The Three Count

by Jimmy Korderas

  So off I went to find the Gang to see what he wanted me to do. I found him sitting quietly in the locker room. I walked over and softly said to him, “Pat told me that I am reffing your match now and to get with you to find out what you want me to do.”

  George nodded approvingly and gave me the run-down of what was going to happen. “Okay, first I’ll beat up on the guy for about a minute or two. Then I’ll hit my finish on him. After the one-two-three, raise my hand. Then I’ll shove you out of the way, grab the guy, and hit my finish on him again. After the second time, you get in my face and start giving me shit. I’ll stick my finger in your face then you stick your finger in mine.”

  As soon as he said that, I knew right then and there that it was not going to end well for me. He continued with the plan, saying, “At the right moment, I will get mad, grab you, and give you my finish.”

  Trying hard not to look stunned, I told him, “I’ve never taken that finish before; what do you need me to do?” I had never taken anyone’s finish before but I wasn’t going to tell him that. I was trying to sound like a grizzled old veteran but somehow, I don’t think he bought it.

  “Nothing!” he replied. “Just keep your face turned to one side so you don’t land on your nose. I’ll take care of the rest. Don’t worry, you’ll be just fine.”

  I thanked him and left the locker room thinking, I hope I don’t screw this up. This was a huge opportunity for me to show them I was capable of doing whatever they needed me to do. Just then Pat walked over and asked if I had talked to the Gang. I told him I did. He then asked me if I was okay with doing it. Again I told him not to worry and that it would be fine. He smiled, gave me an encouraging pat on the back, and said, “Good luck, Jimbo.”

  It was now the moment of truth. Everything went exactly as the Gang had explained to me. After he hit his finishing move on his opponent for the second time, it was time for me to jump in his face and begin to read him the riot act. His rather large finger was now mere inches from my face and I continued to let him have it verbally. Out of nowhere, he reached out, pulled my head down, hooked his left arm around the back of my head, grabbed the waistband of my pants with his right hand, lifted me vertically in the air, and fell forward, dropping both of us belly first on the mat. He had just given me his finish, the 747. It is basically a vertical suplex, only instead of falling back with both men landing on their backs, he falls forward landing flat.

  The impact was jarring. Even more than I was anticipating. Despite that, I thought I had better not budge after such a devastating move and just lay there until someone came to get me. That’s exactly what I did. As I lay there motionless, there seemed to be a lot of commotion going on in the ring. Eventually Joey Marella and Jack Lotz pulled me out of harm’s way and helped me to the back. Once I was through the curtains, the first person to check on me was Pat. He wanted to know how I was. I told him I was fine but he asked again just to make sure. There was so much adrenaline rushing through my veins, I was not feeling a damn thing. After I assured Pat that everything was okay, he said nice job and smiled as he walked away. I was then approached by Rick Martel and Haku, two veteran wrestlers who I had become friends with. They were both genuinely concerned about my well-being. I reiterated to them both that I was fine. I reassured them that I was feeling good and they both said that the bump looked really good.

  For me, that was like earning my stripes the hard way. There goes Captain Cliché again. After the tapings were done, Jack, Red, and I headed back to the hotel. They both complimented me on the bump, which again made my night. We were spending the night in Glens Falls and driving the two hours to Lake Placid in the morning. The only problem for me was that I was still so amped up from my first ever ref bump, there was no way I could sleep. I’m not sure what time it was when I finally fell asleep for a few hours. The wake-up call came way too early. I showered, got dressed, and met my riding partners in the lobby. There was no way I was going to let anyone know that I was now feeling the after-effects from the night before. I’ve never said this to anyone before, but I landed almost flat with my knees hitting the canvas slightly ahead of the rest of my body. My knees hurt, not too much but enough to feel it. We all piled into Jack’s Cadillac Fleetwood and made our way to day two of TV.

