“Russo’s Road Stories” Vol. 4: The Night Double J Beat My Ass

[thedarkness214]

There’s many facets to getting a degree in professional wrestling, and one of them is getting your @$$ kicked! Being a part of the wrestling business, on the inside of it, is comparable to waking up every day and going to school. There is always something to be learned, and unless you were enrolled at one time or another, you could never TRULY understand. No matter how much you think you know . . . . you don’t.

My schooling was endless, no matter how many years I was in – 23 years to be exact – there was always something that I didn’t know, that I had to be taught, even if it meant that my adult education was going to come the hard way.

This particular story stems from a writing session at Jeff Jarrett’s house early on in the inception of TNA, around 2002 – early 2003. At that time, I believe the booking committee consisted of me, Jeff Jarrett, and “Dirty” Dutch Mantel (aka Zeb Colter) with referee Rudy Charles taking the notes of the meeting and adding his thoughts along the way.

When I look back at those early times in TNA, I honestly wish I would have appreciated them more. With Jeff, Dutch and Rudy, it was just so simple. Yes, there were times when I would get frustrated with Dutch, as I’m sure he would me, because he was much more old school then I was, but I respected the hell out of him, and still do to this day. There was never any arguing in those days – just passion-filled discussions. How TNA went from that simple creative format to what it would eventually turn into, forcing my resignation almost three years ago, is mind number. And with all the change, and all the money WASTED, the investment spent did not warrant the results.

During this time, I was really down on the work of some of the boys. Now, you have to understand what a slippery slope it is when the writer crosses that line into the wrestling. That’s why I rarely did. Go back and see, through history, those that were a part of TNA who have belly-ached publicly about my creative – and how many times publicly, or privately, I said anything negative about their in-ring work – I just didn’t go there. I felt it was disrespectful, because even though I had taken bumps in wrestling school and at WCW, I wasn’t a wrestler, and I fully realized that. However, at this particular point, I just felt some of the in-ring action was looking “overly” fake.

So, as I always did, I said something. When I felt that we needed to improve on something, no matter who I was working with – or for – I said something.

In the meeting, I spoke up about the work, and I questioned why it couldn’t be more “snug”. To put it simply, I didn’t understand why the guys couldn’t “really” hit each other without actually hurting each other. These guys were professional wrestlers, and their job was to make their craft look as believable as possible.

When I brought up issues concerning actually wrestling, I knew it would piss Jeff Jarrett off. Maybe because part of him thought I was right, but, primarily because I was crossing the bounds into his territory. But also, keep in mind, it was a two-way street. As a wrestler, Jeff at times thought he knew everything there was about creative, but in all due respect, he didn’t. Why? Because he was a wrestler and that was his education in being brought up in the business.

As things would turn out, a couple of weeks later Jeff and I were “booked” to have a wild brawl at the Asylum on pay-per-view. It was a weekly ppv “back in those days” – remember those days? In preparing for this fight, I really began to work out hard, just doing cardio in hope of not losing my wind too fast. Remember, I was into my forties at that point and I hadn’t been called on to deliver physicality like this in a while. So I went hard on the treadmill about an hour a day, for maybe 2-3 week. Looking back now – what a FREAKIN’ JOKE! Jeff Jarrett had been training his entire life as a wrestler and in my feeble mind, I believe that I’m going to hang with him after two weeks of walking on a treadmill.

The night came, and just like years prior when I had a cage match with Ric Flair at the Phillips Arena in Atlanta, the only thing I cared about was not making JEFF look bad. That’s it – that’s all that went through my mind. Now, based on the little experience in the ring that I did have, I understood one thing – if you really don’t attempt to at least “somewhat” lay it in, the end result could resemble a REALLY bad, fake wrestling match. And that’s what I didn’t want. That’s what I had actually been accusing the talent of up until that point. So, in my nimble mind, I was going to “fight” Jeff Jarrett.

So here we go. Jeff is in the ring cutting a promo, and out of nowhere, I hit and take him down HARD. I tackle Jeff to the mat with all I’ve got. The both of us roll out and I’m nailing Jeff with body shots. Jeff gets the upper hand on me and walks off for a second. Here’s the hysterical thing – at this point, I’m already winded!

I can’t get my breath. The treadmill thing didn’t work out the way I expected. So, as I’m sucking wind, I believe that Jeff comes back with a chair. Now remember – none of this was laid out. It was totally improvised. I knew where and how the fight would end up, but that was it.

So, again, from what I can remember, Jeff wallops me with the chair. Now, to me, Jeff really “looks” pissed, but I’m not sure if he is because this IS wrestling. Anyway, Jeff just continues the assault. At this point, I’m thinking – I’ve got to make my way back to the other side of the arena because either one of two things is going to happen – I’m either going to have a heart attack…or…Jeff is going to kill me!

So I get to my feet and start making my way to the back of the Asylum. Jeff is following me the whole way, beating my !@#$%. Finally, we get to the spot – Jeff now hog ties me to a beam above my head, where I can’t protect myself now. At that point, as I’m defenseless, he continues his barrage. Honestly, I can’t exactly remember what type of a weapon Jeff was nailing me with…but…I do remember that he was giving me the beating of my life – as a shoot.

Now, I don’t want to sound like a sissy-Mary, but at this point, I want this to be over. Unfortunately, Jeff doesn’t! So . . . he continues.

This video does exist somewhere in YouTube land. I remember because we all watched it together at a later creative meeting. There is a point in the end where you can see the expression on my face, and I’m clearly saying: “WHAT THE F*** ARE YOU DOING? OK – I GET IT – I WILL NEVER QUESTION THE IN-RING WORK AGAIN.”

And, I didn’t – not for a long time anyway.

I remember it finally being over and walking to the back and just crumbling down against the cold, cement wall. My friend Jeff had just beaten the !@#$% out of me. At 40+ years old, I had never received an @$$ whoopin’ like that from anybody – not even my own father when I was a kid. Jeff never even came up to me afterward, never said a word – because he wanted to make a point of letting his actions speak. And they did.

I was never mad, or bitter, or held a grudge towards Jeff after that, simply because I understood why he did what he did. I wanted the wrestling to be “snug”, so Jeff himself showed me what “snug” was. He took me to school and taught me a lesson I’d never forget. But, you know what? At that time, I needed it because I really didn’t understand.

That night, I drove home from the Asylum in Nashville to my home in Atlanta – about a 3 hour jaunt. All the way home I thought about what Jeff did, and why. When I got home my wife Amy was asleep. I think I just crashed on the couch. I woke up the next day sore as heel, but what did I expect?? I just got my clock cleaned about 6 hours ago. I went upstairs to take a shower and I took me shirt off. My entire upper torso was covered in bruises. I remember my wife Amy walking in and seeing that. Her reaction was to just break down and cry. She could not believe that my writing career had turned into that.

I’ll never forget that night – ever. However, I fully realize that without those types of lessons, given by those who perhaps loved the wrestling business – perhaps more than their own families – I would have never acquired the respect that I had for every man and woman who dedicated their lives to it.

And for that, I will be forever grateful to my friend, Jeff.

[Juan]

Chlorophyll? More like BOREophyll

[SlickyTrickyDamon]

Rock R-O-k?

R-O-C-K!