Everybody's favorite Edgemeister here with this week’s installment of the Edgeucation.
I'm actually in Canada right now for an impromptu press conference regarding SARS in Toronto. I didn't feel like lugging my computer through customs, so I just typed up this bad boy early. The press conference will be in conjunction with the Toronto Blue Jays and the Molson Indy. I'll be the hometown WWE representative.
Anyway, on to other matters. First, I'd like to mention that I didn't even realize last week’s article coincided with the anniversary of Owen Hart’s death. Subconsciously, I'm sure it was kicking around in there somewhere, and that's why I was thinking of some of his ribs. I'd hate for people to think that's the only reason I wrote about Owen.
The response I got last week let me know that Owen's pranks are a big hit, so here's another one. Once again, this one involved a match with Christian & me vs. Owen & Jeff Jarrett. We were in Germany (I can't remember the name of the town), and Owen was in rare form. About halfway through the match, they had some heat on me. Owen decided to hit me with an object from his trunks. He pulled it out, wrapped it around his fist and decked me with a dreaded … NAPKIN!
Now I had seen what he was doing out of the corner of my eye, so I sold like I was out like a light. He went to pick me up, but I dead-weighted him. Out colder than Mike Tyson against Lennox Lewis (Maven, that one is for you). So he decided to give me some infamous Owen Hart pin attempts. First he covered nothing but my ankles. The rest of my body was free to kick out, but he had those ankles covered. Of course, the ribs were now going back and forth, so I waited until 2 3/4 to kick out. From there, he gave me the crotch cover, where he'd basically sit right on your face. I had no counter for that so I kicked out quickly. Now, the referee was checking him for the object. He did the classic old-school "check my kneepad, check my armpit” trick until finally the ref caught him and the napkin fluttered harmlessly down to the mat. I was laughing, Jeff was laughing, the ref was laughing, Christian was laughing, and the crowd sat in complete silence. They had no clue what was going on. The ribs finally ended with a grand finale of a double clothesline with the napkin from Owen and Jeff. Just another classic example of Owen being Owen, and making a long, tiring trip entertaining.
On the injury front, things seem to be progressing smoothly. I'm back up to 220 pounds. After the surgery, I'd lost almost 30 pounds. I have the kind of metabolism that if I miss a workout or a meal, I lose weight. Thankfully, it's slowly but surely coming back. Dr. Youngblood said that athletes lose 2 percent of their muscle mass per day when they have an injury that takes you to that kind of grinding halt. Now, all of that's done and I'm slowly moving on. Only about nine and a half more months!
On a side note, I've been booked for on-sale appearances July 12 in Kansas City and Aug. 9 in Ft. Lauderdale. I'm also doing something for the Molson Indy in Vancouver on July 26-27 and, like I mentioned last week, the MuchMusic Video Awards with Trish Stratus on June 22.
This week as I was sifting through the ol' sack o' Edge e-mails, it seemed like there were a lot of people interested on how the name Edge came about. So here goes. When I first entered the company, I really don't think there was any kind of plan established. I was this guy who walked the streets of New York City beating people up. The vignettes were cool, but didn't explain much to the crowd, which I think was the point. The problem was it didn't explain much to me either.
Most of my contact came with Vince Russo, who said he wanted me to be a "modern-day Jim Morrison." I thought, “What do I do, wander down the ramp in a drunken stupor and flash the crowd?” How can a wrestler be Jim Morrison? They had me reciting poetry. I think what they wanted is what Jeff Hardy was doing in his final days for the WWE. The only problem is, that's just not me. When all was said and done, I wanted to look like a wrestler, with tights and all. The creative department drew up a character that had leather pants, green hair and a blue silk shirt with gold chains on! I saved the drawing, and besides the chains, it eerily resembles Jeff. Anyway, now that I had said I was uncomfortable with poetry and wanted to wear wrestling tights, it was time to hash out a name. The names Riot and Rage were what Russo came to the table with. Once again, it just didn't seem to fit me, at least in my eyes. I'm the one who had to pull it off, so I needed to be comfortable with it.
Now here comes the idea for the name. I wish it was some kind of cool story for all this buildup, but it really isn't. I was driving from Syracuse to Albany with Don "Cyrus, Jackyl" Callis and we were throwing band names around – Offspring, etc. Finally, the radio station we were listening to dawned on us. EDGE 10something, and Don suggested, “How about Edge?” Out of everything else it seemed the coolest, although, at the time, I would have preferred Adam Copeland or Sexton Hardcastle (my moniker in the independent promotions). Well, obviously, the name stuck, and here I am today, way cooler than that other Edge in U2. Oh, I can just feel the Irish hate mail flooding in now!
Now shortly after this, I heard a rumor that it was being thrown around that I would be a deaf, mute wrestler! Talk about the kiss of death in this business! Thank God it never stuck, or I'd be typing my promos for you to read.
Have to give a huge shout out to my New Jersey Devils. I felt bad for Ottawa, and even more so for assistant coach Roger Neilsen, but my team is my team, and they pulled it off. Big ups to my buddy Grant Marshall, who set up the winner with two minutes left in a 2-2 tie. He promised me a ticket to the Finals, so East Rutherford, here I come. Time to go Duck huntin’!
Also wanted to mention my latest CD pickup. The All-American Rejects. If you like power pop like Weezer, Foo Fighters and Cheap Trick, you need to do yourself a favor and pick this CD up. In my humble opinion, it rules. But not as much as sodas!
So that's it for a slow week in this neck (no pun intended, by the way!) of the woods. Until next week, you have been Edgeucated.