Justin Roberts
Best Seat in the House
Your Backstage Pass Through My WWE Journey
Meyer & Meyer Sport (UK) Ltd.
CREDITS
Cover Design: Dave Bogart, Adam Mock, Andreas Reuel
Photo Pages Design: Dave Bogart
Cover Photo: Matt Roberts
Photos: Justin Roberts, Wrelano@aol.com, Matt Cardona
Typesetting: Sannah Inderelst
Copyediting: Liz Evans
Acquisition: Manuel Morschel
Ebook: Gregor Meisen
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Best Seat in the House
Maidenhead: Meyer & Meyer Sport (UK) Ltd., 2016
ISBN: 978-1-78255-115-7
All rights reserved. Except for use in a review, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means now known or hereafter invented without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book may not be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise disposed of by way of trade in any form, binding or cover other than that which is published, without the prior written consent of the publisher.
© 2017 by Meyer & Meyer Sport (UK) Ltd.
Aachen, Auckland, Beirut, Cairo, Cape Town, Dubai, Hägendorf, Hong Kong, Indianapolis, Manila, New Delhi, Singapore, Sydney, Tehran, Vienna
Member of the World Sport Publishers‘ Association (WSPA)
info@m-m-sports.com
www.m-m-sports.com
ISBN 978-1-78255-451-6
I am best known for my passion for professional wrestling and being the heart and soul of ECW. It is ironic that though Justin and I came from different areas of the country, are 10 years apart, and did different things to achieve our life goals (hell, the smartass nerd used to watch me on TV), we are so similar. We both come from a loving home where our parents, who had similar health issues, supported us in achieving our collective goals, and we also both have one sister. At times, we have shared a collective, immature brain, and most important, both of us have an insane love of professional wrestling. If there was ever a heart and soul of announcing, it would be Justin Roberts. He gave everything to his performance when he was out there in front of the crowd. He was on and amped for three-plus hours a night, every night, when he worked for WWE. In a 12-year career with WWE, Justin drove every mile, boarded every early flight, stayed in different hotels every night, worked while sick, and took a lot of crap from some wrestlers. He was in the trenches with the wrestlers. He gave his normal life up and had the greatest time doing it.
Most people would say that a ring announcer job is easy or it’s not important. On the contrary, it is the most important job. The announcer is the voice of the show, the grandmaster of ceremony. Without him, some debuting wrestlers would come out to no reactions. If a wrestler sounds important, he is perceived as important. An announcer sets the tone for the evening. In WWE, the performer’s job is to put smiles on faces, and the first spark of that smile and anticipation was Justin’s, “Good evening, [whatever town we were in],” and his “Your first match…” always got the people on their feet.
When reading this book, don’t look at it as another wrestling book; look at as reading a journey of someone who followed their dream, and use it as motivation to follow your own dream. Justin didn’t win a contest or get the job because he was doing something else in news media. This is what he wanted to do, and he paid his dues to get there. This book is an honest depiction of someone who had firsthand knowledge of the inner workings of the WWE, including his dealings with some not-so-friendly wrestlers that viewed him as an outsider and efforts to survive the political landscape in WWE. Justin sat in on production meetings before most shows. Several times, he performed at the grandest show of all, WrestleMania. There is a WWE Hall of Fame award and a foundation, Connor’s Cure, that wouldn’t have been happened if it weren’t for Justin Roberts.
I find it funny how he has so many pictures and videos of himself as a total geeky fan, trying to be cool hanging with the wrestlers. Well, this book could also be any movie where a geek becomes cool because Justin has caught the interest of many hot women and still lives a bachelor’s life (lucky bastard). I joke around with him for having the inability to love because he is a bachelor, but it’s his normal because he knows nothing different. That’s his dating, his courtship, and there is no normal in wrestling. I joke with him about the inability to love, but in hindsight, he loves his family, will do anything for his friends, and loves wrestling still to this day. (I can’t explain his weirdness for the Golden Girls or 1980s and 1990s TV sitcoms, but maybe he can in this book.)
I may be biased, but despite whatever was bothering me in WWE, once I went through that curtain and stepped out to perform in front of the WWE audience, I was at my happiest. The first person I saw was Justin, and his smile and general excitement to see me, even though he saw me all day, made me happier.
I hope you enjoy Justin Roberts’ journey. I’m happy to have been a part of it. As a wrestling fan who crossed over the guardrails, this should inspire the reader that if Justin can do it, so can you. If you have a dream follow it, and live life to its fullest. Every night, he had the best seat in the house in WWE because, quite simply, he was the best at what he did.
