No is a Four-Letter Word

by Chris Jericho

  A cameraman? Did he think I worked for TMZ or some shit? I stood there trying to think of another witty response, but before I could stammer anything out, Paul cut me off.

  “Listen, man, if I need any help with the ninjas or anybody else, I’ll let you know, okay mate?”

  He gave me a thumbs-up and turned away. I was happy he remembered my ninja comment, but I smelled what he was cooking. He was friendly with his tone, but his overall message was “You’re starting to creep me out, dude, so please leave me alone.”

  I don’t blame him for feeling a weird vibe about me . . . after all, I had just hid in a toilet stall so I could ambush his late best friend’s wife.

  CHAPTER 10

  THE

  TWELFTH

  NINJA

  PRINCIPLE

  ENJOY THE MOMENT

  I know I know for sure,

  that life is beautiful around the world . . .

  —RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS, “AROUND THE WORLD”

  (Flea, Frusciante, Kiedis, Smith)

  When Vanilla Ice guested on Talk Is Jericho, I found him to be a friendly, humble, and inspiring guy who realized it was an honor to be able to survive and prosper in show business for over twenty-five years. After years of being embarrassed by the monster success of “Ice Ice Baby,” he had recently embraced it and as a result, was enjoying a massive resurgence both as a musician and as a TV star after he REINVENTED (see chapter 20) himself as a home renovation expert. We had a great chat in one of the homes he had fixed up for The Vanilla Ice Project, his home improvement show on the DIY Network, and during our interview he passed on a great piece of advice from an eighty-five-year-old friend of his, whom he’d nicknamed “The Twelfth Ninja.”

  “Slow down, don’t stress, and enjoy what you have. Because in the end, you’re gonna end up old just like me anyway.”

  That wise ninja was right.

  I find that life moves so fast, with so much going on at all times that it’s easy to forget to enjoy the fruits of your labors and savor the successes along the way. The problem with being on a Fozzy tour or working a full WWE schedule is that there’s always another match or concert just a few hundred miles down the road, so one tends to bleed into the other. But that’s no excuse not to take a moment for yourself to enjoy the experience . . . to drink it in, maaan.

  Around 2002, right as The Rock left the WWE to become a worldwide movie star, he told me, “Appreciate every match you have. At some point, it’s going to be your last one and you won’t believe how fast it’s all gone. Take a moment for yourself and take a look at the crowd. Enjoy their reactions. Because when it’s time for it to end, you’re going to miss it. I know I already do.”

  I took his advice and always take a few seconds after a match to stand at the top of the stage and experience the moment, because I don’t know when I’ll be back in that city again.

  It’s like Ferris Bueller said, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

  Truer words were never spoken.

  I encourage everyone reading to listen to the Sausage King of Chicago and take a look around sometimes. It sounds a little clichéd, but I’m telling you there is some truth here: live in the moment, smell the metaphorical roses, and don’t just rush on to the next appointment or goal in your life. This is even truer after a victory or a success. Don’t forget to acknowledge all the hard work you’ve put in, or more importantly, the people who’ve helped you along the way, especially your family.

  I couldn’t have accomplished all the things I have without the support of my incredible and beautiful wife, Jessica. She’s my rock and supports me through all the ups and downs of my career and my life. Every success I have is a shared victory, and without her love and advice I wouldn’t be as driven or as bold with my decisions. I also have three amazing children who are my raison d’être and drive me to be the best that I can be in whatever I do. It’s a huge sacrifice to be away from Ash, Cheyenne, and Sierra for weeks at a time sometimes, so if I am going to pay that stiff price, I won’t accept anything less than performing at my absolute best when I’m on the road . . . I owe that to them and their love pulls me through.

  But when all of the hard work causes everything to line up and you hit the jackpot, it makes all of the sacrifices worthwhile. That’s why you owe it to yourself to count those proverbial tokens coming out of the machine, listen to the jingling sounds they make as they fill up that plastic cup, and savor the thrill of your victories.

