“That’s great,” Paul said. “Did you know our original name was Coverboy?”
“No! Why did you change it?”
“Because we wanted something more manly,” he said, straight-faced.
Yeah, I could see that. Forget Slayer or Five Finger Death Punch. When I picture a name dripping with testosterone, I think Loverboy.
I hadn’t seen Fitz much since the Coverboy gig, so it was great to catch up with him in Slash’s dressing room. After a few minutes, Slash was told by his tour manager that he had to leave to go to an official after-show party that had been booked by the venue.
“I don’t really want to do it. I’ll only go if Jericho comes with me.”
I was flattered by Slash’s odd request and of course agreed to go. We headed over to the Tattoo Rock Club in downtown Toronto, a venue Fozzy had played before (and where I got my Fozzy F hand tattoo), and we sat side by side in a back booth in the VIP area as the clock struck midnight.
There was a huge tub on the table in front of us, filled with all types of booze provided by the club, who obviously didn’t know that Slash had been clean and sober for years.
“Do you drink?” he asked, and when I told him I did he replied, “Good, I don’t drink anymore, but I like hanging out with people who do.”
I poured myself a Yeah Boy! and we talked about his career (his favorite guest appearance he’d done was playing with Ray Charles), his wardrobe (his top hat is the original one he bought in the ’80s and never leaves his side), and dinosaurs (he was an amateur paleontologist like me). I found him to be extremely intelligent, soft-spoken, humble, and just an all-around great guy. We had an amazing conversation amidst all the beggars and hangers-on, but as soon as the clock hit one thirty A.M. (he must have had a contract to stay for exactly ninety minutes), we were out the door. In the car on the way back to his hotel, he extended the ultimate new millennium show of friendship by following me on Twitter (you can too at @iamjericho). I asked Fitz later why Slash was insistent on having me accompany him to his appearance.
“Slash likes interesting people and he wanted to hang out with you. Besides, he really likes you.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because he talked to you without his sunglasses on.”
—
I was in Slash’s dressing room again after another successful edition of the Golden Gods headlined by Marilyn Manson. I’d never been a huge Manson fan, but to see him up close from the side of the stage, I finally got his magnetic personality. He was an amazing performer. I was mesmerized by his movements and ominous vibe . . . until he rolled on the floor and exposed his fishbelly white gut. It kind of spoiled the moment to find out that the Antichrist Superstar was actually a skinny fat guy, but overall it was a good gig.
It got better when Johnny Depp walked onstage and joined Manson on guitar for “Beautiful People.” He was a pretty good player too; he had originally moved to Hollywood to be a musician. When that didn’t work out, he decided to give the acting thing a try and I’d say it worked out pretty damn good for him.
After Depp and Manson tore the house down, I closed the show with my final words to the crowd and walked offstage. I ran into Slash and he asked if I wanted to go up to Manson’s dressing room to say hello to Depp. I had a few post-show duties to take care of and told him I’d meet him there. Ten minutes later, I walked up to Marilyn’s private dressing room, but before I could open the door, I was stopped by a mountain with eyes.
“Can I help you?”
“Yeah, Slash invited me up here to hang.”
“I understand,” he said, not budging.
“But I’m Chris Jericho! I hosted the show tonight and want to say hi to the guys.”
“I understand,” he said, staring straight ahead like a statue.
“But Slash is waiting for me in there.”
“I understand.”
“You’re saying I can’t go in?”
“You understand.”
I most certainly did and skulked away to support the Australian Aborigines like the douche I was.
The End of the World as You Know It
During my time away from the WWE, I noticed a lot of the character traits I’d created during my last run had been . . . shall we say . . . borrowed by other superstars. A lot of the heels were now talking slowly and wearing fancy suits, none more blatantly than The Miz. He’d gotten a huge push as the World Champion and had even headlined WrestleMania 2011, but it was funny hearing him talking in almost the same cadence and style as me while wearing the expensive clothes. Soon afterward was the rise of CM Punk, who had completely morphed his character into a rogue loose cannon, who said what he wanted when he wanted.
He was getting over huge and calling himself The Best in the World, which was a direct rip-off of my “The Best in the World at What I Do” catchphrase. I didn’t really care and I wasn’t around to dispute him anyway, but I started thinking . . . What if I was?
Ever since I told Vince I was doing DWTS, I’d been waiting for the right time to call him to come back. I didn’t want to return to the WWE to just be there; I wanted to have a specific story line. And I’d just found it.
Best in the World vs. Best in the World.
It was a major angle that I could really sink my teeth into, and I suspected Vince would like it as well. He was a pushover for something that was being done for the first time and boasted a catchy tagline.
It wouldn’t be the first time Punk vs. Jericho locked up. We’d wrestled dozens of times before, and we always worked well together, so I thought a heel Jericho vs. a babyface “Voice of the Voiceless” CM Punk screamed money.
Now that I’d thought of the right angle, I needed to think of the right way to be reintroduced. I was known for my grandiose intros into the company from the classic Millennium Clock countdown to the cryptic Save Us vignettes, so the challenge was to come up with something new that was more Return of the Jedi than The Exorcist: Part III.
