EC3 during his time in TNA | Image Credits : Mike Kalasnik
Sportshadow got the opportunity to interact with former two-time TNA World Heavyweight Champion EC3 as a part of its Wrestleshadow podcast series.
The top 1% at everything he does let his honest opinions on a myriad of topics like his Impact India tour, starting as an extra in WWE, transition from Derrick Bateman in NXT to EC3 in TNA, his short-lived main roster run in WWE, and more.
Here are the edited excerpts of the interview.
If I recall anything I’ve said in the past, anything muttered when a microphone was on and a television camera was running, I don’t apologize. But I will say I probably didn’t mean it. I was likely just getting under your proverbial skin.
Mumbai was a great place. That was one of the best times I’ve had in wrestling. Coming over there with Impact for those studio shows was a blast.
I remember I had this weird little trailer and fans would just walk right into it. I’d have to tell them to get the hell out of here!
There were snake catchers outside, so I joined them. I was standing there with them to make sure the snakes didn’t get into the building. It was a complete trip.
I’d love to go back to India. I know there are some cool wrestling things happening there right now. My buddy Anthony Greene is over there, and what they have going on is really impressive.
I’m very into spiritual healing myself, so I'm holistic in that sense. When I go back, I really just want to catch the Taj Mahal. I’d love to see it.
Everywhere I went, people would grab my arms and go, "Ooh, nice biceps!" I’m sitting there thinking, "The whole package is nice! Get off me, man!" I’ve heard it’s because of the Bollywood dialogues. It’s definitely a unique vibe.
Regarding that specific character I played in India - the one in the smock, sitting Indian-style trying to raise snakes. I wish I could take full credit for that enlightened persona, but I have to give the majority of the credit to the one and only Sonjay Dutt.
That was Sonjay’s idea. He did the ladies and gentlemen part of the song and produced the segment. You can blame him for taking the fans for a ride!
I’m actually writing a book right now, and a big part of it is about finding purpose, whether through wrestling, podcasting, acting, or even science. Mentorship is vital. It’s not always a defined role, but finding someone you can trust who has your best interests in mind is everything.
I’ve had many great mentors. J-Rocc originally trained me in Cleveland, Rip Rogers and Al Snow in OVW. Pat Kenney in TNA and Dusty Rhodes, who taught me how to do promos. Norman Smiley, Dr Tom Prichard, and veterans like Kurt Angle, the Hardys, Sting, and Bully Ray.
John Cena as Peacemaker | Image Credits : IMAGO/Zuma Press Wire
John Cena was also a huge mentor to me. He and Rob McIntyre had a private gym in Tampa called Hard Nocks South. This was during the time he was a massive star, and he eventually opened it up to us as developmental wrestlers.
Even after my developmental days were done, it became my second home. It wasn't just a gym. It was a clubhouse of great minds cultivating ideas while lifting heavy weights.
You’d train like a beast and then pick the brains of the best in the business. If those walls could talk, they’d say some wild stuff.
There are pictures all across the walls of everything that took place there. If a wrestling fan walked in, they’d see photos of everyone you know from every federation doing weightlifting, wearing crazy wigs, and just doing goofy things. It’s pure history.
I’ve played a cop multiple times in my career. Honestly, I should probably get a pension from the various miscellaneous police forces I’ve worked for.
One notable time was when that dastardly Triple H broke into Randy Orton’s house. They got into a massive fight, he threw Randy through a window, and I was the one who had to put the cuffs on him.
Another time, I was acting as backup for Shane O’Mac when Triple H got into his business again. Ironically, my fellow officers in those segments included guys like Claudio Castagnoli and Fred Rosser (Darren Young). That was one hell of a police force for whatever city we were in.
People often ask if it’s easier to get noticed today because of social media. While you can always put your stuff out there, there are still only so many contracts available. Whether it’s WWE, NXT, or the indies, the scene has changed. I don't know if it's necessarily easier now, but it is certainly different.
You never know when, how, or in what form an opportunity will come. Back when I was starting out as an extra in WWE, there was an allotted amount of ring time before the show started. You’d get in the ring to practice, and eventually, the agents would trickle down and watch. The talent would come down to observe, too.
That was the best window to get noticed. An agent might say, "Hey, why don't you go wrestle a match with that guy?" Those were the moments where you had to show what you could do and prove you were fundamentally sound.
I’m not sure if extras get that same structured opportunity in today’s TV environment, which is why you have to be ready for anything.
EC3 during his time in the independent circuit| Image Credits : Mike Kalasnik
During my early days in NXT, there was a common misconception about creative freedom. The truth is, the main office didn't really care what we were doing on that version of the show. We had one writer, and because we were under the radar, we had a lot of leeway.