  After every performance, I’m always the last guy in the dressing room, as I like to sit there and reflect upon the night. The late Roddy Piper once told me that being a main eventer was the loneliest position in the company because by the time you’ve finished your match and get back to the dressing room, everybody else is gone. He was right, but I never had a problem being by myself after the show. I like relaxing and analyzing that night’s performance while listening to tunes, changing out of my sweaty clothes, and having a drink. One of my favorite things to do after Fozzy gigs is to hang around with our drummer, Frank Fontsere, and talk about music and life. Make sure to take that time to celebrate your success. You work too hard not to!

  In 2016, we had the biggest WrestleMania of all time in front of over a hundred thousand people at AT&T Stadium in Arlington, Texas. Now, I’ve worked over a dozen stadium shows in my career, but I never take it for granted when I have the honor of performing in such a giant venue in front of a massive, enthused crowd. So a few hours before the show began, I made my customary pilgrimage to the top of the massive WrestleMania stage and wandered back and forth from one side of the gargantuan structure to the other, surveying the thousands of empty seats in front of me. It was a kind of WrestleMania tradition for me, as it helped clear my head and gave me the chance to reflect on how much I’d been through on my way back to that grand stage.

  As I was drinking it in before Mania 32, I saw Vince walk onstage to survey the Brobdingnagian box of Booty-O’s that was to be the centerpiece of The New Day’s entrance. They were rehearsing the tipping of the box where random Booty-O’s would scatter across the stage, revealing the hugely popular trio.

  I walked over to Vince and said, “Wow, the biggest Wrestle-Mania of all time, eh?”

  “It’s incredible, right?” he answered. “Over a hundred thousand people will be here in just a few hours.”

  I smiled and said, “You’ve come a long way since New Haven, kid.”

  Vince grinned and swatted me away with his rundown sheet, laughing at the fact that I knew New Haven was the first arena his father had allowed him to promote in the mid-’70s. As I walked back down the ramp, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Vince looking out at the empty stadium with a satisfied look on his face. There was no doubt in my mind that he was enjoying the moment, and that made me happy.

  WrestleMania is a once-a-year milestone that’s revered by everyone in the WWE, and the biggest show of the year for the company. It’s very special to me as well, but there’s another annual occasion that personally is more important, and that’s October 2, the date of my very first match in 1990. You need to appreciate those personal milestones in your own life, and I have honored this one since October 2, 1995, my fifth anniversary in the wrestling business. I was on tour for WAR in Japan with Los Brazos, a trio of luchador brothers I’d met while working in Mexico, and when they found out that my debut match was exactly five years earlier, they bought me a cake to celebrate.

  “Don’t ever forget these special days, my friend. Every year that you continue to do what you love is a blessing,” said El Brazo, the middle brother.

  I’ve never forgotten what he told me, and every year on October 2 I say a prayer thanking the Lord for allowing me to continue to do what I love to do, whether I’m currently wrestling in the WWE or not. In 2015, I was working with the company and coincidentally a Madison Square Garden date had been booked on October 3, which was exactly the twenty-fifth anniversary
(plus one day) of my first match. I decided I wanted to do something extra special to commemorate my silver anniversary on the job, and share the date with the guys who were there with me at the beginning.

  I called Lance Storm, “Dr. Luther” Lenny St. Claire, Don Callis, and Brett Como, inviting all of them to fly to New York City to hang for a couple of days and go to the show. I wanted to give them a small token of appreciation to let them know how much their friendship meant to me, both in the early days and now.

  With the exception of Como, everybody was able to make it, and from the moment we saw each other again (even though we hadn’t been in the same room together for over twenty years), it was like not a minute had passed. The true brothers you meet in the business and spend so much time with on the road are like war buddies—guys you fought with in the trenches that you have a special bond with that lasts forever. Whenever you see them, even if it’s been a long period of time, you pick up right where you left off . . . which usually means busting each other’s balls incessantly.

  Callis immediately complained that I hadn’t flown him first class, while Lenny and I slipped right into our old made-up road characters we had invented in the mid-’90s, and Lance cracked a smile . . . once.