—Tommy Dreamer
Professional Wrestler, 1989 to present
They say there are two sides to every story. Not this one. This is not a creative writing piece. There is no ghostwriter. This is my story, based on the facts, through my well-documented journey. I never sold out arenas. Heck, I never even claimed to sell any tickets. I did, however, take a long ride on a crazy roller coaster known as the business of professional wrestling. This story is not meant to be a tell-all, nor is it meant to target anyone. It’s just my brutally honest story, and if it helps to make any positive changes in the world, or if it helps to inspire one of you or teach you something helpful that you may not have known, it will be worth it. I dedicate this book to my family, friends, fans, all my teachers, and everyone else in my path who helped shape me as a person, and to every performer who put their body on the line in the ring so I could have a job, as well as every performer who ever made me a fan. I hope you enjoy.
It was a brisk Chicago morning in the Northwest Suburbs junior high social studies classroom when Mrs. Mitsokopoulos popped in a videotape and sat down at her desk. The volume of the video immediately rose as high as possible, causing Mrs. Mitsokopoulos to rush over to the television and lower the sound back to normal. As she sat back at her desk, the volume lowered all the way down to the very bottom. She walked over to the television and slightly adjusted the volume back up. While returning to her desk, the volume went all the way up once again. Sure enough, as she tried to slightly lower the volume, the level dropped to the very bottom.
After realizing that a movie wasn’t going to work on this day, she proclaimed that the students would be presenting their current event articles to the class. A volunteer offered to start and stood sternly in front of his classmates to begin the presentation. Within 10 seconds, the class interrupted the student by standing up. An appalled Mrs. Mitsokopoulos immediately instructed the class to sit back down. As the student continued on to his second note card, the class once again stood in unison and began clapping. A perplexed Mrs. Mitsokopoulos looked around in awe at the unprecedented, possessed-like behavior taking place before her eyes. This classroom, however, was not haunted; it was just my social studies class. I was armed with a universal remote control watch and note cards that also served as cue cards to my classmates, instructing them to rise if they were enjoying the presentation and next to rise and applaud if they would like me to continue.
I always felt the need to entertain my classmates, to cheer people up, or to add some fun to serious and sometimes boring situations. My name is Justin, and on December 29, 1979, I was born to two extremely loving parents, the best sister a kid could ask for, wonderful grandparents, a great-grandma, aunts, uncles, and cousins.
My dad, a Vietnam Purple Heart recipient, was the third generation of the family scrap metal business. He took his grandfather’s company to a whole new level. Being a part of that business had been his dream since childhood, and he loved waking up early in the morning, getting on his truck and hustling. The super early start time would allow my dad to be home for his family in the afternoon and evenings.
My mom, who is a breast cancer survivor, was a former grade school teacher who left teaching to be a full-time mom once my sister and I were born. We were always her priority and could not have felt anymore love from another human being. I can’t say she had a nice home-cooked meal ready for my dad when he came home from work, because dad didn’t like the smell of cooking in the apartment. Carry-out or dining out usually fixed that, and she made incredible fish sticks, nuggets, macaroni, and cereal for my sister and me.
I enjoyed coming home early from kindergarten and watching Batman, The Munsters, and The Monkees and eating mom’s deep-fried food. She would also spend the summers taking my sister and me to water parks, go-kart tracks, mini-golf courses, and anything else you could think of. As years went on, a great evening was watching MacGyver, A-Team, The Fall Guy, The Cosby Show, Dynasty, Dallas, or Knots Landing with my family. When I was five, my sister began babysitting for me on Saturday nights. Over the years, we teamed up and babysit for various neighbors and discovered quality TV programming like Sisters, Amen, 227, Golden Girls, American Gladiators, Showtime at the Apollo, and then GLOW. Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling was unlike anything I had ever seen. Spike and Chainsaw, Mountain Fiji, Matilda the Hun, Hollywood and Vine…these ladies were nuts. Well, the bad guys were. Tina Ferrari, Little Egypt, and the good guys always overcame the evil in front of a small crowd at the Riviera hotel in Las Vegas. Sis and I were hooked on this show, which would lead right into Saturday Night Live on NBC. There were some weeks when SNL would be preempted for a wrestling show called Saturday Night’s Main Event. This was wrestling, like GLOW, but with guys and a huge audience. I recognized some of these larger-than-life superstars from the wrestling show that I had seen on tv one time at my cousin Gordie’s house. I remember seeing the Genius and Mr. Perfect causing trouble for Hulk Hogan. I didn’t know who any of these guys were, but they were strong, colorful characters and I wanted to see what would happen next. I just didn’t know how. I figured I’d have to wait until the next time SNL would be preempted.
I went to my grade school, kindergarten through sixth grade. I dealt with the usual daily shenanigans most kids deal with at some point—bullying, getting teased, you know. I had pretty ugly glasses, a mullet, big lips, and a big nose. I’m also Jewish, and there were only about six Jewish kids in the school, so kids weren’t shy about sharing their opinions on us. I didn’t have a ton of friends, but after seven years in the same school, I definitely had a handful of buddies and enough acquaintances to get by. Overall, there were a lot of good kids and very patient teachers who put up with a, I’ll admit, very annoying student. Luckily, I had my big sister to look out for me and teach me to be a caring, thoughtful person. She was a great role model for me. I had a pretty high voice when I was young, and most people who called our house telephone thought that I was her. I used that to my advantage at times and had full conversations with people as her.
