Undisputed_ How to Become the World Champion in 1,372 Easy Steps - Chris Jericho [84]
We rolled back into the ring and continued, and by the time we finished our chain of false finishes, the educated Japanese fans were on the edge of their seats, knowing they had witnessed a classic.
The match ended when I rolled him up and put my feet on the ropes for extra leverage. The fans booed politely at first because they knew they were supposed to, but after the announcements had been made they gave us a standing ovation. They were such an amazing crowd that they deserved an encore. Rock grabbed the mic and started into one of his famous post-match speeches.
“You know, The Rock lost a hard-fought match, but The Rock isn’t sad. As a matter of fact, The Rock is very hungry and is excited to go and eat the best yaku niku in Tokyo!” The crowd went crazy, hanging on his every word. “After that The Rock is going to have some dessert. He has a sweet tooth and he likes many different desserts, but by far The Rock’s favorite is … pie.”
They all knew where he was going and ate up his words, with chopsticks.
“And The Rock has tasted pie from all over the world—but he has never tried Japanese pie.” Thousands of Japanese girls wet their American designer jeans at the thought.
“Now, Chris Jericho, you won your match tonight and I know you must be quite hungry as well. Do you like pie?”
This was my cue to feed Rocky’s lines, the same way I fed his moves. “I hate pie. I would never eat pie, especially Japanese pie!”
Rock raised his famous eyebrow. “You don’t like pie? What is wrong with you, Jericho?”
“There’s nothing wrong with me, I just don’t like pie!”
“Well, do you like … strudel?” The Rock inquired.
“As a matter of fact, Rock, I love strudel! Strudel is the tastiest treat in the world and I love stuffing as much of it in my mouth as I can. If I could eat strudel every day, I would!”
Now the fans were catcalling me over my choice of pastries. I put my mic down and whispered to Rocky under my breath, “Call me Okama.”
“Call you what … Osama?”
“No … Okama,” I said as 18,000 people wondered what kind of horrible trash we were talking to each other.
“What does that mean?”
“It means gay,” I whispered under my breath. “Trust me.”
Rock gave me a nod, lifted the mic back to his mouth, and asked, “So you like strudel, huh? Does that mean that you’re … okama?”
The crowd detonated and you would have thought that Buddha himself had waddled into the arena handing out Pocky. They went hamatteru, chanting, “O-kama! O-kama!”
I marched around the ring defiantly with a frown, acting as if I had no idea what they were saying. My line got The Rock more over than he already was, never mind that all the respect I’d accrued during my years in Japan had been deleted in about ten seconds. Despite all of the great matches I had in this country, I’d never live down the night Rocky called me gay in Japanese, a point illustrated by the headline on the front page of Tokyo Sports the next day: “The Rock Calls Jericho Okama !”
It was worth it.
I mean, how often do you beat one of the biggest stars in wrestling history, retain the world title, get verbally insulted, have your sexuality questioned, and get Rock Bottomed all in one night?
Later on, I was celebrating a job well done at the Hard Rock Café in Roppongi when I received a call from Muta. He laughingly told me that I “gave him a nice Idaho potato,” which is a term