Opiniones/discusiones/noticiones de lucha libre en general 2.0

WRESTLER'S COURT
During one trip overseas, I made a new friend. Well, maybe I'm using the term
"friend" loosely! I met a girl, and she was one I wished I had never met, spoke to, or
had any private interaction with, because of all the stress and grief she caused me
afterward.
One night after a show in England, I was with the boys at the hotel bar. I noticed
that a particular female had her eyes on me. (Can you really blame her?) This woman
was so into me, and made it so very obvious that one of my colleagues picked up on it.
Now this was not just any co-worker. This was the leader of the locker room, the
champ himself. It started to get late, so I threw down my ninja smoke bomb and
disappeared (aka, I very discreetly snuck out of the bar and snuck back up to my
room). I made my way to my room, undressed, and got comfortable in my bed. The
phone rang. I answered it. It was the champ. I thought I was going to get heat for
leaving without saying goodnight to everybody, but that was not the case.
CHAMP: "Hey JTG, hope you're not sleeping. I have a beautiful young lady that
wants to hang out with you."
ME: "Hey Champ, I'm actually in my bed and I'm exhausted. Are you referring to
the English chick in the red top?"
CHAMP: "Yup, she's on her way up to your room. I sent her up a few minutes ago!
Don't disappoint me and you're welcome!"
I was tipsy and exhausted. I laughed to myself. It seemed like I was waiting for a
delivery from DomiHOES, Booty-Hut or Little Skeezers (with a side order of peer
pressure). A few seconds later, I got a knock on my hotel room door.
ME: "Who is it?"
HER: (In a cute British accent) "Room service!"
It was 3:00am. I knew damn well it wasn't room service. Still unsure (and still
tipsy), I opened the door. There she was, the English chick in the red top. She let
herself in, we had very little small talk, and then this little English vixen got right to it.
She pushed me down on the hotel bed and began to have her way with me. It could
have been classified as rape, because I was obviously too tired (and too tipsy) to
defend myself. There is no doubt about it: she took advantage of a young, fresh-faced,
wide-eyed, innocent JTG. If you don't believe me I have no problem getting the rape

doll and reenacting what she did to me.
About an hour later, she left my room with a big smile on her face.
"Thank you for a good time. You take care now, okay handsome?" She shut the
door behind her as I laid across the bed, tipsy, exhausted, and victimized.
And I was a victim! That's my story, and I'm sticking to it! I would have pressed
charges, but she took all the evidence and my DNA samples with her! Giggity!
After a few months of mentally recovering from the scars of this sexual
misconduct, that night came back to haunt me. Before my night of debauchery in
Europe with the British babe, I had actually met her a few months prior. One of my
colleagues introduced her to me as "one of his road chicks." Are you asking what a
"road chick" is? It is a polite wrestling term for a groupie.
On the night she took advantage of me, I didn't even think about her association
to my co-worker. It never crossed my mind. (I guess it wasn't on her mind either,
judging by the way she performed.) But when my colleague, who I actually considered
to be a friend, found out about the situation, he was hurt. I'll never forget that fateful
Sunday night when he called me. He sounded like a sad little boy who had lost his
dog (no pun intended).
WRESTLING PAL: Hey Jay, what's up? You know [insert groupie name here]?
ME: Yeah, I know her.
WRESTLING PAL: Did you guys-
ME: Yeah, but she raped me!
WRESTLING PAL: I can't believe you, Jay! I told you that was my personal road
chick!
Uncomfortable silence.
WRESTLING PAL: Let's just talk tomorrow.
Upon reflection, I thought to myself: Self, a road chick is a groupie, right?
Right.
I then asked myself a follow-up question: Then isn't a 'personal groupie' an
oxymoron?
Why yes, Jay, it most certainly is.
I could not understand for the life of me why my wrestling pal was so hurt. If he
had such a serious relationship with the British babe, I honestly was not aware of it.
And why was he so mad at me, and not her?
When I got to work the next day, for some reason almost the whole locker room
knew I had a late night rendezvous with my colleague's "personal road chick." I
couldn't believe how fast this news had spread! Sometimes it could be so boring