My family, along with a few of our family friends, spent winter break of 1991 at the Grand Milwaukee Hotel in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, on what would become a life-changing trip. The hotel had a New Year’s Eve party for the adults, but, even better, a game room and indoor pool for the kids. My sister and our friends, Scott, Paul, Barry, and I were swimming in the pool, having a great time, when their friend Benjamin came running into the pool area. He was out of breath and very excited. “The Ultimate Warrior is here! The Ultimate Warrior is here!” I recognized the name from my casual WWF watching and knew exactly who that was. We jumped out of the pool and, throwing our towels on, ran up the stairs as fast as possible. Benjamin was young and had a hell of an imagination. We were a bit skeptical until there he was, standing right in front of us. A very large man with big, crazy hair and a denim jacket that contained cartoon images of himself, all muscled out. Wow. This was amazing. I had never seen a real-life wrestler before! There were just a few of us; it wasn’t like there was a crowded lobby by any means, so we asked him and the large gentleman with him who I assumed was also a wrestler for their autographs. Warrior told us, “After we eat.” The two gentlemen walked into the empty hotel restaurant and ate their meal as we eagerly, yet patiently, waited outside in the lobby. Just a little over an hour later, standing there in our wet swimsuits which were finally starting to dry off, they walked out. Warrior signed one autograph for a kid who had shown up but wasn’t with our group and left the hotel. The other man was very nice and signed for all of us. We asked his driver what the signature said, and he informed us that he was “the Texas Tornado” Kerry Von Erich of the legendary Von Erich family. We were happy to have seen both guys in person, but obviously were a bit disappointed in the Warrior for blowing us off.
I couldn’t wait to get home and tell the kids at school about meeting these two huge superheroes from TV in person! I found wrestling in the TV guide and tuned into WWF Superstars of Wrestling on Saturday morning and WWF Wrestling Challenge on Sunday that week. I was hoping to catch the Warrior or Tornado and I was successful. In the meantime, I got HOOKED. The larger-than-life wrestlers, the colorful characters like Paul Bearer and Brother Love, the storylines that tied them all together—these shows were amazing. I immediately began watching religiously. Saturday morning, Sunday morning, and then primetime wrestling on Monday nights. The characters were nothing like I had seen before. This wasn’t a movie with a Freddy Krueger-like bad guy. This was a television show with all sorts of characters battling it out. They were cool, fearless, weird, muscular, huge, tiny, magical—everything was covered. Most importantly, after meeting a couple of them, I knew they were real. People would always talk about wrestling as being “fake.” I remember watching my first WrestleMania when Jake “the Snake” Roberts battled Rick “the Model” Martel in a blindfold match. As Jake was putting on the blindfold, you could see his hand go up the mask and could tell that the blindfold was see-through! I still never questioned how real it was, and, honestly, I never cared. Movies are not real, and I am entertained by movies. I was just as entertained by this, and it became my escape from reality. I lived for watching wrestling from week to week. I got picked on at school, but at the end of the day, all I wanted to do was go home and watch wrestling tapes, read wrestling magazines, play with my wrestling figures, and play wrestling video games. I loved wrestling and couldn’t get enough of it.
My friend Adam was a wrestling fan and he had a family friend who was a promoter. I had no idea what a promoter was, but it translated to Adam getting free tickets when WWF came to the Rosemont Horizon in Chicago. They only came maybe twice a year and Adam would always tell me that there was possibly a chance I could go with him and his family. Well, on April 14, 1991, the opportunity arrived and he invited me (or I begged and invited myself) to go with his father and sister to the matches. I remember being in the car and staring at the Rosemont Horizon, sticking my head out the window and yelling back into to the car, “Wow! Hulk Hogan is inside that building!” We picked our tickets up at the box office Will Call window where his promoter friend left them for us and walked in to see Jimmy “Superfly” Snuka battling IRS and then Tugboat against the Warlord. Bret Hart took on the Barbarian, and I really wanted him to hand me his sunglasses, but that was usually for someone in the front row. Ricky Steamboat wrestled Haku; the Mountie wrestled the Big Boss Man; Legion of Doom fought the Nasty Boys; Ted DiBiase took on Virgil; and the main event was Hulk Hogan battling Sgt. Slaughter!
I was on top of the world. I had the time of my life that night and the next day, I decided that I wanted to be a wrestler and began coming up with possible names for myself. Jake, I liked that name. Harris, I liked that as a last name. Jake Harris…Jake “the Rake” Harris…I would carry a rake to the ring! I would spend my time daydreaming about being a wrestler, running down that aisle, slapping high fives, and signing autographs. My school notepads would consist of my autographs and logos for the Texas Tornado, Mr. Perfect, and the Million Dollar Man. All I could ever think about seven days a week, 24 hours a day was wrestling.
