20 Wrestling Moves I Need to See (and a Few That Might Already Be Happening 👀)
- Jan 24
- 36 min read

These are all my personal picks, so if you agree or disagree that is totally fine and I respect that.
Brock Lesnar: When the Final Boss Stops Feeling Final

For nearly two decades, Brock Lesnar has been WWE’s nuclear option. When things felt stale, when ratings dipped, when they needed instant legitimacy, Brock Lesnar showed up—suplexes flying, champions falling, aura intact.
But here’s the uncomfortable truth: that aura is gone.
And it’s not just about age, repetition, or overexposure anymore.
It’s about context.
The Controversy Clouding a Return
Any potential Brock return now comes with baggage WWE can’t just no-sell away. The real-world controversy surrounding Lesnar—his name surfacing in conversations WWE would clearly prefer to distance themselves from—has changed the way fans react. Where his music once triggered shock and dread, now it risks something worse:
A groan.
That reaction matters. Modern wrestling fans are far more aware, far less willing to separate performer from circumstance, and much more vocal when they feel a company is forcing a nostalgia act they didn’t ask for. Brock doesn’t feel like a special attraction anymore—he feels like a reminder of an era WWE is actively trying to move past.
And for a lot of fans, there’s a simple sentiment gaining traction:
“We’ve seen everything Brock has to offer.”
The Exhaustion Factor
Even ignoring controversy, the Lesnar formula is tired:
Short matches
Finisher spam
One-sided dominance
Titles orbiting him instead of the division
It worked when Brock was rare. It worked when he felt unstoppable. It worked when he was the future as much as the present.
Now? It feels like creative regression.
WWE is deeper, younger, and more stacked with legitimate monsters than at any point in the last 15 years. They don’t need Brock anymore—and that’s the key difference.
The Right Way Out: Pass the Crown, Don’t Just Leave
If Brock ever appears again, it cannot be business as usual. There’s only one version of a Brock return that makes sense:
👉 He loses. Decisively.👉 He creates the next Final Boss.
Here are the three names that actually work.
Option 1: Gunther — The Emperor Replaces the Beast

Gunther is already everything WWE used Brock to be:
Legitimate
Intimidating
Credible without shortcuts
The match:
WrestleMania or SummerSlam
15 minutes, no nonsense
Brock throws suplexes, Gunther does not panic
The finish: Gunther chops Brock down, powerbombs him clean, pins him in the center.
The result: Brock’s aura transfers. Gunther becomes the unbeatable monster—without needing to disappear for months at a time.
Option 2: Oba Femi — The Monster of the Future

This is the boldest play—and maybe the smartest.
Oba Femi doesn’t just beat Brock.He ends the concept of Brock Lesnar.
The story:
Brock returns, dismisses NXT as soft
Oba answers the challenge
WWE frames it as “past dominance vs future dominance”
The match:
Brock dominates early
Oba refuses to stay down
One massive power move, one clean pin
The aftermath: Instant coronation. Oba becomes the new measuring stick for power in WWE.
Option 3: Bron Breakker — The Torch Pass Everyone Understands

If WWE wants clarity and symbolism, Bron Breakker is the safest and cleanest option.
Why it works:
NFL bloodlines vs UFC aura
Speed vs brute force
Youth vs inevitability
The finish: Spear. Another spear. Steiner Recliner. Tap-out or pass-out.
The message: This is the new alpha. Period.
Chris Jericho: The Last Reinvention Might Be the Farewell Tour

For over 30 years, Chris Jericho has survived by doing the impossible in wrestling: changing before the audience got bored. Rocker. Cruiserweight. World champ. Sports-entertainer. Serious heel. Comedic heel. Legend. Gatekeeper. Reinvention has always been his superpower.
But lately? That magic has felt… strained.
And that’s why it feels increasingly possible that Jericho’s next move isn’t another reinvention—but a retirement run, and that run might end where his biggest legacy lives: WWE.
AEW: When the Jericho Well Finally Ran Dry

Let’s be honest—Jericho’s importance to AEW history is untouchable. First World Champion. Media ambassador. Locker room general. For a long time, AEW needed him.
Now? The relationship feels worn out.
Fans haven’t just cooled on Jericho—they’ve turned:
Go-away heat instead of heel heat
Endless factions and “Jericho Vortex” accusations
Younger talent circling him instead of passing him
Even when Jericho tries to reinvent, the reaction is often the same:
“Why is this still happening?”
That’s not disrespect—that’s fatigue. And in wrestling, fatigue is fatal.
AEW has grown past needing Jericho as a centerpiece, and Jericho feels increasingly out of place in a company built on youth, speed, and future-facing stars. Ironically, that makes this the perfect time for him to leave.
WWE: The One Place Jericho’s Past Actually Helps Him
Jericho returning to WWE wouldn’t feel like a step backward—it would feel intentional.
Why? Because WWE doesn’t need him to be weekly TV Jericho. They need him to be:
A legend
A measuring stick
A final chapter
His WWE history is absurdly rich:
First Undisputed Champion
Iconic rivalries with Rock, Austin, Michaels
A Hall of Fame résumé already locked in
A return reframes Jericho not as “overexposed veteran,” but as living history.
The Retirement Run Blueprint (This Is the Key)
If Jericho comes back, it should be finite. No open-ended deal. No creative sprawl.
Think:
6–9 months
Big programs
Clean losses
One final bow
Here’s how you do it right, at least in my opinion (these are not all of the matches/feuds, but the biggest ones).
Program 1: Jericho vs Cody Rhodes — Legacy vs Legacy

Cody Rhodes
This is the tone-setter.
Story: Jericho helped define an era Cody’s father ruled. Cody represents the present and future Jericho helped pave.
Match:
Big PPV
Emotional promos
Jericho loses clean
Purpose: Cody beating Jericho isn’t about elevation—it’s about validation. Passing respect, not stealing spotlight.
Program 2: Jericho vs CM Punk — One Last War of Words

CM Punk
This is pure money.
Why it works:
Real tension
Contrasting philosophies
Two men who never stop talking
Structure:
Heavy promo-driven feud
Short, intense match
Possibly Punk wins, possibly Jericho cheats—either way, it’s final
This isn’t about titles. It’s about ego.
Program 3: Jericho vs AJ Styles — The Workrate Farewell

AJ Styles
This is Jericho reminding everyone he can still go.
Match:
TV main event or PPV undercard
15–18 minutes
Clean, technical, respectful
Result: AJ wins. Crowd applauds. Jericho bows to the ring.
This is the “thank you” match.
Final Program: Jericho vs Kevin Owens — Full Circle

Kevin Owens (post-injury)
This is the perfect ending.
Why KO?
Deep personal history
Proven chemistry
Emotional credibility
Story: Owens was once Jericho’s sidekick. Now he’s the one putting him down.
Finish: Pop-up Powerbomb.Three count.Standing ovation.
Jericho leaves his boots—or his scarf—in the ring.
EVIL: Why WWE Might Be His Final—and Best—Form

For years, EVIL has been one of the most polarizing figures in modern New Japan. Loved, loathed, booed out of buildings, and endlessly debated—often for the exact reasons that make him a near-perfect fit for WWE.
If the rumors of EVIL heading to WWE are real, this isn’t a strange move.
It’s a correction.
EVIL Was Never a Pure “Workrate Guy”—and That’s the Point