I was listening to Art Bell, on the radio, talking about how the Mayans had predicted that the end of the world was coming in December of 2012. I started toying with the idea that when I came back to the WWE, it would be “the end of the world as you know it.”
It would be the end of the world because everything that had been going on within the company would change. It would be the end of the Jericho imitators, the end of the raping of my creativity, and the end of CM Punk as the World Champion. I thought it was a perfect topical tie-in for all the hoopla surrounding the supposed Mayan disaster coming in 2012, the same way my millennium countdown had coincided with the Y2K scare in 1999.
My plan was to return during the first Raw of 2012 and start my vignettes a month beforehand. Since it was already August of 2011, I had to move fast, so I contacted Vince’s office to set up a meeting with him at WWE headquarters in Stamford, Connecticut. I could’ve just called him with my plan, but I wanted to pitch it to him in person so he could feel the passion I had for the story and gauge his reaction face-to-face.
When I walked into Vince’s office (I’d only been there once before, in 1999), I think he was genuinely touched when he found out I’d flown up to Conneticut just to see him. After we exchanged a few pleasantries and told a few bad jokes, it was time to get down to business.
“So I hear you want Punk at WrestleMania, huh?”
I went into my pitch, running down the ideas and the timeline of what I’d come up with. I explained the whole Best in the World vs. Best in the World story line and how I wanted to make the angle personal. Much like when I had punched Shawn’s wife in the face or removed Rey’s mask, I wanted to do something so underhanded it would take our feud to a completely different level.
I wanted to tattoo him with my initials.
I could think of nothing more humiliating than being branded by another person. Getting a tattoo was such
a personal choice that having to wake up for the rest of your life with your enemy’s name carved into your skin seemed like the ultimate violation.
I thought Punk would dig the tattooing idea, and Vince seemed to like it as well. I filled him in on the vignettes I wanted to produce to herald my arrival and he nodded his head and took a few random notes. He mentioned that the Mania plan at the moment was for Punk to defend his title against Alberto Del Rio, but he was interested in my idea. However, he had a problem when I told him I only wanted to sign a six-month contract.
“Six months? Our fans will just be getting used to having you back and then you’re going to leave again?”
I explained that the new Fozzy record was coming out in the summer and we were going on tour to promote it, so there was no way I could stay any longer.
“Hmmmm. Well, the only other guy I would consider signing for a short-term deal is Shawn Michaels, but you guys are special cases. So let me think about it and get back to you.”
A few days later Vince called me and agreed to bring me back for a six-month contract and do Jericho vs. Punk at WrestleMania. It didn’t take long to figure out the terms of my deal after that, although I didn’t get everything I wanted.
He still wouldn’t budge on paying for my cars or hotels, and he didn’t want me to change my ring music. Punk had recently adopted “Cult of Personality” by Living Colour as his new theme and I wanted to follow his lead and use “Nightmare” by Avenged Sevenfold for my character’s rebirth. But Vince felt it was the wrong move.
“You’re only coming back for a short time and I don’t want to confuse people. ‘Break the Walls Down’ will be Chris Jericho’s music until the day you stop wrestling.”
We discussed my vignettes further, and much like he had with the Save Us videos, Vince decided to leave the creative decisions up to me, Kevin Dunn, and video production whiz Adam Penucci. I’d worked with Adam on both of my previous intros and considered him to be the best in the world at what he does.
We spent some time on the phone and I explained to him I wanted something creepy and bleak, something that would get across the apocalyptic tone of “the end of the world as you know it.” We threw some ideas back and forth until we figured out exactly what we wanted to do, and got to work.
The vignettes featured faded-out shots of empty fields and playgrounds and focused on an eerie little boy sitting at a desk in the middle of an empty classroom, quoting scriptures in a weird, nasally voice. Then the camera zoomed in and the kid ominously said, “It will be the end of the world as you know it.” Then IT BEGINS flashed on the black screen in white letters.
It was sinister, grim, and totally vague, with a dark tone that was the exact opposite of the bombastic, “showbiz”-style vignettes I’d done the previous times. Kevin Dunn had also decided, instead of airing the piece before a commercial break, to have a YouTube address subtly pop up at the bottom of the screen. He wanted the vignettes to go viral and take off via word of mouth, instead of bashing the fans over the head with them like we’d done in the past.
The first link was posted exactly six weeks before I was going to make my debut on January 2, 2012, and created an instant buzz. Over half a million people clicked on the link during the week, and speculation started immediately about who was returning. Due to the dark nature of the videos, some thought they were for The Undertaker or Kane, characters who had an evil history in the WWE. Others thought they were for me but then dismissed their own claims, saying they were too dark to represent Jericho. In reality they were meant to be that way because they were supposed to represent the end of the world, not a new character for me.
As the weeks went on, we added more elements to the videos, including a teenage girl who joined Nasal Boy in reciting the scriptures. This caused a whole new wave of controversy as the fans tried to figure out who the girl represented. Was the boy representing The Undertaker and the girl Michelle McCool? Were Chris Jericho and Stephanie McMahon returning to the WWE together? Or was the girl supposed to be Karma? Why I’d be returning with her, I had no idea. Maybe I was the father of her baby?
