Well I ain't had nothing to drink
I knew that's probably what you'd think
If I dropped by this time of night
Remember way back when
I promised you I'd drop in
At one of those meetings down at the Y

I remember the first time I saw him sittin' alone in a corner of the bar, knockin' back his 900th beer of the day. Ok, so maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but still…it was a buncha beer. I thought maybe he was just havin' a bad day. Got some bad news from home or somethin' like that. Hell, me of all people shoulda recognized that he had a problem. Then again, someone else recognizing you have a problem isn't the answer - you gotta know there's a problem and you gotta want to solve it.

It never really registered - the number of times I saw him drinkin' or drunk or hung over. He was always sittin' alone when he drank. That ain't ever a good sign. I coulda gone over and asked what was wrong. But, me and him ain't ever been what you would call friends. I could probably count on one hand the number of conversations we've had since I started working here. I wracked my brain, tryin' to think of someone, anyone I had ever seen talkin' to him. He was everyone's buddy, but I didn't know anyone who called him friend.

Well, they started talkin bout steps you take
Mistakes you make
The hearts you break
And the price you pay
I almost walked away

I don't know what woulda happened if anyone else woulda found him that night. There probably woulda been a whole shit load of trouble. Luckily - if you wanna call it that - I was the one that stumbled across him, literally. He was sittin' in the hallway, a dark, secluded corner his safe haven. I was just trying to find a place to relax for a minute, gather my thoughts before my match. I've seen people messed up before. Hell, I've probably seen myself more messed up than not, so I can recognize the signs, ya know?

He looked up at me, his eyes redder than the Harley emblem on his shirt and it took me a minute to realize that not only was he drunk, but he had been cryin' as well. I sat down next to him, waiting to see if he was gonna speak, or punch me, or whatever. He hardly glanced at me, just moved over a little. When I asked if he was okay, he just shrugged. After a few minutes of silence that seemed to stretch on longer than the Texas plains, he muttered three words - "She left me."

Damn. I knew how rough that was, but I couldn't help but wonder - did she leave because he was drinkin', or was he drinkin' because she left? Before I had a chance to ask, he spoke again. "Said she couldn't take it any more, not knowin' what I was up to, always comin' in at the crack of dawn drunker than shit." He shrugged again. "I fucked up, man," he said weakly. "I'm fucked up and I fucked up. I don't know what to do any more."

I thought back, remembering the point that I had realized I needed help, and I remember how I didn't want anybody offering advice or threats or anything like that. All I had wanted was for somebody to listen to me ramble. So I let him. He told me about the trouble he was havin' with his wife, the pain he was in, both physical and mental. And then, he shocked the hell outta me. "Hell, I can't even get him to talk to me any more."

You could hear a pin drop
When this old man
Stood up and said I'm gonna' say it again
Like I do every week
For those who don't know me

Him who? Again, I wracked my brain, trying to figure out who HE was. I couldn't recall anybody that I had ever seen him particularly close to. I couldn't even remember him ever lookin' at anybody, or havin' one of those hushed, private conversations that the guys tend to have when they're trying to be all secretive about their other lives. What kind of man would the prince of darkness be attracted to? I was dying to know, but was scared to death to ask.

We sat there in silence for a long time before he tried to stand. He stumbled, fell back against the wall and slumped down to the floor again. I stood up and held out my hand, waiting. Finally, he took it and let me pull him up. "I know I need help," he whispered. "I just don't know how to get it." I offered him a smile, then told him I knew where he could go. I walked down the hall with him, watching as he headed to Vince's office. He knocked, then turned to me, his eyes asking me to help him do what he had to do.

It's the simple things in life
Like the kids at home and a loving wife
That you miss the most, when you lose control
And everything you love starts to disappear
The devil takes your hand and says no fear
Have another shot, just one more beer
Yeah, I've been there, that's why I'm here

When they told us about the Buried Alive match for Survivor Series, everyone thought it was to give him a chance to heal up, time for his old bones to rest and try to get back to fightin' shape. When his weary eyes looked across the locker room at me, I was the only other one that knew the real reason. I guess in a way, it was kinda symbolic - he was going to be buried in front of millions of people by the man the fans thought of as his brother.

The reality of it was, he was burying his demons, trying to find himself inside the shell he had become. I looked around, trying to gauge the reactions, trying to see if anyone seemed moved by the announcement that he was taking time off. Later that night, and for the next couple of weeks, there was always speculation - whispered rumors and uneducated guesses as to why he needed a break. It took me a few days, but I finally realized that there was one person who never seemed to join the discussion, never had an opinion. The funny thing is, no one seemed to notice it but me.

This ol' boy stood up in the aisle
Said he'd been living a life of denial
And he cried as he talked about wasted years
I couldn't believe what I heard
It was my life word for word
And all of the sudden it was clear

I got a Christmas card from him. The return address was Austin. The card had been sealed with clear tape, and I knew that it had been carefully checked over by the staff, making sure there was no contraband or unsuitable language. He didn't sign it. There was one word scrawled inside - "Thanks." Nothing more was needed. I recognized the lack of a lengthy holiday wish. We shared a bond now, and it was the kind of bond that needed no words to be understood.

When Vince started talking about him comin' back, it made me smile. I couldn't help, selfishly, feeling a little responsible for that. I actually begin to look forward to his return. Again, like before, he was always on the back of my mind. When I won the belt, he was one of the first people to call me, outside of my family. He congratulated me, told me he knew I was busy but would like to talk longer when I had time. I made time, shutting myself in bathroom so I could talk to him.

