Batista Unleashed (24 page)

Photo 22

Jacob.

“Just make a call,” he said, telling me to call WWE management and explain what was going on. “Just go be with your daughter. You’re no good to us here with the way you are. You need to go see her.”

We did our match and I made a call to Johnny Ace, the head of talent, and I told him what was happening. He was very supportive. He had the company put me on a plane to go see my daughter and make sure she was okay.

And to meet my grandson.

I took my first look at him and fell instantly in love with him. I hadn’t seen my daughter in months—I’ll tell you about some of that later—but all my anger and bitterness just disappeared when I looked into that little boy’s wrinkled face. Things were changed. The baby was there and there was nothing we could do about it. I wasn’t ready to be a grandfather, but he was ready for me.

In that moment, I realized that the only thing that was important was that baby. And that it’s important to try to forgive and forget and move on from there.

Eddie really, really opened my eyes to that. We were tight from that day on.

EDDIE HAD MY BACK

He also watched my back. A couple of times that I had problems, he was there. One time I came back from my match and one of our security guys pointed me toward the locker room and said a bunch of the guys were waiting for me. When I went in, a bunch of the top guys, all the vets, were there. They started laying into me about a problem they had with me.

It’s trivial now, though of course it didn’t seem quite like that at the time.

I had been seeing this girl on the road and brought her to a couple of the shows. The guys had problems with that. They thought it reflected poorly on them and were concerned what their wives might think they were doing.

I told them fine. I understood. They’d never see that again. That solved the problem.

Eddie was there, not to judge me but to make sure things didn’t get out of hand. I know he was ready to defend me if it became necessary. Stuff like that meant a lot to me.

We used to travel home together a lot, because Eddie lived in Tampa at the time, and we had some pretty good talks. We’d talk about the angle we were running. He put a lot of thought into it and was really excited about working with me.

Eddie knew I hadn’t been in the business all that long. He knew I was still green, still learning on the job. But he always made me feel like a champion. He would always call me a thoroughbred.

“You’re a thoroughbred,” he’d say. “You’re pulling the chariot right now, and we need to all get behind you.”

He never made me feel like I was a rookie, or anything less than a world champion. I always loved Eddie for that. Even though he was a veteran and had been around forever, he never made you feel like you were less than his peer.

He was also the kind of guy who never passed judgment on anybody. He’d made a lot of mistakes in his life, and he never forgot that. He never forgot where he came from, or what he’d been through, and I think that helped give him a certain perspective on things.

Of course, that’s not to say when you were out of line, Eddie didn’t let you know about it. Eddie was one of those guys who was never, ever—not to anybody—afraid to speak his mind. And I respected him for that, too.

LAUGHING THROUGH THE PAIN

The thing that always amazed me about Eddie Guerrero, and that you’ll hear from every guy you meet, is that Eddie was always in pain. He had back problems and he was always really hurting. But as soon as he walked through that curtain, it all went away. He was intense, he was funny, he was energetic. And those vignettes he did—he could make you laugh, he could make you cry, he could make you hate him, he could make you love him. He was just so talented.

God, he was a funny son of a bitch. Keeping a straight face working with him was impossible.

I guess every fan is going to have their own favorite bit. I used to love this thing Eddie would do where he would piss an opponent off and then drop down on his knees, like he was praying. He’d kind of crawl around and hug your knees. It was just hysterical.

One time he had a match with Undertaker. While Undertaker was making his entrance, Eddie made a show of trying to hide behind one of the posts. He really had a knack for physical comedy. He turned simple bits like that into hysterical gags. He was a great showman.

THE WATCH

In November 2005, we had an angle going where he was trying really hard to gain my respect. We were working to a point where he would stick it to me with a really hard heel turn. Which was where things would have really started picking up and getting interesting. He had all this funny stuff planned out.

One show was going to be centered around him stealing my watch. He was going to do this thing where he noticed my watch in one segment and he’d say, “Ah, that’s a nice watch! I’ve got one just like it.” Then, next segment, I’m looking for my watch. I wouldn’t be able to find my watch. Then he would come in and he’d have my watch on. But he’d say, “Hey, what do you think? Here’s my watch. It looks just like yours.” And of course, it’s falling down to his elbow.

“Are you sure that’s not my watch?” I’d say.

“No, no, it’s my watch, man.”

Then a segment later, I’d get my watch back, and he’d accuse me of stealing
his
watch.

The routines would have gone on from there, until I stole his clothes and car and left him naked in the parking lot. It would have been hilarious.

Eddie was real good at things like that. He would be the butt of the joke just to entertain you.

THE CALL

On November 12, 2005, my wife and I were in Minneapolis, staying at the same hotel that he was in, the Marriott. We were all going to Europe for a tour. She was coming with me, and we were planning to leave from the hotel.

