Mark Madden: 'Dark Side of the Ring' brought back memories of Chris Benoit, Eddie Guerrero

I watched the season premiere of VICE’s “Dark Side of the Ring” pro wrestling series Tuesday. There was a scene from WWE TV where Chris Benoit was weeping hysterically over the death of Eddie Guerrero.

I started crying, too.

Benoit was the program’s subject. It was difficult to watch.

Guerrero is revered, and rightly so.

Benoit is reviled, and rightly so.

But they were both my friends.

Guerrero died suddenly in 2005 as a result of acute heart failure. Benoit committed suicide in 2007 after murdering his wife and son in their home. I worked with both in World Championship Wrestling from 1995-2000.

Guerrero was one of the best men I’ve ever met. He was concerned about you, and not just superficially. He would do anything for you.

Benoit could be a bit more distant. But he was earnest, honest and encouraging.

As wrestlers, they were among the best of their generation, likely the very best. Their work ethic and sense of accountability are unmatched by anybody I’ve encountered in any walk of life. That combined with their skill sets to make them shine like diamonds.

Guerrero and Benoit made me cry before: At WrestleMania XX at New York’s Madison Square Garden in 2004, Guerrero won the WWE title and Benoit won the world championship. The best friends embraced in the ring after. Confetti and fireworks.

WCW considered them too small. But, given chance, they wrestled like giants. Became larger than life. At WrestleMania XX, each got what he had long deserved. It was wrestling’s biggest event of the year. It was in wrestling’s most famous arena.

I was watching. I knew what it meant to them. It was emotional.

I don’t want to normalize, excuse or forgive what Benoit did. I knew his wife, Nancy, aka “Woman.” She was so sweet (and a great performer). Their son, Daniel, was only 7. There are living victims, too: Nancy’s family and Benoit’s two children by his first marriage.

Steroid use and CTE get blamed for Benoit’s heinous actions. But Benoit went downhill psychologically so dramatically after Guerrero died. They were very close. Wrestlers spend more time on the road with their friends than at home with their families.

Benoit’s heart broke. His mind followed.

WWE erased Benoit from their history. But I can’t erase Benoit from my memory. I don’t want to.

I remember the Benoit who did an endless lap of the concourse beneath the arena the afternoon of a show: Shirtless, wearing dress slacks, drinking a bottomless cup of coffee.

I remember the Benoit who stole my credit card and maxed it out on drinks for the boys in Las Vegas: “Hey, you’re one of us. We play ribs all the time.” (Lucky my credit limit wasn’t too high then.)

I remember going out with Benoit and Nancy, challenged by the former to keep up in terms of consumption. (I couldn’t. I did the Irish exit.)

I remember the Benoit who said I should go to WWE with him and Guerrero. “Chris, they won’t want me.”

My memories of Guerrero are equally vivid.

I remember Guerrero yelling at me when I didn’t tip a waitress 20%: “These people support their families on tips!” When Guerrero realized I had actually given 30%, he laughed and hugged me.

I remember Guerrero, on a brief hiatus from WWE in 2002, wrestling an independent match in Pittsburgh against then up-and-coming star C.M. Punk. Guerrero asked me to evaluate his work. He was going back to WWE and wanted to know if he was ready: “I trust you to tell me the truth.”

Guerrero was brilliant, and I told him so. Guerrero (voice rising): “Don’t sugarcoat it! I need to know! Am I ready? Be honest!” Me: “Eddie, why are you yelling at me?” Laugh. Hug. But… “Are you sure it was good?”

I was doing internet play-by-play at a show in Los Angeles. When Guerrero came to the ring, he was wearing an old “Gringos Locos” T-shirt, the tag team composed of him and his friend Art Barr (who died in 1994). Guerrero pounded his heart and threw the shirt to me. Later, he told me to keep it: “You were a big fan of me and Art.” In 2016, I passed that shirt on to WWE’s Sasha Banks, who often cites Guerrero as her inspiration. (More tears.)

The VICE documentary was tough to get through. But I’m glad I did. It was cathartic.

Working for WCW was the time of my life. But those days are gone, and so are a lot of my friends.

Chris and Eddie. I often think of them that way: Chris and Eddie. Friends forever attached. I miss them.