The bottom line (’cause Stone Chris said so) was that the girl never represented anything, she was just an additional element that Penucci added to increase the weirdness of the videos. Sorry for all the confusion, guys.
No matter the theories, people were talking and they were primed to see who was going to reveal themselves on the first Raw of 2012. The vignettes had done exactly what we needed them to do: create a buzz and prepare the crowd for my arrival.
Now it was time for me to prepare for my arrival as well.
—
My first order of business was to call Lance Storm and have him put aside a few days in December for us to train. Lance had been my go-to guy when I was ready to return in ’07 and he was the only one I trusted to help me get ready for this return as well. Vince had suggested I go to the FCW training Center in Tampa, and I loved the idea of working out in my own backyard, but I wanted to stick with the best. If I’m re-forming Van Halen, I call David Lee Roth, not Gary Cherone, ya dig?
Twenty-two years later, Lance and I pose outside the venue of our very first match, the Moose Hall in Ponoka, Alberta. I went there first, then Lance took a pic of himself a few days later and Photoshopped our shots together. Looks totally real, doesn’t it!
Second, I wanted a whole new look for my return. Since everyone was wearing suits in the WWE now, I wanted to ditch that look and go for something completely different (The Larch), but what could that be?
I saw a picture of James Hetfield wearing a pair of distressed leather pants at Metallica’s MTV Icon tribute and I thought they looked really froot. I couldn’t find any online, so I Googled “distressed leather” and found a designer in L.A. named Jonathan Logan who made those types of clothes. I shot him an e-mail and I gave him my idea of a distressed leather jacket with studded rhinestoned sleeves (I’d nicked that from Alice Cooper). Jonathan said he could do it but had a lot of work on his plate, so we decided it would be best for me to come to his shop to brainstorm.
I went to his studio in the fashion district in downtown L.A. and showed him what I had in mind. He came up with a few sketches and said he’d get started as soon as he was finished with his current projects.
“What are you working on now?” I inquired.
“I’m doing all of Justin Bieber’s outfits for his next tour. Then I have to make a few jackets for David Lee Roth for the upcoming Van Halen tour.”
Well, if that wasn’t happenstance, I don’t know what was. When I first started in the business, I wanted to be the David Lee Roth of wrestling, and now by total coincidence we had the same costume designer!
Jonathan also did all of Brad Pitt’s leather wardrobe and had just done an outfit for Alicia Keys for a DJ set she had done. He showed me a quick clip of her spinning at the club, wearing a jacket with a half dozen flashing lights sewn on the front. A flashing light went off in my head.
“How do those lights work?”
They were controlled by a switch in the pocket that turned them on and off like Christmas lights.
“If you were able to stitch in a half dozen lights, could you stitch in a couple hundred?”
“Of course I could,” he replied with real swagger.
And that’s how the idea for the famous Jericho lighted jacket was born. Over the next few months, the amalgamation of Hetfield distressed leather, Cooper studded sleeves, and Keys lights came together perfectly.
It makes me laugh when people ask me why the WWE doesn’t sell lighted jackets at the merch stand. . . . They don’t because the damn thing cost me almost ten grand, that’s why! Expensive, I know, but I’m sure Paul Stanley said the same thing about Kiss’s costumes in 1977. The Starchild knew just as well as I did that in showbiz you have to spend money to make money.
Nothing like this had ever bee
n done before, so my original blue-and-white lighted jacket was a prototype and it acted as one. Like Clark Griswold’s Christmas lights, if one of the hundreds of thin wires in the lining of the jacket broke or malfunctioned, the whole string of bulbs shorted out. The broken wire could be easily fixed with a soldering gun, but the problem was trying to find where the damn thing had snapped off in the first place. But technical difficulties aside, the jacket was the perfect addition to the Y2J legacy and became a late career trademark. As a matter of fact, at this point I think they could stick the jacket on a mannequin in the middle of the ring and turn it on and the fans would be happy. Some legacy, huh?
The first cut of the famous jacket. This was so early in the process it didn’t even have lights yet. I’m gonna use that same stand on my retirement tour—set the thing in the ring, turn the jacket on, and collect my paycheck.
—
My new look complete, it was time to head up to Calgary to train with Lance and see what I could or couldn’t do. While my back problems had pretty much cleared up, I was nervous about how it might feel after taking a few bumps. DDP yoga had been good enough to Band-Aid me together during everyday living, but taking bumps in the ring was a whole different world. What if the jarring falls and uncontrolled motions of having a match caused the buzz saw blades to begin biting again? The only way to find out would be to get back on the horse and ride.
I met Lance outside his school on a snowy day in December in suburban Calgary. I’d asked him to keep his students out of the building for the day because I didn’t want a group of rookies witnessing me getting carried out of the ring if the pain came back; so it was just the two of us.
I’d been told by my amazing Tampa physician, Dr. Chris MacLaren, that the worst thing I could do for my back was a Lionsault (my patented backflip off the second rope) and suggested I retire the move for good. So of course I decided that was the first thing I was going to try. Go hard or go home, right?
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