10 Best WWE Matches Of 2017

2017 wasn't a banner year for WWE, defined as it was by cynicism, hopelessly misguided experimentation born from Network Era luxury, and a disgustingly disproportionate emphasis on talent most are sick to the back teeth of.

Even in the ring, the escape from the dirge, the arena in which the talent simply show off that talent, a raft of matches underwhelmed. Brock Lesnar Vs. Samoa Joe was merely good; Lesnar Vs. Braun Strowman was a borderline inconvenience. The programme between AJ Styles and Kevin Owens failed to deliver on its promise because it was stymied in order to promise Kevin Owens Vs. Shane McMahon. Exciting though they were in the moment, the multiple multi-woman matches suffer in retrospect as a result of their multitude and meaninglessness.

Samoa Joe Vs. Sami Zayn - a theoretical dream match - was, in reality, a deflating opener to Fastlane. It stretched the premise of a squash to a tedious, almost depressing breaking point. Dolph Ziggler Vs. Shinsuke Nakamura, at Backlash, resolutely failed to accomplish its showcase bout brief. WWE's underdog version of "Shin" was hardly worth showcasing.

But, when WWE excelled, it f*cking excelled...

N.B. NXT matches are exempt; if they weren't, the list would surely look a lot different.

In many ways, Dean Ambrose is the perfect tag team wrestler: a swarming, rash-like, exposed id unable to say die, there are few you'd want more in your corner - a testament to his vastly underrated psychology game, deployed to awesome effect here.

Cesaro swung him into the steps with such brutal force that, momentarily, Michael Cole impersonated a human being with shocking authenticity. "Oh my God!" he screamed, for once echoing the inner thoughts of the audience. Or, in other words, doing his job. Cesaro, the consensus platonic ideal of a babyface singles star, even drew boos with his classic kn*bhead taunting. He celebrated Ambrose's potential concussion by laughing and posing alongside Sheamus. In a grand if unintentional reckoning, Cesaro later over-shot his trajectory and infamously sling-shotted himself into the ring post, sickeningly submerging his two front teeth into his gum.

That one spot defined the glorious appeal of professional wrestling, with its car crash gruesomeness and extemporaneousness - but that does the remainder of the 16 minute minor classic a disservice, for the simulated danger was as effective as the genuine danger that has come to define it. The selling, aural and visual, was absorbing as hell.

Seth Rollins' performance was a complete pleasure, too: this was blinding house afire stuff from a guy who we can finally stop with the "He's not a good good guy" bad take.