EVIL has always thrived more on:
Presentation
Character
Vibe
Heat
Than on being the best technical wrestler in the ring. That disconnect is where a lot of NJPW criticism comes from—but it’s also why WWE fits him like a glove.
WWE doesn’t need EVIL to be a G1 match-of-the-year machine.They need him to be:
Instantly recognizable
Visually striking
Easy to boo
Easy to market
EVIL checks every box.
Sports Entertainment 101: EVIL Gets It
Let’s be real—EVIL already wrestles like a WWE character:
Slow, methodical offense
Emphasis on power spots
Big facial expressions
Over-the-top cheating
House of Torture wasn’t a failure of concept.
It was a presentation mismatch.
In WWE, that same act becomes clarity instead of chaos.
Even without the rest of House of Torture, EVIL works:
Solo heel with supernatural-adjacent edge
Minimal talking, maximum intimidation
Occasional mind games, not weekly interference marathons
Think less “endless run-ins,” more “final boss henchman energy.”
The Merch Angle (This Is Huge)

EVIL might be one of the most merch-ready wrestlers WWE could realistically sign:
Skulls
Scythes
Gothic fonts
Monochrome logos
That stuff prints money.
He appeals to:
Metal fans
Goth kids
Teenagers discovering wrestling through aesthetics
Casual fans who like vibes more than five-star matches
WWE has built empires on less visually distinct acts.
How WWE Should Introduce EVIL
Debut concept: Lights out. Smoke. Minimal commentary explanation. Let the visual do the work.
Name: Just EVIL. No surname. No backstory dump.
First targets:
Midcard babyfaces with credibility
Not comedy acts
People who can sell fear
Presentation:
Wins aren’t pretty
Matches aren’t long
EVIL always looks like he enjoyed hurting someone
Early Feuds That Actually Make Sense
EVIL vs Damian Priest
Two dark, physical bruisers. Priest’s presence vs EVIL’s menace is an instant visual win.
EVIL vs Seth Rollins
Rollins’ charisma clashing with EVIL’s cold detachment writes itself. Big matches, big reactions.
EVIL vs Finn Bálor
Shared Bullet Club history without needing to reference it. Lean into body language, not lore dumps.
House of Torture Is Optional—Not Required
This is the most important part.
EVIL does not need:
Dick Togo
SHO
Yujiro
Weekly interference
In WWE, EVIL works best as:
A singular threat
A consistent heel presence
Someone who feels dangerous, not annoying
If WWE ever wanted to pair him with a faction later (Judgment Day-adjacent energy is obvious), it should be earned—not immediate.
Ceiling: The Modern Gatekeeper Monster
EVIL’s ceiling in WWE isn’t “face of the company”—and that’s fine.
His real value is as:
Upper-midcard heel
Credible PPV challenger
Merch-driving character
Reliable antagonist for rising stars
He’s the guy you beat on the way to greatness.
And ironically, that role fits him better than trying to force him into a main-event NJPW mold he never truly belonged in.
SANADA: When Cool, Calm, and Collected Finally Meets the Right Machine

For years, SANADA has existed in a strange space: clearly talented, endlessly pushed, visually flawless—yet always hovering just outside true superstardom. In New Japan, he was often presented as the guy who should be bigger than he feels.
In WWE? That problem might finally disappear.
If SANADA heads west, it won’t be about reinventing him. I’ll be about streamlining him—and WWE excels at that.
SANADA Is Built for WWE’s Version of “Cool”

SANADA’s strengths have never been loud promos or fiery speeches. His strengths are:
Presence
Body language
Look
Calm menace
That plays far better in WWE’s sports-entertainment ecosystem than in NJPW’s workrate-first culture. WWE knows how to frame silent confidence as star power.
You don’t ask SANADA to talk more.
You ask him to talk less.
Let commentary do the work. Let the camera linger. Let the audience fill in the gaps.
The “Cold Skull” Look Is Money in WWE
SANADA’s aesthetic is already WWE-ready:
Clean gear
Simple branding
Star presence without clutter
This is the kind of act WWE can:
Market easily
Photograph beautifully
Turn into premium merch without overthinking it
Minimalist stars often thrive most in WWE because they stand out in a world full of noise.
In-Ring Style: Why WWE Fits Him Better Than NJPW

SANADA’s matches work best when:
They’re structured
They emphasize pacing over chaos
They build to big moments
That’s WWE main-event philosophy to its core.
Instead of being compared to workrate gods every tour, SANADA becomes:
A calm assassin
A reliable big-match wrestler
A credible threat who doesn’t need to steal the show every night
This reframes him as important, not just talented.
Early WWE Feuds That Click Instantly
SANADA vs Seth Rollins
Rollins’ volatility vs SANADA’s calm is pure contrast booking.
SANADA vs Finn Bálor
Two men who don’t over-talk, letting physical storytelling do the heavy lifting.
SANADA vs AJ Styles
A “who’s really better?” program that writes itself with mutual respect and escalating intensity.
These are matches WWE audiences immediately understand.
The Tag Team Wildcard: Reuniting SANADA & EVIL

Here’s where things get really interesting.
If EVIL also lands in WWE, reuniting SANADA & EVIL—even temporarily—could be a massive win for a tag division that constantly needs credible, dangerous teams.
Why the Reunion Works
Shared history without needing deep explanation
Natural chemistry
Matching aesthetic
Clear alignment (cold brutality over flashy moves)
WWE doesn’t need to explain LIJ. They just present them as men who understand each other in violence.
How to Book Them as a Team
Presentation:
Minimal talking
Synchronized entrances
Matches that feel heavy and uncomfortable
Role:
Upper-card tag threats
Not comedy, not filler
The team champions fear facing
Feuds:
SANADA & EVIL vs DIY
SANADA & EVIL vs Judgment Day
SANADA & EVIL vs The Usos (if timing allows)
They instantly add credibility and edge to the division.
Singles vs Tag: Flexibility Is the Key
The beauty of SANADA in WWE is flexibility:
Start solo to establish him
Pivot into a tag run with EVIL
Break them apart later for a personal feud
That’s years of storytelling potential from one signing.
Ceiling: The Ultimate “Big Match” Wrestler
SANADA’s WWE ceiling isn’t loud dominance—it’s quiet importance.
He becomes:
A reliable PPV performer
A credible title challenger
A star who never feels forced
And in a company that sometimes over-explains everything, SANADA’s restraint becomes his superpower.
Hiromu Takahashi: Chaos Belongs Where Chaos Makes Sense

There are wrestlers who thrive anywhere.
And then there are wrestlers who thrive only where the ecosystem understands them.
Hiromu Takahashi is firmly in the second category—and that’s why his future feels increasingly clear.
If Hiromu leaves NJPW, the destination isn’t WWE.
It isn’t AEW.
It isn’t TNA.
It’s NOAH.
Hiromu Has Already Beaten New Japan (Multiple Times)

Let’s say the quiet part out loud: Hiromu has nothing left to prove in NJPW.
He has:
Defined the modern Junior Heavyweight division
Had multiple legendary title reigns
Headlined major shows as a junior
Become the emotional core of LIJ
At this point, his NJPW career is on a loop:
Big return
Big match
Big win
Reset
There’s no escalation left that doesn’t feel forced. A heavyweight run would betray what makes Hiromu Hiromu. Another junior title reign just adds pages to an already-complete chapter.
Staying doesn’t elevate him anymore—it contains him.
Why Hiromu Doesn’t Fit WWE, AEW, or TNA
This matters, because fans love fantasy-booking Hiromu everywhere—but most of those fits fall apart fast.
WWE
Too structured. Too promo-driven. Too size-conscious. Hiromu’s chaos would be smoothed out, his danger sanitized, his weirdness diluted.
AEW
Ironically, too much freedom. Hiromu would be another great wrestler in a sea of great wrestlers, lost in rotating spotlight and inconsistent framing.
TNA
Not big enough. Not serious enough. Hiromu needs intensity and stakes—not nostalgia energy.
None of these environments are built around Hiromu’s very specific brand of controlled insanity.
NOAH: Where Hiromu’s Chaos Becomes Purposeful