My cousin Duke was a Chicago police officer. On his off days he would work security at the Horizon. He always told me that he could get me backstage and that one of these days he would take me. At a family get-together we were talking wrestling. He saw how obsessed I was and said that he would bring me backstage for WWF the next time they were in town. My hopes were way up, and he came through. My dad bought tickets from the ticket broker at three times the price to land fifth-row seats for my mom, sister, and me. My dad had to be up too early for work to come with us. I watched in amazement as the Undertaker and Paul Bearer (walked to the ring by Chicago cops, including Cousin Duke) passed by me as I was right on the aisle. The security guards all lined up and held hands as the Ultimate Warrior ran to the ring. During intermission, Duke brought us behind the curtain. There was “Hacksaw” Jim Duggan and Kerry Von Erich—all the WWF wrestlers who were on the walls of my room just standing around right in front of me. And there was the Ultimate Warrior. I would finally get my autograph from the guy who was instantly one of my favorites due to his total dominance in the ring. Okay, well, I got lots of autographs and pictures, just not from Warrior. He ignored me when I called out his name and walked away. Maybe he didn’t hear me. I was still determined to meet him a third time, but this time I wouldn’t let him get away! All of those wrestlers on this night were awesome—Big Bossman, Marty Jannetty, “Hacksaw” Jim Duggan, and even the evil manager, Mr. Fuji. I got to meet everyone, and this made me love wrestling even more!
I collected and played with the WWF Hasbro action figures. Anytime I saw new figures in the WWF magazine, I would immediately start calling my local toy stores. The pictures came out way before the figures, so I would call daily. Literally. A nice kid named Chris at Toys“R”Us used to keep an eye out for me and let me know when the figures came in, but I had to have every one of them so it was a never-ending task. I would go home and sit on my floor where I had my Hasbro wrestling ring surrounded by my Hot Wheels car collection. The cars served as my audience for the action figures who would go into the ring and wrestle and then come through the curtain (fabric scraps from art class or even my sister’s pom-poms) to the backstage area where they would all talk, just like at the Horizon. I played with my wrestling figures from the time I got home from school until it was time to go to sleep. Once in a while, I’d go across the street to my friend Louie’s and shoot hoops or play Genesis, but playing with my wrestling figures allowed me to enter a world of my own. Without even knowing it, I was expanding my world of imagination. I was a wrestling promoter booking matches and feuds both in the ring and backstage. I was announcing the matches in my head. I was constantly redesigning the arena which existed in the corner of my bedroom. Whenever I would go downstairs, I would always run out of my room, through the hallway and down the stairs, pretending I was in a wrestling arena and slapping high fives along the wall and down the stairway railing while making my entrance into the ring. Quite the imagination I had, and truly an obsession as well.
While growing up in suburban Chicago, wrestling consumed my interests, but I also loved watching the Bulls games. We had Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen, Horace Grant, BJ Armstrong, John Paxson, Bill Cartwright, and Dennis Rodman, to name a few. Watching the incredible battles they had with rivals such as the Pistons, Knicks, and Celtics was amazing. I’ll never forget the night I went with my dad to grab dinner at a pizza place I frequented in the Town & Country Mall called Garibaldi’s. Mr. Garibaldi, who I had never met before, was actually there that night. After we ordered our food, he approached me and asked if I had finished my homework for the night. I had. He asked if I was a good kid. I thought so. He told us that he had four tickets for that night’s Bulls game, and if it was okay with my dad, they would be ours. Despite having to be up early for work, he took me and a couple of neighbors to see the Bulls! I had a blast, and I never forgot what that felt like—having a random stranger do something so kind.
Our neighbors enjoyed the game, and I was glad that they got a treat as well. My neighborhood was really perfect, made up of friendly, genuine, caring people. Unfortunately, I was somewhat of a pain. I was the kid you didn’t want living next door. I had a drum set that I played very loudly and not very well. I tried lessons over the years but didn’t have the patience to get through playing the bells and working my way up the actual drums. I would take a small but powerful speaker and play music from my stereo out the window (at times telling the neighbors that it wasn’t a tape of “Ice Ice Baby” or “Rico Suave,” but rather the artists were in my room performing live). I had a strobe light that I’d put in my window, an emergency red police light, and anything else I could think of to “provide entertainment” for my neighbors. I’d spend much of my allowance money or money that I made from shoveling and snow-blowing driveways on microphones, amplifiers, and speakers from Radio Shack. Totally normal, right? I always, even up till now, felt like I was responsible for entertaining people, cheering them up, or helping them feel better. At the time, I meant well, but I was definitely seen as the annoying kid in the neighborhood. I had a lot of creative ideas. Once, I got my sister to chip in with me and throw my parents a huge 14th anniversary surprise party. All their friends, neighbors, and family came together and we all celebrated, not the 10th, 15th, or 20th, but the big 14th.
