THE STONE COLD TRUTH (40 page)

Eric gets to the ring and kisses up to Linda, but she’s too damn smart for him. Linda teases him, saying that there are members of the board who don’t think he’s fit for the job based on what he’s done the past month. But then, she says, there was a compromise.
Raw
will have
a new general manager starting tomorrow morning, sharing authority and duties fifty-fifty with Eric. Eric begs, and the crowd buzzes about who it could be. Linda tells Eric that the new co-general manager is someone who’ll be able to keep Bischoff in line.

Then you hear the sound of glass breaking and my music hits, and the Boston crowd goes totally wild. I walk down the ramp to the ring and cut a fun promo asking Eric to trust me in our new partnership. I give the audience all the pauses so they can say
“What?”
with me, and it’s great.

I start out by saying, “How you doing Eric?”

He looks worried.

“What?”
the crowd yells in unison.

Eric’s face sinks, knowing what’s coming. He won’t be able to get a word in edgewise.

“You doing all right?”

“What?”
the crowd yells.

“You feeling good?”

“What?”
the crowd yells.

“Are you nervous?”

“What?”
the crowd yells.

“Scared?”

“What?”
the crowd yells.

“What’s the deal?”

“What?”
the crowd yells.

Eric starts to say something and I interrupt him, saying, “You don’t have to say anything. I bet you think there’s no way this can work.”

“What?”
the crowd yells.

“You’re thinking there’s no way we can be partners.”

“What?”
the crowd yells.

“Work together.”

“What?”
the crowd yells.

“As a unit.”

“What?”
the crowd yells.

“Put it there,” and I stick my hand out to shake his hand.

He hesitates and says, “I don’t know, Steve. This isn’t a marriage made in heaven, you know what I mean?”

I respond with, “So right off the bat you’re saying you don’t trust me. I can read it all over your face. You don’t trust me.”

Bischoff is playing it down, so I holler to the audience, “If you think Eric Bischoff should trust Stone Cold Steve Austin, give me a ‘Hell Yeah’!”

The audience roars,
“Hell Yeah!”

Then I tell them I want to make sure I heard it right, so give it to me again. This time the
“Hell Yeah!”
is even louder. That was for emphasis. So much for Steve Austin not ever getting over in this business, right, Eric?

Then I go back to Bischoff and tell him, “So you’re saying, by not shaking my hand, you don’t trust me?”

He says, “You know, Steve, I want this to work. I really do …”

I come right back with, “Do you?”

“What?”
the crowd yells.

“Promise?”

“What?”
the crowd yells.

“Swear?”

“What?”
the crowd yells.

“You mean it?”

“What?”
the crowd yells.

“From the bottom of your heart?”

“What?”
the crowd yells.

“You’re telling the truth?”

“What?”
the crowd yells.

So I stick my right hand out again and remind Eric that starting tomorrow we’re going to be partners, fifty-fifty, and we’re going to get along. I grab his hand and we shake. I then remind him that the key word is “tomorrow”—and to everyone’s cheers, I kick him in the gut and put a Stunner on him.

And that’s how the live show ends.

After we’re off the air and it’s just the audience in the building watching us, Bischoff is just getting up. I go to shake his hand and help him up, but he shakes me off. Finally he gets up and shakes my hand, and I Stun him three more times!

The crowd loves it, and that’s what it’s all about—giving the fans something extra and having fun with it. I can’t wrestle, but I can sure hand out some managerial justice and a few Stunners here and there.

The following Monday night on WWE Raw, the first thing I do, as the new co-general manager, is to rehire J.R. as the
Raw
announcer. Screw Bischoff. Sorry, Coach.

As mentioned earlier, Bischoff fired me from WCW for real. He also contributed to the departures from WCW of Jim “J.R.” Ross and this book’s other coauthor, Dennis Brent. Now, in our WWE make-believe world, we can right the wrongs of the “real world.”

I get home from
Raw
in Boston on Tuesday. I drop my stuff at home and go to the gym. While there, my probation officer calls me on my cell phone. I’m being released early from my probation for doing everything the court asked me to do, and not messing up.

All of a sudden, my eyes light up. One of the terms of my probation was that I couldn’t pop open a can of beer, so I’d been deprived of the trademark ending to my matches.

“Can you please repeat that?” I ask, absolutely jubilant.

My probation officer confirms it. I’m off the hook.

This is it! I am a free man and all that stuff is behind me now. My debt is paid. I felt like another tremendous weight has been lifted from my shoulders!

Stone Cold Steve Austin can now do the end of his act again! And I do it plenty the following Monday in Halifax.

I call up Vince and suggest to him that on next Monday’s
Raw,
we have a real live kick-ass beer bash! I tell him that I just got off probation and if I’m not drinking about sixty beers in the ring next Monday, then there’s something wrong. That’s when they come up with these beer segments. One of
our Canadian sponsors, Molson beer, delivers forty cases of beer backstage for our use—enough to make for a hell of a beer bash!
America’s favorite beer drinker is back!

When I was talking to Vince, I told him to keep a camera on me to get the shots because I was going to do all kinds of stupid stuff in the ring that night to celebrate. I told him that one of the things I was gonna do that night was that I was gonna swim in the beer.

He started laughing, and he said, “What?”

But that’s what I do—and it works. Monday night comes, I come out and Bischoff and I have our little disagreements—but my rehire of J.R. stands. Then, later in the show, the beer bash begins. With all the celebrating and popping multiple beers for me and everyone else, there’s so much damn beer spilled in the ring, plus we’re all pouring cans out on the mat as we pop others open to share.

There’s like a half an inch of beer there on the mat. At one point, I go down on my stomach and do arm strokes and paddle my feet like I’m the Olympic swimmer Mark Spitz or something.

So I’m out there on live TV, lying in the ring on my stomach, swimming in the beer—and the camera guy misses it! I don’t know this until I get up and start doing something else, and I see the camera guy is waving to me and making swimming motions meaning “we need for you to do the ‘swimming in the beer’ deal again,” because he missed it first time around. So I go and do it again.

The live crowd doesn’t know what’s going on, but they enjoy seeing me flop down and do it some more. Next time, I tell myself, I should probably wear some flippers. Then I flip over on my back and do a “dead cockroach” impression, with my legs wiggling in the air as an inside rib to a friend of mine.

Stone Cold Steve Austin is always a “work in progress,” and what’s happening now is just another change on top of all the others. It’s a different role since I’m not wrestling, but I’ve come to grips with that, and now I’m just going forward with the current story line. It’s a lot of fun, and people seem to like it. I’m back on that ride and I’m real happy.

Swimming in beer.

At the end of the show I’m in the ring throwing down beers with Bill Goldberg, the big star from WCW who had finally come over to WWE, and that was a sight most people never thought they’d ever see—me included! Where do we go from here? We’ll just see. It’s been real interesting so far, and I’m having a blast.

My personal life has taken a turn for the better too. I’ve been fortunate enough to meet a wonderful girl named Tess that I really care about. Could she be number four—or will she be my next ex? Who knows at this point in my life?

Life has its challenges. I never read about anybody who amounted
to anything who didn’t undergo a journey that had its ups and downs, peaks and valleys. The key is how you respond to them. I’ve never walked away from my challenges or responsibilities.

Another day at the office.

Have I led an ideal life? No. Have I been a perfect husband? Hell no, far from it. But that’s part of the journey we’re on. Life ain’t perfect and neither am I.

The way I see it, Stone Cold’s ride is just beginning.
Oh, Hell Yeah!