NOAH is different.
It’s stiffer.
It’s colder.
It’s less forgiving.
And that’s exactly why Hiromu works there.
NOAH doesn’t ask Hiromu to be cute. It asks him to survive.
Hiromu already has history in NOAH—this wouldn’t be a shock debut, it would be a return to unfinished business. Fans there understand his recklessness not as comedy, but as obsession.
In NOAH, Hiromu isn’t “the fun guy.”He’s the man willing to destroy his own body to win.
The Matchups Are Immediately Better
This is where the move truly clicks.
Hiromu vs Kaito Kiyomiya The heart of NOAH vs the wild card from outside. Speed and unpredictability vs discipline and pride.
Hiromu vs KENOH Pure violence. A match that feels genuinely dangerous. Hiromu testing how far his neck—and soul—can go.
Hiromu vs NOAH Juniors This isn’t about dominance—it’s about escalation. Hiromu dragging the division into his pace while barely surviving himself.
These matches mean something in NOAH. In other promotions, they’d just be “great matches.”
Tone Shift: From Rockstar to Martyr
One of the most interesting things about Hiromu in NOAH would be the tonal change.
In NJPW, he’s:
A star
A symbol
A fan favorite
In NOAH, he becomes:
A destabilizing force
A reckless invader
A man whose body might give out at any moment
That shift adds stakes back to his matches. Every dive feels necessary, not indulgent. Every win feels earned, not expected.
Why Leaving NJPW Is the Right Move—Emotionally
Hiromu loves NJPW. That’s obvious.
But sometimes the most honest move is walking away before the decline. Before repetition turns into parody. Before the injuries stop being dramatic and start being tragic.
NOAH offers him:
New opponents
New tone
New reasons to fight
It lets Hiromu stay Hiromu, without asking him to outdo himself endlessly.
Britt Baker: When the Star Who Built the Division Outgrows It

At one point, Britt Baker wasn’t just the face of AEW’s women’s division—she was the division. Promo time, spotlight, confidence, narrative importance: Britt had it all. She talked better than almost everyone around her, leaned into arrogance, and understood something crucial early on:
In American wrestling, personality gets you further than move sets.
But wrestling ecosystems change. And right now, Britt Baker feels like a wrestler who has outgrown her environment.
The AEW Crowd Turn: From Pillar to Problem

Let’s not sugarcoat it—AEW fans have turned on Britt.
Not overnight, but gradually:
Overexposure early on
Long stretches of inactivity
Return programs that didn’t land
A division that quietly passed her by
While Britt was gone, AEW’s women’s roster evolved. New talent emerged. Match quality improved. The division became less about one voice and more about depth.
So when Britt returned, the reaction wasn’t relief—it was skepticism.
The same traits that once made her indispensable now get framed as:
“Holding others back”
“Not improving in-ring”
“Living off promos alone”
Fair or not, perception is reality. And the reality is that Britt no longer feels like the future of AEW’s women’s division—she feels like a reminder of its first draft.
Absence Hurt Her More Than Any Loss Ever Could
Britt being gone for so long didn’t create anticipation. It created distance.
In wrestling, momentum is oxygen. When you disappear:
The audience moves on
The conversation changes
The division reshapes itself
By the time Britt returned, the crowd wasn’t asking “How does she fit now?”They were asking “Why is she still positioned like this?”
That’s a dangerous place for a top star—and it’s usually the signal that a change of scenery is overdue.
Why WWE Fits Britt Baker Better Than AEW Ever Could
This is the core of it: Britt Baker is a WWE-style star.
That’s not an insult. It’s a strength.
WWE values:
Clear character alignment
Strong verbal presence
Defined rivalries
Star vs star storytelling
Britt excels at all of that.
She doesn’t need to be the best worker in the ring. WWE has never required that. They require presence, and Britt has that in abundance when framed correctly.
In WWE:
Her promos feel like features, not interruptions
Her arrogance feels intentional, not grating
Her confidence feels earned, not protected
She stops being “overpushed” and starts being properly slotted.
Reinvention Without Reinventing
The beauty of Britt in WWE is that she doesn’t need a gimmick overhaul.
Keep:
The smug confidence
The verbal sharpness
The chip-on-the-shoulder energy
Adjust:
Slightly safer match pacing
Bigger emphasis on character beats
Stronger agents structuring her matches
WWE would protect Britt’s weaknesses while amplifying her strengths. AEW increasingly exposes both.
The Feuds That Instantly Justify the Jump
This is where the excitement really kicks in.
Britt Baker vs Charlotte Flair
Pure ego collision. Britt claiming she built a division vs Charlotte claiming she is the division. Promo-heavy, big-match energy, zero filler.
Britt Baker vs Becky Lynch
This one writes itself. Britt’s smug superiority vs Becky’s earned swagger. Crowd reactions would be nuclear.
Britt Baker vs Bayley
Underrated sleeper feud. Two heels who think they’re the smartest person in the room, trying to out-manipulate each other.
Britt Baker vs Rhea Ripley
A necessary reality check feud. Britt’s mouth vs Rhea’s menace. You don’t book Britt to dominate—you book her to survive.
Where Britt Actually Fits on the Card
Britt doesn’t need to walk in and win everything.
Her best role:
Top-of-the-division antagonist
Reliable PPV challenger
Promo driver for women’s storylines
She becomes the woman everyone wants to shut up—and that’s valuable.
Why This Move Benefits Everyone
For Britt:
Fresh audience
Clear creative direction
Matchups that highlight her strengths
For AEW:
The division fully moves forward
Less baggage, more clarity
Space for new voices
Sometimes, a departure isn’t a failure—it’s an admission that the story has reached its natural endpoint.
David Finlay: The Right Heir, the Right System, the Right Time

For a long time, David Finlay has existed in the shadow of expectation. Not because he lacks ability—but because his career has been defined by where he’s been asked to grow.
If Finlay jumps to WWE, it wouldn’t be a gamble.
It would be a homecoming.
The Finlay Name Already Lives in WWE

