In Memory of Eddie Guerrero - by Kevin McCaighy
I wasn’t following wrestling when Owen Hart died; his tragedy is the only comparison I can make to what I and thousands of wrestling fans felt upon hearing the news. You know, wrestling is based around conflict and opinion, in an ever-revolving pattern of resolution and discord – but there is nothing like the death of a beloved in-ring performer to act as a force for united feeling and expression. In the days that followed Eddie’s death, the outpouring of grief and sadness from fans across countless message boards, fan sites and official sources was something to behold, and I can say that for me, a chance to express my sense of loss with complete strangers on various threads was as close to a wrestling community as I’ve ever felt. The international nature of life these days means that you can follow what any promotion in the world is doing if they have a website of any kind, and I really feel that the net came into its own as a vehicle for people who are continents apart to come together in celebration of a supremely talented worker. What did Eddie Guerrero mean to me? I only took notice of him once he’d joined the WWF as part of The Radicals stable on 2000. I’d missed out on all the great 90s action he’d been involved in, and so I had to watch him as “Latino Heat” alongside Chyna, wondering why this guy was so highly rated by so many people.
Of course much column space was devoted to his well-publicised battle with drink and drug addiction, and how Eddie fought back from those problems to recover his life, his marriage, and finally his wrestling career. The interviews he gave to magazines like POWERSLAM during his time out of the WWE after being fired in 2001 are brutally frank about his problems: “ I can’t blame anyone but myself on this. I couldn’t handle the situation that was going on: you know, trying to stay clean, trying to deal with the divorce and everything else. If anything, as far as my sobriety is concerned, losing my job with the WWF was even more of a wake-up call than my divorce.”
However, since his death, Eddie’s phoenix-like return to WWE and wrestling glory has assumed a mythic stature. His comeback was greeted warmly, and he definitely made the most of the second chance. The Los Guerrero’s tag team with nephew Chavo was a riot, and was even more hilarious when Tajiri stepped in after Chavo got injured. I liked the feud with Rob Van Dam over the frog splash, though it is weird watching Eddie in that frog splash TV piece where he and RVD debate the merits of their technique because Eddie is clearly out of sorts and appears dishevelled. Their Ladder match on RAW is one of my favourites, mostly for the killer action, but also partly for the bit where Eddie momentarily turns face when he takes out a fan who tries to invade the ring.
In the end, my abiding memories of Eddie Guerrero are the same as thousands of others: one is the momentous WWE Title victory over Brock Lesnar at No Way Out 2004, possibly the best against-the-odds title win of recent times. It was a match that embodies just what WWE are capable of, yet seem to not be able to produce consistently. The storyline of Eddie’s “redemption” versus the cocky, near-invincible young champion, the in-ring action that went back and forth with ever-escalating tension, the fervent support in the Cow Palace for Eddie, plus the wild celebrations afterwards with Eddie leaping into the crowd with the belt were dazzling; they all combined to form what was one of WWE’s last two truly great title matches. The other of course, was Chris Benoit’s WWE Heavyweight title victory over HHH and Shawn Michaels at Wrestlemania XX. In the scenes that followed the pinfall, with Eddie coming to the ring with his belt to congratulate his close friend with the crowd going crazy and the tickertape falling upon them, we perhaps saw the last great moment in mainstream wrestling. Two great veterans of wrestling had made it to the top of their profession at the same time, and were together in celebration at their greatest achievements, the fulfilment of their lifelong dreams. I doubt we will we see a moment as perfectly judged and as emotionally powerful as that in a WWE ring again. Those are only a few pieces of the Eddie Guerrero legacy. There’s no need to go into all the specifics of his talent once more, because we all know what they were. I think it is suffice to say that when you watched Eddie work, he had you on the hook, you were right in the palm of his hand. All the talk about where he ranks amongst the best ever don’t matter – he will never be far from the thoughts of any wrestling fan. Despite never knowing him or ever seeing perform live, I feel that I’m in debt to Eddie Guerrero, and always will be, for what he gave us. I will never forget you, Eddie…RIP Eddie’s official website: http://www/eddicts.com/ Kevin McCaighy kevinmccaighy@hotmail.com
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Some weeks have now passed since I heard about the premature death
of Eddie, and in that time like all wrestling fans who’ve been
affected by this tragic event, I’ve been reflecting not just
on what Eddie meant to me but how his passing will affect the business
we devote our passions to. For me, being a wrestling with no access
to WWE programming barring occasional glimpses of it on line or in
wrestling publications, keeping track of Eddie recently had proved
difficult. After losing the strap he’d won so magnificently
against Brock Lesnar to the incompetent JBL last year, Eddie had
been embroiled in some useless feuds and angles, such as the ridiculous
paternity feud over Rey Misterio’s son Dominik. Although it
looked like his feud with newcomer Ken Kennedy was going to go somewhere
and he was poised to dethrone Batista for the WWE title, it hadn’t
been an especially productive period for him. I think the fact that
he was on his way back to main event status did accentuate the grievous
loss the wrestling world sustained when news of his death was announced.
