Everyone at Safeco Field in Seattle knew what was coming, and they were all screaming for me to hit the move, and beat Kurt Angle for the championship.
There I stood, on the top rope, both arms raised in triumph, my head back, letting the crowd take it all in . . . and then I launched the Shooting Star Press.
Every wrestling fan knows what happened next. My boot slipped off the wet rope, I under-rotated, crashed in spectacular fashion, and gave myself a massive concussion. I damn near broke my neck. I still had enough sense left to know that I had to win, but I don’t remember finishing the match. I did finish, which meant I was the champion again, but I sure don’t remember it. Not at all.
Can you imagine if I had knocked myself out . . . if that “missed move” had become the finish?
The next morning, I was supposed to do a sponsor appearance, but I couldn’t get out of my hotel bed. After I received a few phone calls to rouse me, I finally crawled out and made it down to the appearance. When the sponsor’s people saw me throwing up from the aftereffects of the concussion, they sent me back to the hotel.
After you play in the Super Bowl or the World Series, you get some time to yourself, or to take your family on a vacation. Not in pro wrestling. You’re right back to work the very next day, doing live TV for Raw the first night, or taping SmackDown! two nights after WrestleMania. Kurt made it through the match, and I was lucky to “only” have suffered a concussion. Kurt went in for the alternative surgery, and I was right back on the road as WWE Champion for the second time.
STARTING YEAR TWO
My first year on the main roster in WWE was a blur. My second year was even worse. I was running into the grind. Same routine every day, day in and day out. The money was great, and I was buying a lot of nice things, but I had no time to enjoy any of it. That touring schedule just eats you up. I just kept thinking that there has to be a better way to make some real money.
The one good thing—okay, great thing—that came out of my second year was that I got to meet my future wife, Rena.
I think it’s pretty common knowledge that I’m a very private man, and there’s a reason for that. When I’m on the job, in the ring, at the arena, I’m there to entertain you. I understand that. You paid to see me, and I owe it to you to make sure your money was well spent.
But when I’m not on the job, I don’t think I owe anything to anybody. If you’re a plumber, and you’re out to dinner with your family, would you like it if the waiter walked up and said, “Hey, the toilet just backed up, can you come in the back and fix it?” Probably not. You are there to eat, not to fish tampons out of the drain pipe.
When I’m enjoying some time with my family, I’m not at work. I’m not “on.” I’m not there to entertain anyone. I’m a husband and a father. I’m Daddy. That’s who I am, and all I want to be. So if some jackass wants to pose for pictures with me, it really burns my ass because he isn’t just imposing on me, he is imposing on my wife and my children, too.
I think everyone should have a right to privacy. Certainly, my family has a