In my spare time, I would call in to the radio station Hot 102.3. I would make friends with all the DJs, like JoJo Martinez, and constantly win their hot 9-at-9 contest for free Domino’s pizzas. I made them crazy, but I got to be on the air! When I wasn’t harassing those poor DJs, I was in school, not really playing sports (I tried football, but I didn’t know the difference between offense and defense. I tried basketball and even wrestling, using moves I saw on TV), and going to Hebrew School three days a week. It’s not like Spanish class where you learn the language; you just go there and learn how to read Hebrew but not translate or speak the language. You go three days a week for a number of years, and then when you turn 13, you get to read some Hebrew for your friends and family at the Bar Mitzvah—the huge party that signals you’re finally a “man”—and make bank in presents. Well, I got kicked out of class on average two times a week. I brought Playboys to Hebrew School in second grade. My dad’s friend got an accidental double subscription, so he’d given me the doubles. Brandi Brandt from the October 1987 issue is where it all began with “my” subscription. I got in trouble for bringing them to Hebrew School. Adam, who I only knew through Hebrew School, got kicked out for bringing a blowup doll to class dressed in a “sexy senior citizen” shirt, and each week we would get thrown out for talking too much or arguing with the teacher. I’d be impressed if any of those teachers continued teaching after that year with Adam and me. We were bored and made our own fun—it just didn’t go over too well with the teachers.
My friend Anna, who I met on the last day of overnight camp one summer, was in a TV show called The Torkelsons. I had never known a celebrity before and was always fascinated by entertainment and learning about the real life of actors. The idea of fame seemed amazing—getting recognized, signing autographs. I was so curious to learn about that world. Anna and I would write letters back and forth, and I never missed her show. She played one of the cousins in the Home Alone movies and invited me to the Home Alone 2 world premiere! This was a red carpet event that featured most of the cast, a screening of the movie before it was released, and an after-party. It was at this after-party where I got to play skee ball with Macaulay Culkin, who I liked because I had seen him on TV at WrestleMania 7. Knowing he was a wrestling fan, I told him that Saturday Night’s Main Event was on while we were there, and there was a title change in the British Bulldog vs. Shawn Michaels match. I loved his movies and couldn’t believe we were having a casual conversation. I realized right there that talking wrestling was my favorite thing to do, and it could bring people together from different places in life. He is a celebrity, yet I’m talking to him like he’s my buddy because we both spoke the language of wrestling. Now everything in my world was slowly starting to revolve around pro wrestling.
When I graduated junior high, my grandma took my cousin Gordie and me on a Disney trip. We would spend half the week at Disney World and theme parks and the other half on the Big Red Boat cruise ship. I couldn’t just take a trip and enjoy it, though. I had to figure out what sort of wrestling would be in Florida, and I happened to hit the jackpot. I discovered that Hulk Hogan would be signing his WCW contract at MGM Studios the week that I would be in Florida for the trip. WCW, or World Championship Wrestling was the rival organization to Vince McMahon’s World Wrestling Federation. It was owned by Ted Turner and run by Eric Bischoff. When my favorite wrestlers disappeared from WWF with no mention of their departure, it was usually in WCW where they would magically appear once again. I had been watching WCW for a while at this point and with Hulk Hogan coming in, I knew their shows were definitely in for a change. We chose the itinerary that would have us at the parks on the day Hogan would be there, and of course I begged my grandma and cousin to go to MGM Studios on the right day. When we got to the park, not one employee had any idea about where Hulk Hogan was going to be. We spent the day at MGM, and right when I was ready to give up hope, I stumbled upon the area where the Hulkster would parade down to his contract signing. The scene was filled with random onlookers who had no idea how huge this event was. WCW reps were handing out Hogan signs and merchandise, but the actual fan couldn’t get anyone’s attention. My grandma and cousin patiently waited as I watched the entire parade and ceremony. I noticed Hulk’s wife and kids along with legendary announcer “Mean” Gene Okerlund! When it was finished, I waved down a man in a suit and Hulk Hogan tank top. It was Eric Bischoff, the guy running WCW! I’m 14 years old, and of all things to ask, I asked him for a Hulk tank top! He could have easily laughed at me. He could have easily told me no. But he didn’t. He told me to hang on. When he came back, his Hulk Hogan tank top was off his back and in his hand to give to me. That was a moment.
When I was 15, I couldn’t just watch wrestling, I wanted to be a wrestler. I lived for wrestling; 24/7 that’s what was on my mind, and I loved the idea of this world of make-believe. I would go to Blockbuster Video every weekend and rent Coliseum Home Video wrestling tapes and even watch the same ones over and over. I was still playing with my wrestling figures. My imagination would run wild, booking storylines and matches. Is it normal for a 15-year-old high school kid to still play with his wrestling figures? Probably not, but until I could play in a real ring, this was my only option. That got me to thinking, how can I pursue this dream? I actually looked in the yellow pages, but the pro-wrestling section wasn’t there. Nowadays, you can find anything on the Internet, but in those days, the Internet could only take you so far. Websites were just starting to come out, and you could send emails, but only if you knew the exact address of a recipient.
