Undisputed_ How to Become the World Champion in 1,372 Easy Steps - Chris Jericho [69]
We were slated to perform on Raw at the Scope in Norfolk to promote Happenstance. I was in the middle of a feud with Ric Flair and had attacked and bloodied him earlier in the show. Flair was God in that part of the country, so my actions didn’t exactly endear me to the thousands of people in the arena.
As soon as the stagehands began setting up our equipment during commercial break, the crowd began to boo. Bud was standing next to me in Gorilla with a morose look on his face.
“I’ve been waiting my whole life to play arenas. Now I’m getting booed,” he kept saying over and over. Getting jeered was a way of life for me, and normally I considered it a compliment, but not in this case. Vince smiled at me and said, “This is gonna be huge for your record sales.” Unfortunately, it wasn’t, as Happenstance sold less than Fozzy. People still weren’t sure if we were a legitimate band to be revered or a joke to be booed, and the fact that we were still wearing wigs didn’t help either.
When we got our cue, we ran onto the huge stage and launched into “To Kill a Stranger,” a new original song that kicked off the album. Despite our energy and my over-the-top efforts to get the crowd into it, nobody did. I wanted them to hate me, then like me, then hate me. All in the same night. It was like TNA booking.
After we finished playing our first song, I asked the crowd if they wanted to hear more Fozzy and they booed me out of the building. Then Flair came out battered and covered in blood and the crowd erupted into the cheers I’d been pandering for.
Flair was a madman as he tore apart our gear, smashed up the drums, and chased me down the ramp with one of Rich’s guitars. He whipped it at me and it bounced off one of the ringposts, smashing it into a dozen pieces. After the show, our bass player Watty got Flair to sign a piece of the broken guitar as a souvenir.
He should have got him to sign a piece of my broken ego while he was at it, ’cos the whole performance was a disaster.
Not only were we panned live, but we didn’t fare too much better on TV either. It’s hard enough to sound good when you play live on TV because the sound gets compressed into the small TV speakers and sludges it up. To combat this, Rich had spent a lot of time with the WWE soundman to make sure our mix was as perfect as possible during soundcheck. But right before we went on, the Kidd decided that his guitar wasn’t loud enough and turned up his amp. Therefore all you could hear during our performance was his guitar. The drums were buried, Rich’s solo was nonexistent, and my vocals were dry and raw (of course they were). Worst of all I sang like shit, which didn’t help us either.
By the time Flair came onstage, it was a mercy kill, not an interruption.
CHAPTER 20
Rock and Roll Is a Dangerous Game
Because of my day job with the WWE, Fozzy couldn’t do any substantial touring, so in order to play as many gigs as possible, we would book gigs directly after WWE shows. It was quite taxing on me physically and mentally, as I would work my match (trying not to scream too much to avoid messing up my voice), then drive straight to the Fozzy concert. Sometimes the crowds would be good. Other times, not so much.
One high point of that tour came when we played Winnipeg. The Peg isn’t just a great wrestling town, it’s a great rock and roll town too, and the place was packed. I went straight from the matches and changed into my rock clothes along the way. I arrived just as the show started and I could hear the crowd going nuts as soon as I rushed into the backstage area.
I hadn’t soundchecked with the band, and as our entrance music hit, I ran across the stage for the first time. I spotted a little balcony at the side and thought it would be an exciting start to the show if I leaped off the stage