EPISODE 31 AND NEW

I was en route to LA, eight months after I had had Roux, when Vince McMahon called me.

“What would a comeback look like at SummerSlam?”

“Well, damn, I don’t know. You just called me. What are you thinking?”

“Well, I’m thinking you show up and you cost Charlotte the title. And then go away again.”

“What’s the story behind it?”

“There is none, just a one-off and then we don’t see you again until the draft.”

I was insulted.

They had originally told me I was coming back at SummerSlam; then they changed their minds and told me I wouldn’t be returning until October. Now they had changed their minds again.

I had plans to make. A baby to take care of.

“Can you give me a night to think about it?”

“Of course, of course.”

As soon as I got off the phone, I told Colby, “This fucking guy…,” and started to explain the phone call.

To my surprise, he responded, “Ha-ha! I kind of like it. Just the idea of you fucking someone over and then disappearing. Sounds like something Austin would do.”

“You think? Like, they don’t have any sort of plan. Feels like it’s just a waste of my return.”

“Nah, man. It’s not your real return.”

With an outside perspective, I thought about it. Let it simmer and went to sleep getting pretty excited about being in the mix again. Let’s fucking go.

Only to wake up to a text from Vince the following morning saying: “I’ve changed my mind. But be ready.”

“Well, that’s disappointing. I had come around to the idea. But don’t worry, I stay ready,” I replied.

I had done all the in-ring training, gotten in the best shape of my life, but at least I had more time to prepare.

Only a day later, on a Saturday, Colby, who was doing live events, texted me to say: “Sasha’s out.”

She was set to face Bianca for the SmackDown women’s title.

SummerSlam was only a week away. I was going to get the call that they needed me.

Sunday came. No call.

Monday came. No call.

Tuesday came… brrring, brrring.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Becky.” It was Bruce Prichard, the creative director of Raw and SmackDown.

“Hi, Bruce.”

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“Going good. What’s up?” I responded, knowing exactly what was up.

“Well, we have a bit of a problem.…”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Sasha might be out for SummerSlam,” Bruce stated.

“I heard that was a possibility.”

“And you gotta either give them the match or something bigger”—not that this would be necessarily a “bigger” match, but the element of surprise made it most intriguing.

“So, what are you thinking?”

“Well, Bianca comes out, says Sasha can’t make it. We go to a two-on-one match with Carmella and Zelina. She beats them. Then you come out and beat her quick. You win the championship and we turn you heel. Then we don’t go back to you and Bianca till Mania.”

“Ohhhh, that would make her a huge babyface! I like that!”

“That’s option A.”

“What’s option B?” I asked.

“Option B is you interfere in the Raw title match and cost Charlotte the title, then we don’t see you till the draft.”

“So you’re saying either way you need me for SummerSlam?”

“We need you for SummerSlam.”

“All right, see you there.”

“Thanks, Becky.”

But now, shit. Who was going to look after Roux? With such short notice, we had no nanny situated.

We had discussed our friend Jen, but she was going to SummerSlam as a fan and was excited about her first big event. I didn’t even know what I’d need for this damn comeback. New gear? I didn’t have any of that.

Thank god I had dyed my hair a week earlier.

Turning heel was a huge move for me. I had spent the entirety of my career in WWE as a babyface. The one time they tried to turn me into a heel, I became an even bigger babyface. But this was different. It might work this time. Because I was given so much before I left to have Roux, the online crowd was already beginning to turn on me as a babyface, and if I screwed over someone they genuinely cared for, like Bianca, someone who was new and exciting, and the crowd was genuinely behind and happy for the push she was getting, it would be the most dastardly thing I could do. And I was excited to try out a new character, one that was the exact opposite of “The Man.”

By Friday night I still wasn’t sure what I was doing! Communication was minimal out of both uncertainty and trying to keep this a big secret. Thankfully, being the angel that Jen is, she said she would miss the show to help us out, relieving my greatest source of anxiety.

At around noon on Saturday afternoon, Johnny Ace, now head of talent relations, and Bruce came to see me on my and Colby’s tour bus that we had recently acquired. There was no way we could travel fifty-two weeks a year, different town every night, with an infant without one.

Bruce, Johnny, and I chatted formally amid the chaos of what was about to be everyday life on the bus. Important business meetings going on while Roux scooted around the floor, cooing and crying, Jen picking up toys, Colby cooking food, and our bus driver, Andy, pottering about, looking for things to fix lest he be still for a single second.

Sasha was out and I was in. It turned out they had a little problem with their original idea. They had forgotten to book Zelina on the PPV. So instead of it being a two-on-one match, it would just be Bianca versus Carmella.

I would then come out, beat up Carmella, and throw her out of the ring and into the steps. Cut a promo challenging Bianca to a title match that would “blow the roof off the place” and then beat her lickety-split.

Bruce started, “Vince just wants one thing.”

“Well, I can do that!” I responded, relieved that I wouldn’t have to have a full match right away with someone I’d never worked with.

Johnny added, “So you go to shake her hand, punch her in the throat, and then one thing—what would that be?”

“Probably a Rock Bottom?”