This part matters more than people admit.
David Finlay isn’t just “another NJPW guy”—he’s wrestling royalty with deep WWE roots:
His father, Fit Finlay, is a respected WWE legend and longtime backstage figure
His brother has already worked within the WWE system as well
That lineage doesn’t guarantee success—but it does guarantee understanding. David Finlay knows how WWE thinks, how it structures talent, and how it rewards consistency and toughness over flash.
This isn’t a culture shock move. It’s a translation.
Why Finlay Fits WWE Better Than AEW (By Far)
Let’s be blunt: David Finlay would drown in AEW.
Not because he’s bad—but because AEW prioritizes:
Flashy workrate
Indie credibility
Promo chaos
Constant reinvention
That’s not Finlay.
Finlay thrives on:
Physicality
Grit
Straightforward storytelling
“I will outlast you” energy
That style screams WWE. Especially modern WWE, which has leaned back into grounded, physical characters who feel real.
In AEW, Finlay becomes “another solid guy.”In WWE, he becomes a reliable threat.
Bullet Club Helped Him—but WWE Refines Him
Finlay’s Bullet Club leadership gave him edge, confidence, and presence—but it also forced him into a role that required more spectacle than he naturally provides.
WWE would strip that down.
Less:
Faction lore
Forced cool
Overcomplicated motivations
More:
Mean streak
Stiff offense
Clear alignment
This is where Finlay shines.
The NXT Blueprint: Where He Actually Thrives First
Finlay should not debut on Raw or SmackDown.
The correct path is obvious:
Immediate NXT signing
Positioned as a serious, no-nonsense heel
Built as a workhorse bruiser
NXT Championship Run (Yes, Really)
In NXT, Finlay stands out:
Older
Meaner
More grounded
Potential feuds:
Finlay vs Ethan Page
Finlay vs Ricky Saints
Finlay vs Myles Borne
An NXT Championship run doesn’t overexpose him—it validates him.
Main Roster Role: The Perfect Midcard Enforcer
Once he hits Raw or SmackDown, Finlay doesn’t need to chase world titles.
His sweet spot:
Midcard championships
Gatekeeper for rising babyfaces
Physical, believable heel
Think:
Intercontinental Title contender
United States Title workhorse
The guy you beat to prove toughness
That’s a valuable role—and one WWE always needs filled.
Matches That Quietly Work
Finlay vs Sheamus (obvious, brutal, perfect)
Finlay vs Gunther (hard-hitting credibility test)
Finlay vs Drew McIntyre (strength vs stubbornness)
These aren’t flashy matches.They’re important matches.
Character Direction: Less Talk, More Damage
WWE shouldn’t over-script Finlay.
Best version:
Short promos
Cold delivery
Emphasis on family legacy and personal pride
Let commentary tell the story. Let Finlay do the damage.
Why This Move Makes Sense Now
Finlay has already:
Proven he can lead
Proven he can hang at a high level
Proven he’s more than a tag guy
What he hasn’t had is a system that maximizes his strengths instead of highlighting his weaknesses.
WWE does that better than anyone.
Clark Connors & Drilla Moloney: Violence That Actually Belongs in AEW

If David Finlay feels like a WWE project waiting to happen, Clark Connors and Drilla Moloney are the opposite: a team whose ceiling is unlocked only in AEW.
This isn’t about star power or lineage.
It’s about fit.
Connors and Moloney aren’t polished legacy acts or slow-burn characters. They’re violent, frantic, unhinged—and that energy thrives in AEW far more than it ever would in WWE.
Why AEW Fits Them (and WWE Doesn’t)
Let’s be clear: this duo would struggle in WWE.
Not because they lack talent—but because WWE would sand them down:
Too loud
Too chaotic
Too fast
Too reckless
AEW, on the other hand, rewards that chaos.
AEW’s audience embraces:
Stiff strikes
Unpolished aggression
“Looks like it hurts” matches
Teams that feel genuinely dangerous
Connors and Moloney already wrestle like they belong on Dynamite.
War Dogs Without the Luggage
The beauty of Connors & Moloney heading to AEW is that they don’t need:
Bullet Club lore
NJPW backstory dumps
Long explanations
You present them simply as:
“Two men who enjoy hurting people together.”
That’s it. That’s the pitch.
AEW excels when it lets wrestlers be themselves, and these two don’t need reinvention—just a platform that doesn’t flinch when things get ugly.
In-Ring Style: AEW’s Tag Division Needs This
AEW’s tag division has depth, but it often lacks raw menace.
Connors & Moloney bring:
Relentless pacing
Power + speed combos
A sense that matches could spiral out of control
They don’t wrestle pretty. They wrestle angry.
That makes them perfect foils for AEW’s more polished or flashy teams.
Immediate Feuds That Make Sense
Connors & Moloney vs FTR
Old-school brutality vs modern fundamentals. Every match feels like a fight for respect.
Connors & Moloney vs The Young Bucks
Chaos vs control. The Bucks trying to outmaneuver two guys who don’t care about being outmaneuvered.
Connors & Moloney vs Brodido
This is violence for violence’s sake. Dark, stiff, physical—exactly AEW’s wheelhouse.
Connors & Moloney vs Top Flight
Speed vs savagery. A perfect way to establish them as killers without burying younger talent.
Presentation: Keep It Simple, Keep It Mean
AEW shouldn’t overthink them.
Entrance: Fast. Loud. No frills.
Promos: Short, hostile, dismissive.
Booking philosophy:
They don’t cheat
They don’t beg
They don’t explain
They just show up and hurt people.
Why They Don’t Need Finlay in AEW
This is important.
Without David Finlay, Connors and Moloney feel free. Finlay’s leadership and lineage make sense in WWE—but in AEW, Connors & Moloney work better as an autonomous wrecking crew.
They don’t need a mouthpiece.They don’t need a leader.They need opponents.
That independence actually raises their ceiling.
Ceiling in AEW: Dangerous, Not Dominant
They don’t need to run the division forever.
Their ideal role:
Credible tag title challengers
Tournament spoilers
The team nobody wants to draw
They become a stress test for AEW’s tag division—if you can survive them, you belong at the top.
Powerhouse Hobbs: WWE’s Next Real Monster (No Asterisks)

If the rumors are true—and all signs point to something already being in motion—Powerhouse Hobbs heading to WWE doesn’t feel speculative.
It feels obvious.
Hobbs is the rare modern wrestler who doesn’t need a rebrand, a reinvention, or a long explanation. He needs exactly one thing WWE specializes in better than anyone else:
A clear monster role, booked without fear.
And the blueprint already exists.
Hobbs as the new Oba Femi (But Ready Now)
Let’s address the comparison head-on.
Oba Femi is being positioned as the future: dominant, protected, unstoppable. Hobbs can be that immediately on a bigger stage.
Where AEW often hesitated—cooling him off, restarting pushes, surrounding him with stop-start factions—WWE would simplify everything.
Hobbs’ WWE pitch is brutally straightforward:
He is bigger
He is stronger
He ends matches quickly
No irony. No wink to the camera. No “project.”
Just destruction.
Why Hobbs Fits WWE Better Than AEW Ever Did
AEW tried to make Hobbs:
A faction guy
A talker
A long-match workrate power wrestler
None of that played to his strengths.
WWE thrives on:
Clear archetypes
Physical credibility
Visual storytelling
Hobbs’ presence alone tells a story. WWE understands how to frame that with:
Camera angles
Entrance pacing
Commentary emphasis
In AEW, Hobbs felt like a “guy who could be something.”In WWE, he becomes something immediately.
The Correct Path: NXT First, Then the Leap
Hobbs should not debut on Raw or SmackDown day one.
The smart route:
NXT debut as an unstoppable force
Short, violent matches
No losses for months
NXT Championship Run (Yes, Again)
Hobbs bulldozing through NXT does three things:
Establishes dominance
Trains the audience how to react
Gives WWE full confidence in presentation
He doesn’t need a long reign—he needs a decisive one.
Main Roster: The Monster You Have to Beat
Once called up, Hobbs fills a role WWE always needs but rarely commits to long-term:
The unbeatable obstacle
The measuring stick for toughness
The man who ends undercard momentum
Feuds That Immediately Work
Hobbs vs Bron Breakker Speed vs raw power. Two alpha athletes colliding.
Hobbs vs Gunther This is prestige violence. Chop vs spinebuster. No gimmicks.
Hobbs vs Drew McIntyre Big men, big strikes, big reactions.
Hobbs vs Oba Femi Short. Violent. Memorable. But much further down the line.
Booking Philosophy: What WWE Must Not Do
This part is crucial.
WWE cannot:
Over-script his promos
Turn him comedic
Stick him in a talk-heavy faction
Hobbs should talk only when necessary, and when he does, it should feel like a threat—not a monologue.
Ceiling: The Monster Who Actually Stays Strong
Hobbs doesn’t need to be champion immediately.
His true value is consistency:
Rare losses
Big wins
Short matches that feel impactful
He becomes the guy fans believe could win the world title—even if he doesn’t yet.
That belief is everything.
Bishop Dyer: The AEW Heel You Don’t Like—And That’s the Point

