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After a few hours of Patrón and Grey Goose (alas, no Nightrain) I stumbled over to Axl, who threw his arm around me and smiled his mischievous grin.

“You know what?” he said. “I had a really good time with you guys tonight. It’s pretty rare that I get to talk about music and just be a fan without having to worry about all the bullshit. Thanks for hanging out with me.”

Thanks for hanging out with you? Thanks for hanging out with me, spacebrain!

And by the way Axl, I thought Chinese Democracy was genius.

CHAPTER 46

Benoit

In the two years I stayed away from wrestling, I literally stayed away. I didn’t watch the shows or read the Internet for results. I became a casual fan who paid slight attention to what was going on, and that was about it. I got a few phone calls from Brian Gewirtz asking if I’d do a one-shot deal here and there, most notably as John Cena’s surprise guest tag team partner for a Raw at the Meadowlands in New Jersey, but I politely declined. You’re either in or you’re out, and if you’re not in then you must be out (Hurricane™) and I didn’t want to be one of those guys who would show up every once in a while. But slowly I started to feel the wrestling fire kindling inside me again, and I can attribute that to two factors.

The first was that I had just finished writing my book (the critically acclaimed A Lion’s Tale in case you’ve forgotten), and the experience of reliving my entire career in such detail made me realize how fortunate I’d been to live my dream and have so many tremendous adventures along the way. The book also made me remember that I was pretty damn good at what I did, and I started thinking what it would be like to return.

As a result, I started doing autograph signings to get a feel for what the fans were thinking and whether they wanted me to come back. While I enjoyed doing them it was also a little depressing. The final straw was when I did a signing in Long Island that was about as well attended as the one Randy the Ram did with the guy with the colostomy bag. Looking around at all the old-timers clinging on to the business, hoping for one last break, really got to me.

What was I doing here? I was thirty-six years old, not fifty-six, and if I was going to be doing something involving wrestling, it should be in the big leagues.

The second and most important factor was when I watched Cena and Michaels wrestle for a full hour on Raw. It was an amazing performance that showcased the true art of the business; a business that I’d once been a part of and wanted to be a part of again.

The match excited, intrigued, and quite frankly annoyed me. After having great matches with both guys in the past, I was jealous that I wasn’t involved, and watching it made me antsy.

After it was over I knew it was time to come back. It was time for Chris Jericho to return to the WWE.

But there was another factor that cemented my decision to come back. If Cena and Michaels had just showcased the best of wrestling, the man whom I considered to be my best friend in the business was about to showcase the worst—almost destroying the entire industry in the process.

I hadn’t seen Chris Benoit since the day of Eddy’s funeral. He had been devastated, and even though we promised we would keep in better touch, that became increasingly more difficult, due to the fact that Chris would simply drop off the grid for weeks at a time. I called him the Loch Ness Monster because he would surface for a short period, then submerge himself again shortly afterwards and be impossible to find. Sometimes I’d miss his call and get back to him literally minutes later, but he wouldn’t answer and I wouldn’t hear from him again for weeks.

But as hard as he was to get on the phone, he would always return emails and texts. So that became our main mode of communication to keep in touch, stay up to date, and send each other pictures of our kids. Chris was always interested in how my children were doing and asked about them frequently.