Eddie called me that night, pretty late. I think it was about two in the morning. I was already sleeping, so he left a message.

At the time, I was champion. The plan was to pass the title back to Randy. But I wanted them to put it on Eddie. I’d told him earlier that I was going to Vince to ask him to do that.

Well, Eddie called me and left a message saying that he really appreciated what I was going to do, but that it was the wrong decision. Randy should be champ, not him.

“We should do what Vince says. Vince is smart,” said Eddie. “He knows this business, and he wouldn’t make a wrong decision. It’s what’s best for this company.”

He’s promising to support me, but I know you can’t trust Latino Heat.

He added that he loved me and appreciated that I wanted him to have the title, even though it was the wrong decision.

I got up later that morning. My wife started going through her messages and all of a sudden she started crying. Dr. Rios had called to tell us Eddie had died.

I just couldn’t believe it. I just fell down. I was in disbelief. My wife and I both started crying. I think I cried for a week straight.

Everybody did.

But we still had to go and do the show.
Raw
and
SmackDown!
were having a supershow, where we were working together. Everybody was just heartbroken, absolutely in shock and heartbroken. There wasn’t a dry eye in the building.

TEARS FOR EDDIE

That show, I drove Eddie’s lowrider in. Eddie always used to drive it in and make it bounce. But when I drove it in, for some reason, the hydraulics wouldn’t work. There was no bounce. It was as if the car were in mourning like the rest of us.

They wanted me to do an in-ring promo, to talk about Eddie. I told them I felt funny about doing it. Eddie and I weren’t longtime friends like he and Chris Benoit were, and we weren’t family like him and Chavo were family. I thought they would have been better choices.

Eddie meant a great deal to me, but I didn’t have the history with him like those guys and a few others in the company did. I felt funny going out, because I didn’t think I was the right guy. But I went out and did it, because I was asked to, and because Eddie deserved it. I was really emotional. I got into the ring and I was already in tears.

I was heartbroken, and right away some smart-ass in the front row yells, “You suck!”

I ignored him. “I don’t know if I’m the right person to be out here speaking about Eddie,” I said.

The same guy goes, “You’re not.”

He was just being a smart-ass, trying to steal the spotlight at a completely inappropriate time. We were in real mourning and this guy’s just being a fucking asshole. That’s the kind of guy I wish I could catch after the show so I could just beat the living shit out of him. There’ll always be assholes like that out in the world, but sometimes you just have to shut them the hell up.

I hope he dies a horrible death. He’s a piece of shit in my book.

TRIBUTES CONTINUE

I don’t think I have recovered from Eddie’s death. I don’t think anybody has. I see his wife, Vickie, every once in a while. She still participates on our shows. She’s not over it. I see the kids all the time. They lost their father. I know they’re not over it.

You know, it doesn’t feel like we
lost
Eddie. It feels like he was ripped right out of our arms. It’s still shocking. It still hurts.

A lot of fans still mourn him, too, around the world. We see signs remembering him, honoring him. Things like “Eddie Guerrero Latino Heat,” and all the signs you used to see people holding up when he was still with us. I always, in some way, shape, or form, in every match that I do, give a little salute to Eddie. I think some people pick up on it. I hope they do, and remember him.

And then in a lot of ways, he’s still with us. A few matches ago, Kennedy wanted to do this thing where he slapped me, then dropped down on his knees. And I said, “That’s so Eddie-ish.” And then he started imitating Eddie and we just started laughing and telling stories about the funny shit Eddie used to do.

He’s still with us in that way. He’ll always be.

The
Raw
show in Sioux City, Iowa, went pretty well Monday night. It started with a bit where Undertaker chose his opponent for the upcoming
WrestleMania
. You could hear the crowd hold its breath as he made his choice by chokeslamming me to the canvas.

It was strange being on
Raw.
I hadn’t been there in a while. Right before I went out, I looked at Michael Hayes and said, “I hope they’ll remember me.”

“Oh, they’ll remember you,” he said.

It’s weird, but you do worry about things like that, at least I do. But the crowd gave me a really loud welcome, and that felt really good.

But that was last night.

Now it’s Tuesday, and I have to be in Omaha, Nebraska, in a few hours for
SmackDown!

I’m running late. I climb into my rented car and program the GPS unit to get me back on the highway. Mentally, I’m already changing gears, getting ready for the show.

Kennedy and I have a big match planned for tonight. It’s a Street Fight, which means it’s going to be physically brutal, and I have to gear myself up for that.

I also have to get there on time. The GPS gets me onto the highway quickly. With the road nearly empty and the pavement straight, I step on the gas and go.