  The drive to Lake Placid seemed to take no time at all. When we got there, everything was business as usual. The only thing they said to me was that I would ref matches for the first two hours of Wrestling Challenge. I would not be on the third hour of the show because it was to air the same week as the One Man Gang 747 incident taped the night before. That made complete sense considering the magnitude of the bump. This night I was much better at relaying time cues to the talent and began to feel just a little more comfortable. Maybe that first bump helped settle me down. Whatever the reason, on day two I was a bit more composed.

  After the tapings were over, I was met by Pat, who informed me that after talking to Terry Garvin, a former wrestler who was in charge of booking the refs for the WWF, I would be booked at all the TV tapings from now on. Basically, I was replacing John Bonello as the “Canadian” referee on the weekly broadcasts. As bad as I felt for John, there was absolutely no way I would pass up this great opportunity. Thanking Pat, I immediately set out to find Terry Garvin. I thanked Terry for giving me this chance and we shook hands to seal the deal.

  On a side note, John Bonello didn’t do himself any favours with the company after he was charged with and convicted of counselling first-degree murder. According to the Toronto Star newspaper, he was sentenced to 18 months and ordered to perform 360 hours of community service during his three years’ probation. The article states that Bonello paid an undercover officer a cash advance and gave him a house key with directions to shoot his wife while he was out of town reffing. A psychiatrist testified at the trial that Bonello was using steroids, marijuana, cocaine, and Benzedrine, which together contributed to a psychosis that could have given him delusions of grandeur.

  I thought that this was very unusual as I never suspected any kind of strange behaviour from Bonello. He was always very confident, even a little cocky at times, but that was not uncommon to see in this business. I guess you just don’t know what some people are thinking or are capable of. After this scenario, I was pretty sure nothing would shock me about this business but I would later find out that would not be the case.

  Obviously this was considered a black mark on the company as the front-page photo in the Star was Bonello refereeing a match with the WWF champion Hulk Hogan. It was the kind of publicity the company didn’t want or need. They were going through some legal battles of their own and this was just more ammo for those who disliked pro wrestling in general and in particular the WWF. Needless to say, this was the end of Bonello’s wrestling career with the WWF. I understand he and his wife have reunited and are still together to this day.

  I personally never had an issue with John Bonello. On occasions, we travelled together and he took it upon himself to be the “leader” of the Canadian referees, who included Terry Yorkston and me. Neither Terry nor I minded too much as that was just his character and we were both easygoing. All that being said, not to sound mean-spirited about it, the only influence John Bonello had over my career was that his misfortunes benefitted me.

  Now back to the story. Jack, Red, and I piled into Jack’s Caddy and we began our drive back home that very night from Lake Placid. Once we got on the road, Jack asked me what Pat and Terry wanted. I was taken aback, thinking that both he and Red would have heard the good news. After I gave them the skinny on what went down, they were both genuinely happy for me. I did feel a slight measure of trepidation from Jack though. Maybe he thought everything was happening too fast for me or maybe he was concerned that all this new responsibility would be too much for me to handle so soon. He may have even thought that all this newfound success would go to my head. Whatever the reason was, I could sense something in Jack’s tone th
at suggested caution. After all, not everyone is cut out for the wrestling business and this was definitely going to answer any questions as to whether or not I was capable of handling the increased schedule.

  Chapter 5

  A Whole New World

  In the summer of 1987 things really took off for me. All of a sudden, a whole new world opened up to this young kid from Toronto. I was travelling all over North America, all on the WWF’s dime. Airfare, rental cars, hotels were all being paid for by the company. It was pretty much the same deal John Bonello had. Every few weeks, an itinerary would arrive at my house with my schedule for the upcoming tours. I wasn’t working very many house shows in the United States, but mainly TV tapings. Of course I was still booked on all the Canadian shows. At that time, the WWF ran monthly tours in the Great White North. I was only working limited live events in the U.S., which I was perfectly fine with. I knew in my heart that sooner or later, I would be a full-time referee working a full schedule.

