by Zebulon
It’s November of 2021. I had been only a casual fan of wrestling.
Lapsed, more like. Sure, I remembered the Attitude Era and half-deluded segments written by an ex-video store clerk and casual misogynist Vince Russo. I recalled shitposts of Vince McMahon’s flailing walk and Sweet Zombie Linda gags from OSW reviews.
But I hadn’t fallen into the product. I had heard of some other promotions, and seen clips on Youtube of powerhouse performances from the indies and foreign lands. Years before I had attempted a brief return to watching WWE, but the promise of new performers grew stale seeing them in nowhere feuds or fed to Roman Reigns again.
So, when a fellow legionnaire had suggested this new show coming up, I decided I could at least see it. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know any of the men on the roster except for Chris Jericho and Kenny Omega, and even he I only knew from word of mouth and shitposts from the radioactive sludge of wrestling discourse. All I knew was I couldn’t say I loved pro wrestling if all I did was bitch about WWE. I had to at least see if this two-year-old company, formed on the eve of a global pandemic, could entertain me.
Over the course of that night, All Elite Wrestling told a story of struggling to prove oneself against those certain of how much of a bum they were. Of titanic duels between two of the most talented of Mexico’s Lucha Libre and the pinnacle of Southern, WCW-bred “wrasslin’”. Of whacking people upside the head with a giant prop Prince Logo.
Full Gear 2021 radicalized me in my love of professional wrestling. It struck me like a bolt of lightning. That night, I had seen one of the best pay per views in my lifetime, rediscovered my passion for professional wrestling and found myself crying at a big man in chaps redeeming himself and winning a title that, despite just being leather and gold, felt worth it because of the sheer excellence of the performance.
The match that made me fall in love with a company.
It felt like professional wrestling.
This is not the first time some of you have heard me say a variation of this.If I have a reputation for anything in the legion it’s to stumble into a room and scream “OH FUCK BOIS, WRESTLING TONIGHT” and then struggle to control how much I ramble about it for the next However Long or my brain reengages something similar to a handbrake system.
Some of you reading this have been victims of this. Dear God I am sorry, It probably will happen again.
I write this as, instead of approaching you one at a time…
Okay, let’s get something out the way quick. So often, when the brain-worms wiggle and take hold on the speech centers in my brain and I talk about wrestling, the most common frame of reference most folks have is WWE, whether the 80’s Hulkamania era, the early 90’s New Generation or the big money period of the Attitude Era in the later half of the decade.
Now, I am not a major fan of WWE. I find the man most responsible for the company, Vincent Kennedy McMahon, to be one of the most repulsive human beings in the world for his treatment of women, racism, abuse of staff and, least of his crimes, foisting his brand and style of wrestling onto the world while actively killing competition. The company he has created has gone on to try and squash smaller companies by hiring their biggest stars, only to bench or flat out try and EMBARRASS them to their audience, all while actively pretending WWE is the only wrestling company in the world.
And I haven’t even talked about his wife, Linda, or his dipshit son-in-law Paul.
No, I must keep this somewhat positive, so I can’t dwell on this other than to say, for lack of a better term, most wrestling can be viewed as an independent production and by its contrast to the status quo of WWE.
So, what does AEW do differently than WWE? What is WWE’s Style?
First off, WWE would call itself Sports Entertainment. It does not have wrestlers. It has WWE Superstars within the WWE Universe. Traditionally, WWE has generally kept its in-ring style very… formulaic. The crux of the whole franchise is built around The Guy. Your Hulk Hogans, Stone Colds and Roman Reigns or John Cenas. (Editor’s note: Surely the plurals are Hulks Hogan, Stones Cold, and Johns Cena?) A dominant Champ for long runs, fighting off an ever rotating cast of either other Top Guys or, in older years, new talent brought in under gimmicks. The Undertaker debuted specifically to have a push against Hulk Hogan towards the end of his run before jumping ship to WCW in the early 90’s.