  We went to a late-night diner to catch up, and as we were sitting around laughing, a street “artist” drew the absolute worst picture of us that you could imagine. We gave the guy ten bucks for it anyway, as we had to have the picture and couldn’t let such a hideous effort go unrewarded. The guys then presented me with a mock old-school wrestling poster featuring old promo pictures of the four of us from the early ’90s. It was the most amazing gift they could’ve given me and I loved it, although I’m not exactly sure where I put it. It’s in my house somewhere! In return, I gave them each a special “Y25J” commemorative twenty-fifth anniversary T-shirt that the WWE was selling for one night only at MSG.

  The next night at the show, WWE.com interviewed all three of them and gave them a nice rub by putting an extensive article up on the website detailing where their various careers had led them over the years. We took pictures backstage together, which was especially cool and personally significant for Lenny, who had never been to MSG before, and Don, who had made his WWE debut there as The Jackal almost twenty years prior.

  When I had mentioned my twenty-fifth anniversary plans to Vince a few months earlier, he loved the idea and insisted that the guys sit at the timekeepers’ table, but the night of the show he wanted to have them sit in the front row instead. The decision had been made to make the show a live WWE Network special, which meant time constraints on my match with Kevin Owens. But I still wanted to cut a pre-match promo and figured after twenty-five years on the job, if I wanted some time to address the crowd, I should get it. I wanted to enjoy the moment of such an important occasion (how many guys stay successful in the wrestling business for twenty-five years?) and share some of my MSG memories with some of the greatest Jerichoholics in the world.

  I started the promo by pointing up into the stands where I was sitting as a four-year-old kid when I got mad at my dad for not waving to me when he was on a breakaway as a New York Ranger. Then I pointed out my three friends in the front row and gave them each a shout out, thanking them for all they had done for me throughout my career. I told a few other anecdotes and threw out a couple Jericho classic catchphrases before finishing up, so Owens and I could start our match. The promo went long, which cut our match down to about twelve minutes, but we made the most of it and had a pretty damn good match, which of course I lost. It was the right finish, as twenty-fifth anniversary or not, I still had a responsibility to do what was best for business. But it was an amazing way to celebrate my quarter-century jubilee, and the night was just beginning.

  I had received an invite from Benjamin Steak House, one of the best in New York City, to celebrate the occasion with my pals, gratis. We had an outstanding meal and I looked like a real big shot when the check came and everything was on the house (Callis finally stopped bitching about not flying first class). Then we went back to the five-star hotel I had booked us in and recorded the “Jericho 25th Anniversary” episode of Talk Is Jericho, which ended up being one of the funniest in the show’s history. The laughs began right off the bat, when I pulled a desk back from the wall to access the electrical outlet and found a condom wrapper and a Yankees ticket stub from three years prior. Fivestar hotel indeed!

  It was the perfect starting point for ninety minutes of pure ridiculousness that ended up with Lance collapsing on the floor from a laughing fit. Storm isn’t exactly known for his chuckling skills, but he sure as hell let loose that night. He was literally rolling around on the ground, unable to stop as the tears poured from his eyes for such a long time I was able to take a dozen pictures for proof. If you haven’t heard that podcast, you need to go online and check it out. If you don’t find it funny, I’ll personally give you your money back, even though it’s free.

  As much fun as we had, my favorite part of the whole weekend was reconnecting with my old friends, who admittedly I should’ve kept in better contact with over the years. But spending those few days with my bros helped me remember how close we were and how deep our connection would always be. Now I text with all three guys almost daily and we are closer than ever. The whole twenty-fifth anniversary experience was the perfect example of taking extra measures to relish the moment, to appreciate life, and to thank lifelong friends for all they’d done along the way.

  In closing, I’ll see you all at Madison Square Garden on October 3, 2040, for the Jericho fiftieth anniversary celebration. Maybe I’ll even hold a contest to see which one of you lucky Friends of Jericho gets to wheel me to the ring.

