Yes!

by Daniel Bryan

  SUNDAY, APRIL 6, 2014—9:51 P.M.

  Hurting but unrelenting, Daniel Bryan manages to keep Batista and Randy Orton at bay until the three-way dance starts to resemble more of a handicap scenario, not in Bryan’s favor. He’s explosive despite an exhausting exhibition with the Game merely two hours earlier; the fight in Daniel Bryan is inconceivable.

  The rapt audience only grows louder with each passing moment. The collective voice of seventy-five thousand individuals in New Orleans seems to suggest there’s not a soul in the crowd who’s not pulling for the “Yes!” Man … except two deplorable souls named Triple H and Stephanie McMahon.

  They try everything to intervene, even coming equipped with their own crooked referee, a returning Scott Armstrong (last seen cheating Bryan out of the championship seven months before). Bryan persists. He forces the Game to eat sledgehammer, then performs an Authority-crippling Flying Goa” dive to the outside. In the midst of his fury, his opponents strike hard. Their vile innovation to take out the bearded hero? A Batista Bomb–RKO combo through an announce table—a lethal result of an Evolution reunion, as if it’s 2004.

  The WWE Universe refuses to give up on Daniel Bryan, and he does the same. Midtransport on a stretcher, the grizzled grappler rolls off the gurney and treads back into action against Batista and Orton as they decimate one another. Charging knee strikes fell both foes; then it’s the faithful maneuver sharing its name with his Movement that renders a new WWE World Heavyweight Champion. At last, the Animal, Batista, is tamed by submission. He taps out to the “Yes!” Lock, and a brilliant new era begins in WWE.

  Confetti pours from all corners of the Mercedes-Benz Superdome and envelops the entire ringside area, including WWE’s newly christened champion. “Ride of the Valkyries” never sounded so good.

  The euphoria is infectious inside the stadium. Swathed in purple and gold confetti, WWE fans are taking photos to capture the moment when the “Yes!” Movement—their crusade—reached the Promised Land. In the ring, the indie star turned WrestleMania history-maker implores his sister and family to cherish and savor this emotional triumph inside the ring. Billie Sue’s younger brother has come a long way from sleeping on her sofa on wrestling tours. Tonight, this humble family from Aberdeen, Washington, sits at the epicenter of the entire WWE Universe.

  Walking out, I could tell the crowd was different than during the first match a few hours earlier. The whole atmosphere had changed after Undertaker’s defeat, and even though Bri, Nicole, and the rest of the Divas did a good job, the crowd was back to an eerie silence, still stunned and distracted. I came out last, after Randy Orton and Batista. As I “Yes!”-ed down the ramp, some people joined in, but it was nowhere near like it was in the beginning. The first seven or eight minutes of the match, the audience was still relatively quiet, despite all three of us working our asses off. The longer we went, however, the more the crowd got into it. When I hooked Randy in the “Yes!” Lock and Triple H came out to pull the referee out of the ring, the fans truly came alive. We had them after that. They were sucked into the story, the underdog with everything stacked against him while trying to achieve his dream. Finally the audience came back to enjoying what they were watching.

  We tied in events that happened months before, like bringing in Scott Armstrong as Triple H’s personal referee, since he was the ref that screwed me at Night of Champions. But I kicked Scott in the head as I was down and he fell out of the ring; then I dove onto him and Triple H. Next, Hunter tried to hit me with a sledgehammer, his weapon of choice for years, but I stopped it and hit him with it. Just when it looked like I might beat The Authority, Randy and Batista were back in control and started beating the crap out of me.

