World Wrestling Entertainment Inc - The three count: my life in stripes as a WWE referee

Foreword

So Im sitting in my recliner with my teacup poodle (hes very tough) in my lap, and Im reminiscing. Pleasant thoughts. The kind that are surrounded by fluffy clouds with breezy ukulele music as the soundtrack. Okay, got sidetracked, but Im trying to set the mood here, folks. Lets just say these thoughts make me happy. Thoughts of my career. A career that has seen me main-event WrestleManias. Win 31 championships in the WWE . TLC matches. Triple ladder matches. Money in the Bank matches. A Hall of Famer. A smile adorns my face. Until the record scratches. The lazy chords of the Hawaiian music slam to a halt in my brain, the clouds dissipate, and I crash back to Earth in a heap, suddenly realizing that a certain individual has been a part of all of these moments. A Canadian. No, not the Canadian who has annoyed me and audiences worldwide for years as Christian. But a Canadian nonetheless. A prematurely balding Canadian who admittedly used to rock a serious frullet (fro-mullet) that would make Billy Squier proud and the rest of us cringe. A certain Canadian who has parlayed his experience in the WWE into becoming a pretty successful analyst of the industry now on the ol Canadian boob tube. I suddenly realize this man is the Forrest Gump of my career. Hes been there, lurking, just barely out of focus. Oh, but hes there. You cant mistake that hollowed-out hair and mirror-like dome. Right over my shoulder or my prone body as the Undertaker plans to do his worst to me. That man is Jimmy Korderas.

Now, as Lance Storm would say, if I can be serious for a minute, Jimmy and I go back. Way back. To 1996, when my WWE quest was being realized. I was a young up and comer, and Jimmy was already a road horse who had logged hundreds of thousands of miles as a WWE referee. One of the toughest jobs in the industry, and one that flies under the radar. Because if you are doing it the right way, your job is not to be noticed. Not to take away from the match and performance. Help tell the story, but not be the story. The narrator who furthers everything, but you never see his face. Hes Daniel Stern in The Wonder Years. It can be a thankless job. Being a referee means you log all the same miles, but without the fame and glory. Put up and tear down the ring. Also the occasional bumps. Not an easy gig to say the least, but Jimmy always did it with a smile on his face and a horrible joke on the tip of his tongue.

What made a great guy even better was the fact that he was one of the best referees ever in the industry. And thereve been some good ones. He really was there for so many of my pivotal moments. WrestleMania2000 triple ladder match. Check. TLC 1. Check. TLC 2. Check. TLC 3. Check. Money in the Bank. Check. I made sure he was there for the biggest match of my career. Yes, I personally requested Jimmy as the referee for my match in the main event of WrestleManiaXXIV against the Undertaker. He got booted in the face by Taker and took it like a champ. Heres the thing: we knew he would, and thats why we wanted him.

Since those early days of my WWE career weve remained friends. Hes one of the good guys. You hear that term tossed around a lot, and while it may be clich and overused, with Jimmy, it couldnt be more fitting. To be honest, there are not many people I will stay in contact with in this business. I can count them on two hands. But Jimmy will be one of them.

Technically this little tidbit is usually named a foreword. A few hopefully entertaining anecdotes that kick off an interesting journey you, dear wrestling fan, are about to embark on. I look at it as something different. This is more of a thank you note from one friend and colleague to another. Thank you, Jimmy, for being my Forrest Gump, but more importantly my friend.

Adam Edge Copeland

March 2, 2012

Asheville, North Carolina

Introduction

Never in my wildest imagination as a young boy growing up in the heart of Torontos GreekTown would I have thought I would be in the main event of a WrestleMania . March 30, 2008, the its WrestleMania XXIV and there I am, lying on my side under the bottom rope, just staring out into a crowd of almost 75,000 screaming wwe fans. I have just been kicked in the head by a size 16 boot that sent me crashing to the canvas. The other end of that boot belonged to the wwe s most revered superstar of all time, the Undertaker. For me it was a badge of honour to have taken that kick from a legend. The other participant in the match was none other than fellow Canadian and good friend of mine, Edge. This was truly a dream match for any referee to officiate and I was fortunate to be chosen for this match. I was not originally scheduled to ref the main event, but I will get to that story in due time.

While I was lying there, so many things raced through my mind. The predominate thought was, How did the kick to my head look? After that, my thoughts turned to, How do you top a moment like this? I cant describe how much being a part of this match in wwe history means to me. It was so overwhelming; however, as I lay there I could see that the crowd was standing on their feet and apparently cheering I just couldnt hear them. These are the moments guys like me dream about. These are the moments that make a guy like me proud and humbled to be a part of something that people will remember for a long time. This one moment in particular was the crowning achievement of a long career and a dream come true for a kid from Toronto, Canada. It was the culmination of a lot of sweat, tears, and yes, even some blood and broken bones. All the while my passion and love for this business never faded. It was a long and at times difficult journey to achieve this dream but I finally got there and this is my story.

Chapter 1

How It All Began

My journey began many years prior to that moment in Orlando, a long time before I began working for the premier wrestling/sports entertainment company on the planet. Watching wrestling on TV was not high on my Greek immigrant parents priority list. Excelling in school and going on to college or university was all that mattered to them. If that did not happen, plan B was to follow my father into the family business. My dad was a licensed auto mechanic who owned a gas station and repair shop in the heart of Torontos GreekTown, affectionately called the Danforth after its main street. As much as I respected my fathers wishes and as much as I liked tinkering with cars, the garage business was not what I wanted to get into. I did however work for him part-time while I attended school. When it became clear that a post-secondary education did not appeal to me, it was pretty much set in my parents mind that I would work full-time for Dad. One thing was certain, I had not given up on a very different dream that I wanted to pursue. It was extremely difficult not to be a wrestling fan growing up in the epicentre of the Canadian wrestling scene, Toronto. Let me explain by taking you back to where my passion for this unique form of entertainment originated.

Before the days when World Wrestling Entertainment ruled the sports entertainment landscape, before the Rock n Wrestling Connection, and even before the Incredible Hulk Hogan, professional wrestling was a territorial business. Promoters divided North America into specific regions with the agreement that they would not run wrestling shows in the others territory. Although they often worked together by trading talent and so forth, there was also a healthy competition between them.

Arguments arose among wrestling fans as to which area of North America had the best wrestling on television. After all, St. Louis had