Remembering Eddie Guerrero On 20th Anniversary Of His Death
It feels like just yesterday, yet it’s been twenty long years since the wrestling world got sucker-punched by the news. On November 13, 2005, Eddie Guerrero, the man who made “Lie, Cheat, and Steal” a heroic mantra, was found dead in a Minneapolis hotel room. He was just 38. To say it sent shockwaves through the industry is an understatement; it was a seismic event that left a crater in the heart of professional wrestling that’s still felt today.
The Man Behind the Mischief
Everyone remembers the low-riders, the mischievous grin, and the “Latino Heat.” But what about the Eddie Guerrero who was just… Eddie? His family remembers is a wrestling dynasty.
His brother Mando, himself a wrestler, simply called him “a natural.” But that natural talent came with a heavy price. Eddie’s battles with substance abuse are well-documented, a dark period where he pulled away from the very family that adored him. Yet, the story has a redemptive arc. His sister Linda recalled how beautiful his last four years were, the years he was sober. “He transformed back to my little brother,” she said. It’s a gut-wrenching reminder of the man they almost lost and then did, far too soon.
The Unforgettable Impact on the WWE Locker Room
You can’t talk about Eddie Guerrero without talking about the sheer respect he commanded from his peers. William Regal, a man who knows a thing or two about the craft, put it bluntly: “There’s never or will never be anybody better than Eddie Guerrero at this job.” That’s not just high praise; it’s the gospel truth from one of the industry’s most respected veterans.
Even guys who were supposed to be his rivals couldn’t help but admire him. John “Bradshaw” Layfield (JBL), his on-screen nemesis in one of the most brutal feuds of that era, was a groomsman at Eddie’s wedding. JBL recalled a time when he was struggling personally, and Eddie, ever the observant friend, pulled him aside. “Hey, something’s bothering you. I want to talk to you,” Eddie said. That was the real Eddie.
And what about CM Punk? He worked with Eddie on the indie circuit in 2002, a time when Guerrero had been fired from WWE and was, in Punk’s words, “real sad.” But even at his lowest, Eddie wrestled Punk “like it was the main event of WrestleMania.” He taught Punk that it wasn’t about the moves, but when you do them and the emotional connection you forge with the crowd. It’s a lesson that shaped Punk’s entire career.
The Enduring Legacy of Latino Heat
For Eddie Guerrero, it’s not just a list of championships—and believe me, it’s a long and distinguished list. It’s in the way Dominik Mysterio, who was just a kid in that infamous “custody of Dominik” storyline, now emulates Eddie’s swagger every week on WWE TV.
His daughter Sherilyn is currently training to be a wrestler herself, gets messages constantly from fans sharing how much her dad meant to them. “His spirit is so alive,” she says.
Thank You Eddie For The Memories
For the rest of us, we have the matches. We have the memories of laughing as he “stole” a pinfall or tearing up as he finally won the big one at No Way Out 2004. Eddie was flawed, he was human, and he was brilliant. He poured every bit of himself into his performances, and in doing so, he became immortal. Twenty years on, we still lie, we still cheat, and we still steal moments to remember the one and only Eddie Guerrero. And we always will. Viva La Raza. Rest In Peace, Eddie.