Along with this top-down view of the card, you have plenty of mid-range talents forced to do nothing-feuds against more or less talented fellow wrestlers. Superstars in other companies, like Shinsuke Nakamura and now The Lucha Brothers, sit in the mid-card and do bit appearances when necessary – even as the company acts like their accomplishments before they joined mean nothing.
It isn’t that they suddenly aren’t talented, but WWE does not seem to really VALUE the talent. Wrestlers at the top of the card aren’t picked because of just TALENT. It’s because of Marketing. John Cena sells a lot of merchandise. Roman Reigns and Hulk Hogan and Stone Cold and the Rock all did. And god forbid if you try and get popular compared to any of the main stars. Look what happened to Daniel Bryan.
This harsh criticism has been repeated more times than I can count dating back even to those heydays I referred to, after Vince gutted, bled out and dominated the rest of the industry. It isn’t new. But as long as those complaints have been made, others have taken their hand at running their own promotions in opposition to the Fed. And the Fed bought them out, hired their best talent, fucked with their business or just plain ignored them until their own incompetence made them go under.
All the while, to people who weren’t following the product it was just big guys who looked like action figures selling merch and pretending to fight over the most ludicrous premises, ranging from John Cena’s Best Friend of the Week getting made to look like a chump (Matt Cardona) to whatever the fuck was that AJ Styles and Undertaker match from a few Wrestlemania’s ago.
I just painted a very negative and harsh view of what is essentially what mainstream culture views as wrestling. And I acknowledge it’s a lot, but I need to stress there was a time where WWE looked to be LEARNING from the Indies and perhaps creating something interesting with the NXT Brand in the mid-10’s, and with the rise of talented women’s wrestling on the indies and being portrayed front and center with the Four Horsewomen, there was the idea of CHANGE.
But as time went on and WWE continued to expand, holding shows in Saudi Arabia, mass firings at the start of Covid and the additions of the likes of Logan Paul viewed as a better star for the company than solid workhorses brought in through the pillaging of the indies it took to BUILD the NXT brand? Like Thompson said in Fear and Loathing, you could see the high water mark, and where the wave rolled back.
All Elite Wrestling feels like an antidote to that. It looks at everything wrong in professional wrestling, and while it may not correct EVERYTHING, it at least acts like it is engaged with both the fans and the greater world of professional wrestling. They are not forced to conform to one style, with every wrestler allowed to tell the story of their match, their way. Because the story is not just told just through the microphone, but by the actual flow and actions of the participants in the match and an acceptance of the flow of time.
Okay, that sounds pretentious as hell. Particularly when the most common refrain to the suggestion of wrestling-as-art is ‘but you know it’s fake’.
Just hear me out.
At the inaugural event, Double or Nothing, the crowd had been given a murderous main event, with Chris Jericho winning out over Kenny Omega in an arduous match to see who would face Hangman Adam Page at the upcoming event, All Out. As Jericho gloated, demanding the praise of the crowd, an ear splitting shriek came from the audience. Stomping down the arena stairs was a man reborn, Jon Moxley came in, thrashing both of the participants and the referee before taking the defeated Kenny Omega, one of the founders of the promotion, and giving him a DDT on top of the giant prop poker chip on the stage before throwing him down to the floor, like Mishima in Tekken.
Moxley, formerly known as Dean Ambrose in WWE, stormed to the back and cut a promo discussing exactly what he was planning on doing, not just to AEW, but the entire sport of professional wrestling.
Join the Fatwa against the infidel Sports Entertainers.
Mox’s paradigm shift was more than just a cocky promo declaring themselves as apart from the standards of the industry. In the coming months and years, Moxley would find themselves feuding with almost all the other major players in the company and raging about the state of the promotion. Not that the others were bad wrestlers or for contrived storyline reasons. But matters of principle and respect.
To Jon Moxley’s eyes, the wrestling world, and his fellow wrestlers, failed to respect the sport or the highest titles the promotion could have, the AEW World Championship. While he held the title for some time, losing it to Omega in a Exploding Barbed Wire Deathmatch (don’t ask), Mox was unhappy with the state of it all.