Since I couldn’t let my fingers do the walking, I began going to the hotels near the Rosemont Horizon when WWF would come to town. For years, I’d hang out near the hotel bar and that’s where I could get pictures, autographs and even record videos on my video camera. I would have a list of questions that the guys would usually answer for me: “What was the worst injury you ever sustained?” Al Snow answered, “A broken heart.” I would ask Savio Vega if he knew where Kwang (Savio was Kwang under a mask) was. I was young and did not have quality, well-thought-out questions. I just needed an excuse to talk to my heroes.
My cousin Duke was no longer working at the matches, so I discovered this as my way to meet everyone. I’d also stand out back of the Horizon and watch everyone pull up to the arena. I loved the adventure, waiting for a Ford Taurus or Lincoln Continental to pull up and running over to see who it was. Those were typically the rental cars that the wrestlers would drive into town. Once I saw a huge guy step out with a satin “Ribera” jacket. I knew it was definitely a wrestler, and I ran over. I loved watching the matches live, but that was never enough. I always wanted to see what I could get away with. Instead of watching the action in the ring, I’d watch the curtain above the main curtain where guys would peek out and watch the show. Who could I talk to? What information could I find out? I was never able to sit back, relax, and enjoy. I was always thinking ahead and trying to figure out how the whole machine operated. I would watch the road agents—the former wrestlers in charge at these shows. One of these agents, Rene Goulet, was once introduced to me by a security guard. He told Rene that I was a very big fan and always came to all the matches. Rene said the next time they came back, he would take me backstage and introduce me to the guys. The next two times WWF was in town, I eagerly looked out for Rene, but he wasn’t there. Finally, nearly two years later, Rene was back! Unfortunately, he laughed at me when I told him what he had promised, as if the conversation had never happened.
When I was a freshman in high school, I met Vince McMahon, the man who ran WWF and blew it up to a new level after taking it from his father. The event was captured on Chicagoland Television News, and I still have the clip to this day. It was the 1994 SummerSlam charity softball game the weekend of WWF’s big event at the United Center. The wrestlers played against Chicago media personalities. I stood along the fence and held up my Undertaker shirt for Vince to sign. He came over, and I asked him if Chicago would be getting Radio WWF. That was a radio show that could be heard in several markets where they talked about WWF, and, clearly, I needed an additional outlet to TV and WWF magazine. He explained that they were working on it, but I had already figured out how to get it on my own. When you called in on the 1-800-number to ask questions or take part in the contests, you were put on hold where you were able to listen to the show. I would call in and sit on hold to listen. They took my call a few times, and I made up questions for the wrestlers on the show. I also played a game of “Out-Think the Fink” where WWF human encyclopedia and ring announcer Howard Finkel would answer questions. I asked him to name the number on the back of Nailz’s uniform, and he did not know that it was 902714, so I won a T-shirt…that never came to me. On this day, I met the Fink and told him I did not receive my T-shirt. He took my address, and a week later, I got my green “I out-thinked the Fink” T-shirt! I wonder how many other kids didn’t get their prize and found Howard in person to ask for it?
Luckily, Howard came through for me, but I learned about disappointment pretty early on from experiences with the Warrior and Rene Goulet. I figured I would have to find my own way in, and it wasn’t going to be easy. I was at the hotel bar one night when both WWF and WCW wrestlers were all staying at the same place. This was amazing. Rival organizations both in the same bar at the same time! Well, it turned out that the guys who had all worked with each other at some point in their careers were all friends and glad to be reunited. With their tour schedules, they never got to see each other, and this was a very rare moment. During my all hotel visits for shows, never were both companies in the same place at the same time. I had a video camera with me and spent nearly an hour talking with “Lord” Steven Regal from WCW. He was really friendly and incredibly patient with me. He knew I was a fan and took the time to answer all of my questions, and I had a lot of them. Not only that, but I went two nights in a row, and he talked to me both nights. There weren’t too many wrestlers that I had noticed taking the time to talk with a curious high school kid, especially because this was their time to relax and enjoy some free time on the road.
Because I read everything I could on the subject, I thought I had a pretty good grasp on wrestling. I was on a cruise with my family in the middle of the ocean when I saw a kid who had to be about twelve swimming while wearing a Bret Hart T-shirt. He obviously loved wrestling as well. Just to mess with him, I told him that I was Bret Hart’s cousin. He immediately doubted me and asked me some extremely simple Bret Hart trivia: “What’s his brother’s name?” He was shocked when I told him that Bret had more than the one brother he knew from TV. I had him convinced, although again I don’t know why I would even make this up. This wasn’t even a funny joke; it was just an outright lie—which was odd for someone who was always honest. Moments later, my parents were talking to his parents. Out of everyone on this boat in the middle of the ocean and anywhere in the world, the kid’s father had designed the boxer shorts that we gave out at my Bar Mitzvah, and they were from my town in Illinois. Karma.
