Undisputed_ How to Become the World Champion in 1,372 Easy Steps - Chris Jericho [110]
Now I’m anxiously awaiting the first ever WWE Pin the Tail on the Donkey derby.
The Winnipeg faithful weren’t just proud of my musical chairs accomplishments, they took great pride in all that I had done. It wasn’t too often that a kid from St. James became an international superstar, and now that Raw was in town, the city was ready to roll out the red carpet for me. The day of the show I was given the key to the city by Mayor Sam Katz, which I think means that I’m allowed to walk into any house or place of business within the city limits of Winnipeg and make myself at home. Drink a beer, eat some soup, take a dumpski, whatever I want. I’m still waiting for the actual key, though.
After that, Gary Doer, the premier of Manitoba, awarded me with the Order of the Buffalo Hunt, which was the province’s highest honor. It was quite the prestigious prize, which had been given to such dignitaries as Mother Teresa, Desmond Tutu, Jimmy Carter, Pope John Paul II, and now Chris Jericho. Which one of these people doesn’t belong, huh?
Obviously it’s the pope, that son of a bitch.
There was a WWE camera crew filming the presentations for the various syndicated TV shows and the website. When I saw Vince at the building, I suggested that we show some of the ceremony on Raw, and he started laughing.
“The Order of the Buffalo Hunt? That’s a pretty dumb name. Sounds like something Fred Flintstone would get.”
Then I informed him of the impressive list of VIPs with whom I shared the award and he begrudgingly agreed to mention it.
A few months later, Vince decided that if a babyface was billed as being from Canada, it would impede his popularity in the United States. Despite the fact that I’d been announced as being from Winnipeg for the past five years and everyone knew I was Canadian, I was suddenly being introduced “from Tampa, Florida.”
Manitoba premier Gary Doer presents me with the Order of the Buffalo Hunt, along with a tiny bronze buffalo. I’m thinking, “That’s all I get?”
It drove me nuts, because even though I live in Tampa and it’s a nice city, it’s not where I grew up. Vince finally compromised and I was introduced “from Manhasset, New York,” which is where I was born when my dad was playing for the Rangers. But I am no more a New Yorker than Funaki is a Texan. I didn’t understand Vince’s logic; I believe you could be billed from Timbuktu and people will still cheer for you if you’re good. But he’s the boss and they’re his rules.
However, just for the record, I’m from Winnipeg. Always have been, always will be. If you wanna discuss further, I’ll meet you at the Salisbury House on the corner of Portage and Main and we can head over to Kern-Hill Furniture beside Eaton Place and buy a Hunky Bill pierogi maker to feed everyone at the Monterey social.
At SummerSlam 2004 in Toronto, I faced Batista and Edge in a three-way match for the Intercontinental Championship. I couldn’t seem to break out of the middle of the pack, and it was starting to affect my attitude about the business. Holding the world title was addictive, and like Seinfeld said about air travel, once you fly first class, it’s hard to go back to coach. But I was stuck in middle-seat smoking and it was starting to really frustrate me.
Adding to my dilemma was that even though SummerSlam turned out okay, I wasn’t booked on Raw the next day in Kitchener, Ontario. No match, no run-in, no promo, no musical chairs—nothing. It felt like 1999 again when I wasn’t booked for the No Mercy PPV in Cleveland. I didn’t feel that there was enough talent on the roster to where they could afford to leave me off, and it really bothered me.
I instantly went on a manhunt for the boss, and when I found him I got straight to the point.
“Vince, I just heard I wasn’t on the show tonight and