  The scariest thing we did all night was a spot where Batista stood on one announce table, powerbombed me onto the other, and Randy jumped off some steps and gave me his RKO on my way down. The spacing of it was difficult, because Batista couldn’t see with the powerbomb, and tables are always unpredictable at best. Luckily, we escaped with none of us getting hurt, although Randy came the closest, landing atop a television monitor on the way down. The crowd erupted at the spectacle. After that, medical staff strapped me to a stretcher and started taking me to the back, but shortly after we passed the ring, I started fighting my way off the stretcher. It was like a movie scene with the hero being nearly beaten to death but refusing to give up. Just when it looked like Batista was going to beat Randy, I ran in and hit him with the flying knee and trapped him in the “Yes!” Lock. There was this moment in time, in between me putting Batista in the hold and him actually tapping out, where there was this incredible energy emanating all around us. It’s the energy of expectation, that what you’d hoped would happen might actually be happening in that exact moment. I don’t know if that was my own internal energy or the energy of the audience, or maybe even it was all in my head.

  When Batista tapped out, all of a sudden, a dream became a reality. Not only had I main-evented WrestleMania 30, I won the WWE World Heavyweight Championship. I was fulfilled that the match had come out as good as we had hoped and that the crowd reacted to it as such. As purple and gold streamers came down, I started hoisting the two heavy titles up in the air, yelling “Yes!” I went down to ringside and hugged my mom, my two little nieces, and my sister, Billie Sue, then told her to come into the ring with my oldest niece. A majority of the stadium was still on their feet and chanting with me.

  The whole thing didn’t feel real. It was like being in somebody else’s body, living somebody else’s life. The only thing that kept taking me out of this moment was the producers relaying the instruction to “keep ‘Yes!’-ing.” After two long, hard matches and my right arm being weak as it was, lifting each of the twenty-pound titles again and again was exhausting. Soon I just tried to ignore them telling me to “Yes!” as much as possible, and instead, I simply enjoyed the moment. This was everything I had wanted since the time I was a little kid.

  When you experience a moment like that, there are always things you think of that could have made it better. In this case, I wish Bri had come down to the ring to join in the celebration. (She wanted to, but was stopped in Gorilla and told she couldn’t.) We don’t have any pictures in our house that would indicate to anybody that either of us wrestled at all. I would’ve liked a picture of Bri and me with my sister and my niece in the ring filled with confetti for the biggest moment of my career. My only other wish was that my dad could have been there in New Orleans to see that live as well, but he wasn’t able to make it down to WrestleMania.

  27

  THE JOURNEY CONTINUES

  SUNDAY, APRIL 6, 2014—10:18 P.M.

  “‘Yes!’-ing with those titles is a lot harder than you would imagine,” jokes Bryan, still catching his breath on the other side of the curtain. “We had seventy-five thousand people out there tonight, and they were amazing. They made this moment happen, and they made this moment special. And for that, I can never thank them enough.”

  Just ahead of him is a diverse but committed crew of familiar faces waiting for the man of the hour when his ticker-tape-dusted frame crosses through the curtain. WWE Superstars, indie alumni, and Bret “Hit Man” Hart—one of Bryan’s wrestling muses—are among those on hand to applaud the individual who refused to be told he couldn’t be WWE World Heavyweight Champion. The Celtic Warrior, Sheamus, who made his own World Title WrestleMania moment at Bryan’s expense two years ago, shares a strong embrace with his friend.

  Yet it’s a beautiful friend, confidante, fan, and lover who offers the warmest arms to Bryan. Though titleless herself despite her best efforts in the Divas Championship Invitational earlier, Brie smiles ear-to-ear at her fiancé’s accomplishment. They exchange I-love-yous, and Bryan drapes his good arm over her. They exit the backstage ramp and walk on toward a brilliant future as husband and wife.

  From here, they’ll return to their lives in a brand-new dream home. They’ll pick up their French bulldog, Josie, from doggy daycare. They’ll
finalize their plans for the (unofficially titled) “Yes!” Wedding and say “I do” five days from now. Plus, there’s always Raw.

  The World Champion “Face of WWE”—more appropriately, “Sweet Face,” as Brie likes to identify her fiancé—just grew a beard.

  She might not have been allowed to come down to the ring, but Bri was the first person I saw as I came through the curtain, and I gave her a big hug. She was beaming and seemed so proud of me. I thanked Randy and Batista, who worked their asses off and, in truth, worked around me. Randy kind of knew I was in bad shape, and they did their best to make me look as good as possible. I thanked Hunter, both for the match earlier and for helping make the main event so special. Then I thanked Vince. He gave me a big hug and congratulated me on the performance. None of this would have been possible without the opportunities he’d given me.

