Predicting How And When The WWE Boom Will END
Nothing ever lasts forever.
WWE has a lot going for it. A lot.
At time of writing, as a result of WWE’s textured inter-connected universe, it feels like there are several excellent prospective cards for WrestleMania 41. Even in WWE’s better periods historically, there was just one.
The Rock Vs. Cody Rhodes; Kevin Owens Vs. Sami Zayn; CM Punk Vs. Roman Reigns; CM Punk Vs. GUNTHER; Roman Reigns Vs. Jacob Fatu; CM Punk Vs. Kevin Owens; GUNTHER Vs. John Cena; CM Punk Vs. John Cena…
Every permutation is made possible - and logical - through Paul Levesque’s deft handling of the main event scene. Casting Roman Reigns as the narrative throughline has created a seemingly endless source of conflict and interpersonal dynamics. Roman’s impact on the characters is profound. Sami Zayn has forgiven Roman, drawing the ire of Seth Rollins. Drew McIntyre, long gone, is using this leverage to forge an alliance with Seth - and Kevin Owens, screwed by the Bloodline over and over again, is not best pleased either. Nor was he pleased with Cody Rhodes, informing their late contender for Feud of the Year - closing in on Drew McIntyre Vs. CM Punk, the latter another character whose deep history of conflict has been mined to expert effect.
Never mind ‘Mania; it’s December, and already, this careful, attentive world-building hints at next year’s WarGames match: the babyface Bloodline versus the corrupted former babyfaces who can never let themselves forgive. Which, incidentally, allows Sami Zayn to resonate as a fantastic, stand-up guy.
Beyond April, WWE has a lot of great matches left.
CM Punk Vs. Cody Rhodes, premised on who really delivered change, is a bonafide WrestleMania main event. Cody Vs. Randy Orton is a long summer ‘25 trilogy. GUNTHER Vs. Roman Reigns is a fascinating prospect.
Tinged with a sense of must-see finality - wrestling always gets away with this, even though the concept of retirement is just another work - John Cena’s “last” run will yield a series of huge matches. Provided, of course, that he raises his in-ring standards considerably.
What’s more, Levesque is very effective at spacing those matches out. He knows that overkill is the fastest means of burning out the audience. He draws criticism amongst some fans for being “stingy”, and not, to use a recent example, promoting a Cody Rhodes WWE title defence at Survivor Series: WarGames. You could argue that WWE’s ‘PLE’ record is hardly incredible. Levesque employs the TakeOver formula without generating the same acclaim. It remains an excellent strategy. Wrestling fans have long campaigned for an offseason. It would be nice to anticipate a brand new storytelling cycle, to idly fantasy book it yourself, to make predictions. Given time to agonise over what you’re missing is crucial to the real sports experience. The opening round of Premier League action is awesome to watch unfold after a long summer - so much so that a routine fixture between two middling teams feels like a must-watch.
Levesque’s strategy of omission is the closest wrestling gets.
Levesque is also fond of a long title reign. This can feel a bit repetitive and dry, week-to-week, but it’s effective. His champions - mostly - feel like champions. This careful strategy could one day drive forward a Sami Zayn World title push. The World titles still feel elusive and prestigious, and Sami is more than a sentimental, well-liked favourite. The quarter hours he drew on the Roman Reigns chase were ridiculously impressive.
All of which is to state that WWE is golden until WrestleMania 42 in 2026 at the absolute least.
People have (correctly) identified the Performance Center as a dysfunctional system that is not fit for purpose; to illustrate that point, Ridge Holland was the territory’s top heel in the autumn, drawing the worst numbers in well over a year (despite the move from cable to network).
But then, people have said that for years and years. WWE has consistently found ways to not let its official talent development department get in the way of promoting talent effectively. Ridge, spoiler, probably isn’t going to headline WrestleMania - but WWE could sign Ricky Starks and realise his immense potential.
There are signs, however, that WWE is hardly an invincible force. The gulf between the top and the bottom of the card is massive. In the autumn of 2023, three belts, not without prestige, were awarded to acts that aren’t exactly over: DIY, War Raiders, Shinsuke Nakamura. Levesque has broken his own rule - that the belt shouldn’t make the man - rather a lot recently.
An injury crisis at the top of the card could cause alarm, but then again, Drew McIntyre was a perennial nearlyman. It was always difficult to determine how much of a star he really was. In 2024, under Levesque’s direction, he enjoyed his best year yet.
Levesque fronted Evolution, and famously said to Seth Rollins that one must adapt or perish to survive.
As a booker, in what is a strong omen for the future, he has done precisely that. Levesque is smart, and, in almost shocking contrast to his in-ring career, is in harmony with his audience, doesn’t impose himself (where it matters), and is capable of change.
