Undisputed_ How to Become the World Champion in 1,372 Easy Steps - Chris Jericho [97]
I was selling on the ropes, keeping one eye on Shawn to my left, when suddenly I was attacked from behind. It scared the shit out of me and I turned around like a dreamer in a Nightmare movie. But instead of Freddy Krueger unleashing the fury, it was Kane and he was more maniacal than li’l Frederick ever was. I couldn’t figure out why he was kicking the crap out of me and why Shawn was still in his pod, then I figured out what happened: the wrong pod door had opened.
What was this, Spinal Tap?
In a controlled environment, where we decided which pod opened and our referees were the ones unchaining the doors and opening them, we still managed to get it wrong. None of us in the chamber really knew what to do, because we had spent a few hours on this part of the match. Shawn was supposed to come in and clean house for five minutes until Kane’s pod opened and he came in to shut HBK down.
Now we had to call everything on the fly (with HHH still writhing in pain in the corner) and Kane was the one cleaning house— and he was a regular Molly Maid at this point.
Earlier in the day I’d discussed with Kane and Pat if someone could be thrown through the bulletproof glass of the pod. Both had vehemently shut down my idea, saying it was too dangerous and not worth taking the chance of someone getting hurt.
Fast forward to Kane throwing me over the top rope onto the steel platform of the chamber. I staggered up to my feet and said, “Throw me through the pod!”
“Fucking right I’m throwing you through the pod!” he said as if the wrong pod opening had been my fault. All concerns for my well-being blew out the cage opening when the wrong chamber opened.
Kane jerked me up to my feet and chucked me into the Plexiglas at full speed. I hit it as hard as I could and was surprised at how easy I busted through. I landed in a heap inside the pod, and shards of hardened plastic rained down on top of me. Mike Portnoy from Dream Theater was in the front row cheering me on, but I was in such pain I couldn’t even lift my head to acknowledge his existence. When I finally did, I was such a bloody mess that Mike’s face looked like he’d just had a panic attack.
The glass may have been bulletproof, but it certainly wasn’t Jerichoproof. That one hurt.
Shawn’s pod eventually opened and he ended up pinning me and HHH with his Sweet Chin Music superkick to win the match and the World Championship. The MSG faithful were genuinly happy to see Shawn win the big one after five years and were cheering their asses off for him, despite the fact he was wearing the ugliest pair of shit brown wrestling tights and sporting the worst bob haircut known to man.
On the other hand, I was currently residing in the purgatory between curtain and Gorilla, going fucking ballistic.
I couldn’t believe that at a show as big as Survivor Series, in a company as big as the WWE, in a match as big as the chamber, that something like opening the wrong door could happen. It was such a WCW-esque fuckup and I was furious.
But I knew I had to calm down before I said something stupid to Vince or executive producer Kevin Dunn. When I finally walked into Gorilla, after getting control of my temper, Vince and Kevin apologized, but they didn’t offer an explanation as to what had happened, and it was obvious they weren’t going to. I suppose they didn’t owe me one, but as a perfectionist I was pissed that things hadn’t gone the way they were supposed to. I still wonder to this day why the wrong door opened.
Gremlins, maybe?
CHAPTER 27
Stealing the Show
Three days later I was standing on the jetway in Frankfurt, Germany, waiting to get back on the plane so I could grab the Discman (these were the prehistoric days before iPods, kiddies) that I’d left in the seat pocket in front of me.
We were on our way to India for a WWE tour and I was already dreading the trip. I’d never been