The Three Count

by Jimmy Korderas

  Learning experiences were not only reserved for the ring and refereeing, they also very much applied to out of the ring activities such as transporting and setting up the ring. By now I had taken over as the person in charge of the ring crew in Canada. There were several crews spread out across North America. There were rings in California, Colorado, Texas, Illinois, Florida, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Connecticut, New Brunswick, and of course Toronto. I was in charge of the Moncton and Toronto rings as well as assisting at times with other crews on their rings. At that time, each crew was a two-man crew and occasionally a three-man crew, depending on the tour, the venues, and how difficult the setup might be. Not everyone is cut out for this kind of lifestyle. Among the tiresome duties were long drives between towns, the vast majority of which I handled. As I stated earlier, I am a terrible passenger and prefer to drive. Just ask my old ring crew partner Derek Casselman. He will tell you that the only thing I needed for any long trip was a pack of du Maurier cigarettes, a six-pack of Pepsi, and a radio. I could drive all night as long as I had my essentials for the drive.

  Derek was added as my assistant on the ring crew after several failed attempts by the Canadian office to find me some help. Two of the potential candidates were the husbands or boyfriends of ladies who worked in the office for Jack Tunney. One was an older gentleman whose name I don’t recall. A nice guy but the work was too difficult for him. There were two others who didn’t pan out either for completely different reasons. One was not really any help at all and only had the job because Elio Zarlenga felt bad for him and wanted to help the guy out. Needless to say he didn’t last long either as I finally had enough of his antics and needed someone who was an actual help and not a detriment to the job.

  There was one fellow they tried out and he was Jack’s secretary’s boyfriend. At first he was a good worker; that is until he got a taste of being in the ring. Jack thought it would be a good idea to teach this guy to referee just in case I was not available for whatever reason. You never know what could happen — I could get hurt or get sick and that would leave them in a spot if I was the only one capable of doing the job. Smart thinking on his part. Unfortunately for all of us involved, once he got a taste of refereeing, it went straight to his head and he thought his worth was more than it really was. He developed an attitude that began to rub me the wrong way. It all came to a head on a trip that saw us travel to the east coast.

  On this trip, we had to rent a 24-foot Ryder truck because the main events for the shows on the east coast tour were cage matches and we needed a bigger truck to carry both the ring and cage. After great shows in Fredericton and Moncton, New Brunswick, the final day had us in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Not wanting to start the long drive back to Toronto that night, we spent the night just outside of Halifax and got an early start in the morning. Now the drive from Halifax to Toronto in a Ryder truck takes between 22 and 24 hours of driving time, so I figured two days max to get home. We were on the road at about eight-thirty a.m. and, as always, I drove. Rivière du Loup, Quebec, was where I had planned to spend the night. It was about the halfway point of the trip but I wasn’t too terribly tired just yet. I decided, much to the chagrin of my passenger, to drive the 200 or so kilometres to Quebec City.

  After stopping to refuel just outside Quebec City, I felt like I could continue to drive for at least a few more hours so I just kept going. By now my assistant was passed out in the passenger seat unaware of the circumstances. I thought Trois Rivières and Montreal were not too far away so I could at least make it to one of those cities and crash. Wrong again! I found myself motoring right through Montreal and into Ontario. I was really in a zone and determined to go as far as my body would allow me to. As we were passing Kingston, Ontario, my colleague awoke from his slumber amazed by how far we had travelled. He didn’t seem as upset as before because now we were so close to home.

  We were in the home stretch and zipping through Oshawa, Ontario, when disaster almost struck. Out of nowhere my passenger yelled out, “Holy shit, look at that!”

  Thinking that something was on the highway in front of us that I was not seeing, I hit the brakes as hard as I could, locking up all four wheels. Thank god it was five-thirty a.m. and there was practically no one on the road. With smoke billowing from all the tires and the sound of everything in the back of the truck shifting, I frantically asked what I had missed. He pointed to the sky and remarked, “There was a shooting star in the sky. Did you see it?”

  The tires were not the only things smoking right about now. You could probably see the smoke coming out of my ears. I was absolutely furious. If you were to ask anyone who knows me, they will tell you that they could not picture me getting angry. I was always known as the calm, level-headed guy of the group. I uncharacteristically reared back and open-hand slapped him right in the side of the head and said, “Do you realize we could have had an accident or even worse rolled the truck, all because of your stupid little shooting star? We’re almost home; just sit there and don’t say a word until after we unload the truck into the storage unit.” He was shocked, at the slap more than anything, I believe. He agreed to keep quiet for the rest of the trip, which was fine with me. We arrived at the storage unit and unloaded the ring and cage, before I drove the star-gazer home and then dropped the rental truck off and headed home myself.

  Not too long after that incident, the young man was not a part of my ring crew anymore. His dismissal had nothing to do with this incident but rather a string of bad decisions made by him. Derek was then given the opportunity to be my assistant and it turned out well for both of us. He accompanied me on so many trips, and we became good friends. We did have our own run-ins as well but usually with others and not each other. Nothing too intense, more fun encounters than anything. On one of our countless trips to Winnipeg, Manitoba, we had one of those run-ins. To be more accurate, the incident I’m referring to happened on the ride home from the “Peg.”