In the mid-2010s, he thrilled the hardcore fans that once despised him with his NXT brand. This was a shocking babyface turn. If Tommaso Ciampa and Johnny Gargano turned up in 2006, he’d have buried DIY in a “handicap” tag match; 12 years later, Levesque built his workrate brand around them for you and your friend Mark to enjoy. Two years later, the Gargano Vs. Ciampa rivalry reached a nadir of parody - One Final Beat was a truly pathetic bid for emotional intensity - but Levesque learned from his humiliating defeat to AEW’s Tony Khan in the Wednesday Night War.
Main roster 2024 is very much removed from peak NXT. Intelligent enough to grasp that the advertised Dream Match banger has lost its lustre, Levesque has reimagined his vision of WWE as a “movie about a sport”, defining it as the “cinema” the fans praise it for. Match quality is not a particular emphasis; Levesque instead has gone full bore with soapy storytelling, the matches often incidental to that. He sensed the shift in the audience, and no longer grabs the closest rave-reviewed indie guy and positions them in his main events.
Here’s the thing, though: Levesque is no revolutionary. He is a reactive listener more than an inspired trendsetter. If things go awry, and they always do, can he be trusted to imagine WWE out of the doldrums?
Even if he can’t, so what?
The good news, for WWE fans, is that any downfall might not necessarily play out in the manner to which most wrestling fans are accustomed. Vince McMahon was never going to voluntarily resign; thus, when he lost it, and he lost it badly more than once, WWE entered a creative tailspin. AEW is a mess, but it’s Tony Khan’s company; he isn’t about to relinquish control.
WCW’s ownership structure allowed for actual change, but they were stupid. Endeavor is not that.
If Levesque does fail, he will be replaced. He won’t be allowed to fail for long in this new world. It’s not his company, he doesn’t own the majority of voting shares, and while he might get along famously with Ari Emanuel for all anybody knows, it’s business.
Every boom ends. Golden Era, Attitude Era, WCW ‘96, New Japan resurgence: nothing lasts forever. The difference now is that WWE is partnered with an entity, the UFC, built on expertise in the fight promotion game.
WWE creative is a well-oiled machine within a well-oiled machine, almost the antithesis to where everything stood in 2019.
AEW is…not a well-oiled machine. It’s a mess. Tony Khan might have punched himself out of the fight. He’s tiring, and having done everything - way too much - he has no hands left to play. He has exhausted his audience by bringing everything back, embracing every style, and normalising the “jump” in a signing spree that has broken his narrative hierarchy. The idea of a competing promotion fighting back feels utterly remote. It seems like a lot of the disillusioned fans who migrated to AEW just wanted WWE to be good again, and those fans are now reenergised; at the same time, WWE has developed a fabled new, young audience.
There is no defiant, in-touch challenger brand primed to unseat WWE. WWE’s decline will be of its own making - but how, exactly, will that happen?
The Bloodline Saga will only end after it peaks. WWE, surely, won’t end it in a bold, conclusive way. It’s not merely a monster hit of an act in and of itself; it is the fulcrum of the entire promotion, spawning, indirectly, virtually every other main event programme of note.
Roman could always turn heel again, but that might well be the moment it starts to eat itself and become a transparent ploy to make things happen, as opposed to a genuinely well-constructed story with believable characters.
If this era of “cinema” is what the fans are into, and not the wrestling - Attitude Era fans enjoyed the edginess and the sexualised tone more than the wrestling - then the cinema might be close to closing. The Bloodline reeks of something that may not age terribly well (little in wrestling does to begin with). The group has already turned face. We might be in extra innings already. People got bored of the hulk-up and the leg drop; eventually, they’ll tire of the ref bump and the hooded figure reveal.
What’s left, in this case, is mere wrestling stories without Roman Reigns tying each plot together. Without that connective tissue, Levesque is prone to dragging things out (see: the agonisingly slow death of the Judgment Day). This is something that has haunted Levesque throughout his career as a promoter. Precedent informs this forecast. Look at what happened when both DIY and the Undisputed Era disbanded: complete and total disinterest.
In parallel, this feeling, of interest slipping away, may be compounded by the all-important factor that destroys everything: the super-serving of content.
WWE faced this in the late 2010s. AEW, by adding Collision to the schedule and refusing to shorten what are now monthly pay-per-views, is experiencing it presently. WWE is about to do too much. SummerSlam is going two nights in 2025. Raw and SmackDown will total six hours per week imminently. Saturday Night’s Main Event will further strain the sense of anticipation and the special feeling of Levesque’s tentpole events. Too much of anything is always too much, but an enterprise of capitalism is cursed through greed to never, ever learn that lesson.
WWE will always be popular to a major extent, and will continue to operate as the market leader - but this current boom?
It starts to fade away as the leaves fall in 2026. WrestleMania will reignite interest, but the metrics - ratings, houses, Peacock viewing figures - will support the actual decline by the late spring of 2027.
WWE will be fine, but it won’t be hot.