backstage in the locker room that the boys would make a big deal out of nothing just
for their own entertainment. The news spread throughout the locker room, and it
seemed like the roster was choosing sides. The guys' opinions on the matter were
split. Some of them said I was a rat-wrecker, and some disagreed and said, no, that's
what groupies are for, and that one guy can't hog up all the groupie love. To make
matters even worse, my colleague's close friend was going around telling everyone
that I slept with his best friend's girlfriend! That was the version of the story that
eventually got to the top executives in the office.
This wasn't something I could be fired over, but it was a direct attack to my
character. The chatter went on for weeks and I just wanted it to stop. It got to a point
where something had to be done. My colleague decided that he wanted justice, and I,
on the other hand, just wanted the nightmare to end. Since we both needed a
resolution, he had me summoned to Wrestlers Court.
Forget the court shows you see on TV. Wrestlers Court is much worse. In
Wrestlers Court, the locker room is the jury, and a top guy is the judge. In our case, The
Dead Man himself was set to preside over our case as the Honorable Wrestlers Court
Judge. JBL acted as Prosecutor and represented my colleague. The day of the trial
(which was to be held before that night's taping of Monday Night RAW), I had to
scramble to find an attorney of my own. In addition to securing my wrestler
representation, I was also strongly advised to sway the court's decision by buying beer
for all the boys. Since things weren't looking good for me, I was also instructed to
purchase special liquor for JBL and The Deadman, in order to further help my cause.
Before arriving at the venue, I went to a liquor store and spent over $400 on
alcohol. To me, that was well worth the investment. I needed to win. If I lost this case, I
was going to be sentenced, and the verdict could have been deathly severe. The
punishment would have been something like carrying other wrestler's bags for months,
or not being allowed to change in the male locker room for a whole year, which are
things that may sound silly to an outside person, but, in reality, greatly inconvenience
the life of a wrestler.
That day before RAW, there was a lot going on. There was to be a fake funeral
service for Vince (his character had "died" a few weeks earlier), which meant hours
and hours of rehearsals for the entire roster. In the midst of preparing for that, I had to
find a credible lawyer. I was in a tough spot. Not many (if any) of the boys who I
thought were qualified enough to get me out of this mess wanted to defend me.
I finally got a little help from my buddy Armando Estrada. While we were in
catering, Armando pointed out to me an ECW Legend, who was sitting nearby reading
a newspaper.
Armando said, "Look! He's reading a newspaper. He's got to be smart! Ask him
to defend you."
Look. I know that merely being able to read a newspaper in no way makes one
qualified enough to be a courtroom attorney. But this wasn't real court, this was
Wrestlers Court. I didn't need a real lawyer. I just needed someone who was wellrespected
by the locker room to speak on my behalf.
I was desperate, so I took Armando's advice. I humbly asked the ECW Legend
to represent me in Wrestler's Court. Thankfully, he obliged. He said he was honored to
be my attorney, that he had a strong defense, and that he was excited to win the case.

Whew.
Throughout the day I saw my wrestling pal a few times. As he passed me in the
hallways, he said, "You're going down! " That definitely intimated me. I'll be honest; it
looked like the jury would most likely favor him. He had been around much longer than
me, and was really well-liked among the boys. All day guys kept asking me was I
ready."This is big, Jay," they would say. Others antagonized me by saying things like
"You should just quit now and get a job at Subway, make it easy on yourself!"
At one point, I even heard the Deadman cynically ask, "Where is this court case
taking place again?" This was really happening.
The time was getting closer to my court appearance, which was scheduled to
after the final rehearsal. The entire roster and WWE staff was called to sit in the stands
around the ring. I shit you not, my whole body went numb and I started sweating like
Kim Kardashian at church. Vince was out there, Stephanie, the guys from the
production truck who you hardly even see, writers, agents, Michael Hayes- everybody
you could possibly think of. They were all ringside.
I knew this story had become big in the locker room, but I didn't think the whole
company would be taking part. As the crowd got thicker and everyone was finding their
seat, the boys were looking at me like, "Oh, shit, you're in trouble now, JTG!" Even my
courtroom opponent looked shocked.
Finally, just when I thought we were about to begin, things took a different turn.
Something strange happened. One of the top guys in the company dropped to his
knees and began to cry. I didn't know what to think. But I did know that he clearly
wasn't crying for me like that. I was very confused.
A few moments later, Vince entered the ring and informed everyone that Chris
Benoit and his family had been found murdered in their home.
It was a shocking moment. Instantly, I had mixed emotions. Clearly, I was
deeply sad that someone I respected and idolized as a child growing up was
murdered. Certainly, I wish a less tragic incident could have disrupted my case. Of
course. Something like that should never happen, and it was mind-blowing and painful
that it happened to someone we were so close to and worked so closely with.
However, if I were to say that I didn't feel some tiny, little bit of relief that Wrestlers Court
wasn't happening...well, I would be lying.
When we left ringside, most of the boys were more shocked than anything. I
guess for me, having already dealt with the emotions of preparing for my trial, it hadn't
really sank in yet. When I finally got back to the locker room, I was told by several guys
how lucky I was that the trial was postponed. That postponement ended up being an
indefinite one, because that edition of Wrestlers Court never ever happened.
The day my trial was slated to happen, both the RAW and the Smackdown
rosters were all together as one locker room, because of the TV funeral that was to be
held for Vince. That gathering of the entire roster was the perfect setting for Wrestlers
Court. It was months before we were all scheduled to be together again, and by the
time it could happen, the excitement over me and the British road chick would long
since have faded.
Me and my buddy are cool now, and has he helped me a lot through the course
of my career. I'm glad we didn't let a rapist, aka the British rat, get between us.
The moral of this story is...well, Chris Brown said it best: "These hoes ain't loyal!"