  The one thing Derek discovered about me very quickly was that I liked to get to my destination as soon as possible with minimal stopping, especially coming home on a long drive. What I discovered about Derek is that he has a self-professed small bladder which meant frequent rest room stops. So when he told me he had to go, I assumed that it was his usual pee stop. Like I had done many times before, I ignored his request for a pit stop so he could relieve himself. He repeated his request and I answered him by handing him an empty Gatorade bottle and said, “Here, use this.” It’s an old wrestlers’ trick. Not really, but it has been done in the past in emergency situations. The thing here was that the Gatorade bottle would not solve this particular problem. It was not a number one that Derek was talking about.

  Once I found out what he really meant, we looked for a good spot to pull the ring truck over so he could take care of business. We were much too far from anything that remotely resembled a town — we were smack dab in the middle of farm country. There were no gas stations, restaurants, or convenience stores for miles and Derek had no time to wait. I pulled over by a nice stretch of trees on the shoulder of the Trans Canada Highway. Derek grabbed the roll of toilet paper we kept in the truck and ran for the woods. Sitting in the truck, I lit up a smoke and chuckled to myself while waiting for him to finish. It didn’t seem to take very long but all of a sudden, Derek emerged from behind the trees, running while trying to pull his pants up at the same time. Finally getting his pants on, he hopped into the passenger seat and screamed for me to drive. Just as he said drive, I noticed what I believe was a farmer also running towards the ring truck with what looked like a shotgun in his hands.

  I put it in drive and floored the gas pedal getting us out of there as quick as possible. I looked over at Derek and asked him, “Did you at least get to do what you set out to do?”

  Breathing heavily, he replied, “Pretty much. I think I’ll be good for a while but I left the toilet paper in the woods.”

  We looked at each other and laughed our ass
es off. That is a story you tell your kids about, we agreed. Whenever I tell anyone that story, the first question they almost always ask is how can anyone stop and relieve themselves on the side of the road. I always answer them that it is infinitely more favourable than doing your business inside the truck. Anyway, I’m not sure why I chose this tale about my friend to share considering we’ve had some fun times. It’s all good, though, because Derek went on to become a senior manager of venue merchandise. Not bad for a guy who craps in the woods.

  Chapter 7

  A Bump in the Road

  For the next few years, I was living a dream. Nothing could bring me down from the high I was on, doing what only a privileged few were able to do. In my mind, I could do no wrong. Not that I would ever tempt fate, it just wasn’t in my nature to push the envelope or rock the boat. Being a model employee (or independent contractor) was how my multiple duties were always approached. As with any job, you hope that your hard work doesn’t go unnoticed and I felt that my hard work was beginning to pay off. My bookings increased and Dave and Earl Hebner had taken me under their wing. The twins and I became travelling companions and they passed on their referee knowledge to me as we drove from town to town.

  I just remembered the very first time I met Earl Hebner. Dave had been a referee working for the WWF for several years while Earl was a referee for the National Wrestling Alliance, which was a rival promotion to the WWF. However, on February 5, 1988, both Dave and Earl would become the most famous referees in all of wrestling.

  The WWF was presenting, for the first time since the 1950s, a live wrestling event on network television. Up until this point, they produced a monthly special for NBC called Saturday Night’s Main Event. It was a replacement for Saturday Night Live once a month. This time, the WWF would be live in prime time and the main event for the broadcast was WWF champion Hulk Hogan defending his title against Andre the Giant. Andre was a villain and under the employ of the Million Dollar Man, Ted DiBiase. Dave was assigned to officiate this historic match.

  I was there that night glued to a monitor just like the entire roster. As we like to say, “The monitor was sold out! It was standing room only.” Now that I think about it, no one recalled seeing Dave Hebner all day. On the line-up sheet that listed the order of matches and who would referee each one, Dave’s name was listed next to the main event. Remembering that it was odd we had not seen him all day, I asked Pat Patterson if Dave was there. He told me that he was in fact there but was not feeling well and was resting so that he would be fine for his match later that night. I didn’t question Pat and just proceeded with my regularly scheduled work day.

  Now, back to the infamous match. Watching it unfold on the monitor, I couldn’t help but think to myself that Dave was looking a little slimmer and I remember remarking to someone that he looked like he had lost some weight and was looking good. As the match was coming to its conclusion, I turned around to get a drink at the beverage stand and lo and behold, who should I see leaning against the wall in the shadows watching the match, but Dave Hebner. I stared at him in astonishment. He smiled, put a finger to his mouth, and motioned shhhh! I nodded and turned back to watch the monitor to see what they were doing for the finish.

  Confusion set in as my mind worked hard to figure out what the heck was going on. Then it hit me like a Triple H sledge hammer shot. Dave had a twin brother who worked for the NWA — that had to be the ref in the ring. Different scenarios were now going through my mind as to how this would all unfold on television. Where were they going with this and was this a one-time deal for Earl? Not a single fan in the arena had any clue that the referee in the ring was in fact Earl. Most likely, many if not the majority of the boys didn’t realize who was actually the referee in the ring.

