Often considered wrestling's version of Madonna (because of his dynamic versatility in a single art-form over the decades, not because they've both caused a stir using sex to flog tickets...), Chris Jericho's near-30 year career has afforded him a litany of riches he was often told were beyond him due to the numerous things he apparently didn't have, rather than the key attributes he did.
Virtually all of the major checkpoints on Jericho's wrestling resumé have been loaded with caveats. He was too dull to get over in WCW. Too "ha-ha" to draw money. Too short to make it to WWE. Too intent on flips and tricks to make it in WWE. Too inconsistent to be a megastar. Too stuck in the past to be a star yet again. Too entrenched as a heel to ever turn babyface. Too Americanised to ever work again in Japan. Too old to have great matches.
The criticisms thankfully haven't ever dogged him. All of them, at various points were proved false, incorrect or plainly absurd anyway. Whenever Jericho apparently "lacked" the apparent magic required, he invariably pulled five new tricks out of his sleeve (or scarf), comfortably justifying his continued presence as a vital performer that understood his audience and the wider wrestling fanbase.
His continued success is less a matter of shock than awe, even if his most glorious moments were designed and executed to surprise.
Square eyes on a square head, trained almost exclusively to Pro Wrestling, Sunderland AFC & Paul Rudd films. Responsible for 'Shocking Plans You Won't Believe Actually Happened', some of the words in our amazing Wrestling bookazines (both available at shop.whatculture.com), and probably every website list you read that praised Kevin Nash.