For years, Bishop Dyer has been one of wrestling’s most misunderstood performers. Loud critics. Quiet respect backstage. And now—after a recent AEW dark match appearance—the idea of Dyer landing in AEW suddenly feels less like fantasy and more like inevitability.
Yes, his style is very WWE.And that’s exactly why AEW could use him.
The Corbin Problem Was Never Talent—It Was Context
Let’s clear something up: Baron Corbin failing to connect long-term in WWE wasn’t about ability.
It was about:
Overexposure
Inconsistent character direction
Being asked to fill every unpopular role at once
Corbin was the guy WWE trusted to:
Get booed
Lose when needed
Anchor segments others didn’t want
That’s not failure—that’s utility.
Under the Bishop Dyer name, stripped of WWE baggage, that utility becomes intentional heat, not residual resentment.
AEW Needs a Different Kind of Heel
AEW is loaded with:
Great wrestlers
Cool heels
Crowd-favorite villains
What it lacks—consistently—is someone the audience doesn’t want to cheer for at all.
Bishop Dyer fills that gap.
He’s not flashy.He’s not ironic.He’s not trying to be cool.
He’s dismissive, mean, and grounded—and that contrast matters in AEW’s ecosystem.
The Don Callis Family Is the Perfect Landing Spot

If Dyer signs with AEW, he shouldn’t be a lone wolf for long.
Pairing him with the Don Callis Family solves everything.
Why the Fit Works
Callis handles the talking
Dyer handles the punishment
The group leans even harder into “corporate villain” energy
Dyer becomes the enforcer who doesn’t care about five-star matches—he cares about ending them.
And Callis loves guys who get heat just by existing.
“But His Style Is Too WWE”—That’s a Feature, Not a Bug
Yes, Bishop Dyer wrestles differently than most of AEW’s roster.
That’s the point.
AEW thrives on stylistic clashes:
Flyers vs technicians
Brawlers vs purists
Dyer brings:
Slower pacing
Power-based offense
Crowd hostility
Every match feels uncomfortable—and discomfort creates reaction.
Matches That Quietly Make Sense
Bishop Dyer vs Eddie Kingston Crowd emotion vs cold indifference. This would be loud.
Bishop Dyer vs Orange Cassidy Not comedy—frustration. Dyer as the guy who refuses to play along.
Bishop Dyer vs Konosuke Takeshita Internal Callis Family tension writes itself.
Bishop Dyer vs Samoa Joe Pure bad intentions. No filler.
Booking Philosophy: Less Is More
AEW should not overuse him.
Best approach:
Short matches
Big reactions
Strategic appearances
Dyer doesn’t need weekly main events. He needs purposeful heat.
Let him be the guy who:
Interrupts
Ruins things
Leaves fans annoyed
That’s value.
The Hardys: One Last Run, Done the Right Way

There are comeback runs that feel forced—and then there are ones that feel necessary. A final WWE run for The Hardys firmly belongs in the second category.
Not for titles. Not for reinvention. But for closure.
Why WWE Is the Only Place This Makes Sense
Let’s be honest: there’s nowhere else this story works.
AEW already happened—and ran its course. TNA has become a holding pattern. The indies don’t offer the scale.
Only WWE can give the Hardys what they actually need now:
Big stages
Controlled schedules
Clear story endings
A legacy-first approach
WWE doesn’t need weekly Hardy chaos. It needs moments.
This Isn’t About Proving Anything Anymore
Matt and Jeff don’t need to show they can still go. Everyone knows the bumps have already been taken, the ladders already climbed, the bodies already sacrificed.
This run should be about:
Respect
Recognition
Saying goodbye on their terms
Short matches. Smart layouts. No self-destruction.
How to Bring Them Back (The Right Way)
Debut:
A surprise appearance, not a drawn-out tease
Music hits, crowd erupts, done
No “are they still good?” framing.The reaction alone justifies the return.
The Matches That Actually Matter
Hardys vs The Usos
This is the generational handoff. High-energy, emotional, symbolic.
Hardys vs Motor City Machine Guns
Respect-based storytelling. Two teams who love tag wrestling for different reasons.
Hardys vs Judgment Day
Youth, edge, modern WWE presentation vs pure legacy. A chance to elevate newer acts without risk.
One Final Ladder Match (One. Final.)
Not chaos. Not excess.A carefully planned showcase—probably at WrestleMania.
Then never again.
Titles? Maybe. But That’s Not the Point
A short tag title reign wouldn’t hurt—but it’s optional.
What matters more:
The pop
The farewell
The Hall of Fame moment
Let them chase once. Let them come close. Let the story be about heart, not hardware.
The End Should Be Clear and Undeniable
No ambiguity. No “maybe one more run.”
The final image should be:
Hardys standing together
Crowd chanting
Acknowledgement of the journey
Then they walk away.
Why This Ending Matters
The Hardys helped define:
TLC matches
Modern tag wrestling
WWE’s Attitude and Ruthless Aggression eras
Their legacy deserves an ending that feels intentional, not accidental.
A WWE retirement run doesn’t erase the past—it honors it.
One last pop. One last climb. One last bow.
And then? They finally rest.
Katsuhiko Nakajima: I Want the World to See Him—Even If the World Isn’t Ready

I’ll say this upfront, as someone who genuinely loves watching him wrestle:
I want Katsuhiko Nakajima on a bigger stage.I want more people to understand how special he is.
But I also know this uncomfortable truth:an American promotion would break him—or worse, misunderstand him.
Why I Want More for Nakajima
Nakajima is one of the last wrestlers who feels dangerous in a way you can’t fake.
Not “monster booking.”Not “finisher spam.”Actual danger.
Every kick feels like it might end a career. Every stare-down feels personal. He doesn’t perform violence—he commits to it.
As a fan, it’s frustrating knowing that someone this intense, this legitimate, this uncompromising still exists largely outside the mainstream conversation. He deserves packed buildings, loud reactions, and legacy-defining matches that get talked about globally.
He deserves a bigger stage.
…But Not an American One
And this is where it gets complicated.
Nakajima does not fit American wrestling culture.
WWE
Too polished. Too scripted. Too performative.Nakajima doesn’t emote for the camera—he intimidates the room. WWE would either water him down or try to turn him into a “character,” and the moment that happens, the magic is gone.
AEW
I love AEW. But it’s still the wrong fit.
AEW celebrates intensity, yes—but it also thrives on:
Cool heels
Fan-approved violence
“Isn’t this awesome?” moments
Nakajima’s violence isn’t awesome. It’s uncomfortable.
He doesn’t wink at the crowd. He doesn’t seek approval. He doesn’t feel safe—and AEW crowds, rightly or wrongly, expect a certain mutual understanding with performers.
Nakajima doesn’t play that game.
TNA
Not even close. Too small, too safe, too soft for what he represents.
Nakajima Needs a Promotion That Treats Violence Seriously