My dad—who looked very intimidating to those who didn’t know him well—had a great sense of humor. However, just like it was uncharacteristic for me to tell this kid Craig that I was Bret’s cousin, after telling my dad the story about Bret, my dad added to the situation by telling Craig that Bret would be coming on the cruise ship that night. Craig was ecstatic! My dad told him that he would be on the boat at midnight in the theater. So, at midnight, in the theater…Craig stood there wearing his still-wet Bret Hart shirt, hat, and sunglasses along with his video camera in hand.
I walked in laughing hysterically and told him that Bret wouldn’t actually be able to make it, which he took okay. We ended up talking wrestling for the rest of the cruise and for the unforeseen future. Craig and I would talk wrestling daily and go to various shows and wrestler appearances together. He became like a little cousin to me.
On one of our adventures, I met Aldo Montoya, who was previously been known as PJ Walker and later on would become Justin Credible. He was 19 when he started and had finally caught his break after being used as enhancement talent for a while. Enhancement talent is a term that describes the guys who were put in a match solely to make the wrestling star look good. I figured he was a guy who could relate to me being young but serious about becoming a wrestler. He told me to call his friend Tony. He wrote his name, Tony’s name, and Tony’s number on a notecard. That Monday, I went to a payphone at my high school with a pocket full of quarters and called Tony in New York. He didn’t answer, so I left a message on his answering machine. He didn’t call back, so a few days later, with a pocket full of quarters, I went to the payphone and called him again. No answer, no call back. I continued to call every week until I finally caught him. I think it’s safe to say that this is where I began to learn that persistence pays off.
“Hi, Tony. My name is Justin. I got your number from Aldo Montoya/PJ Walker, and I want to be a wrestler. I don’t want to be one of those guys that loses every week, but I want to be a superstar like Bret Hart.” Well, Tony explained how wrestling works as far as needing training. I was in high school in Chicago; he was in New York. We talked a few times, and I realized training with him in New York wasn’t going to be practical. I couldn’t drop out of school and move out there. Most important, I could look in the mirror and know that I did not look like a wrestler, so I had to start thinking realistically. I had also learned from talking to the wrestlers I had met at the hotel that while wrestling wasn’t necessarily “real,” that did not mean it was fake. The guys were not going out there intending to hurt each other, but it was more physical than people realize. Every time they go in the air, they have to land on wooden boards sittting on steel with little padding. While I loved wrestling, maybe getting in the ring to wrestle wasn’t the right fit for me.
I found out shortly after my call with Tony that he was Tony Devito—a wrestler who I had seen on TV for years and, as I put it in our first conversation, “one of those guys that loses every week.” Whoops. I felt horrible about that, but I think he understood. I was young and just a big fan, but as much as I knew about wrestling, I was ignorant of the business, or maybe just uneducated. Tony was always patient and very kind to me. He was another victim of my endless questions but always took the time when I called to talk wrestling. I was happy for him when he had a solid run in Extreme Championship Wrestling (ECW) as one half of the popular “Da Baldies” tag-team.
I had a group of wrestling friends who I would watch the monthly pay-per-views with and discuss wrestling on a daily basis. Bryan, Mike, Larry, and Dave were the regulars. Dave Prazak was brought into the group and had legitimate knowledge of the wrestling business. He was like an icon to us because of his experience, and he even knew some wrestlers as he worked with independent wrestling promotions and wrote a wrestling newsletter called, Outside Interference. He even had a book of…wrestler’s phone numbers! This group of guys brought me to a whole new level as a fan. They helped me learn inside terms and find out what was going to be happening within the business. I also discovered wrestling hotlines and newspaper articles filled with wrestling rumors. Some resources were accurate, some not so much. On top of all of this, Dave also introduced me to independent wrestling-the minor leagues which I knew nothing about. We would take trips to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, for Mid-American Wrestling and even went as far as Detroit, Michigan, for a show called Motor City Wrestling that included future stars such as Rhino, Edge, and Christian.