  Along with getting to travel all over the USA and seeing just about every state in the union, I began to experience some lasting memories that would remain with me forever. I will admit that there were some days that were less than memorable. However, being a person who tends to focus on the positives in my life, or at the very least tries to, the good times are the ones most embedded in my mind. One such moment occurred on my very first trip to San Francisco. As a matter of fact, it was one of the first TV trips I made. I had flown into the City by the Bay the day before the tapings. After picking up my rental car, I was off to find the hotel that the office had me booked in. Did I mention this was my very first trip to San Fran? It did take awhile for me to find the hotel but then figuring out how to get into the parking garage was another issue. After eventually solving that problem, I checked myself into the Adam’s Mark hotel. A king bed smoking room — yes, I was a smoker in those days. The reason I tell you this is because I discovered some new (to me anyways) information about the boss, Vince McMahon. Apparently, Vince was not fond of smoking. Pat Patterson smoked, Terry Garvin smoked, and they were top people in the company. In my mind it could not have been that big a deal; however, I was not willing to find out and was determined not to light up in front of the boss.

  The remainder of that day I spent just walking around the town, getting a bite to eat, then going to bed somewhat early to be ready for the next day’s television. Waking up early the next morning, I took my time getting ready to head to the Cow Palace, the arena in San Francisco. Before exiting my room, I lit up one last cigarette. Back in those days smoking was nowhere near as prohibited as it is today. You could smoke just about anywhere, even in California. Anyhow, I grabbed my gear bag and my smoke and made my way to the elevator. Waiting for it to arrive, I took one last drag and the doors opened. Standing right there in the elevator were Brian Blair, Brutus “The Barber” Beefcake, Hulk Hogan, and, as luck would have it, Vincent Kennedy McMahon. Now in full panic mode, I pull the butt out of my mouth, hiding it behind my back. I casually dropped the evidence in the ashtray by the door. I still had two lungs full of smoke in me when Vince said to me, “Well, what are you waiting for, come on in.”

  Hulk then piped in and said, “Yeah, brother, come on in.”

  Expelling as much smoke as possible away from the doors, I entered the elevator, not knowing what to expect. As soon as the doors closed, Vince began to lecture me on the evils of smoking. I nodded in agreement after every point he made, with the occasional “yes sir” thrown in for good measure. As that was going on, the other passengers in the elevator were enjoying the 22-floor ride down to the lobby. Hulk was not helping me out but giving me the odd poke in the ribs as Vince was speaking. I tried my best not to flinch but needless to say, it wasn’t working.

  Vince then asked me, “Are you all right?”

  I answered the boss, “Yes sir, everything is fine and I appreciate your advice.” The problem was, being as nervous as I was and with Hulk poking me in the ribs the entire time, I really have no idea what Vince was talking about other than smoking was bad for me.

  “Just trying to look out for my guys” were Vince’s last words to me before exiting the elevator.

  My guys? Vince McMahon just called me one of his guys. How freaking cool was that? The rest of the guys got a good chuckle out of the whole thing and each wished me luck. I wasn’t sure if they were joking but that’s how I took it. The rest of the day at the arena, every time Hulk, Brutus, or Brian would walk by, they would ask me if I had a cigarette. Funny guys. All the friendly kidding gave me a sense of belonging and made me feel like part of the team.

  Something else happened on this TV day in San Fran. The WWF had produced their second vinyl LP with original music entitled Piledriver: The Wrestling Album 2. The first album was mainly superstars’ entrance music with one track being the company’s own version of “Land of a Thousand Dances.” A music video was made of this song featuring Rick Derringer, Meat Loaf, and Cyndi Lauper (wearing a brunette wig and sunglasses) playing instruments while the WWF superstars sang along with the song. It was very cheesy but looked like they were having a lot of fun.