This is why Pro Wrestling NOAH has always felt like home—and why a return to NJPW makes sense, but only in a very specific way.
NOAH understands Nakajima because NOAH understands suffering.
In NOAH:
Matches aren’t about spectacle
They’re about endurance
Pride
Consequence
Nakajima fits into that world not as a novelty, but as a standard-bearer.
The Difference Between “Exposure” and “Belonging”
Here’s the thing I struggle with as a fan:
I want Nakajima to be seen.But I don’t want him to be changed.
American promotions wouldn’t know how to frame him without softening the edges:
Shorter matches
Safer strikes
Clear babyface/heel dynamics
Nakajima lives in the gray area.He’s not a hero.He’s not a villain.He’s a man who hurts people because that’s how he proves he exists.
That kind of wrestler needs the right stage—not just a bigger one.
Why NJPW (or NOAH) Is the Compromise
If Nakajima is going to expand his footprint, NJPW is the furthest west he should go.
There, he can:
Wrestle at full intensity
Face opponents who won’t flinch
Be presented as a threat, not a curiosity
Matches against people like Shingo, Ishii, or even a returning Shibata-adjacent style opponent mean more than any American debut pop ever could.
Calvin Tankman: Start in TNA, Then Let the World Catch Up

There are wrestlers who feel like finished products—and then there are wrestlers who feel like inevitability.
Calvin Tankman is the second kind.
If you’re asking where Tankman should land next, the answer isn’t immediately AEW or WWE. It’s TNA—not as a ceiling, but as a launchpad.
Why Calvin Tankman Is the Perfect “Next” Star
Tankman has that rare mix you can’t teach:
Size
Athleticism
Natural menace
Believability
When Tankman throws someone, it doesn’t look impressive—it looks correct. Like gravity is working the way it’s supposed to.
That’s why people who’ve seen him immediately get it. The problem isn’t talent—it’s exposure.
Why TNA Is the Right First Step
TNA is uniquely suited to Tankman right now.
It offers:
National TV visibility
A roster that values physicality
Space to grow without overexposure
TNA has historically been great at spotlighting power wrestlers who feel real. Tankman wouldn’t be rushed or lost—he’d be featured.
How You Book Tankman in TNA
Presentation:
No gimmicks
No comedy
Just controlled violence
Tankman should arrive as a man who doesn’t chase opportunities—opportunities run into him.
Early Feuds
Tankman vs Josh Alexander
Tankman vs Moose
Tankman vs Eddie Edwards
These are credibility matches that instantly frame him as a threat.
The Long Game: Becoming “That Guy”
Tankman doesn’t need to win everything immediately.
What he needs:
Competitive losses
Hard-fought wins
Gradual elevation
By year two, Tankman feels like a cornerstone, not a novelty.
That’s when the bigger companies start circling.
Why AEW and WWE Come Later (And Why That’s Smart)
Tankman will eventually outgrow TNA.
And when he does, the fit becomes clearer.
AEW
Tankman as a bruiser who can work with:
Samoa Joe
Hobbs
Moxley
AEW’s audience would embrace his physicality once they’ve been properly introduced to it.
WWE
WWE would love Tankman once he’s established.
By then, he’s:
More polished
More confident
More recognizable
That’s when he enters NXT as a featured act—not a tryout.
Why More People Need to See Him Now
Calvin Tankman is the kind of wrestler fans discover and immediately ask:
“How is this guy not everywhere?”
He doesn’t need viral moments.He needs reps on a visible stage.
TNA gives him that.AEW or WWE eventually magnify it.
CJ Perry: Start Small, Talk Loud, Build Something Real

Compared to other people (maybe) I am. afan. ofLana/CJ Perry, but as a manager more than a wrestler.
A CJ Perry return to wrestling doesn’t need fireworks, contracts waved on TV, or instant “big deal” framing. In fact, the smartest version of her comeback is the opposite.
Start small. Start intentional. Start in TNA.
Because CJ Perry still has one elite skill that never left her:👉 commanding attention when she speaks.
Why CJ Perry Works Best as a Manager (Now)
This isn’t about going back in the ring full-time. It’s about leaning into what she’s always been great at:
Presentation
Presence
Selling importance
Making other people feel bigger
Modern wrestling badly needs managers again—especially ones who feel legitimate on camera. CJ Perry fits that role perfectly in 2026 wrestling.
She doesn’t need to bump.She doesn’t need to wrestle weekly.She needs a mic, a client, and a reason to exist.
TNA Is the Right Place to Reintroduce Her
TNA Wrestling is quietly becoming the best “reset” environment in wrestling.
For CJ Perry, TNA offers:
Lower pressure
More creative flexibility
Room to experiment
A spotlight without overexposure
Instead of being judged against her WWE past, she gets to define her next chapter.
The Daria Rae Pairing: Smart, Subtle, Effective

Aligning CJ Perry with Daria Rae is exactly the kind of move that benefits both sides.
Why It Works
Daria Rae gains instant credibility and presentation
CJ gets a fresh canvas, not a retread
The pairing feels purposeful, not nostalgic
CJ becomes the voice.Daria becomes the force.
This is classic wrestling logic—and it still works.
Booking Philosophy: Don’t Overdo It
CJ Perry shouldn’t be everywhere.
Best use:
Ringside presence
Occasional promos
Strategic interference
She makes moments feel important instead of flooding the show with herself.
And because TNA’s audience values character clarity, CJ’s role would feel additive, not distracting.
The Long-Term Possibility: WWE, But Later
Let’s be clear: A WWE return isn’t off the table.
But it shouldn’t be immediate.
The best-case path looks like this:
Successful TNA run as a manager
Re-establish credibility outside WWE
Become desirable again—not nostalgic
Then, if WWE calls, CJ arrives as:
A seasoned on-screen personality
A manager or spokesperson
Someone who elevates others, not herself
That version of CJ Perry fits modern WWE far better than trying to replay the past.
Why This Comeback Actually Makes Sense
CJ Perry doesn’t need to “prove” anything.
She needs to:
Be framed correctly
Used intentionally
Placed where talking still matters
TNA gives her that space. Daria Rae gives her purpose. WWE remains a possible destination—not a requirement.
Saraya: Coming Home to a Division She Helped Create—But No Longer Controls

A Saraya return to WWE wouldn’t be about shock value or nostalgia pops. It would be about closure, evolution, and relevance—in that order.
Similar to the situations with Jericho and The Hardys.
Because Saraya isn’t the same person who left WWE years ago. And WWE’s women’s division isn’t the one she helped drag into the modern era.
That tension is exactly why the story works.
Her WWE History Still Matters—A Lot

