Wrestler’s Court Is Now In Session! – Hearing #2

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**Edited on October 1st 2018**

You have been found guilty of loving Wrestler’s Court stories too much! Therefore, the court has ruled in favour of you reading one more entry in its entirety. Today, I’ll be bringing three more examples of the infamous Wrestler’s Court. For those who missed the first two entries, you can catch up at the following links >>> Intro, Hearing #1

Today’s defendants include Sheik Abdul Bashir, Ivory and the Divas, and serving as our main event, we have a detailed story told from JTG’s perspective. Enjoy!


Sheik Abdul Bashir (aka Daivari) ribs Kip James (aka Billy Gunn) shortly after arriving in TNA

Instances of Wrestler’s Court has happened in several promotions; not only in the WWE. TNA wanted to show their version of Wrestler’s Court to be far more light-hearted in comparison, so one day it was decided that Sheik Abdul Bashir would go to court over a rib he played on Kip James. Bashir, his buddy Rhino, and Kip James boarded a plane. Bashir asked the attendant to announce it was James’ 66th birthday over the tannoy. It was decided to take him to court as he hadn’t been in TNA long enough to pull such a rib on a veteran (when really, everyone found it hilarious). Brother Ray (Bubba Ray Dudley) served as judge, B.G James (Road Dogg) represented Kip, and Simon Diamond played the bailiff.

Brother Devon was supposed to represent Bashir, but as he turned up late, Bashir fired him and decided to represent himself. In a surprise twist, Rhino was meant to play the eye-witness on behalf of Kip, but he turned “heel”, and instead sided with Bashir and became his eye-witness. Rhino claimed Kip had lied about his age all along! They showed the court some “evidence”; several clearly doctored 1970’s photos with Kip (when he was in his 30’s) in the background. Apparently, Vince Russo and WrestleZone.com’s Glenn Gilbertti were kicked out of court as it was “Wrestler’s Only”. In the end, Daivari took a plea bargain, where he was made to buy beer for the locker room. As a result of a successful hearing, a backstage party broke out, and unlike other stories about Wrestler’s Court, this was entertainment value for the sake of a beer bash.



Divas Dodgeball Gets Too Real

In the video below, Ivory explains the Dodgeball incident. I also included the Dodgeball match as well. The story begins at 06:15..



JTG goes to court over the “British Rat”

And saving the best for last, here’s a story told by JTG in his book “Damn! Why Did I Write This Book?”. Below is an excerpt explaining what happened one night after a show in England. This was wrote by JTG (edited by Ryan Nemeth) and published in May 2015, so all credit goes to them.

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 well-respected 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!”

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