“Sounds great. We’ll tell Bianca and get her in here soon so you can go over it with her.”

“What about Carmella? Does she know?”

“No, we’re going to tell her in gorilla. Trying to keep this as secret as possible.”

I get kayfabe, but not telling a performer what was actually going to happen was pure fuckery, and the last thing I wanted to do was put Carmella, whom I adore and respect, in that position.

I texted her right away: “Hey, I know they’re trying to kayfabe you on this. But your match doesn’t actually happen. I come out and they want me hitting a few things on you and throwing you into the stairs. I’m so sorry.”

She knew that it was likely my return was happening. She’s a great worker and didn’t mind that being her role. But understandably, she did not appreciate being kept in the dark by the office.

She did, however, appreciate the heads-up so at least she wasn’t blindsided in gorilla. I felt guilty that my return put her in that position, though. A new feeling to add to the already bubbling melting pot of emotions. Anxiety, excitement, doubt, apprehension, suspense—you name it, I felt it.

Bianca came in to see me a few hours later. The chaos of the bus was now amplified as we had added a hair and makeup person, Megan, to the equation, Roux constantly trying to take brushes out of Megan’s hand as soon as she came near my face.

I got up as Bianca came in the door; she gave me a huge hug as she smiled and welcomed me back. I didn’t really know her, having only met her a handful of times, but she could not have been more gracious.

“We’ll make you a huge babyface out of this. Thank you so much for being so cool,” I told her, trying to ease her mind of any potential fuckery on my end.

“I know how it goes. I’m just excited I get to be a big part of this moment.”

I knew she was being honest. I can also imagine she is not an android and was also extremely disappointed. She had been doing a fantastic job as champion.

It was my goal to make sure that she got her moment back in a big way at WrestleMania.

It could have been easy for her to bitch and cry about being buried, to be mean to me and not want to work with me, and it all would have been understandable. She was nothing but pure class and tact and deserved her next championship to be even bigger.

I retreated from the chaos in the front of the bus to the back bedroom and made a call to The Rock to make sure it was okay that I used the Rock Bottom, not wanting to just straight up thieve his finishing move. Never mind he’s the most successful movie star on the planet, he’s also like Batman: if you need him, he’s there in a flash.

“Of course,” he said, in his wonderful way of saying everything that he has ever said. “This is your moment. Take it in. And when the time’s right, I want you to look into the camera and say, ‘I’m back’—just that.”

He’s the freakin’ best.

It was almost show time.… I fed Roux one more time and handed her off to Jen, ready to do the damn thing.

I was rushed past everyone in gorilla, including John Cena, HHH, and Stephanie, who all gave me big smiles and stood at the curtain, waiting for my music to hit.

All the thoughts were going through my mind like What if they don’t remember me? and What if it’s not that big of a pop?

My worries vanished almost right away when my music hit and the crowd cheered like we were still good buds, sending a shock wave of gratitude down my spine.

I was too happy and excited to act cool. To use HHH’s term that he used with me years earlier, I was on “excitement crack.”

Once I kicked Carmella out of the ring—which, by the way, didn’t get much of a pop, mostly because I imagine to most people she didn’t deserve it and it was mean-spirited to the woman who had shown up to cover up the absence of another.…

It was game on: the crowd became electric, feeling the intensity of what was about to unfold. This wasn’t the match they were prepared for, but by god was it the match they wanted now. I soaked up all their excitement and love for one final second, knowing that in about one minute they were going to despise me. Alas, ol’ pals, I thought, it’s been a good run, but I have done all I can as your friend; it is time for me to see what I can do as your foe.

We had a little bit of good sportsmanship with a handshake, then bam! Right in the kisser! Slam! Right on her back! One! Two! Three! “Annnnnnnnnnddddddddd neeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwww!! SmackDown women’s champion! Becky Lynch!”

The air was sucked out of the arena. The pop had faded to boos, or mostly shock and confusion. What the hell just happened? Did they just squash Bianca? Why? How?

My heel turn had begun. People were genuinely angry.

It was going to be hard for someone who had been a fan favorite to all of a sudden be a bad guy. But if they felt that the machine was behind me, that I didn’t give a fuck about anyone else and wanted to keep my spot by any means, then they would surely be mad. And they were big mad.

When I came back, I saw Bianca crying. Understandably. She felt like her momentum had been killed, not that she would sell it, though. She’s a real-life champion and passed it off as being happy for me. I tried to reassure her that I would do right by her, but she didn’t know me and had no reason to believe me. I would have to prove it to her.

As I made my way through the sea of wrestlers and colleagues whom I hadn’t seen in nearly two years, welcoming me back and offering hugs, I was eager to find my baby. Show her my new title—“Look what Mama did!”—as if she’d give a shit. This was my new reality, the perfect blend of the thing I love and the people I love most.

Instead of going out to dinner to celebrate my comeback, or hanging out with my friends, talking shop and making jokes, I popped a frozen meal in the microwave and ate it while nursing my child; then it was time to give her a bath and put her to bed. I couldn’t imagine a better way to celebrate. Or a better way to live my life from here on out.