He told me about rehab, about walkin' around his big, empty house, about the thing that kept him from picking up that bottle again. He thanked me for being there for him, and I told him that it was just a coincidence that I found him. that's when I realized that you don't argue with the dead man. We talked for almost an hour, and then he asked me a question that would change everything.

It's the simple things in life
Like the kids at home and a loving wife
That you miss the most, when you lose control
And everything you love starts to disappear
The devil takes your hand and says no fear
Have another shot, just one more beer
Yeah, I've been there, that's why I'm here


New York City is awesome. Sure, I've been here more times than I can count, but it's still cool as hell. Everyone was running around like crazy, tryin' to get ready for the big weekend. We had appearances, autograph signings, interviews, the whole nine yards. I knew he was here. I had heard some people talking about him in the elevator. I wanted to find him, talk to him, but there was something I had to do first. Something that, I thought, would help him much more than being welcomed back into the fold.

It didn't take me long to find who I was looking for. There was a group of teenage girls surrounding him outside the gym, all of them wanting to touch him, hug him, and do god only knows what to him. he took off his cap and handed it to a little boy in the crowd, and the kid reacted how all of us want our fans to. The kid help up the cap, then held it to his chest, protecting it like he had just pulled the sword out of the stone and was about to save the world.

I walked up and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned and saw me, his smile couldn't hide the sadness in his eyes. Nobody else woulda seen it, but I knew why it was there. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" I asked him, and he nodded. He signed a few more autographs and I gladly did my time with the fans as well before we headed back to the hotel. He looked around the lobby, trying to find someplace we could talk quietly, and I shook my head. I motioned for him to follow me, and we went into the empty club.

I studied him for a minute before saying, "Look man, I don't know what happened. I can understand why you would leave him, cuz I've been there. When my wife left me, when my friends left me, I didn't get it at the time. But after I got clean, I realized what kinda hell I put 'em through. The only reason I'm where I am right now is because they forgave me and stood by me. They loved me enough to put up with it. And I loved them enough to come back to them."

He cocked his head, weighing his words carefully. I smiled when his jacket came open, revealing not one of his trademark jerseys, but a Harley Davidson shirt, at least two sizes too big for him. I knew how he felt. I knew how Mark felt. Now I just had to figure out if he knew what I was tryin' to tell him. he opened his mouth to speak, but the words were slow in coming. I waited patiently. I'd let him take all the time he needed.

Quietly, almost shyly, he looked at me. "Eddie?" he spoke softly. "Can I ask you something?" I nodded, waiting for him to continue. "Do you think he loves me? I mean, like REALLY loves me?" Putting my arm around his shoulder, I smiled. it wasn't until then that I had ever noticed how young he really was, how vulnerable and insecure.

"He loves you," I assured him. He shook his head. "Why would he?" he asked. "I…I told him I hated him, I didn't care what happened to him." He shook my arm off his shoulders and paced back and forth in front of me. "I walked out on him because he lied to her about us. He lied to me about her. I told him he couldn't have both of us. he had to choose. And then…" His voice trailed off, and I knew what he was thinking. "You didn't make him do this, man," I said. "He made his own decisions, his own choices. It wasn't because of you or her or anything else."

He nodded, then looked up quickly. "He's here already, isn't he?" I nodded, then smiled. "C'mon," I said. "Let's go find what room he's in." For the first time in months, I saw him smile a real smile. We bribed the desk clerk to find his room number and we entered the elevator. He fidgeted nervously, watching his reflection in the mirrored walls. I tried to reassure him but I don't think my words made a dent in the fog. He jumped at the sound of the elevator bell and practically bounced out of the doors.

I followed him out, shaking my head at his youthful energy. He stopped at the door, turning away. I grabbed him and knocked on the door, not giving him a chance to run away. Mark opened the door and smiled when he saw me. "Hey Eddie!' His voice boomed off the walls. "How ya doin'?" I pulled him in front of the door and Mark's mouth dropped open. "Um, hey," he stammered. John looked up at him and tried to speak.

"Why…"Mark started to ask as "I love you" slipped from John's lips. I chuckled. I knew they needed to be alone, to talk everything out. And I knew they didn't have much time to do it before our next appearance. I watched as Mark reached down and tenderly stroked John's cheek, then turned to walk away. "Where ya goin', Eddie?" I turned at the low roar of Mark's voice. Smiling, I told him, "You got things to do, man. I'll see y'all later, amigos."

They both stepped forward and I was caught in their arms, both of them hugging me tightly. "Thank you," they both whispered. I shrugged. "That's what friends are for," I said and was rewarded by two equally huge grins, filled with love and thanks and something else - hope. I heard the door to Mark's room close as I stepped back onto the elevator. They had a long road ahead of them, but I could relax now, knowin' that they could make it. When you hit rock bottom, when you get as low as you can possibly get, you start to wonder about a lot of things - how you got there, how you were gonna get back, why you were even in this world. I spent many years wondering that same thing, but seeing the two of them together, knowing that I mighta had some hand in their finally being happy, I realized - that's why I'm here.

I know for us it may be too late
But it would mean the world to me
If you were there when I stand to say
It's the simple things in life
Like the kids at home and a loving wife
That you miss the most, when you lose control
And everything you love starts to disappear
The devil takes your hand and says no fear
Have another shot, just one more beer
Yeah, I've been there, that's why I'm here
Oh, I've been there, that's why I'm here