Undisputed_ How to Become the World Champion in 1,372 Easy Steps - Chris Jericho [13]
Pat helped me realize that I wasn’t as good as I thought I was—but that I could be. He saw the same thing in me that I did: the desire to be the best and the drive and talent to get there. From then on, I listened to everything he told me and tried to pattern my thought processes after his. I hung on his every word and studied each of his principles. We watched my matches together and I took notes as he critiqued my performance while I carried him on my back in a little sling through the swamps of Dagobah.
Pat explained to me that it was the little details that made a good worker into a great worker: timing, listening to the crowd, giving them what they want—or don’t want. You had to have a crispness with everything you did in the ring. At the time, when I threw someone off the ropes, I wasn’t following through with my arms or putting enough effort into it. Pat pulled me aside and told me that the way I was doing it looked bad and explained the right way to do it. To this day, I still see his face whenever I push a guy off the ropes.
Another agent who helped me develop into a legitimate WWE star was Blackjack Lanza, a retired wrestler in his sixties, whose autograph my dad got for me in 1978. He was very blunt in his criticisms that he delivered while chain-smoking, which meant that you usually got a lungful whenever he spoke. My matches were so bad at the time, I’m surprised I didn’t get cancer from all the secondhand smoke I inhaled during the nonstop criticism he gave me.
But it was easy to wind Jack up during the shows, and the boys would always pull different tricks on him to get him going.
Once in Miami, Mick Foley (who has never beaten me in a wrestling match) walked through the curtain on his way to the ring and said, “Watch how Lanza reacts to this!” He grabbed the mic and told 15,000 fans how he was at the beach that day and a fan ran up to him with a copy of Have a Nice Day (available at fine bookstores near you). But before he was able to get it signed, he slipped in a puddle of suntan lotion that Mick had carelessly left on the beach. The guy fell down hard and threw his back out. As he was lying there writhing in pain, he looked up and said, “Mick, I can’t make it to the show tonight.” Mick was devastated and told him, “I’m so sorry you can’t make it, is there anything I can do?” The guy said, “Yes, Mick—win one for the Slipper.”
My gorgeous wife with her second favorite wrestler backstage at Wrestlemania 2000. By the way, Foley has never beaten her or any other member of the Jericho family in a wrestling match.
Seven of the 15,000 people chuckled as the rest of them sat in silent indifference. Lanza threw his cigarette to the ground in disgust and screamed, “What the fuck is he doing??”
When Mick came through the curtain I told him about Jack’s reaction, to which Mick responded with a big grin: “Yes! Victory!”
Boring and confusing 15,000 people was worth it to piss off Lanza.
Ever since Mick helped me get into ECW, he had always kept an eye on me, and during those tumultuous first months in the WWE he was one of the few guys who tried to help me. Mick and I wrestled each other in St. Louis right around the time that Have a Nice Day was released. The finish of the match saw me hitting him over his head with his own book, knocking him out, and allowing me to get the 1-2-3. (Yet another Jericho win over Foley.)
Afterwards he told me, “I don’t mind if you kick and punch me as hard as you can, but you might not want to be that solid with the other guys,