The sense of disbelief was massive; the shockwave of emotion was
unlike anything I’ve ever seen in wrestling. 
It wasn’t until
I got into ECW and was able to search out vintage tapes from his
time in the promotion that I got it. Like a lot of people did once
they heard the news of his passing, I dug out my copy of “Cheating
Death, Stealing Life” to watch the immortal match between Eddie
and Dean Malenko in their final ECW battle. I watch old ECW tapes
and DVDs so much that at times I feel like I live in the ECW Arena,
and this match from 1995 is one I view often. For me, it set the
template for what Ring of Honor has gone on to implement in terms
of specialist, pure wrestling aesthetics. Neither Eddie nor Dean
is working a gimmick; I don’t even think Dean ever took the
mic in ECW until after this match ended. What Eddie was so good at
was casting a spell on audiences with his sterling in-ring abilities,
and in facing someone as gifted as he was, the level of competition
was sky high. Sometimes it would be a purely technical thing that
stands out to me, like his enzuguiri kick or the way he executes
a tornado DDT from the top rope; at other times it is the heartfelt
promo he gives post-match where he uses his own voice, without the “Cheech” accent.
In the emotional cauldron of the ECW Arena on that remarkable stage,
he looked truly free to express himself.
What sometimes goes unacknowledged
is the time Eddie spent out of the WWE on the independent scene, where
he worked for a variety of promotions
including Impact Pro Wrestling, Ring of Honor and my particular favourite
indy fed, IWA Mid-South. In early 2002, Eddie was involved in a feud
with the yet-to-be-noticed CM Punk over the IWA Heavyweight title,
a feud that also involved an unmasked Rey Misterio. In those post WCW
days, you could see just about anything on an independent card, so
the sight of “Latino Heat” Eddie Guerrero winning the IWA
title ahead of Punk and Rey in a sports hall in Indianapolis only seems
a rarity in hindsight. What is so great about these indy appearances
is how much effort Eddie puts in. Whether its at the IWA building in
Clarksville (which was an industrial storage unit) or in front of forty
people in a gymnasium in Dayton Ohio, Eddie gave it all he had, putting
over Punk and Colt Cabana in a huge way. Likewise, his appearances
on some of the earliest Ring of Honor cards leant an air of star quality
to a promotion looking to revolutionise the art of wrestling in the
21st century. It is no surprise to me that both Punk and Cabana became
heroes in ROH later on. In some ways it is a shame that he couldn’t
stay in ROH, where his technical skills and combination of international
styles would have found great favour. I can only imagine how awesome
the matches between Eddie and the likes of American Dragon, AJ Styles,
Christopher Daniels, Low Ki and Homicide could have been…
We all now know that it was heart failure
that took Eddie’s life.
And that does make a difference. I know I wasn’t the only one
that hoped his death wasn’t the cause of a relapse on his part.
It was as much the workload of a pro wrestler as his past that contributed
to his death. Eddie’s passing has caused an uncommon amount of
introspection within the business, particularly in WWE. The tribute
shows were overwhelming, the displays of emotion on all the wrestlers’ faces
as they assembled at the start of RAW were humbling: I was full of
admiration for the efforts the company made during this period to pay
tribute to Eddie and his achievements. In what has been a catastrophic
year for WWE, it took the death of one of its most loved and most gifted
athletes to break through the torpor and truly connect with the ordinary
wrestling fan once more. The sight of Chris Benoit repeatedly breaking
down whilst trying to give his thoughts on Eddie to camera was the
most poignant all year, and I watched it fighting back tears of my
own as I watched a man struggle, inconsolable at the loss of his best
friend. It was all too real, too much to take.