  The title song on this new album was sung by Koko B. Ware and that day, they planned to film footage from one of his matches to insert into the music video that was to accompany the release of the album. Little did I know the dark match assigned to me on this night would be the match filmed for the video. Koko was facing Barry Horowitz and I didn’t clue in as to why earlier in the day they had been recording Koko giving Barry his finishing maneuver several times. There was one catch: they were shooting the sequence from under the ring. They didn’t put the canvas on the ring; they slightly separated the plywood planks so that the camera could see up from under the ring. Koko would then administer the “Ghost Buster” on Barry and it would appear as if they were landing on the camera. It looked great. Now it was time for their actual match. Of course the WWF filmed the match but only used a very short clip from it in the music video. As short as the clip was, my face can be seen in the background. It’s extremely brief but I am there. I had made it into a music video that was shown on MTV as well as on weekly syndicated TV. A small claim to fame, but I’ll take it.

  San Francisco turned out to be so much fun. I couldn’t wait to see what else was in store. It didn’t take long me to find out what life on the road was really all about.

  The boys like to amuse themselves in so many different ways. Two gentlemen who really enjoyed creating a bit of a ruckus were Marty Jannetty and Shawn Michaels, collectively known as the Rockers. These two had a reputation of being partiers and getting a little overly rowdy. One night, I had the pleasure of falling victim to one of their pranks. It wasn’t too bad, but it had me worried about the consequences. Let me elaborate.

  We were in Indianapolis, Indiana, and after once again filming the WWF’s television shows for the upcoming weeks, I hopped into my rented Ford Taurus and made my way back to the airport hotel I was staying at. What I didn’t know was that most of the boys were staying there as well. It also became apparent that many wrestling fans were well aware of the location of the hotel the majority of the roster was staying in. As I pulled into the hotel parking lot, there were literally no spots available. After driving around for about 15 minutes, I stopped in the middle of one of the aisles to map out my next plan of attack. With the car still in drive and my foot firmly on the brake pedal, I felt a small nudge to the rear bumper. When I looked up in the rearview mirror, all I saw was Marty Jannetty in the driver’s seat and Shawn in the passenger side waving hello. They were also in a rented Taurus and had their front bumper pressed up against my rear bumper. Thinking that was the end of it, I was just about to start moving forward when all of a sudden Marty floored his car and began pushing my car across the parking lot. I didn’t think to take my foot off the brake. The sound of screeching tires echoed through the parking lot.

  Panic mode set in. What the hell was he d
oing and why? In the mirror I could see them both laughing. They were getting a big kick out this and I was thinking about how much damage was being done to the car and how one might explain it to the rental car company. Just as suddenly as he hit the gas, he stopped. Not knowing what to expect from him next, the only thing I thought to do was hit the gas pedal myself and get away. Now the chase was on. It was almost as if he was offended that I would run or, in this case, drive away from them. It resembled a scene straight out of a movie: two identical Fords playing car tag in the parking lot. As luck would have it, there was a car backing out of a spot that forced me to stop. Wham! Marty rammed the back of my car pretty hard. The car that was backing out of his spot stopped. The driver looked over in our direction with fear in his eyes and sped away. I pulled into the vacant spot, shut off the engine, and got out. I then went to the back of the car, popped open the trunk, got my bag out, waved to the Rockers, and walked into the hotel. There didn’t seem to be very much damage to the car so I chose to ignore it.

  A little while later, I figured I’d go down to the bar for a nightcap. Most of the boys were there having a good time. Some were having too good a time. I didn’t want to seem presumptuous by joining the party uninvited. Just then Shawn and Marty entered the bar. Uh-oh! What were they going to do when they spotted me? Thinking they hadn’t seen me, I relaxed with a drink at the bar. That thought was a little premature. While sipping on my cocktail, I received an unexpected surprise; two hard and simultaneous slaps on my back. The Rockers had indeed spotted me and came over to discuss our brief encounter in the parking lot. I was caught off guard when they said they were not angry in the slightest. On the contrary, they were actually entertained by my handling of the matter. They thought it was funny how I no-sold the entire thing after parking my car. I confessed to them how terrified I had been during the whole fiasco and that my no-selling was more an act of fear and not an attempt at defiance. They laughed and they each bought me a drink. I thanked them for the drinks and for not hurting me. They laughed again and went off to do their thing.