Saraya (as Paige) wasn’t just a champion. She was a turning point.
She represented:
The end of the Divas-era expectations
The beginning of women being taken seriously on the main roster
A bridge between indie-style wrestling and WWE presentation
She didn’t just win titles—she changed the standard. And WWE has never forgotten that, even if the division outgrew her absence.
A return isn’t erasing her exit. It’s contextualizing it.
The New Saraya: Sharper, Louder, More Honest
This version of Saraya isn’t the wide-eyed revolutionary.
She’s:
More confrontational
Less apologetic
Fully aware that the division passed her by
That makes her character richer.
She doesn’t come back claiming to save women’s wrestling.She comes back asking a much more dangerous question:
“If I helped build this… why don’t I belong in it anymore?”
That insecurity—masked as arrogance—is money.
WWE’s Women’s Division Is Ready for Her (Again)
This is a different era:
Deeper roster
More main-event credibility
Less reliance on one or two stars
Saraya doesn’t need to carry the division anymore—and that’s a good thing.
She slots in as:
A veteran with something to prove
A living reminder of where the division came from
A threat, but not the threat
That balance makes her compelling instead of overwhelming.
The Feuds That Actually Mean Something
Saraya vs Charlotte Flair
This is legacy vs legacy—but with resentment baked in. Charlotte became the face of the division Saraya helped legitimize. That tension doesn’t need invention; it already exists.
Saraya vs Becky Lynch
Becky represents the era that exploded after Saraya left. Becky didn’t just thrive—she transcended. That makes her the perfect foil.
Saraya vs Natalya
Quietly one of the most emotional matchups possible. Two women who survived eras, injuries, and expectations—without ever being the company’s favorite.
Saraya vs AJ Lee (If It Ever Happens)
This is the holy grail. Two women who changed WWE in completely different ways. Even a stare-down would feel historic.
How WWE Should Book Her (This Is Key)
Saraya should not:
Win immediately
Be overprotected
Be treated as fragile
She should:
Lose close, meaningful matches
Show frustration
Adapt her style
Her story isn’t dominance—it’s adjustment.
What This Run Is Really About
Saraya’s WWE return isn’t about reclaiming the spotlight.
It’s about asking:
Where do pioneers fit once the revolution succeeds?
What happens when the future arrives without you?
That’s a story WWE can tell better than anyone—because it’s real.
Bojack: WWE’s Next “They Can’t Teach That” Star

Every few years, WWE finds someone who makes scouts, trainers, and bookers all say the same thing—sometimes out loud, sometimes under their breath:
“Yeah… this one’s different.”
Bojack feels like that kind of arrival.
Not because he’s flashy. Not because he’s viral. But because he checks the boxes that can’t be manufactured once you miss the window.
Age Matters—and Bojack Is Hitting It at the Perfect Time
This is the first huge advantage: timing.
Bojack is young enough to be molded, but old enough to:
Understand ring psychology
Control his strength
Work safely while still looking dangerous
That sweet spot is gold to WWE. He’s not a long-term “project,” but he’s also not someone whose ceiling is already set.
WWE doesn’t need to rush him.They can build him correctly.
Strength That Looks Legit (Not Gimmicked)
Plenty of wrestlers are billed as strong.Very few look strong doing normal things.
Bojack’s power feels:
Casual
Effortless
Almost disrespectful
When he lifts someone, it doesn’t look like a spot—it looks like physics being ignored. WWE loves that kind of visual because it translates instantly to casual viewers.
No explanation needed. No hype video required.
You just watch him once and go, “Oh.”
Why WWE Is the Right Place for Him
This is important: Bojack would not benefit from an indie-style “figure it out yourself” environment.
WWE gives him:
Structured development
Clear character direction
Agents who specialize in big men
Camera work that amplifies size and power
Instead of being just another strong guy having long matches, Bojack becomes an attraction.
WWE understands how to pace monsters—and that’s the difference between longevity and burnout.
The Correct Path: NXT, but Treated Seriously
Bojack should start in NXT, but not as background talent.
Early presentation:
Short matches
Clean wins
Minimal promos
Let the audience learn him through destruction.
Once comfortable, you slowly layer in:
Confidence
Attitude
A mean streak
An eventual NXT Championship run wouldn’t feel forced—it would feel inevitable.
Main Roster Role: The Power Test
On Raw or SmackDown, Bojack doesn’t need to talk much or chase world titles immediately.
His role:
The guy people fear getting matched with
The obstacle for rising babyfaces
The power benchmark
You don’t beat Bojack to look clever. You beat him to prove toughness.
Matches That Instantly Make Sense
Bojack vs Bron Breakker
Bojack vs Gunther
Bojack vs Drew McIntyre
Bojack vs Bronson Reed
Bojack vs Sheamus
These aren’t about flips or speed.They’re about impact.
WWE crowds understand those stories instantly.
Why Bojack Feels Like a Long-Term Investment
The key thing with Bojack is restraint.
If WWE:
Protects him
Limits his exposure
Books his power consistently
He becomes someone fans believe in—even when he loses.
That belief is everything.
Danhausen: The Perfect Kind of Weird for NXT

Every wrestling ecosystem needs a pressure valve.Someone strange. Someone funny. Someone who shouldn’t work—but absolutely does.
That’s where Danhausen comes in—and why NXT might be the most natural home he’s ever had.
Comedy Wrestling Isn’t a Flaw—It’s the Entire Point
Danhausen isn’t pretending to be something he’s not.
He’s:
A comedy wrestler
A character-first act
A walking punchline who understands wrestling better than people give him credit for
The mistake some promotions make is trying to justify him.
NXT wouldn’t need to.
NXT already lives in a world where:
Characters are exaggerated
Gimmicks are embraced
The tone shifts naturally between serious and absurd
Danhausen doesn’t disrupt that world—he belongs in it.
Why NXT Is a Better Fit Than the Main Roster (At First)
Main roster WWE thrives on scale and spectacle.NXT thrives on experimentation.
That matters for Danhausen.
In NXT:
He can appear without overexplanation
He can interact with other weirdos organically
He can lose without losing value
He can win without needing credibility inflation
He’s not there to headline WrestleMania.He’s there to make the show feel alive.
The Merch Factor (This Cannot Be Ignored)
Danhausen is a merch machine waiting for the right distribution system.
WWE excels at:
Eye-catching designs
Kid-friendly novelty items
Viral gimmick products
Face paint. Curses. Catchphrases. Plush dolls. Shirts that don’t even need wrestling context.
You don’t need to explain Danhausen to sell Danhausen. You just need to put him on a shelf.
How NXT Should Use Him (Keep It Loose)
Danhausen doesn’t need long matches or complex feuds.
Best usage:
Short matches
Backstage segments
Unexpected run-ins
Commentary interruptions
Let him exist around the show as much as on it.
That’s where his value lives.
Interactions That Write Themselves
Danhausen annoying authority figures
Danhausen trying (and failing) to curse dominant heels
Danhausen aligning briefly with other oddball characters
Danhausen accidentally costing someone a match
These aren’t throwaway moments—they’re texture. And texture is what separates a fun wrestling show from a flat one.
Why This Works Long-Term
Danhausen doesn’t age like a workrate wrestler.
He ages like a cartoon character.
That gives WWE flexibility:
NXT staple
Occasional Raw cameo
Royal Rumble surprise entrant
Seasonal attraction
He never has to climb the card to stay relevant.
The Key Rule: Don’t Overthink Him
If WWE signs Danhausen and immediately tries to:
Explain his lore
Add seriousness
Force long matches
It fails.
If they simply let him:
Be weird
Be funny
Be memorable
It succeeds.
Anna Jay: The Stardom Excursion That Could Change Everything

Sometimes a move isn’t about escaping failure—it’s about finding the version of yourself that hasn’t existed yet.
That’s why Anna Jay heading to Stardom makes so much sense. Not as a demotion. Not as a punishment.
As an investment.
Anna Jay’s Ceiling Is Higher Than Her Current Reality
Anna Jay has always had the tools:
Look
Presence
Athletic baseline
TV comfort
What she hasn’t had—through no real fault of her own—is deep, consistent in-ring seasoning.
AEW gave her exposure early. Maybe too early. She was learning on live TV, in a division that was still learning itself. That’s a brutal environment for growth.
What she needs now isn’t more screen time.She needs reps.
Why Stardom Is the Best Teacher in Wrestling