Enter Bryan Danielson, formerly Daniel Bryan in WWE. Entering the promotion and seemingly gangstalking Moxley, recently returned from a hiatus, Danielson had a simple offer. Why complain about the state of young guns like Daniel Garcia or Wheeler Yuta working with ‘lesser’ wrestlers when the two of them could form a stable?
Recruit the young, talented and vicious diamonds in the rough among the roster, and show them a better way. A violent way.
Nothing speaks about setting an example like skewering a depressed cowboy with a screwdriver. That’s my hero.
Following a climatic brawl and the timely arrival of their mutual trainer, the great William Regal, the Blackpool Combat Club would be born, going forth to grow and bring about a reign of terror as they fought for their vision of professional wrestling. Uncompromising. Pure. Violent.
Unfortunately, like a Khorne cultist getting lost in the sauce, this addiction to violence became too much.
Following a string of setbacks and the upcoming retirement of Danielson, Moxley would take the core of his Blackpool Combat Club and, declaring AEW to no longer be anyone but his, would begin terrorizing every other member of the roster as The Death Riders, even defeating and retiring Danielson in a brutal betrayal. Rather than holding the title aloft, praising it and basking in the glory of holding the belt…
The belt was snatched from the ground, handed to an awaiting goon and stuffed into a Halliburton briefcase where it would stay for almost an entire year.
“Your mothers warned you of my coming. Fear the moment. But you think you can have a chance. But you are afraid. What if I am the one? This could be the moment you’ve been praying for all your life.”
AEW had become too dominated by clowns, weaklings and those not willing to ‘do what needed to be done’ to preserve professional wrestling. The title was made lesser in the hands of those who couldn’t be trusted with it, Jon said. Thus, he needed to step in. To steer the company with an iron fist and drive away any who would dare make a mockery of the sport.
This wasn’t about some gag about pissing in some tea or Brian Pillman pulling a gun on a rampaging Stone Cold Steve Austin. This was about the individual pride one had in a craft manifesting in what could only be described as a fundamentalist take on the core tenants of his wrestling. A psychotic Lisan al-Gaib for BIG GRAPS.
And while this jihad was being held by Moxley and his collection of unhinged acolytes, the evidence that he was wrong was playing out all around them.
Eddie Kingston, a 23-year veteran of the business and a walking embodiment of a New Yorker, being a triple-crown champion across AEW, Ring of Honor and NJPW’s mid-card. All this while being a sort of Last DJ, preaching King’s Road Style, a doctrine of wrestling formed by All Japan Professional Wrestling, focusing on the idea that wrestling was a display of passion, strength and stubborn will to overcome.
“I didn’t hear no bell” as an entire storytelling form in wrestling.
The mad Sunset Boulevard Pageantry of Toni Storm leading the Women’s Division to some of the most imaginative and emotionally involved matches, tackling themes of love, betrayal and the idea of personal and career reinvention as a transformative experience.
Not to mention Hangman Adam Page’s brutal and personal feud with Swerve Strickland that grew so horrific and dark it lead to both home invasions and arson, in an example of over-the-top story telling that fit the excesses of the Attitude Era and twisted it to something redemptive to both men.
HIS FUCKING CHILDHOOD HOME
All this while performing your art by needing to choreograph and time legitimate blows, carefully practiced grapples or just taking pain. Violent ballet or theater portrayed for the crowd in attendance and watching from home, feeding off each other and exalting something as silly as a man who would be one of the best champions of the company, if he would just care, into one of the biggest babyfaces in the promotion.
He, in fact, tried.
Professional wrestling, when you break it down, is not a single show. It’s an art form. One where you can tell stories of redemption, proving one’s self and maybe an invisible man fighting his evil invisible cousin.
Different promotion, but Bryce’s work in AEW is as silly and over the top.
AEW treats professional wrestling as if it is a legitimate performance, worthy of craft and originality. Entertaining a crowd by presenting their own interpretation of what you can do in the ring and getting an audience to eat out of your hand.
Kris Statlander’s intense strength and stamina compared to the absolute extravagance of Mercedes Mone, who currently holds 13 separate titles from a whole host of companies.