  One of the special things about this moment was being able to share it with friends I had known throughout my career. Seth Rollins and Cesaro. Sheamus and Cody Rhodes. Glenn. Jamie Noble, whom I hugged since he’d done so much to get me to that point.

  And then there was William Regal. It’s impossible for me to overstate how much he has been there for me, ever since I was nineteen years old. He was there through it all, and I would never have gotten anywhere near WrestleMania without him. Seeing him after the match, there was no way I could ever thank him enough for all he’s done for me. I could see in his eyes how proud he was of me, in the way a father is proud of a son, and it touched my heart.

  I got to the dressing room, and for a while I sat there by myself, immersed in a powerful moment of solitude. So many things in my life don’t feel real. When I gallop down to the ramp with thousands of people screaming “Yes!” with me, it doesn’t feel real. This amazing, beautiful woman loves me, and sometimes that doesn’t feel real. What I had just done was not real; it was fiction. I fictionally bucked The Authority. I fictionally won a championship. I was surrounded by fiction, but succeeding in the fiction felt like a real accomplishment, and everyone around me was treating my success in the fiction as if it were a real accomplishment.

  I wondered if the movie heroes ever felt like that after shooting an action movie, feeling as if they had really somehow saved the day. I would imagine not. I couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Still, I was proud. I rested there, holding this fictional, symbolic championship, seizing the opportunity to reflect on what had happened. This wrestling thing is strange. It blends fiction with reality in a way that makes them sometimes hard to separate, even when you’re on the inside. Regardless, it took my breath away, the scope of it—not for the destination, which was fiction, but rather for the incredible, real journey.

  EPILOGUE

  Five days after the biggest moment of my professional wrestling career, I stood next to a gorgeous stream, on a beautiful sunny day, surrounded by friends and family. When “Here Comes the Bride” started playing, emotion welled up inside me. After I hadn’t seen her all day, when Bri turned the corner and slowly walked up the aisle of roses with her father, tears ran down my face. I was so happy. We vowed to love each other for the rest of our lives, a very powerful agreement, and one that neither of us takes lightly.

  The rest of the night was magic, like a dream. We ate, we danced, and we laughed, surrounded by the people who had loved us throughout our lives. Before we went to bed, we consummated our marriage in rather spectacular fashion. Despite all the pomp and circumstance of WrestleMania 30, that day was the greatest day of my life.

  If this were a movie, this is where the story would end. The protagonist accomplished his dream, then celebrated by marrying the love of his life. The viewer would turn off the TV feeling good, as if from then on, they lived happily ever after. But again, that would be fiction.

  Bri and I left for our honeymoon in Hawaii—the first time I had ever been there—two days after our wedding. We stayed at an eco retreat and spent the week in a beautiful bamboo hut, where on one night we were able to watch a lunar eclipse directly from our bed. We woke every morning to the sun rising and went to bed shortly after it got dark. We hiked, we explored, we swam under waterfalls, and we bodysurfed in the Pacific Ocean. When we returned, I truly felt as if life had started anew, better and more vivid than it was before.

  Two days later, I was in Baltimore, the city where I first won the World Heavyweight Championship. Bri and I were leisurely preparing to go to Raw, when I got a phone call. My dad had died, completely unexpected, at the age of fifty-seven. I went from an unequivocal high to an unequivocal low. If our wedding day was the best day of my life, the day my father died was the worst.

  I cried and cried and cried and cried. I cry now as I write this. I did the opening segment of Raw that night, mostly because I didn’t know what else to do. The next day, I flew to Washington, went to the funeral parlor, and saw my dad’s face for the very last time. I hugged him, trying to say good-bye, but nothing felt good enough.