Stardom isn’t just a promotion—it’s a finishing school.
Wrestlers who go there don’t just improve:
Their footwork sharpens
Their timing tightens
Their strikes gain intent
Their confidence becomes earned
In Stardom, Anna Jay wouldn’t be “a project.”She’d be a student, and that’s powerful.
The joshi system forces wrestlers to:
Fight through fatigue
Adapt to faster pacing
Sell punishment realistically
Compete against women who don’t slow down for you
That environment builds killers.
The Style Match Is Sneakily Perfect
Anna Jay’s strengths—when they show—are intensity and aggression.
Stardom refines that by:
Demanding stiffness
Rewarding urgency
Punishing hesitation
This isn’t about flashy offense. It’s about learning how to fight.
Over time, Anna’s matches would stop feeling “constructed” and start feeling inevitable.
The Matches That Would Accelerate Her Growth
Even short Stardom runs create massive development jumps.
Anna Jay against:
High-speed strikers
Relentless grapplers
Veterans who won’t carry her
Every loss teaches something.Every win feels earned.
That’s the difference.
Character Reset Without Reinvention
The beauty of an excursion is that Anna Jay doesn’t need a gimmick overhaul.
Stardom lets her:
Strip things down
Focus on wrestling first
Rebuild confidence quietly
She comes back not louder—but sharper.
The Payoff: A Different Anna Jay Entirely
When Anna returns from Stardom, she doesn’t come back as:
“Promising”
“Still learning”
“Needs time”
She comes back as someone who’s:
Been tested
Been humbled
Been forged
And suddenly, the conversations change.
Why More Wrestlers Should Do This (But Especially Her)
Not everyone benefits from an excursion.
Anna Jay does.
She’s young enough to absorb everything. Talented enough to apply it. And recognizable enough that the payoff will be obvious the moment she steps back into a major spotlight.
Tommaso Ciampa: Freedom, Fire… and the Fear of Disappearing

There might not be a wrestler on this list who needs creative freedom more than Tommaso Ciampa.
And that’s exactly why the idea of Ciampa going to All Elite Wrestling is both thrilling—and terrifying at the same time.
Because if AEW gets it right, Ciampa could have one of the best late-career runs in wrestling.
If they don’t?He vanishes.
Letting Ciampa Be Ciampa Again
Ciampa’s peak wasn’t about titles or match length. It was about obsession.
The Blackheart version of Ciampa thrived on:
Minimal entrance
Maximum intensity
Matches that felt personal, not athletic
Promos that sounded like confessions, not scripts
AEW, in theory, is perfect for that version of him.
No overproduced monologues. No forced catchphrases.Just rage, bitterness, and violence.
That’s Ciampa’s language.
Why AEW Is So Tempting for Him
AEW offers things WWE can’t—or won’t—right now:
Long, physical matches
Blood-feud storytelling
Creative trust
A roster full of wrestlers who want to fight him
On paper, Ciampa vs:
Jon Moxley
Bryan Danielson
Eddie Kingston
feels like instant classic material.
These aren’t “dream matches” in the flashy sense.They’re matches that would hurt.
And that’s where Ciampa lives.
The Big Risk: AEW’s Roster Is Crowded
Here’s the concern you can’t ignore.
AEW is stacked with:
Elite-level wrestlers
Beloved fan favorites
Established main-event voices
Ciampa wouldn’t walk in as the guy.He’d walk in as one of many.
And AEW has a track record—fair or not—of letting excellent wrestlers drift when there isn’t a clear, immediate plan.
For someone like Ciampa, that’s dangerous.
Momentum is everything for him.If he cools off, he doesn’t coast—he stalls.
How AEW Has to Book Him
This is non-negotiable.
Ciampa cannot debut quietly.He cannot “see how the crowd reacts.”He cannot be a tournament filler.
He must arrive with purpose.
The Correct Debut
Interrupt a violent segment
Lay someone out
Say very little
Let the audience feel him before they fully process him.
Feuds That Justify the Risk
Ciampa vs Jon Moxley Two men who don’t know how to turn it off. This sets Ciampa’s tone immediately.
Ciampa vs Eddie Kingston Raw emotion. Mutual respect. Mutual disgust. This is AEW storytelling at its best.
Ciampa vs Bryan Danielson Technical brutality meets psychological warfare. Ciampa losing here still elevates him.
What Ciampa Should Not Be
AEW cannot turn Ciampa into:
“Great match guy #17”
A nostalgia act
A silent background killer
He needs stories, not just opponents.
Ciampa is at his best when he believes the world owes him something—and he’s willing to bleed to collect.
The Ceiling: Short, Intense, Unforgettable
Ciampa doesn’t need a five-year plan.
He needs:
One great run
One or two defining feuds
One stretch where people remember why he mattered
AEW is capable of giving him that.
The question is whether they’ll commit to it.
Moose: Good Enough for Anywhere—But Better Off Proving It in AEW

If there’s one wrestler on this list who genuinely fits everywhere, it’s Moose.
That’s not hype. That’s résumé.
Moose has size.Moose has presence.Moose has legitimacy.
You could drop him into WWE, AEW, NJPW, or keep him in TNA, and he wouldn’t feel out of place for even a second.
But if the goal is showing the full range of what Moose can actually do, then AEW might be the place where his ceiling finally gets tested—not just assumed.
The Universal Fit Few Wrestlers Actually Have
Moose is rare in modern wrestling because he bridges worlds naturally:
Big enough for WWE
Athletic enough for AEW
Serious enough for Japan
Polished enough for television
Nothing about him feels like a stretch.
That’s why his TNA run has worked so well. He’s been:
A believable world champion
A top heel
A reliable main-event presence
He never felt like a placeholder. He felt right.
Why AEW Might Be the Best Next Chapter
All Elite Wrestling isn’t lacking big men—but it is lacking big men who can move like Moose without being pigeonholed.
AEW would let Moose:
Have longer, more athletic matches
Work with a wider variety of styles
Showcase speed, not just power
That matters, because Moose is more than a monster.He’s a hybrid.
In AEW, he’s not just the guy who hits spears—he’s the guy who can keep up, adapt, and still overpower.
The Matches That Prove the Point
These aren’t “dream matches.”They’re validation matches.
Moose vs Samoa Joe
Moose vs Powerhouse Hobbs
Moose vs Jon Moxley
Moose vs Claudio Castagnoli
Each one highlights a different strength:
Power
Toughness
Endurance
Athletic credibility
Win or lose, Moose comes out looking like a top-tier professional.
Why WWE Also Works (But Differently)
To be clear: Moose would succeed in WWE.
World Wrestling Entertainment would frame him as:
A physical force
A spectacle
A presence-first performer
That’s not wrong—but it is narrower.
WWE would emphasize:
Look
Power spots
Shorter, more controlled matches
AEW would let Moose show why he belongs at that level, not just that he does.
The TNA Legacy Factor
Moose leaving TNA wouldn’t diminish his run there—it would validate it.
He’s already done the hard part:
Carried the company
Headlined shows
Elevated titles
At this point, staying forever risks comfort. Leaving creates comparison—and Moose is good enough to survive it.
The Ideal Role in AEW
Moose doesn’t need to be crowned immediately.
His perfect AEW role:
Upper-card threat
Rotational main-eventer
Credible challenger who feels dangerous every time
He’s the guy fans believe could win the big one—because he looks like someone who should.
That belief is currency.



Comments