  Suddenly, the story became very clear. Andre attempted to pin Hogan and when the referee began to count, Hogan clearly lifted his shoulder well before the three count. After Hebner hit the mat for the three count, he called for the bell and awarded the title to Andre the Giant. At first, many thought that the finish was a mistake. They believed, and part of me did as well, that the ending to the match had not gone as planned. We all couldn’t have been more wrong. It had gone exactly the way it was supposed to. In all the commotion, I didn’t notice the real Dave Hebner slip out to the ring to confront his evil imposter. A brawl ensued, with Earl getting the better of his brother. Hogan then grabbed Earl, pressed him high over his head, and tossed him to the outside where he was to be caught by Andre, DiBiase, and Virgil. One problem though: the Hulkster threw Earl too far and the trio outside the ring could not catch the flying official. Earl landed on and damaged his shoulder, which required surgery. Of course, as far as I know, the WWF took care of all of his medical expenses. It was later revealed to fans that Ted DiBiase had paid someone to have plastic surgery to resemble Dave Hebner. They ran with that story for a while before finally letting the cat out of the bag and acknowledged that Earl and Dave were in fact identical twins.

  When Earl was healed from the injury, he was brought back as a full-time referee. That was when I got to know Earl and we quickly became friends. I can’t thank both Dave and Earl Hebner enough for all they have taught me not only about how to be a good referee but also how to conduct oneself in all areas of the wrestling business. Their mentoring proved to be invaluable to me and for that I am forever grateful. Thank you, Dave and Earl Hebner, for everything you did for me.

  So far, I had nothing to complain about regarding my wrestling career. I was having a pretty good run, until a problem developed with one of my bosses. Terry Garvin was the man in charge of assigning which referees and ring crews would work each event. He was the one who would send me the monthly schedule that listed all my bookings. We had a good rapport and I never sensed that there was any trouble brewing. Now I wish I could go into detail as to why this tension developed between him and me but sometimes there are matters that are best kept private. In my mind, this is one of those instances where I believe it is best not to go into specifics. One of the reasons why I choose not to give details is because Terry passed away years ago and therefore it would do no good to make an accusation that no one can defend. Also, I am trying to keep a positive tone. Okay, maybe not the entire book, but for the most part I’m trying to stay encouraging.

  This time in my WWF career was definitely the most difficult I had encountered up to this point. I found myself being booked far less than before. No longer was I booked for every TV taping. No longer was I booked for any house shows that were not drivable. In a nutshell, if there were any events that would require me to fly to the event, I was not booked. Although I was still in charge of the Toronto ring, the one that was stored in New Brunswick was a different matter. I found myself being phased out of my responsibilities for that ring and feared that my job was in jeopardy.

  The man who had originally hired me noticed that something was changing, and not for the better. Jack Tunney called me into his office in downtown Toronto one day to question me about why my duties had diminished so drastically. He closed the door and sat down behind his rather large desk. He then leaned forward and straight out asked what had happened, telling me not to lie to him. It was a very intimidating sight to see him lean forward and look me in the eyes while he spoke. I didn’t want to lie to Jack but at the same time I also didn’t want to divulge what had transpired between Terry and me. Again Jack asked what had happened, this time sounding sterner. I explained to Jack that with all due respect, it was a matter that I didn’t want to discuss and that hopefully it would all work itself out.

  When I looked at Jack’s face and his reaction to what I had just told him, there was this sense that he had an idea of what I was referring to. It was almost as if he already knew the circumstances surrounding my fall from grace. He told me he understood why I was reluctant to talk about it and that he would not press the issue any further. He also reassured me that as long as he was in command of the Canadian of
fice, I had nothing to worry about as far as working any Canadian dates. I thanked Jack for his understanding and his vote of confidence in me. I got up and shook his hand, and as I was walking out of his office, his parting words were to let him know if there was ever anything I needed to talk about, not to hesitate and to make sure I talk to him about it first. He also said not to trust anyone in this business. I thanked him again and left his office feeling a little better than when I had walked in, but still not too good about my future with the company going forward.

  With my drastically limited WWF schedule, there was now no choice; I had to find a second job. I was just not working enough for the WWF to make a decent living. It is a good thing I am of Greek heritage because to the Greeks, living with your parents is totally acceptable, at least until you are well into your 30s, so I had a long way to go before I needed to look for alternate living arrangements. I did have to look for a job that would not affect the times I would be working for the WWF. I did not want to give up the part-time ref/ring crew gig. Essentially, I needed a second part-time job to complement my existing part-time job. It might not have been the ideal situation I was looking for but I continued to dream.

  As luck would have it, my closest friend Tom Kellesis was working at our local beer store. In Ontario, you can only buy beer from a government-run liquor distributor. The LCBO is where you can buy wine, spirits, and select beer products. Brewer’s Retail, or the Beer Store, was where one would go specifically to buy beer. One Friday evening, my friend Tom was working the late shift. We were planning to go out to a nightclub after he was done. I would often go early to meet him at work. Tom would let me sit in the lunch room and hang out watching TV. On this Friday, the store was short-handed as two people had called in sick, and they were very busy.