Undisputed_ How to Become the World Champion in 1,372 Easy Steps - Chris Jericho [122]
As I watched the ref raise his arm and hand him the title, I felt a wave of pride wash over me. Despite Vince’s words in Kitchener, I did feel like an accomplished wrestler. I’d entered the ring with no finish and no opponent and was able to put together a pretty damn good match on the fly. Backstage all eighteen of my prospective opponents gave me a standing ovation, including Shelton, who was still in shock over his title win. Benoit came up to me, full of his trademark intensity, and said, “That was fucking great. That’s wrestling right there. Not too many people could do that. What a piece of art. Congratulations.”
It was high praise from the best wrestler in the world and a man I considered to be a mentor and one of my best friends.
CHAPTER 34
Hell of a Hand
My son Ash was born on September 24, 2003. He arrived when Jessica and I decided to induce his birth so I could be home to witness it. I worked on a Monday and flew home to attend my son’s birth on a Tuesday, and he was polite enough to wait for his dear old dad to turn up before he made his big entrance into the world.
Being a father is the most magnificent feeling in the world, and it was hard to go on the road to be away from my son, but it was my job and I had to make the sacrifice. However I’ve always made a point of being there for the important milestones, and I made sure to book off work on the day of his first birthday party.
Ash’s bash was on Saturday and I’d fly out to the live event in Springfield, Missouri, early Sunday morning. But a few days before the party, reports began circulating that Tampa was going to be hit by a serious hurricane that might shut the airport down. I took no heed, as nothing was going to make me miss my little guy’s first birthday shindig.
I was in the middle of the Blue’s Clues – themed fiesta featuring a water slide– bouncy house and seventy-five of our closest friends, when my house phone rang. I heard Howard Finkel’s distinctive voice on the machine telling me that because of the storm, the office wanted me to fly out that night. I was watching Ash smear cake all over his face and everything else in his vicinity and ignored the call. I disregarded the next three calls as well, but when the phone rang for the fifth time, I picked up and explained to Howard that I would take my chances on flying out the next morning and that was that.
Ash is a ham just like his daddy. Note his shark shirt: he’s been obsessed with sea creatures his whole life.
There’s nothing more beautiful than a mother and her child.
Except it wasn’t.
The next day I woke up to a full-fledged hurricane.
The wind was blowing so hard it looked like the palm trees in my front yard were going to snap in two. The rain was coming down in veritable sheets and the airport was indeed closed down. It was decided after much deliberation with the office that I would pick up Stacy Keibler (who had also refused to fly out the night before) and drive to Miami to catch a flight to Kansas City for Raw on Monday. Stacy and I drove through the aquatic night, risking our lives to make it to the show, but we got to Miami that night (and Kansas City the next day) safe and sound.
When I arrived at the Kemper Arena (where Owen Hart had fallen to his death years earlier), I was told that Vince and John Laurinaitis (who had replaced JR as the head of talent relations) wanted to see me in his office.
I walked in and Vince said, “It’s been brought to my attention that you missed the show yesterday. I want to know why.”
“Johnny already knows the reason why, Vince. It was my son’s first birthday party and I wasn’t going to miss it.”
Vince looked a little thrown off, as if he didn’t expect my excuse to be that legit.
“I understand that, Chris, but you still should’ve made the show. If the airport was closed, you should’ve rented a private plane.”
I could’ve rented a fleet of private