We weren't granted freedom so much as we were ignored, which allowed us to thrive. We could improv during pre-tapes and roll off each other in ways that the heavily scripted main roster environment didn't allow.
My work with Maxine, Johnny Curtis, and Percy Watson worked because we were free to f*** around and find out. Fans remember those segments today because they felt authentic. That unique experience makes me uniquely qualified for what I do now. I wouldn’t trade that era for anything.
Working with Daniel Bryan as my mentor was a highlight. For some unknown reason, there was always this stigma that because he was a great wrestler, he didn't have a personality. That couldn't be further from the truth. His personality is extraordinary and hilarious.
We had a blast because we both reached a point where we didn't care about the system trying to embarrass us. You can’t embarrass someone who is willing to embarrass themselves first.
A lot of our shtick was improv or ideas we came up with on the fly just to stick it to a system that wasn't invested in us. He’s a great wrestler, but he’s also just a great dude and a good hang.
I believe character and in-ring work are synonymous, and there’s a major disconnect for people who try to separate them. I gear myself toward character because if the fans don't empathize with, dislike, or care about who you are, the moves don't matter.
There is a very small sect of fans who are there strictly for the grappling, but for the majority, the character makes the difference. You can’t have a great match if the audience is indifferent. If two people the fans don't know have a technically perfect match to total silence, it isn't a great match.
Character is the foundation. Everything else trickles down from there.
I love athleticism. I love kicking ass, I love being in peak shape, and my conditioning is through the roof. But none of that matters if you don't care why I’m doing what I’m doing.
Don't stigmatize character workers by assuming they can't wrestle. I guarantee some of the greatest characters in history were better pure wrestlers than the workrate guys.
EC3 during his Slammiversary match against James Storm| Image Credits : Mike Kalasnik
One thing I tell a lot of up-and-coming wrestlers is that sometimes, to be who you want to be, you have to be something you are not. You might need to do something that feels totally outside your personality or even sub-optimal.
Take the curly-haired idiot, Derrick Bateman. I played a goofy guy doing stupid things on a fake game show. Why? Because if you look at the landscape of the scene and everyone is doing the same thing. They are being serious and acting like they care about a silly format. You don’t get noticed. You just fall into line.
While I was doing that goofy nonsense on screen, I was secretly a psychopath about the business. I was a student of the game. I was watching how the backstage worked and observing the top guys.
I watched how Randy Orton and John Cena carried themselves. I watched how Undertaker acted. I was cultivating all that information so that when the opportunity finally came to be who I truly wanted to be, I’d be ready. Derrick Bateman was a means to an end. EC3 was the destination.
With TNA, I was presented with an opportunity to be pushed and built into something significant. Obviously, I’m not actually Dixie Carter’s nephew, and I’m not from the South, but I understood the satire of that moment.
If you play the Nepo Baby role at face value, the entitled, rich little brat, it’s a gateway. Beneath that surface, the character is a sociopath. He’ll do anything to win. He has venom in his blood.
He might not beat you in a fair, good guy fight, but he will absolutely stab you in the bushes when you aren't looking.
That kind of depth is something no writer can give you. In wrestling, creative is often very base-level, especially when you have twenty people writing a script and nobody knows what's going on.
It’s on the talent to take that script and layer it with depth. If you have integrity in your character, you can perform within the guidelines while still getting your own message across.
Working with Dixie Carter was great. She is a sweetheart. A true Southern belle and a total peach. What made the nephew dynamic work was that she treated me like family backstage.
In wrestling, you almost have to live the character for real. We’d call each other "Auntie" and "Nephew" behind the scenes to keep that energy alive for the cameras.
When she went through that table, I truly tried my best to stop it. I wept for her! I held her hand in the hospital bed and told her she’d make it. She is one of the kindest people I’ve met in this business.
I still can’t believe those savages booed her when she debuted on another network. Those slow-witted bastards booed my sweet aunt. I’ll never forget that.
People often talk about the darts I threw in my promos, specifically toward WWE during my TNA run. If I was saying something with some bite, there was probably weight behind the words.
A wrestler’s job is to get attention. You have to perform for the casual fan who needs to know instantly that you're the bad guy, but you also want to give the hardcore fans something to chew on.
Anything I said that seemed insider usually had a basis in reality, but it wasn't always super personal. It was about entertaining the audience by giving them what they wanted to hear.
Wrestling progress doesn't happen in a straight line. It comes in plateaus. You’ll have long voids where it feels like everything is staying the same, and then suddenly, something clicks. You get an instant upgrade.