  My dad had not been able to come to our wedding. He and his wife, Darby, were going to come; however, shortly before the wedding, Darby got bad pneumonia and was hospitalized. My dad told me he wished he could come, but if anything happened to Darby while he was gone, he would never forgive himself. Not only did I understand, I knew he was doing the right thing, and I told him as much. He stayed with his wife, the woman who had stood by him for over twenty years. After the wedding, I called him and told him how well it went and how happy I was. He loved hearing about it and was happy for me. For us.

  Whenever anyone has asked me if wrestling is “worth it,” meaning is the reward worth the pain, worth the travel, worth the being away from your family, I’ve always answered yes. And it always felt like it was. But I naïvely assumed that when I was done wrestling, I could always go home and make up for all the time I’ve missed with my family and friends. Now, going home isn’t the same, and there is nothing I can do to make up for all the time I’ve spent away from my father. Instead of being proud of my accomplishments, all I feel is regret about not being there for the most important people in my life, the people who have loved me in a way that had nothing to do with wrestling. If you were to ask me today if all the reward was worth the sacrifices, I would say no. Yet I keep on because I’m not quite sure what else to do with myself and because stopping now won’t give me any more time with my father.

  The last time I saw my dad was Christmas of 2013. My sister came over to spend the holiday with us, along with her two daughters and her husband. My dad came over, and he was so excited that he was going to be able to play Santa for the girls. We had a nice Christmas dinner, and shortly afterward my dad went in to get dressed. We were all in the living room, where we have a sliding glass door, and all of a sudden we heard bells ringing. My oldest niece’s ears perked up, and she turned to my sister to say, “Mom, it’s Santa!” My dad came out in his Santa suit, saying, “Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!” He played the part well, and his eyes were beaming as his two granddaughters came to sit on his lap. When he left, we gave each other a big hug, and he told my sister and me how happy that night had made him. I will never forget that night.

  While I was at the funeral home, seeing my father for the final time, one of Darby’s daughters gave me a box my dad left for me. When I opened it, it contained a silver bracelet, presumably a gift he’d gotten me for the wedding. Inscribed on the front were my initials, and as I looked at the back of the bracelet, I started crying even harder. My dad had inscribed, “To the man that you’ve become, and the son you’ll always be.”

  The last time I saw my dad, Christmas, 2013

  NOTE

  1 THE BEGINNING

  1. In text, Daniel Bryan refers to his wife, Brianna, as Bri, who is known to WWE fans as Brie Bella.

  My sister, Billie Sue, happily sits with her little brother, Bryan, the fattest baby ever.

  My mom, Billie Sue, and I pose with one of many family pets over the years, our dog Mikey.

  Out on a fishing trip w
ith my sister and my dad.

  Me, carrying the Ring of Honor World Championship, which I held for 462 days. (Photo by George Tahinos)

  Hanging out with Lance Cade and sporting my “American Dragon” mask on our first tour of Japan.

  Celebrating on the ramp after winning the Global Honored Crown Junior Heavyweight Championship title in 2008.

  Choked with a chain by Takeshi Morishima. I didn’t get fired for this one. (Photo by George Tahinos)

  Streamers rain down inside the Hammerstein Ballroom in New York City for my emotional farewell to ROH on September 26, 2009. (Photo by Scott Finkelstein)

  Our symbolic “changing of the guard” photo, taken backstage after WWE, TLC, 2011 in Baltimore. The change did not quite pan out the way we had thought, but it remains a proud moment.

  The WWE medical staff stops my match with Randy Orton in June of 2013. Cooler heads would prevail, but for a moment my temper got the best of me, a rare occasion.

  A long way from our Velocity match ten years earlier, I face John Cena in the main event of SummerSlam 2013.

  … And so begins the most dominant tag team run of the modern era! Glenn and I had incredible chemistry in and out of the ring, making Team Hell No one of the most enjoyable times in my career.

  Bri says “Yes!” to my proposal at the top of Big Sur, in front of an ocean view and an exhausted Total Divas camera crew.

  Dad, Billie Sue, and me, rocking our 12th Man jerseys, Christmas 2013.