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The “Highlight Reel” in Nottingham was the first time I’d worked with Eric since his big debut, and it was a blast. Eric, Steve, and I knew we could carry our weight on the mic, and we decided to do the whole thing unscripted and improvised—the way I had envisioned the Reel to be in the first place.

Stephanie was producing the segment, and it was really bothering her that we had no specific script to run past her. She kept asking us what our verbiage would be, and finally Steve said, “No offense, Steph, but between the three of us it’s safe to say we’ve made a few dollars over the years doing promos. Just trust us, we’ll come up with something.” She agreed to give us some space and we had a fantastic segment.

I was on a high as I got on the bus, and I smiled when I saw a fan through the window jumping up and down on the street, mouthing that he was my biggest fan. As we pulled away he began running beside the bus screaming, “Jericho! Jericho!” I was impressed with his foot speed and gave him the thumbs-up as he struggled to keep up with the us. He returned the gesture, smiling from ear to ear at his hero’s acknowledgment—and ran straight into a stop sign.

He went down like a ton of bricks and I saw him stagger to his feet holding his face in his hands as the bus left him in the dust. Sorry, mate.

Later that night before we left, I saw Steve and Eric drinking at the airport bar. When Bischoff got on the plane, I asked Steve, “What are you doing drinking beer with Bischoff? Isn’t he still the asshole who fired you?” Steve said, “Not at all, he’s pretty cool now actually.” Years earlier Bischoff had terminated Steve from WCW via FedEx, and I figured if he could let bygones be bygones then it was time for me to do the same.

I wasn’t sure why I still held a grudge against him anyway. Things had worked out pretty well for me after I left WCW. Besides, Eric had been nothing but froot to me since he made his debut in the WWE.

I approached him on the plane back to the U.S. and asked if I could talk to him. “Listen, man,” I said, “I hope there isn’t any heat between us from the WCW days.”

He looked genuinely surprised and said, “I don’t have any heat with you at all. As a matter of fact, didn’t you send me—like a fax or something—thanking me for everything I did for you?”

I told him I did and was happy he got it and even more impressed that he remembered. We had a few beers and that was that. The great Bischoff-Jericho feud was over faster than Spencer Pratt’s career.

Over the next few years we had some great conversations, and I found out we had a lot in common. He had overachieved his entire life because of his immense passion and drive just as I had. He might have made some bad decisions as the boss of WCW, but in the end I found him to be a pretty good guy.

Plus he created Scott Baio Is 45 and Single, and that alone is enough to earn my praise.

Kevin Nash had to get his hair cut for a role in the Punisher movie, and it was decided that I would beat him in a hair vs. hair match. It was the first time we’d ever worked together in any capacity and it was actually a lot of fun. The build for the match was strong, including me nicknaming him Nashhole. (Rocky called me and told me it was the funniest thing he’d seen on Raw in months.) Both of us were known for our manes and the fans really had no idea who was going to win, which added to the intrigue. Not adding to it was Nash’s decision to dye his hair a brutal shade of jaundice the day before the match. When he showed up at the arena in Grand Rapids, he looked like he was wearing a straw hat. When I asked him why he’d done it, he said, “Well, I thought if I dyed my hair, people would think there’s no way I’m going to lose and cut it off.”

The problem was, he dyed it such a terrible color there was no way he couldn’t cut it off.

We had a really good match, one of the best he had during his WWE comeback. We led the crowd through a heap of false finishes before I finally beat him with the dreaded brass knuckles.

Nash enjoyed working with me and wanted to continue doing