These giant leaps usually happen when you get in the ring with next-level talent. Did Kurt Angle, Matt Hardy, Bully Ray, and Sting bring me up a level? Absolutely. But sometimes the biggest upgrades come from guys the fans might not realize are dynamos.
I always bring up Eric Young. I worked with him a few times on my way up, and there’s a distinct difference in my work before and after those matches.
Once you’re in there with someone like him, you feel it. You realize, "Oh, I’ve been doing this wrong my whole life. I see it now." You get better every time you share a ring with guys like EY, Kazarian, or Christopher Daniels.
They might not always get the greatest of all time reputation from the outside, but inside those ropes, they are the ones who truly educate you.
EC3 with Rockstar Spud | Image Credits : Mike Kalasnik
People often assume that I was the one who elevated Rockstar Spud, but the truth is quite the opposite. He brought me up. At that point in TNA, EC3 was an up-and-coming mid-card heel.
To break through, I needed a program that was personal, raw, and real. TNA management didn't initially see the potential business between us, but Spud and I knew it was there if we could just get the opportunity.
That rivalry culminated in a Hair vs. Hair match in England. At the time, I was coming off a major surgery that should have sidelined me for three months.
I was back in the ring after only one month, which is why I was wearing that arm brace and perhaps wasn't as dialed in physically as usual. But I knew how vital that moment was for my growth.
We went from being the funny mid-card act to proving that EC3 was a legit psychopath who might actually kill someone. Spud gave me that credibility.
Winning the TNA World Championship changed everything for me. As a kid, when people asked what my dream match was, I’d say, "I want to wrestle Kurt Angle for a world title." People would laugh. And then I did it.
In my book, I talk extensively about finding your why. It has to be bigger than just having a dream. Dreams are free, but declaring you want to be something will cost you. That title win was the payoff for everything like the injuries, the dues paid, the NXT frustrations, the WWE firings, and the politics.
Every moment of suffering was for that one night. It wasn't about proving other people wrong, though that’s a decent vendetta to have, it was about proving myself right. It proved that I belonged, that the work was worth it, and that I had earned my spot at the top.
In TNA, Kurt Angle was the Godfather. He was the GOAT, the veteran, and the champion all rolled into one. Behind the scenes, he was a quiet, stoic leader. If you earned his respect, you knew you had truly accomplished something.
A lot of people in this business will tell you what you want to hear, but very few will tell you what you need to hear. Kurt did both. He was always open, honest, and candid.
Without hearing those hard truths from a hero like him, you can't get to where you want to go. Having my childhood idol become my mentor and opponent was a full-circle moment I'll never forget.
EC3 on his return to NXT | Image Credits : Miguel Discart
When I returned to WWE in 2018, there were no assurances. This business doesn't give guarantees. It gives opportunities. The plan was to mix it up in NXT as a holding ground before moving to the main roster.
Honestly, I wish I could have stayed in NXT longer. I knew when the call-up came that it wasn't the right time or the right move, but as an employee, you go where you're told.
The difference between my first run and the second was night and day. FCW was a couple of rings in a warehouse with guys fighting for survival. By 2018, NXT under Triple H had become a professional sports brand.
With the Performance Center, the medical facilities, and the specialized weight training, it felt like playing for the Miami Dolphins.
However, there is something to be said for the warehouse days. I wouldn’t trade the experience of wrestling for an hour in 110-degree heat with no air conditioning for anything. Those moments instill a discipline and a level of sovereignty that a state-of-the-art facility can't replicate.
Some newer prospects might be missing out on that necessary humility because they have it so nice right off the bat. You need that dressing in a closet experience to truly appreciate being on top.
When it came to moving talent from NXT to the main roster back then, whatever Vince McMahon said, went. If he decided he wanted to blow things up and pull seventeen people at once, Triple H’s job was to say, "Okay, that’s what we have to do."
The beauty of NXT, and Triple H saw this clearly, was how the system was designed to have people ready to fill those spots at a moment’s notice. It was a machine.
There was never a lack of talent. If five people got pulled today, the next five were already standing there. I don’t think there was much "Oh, you can't have him yet" coming from Triple H’s side at that time. Whatever Vince wanted, happened.
Once I was called up, I was given the silent gimmick. To this day, I wish I knew why. Maybe I had enemies I didn't know about, or maybe I drove 110 mph into the wrong person’s car. Making a man who makes his living by talking stay silent was a baffling call.
I can see the counter-perspective. Sometimes you remove someone's greatest strength to challenge them to grow in other ways. But I don't think that was the point here.
I think Vince was just "baffling brain" in every direction. Maybe he saw one promo I did and decided I’d be great if I never spoke. It was stupid, and it sucked. It wasn't creatively fulfilling, and I don't look back on it with kind eyes. It killed me inside and I hated every second of it.
