Death Clutch by Brock Lesnar Page A

wrestle Bob Holly again? I had no idea what they had in store for me at the TV taping, and I didn’t care. I had enough. This was it. The end of the line. I was going home.
    I got up from the bar, walked through the airport to the ticket desk, and bought my own plane ticket to Minneapolis. When I got on the plane headed home, I ordered another drink to celebrate, but they cut me off. I wasn’t happy about being refused alcohol, and I almost caused a major scene that could have turned out really ugly. Not a smart move on my part, but when your head is all full with this other nonsense . . .
    Lucky for me I wasn’t kicked off the plane and I made it home. Those poor flight attendants. They could have blown the whistle on me, but they didn’t. I guess this is my chance to say “I’m sorry” in a pretty public way to them, and thanks for not making a bad day a whole lot worse.
    I had it in my head that I wasn’t going to do the TV taping in Savannah. In fact, I was going to pull a Steve Austin. I was home, and I wasn’t leaving again. Not to go back on the road. No way that was going to happen! This is where I can say I really understood what Austin was thinking that day he walked out, and why I never took it personally. When Steve walked out, it wasn’t about working with me. It was about everything but me.
    I didn’t want to leave because of Eddie Guerrero, or Bob Holly, or anyone else. I just had to get out. I had lost my faith, which happened because I had no family after being on the road three hundred days a year, and all I had was the Federation. How could I provide a nice life for my daughter if she never got a chance to see me? And what kind of financial rewards could I earn if I am slowly being worked back down the ladder? I was finally thinking clearly, or so I thought.
    I don’t know why I got on my plane the next morning and flew to Savannah, but I did. I think Rena talked me into it. “Go to Savannah, settle up face-to-face with Vince, handle your business the right way.”
    I love that woman.
    When I showed up at the building in Savannah, the producer told me I was supposed to go nine minutes on TV with Bob Holly. I blew a gasket. I went straight to Gerry Brisco, and told him, “You recruited me, so I want you to know I’m leaving. I’m outta here.”
    I wanted to tell Vince to his face, too. I had dropped the title to Eddie Guerrero so WWE could draw with the Latino market, and my match with Goldberg at WrestleMania is supposed to be so big the title isn’t needed to sell it? I’m supposed to crush Bill Goldberg at Mania in thirty seconds, but I can’t get through Bob Holly in nine minutes?
    I remember watching Brisco look for Vince, and I was just boiling. Vince was in the ring with HHH, so I just walked up to him and said, “We need to chat.” Not understanding how serious I was, Vince made me wait a few minutes. I was only getting hotter and hotter, so I interrupted his conversation and told him we needed to sit down and talk immediately.
    We went into his office, and I told Vince I was done, “going home.” I had no desire to wrestle Bob Holly on TV, didn’t want to wrestle that night period, and just wanted to leave. Vince said, “Well, Brock, what about WrestleMania ? You can’t leave on bad terms that way!”
    I’ll never forget his next line. “You can’t do this to me.”
    All I could think of was, “DO THIS TO YOU?” I didn’t know what Vince thought I was doing to him, but whatever was going on was something I no longer wanted any part of!
    I agreed to stay on through WrestleMania , but only because I wanted that payday from my match with Goldberg. I trimmed down my match on TV with Bob Holly to a few minutes, wrestled that night, got showered and dressed, and jumped back on my plane.
    Rena rode home on my plane with me, and I felt relieved. I was going to