  CHAPTER 11

  THE

  GROUNDLINGS

  PRINCIPLE

  ALWAYS COMMIT

  Who can go the distance,

  we’ll find out in the long run . . .

  —EAGLES, “THE LONG RUN”

  (Don Henley, Glenn Frey)

  I walked away from the WWE for the first time in August of 2005, because I was burned out and had no interest in working in the wrestling business anymore. It was a scary time for me, a kind of “midlife career crisis” if you wheeel, as I was uncertain of where the future was going to take me. In retrospect, taking a break from the company was the best decision I could have ever made, because those twenty-seven months away from wrestling not only gave me the chance to realize how much I wanted to be in the WWE, but they also gave me the opportunity to expand my horizons. I learned some very important additional skills during that time, which I used to become a better performer in the long run (and I ain’t talkin’ bout Joe Walsh).

  One of the main lessons I learned from working with the famed Los Angeles improv comedy troupe the Groundlings was to “always commit.” In improv, always committing means that no matter how ridiculous the situation is onstage, you give it a hundred percent to make it as real and funny to the audience as possible. If you are supposed to be a giant duck delivering pizzas to Lady Gaga and you show any hesitation with your performance, the audience can smell that from a mile away and you’ll bomb. In other words, if you don’t buy what you’re selling, why would anybody else?

  That mindset doesn’t just apply to improv, Constant Reader. It can and should be used in all aspects of your life. In the classic words of my boy Hurricane Helms, “If you ain’t in, then you must be out!”

  The idea of always committing is an offshoot of the “Believe in Yourself” mantra that we’ve been talking about throughout this entire tome, but this goes a step further: always committing also means making a promise to yourself. An oath that you’ll follow through no matter how hard things get, without compromise. It’s not easy to do, but I promise you that if you always commit, you’ll eventually get what you want.

  The biggest and most prestigious annual heavy metal festival in the world is Germany’s Wacken (pronounced “Vacken”), and Fozzy had been trying without success to get book
ed there since we started in 2000. At first I think it was because the organizers thought we were just a “novelty” band, but when we released our first all-original album, All That Remains, in 2005, they finally showed a little interest in booking us, but with a catch: they wanted me to wrestle as well.

  Every year, besides having over a hundred bands play, the Wacken festival includes carnival rides, tattooing, face painting, and . . . a live wrestling show for which the promoters wanted to book me on in exchange for using Fozzy.

  I realized early on in Fozztory that it was best for the band and myself to keep the church and state of rock ’n’ roll and wrestling separate. It was hard enough for us to gain respect as a legitimate kickass rock band in the early years solely because I was the singer. A lot of people assumed that because I was a celebrity from another field that Fozzy was just a vanity project and couldn’t possibly be any good. In some ways I don’t blame them, as there had been enough Dogstars, Wicked Worlds, and the Return of Brunos for haters to compare us to.

  But as we matured over the years, and it became apparent that we could blow a lot of other groups off the stage, I knew we had a real chance to get to the next level. I believed the best way to do that would be to keep a division between my two careers: to show people we were in this to rock the world, not to rock my ego. Therefore, I felt that if I acquiesced to Wacken’s request to work double duty, it would be the equivalent of Taylor Momsen delivering a Cindy Lou Who monologue before a Pretty Reckless set just because she was in How the Grinch Stole Christmas when she was seven.

  I told our manager, Mark Willis, to turn them down unless it was for Fozzy only. He was more than happy to do so, and we were excluded from the bill for yet another year.

  When Chasing the Grail came out in 2010, we got another offer from Wacken with a better slot on the bill and an additional five thousand dollars if I would lace up the boots and get in the ring. Now don’t get me wrong, five grand is a nice chunk of change, and way more than I would make for a WWE live event in Asheville, North Carolina, on a Sunday afternoon, but that wasn’t the point. We had told the festival organizers that Fozzy would be happy to come to Germany and kick everybody’s asses, but we weren’t interested in me wrestling as well. So once again the answer was no.