But at the end of the day, I was an employee. They paid me to do a job, and my personal happiness or emotional state wasn't part of the contract I signed. I did what I was told.
I don’t watch a ton of the modern product because I’m surrounded by wrestling all day. When you’re creating it, you don't want too much outside influence.
If I watch too much, those ideas might seep into my brain subconsciously, and I’d rather work through my own intuition and creative instincts with my talent.
I do check out the big Premium Live Events or matches that people are calling bangers. But, I’m not a fan of the lack of matches on big shows. I think there’s room to do more. Not every match needs to be a 35-minute epic. You can get a lot of talent over in shorter matches that aren't necessarily 50/50 booking all the time.
There is a specific philosophy fans and creators should consider. If everything is designed to be great, then nothing can truly be great.
You need a balance. Sometimes you need segments or matches that aren't necessarily good or bad in a technical sense, but are designed to serve a purpose. It can be something like moving a story forward in six minutes so that in two months, the fans are actually keyed in for the great match.
I don’t understand the star ranking obsession. Ranking a match that was designed specifically to get a character over using a quality decider makes no sense to me. The purpose of that match was to do exactly what it did, not to fit some made-up criteria.
As a fan, you can enjoy things that aren't technical masterpieces. It can be something like, wacky segments that build character depth, squash matches that make someone look like an unbeatable beast, complete chaos where the wheels fall off a match and something unexpected happens.
Sometimes, when things don’t go according to plan, you get the best stuff. It’s okay to be a little rough around the edges like to get a little nasty, a little dirty, and get some blood on the walls.
When you’re in a situation where things go wrong and you have to figure out how to get back on track, that’s where the next level happens.
There is so much satisfaction in rebounding from a mistake and hearing the crowd go nuts for it. Fan reactions shouldn't be manufactured. They should be drawn out.
If you expect fans to cheer just because someone won a certain way, that’s manufactured. But when you go out there and draw an authentic reaction out of them through real, raw moments, it’s always louder and more meaningful.
My recent run with the NWA was a grounded, authentic experience. People ask if it reminded me of my love for pro wrestling, and the truth is, at times it did. But it also reminded me of exactly what I loathe about this business. You could say that about any company.
The highlights, however, were undeniable. Working with Thom Latimer was a career peak. He is my favorite wrestling opponent of all time. We did incredible stuff in the ring which included real, authentic wrestling.
It was two muscly studs beating the hell out of each other, not cosplay dancing or doing moves that don't make sense.
Beyond my own year as champion, my most fulfilling accomplishment was watching the talents I worked with climb the ladder. Through my involvement with the NWA and my own projects like Exodus, I had a hand in helping about ten to twelve wrestlers get signed, get on TV, and find success.
Seeing them reach a point where they don't need me anymore because they are on their own journey, that is more rewarding than any title.
Currently, I’m at my academy, the EXO Pro Op, located at The Powerhouse gym in Eastlake, Ohio. To any fans in India thinking of moving to the States to train, we’d love to have you.
This isn't a wrestling school where we just practice lock-ups and running ropes. I want the guys who already have that base so we can hone their fundamentals and build who they are as people. We add depth to the character until you become exactly who you want to be in that ring.
I’m not currently signed to a major company, and that’s by design. I’m taking time to sit back and observe. I’m also probably blackballed from most of them because people can’t handle my authentic truth, and that’s fine. While I see a lot to loathe in the industry lately, I still have that innate passion, that uncontrollable urge to do what I do better than anyone else.
I’ve been working on my book for about a year and a half now. My brain is sporadic, so the process has been total chaos. Half of it is deeply personal stories, like the heartbreaking loss of my cat. The other half is "Master Bateman’s Rules of Mastery," focusing on the discipline it takes to be great at anything.
It’s a mix of personal history, theories on life, and parallels to film and history. I’ve been restructuring the narrative arc so it makes sense to a brain other than mine.
I just blew up the first chapter and redid it again, so I’m looking for a bit of help to get it across the finish line. I’m aiming to release it in about six months, hopefully sooner.
The recent retirements of John Cena and AJ Styles in 2026 really mark the end of an era. They are two of the greatest of all time for very different reasons. John was the quintessential character guy and AJ the quintessential wrestler, but they both overlapped into greatness in both categories.
The relationship of respect they developed with each other was incredible to watch. It sucks to lose them both from the ring, but it’s awesome to see the path they laid for people like me.
I wrote a tribute to John when he retired. It’s on my Instagram and will definitely be in the book. He was incredibly meaningful to me, not just as a wrestler, but as a man who helped shape my perspective during those early days at Hard Nocks South.
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