by Dave Batista
“GO TO YOUR DAUGHTER”
“Right now, you need to go be with your daughter,” Eddie told me.
I was afraid to ask for time off. I’d also been having problems with my daughter, and I wasn’t sure exactly what to do about them. I didn’t know if showing up would be the right thing.
Eddie insisted.
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 wer
e, 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.
On the Road 2/6/07
SIOUX CITY
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.
Eight
COLLATERAL DAMAGE
After Eddie died, I started working into a thing with Mark Henry, “the world’s strongest man.” Just a few weeks into that, I was injured at a house show. Mark hurt me when he did a move I had no idea was coming.
Mark’s got a good heart, and he didn’t intentionally try to injure me. But it doesn’t take away the fact that he was careless.
YOUR HANDS, MY LIFE
When you’re in the ring with someone else, you’re responsible for that person’s well-being. You have to protect them.
What that means for a wrestler is that number one, you don’t do anything that will hurt them. You shouldn’t take chances for yourself, but there’s a very sacred tradition that you don’t take chances for someone else. The other guy’s life is literally in your hands. You always let them know what move you’re going to do. And you don’t experiment. If you have a new move that you want to bring into your act, you work on it under controlled conditions, at a workout or practice. While a certain amount of wrestling has to be spontaneous, you don’t want to blindside somebody with something they’re not expecting. The regular moves are dangerous enough.
We communicate in the ring. That’s a huge part of what we do. We have to communicate in there, or someone could get killed.
On January 6, 2006, I was doing a house show with Mark Henry. At some point he set me up for a move I think he calls the Chocolate Moose. Or “mousse,” however the hell that’s supposed to be spelled. I don’t know whether it’s a dessert or a big deer or something you do to your hair. Maybe all three.
Anyway, he did it without telling me. I never saw it coming because I had my back to him. I trusted him. Maybe that was a mistake on my part.
Mark had been out for a while and I’m positive he hadn’t done that move since he’d been back. Which to me means he shouldn’t have done it then. If I’d known he was going to do it, I would have said no way. I wouldn’t have let him experiment on me, certainly not in that situation, in a house show.
He hit me with his full body weight. He slammed me to the canvas and my arm exploded. It took the entire weight of the move, tearing my triceps, the same one that had been injured before.
I was obviously in a lot of pain, but we kept going. Mark hit me with the ring bell and the ref called it a DQ. He left the ring and I was kind of recovering. Then they had him come back down and I picked up everything I could and hit him, just so I’d be leaving with the crowd cheering. I think the first thing I hit him with was the belt. Then I picked up the stairs and hit him with the stairs.
I was running on pure adrenaline. Even though my arm was hanging off my shoulder, I still picked up the stairs. But I was hurting. And mad.
I didn’t hurt him with the stairs or anything else, of course. But I can’t tell you how upset I was. We were getting ready for the Royal Rumble and headed into ’Mania. I was holding the title at the time. I felt he was completely reckless. We try to give our best in all our matches, but he took me out for a long time. He took a lot of money out of my pocket, a lot of money away from my family. And the injury took a lot of money, I believe, out of the company. I still to this day can’t figure out what he was thinking.
Mark’s got a good heart, and like I said, he didn’t intentionally hurt me. But it was still careless.
SURRENDERING THE TITLE
I knew it was torn right away. The company wanted to send me down to Birmingham, Alabama, to see Dr. Andrews, who is one of the best orthopedic surgeons in the world. He does repairs for tons of professional athletes, and a lot of guys in our company.
First, though, I had to go in and surrender the title. I didn’t want to, of course—no one wants to give up anything they’ve worked hard to earn, and the championship belt meant a lot to me. If you have to give up the title, you want to do it in the ring, during a match. But of course, it had to be done; I was going to be out of action for a long while, and there was no way I could wrestle until after I had my surgery.
I turned over the title on SmackDown! in a very emotional show. If you find a tape of it, you’ll see I was very choked up. I was in Philadelphia, and I left that city in tears. I really did.
While I was on the flight down to Birmingham, Alabama, to see Dr. Andrews, he had a heart attack. I had no idea when I walked through the door the next morning. His assistant met me in the hallway.
“Did you hear about Dr. Andrews?” she
asked. “He had a heart attack.”
“Well, who’s going to fix my triceps?”
It’s funny now, but I guess it wasn’t the most caring thing to say. I did go over and pay him a visit that day in the hospital, just to see if he was okay. The funny thing is, he sat right up in bed and examined me there. He wasn’t going to let a little thing like a heart attack slow him down.
As a matter of fact, he yanked my arm around pretty good. That guy is tough as nails. He’s a great guy.
His partner, Dr. Jeffrey R. Dugas, fixed my arm. He was one of the best doctors I’ve ever had, and not just as a surgeon, stitching me back together. He called me all the time, just to see how I was doing, to check up on me. He was very careful. They were very worried about me getting an infection, because the tear was in the same area that I had injured earlier. I guess when you cut into scar tissue, you can have some serious complications later. I couldn’t even go to a gym—not even to say hello—for at least a month. They didn’t even want me sweating.
They fixed it by taking a piece of my hamstring out of my leg and weaving it into my triceps. The repair I have in there now is so strong it feels better than it has in years.
REHAB
I was out for just over six months. I moved to Birmingham for a while and went through rehab there. I was fortunate to work with Kevin Wilk, who I believe is one of the best physical therapists in the country. We did a lot of simple exercises, stretches, a lot of rotator cuff work, and different things to keep my body from getting stiff. A lot of what I did had more to do with trying to stay in shape than with rebuilding my shoulder.
You wouldn’t believe it, but rehab was actually a lot of fun. There was an all-star cast of athletes working out around me, trying to get back in the game. It was one of those places where you wish they had cameras set up—it could be one of the best reality shows ever. We all went out collectively a few times. Birmingham’s a small town, so you get a bunch of pro athletes walking into a place and it’s like the Red Sea parting for you. They treated us like kings pretty much everywhere we went.