Darby Allin’s suicidal drive to do whatever it takes, to himself or his opponent, facing off against Maxwell Jacob Friedman, who I could only describe as a perfect Heel and someone who could one up Lex Luthor for egotism.
And then, of course: the utter blood feud between Eddie Kingston and The American Dragon Bryan Danielson, back before Danielson’s well-earned retirement.
Listen to the crowd.
If all you see here is two individuals standing, brutalizing each other in the ring, it’s own slow David and Goliath story begins to play out. The older working-class lout Kingston struggles to overcome the more technically proficient and fit Danielson.
Now add in the fact that Kingston was ready to retire after a long career working the indies before landing a one-off appearance against then-Champion Cody Rhodes. This lucky break and groundswell of fan love propelled him to a contract with the company.
A second chance, on a big stage. All his hard work paid off when, just a few months prior, he was ready to retire.
He knew the men he would be wrestling alongside. In that long career as a wrestler, Eddie had the chance to work with the likes of CM Punk, Claudio Castagnoli, Samoa Joe and even Bryan Danielson. And they remembered him.
They thought he was a bum, both behind the scenes back in the day and, for the sake of the story, right there in the ring. He had no business being there.
Now, they all had their own reasons. Claudio Castagnioli (sic) said Eddie was incapable of being professional. CM Punk, egotistical prick that he is, said it was foolish to expect anything from a man who would fight backstage and argue with the booker at the drop of a hat.
“Because you’re a bum.”
In what was the most vicious insult, Danielson claimed that for the 20-plus years of his career, Kingston failed to reach his potential – kicking the man while he was down during the first round of the Blue League in the Continental Classic, a round-robin tournament. Winning the Blue League would give him a title shot for the Continental Championship, against whoever won the opposing Gold League.
Edward Moore, the legitimate man in the black and yellow tank top, credited professional wrestling with saving his life. Born in Yonkers, Eddie fought in school constantly, describing himself as an angry kid. The future wrestler would be rewarded for getting through a week without getting in a fight by his mom going to the VideoVision and getting him wrestling tapes and ordering him Chinese.
It was here Eddie fell in love with All Japan Pro Wrestling, the Four Pillars and King’s Road Style Wrestling, finding he could not continue doing a nine-to-five.
“This is not what I want to do with the rest of my life. I know what the hell I want to do. I’ve always known.”
Debuting in the early 2000’s, Eddie would go on to struggle to get along with almost everyone, wrestling the indies for “a hot dog and a handshake”. He had his love of the craft and his own stubborn nature keeping him from quitting.
So, here he was.
Able to fight the man who judged him and beat him just a few weeks prior.
All for the chance to fight his former friend, Jon Moxley, for the Continental championship.
All that conveyed in each move, each moment to moment dynamic of the match.
Imagine the pay off to see him hold three belts, proving that he was capable of being the proof that dreams were possible. Through struggle, pain, turmoil and the cold world, through piss and vinegar and sheer love of the fucking game, you could make it.
Downright Shakespearean.
Catch your interest?
Just tune in on a Wednesday or Saturday night on HBO or TBS, or hell, check out that fun search bar thing in the Youtubes.
If you wanna catch up with all the individual stories, I can’t help but suggest the compilations of both AEW releases on their own channel and the superb work Dropmick Wrestling has done on their channel, compiling all the fun details for this cavalcade of violent art.
Yes, it’s 5 hours. Fuck off, it’s worth it. If ya can do it for a 40k vid, ya can do it for Big Graps.
Or hey, poke me. I got more stories, opinions and nightmares to share about the land of big biceps and tight pants.
I hope you enjoy the graps, friend.
Postscript: If you are reading this before Nov. 22 at 8 p.m., Full Gear 2025 is playing tonight on pay per view. There is usually a free Pre-Show they stream on Youtube. Check it out if any of this interested you, please.
Zeb would rather be up in a cave being a shaman creature telling stories, but we decided on this whole Culture thing, so I guess I’ll stick with being a person for a bit.