I signed up with a casting company to do “extra” work because I wanted to be in movies. I stood in the background of Soul Food, at one point walking near Vivica Fox. I walked across a street in Only the Lonely, which allowed me to talk to John Candy, Anthony Quinn, and Maureen O’Hara. I sat in a crowd and watched Shaquille O’Neill play basketball. I walked across a street again in I Love Trouble and met Nick Nolte, I walked through an airport in Sleepless in Seattle, and I waved to Al Franken as I—you guessed it—walked down the street for a scene in Stuart Saves His Family. The best part, though? I was once called to be an extra as a wrestling fan for AWF TV tapings. I got paid to go to a wrestling show. The promotion was syndicated for a short time and featured tons of wrestlers that I had watched in WWF over the years like Hercules, Tito Santana, Greg Valentine, Sgt Slaughter, Koko B Ware, and many more. It was at this show that I met photographer Blackjack Brown who had been around the business for a long time and was actually friends with some of the WWF wrestlers. We wrote letters back and forth, and sometimes he would even send me shots that he took at WWF and WCW shows.
As wrestling began to grow, WWF raised the bar with their Monday night program called Monday Night RAW, which took over for WWF Prime Time Wrestling. WCW started a Monday night show to compete with them. Shortly after, WCW’s Monday night show Nitro was in Chicago on October 9, 1995. I worked my way down to the front row, and I got to enjoy the show and even get on camera a couple of times, which was awesome. I was holding a videotape that I made for Marc Mero. Mero was one of the first wrestlers to communicate with fans over the Internet, which was just starting to become popular. We were using an online message board called RSPW which was short for rec.sport.pro-wrestling. Many fans who went on to contribute to the business later took part in RSPW, from writers to managers to wrestlers. Mero, who was known in WCW as Johnny B Badd, would throw a Frisbee out before his matches and shoot a confetti gun. One night on the WCW Saturday Night show, he held up his Frisbee and flipped it over to reveal “RSPW,” which was a shout-out to the fans on there. I had gotten his email address from RSPW and emailed him around the same time, and he wrote back! I thought that was kind of him and wanted to give him something but did not know what. So I edited a videotape of his entrances from various pay-per-views set to his entrance music. Cheesy? Yes. But I was 15 and meant well. I held up that tape all night hoping to eventually get it to him, but he was not there that night. I did meet Diamond Dallas Page after the show by the backstage exit, who was kind enough to take the tape and give it to Mero.
On top of reading RSPW for all wrestling news and stories, I was a loyal subscriber to WWF magazine. And just like I couldn’t strictly watch a live show, I couldn’t strictly read the magazine. I was looking at the credits to see what I could figure out. I recognized one name, WWF ring announcer Howard Finkel. Since he was listed in the magazine, I had to assume the printed phone number to the offices was also a number that the man I once “outthinked” could be reached. I went to school with my pocket full of quarters and dialed the Stamford, Connecticut, number. When the receptionist answered, I politely asked for Howard Finkel. There was a pause. A click. A ring. And then there was that distinct voice that I recognized from television. I froze and quickly gathered my thoughts. “Hi, Howard, my name is Justin from Chicago.” I would call Howard numerous times throughout the year and ask him about the various rumors I would hear from my friends and these other sources. “Is it true the Bushwhackers are going to WCW?” Howard would always take my call, even knowing that it was “Justin from Chicago” on the phone. In our last conversation at that point in time, Howard said, “Justin, I’m sure our paths will cross again in the future.”
I gave Howard a break as I started gaining even more interest in the business side of wrestling. I’d always be a fan, but how could I get in now? I knew I that being an actual wrestler wasn’t the route for me. I’d love to become a manager—that’s easy, right? Run around the ring and scream at the wrestlers and fans. A ref? Easy way to get in the ring, and anyone could do it, right? Those were two positions that I assumed (and I was way off) were easy. As I would discover, just like becoming a wrestler, you had to train for these positions.
During all of my classes, I would sit and ponder a wrestling journey. I especially did this a lot during Ms. Glass’ class. She was awesome, plus we watched a lot of movies—good movies, not the educational ones—mostly John Cusack movies, because he was her favorite. I also knew she was laidback and appreciated my sense of humor. She would have us read stories aloud and would call on various students to read a paragraph. Every time she called on me, I would read a paragraph in a different voice. Mrs. Doubtfire, Latka, SNL voices, anything I had in my repertoire. Most voices were inspired by SNL’s Dana Carvey. I idolized him and his Church Lady character. I spoke like the Church Lady for most of my childhood. My teachers Mrs. Wituckee and Mrs. Malis could vouch for that. I knew every episode of SNL from the first to the last act and what songs the musical guest would perform. I also mocked their impersonations while reading aloud in Ms. Glass’ class. I guess this is why I would get called on to read every other paragraph. Of course, I never minded it.
I loved to make my class laugh. In each class, I knew exactly how much I could get away with and how far I could push each teacher. I would raise my hand and reference an episode of Saved by the Bell. “Excuse me, Mrs. R, I don’t think we should have to take this test today.” There was this one episode of Saved by the Bell where they had a substitute teacher, and the sub had everyone rip up the tests and give him the grade they thought they deserved. “Can we just tell you what grade we think we deserve?”
“It’s really nice out. Can we have class outside today?”
“There’s a new episode of Tempest today. Can we please watch that?” “Did you ever see that episode of Full House where…?”